Not Ever For Good


darren2_icon.gif eldridge_icon.gif elle_icon.gif harper_icon.gif odessa_icon.gif

Scene Title Not Ever For Good
Synopsis Elle Bishop goes searching for a missing friend and finds instead a body. She thinks.
Date August 14, 2010

Staten Island - Sea View Hospital

The fires have been put out and the sky is clear of the thick layer of smoke that was pluming and wafting from the remains of the Staten Island Hospital. The only clouds now are the fluffy white that form in the troposphere, lazily drifting across the expanse of grey-blue over New York, casting careless patches of shadow one place and leaving puddles of sunshine elsewhere.

One such puddle bathes the crumbling ruins of Sea View Hospital. Derelict and dangerous made deceptively cheerful in the way the sunshine sparkles on standing pools of water leftover from Thursday night's downpour.

Also deceptively cheerful is the figure of a woman with white-blonde hair and a pretty white dress, speckled with pink polka dots, better suited for a party than where she wound up. Blood has saturated the sweetheart neckline, dirt and mud are smeared across the skirt. And the four and a half inch heels are better suited for any place but the Greenbelt. Except perhaps Antarctica. They aren't doing her any good anymore, regardless.

A dark shadow cast by a looming piece of precariously arched structure wall obscures the muddied and bloodied angel's face…

Or what's left of it.

Blood stains her crown, matting platinum to scalp and skull. Her nose has been pulverised, and it's hard to truly tell the extent of the damage made to it beneath the pulp and dried blood and dirt. Two eyes cast a gaze toward the heavens she surely hoped she'd reach, one dark and clouded with what's left of tears and rainwater and other grime to have washed down her face and settled into the corners. The other a mangled mess, gashed almost cleanly in pupil and iris - the lid and brow untouched by whatever blade so precisely destroyed that eyeball. Blood, tears, raindrops, and thicker fluids have dried messily in the sun and breeze.

The dirty angel's face and neck are a mass of small stab wounds, with the same present on her hands and arms in the form of defensive wounds. Ultimately it seems a wound almost innocuous in appearance in her neck was her downfall. Too much crimson remains there, painted over collar and shoulders, still tacky in the hollow of her throat.

She'll be hard to identify, unless one knows what they're looking for. Beneath black, caked on mud, the garish and clashing red tartan print of those shoes are almost as tell-tale as a birth mark when coupled with the information given by Molly Walker. This is Odessa Knutson.

Elle has been hunting through the Greenbelt all morning. After sneaking in past all of the heavy security and the like, she's spent most of the morning hunting, searching, to no avail. She's just finished eating the food she packed from Warren's fridge before leaving this morning, a simple ham sandwich. That's the one thing she can't mess up, at least; she's vowed to scour all of the Greenbelt, even if it takes her all day. Or two days. She'll just pick up where she left off if she can't find anything today.

Her hair is held up by a simple yellow ribbon. Elle wears a pair of jeans and a comfortable yellow t-shirt today, her left arm still kept in its sling. The bullet wound itches, and her good hand occasionally wanders up to scratch beneath the bandage. Her usual heels are nowhere to be found. The combination of Vicodin and the fact that she was going to the Greenbelt made her realize that heels are not the best choice today, and so she wears a pair of simple hiking boots.

She's finally come to Sea View Hospital, frowning up at the rotting, vandalized building with a look of dismay. She always hated abandoned buildings, they always gave her the heebie-jeebies. The fact that it's an abandoned hospital makes it even worse still. If abandoned buildings were bad, abandon hospitals are terrifying. Still…Odessa could be holed up in there somewhere. No leaf must be left unturned. With a shake of her head, Elle Bishop slowly makes her way into Sea View Hospital, shaking her head and generally being unhappy. She's sweaty, muddy, and generally uncomfortable.

Elle stops short as she enters the foyer, wide blue eyes falling upon the broken form. Her eyes trail over the bloody mess of the woman, slowly growing to the size of saucers as she examines her find: the blonde hair matted with blood, the mangled eye, the face matted with blood and mud. The red and black stained white dress…and finally, those four inch heels. Her eyes linger on those heels for a moment, staring in disbelief. Oh, shit. Oh…shit shit shit.

"Odessa…" It comes out as a choked whisper from the petite blonde as she steps closer, frowning down at what appears to be a corpse. The corpse of the girl that she grew up with, the one who her constantly pitted against her. They were never friends, but that certainly doesn't stop the pang in Elle's chest, the tightening sensation in her throat as she takes in the sight before her.

It wasn't supposed to be like this…

The air feels heavier inside of the crumbling hospital somehow. Thick with a sensation that Elle can't quite describe, but it's painfully familiar. Like an echo of a distant memory she can't quite bring to the fore of her mind.

Glass crunches beneath Elle's sensible boots, pebbles shifting and embedding in the tracks of rubber treads. As she nears the prone form of the woman she'd grown up with, the unnatural sensation hanging in the air seems to grow more insistent. Curiosity killed the cat, but Elle Bishop is no cat. She crouches with the sun at her back, casting further shade over the broken figure on the floor, reaching out to pull the hem of her skirt down just the barest bit more. The dead have no need for modesty, but it just seems the right thing to do. She draws her good arm back to rest her forearm against the peak of her knee.


The inexplicable thickness in the air evaporates. Explodes silently. Implodes? It does something. It disappears.

The dirt and blood encrusted hand wrapped around Elle's wrist suddenly doesn't register immediately, even the way the jagged and broken nails bite into her skin in the urgency of that grip.

The deep and shrill intake of air and sudden jolt upward to a half-seated position is hard to miss, however.

"Can you save me?" the dead woman asks, murky eyes seeming to actually focus on Elle for a moment before she collapses to the dirty and decaying floor once again as if the whole occurrence had never taken place.

Save for the fingers still tightly clenched around Elle's wrist.

It all seems to go in slow motion. That snap, the thickness in the air evaporating. She doesn't notice Odessa's grip on her wrist, for some reason. Then, the air intake, the dead woman sitting up and then asking her to save her. Then the collapse. Elle's eyes widen again, taking in her own sharp breath of air as the moment passes, her senses at first quite dull to the shock of all of this.

Then, the little blonde's blue eyes slowly trail down to the fingers clamped around her wrist. Her initial instinct is to recoil in horror, starting to pull her hand back. Then…she stops. Her eyes travel up that bloody, muddy arm, to the mangled face of the girl she once grew up with.

Odessa is in there. Still alive. And she needs Elle's help.

A tortured look forms on Elle's features as she wiggles her wrist out of Odessa's death grip. Ignoring the dirt and gore and blood, her hand then slowly moves to stroke Odessa's forehead, as a softer, sad expression forms on her face.

"Don't worry, Odessa…I can help you. I can save you." This is said in the most calming voice she can muster, even though she's unsure whether or not Odessa can hear her.

Then, Elle stands, pulling her phone out of her pocket and quickly scrolling down to one number in particular in her phone. Harper. She hopes he's still alive after the attacks. Pressing the talk button, she lifts the phone to her ear; the moment she hears the click of an answer, she doesn't even wait for a greeting. "Harper. It's Bishop. I found Odessa for you…Sea View Hospital. Bring a medical team and the best portable medical equipment you can get into the chopper, unless you have a healer handy right now."

«W-What? Sea View?» Harper's voice incredulously crackles over the phone, «How bad is— no, never mind. Just give me a minute to place a couple of calls and I'll have emergency medical on the way. Stay right where you are and don't power-down your phone.» Harper doesn't wait before disengaging the call, the click on his end is a succinct noise of termination that leaves Elle with just the crowing of birds high in the rafters of the gutted hospital.

Wings flap, feathers fall, and a flock of ravens likely planning to pluck the remaining good eye out of Odessa scatter from their roost in a glassless window, letting inky black feathers fall through the air in guttering paths to cracked, old tile spattered with blood.

Odessa lays motionless - lifeless - again. She gives no indication that she can hear Elle speaking to her, or to Harper. If not for the nail bites, angry half moons flooded red beneath thankfully unbroken flesh, Elle might almost wonder if she hallucinated the whole thing. Unnaturally still with a gaze so haunted, maybe it was a last hurrah. Maybe she is dead. Elle hopes not. If there's anything left inside that broken husk, Odessa probably does, too.

Once the conversation with Harper is finished, Elle pockets her phone, watching the ravens with narrowed eyes as she stands protectively over Odessa's lifeless form. No birds are going to do anything bad to the body while Elle is around. In fact, as one bird flies too close, Elle decides to amuse herself by zapping it out of the air, sending it crashing to the ground near Odessa's head.

Once she's sure she's not going to have to fight off birds, Elle crouches down next to Odessa's body once more. With a frown, she watches the woman's lifeless form as she waits, occasionally looking down to those nail bites, as if reminding herself that what just happened really happened.

"Don't die on me, 'Dessa…I wanted this to be a good meeting." She talks, since that's the only thing she can do to pass the time right now. "I even wore the ribbon you gave me when we were nine…I kept it, even though I told you it was ugly…"

For a good fifteen minutes, it remains like this. Elle paces circles around Odessa's body. Part of her wants to fuss at the woman, close her eyes, do something. But she's not dead, and she's horribly injured. Every once in a while, the little blonde pauses, crouching down beside once more to relive some moment of their growing up, more for the sake of her own comfort than anything else. Remember how I set your bed on fire that one time? And how you used to steal my shoes, and I would get so mad at you for it…

Finally, she moves to the doorway of the hospital, frowning up at the sky as she waits for the Institute to arrive.

The abrupt clap of thunder inside the building signals the arrival of help.

The noise is riotous, sending a gust of wind through the foyer that kicks up dust and charred pieces of flaked wood from a fire that gutted these ruins over a year ago. Electricity crackles loudly in the air and pieces of concrete chunks fall to clatter on the tile as Elle whips around to face the sound of the explosive energy discharge.

There, standing in the midst of debris from a sidewalk he took with him, DHS agent Lucas Eldridge stands in his sleek black suit, white dress shirt unbuttoned down to his collar, hands folded behind his back and head bowed. The pieces of concrete scattered at his feet spread out over a full two meters and some of them are glowing white hot on the edges where it looks like they were sheared flat.

Standing beside Eldridge, Desmond Harper looks equally dressed for business rather than scrabbling in the ruins. But with his Desert Eagle raised in both hands, suit jacket unbuttoned and headset plugged into one ear, it seems he'd come expecting a fire-fight, not— this. "Bishop," Harper notes before finally seeing the horrible condition that Odessa's body is in. He looks visibly shocked, enough to take a step back from what looks like a corpse to him.

Eldridge seems more stoic in response, stepping aside to reveal a third man that was standing in his silhouette. This gentleman looks like they pulled him straight out of a laboratory. A knee-length white jacket is buttoned tight to his body, blonde hair is swept back and slicked to his head, green eyes scanning the floor on a path to Odessa, hands clad in black leather gloves.

"Is she alive or dead?" is asked in a thick Brooklyn accent by the blonde Doctor as he storms across the room with clicking footsteps, beginning to tug off his gloves one finger at a time, green eyes sharply set on Elle in expectance.

Elle jumps at the clap, whirling around with a ball of electricity already forming in the palm of her hand. It quickly fizzles, however, as she realizes who, exactly, it is. The two familiar forms of the Institute Agents and their sudden appearance prompts raised eyebrows as she returned to Odessa's form, meeting the Doctor as he approaches.

"Agent Eldridge. Agent Harper." Elle inclines her head briefly toward Harper for a moment, before her blue eyes sink back down to Odessa. "I found her like this. I thought she was dead."

Elle kneels near Odessa once more, gently flattening out the dead-looking woman's skirt in an almost fond way. "I kneeled down, and she grabbed my arm and sat up and looked at me. Asked me to save her. Then she fell back down again." She glances up to the Doctor. "She's alive. Barely alive. I think…I think it might have something to do with her Evolved ability, or something." Then, back down at Odessa once more. "Please…help her."

When Elle reaches out to touch Odessa's dress again, the apparently-not-quite-so-dead woman's fingers twitch. Blood flakes where the nearly imperceptible rise of her chest shifts the neckline of her dress from where it lay plastered against her skin. She shows no other signs of life.

Harper and Eldridge step back and away from the doctor as he tucks his gloves into one side pocket of his white lab coat. "I need you to stay close," the blonde doctor states to Elle as he takes a knee beside Odessa, lifting a hand up to brush fingers over her forehead then down to the side of her neck. "She's in some sort of— I don't even know, time lock or something. I can feel what's going on, but I don't know how it's gonna' react t'my power."

Looking up to Harper, the doctor arches one brow slowly. In explanation, Harper takes a few strides forward, offering a look down to Darren's kneeling figure and Odessa. "This is Doctor Darren Stevens, he's a temporal manipulator. Rewinds time on people's bodies to remove injuries," Harper's blue eyes rise up to meet Elle's. "Odessa here is a time manipulator as well, which makes this a bit sketchy territory. What do you think, Doc?"

Shaking his head, Darren isn't sure what he thinks. "Well," there's a huff of breath, "If I do nothing she's dead before we can get her to a hospital," and his green eyes track up to Harper at that. "I'm voting to do what I can, and I'll be using her as a battery." There's a nod to Elle.

He wants to use her as a… what?

Elle remains crouched on the other side of Odessa, her eyes trailing from Darren to Harper as they speak, her brows raised. Time lock…so that's what she can do? Manipulate time? She turns her eyes down towards Odessa's form for a moment, before looking back up to Darren with a thoughtful look. Her good hand reaches down, running gently over Odessa's arm.

"Do whatever you need to do. I vote for doing what you can, Doctor Stevens." She tilts her head toward the doctor. "I'll help in any way I can." She frowns down to the broken blonde, reaching to take her hand and squeeze it gently.

She wasn't supposed to find Odessa like — like this. She'd had it all worked out in her head. She was supposed to run into Odessa, and explain to Odessa that their childhood was a lie, have a teary hug and make up, and then bring her to work at the Institute with her. Instead, she's praying that Odessa will survive this ordeal, so maybe she can have that scenario play out. Or at least part of it.

When Doctor Stevens' hand brushes over Odessa's skin, it's as if he breaks through the barrier her own ability seems to have put up reflexively and she begins breathing again, shallow at best. Fresh blood beads up from wounds that hadn't quite scabbed over, it seeps from a shallow cut in her neck. Too close to an artery to spell anything other than trouble, but it seems to happen slower than it should. To Darren, at least.

While Elle seems perfectly willing to assist Darren, Harper either knows something she doesn't or isn't willing to take the risk. Walking backwards, he quickly moves to the other side of the foyer where Eldridge is waiting with brows furrowed and head bobbed down. Darren lays one hand down at the center of Odessa's chest, then lifts his other hand out for Elle, curling his fingers in a gimme motion before taking the petite blonde's hand in his. Just a few months ago, this procedure would have killed Elle, now with both the Company and the Institute having taken turns training Doctor Stevens, she at least has a chance of making it through.

A chance is better than nothing.

What happens next is a spectacle only made possible by the Evolved. Darren's hand holding Elle's begins to shed a green light, even as his bones radiate a brief yellowish glow within. Radiating bands of fibrous lime-green light surge outward in clouds from where he holds Elle, and the blonde is abruptly struck by a palpitation of her heart and a pain down her right arm.

The second that tug at her chest comes, there's a loud humming sound that emanates from Darren as his irises burn green and the hand on Odessa's chest begins emitting the same sickly yellow-green radiation. The humming sound throbs from both of his palms, crackling eventually when it sounds like some sort of nuclear reactor charging up. All around Odessa' body, dust is unstilled and her muscles begin to twitch. "Here…" Darren whispers as the sounds of vibration grow louder and Elle begins to feel tired, "we…" and then in a riotous explosion of light, Darren releases the build up energy as his face flushes lime green and bones shed a sunlight yellow, "go."

The room is flooded with light and Odessa's body looks like a black silhouette thrashing on the ground. Darren's hand gripping Elle's squeezes painfully against her wrist, and Elle can feel significant sleep and drowsiness coming over her. Her metabolism slows, even her ability seems to be little more than a faint static tickle at the back of her mind.

There's a scream that soon joins the loud noise of Darren's power, that buzzing hum. The scream is Odessa's, first sounding hoarse and dry, then gurgling and wet, then crystal clear. Her back arches, toes curl and fingers scrape against the floor tiles as waves of green radiance nearly drown her out. When the light begins to dim, when Darren's grasp on Elle falters and he slouches down onto his backside and then falls to one side to rest his palm on the floor, Odessa looks…

Well, different is a good word for it.

Alive as well, but…

Laying there on the floor, it's evident that whatever Odessa's ability is it interacted poorly with Darren's. Her eye is mangled, a disgusting and scarred ball of knotted flesh closed behind one eyelid. Cuts and abrasions on her body have scarred over and healed in gruesome fashion across her throat, looking like a woman who has a story to tell from a knife fight.

Furthermore, her hair has bleached entirely white, chalky and pale, devoid of pigmentation and five inches longer than it was a moment ago. A few more tiny creases and wrinkles adorn Odessa's face as well, and her clothing looks tattered and frayed.

Darren exhales a shuddering breath, wavers, an then falls flat on his back.

Elle offers Harper a pensive look as he steps away, before raising her hand to meet Darren's. She frowns down at the wounded form of Odessa, chewing on her lower lip. Then, her blue eyes turn up toward Darren as he suddenly flares into life…then, that palpitation and pain in her arm causes her teeth to grit. "What're you—" Then, the humming noise begins. An alarmed look is cast toward Harper.

Then, the room begins to spin for Elle as the light fills it, the woman flopping right down onto her rear end, staying upright by the grace of Darren's grip. The little blonde's eyes droop, and she is hardly able to comprehend what is going on right now. Is that Odessa's scream? Yes…yes, she's alive. Apparently not too happy as she's being healed, but alive all the same. Elle does her best to watch the process, though her consciousness is quickly fading.

As Darren releases her hand, Elle slumps to the ground on her back, teetering on the edge of unconsciousness and quite unable to move, save for the occasional flutter of her eyelashes that signifies that the little huntress isn't knocked out yet.

Elle flops backward, and Odessa sits bolt upright, as though she'd just leeched the life force from her. Perhaps through Darren she has. She's still screaming even after the light show of Doctor Stevens' ability has subsided. Hysterical from the shock of being brought back from the brink of death quite as violently as she was brought there in the first place.

Wide-eyed, she grabs hold of Darren's jacket in her fists, too-long nails biting against her palms where the white fabric doesn't act as a buffer. "What have you done?" Odessa demands, her wild-eyed stare on his face for the space of a few moments before she relinquishes her hold on him with one hand and reaches up with it to touch her face, feeling for her dead eye.

Everything aches. What just happened was such a leap from the natural flow of time, even for her. Tears begin to run down her cheeks, going from simply terrified to confused and terrified as she looks around at the people gathered to retrieve her. There are no answers in the lines of their well-dressed forms.

"I— saved you," Darren mumbles a bit breathlessly where he's seated, green eyes wide, "you're welcome." For all that Darren and Odessa are tangled near each other, one doctor to another, one far less able to fend for himself than Odessa is, the former spectators are all well and good to move in now.

Patent leather shoes across the floor as Harper makes his way over to where Odessa curls fingers into Darren's jacket, while Eldridge heads over to where Elle is laying on her back. The teleporter takes a knee, lifting up one hand to touch fingertips to the side of Elle's throat, then just nods and moves his hand away as he looks up to Harper.

"Miss Knutson," is said without knowing the secrets that Martin Crowley bestowed on her, "my name is agent Desmond Harper, and I've been looking for you." Obviously, to Odessa, there is only one excuse. A man calling himself an agent is here, with Elle Bishop. Clearly, the Company has come looking for her.

"I'd like it if you cooperate with us, because there's some people who would like to talk to you, very much." Taking a knee beside Odessa, Harper lifts one hand up to lay on her arm then reaches out to Darren, gently urging her arm back and away.

"'Dessa…" Elle manages to grunt this out, peering up at her sleepily. She manages a tired smile up at the now white-haired woman, before she slowly pushes herself up with her right arm. She looks exhausted, wobbling a bit as she keeps herself upright. She squints at Odessa for a long moment through drooping eyes, shaking head once. "You look like shit." She pauses. "Drastic improvement from what you looked like a few minutes ago, though."

A bleary scowl is suddenly cast toward Harper from the petite blond, who isn't interested in doing anything but staying upright without passing out, aside from the conversation at hand. He's really not handling this too well. Then, she looks back to Odessa. "We're not Company." This is blurted out by the exhausted electrokinetic, who rubs her hand at her eyes. "Don't freak."

With a soft grunt, Elle promptly flops back down on her back, staring up at the ceiling and…yawning.

Now Odessa sits with her gaze transfixed on Desmond Harper as he vaguely hints at who and what he is. With a shriek, she's pulling away from the knot of people as quickly as she can, dragging her body across the debris-littered ground. Her shoes scrape noisily as she tries to get some sort of purchase and get to her feet.

"N-n-no! I won't go back! You can't make me go back!" Disoriented from her experience, Odessa's grip on her ability is sketchy at best. She appears to skip a few frames, nearly rising to her feet before she's suddenly back down on the ground again, shaking with fear and the sobs that rack her body. Elle tells her not to freak, and it only now sinks in what she's said. We're not the Company. Her hands come up to wipe at her tears, smearing the dried blood and dirt on her face further.

"You're the Institute," she manages only quietly, lips trembling as she speaks. The realisation brings no comfort to her, but does serve to still her some. Mismatched eyes focus first on Darren. "…Thank you." She isn't sure she isn't going to wish she had laid here dead to the world yet or not, but his effort must count for something. Then she turns her attention back to Harper, the wheels in her head most definitely turning as she takes in a series of deep breaths to steady herself.

"Let's talk business. What can you offer me?"

There's a crackling snap behind Odessa that accompanies a purplish glow, and then a smooth but familiar voice rumbling behind her. "We can offer you quite a great deal, Odessa." The sound sends chills down Odessa's spine, reflexively makes her hands shake, and bring back visions of a great many tragedies. Worst of all, the man who caught her and brought her to Moab.

A hunter, a spy, a leader and a traitor.

Hard soled shoes click around Odessa as the new arrival takes slow and thoughtful steps in circling motion to stand in front of her. His suit is as black as night, the black collar of his undershirt shining with silken fabric that matches his black tie. So too is his skin a dark chocolate shade, head shaved and one dark but thin brow raised thoughtfully.

Coal black eyes stare at Odessa wordlessly for a moment. While Harper and Eldridge seem to tense at his presence, Darren crawls to his feet and looks momentarily surprised by him even being here.

"Why don't you and I go have a talk with Simon," he says with a slow motion of one hand held out in offering to Odessa, his slightly paler palm offers up to her, "then you and I can discuss what you can be offered."


What must they have offered Roger Goodman

…to bring him back from the dead.

That voice knocks away the fatigue from Elle's eyes as adrenaline suddenly kicks in, the little blonde's eyes shooting straight open. She sits up, turning to stare aghast at Roger Goodman. The man she was investigating for the Company for three months in Chicago. He was dead. But now…he's alive, and well, and right here. Urging sluggish muscles into action, Elle scoots back along the dirty floor on her rear, eyes wide as she stares up at the dark-skinned man who has come back from the dead.

And here is the answer she was seeking, all along. His corpse disappeared because he's not dead.

"Roger Goodman…" Her jaw work almost like a fish as she tries to process this new nugget of information. Holy shit. Finally, her back bumps against the wall, her good hand raising to point at him. Then, her hand drops back down to her side.

Why is she suddenly freaked out by this man? It was a distinct possibility that he was alive, and it's not like they're enemies now. They are, after all, on the same side now, aren't they?

Elle's higher functions keep her from attempting to use her ability on Goodman. Odessa's higher functions aren't quite firing yet. She stares up at the man's outstretched hand with a fresh wave of terror crashing down upon her. "I guess we both learned a little something about cheating death in our time with the Company," she quips in a shaky voice. Slowly, she reaches up to take Goodman's hand, fully expecting that they're about to simply disappear, rather than him being about to help her to her feet.

Coal black eyes level down on Elle, and Roger lifts one brow spuriously in seeing her, then when he turns those dark eyes back to Odessa, pearl white teeth are revealed behind dark lips. When Odessa's hand lands in Goodman's, all of those expectations she was having are cast aside as he pulls her straight up to stand.

"If you were thinking I'd teleport you somewhere, Knutson, you're quite mistaken. We just got you fixed," Goodman notes with an arch of one brow, "there's no need to have you back in pieces again just yet." While Goodman is speaking, Eldridge is taking one of Elle's hands and offering her a helping hand up to her feet, carefully bracing her weight with one hand at the small of her back so as to not let wobbly legs lead to a head injury.

Darren pulls himself up from the ground, brushing off dust and dirt from his jacket, then looks up to Harper who moves to the center of the group. "Eldridge, take us back to my apartment in the Octagon. That's probably the safest place to be right now. Goodman," blue eyes meet the tall and gaunt man's far darker stare, "Let Broome know that Eldridge will be coming to get him tomorrow so he can talk to Knutson."

Then, as Harper offers a look down to the blonde temporal-manipulator, theres a slow arch of one brow. "You're going to stay low for a couple of days, and you're going to tell me exactly what happened to you while Doctor Stevens here gives you an actual medical look over to make sure you aren't… I don't even know." The Z-Word would be somewhat unfortunate.

"Bishop," Harper notes with one brow raised, "How do you feel like letting Knutson here stay with you until she can properly talk to us about her future? The last thing I need is for her getting herself killed again. You can probably pry yourself away from Warren long enough to do that, I imagine."

Elle stares right back up into those coal black eyes of Roger Goodman's, the adrenaline fading and the fatigued look appearing on her face again. Well, this gives her a lot to discuss with Harper at a later time, when she's not feeling like she could just curl up on the concrete floor and sleep right now. As Eldridge takes Elle's hand and helps her up, she wobbles a bit, before gaining her balance.

Then, Elle turns to Harper as he speaks, her head tilting to one side. Odessa? Staying with her? She turns, regarding the woman for a long moment. Then, she nods slowly. "Warren can wait for a while, yes. She can stay with me." She turns to look at Harper once more, still looking wobbly and out of it, and feeling like a nearly-dead battery right now. "I have a few other things that I need to discuss with you, Agent Harper, once I don't feel like a concrete floor would make a great bed."

Once again, she returns her blue-eyed gaze to Odessa. "I need to talk with her, anyhow…"

Odessa's eyes narrow faintly, at Goodman as he quips about her falling to pieces again. All the same, she doesn't let go of his hand until she's certain she has her footing. Her gaze lingers for a long moment before turning her attention dutifully to Harper, listening. At the suggestion of staying with Elle, she darts her gaze between the other blonde and the agent.

The knotted and mangled eye rolling in her skull feels alien to her. Not to mention it doesn't look at all attractive. She brings her hand up to cover her left eye self-consciously, though not out of vanity, attempting to manage a glare. "Stay with her?" Odessa scoffs. "I don't think you've done your research." Accusatory, she wheels on Elle, her nostrils flaring. Her protests and accusations die inside of her dry mouth, however. She's rather outnumbered in this situation, and not at all confident of her ability to use her power. Especially in the presence of Darren. "Fine."

"I think you two have a whole lot more in common than you think," Harper opines with a broad smile spreading across his lips, hand clapping on Odessa's shoulder as he looks to Darren. "Come on, what's with all the serious faces, we just saw a woman get brought back from near death by a guy who bends time with his mind, and we're about to hopscotch about five miles to my apartment in the blink of an eye." Harper looks back and forth between Goodman's unsmiling and severe countenance, and then Eldridge's stoic expression.

"I'll speak to you later," Goodman notes in an unamused tone of voice before discorporating in a crackling haze of violet and purple energy that wisps away like smoke sucked through a straw. Eldridge just shrugs, looking up to Harper with one brow arched, then over to Elle and Odessa, then finally Darren.

"Stick close," Eldridge flatly states, "and try not to yelp, it's going to feel like your falling for about two seconds." Clasping his hands together, Eldridge closes his eyes as both Elle and Odessa feel a static charge in the air, then a slowly expanding bubble of electricity brushes over them harmlessly, radiating outwards from Eldridge and disturbing the debris scattered around the ruined hospital floor.

A moment later, there's a surge of light that pulses from the agent and a clap of thunder and flash of lightning. When the light fades, there is just a shallow bowl carved into the floor where they were standing, perfectly smooth on the inside with glowing hot edges.

Gone, but not ever for good.

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