Participants:
| Scene Title | Not The Usual Stalker |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | A meeting at Russo's apartment brings an information exchange. |
| Date | February 25, 2011 |
Dorchester Towers — Brad's Apartment
Outside it may be raining, but in here it's entertaining.
Well okay, it's not raining or snowing and Russo may be in the entertainment industry but likely, he's not chosen to call over Brennan for said entertaining. Brennan's standing, keys in pocket, glancing away from the door to down the hall, nodding to someone who's exiting their own apartment. A friendly New Yorker but that's because he's chicago born and not a true local.
Jeans, sweater jacket, scruff that's silver in places on his chin and temples. He got a decent haircut now that the dome lifted and he's out. There's no children running around his ankles or wife on his arm. No physiotherapy gear to be handed over for Delia, Brennan waits outside the door, sneaking away from the preparations and the house at the beck of the TV host. Their flight is impending, vacation just a hands grasp away.
The door peeks open at first and then opens all the way as Brad steps back into the apartment. "Doctor Brennan," he greets with a grin. "Thanks for stopping buy." The grin on his lips grows as he steps further into the apartment only to stop himself, roll his eyes at his own manners and offer, "Come on in. Sorry," his hand is held up apologetically as he shuffles further inside, motioning to the couch or one of the chairs for the doctor to sit.
"Can I get you something to drink? I made some coffee not long ago; the pot's new— " like somehow that can persuade the doctor to partake in the black fluid.
"Sorry I was so cryptic on the phone— " about everything. His neck cranes as he pours two cups of coffee— without being asked to do so— and glances down the hall. No sign of Devon. Good. "— I had.. I have a new houseguest. It seems I'm destined to have a revolving door— " now. After years alone.
"I could go for a cup, thanks" Stepping in, obeying the laws of manners. He doens't take his jacket off, unsure of how long he'll be here at the behest of Mr. Cryptic the super mysterious. "I get quite a few cryptic calls. Cryptic patients, who say that they have this friend who has this thing, when in truth it's them" A wry laugh, he takes up residence on one of the arm chairs, looking over at the host.
"As strangely stalkery as this sounds… I knew that already. A young man named Devon"
"Well…" the comment catches him off-guard, so in usual Bradley Russo fashion, he grins, "you don't look like my usual stalker." As he strolls back to the armchair, he finds his perch, settling into his rather quickly. "So you know Devon?" His eyebrows arch expectantly only to fall, "I would ask more but… professional courtesy seems to dictate not." And so he relaxes. "He's been through an ordeal, that one."
"Devon and I ran into each other under the dome. We went through some things together. He was going to watch over a woman and her newborn for me when I went to make a housecall. Beyond that, probably his call to tell you more. Needless to say, He's a good kid. A good kid and in need of a little help right now. He called to see if I made it out and we met up for some lunch."
Brennan takes the coffee, jovial mood not so jovial, but at least he's not depressed. "I gave him the name of a shrink that I know. Someone he can talk to when he gets to the point that he feels he's ready to talk"
The talk of the Dome actually subdues the host some. Not only because of the seriousness of dome-life (which Brad never had to live through), but also because Devon is to be the topic of conversation today. Which is actually heavy considering the intro to all of this. "Yeah.. I thought maybe he should talk to someone. Can't say I know or have ever talked to a shrink though." His distrust in people holds him to that fact. He was always more of a group therapy kind of person anyways. Nothing like diverting to everyone else.
"I actually.. he's the topic of conversation." Brad frowns lightly. "When Delia was here, my job was.. it was.. it wasn't like this. She needed me, she needed help, she needed someone to acknowledge her life for what it was, but…" the frown deepens, "Devon… I.. I don't know what I'm supposed to do."
'Delia's needs were more physical, whereas Devon's needs are psychological. Devon likely is suffering from post traumatic stress. A great many people who were in the dome likely were, I'm probably dealing with it as well but I have experience and I live with a doctor who will kick my ass when I need it. I tried to suggest he get out of the city. Go away for a weekend or a week, go to the coast. But since you're here, I'll say the same thing. Get him out of the city. Take him away for a weekend or a week"
Brennan's hands cup the mug, thumb tapping against the surface. "He's lost his aunt and others with the dome and you're helping him already, giving him a place to stay, be around for when he starts to grieve."
The frown is replaced by a defensive smile, wholly aware of what he's going to say next. Brad's fingers tighten around the mug. He brings the coffee to his lips and takes a longer than normal swallow for drinking hot fluid. Russo tilts his head a little as the smile creeps a little more solid over his features.
There's a lot to say, but no easy words for it. In fact, they get caught in Brad's throat. "I.." he begins only to fail. "Grief and I don't exactly mesh. Food I can do. Shelter, no problem. General support and loyalty?" he's there. But this? Not so much.
"A lot of people don't mesh with grief. I don't mesh well with grief. I get very angry. Devon doesn't seem to get angry. Devon seems to go numb, from what I can see, but he is reaching out. He reached out to me, and it seems, he's reached out to you. You're helping, you have given him shelter and you're right there. From what he's told me, he's doing okay physicially."
Brennan tilts the coffee to his lips, taking a sip from the cup.
"Sounds like you're old hat at grief and how to avoid it"
Brad rests his mug on the coffee table next to him, only to cross his arms over his chest. He adjusts in his seat, resettling with some effort. The smug smile continues, the little defence mechanism that it is. "I manage well enough," Russo replies as his head turns away awkwardly.
Brad's eyebrows crease together as his fingers knit together in front of him on his lap. "I do what I can to keep what happened from happening again. It's important," a basic principle he violated when he let Delia in so easily. And then she hurt him. Repairs are slow, even with apologies.
"Then you know what not to do Brad" To the bone, quick. "You know then, what you don't want to see in Devon and what you need him to do. Because in that place, in that dome Brad, we all did things that we wouldn't have done outside of it, some of us. I saw teenagers with automatic weapons, I saw people lined up and shot because of who they are. Things I haven't seen since I came out of the jungle way back when, when I was naive and thought that I could really fix the world."
He puts his own cup down, resting his elbows on his knee's and clasping his hands. He leans more on his right arm, favoring the left. "You brought him into your home. Like you did Delia. You've made a commitment to him. If this means that by helping him face his grief, you get a glimpse of yours, maybe it's for the better. Maybe.. enough time has passed that you can start working on that grief and show him that it's okay."
Brennan meets Russo's eyes. "Show him how it's done, that it's okay. It's not… unmanly"
"I didn't say I hadn't dealt with my grief," he hasn't. Brad's arms wrap tighter around his chest only to let his arms drop. The coffee. All he wants is the coffee. His arms unravel from around his body, dropping to his sides with a heavy sigh. "I've been fine for awhile, I've just learned better," how to keep people away, how to not get hurt, and how to keep it from ever ever happening again.
Russo's jaw tightens some while he examines his guest. "I feel completely ill-equipped for this. Completely."
There's a a chuckle, amused one and not at Brad. "That's the second time I've heard that this week. Being ill-equipped to deal with something. First is from a young woman who has found herself pregnant and people keep telling her she'll be a bad mother that she really does think she'll be a bad mother"
There's that thumb, tapping again. "Fine is not a state of being that one should find themselves in. Fine is code for 'it could be worse, but I wish it would be better' is what I've found." There's no judging or condescension in his voice, far from it."Is this you, Bradley Russo, asking Harve Brennan the third, for help. With Devon like you did with Delia?"
”People have no business,” Brad counters quietly to his coffee before raising it to his lips again. The question earns an empty chuckle, mirthless and hollow as his lips curve up into a nearly wicked smile. He frowns slightly as he brings his coffee to his lips again.
”And yes. I’m asking for help. I don’t know what I’m doing. I can handle my life. I can handle my day. I can handle my job… this is something I can’t easily handle. He’s scared. He’s got nightmares. He insists on carrying a gun around with him everywhere and yields the bullets when he comes into the apartment— “
The gun thing, he didn't know. Is he even old enough to carry one? "I knew about the nightmares, he told me about them, about how he's sleeping, a common thing. Think of the gun though, like a safety blanket of sorts. In the dome… it was quite possibly the only thing between you and whatever going to happen. common sense just.. it was like lord of the flies"
Which says a bit. "And the evolveds were piggy" Brennan lifts a hand, scraping a palm across his jaw. "First of, take him to a shooting range. He's not old enough likely to carry one, but he is probably is old enough to learn how to shoot it properly. Enroll him in a safety course. Get him some self defense lessons, it's all about right now, making him feel safe again."
"Yeaaaah. I tried to teach him to throw a punch on the sun deck, but he's in too rough of shape to really engage with it." Devon was shot, after all. Brad's eyebrows knit together tightly. "I can get him into these things and I insisted he needed lessons on the gun but, he's in rough shape right now."
"And.. with.. nightmares? What.. what can I do about it? He wakes up. Well I woke him up.. warm milk. I don't know anything. Literally, this is so outside what I'm capable of doing and knowing that I don't know how to deal with that.
"Don't wake him up. As crazy as it sounds, just, let it run it's pace unless it gets disruptive. If he wakes up, keep doing what you're doing, really Brad, you'd doing fine. You're doing what you're capable of doing. I can find some group therapy's if you think he'll be interested in that, or if you still feel you're incapable of handling it by the time that we get back from France, you can broach the subject of maybe him staying with Michelle and I for a bit. See if Michelle can't help him. she's a -" well, he knows that she's a pediatrician. "It just happened Russo, it's going to take time for him to get back to what his new state of normal is going to be." He nods his head, picking up his coffee again.
"Seriously? Let him sleep through that?" Brad's eyebrows knit together tighter now. "He's making noises, he's writhing in his sleep and I'm not supposed to wake him up?" Uncomfortably he hugs his own body tighter as he shifts in the seat. "Yeah.. I don't mind him staying here, that's not the issue. I have resources," that much is true. "But the whole parental thing. Friend thing. Mentor thing.." Brad never really had that. Not from a man. He's a mama's boy through and through.
"Tossed into the deep end of the pool Brad, you're either gonna sink, or you're gonna swim, but at least, you'll be given some floaties. I'll make some calls, dig around when I get home and leave them with you. I'm sure that pretty soon some support groups will pop up with people from the dome, he should attend those. The more he sees of other people who survived under what happened there, the better. He can see that he's not alone"
Brad sighs and presses his lips together. The doctors thoughts are considered and left to hang. With a light frown he nods. "Thanks. I need help." It's a more honest statement than Brad would ever admit. Maybe somehow in all of it he'll find what he needs as well. "Yeah.. swimming hasn't exactly been my strength in the past. I just hope for Devon's sake I can float this time."
