Islanded In The Stream Of Time

Participants:

gin_icon.gif rhys_icon.gif

Scene Title Islanded in the Stream of Time
Synopsis Desperately seeking a thread by which to find an ally lost in history, Rhys Bluther seeks out the one woman who knows the truth…
Date November 4, 2010

Siann Hall


It's been raining all day.

Out of the yellow cab and onto the sidewalk, rain pelts down on a curly-haired woman hastily moving out from the taxi and towards a brownstone apartment building close to the street. Her shoes click soundly up the concrete steps, through the glass-faced door and into the warmly lit lobby. Past mailboxes and potted ferns, down a ground-floor corridor towards her apartment.

The sound of the neighbor's television echoes through the thin walls as Ginny Gibbs walks down the wood-floored hallway. An argument upstairs is muffled through the floor, but male and female voices bantering back and forth in shouting cadence is hard to miss, even if the context of their argument is.

Halfway down the hall, the door to apartment 107 is flanked by sconce wall lamps, one of which flickers intermittently as it has since the day Gin moved in here. That there's noise coming from beyond the door to her apartment isn't right.

That someone is singing in her apartment is even less right.

Despite what the lyrics thrumming through the door say, this is not what it's like when doves cry.

People don't sing in that apartment. It's odd that her first instinct is to be offended by the break in normal protocol for her home, rather than the actual invasion. Hey, it's New York. Musical burglary doesn't seem all that abnormal. Maybe it's an out of work actor.

The good news is that Gin Gibbs does not carry a gun to work. The bad news is she's already pushing up her sleeves in preparation to punch someone's lights out as she pushes the door open. And slams it behind her.

"Alright, ya thievin' piece of New York trash, you've got five seconds to get the hell out. Five…" Yes, she is really going to count down and everything.

Puppy Sneak Attack!

The moment Gin is in the door there is a scrambling across the floor and a blur of fluffy white fur, followed by an excited yipping and a tiny little fluffy white puppy with a nub tail and short, pointed ears leaping up and down in front of Gin, pawing up her pant legs, tongue hanging out and tail-nub whipping back and forth excitedly.

In the middle of the living room, eyes wide and looking for all his worth like the cat that ate the canary is a teenage boy with a neatly combed coif of brown hair swept to one side. His black and white vest, dress shirt and slacks outfit makes him look something like a waiter, were it not for his black and white wingtip shoes giving him a 1930's charm.

"Oh— I— you're home… early." A grimace spreads from ear to ear as Rhys Bluthner lowers the bottle of root beer that he was using as a microphone, even while the noise of Prince from a portable radio sitting on the floor continues to belt out When Doves Cry.

"Nono, down!" Rhys instructs with a snap of his fingers to the dog, who immediately slams his butt down on the floor and stares up at Gin with his mouth wide open. "Sorry, sister. I had an accident in 1992 and this little guy wound up coming back with me. I guess he's more your problem now," Rhys admits with a sweep of his palm over his head.

"You can take your shoes off if you want before we talk," sounds a little presumptuous as Rhys tips back his bottle of root beer, taking a swig.

Nono just stares.

Expectantly.

"Oh for the love of-" There's a little growl from the woman at the appearance of a dog, too. But Gin seems determined to linger there by the door all the same. Until something the boy says gets her attention. 1992. "Oh for crissake. You're one'a them god damn time travelers." It's not a question, and the fact that she not only accepts that possibility, but jumps right to the conclusion speaks volumes.

She does not, as a note, take her shoes off.

"Get the hell out," she says to him with a grimace of her own, "You and the dog you rode in on."

"Wwait " Rhys lifts his hands up and arches his brows, one of them time travelers doesn't even begin to explain everything. "I'm not here to cause you any trouble. I won't be— I'm not— I didn't— okay so— you— " one tense at a time, Rhys.

"I was— am— " tenses are hard when he can't focus, "I'm looking for someone," Rhys shakily asks as he reaches inside of his vest and retrieves a photograph. "She's… her name is Kaylee, and I know you know her, from a long— long time ago. Longer than I can even see back to."

There's worry painted in Rhys' face as he turns the photograph around and creeps forward towards Gin. The photo itself depicts a blonde woman with a dark beauty mark on her face, a strong nose and jaw, pale eyes and a warm smile. "She was lost, Ginny, lost in time and I— she's my responsibility."

Rhys' brows lift as he holds the photo up. "I see the past, Ginny. I see it just like everyone else sees the present, but only to a point. She's outside of my line of sight, but not yours. You knew her, before— before you wound up here. Please— when was it? Where?"

Really, it looks like she means to come over there and physically remove him because she wants just that little to do with it all. Not to mention, he's prettier than she is and that just makes her grumpy. But the mention of Kaylee flips her a bit like a switch. It's a name she hasn't heard in years, and never really thought to hear again. So she blinks and takes a step back to look at the photograph.

"I knew her," she does confirm, a frown on her face. "She got lost in time?" That part, they'd never gone over. At the time, it would have seemed totally insane, after all. Gin reaches over to take that picture out of the boy's hand, taking it with her as she paces the room a bit. "You know, she'd given up that her friends were gonna come for her? You know she was there five years by the time I left?" It's a little accusatory.

Five years.

The weight makes Rhys' stomach sink to the bottom of his heels. Whimpering in the same moment Rhys is, Nono looks up to Gin with a pleading expression, ears folding back and one over-large paw lifting up to lightly tap-tap-tap at her shin. Pet me it will make everything better his dark-eyed and pouty expression practically screams.

"When was it, what year… When you left?" One of Rhys' brows raises slowly. "Where were you, I— I have a friend, he can travel back to get her. We— we can make this right again, Ginny. We can fix the mess and…" the boy's brows furrow. "And I'm really sorry for what happened t'you."

"It was 1890," Gin says, as if that isn't at all a strange thing to say. "1890, on Manhattan. The Smith Inn. She's staying with a woman named Margaret Smith. People know the Smith Inn around there, you'll be able to find her." There's a soft sound of her throat clearing before she looks down at the dog… and then leans down to pick him up. "Her Joseph, he's here? She's from now? She told me she was a fighter, keeping people safe. She didn't mention… where she was from."

Swallowing tensely, Rhys offers a worried smile to Gin as he looks down to Nono as she scoops the fluffy Shiba Inu up into her arms. There's a lopsided smile that Rhys offers, apologetic. "She's from now, or— just a little before now." That Kaylee spoke of Joseph isn't too much of a surprise to Rhys, but it is heartwarming nevertheless.

"He lives here in the Bronx, up in a tenement building on Gun Hill Road, named the same. He's a pastor and a good man…" Sliding his tongue across his lips, Rhys looks down to the floor, even while Nono is looking up and flicking his little tongue across Gin's neck and chin.

"Who she works for isn't my place to tell you about, but Joseph could… if he's willing to." Rhys looks up with a faint, though still sorry, expression. "You can tell him she'll be coming home soon. 'Cause as soon as my ride shows up, I'm going to be making sure he goes to rescue her."

"Well. I don't know about all that," Gin says, as far as telling Joseph anything one way or the other, "I could tell him that, and they y'all could fuck it up and that'd just be cruel." She ruffles the dog a bit, then sets him back down before she looks back over to Rhys.

"So get on savin' her. Or else I will find you and kick your sissy ass right out of those very fine clothes. And get there before she gets a life worth keepin' back then. It was gettin' on winter."

"Winter," Rhys notes with a tick of one finger up into the air, "I'll remember to pack my scarf collection and a hat!" Despite the topic and despite himself, Rhys offers a jovial smile as he looks down to Nono and then back up to Gin. "We'll get her back… I promise, Hiro doesn't just abandon people to their fate in a time they don't belong in."

Irony, thy name is Bluthner.

"When we get Kaylee back, I'll be sure t'let her know that you're living up here so that she can catch up with you. Though…" Rhys pauses in thought, brows furrowed and lips downturned into a frown. "It does make me wonder how you got here, if Hiro didn't— "

Like a cut from a movie reel, Rhys is suddenly gone from the apartment without so much as a sound, save for the faint rush of air filling the void where his body once was.

Also leaving his dog behind.

So like a man, hit and run. And leaving his shit behind, too! Gin lets out an annoyed sigh as he departs, and gives the dog an accusatory look in the boy's absence. There's a long moment of silent staring, dominance establishing and so forth, before she relaxes for the first time since she walked in.

"No way in hell am I callin' you Nono."


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