Participants:
| Scene Title | It Doesn't Feel Like Cancer |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Abby tries to help, tugging along Deckard. Though, his diagnosis doesn't match up to the one the doctor has. |
| Date | September 13, 2009 |
Sunday night. The Nakanos have taken the advice of those around them, including the doctor and have gone out to clean up, get something to eat and try and get a good night's rest. Surgery will be in the morning and they will want to be here and well rested as the doctor has anticipated that it will be a long day for them all.
With as little as they have to go on in regards to Refrain, they can only assume the drug has been cleared from Rebecca's system, though she still has bouts of, what they are calling, nightmares. They have done what they can for her. Now that they're convinced the Refrain has been flushed, they're ready to proceed. Rebecca, looking about as bad as they day they brought her in, is asleep, surely assisted by a sedative because since the night she claims to have seen Richard Myron in her room trying to kill her, she has been afraid to close her eyes. Whatever Refrain has done to her, the lack of it has not done much for her mood, as the normally shy and polite woman has been everything but. It appears to be one hell of a drug. The night nurse on attendance is sitting at her station, though she appears to be more intent on filling out paperwork, than paying attention to anything else going on down the hall.
A phonecall had been placed some time after church had ended and she'd done what she'd done with regards to something else. Something else that had set Abigail on edge. Which would explain why she was deciding to go against the doctors choices when she'd offered to heal Rebecca before. "Flint, I need you to help me, help someone. I owe them" The start of another awkward conversation that had landed them in the hospital, and casually walking around like they belonged there post visiting hours.
Helps that Abigail's known to others as a healer and they're used to her with a 'handler' to take care of her afterward. So that means the trip to Rebecca's room goes off without much of a hitch. Only difference is that it's Flint who's going to be healing and Abigail who's there to wait hand and foot on him during and afterward. Bad mood and all.
Blonde hair in ponytail - no Tracy Strauss power pony here - She peers in to see if the woman is awake or asleep before the door whispers open the whole way and she's ushering the hulk of a man in behind her with very little speaking. At least none until the door is closed and she's approaching the bed. "They said tumors, cancer in her brain. They're going to cut her open tomorrow"
Deckard is quiet, which does not necessarily nullify the fact that he is also thuggish and gangling. Like trying to smuggle a great dane into an apartment complex that doesn't allow animals. He stands out. People turn their heads, look and squint — but Abby's with him, and short of her throwing a sheet over his head, he's not going to get any more invisible.
So she leads and he follows, and soon enough he's standing dimly in the semi-dark at the foot of an unfamiliar girl's bed, suit dusky and face overlong in the low carve of a permeating frown. This is weird. This is a weird thing to do.
"What's her name?"
Abby's reputation is great. She's given far more leeway than most, so when they enter the room, there's no one to stop them. Perhaps a brief glance, if that, from the nurse at her station, then she goes back to what she's doing.
Rebecca's eyes are closed and there's a persistent beep from the machine that monitors her heart rate. There's occasional movement as she turns her head from side to the other. Her hands and feet are still secured to the bed to prevent her from leaving or hurting anyone, including herself.
"Rebecca. Rebecca Nakano. FOrensics employee at the Precinct. She sat with me after they pulled me off the island and we're taking my story and stuff. She brought me lunch and made sure I was comfortable. She's a close friend of Elisabeth's and apparently,s he's been hooked on Refrain to take care of headaches" Abigail looks over at Flint. "If you can do something, you can do something, if you can't then you can't, but at least.. something will have been tried, to spare her from .. from a great many things. Don't let her out of the restraints, if she wakes up, no matter what she says" From her bag, Abigail produces a thermos, and unscrews the cap, green swamp sludge pouring out of it and into the cap that doubles as a cup. "Here. This will help you. It's fruity tasting, I promise"
"Cop," Deckard identifies more succinctly and semi-incorrectly, rough voice falling flat in the relative dark. He's slow to wind his way around the bedside, away from her feet and towards her head, paired fingers hooked slack around restraints in passing. "I can't fix crazy people." At least, he can't make them uncrazy, but Abby already knows as much and he's already sizing up her face for a good place to touch anyway. Hmmnhh.
After a moment's uneasy consideration and half-touching, he rests the heel of his hand on her forehead and frowns over sidelong at swamp sludge, which is evidently not his favorite.
The only real response to the hand on her forehead would be the parting of her lips and a subtle whimper of protest. Considering they haven't felt she's in the right frame of mind to hear about the cancer, crazy might be a good word for her. At least, that's what everyone else around her thinks, especially considering that dead people don't tend to rise up and attempt murder.
Her hand gives a brief tug against the restraints that have only been unsecured when she's been asleep and they've needed to change her bedding. Unfortunately, she's becoming used to them.
"She's not a cop. Forensics expert" Abigail murmurs quietly. She feels bad asking but she knows and likely Flint knows that she of all people would be one of the few who would only call on him to do this if it was important in some fashion to her. She knows what it's like to be a healing vending machine. The offer of swamp sludge is retracted when it's spurned and she stands quietly where she is, near enough that if she has to pretend it's her healing if someone looks in, she can do that.
The distinction gets a flat look, but he's here and she's here and healing is a go even at tentative contact. It's a warm, comfortable feeling, muzzy at first, concentrated bleary around the space of her skull before it creeps elsewhere to invade and envelop the whole of her person, noes to toes. The pressure mounting around battered brains eases off gradually. Bruises blotched in by restraints and haggard muscles are slower to fade, but. Progress is progress and Deckard's become vaguely interested in the bweep bweep bweep of the nearest machine she's rigged up to.
The swelling that was causing the headaches recedes and that is a plus for the Rebecca. However, any indication that Deckard might have that looks to be cancer is not there. The temperature gauge on the machine dips her temperature down towards normal and slowly Rebecca's eyes flicker open. Her hands give another tug at her binds, though it's more of a conscious effort now that she's woken up. The same thing she'd done all week long, waking up in this bed. She tries to see who's touching her, though her eyesight is not that great when she doesn't have her contacts in, so there's some fuzz. "Who's there?" her voice is scratchy from all the screaming she's been doing all week as she detoxes. "Lemme go.." she says, that voice sounding nearly like a child's begging to stay up just a little bit longer.
Abby's eyes go to the monitor as well watching things change, tempurature go down, familiar results from familiar motions made by someone else. When Rebecca stirs, Abigail makes sure to move into the womans visual range. "Hey, Rebecca, it's Abigail. Remember me?"
"Nobody," is Deckard's answer for who's there. He even adjusts the sit of his hand to rest more across her eyes, caging himself out of easy view while Abigail does the talking. Or at least, most of it. "Doesn't feel like cancer," is noted off-hand (how does he know what cancer feels like?) and then he's back to tipping his chin up to study the ceiling. Still healing.
"Cancer? What cancer? Abigail?" It's been a long time since she's seen Abigail. "What's going on?" Rebecca's heart would begin to race if Deckard wasn't there keeping things from getting worse. Whatever it is she's feeling, she doesn't move her head as he covers her eyes, though she begins to pull just a little bit harder on her restraints. "Please undo these. I don't want to be here." If she knows why she's being held here, she's doing a decent job of pretending not to.
"The doctor thought that you might have a tumor Rebecca. They were going to cut you open in the morning to explore. They didn't know what effect that my gift would have on you and the Refrain in your system. So I snuck in, I brought … someone with me, and you don't have cancer Rebecca. Whatever is going on, Mike is fixing it" A hand is put up to ward off any questions of why mike is healing her and not Abby. "No one here knows yet that I can't heal anymore. So i brought mike who has an ability like mine was" identical really but…"
Abby glances over to flint to see how he's doing. "I can't take them off Rebecca, but when we're gone, feel free to push that button for the nurses and demand they redo your cat scan or MRI okay?"
Deckard's getting quieter and quieter, which is a progression that isn't all that evident for reasons that are probably obvious. His shoulders slope and his head tips back down like it's heavy on his wiry neck, jaw rolled over to one side while his bony hand grasps a little more firmly over Rebecca's brow. Nearly done.
Rebecca can't see anything with his hand over her eyes, so there's some panic starting to set in. "Please don't leave me here. They won't let me go." She struggles a bit more, though as his grip tightens on her, she tries her best to relax. She's still a little groggy, so she just whimpers a little more as she waits for 'Mike' to finish up what he's doing.
"Rebecca, they will surely have my hide if I did that. But I promise, you'll be out of here soon enough. Okay? Just.. just hold in there" her hand slips into Rebecca's, or attempts to before she remebers no touching while someones being healed. 'Mike's almost done"
A gruff snort and a shake of his hand later, Flint steps away from the bedside with a muttered, "Tada~." Creeping warmth and buzzy ease of mind goes with him.
Even from the back, he cuts a pretty distinct figure. Tall, lean, greying, buzzed and bristled around his narrow jaw, he busies himself with cracking his knuckles and meandering over to closed blinds.
Whatever she was feeling as far as her typical migraine goes, it appears to be gone. Her head isn't throbbing, which is probably the first thing she notices. The second thing Rebecca notices is that the craving for Refrain is still fairly strong, which is more of a mental thing. She turns her head to follow the large figure that Deckard impresses upon her as he walks over towards the window, perhaps trying to get a better look at him. His back is to her, so there isn't much else she can see, and her head turns back to Abigail. "Thank you for bringing him.." she says, her voice even feeling better, that hoarseness no longer there. She's clearheaded, but deep inside that longing still stands. She turns to 'Mike', "And thank you."
"No thanks are needed. I need to get him home Rebecca. Don't tell anyone that he did it. Please" Blue eyes search the other womans brown ones before she leans over, placing a kiss on her forehead. "Get better, the proper way Rebecca. When you're free and clear, go to the Suresh Center. Let them help you with your gift. Get help from the people who know how to help and not people who are guessing, or.. some druggie on a street. Okay?" She pulls back, steps back then turns to Flint, offering her hand out to him. "Ready to go?"
Deckard doesn't answer thanks or the offer to head out, both taken in with a glance and eventually fielded with the same dull-eyed nod when he tucks his hands down into his pockets and heads for the door. While Abby semi-lectures, he looks at Rebecca directly long enough to get a read on her face, then he's the first one out, hallway light cutting a wide swath into the hospital room behind him.
She's wide awake now, and they've left her to herself. She struggles against her bindings and looks up at the ceiling. Thankful that she's no longer hurting, and.. what's this about cancer? Yet, somewhere in the back of Rebecca's mind.. she recalls that syringe with the glowing blue liquid.
And it seems to want her, as much as she wants it.
Abigail slips out behind flint, closing the door, a nod to the nurse if she pokes her head back out and doing her best to look bone tired. IT isn't until they're down the hall, in the elevator and pressing the ground floor that Abigail looks over to flint. "We need to talk" She sucks in her breath.
"It's about Joseph"