Participants:
| Scene Title | Left in Pieces |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Len assures Kayla that everything's okay. She does her best to let him believe that so that he'll go away and she can face what just happened on her own. |
| Date | June 25, 2009 |
As soon as Len was certain he wasn't being followed, he made tracks for Camp Hero. His first order of concern was the injured woman behind him who never so much as got a papercut during the entire ruckus, yet again lays at death's door. He's already radio'd ahead with name, license plate number and emergency code, letting them know he was not waiting for them to let him through the gate. He needed to get to the infirmary.
He pulls up next to the entrance, pushes open his door and moves to retrieve Kayla from the back seat. A gurney was there, waiting as he lays her on. A couple hours later, after the others have arrived and are deal with the fallout of Rami's death, Len is sitting next to Kayla, while she's being looked over.
There's precious little to look over — the woman who remains on the gurney took no physical harm, yet remains silent and largely still beneath the inspections of medical staff, neither assisting their examination nor avoiding it. Then again, they were wearing gloves all the while. She noticed that.
If she's noticed Len's presence throughout this, Kayla hasn't reacted to it. But her silence, her posture, is stiff in a terribly brittle fashion; perhaps it's some sense of pride, or dignity, or sheer stubbornness. As the medic concludes, turning to Len to pronounce the results, Kayla sits back on the gurney, arms drawn about herself, manner defensively bristly. It keeps her hands from shaking, for now.
Nothing wrong with her physically; can't speak for her head.
Len waves off those around her. If she's fine physically, she's fine physically. He pushes himself to his feet with a sigh, lucky on his part, to not be picking glass out of his ass. But others were not near as lucky as he. He walks over and stands by her bed, looking down at the woman.
"So, without sounding ridiculously naive, how are you feeling?" You know, if you can ignore the part where you were nearly blown up, shot at, and perhaps watched folks you worked with fall to their death. Besides all of that stuff. He doesn't move to touch her, but his hands circle the railing at the side of her bed.
She didn't respond to the medic when he asked questions; doesn't, at first, seem like she's going to answer Len, either. Kayla doesn't look up at him, gray eyes remaining turned downwards towards the neutral ground. "Twelve people died," the woman finally says, tone entirely unlike what Len is used to hearing from her. Ashen, exhausted; her usual prickly edge isn't quite in evidence, though as she continues, it's evident the woman is making an attempt at such. "I can tell you… exactly what happened to each and every one. How do you think I feel?" Kayla's black-gloved hands rub at her eyes, but the action does nothing to stop the tears from falling.
He lets her cry for several moments. Minutes even. He then places his large hand on her shoulder. It's not a heavy or forced touch, but just a light contact. The number given is the number that's been given to him as well. Len takes in a deep breath and lets it out. "I would be a fool to presume to know how that all felt. I know how I feel just knowing that they died. To know what you know, would be far too much for me to bear."
"What I do know is that as invaluable an asset you have become to me and this agency, I would not expect you to remain on after all you've gone through tonight. I also know that if you need to talk to something, you can talk to me, or I can arrange to have someone come talk to you."
Now granted, he already has the idea that she's not much for shrinks, however he lets his hand rest on her shoulder, as much comfort as he'll allow himself in this particularly fragile moment.
Twelve died that she felt; it only happens to match the tally so far, as time will soon enough tell. The bodies will never be recovered from the mess Mortimer's bomb made of the building, and not all of the dead were within Kayla's range. But only when time fails to turn them up will more names be added to the roll.
She folds her hands in her lap, focuses on trying to make them not shake, trying to bring under control the reaction that is so much weakness in public. Channeling it elsewise helps, and the narrow-eyed gaze that flicks up to rest on Len is much more familiar to him. "Th'fuck else you think I'm going to go?" Kayla snaps harshly, even if she can't summon any true heat. She doesn't shrug off his hand, either. "Back out there? Not bloody likely."
So, the hand stays. The words that come from her at taken for what they are. He returns her stare, his brown eyes as soft as he could possibly make them. He doesn't feel pity for her. He does have sympathy for her.
"I leave that up to you. I think it's clear now that if something goes down, I'm going to be there for you. If you need anything, you just ask." Len means it, of course. It's one of the codes he lives by. Taking care of his own, of which she is one. "You can rest here as long as you need. If you're not ready to go back to your apartment, we can find you some place here to stay. There are plenty of options, you just need to make the decision on what you want to do."
She rubs at her face again; this time, it stays dry. Or near enough. "It's already been arranged," Kayla replies, weary tone more businesslike. "The paperwork's still in the pipeline; they weren't expecting to need it this quick. The organization is setting up a long-term lease somewhere so Registered won't have this as their place of residence. Or 'classified'. Dead giveaway there. But I'll be here, mostly, anyway." She doesn't promise to take him up on his offer. With Kayla's stubborn streak, that would be too much to expect.
There were no expectations when the offer was made. Just tossing out her alternatives and letting her make her own choice. Len then removes his hand as he turns to head for the door. Before he exits, he turns and looks back at her, offering one of his trademarked grins. "You have my number. I'll be sticking around here for a few days. Call me if you need anything." He places his hand on the door to her room.
The woman sitting on the gurney merely nods at Len, acknowledging his words. She waits until he finally turns and leaves in truth, listening to the sound of boots departing down the subterranean hallway. Alone, Kayla slides off the gurney to sit on the floor. Right now, being left in peace while coming to terms with tonight's deaths is all she could or would ask for.