On Maniacal Metal Manipulators


brennan2_icon.gif michelle_icon.gif nick_icon.gif

Scene Title On Maniacal Metal Manipulators
Synopsis Seeking medical attention from his injuries lands Nick in the hands of the doctors Brennan, and his sympathy for their plight results in sharing of information.
Date August 16, 2011

St. Luke's Hospital and Brennan Medical

Despite the fact that he has bone sticking out of his forearm, Nick's broken wrist and possible concussion are apparently not the worst of the issues in the emergency room this morning. He was willing to wait it out until the last family had come in, coughing and wheezing. The logical part of his brain that says he can't get that flu again is a bit groggy — and possibly concussed — so it's hard to access that information, and Nick is off of the mauve vinyl seat and out the door.

Luckily it's automatic, or he may have gone through the glass.

His feet move toward the parking lot, and he blinks when there is a distinct lack of his truck in any of the stalls.

"Fffuck," he says, not for the first time, one hand coming up to his head to scratch at the dried blood on his temple.

Mothers are a wonder. And a blessing. And pushy. Michelle's mother has kicked her out of the hospital with orders to go do something relaxing instead of lingering in the hospital fretting over her daughter. So she's walking along the sidewalk around the building to meet her husband so they can go fret about their daughter elsewhere when she spots Nick and his… wounds.

"Mister York," comes that familiar French accent, "What have you done to yourself? After I gave you a clean bill of health and all this." She glances to the door that he just came out of, her looks curious. "Usually patients leave after they're treated."

Despite a head wound and an arm wrapped in a blood-speckled towel, Nick looks better than he did the last time he saw Michelle, and yet still like hell, with dark circles beneath his eyes (that are at least more blue than red now). "Madame," he murmurs, lips ticking into a smile.

He nods to the emergency room. "Apparently you have to be having a brain hemorrhage or maybe birthing an alien to get your name called in there," he says lightly. "I know some medic types that can look at it, but I thought I'd go the more clinical route this time."

He lifts his left shoulder in a shrug. "Comment allez vous?"

"You make me sound old with a greeting like that," Michelle says with a soft tsk. "You also have to have patience," she adds, as far as getting your name called in the ER, but with a crooked smile. "Luckily, you know a couple doctors who can look at it. And don't change the subject." It isn't how most people react to small talk, but she's busy not letting him get out of being looked over.

Who on earth is his wife talking t- Oh.

Brennan had started to raise a hand, flag down his wife when he notices her derailment via injured man (typical) and lowers it. It's when closer that he realizes who it is that she's talking to and the already serious demeanor that was in play thanks to the situation that currently holds their family in it's tight fisted sickly grasp remains where it is as footsteps carry him towards Michelle and Nick and catches the tail end.

"I'm presuming that we are heading in to work and not out to eat like your mother wants us to do?" and sleep. French mothers. Pushy. Brennan lets his gaze drop to the blood towel, bandaged head and grimaces. "Do I want to know Mr. York?" He's already got his keys out, gesturing to a black BMW not far away in a Doctors slot.

"Mademoiselle, then," Nick says with a smile and a dip of his head to her chastising, before Brennan comes along. "Oh, don't let me keep you from your plans," he protests, before glancing at his arm and offering a wry smile to the taller of the Doctors Brennan.

"Would you believe," the younger man says, opting for honesty for once, as it sounds like a ridiculous lie, "I got strung up by my feet from a light pole then dropped on my head my a maniacal metal manipulator?"

"We can eat after," Michelle says as answer to both of them. In reality, this will probably keep her out of the hospital longer than grabbing food would have. She nods her head toward the car, silently ushering Nick in that direction.

When he explains, Michelle eyes him a little, before she looks over at Brennan, a hand moving to her hip. "It sounds like he gets into the same brand of trouble you do." And she disapproves!

"Except that you'll have more sympathy for him than you did for me" Is shot back - lovingly - to his wife as he brings up the rear, thereby ensuring that Nick doesn't run off or think to just sit and let that fester. "There's an ortho in our building, plux x-ray facilities, we'll head downtown" To the Financial district and to the medical building that their practice is a part of. "So how did you come to be dropped on your head by a crazy individual and do we need to worry about him trying to overtake the city and proclaim him or herself king or queen?" Okay, slightly facetious. Beep beep goes their car, the engine turning over with a press of a button, the lap of luxury this vehicle. A splurge.

The young man settles into the car, awkwardly pulling a seat belt across himself with one hand. "Trying to talk sense into him," Nick says with a huff of mild amusement, though he doesn't comment on whether or not Calvin plans on a government coup.

He shakes his head, and looks out the window. "Like trying to talk sense to a brick wall, or something equally thick. Taking my offer woulda probably saved him from a lynch mob at some point, but clearly he has a death wish." Nick can recognize those, having had a lot of experience with his own.

"Him I can hand back to some other woman to worry over," Michelle says to her husband, but she looks back to Nick to add, "Or man." Whichever! She opens the door for the broken man, waiting until he gets in so she can close it behind him.

"Some men are very hardheaded, I have noticed," she says, a woman with much experience. Of course, she doesn't add that some women can be hardheaded, too. Particularly her.

Brickwalls are a common occurrence in New York. Brennan slides into the drivers seat, waiting till wife and wounded are settled in, seatbelts on and pulling out to start the trek downtown. "Sounds like the fun that I don't miss at all" You know, the kind he got into when he was helping detox individuals and protecting a teenager. "lets kill some time, by letting Michelle question you on bodily injuries, so that when we get to the shop-" He's calling their practice the shop. "We can skip straight to getting that x-rays and seeing if we need to grab the ortho. Get you some good painkillers too there" Brown eyes on Nicks in the rearview mirror as he does his best to skip around traffic as much as possible and skim past the speed limits as much as he dares to.

"Head and wrist are the only ones I'm worried about, though I feel like I got hit by a train all over," Nick says with a chuckle. "But I know you guys are more thorough then that."

He looks to Michelle, to let her give him the third-degree before he remembers — only a little slowly, and it's almost forgivable given his probably concussion — his manners.

"Thanks," he says quietly, cheeks flushing just a little with the need to give gratitude — it is never an easy thing for him.

"Don't mention it. We took an oath," Michelle says, easily enough, even though normally she probably would have just nudged the person back into the ER. She needs someone to mother, since other doctors are handling their daughters case and her mother keeps insisting on watching the other children. The ride is full of questions, most of them medically focused. How she manages to keep it all in her head is a mystery, but by the time they arrive, he's been given a thorough third degree.

Further degree's are likely to be soon as all three make their way out of vehicle into the building and the next hour is filled with x-rays, a brief consult with the ortho who is kind enough to Nick to set it - Whee, painkillers right? - and a brief foray into the skills of Dr. Brennan and his tiny stitches, to be passed over to Michelle. Concussion seen to, a dose of antibiotics already swirling through Nick's system via a unpleasant jab in a butt cheek, Brennan is scribbling in legible handwriting while he lets michelle get down to the business of actually putting a cast on the brit.

"You need anything else while you're here that you might not be able to get, that Michelle and I won't mind conveniently writing a prescription or two for?" An offer it seems, that may or may not come again and with no questions asked. "And that we won't get nailed by the DEA for" IN other words, be reasonable.

Illegal propositions for drugs are right up Nick's alley, given his sometimes livelihood, and he arches a brow. "That's a kind offer," he says lightly, eyes a little wary as he looks from one Dr. Brennan to the next. "Antibiotics, painkillers, an H5N10 vaccine or ten…" he says lightly.

"Evo strain of course. Don't think the new type would do me any good even if it existed," he adds a little darkly, the topic bringing him back to last night's failed attempt at seeking Calvin's help.

Michelle works as quickly as possible, getting his arm casted and ready to go while Brennan takes care of the prescriptions. "I think we can manage some of that," she notes, "We have some samples here we can pass over without attracting attention. The heavier hitters, of course, those will need the paperwork. But." Doable. To a degree. A frown comes to her face, though, regarding the flu. Occupational therapy is great and all, but it can only distract for so long.

"We don't have access to the latter here unfortunately Nick" Which means if he had some, he'd give some. "But between MIchelle and I, we can get away with writing a few prescriptions. Nothing large" He quietly laments, habitually looking over his wifes handiwork with a small grunt of approval at her finished product. "I'll toss in a few other things, that might come in handy. Pharmaceutical reps are good for some things" A flash of a quick grin there before he too is flickering his mind to their daughter.

"Is there anything that Michelle and I need to worry about York?" In other words, should they be getting their ass out of dodge? He knows that the Ferry sometimes, have their finger on the ongoings in the city that mundanes - normal people not affiliated with terrorists - might not otherwise know. "Your friends know something that Michelle and I should be aware of. For our families sake?"

Nick's eyes are downcast, watching the work on his arm, but he looks up to nod at the mention of the "extras" they'll toss in to the goodie bag.

Brennan's question brings a twitch in his jaw, fingers of the injured arm curling into a half fist before he remembers that it's broken. "I donno about anything knew coming down, no," he says with a shake of his head. He hasn't had the dreams that some of the others have had; he only knows of his personal problems in the future, and the vague dark picture painted for him by Benji at the meeting months ago.

"The version of the flu I had — let's just say it wasn't an accident, but it wasn't anyone of my 'friends' who was responsible for that." Clearly. "Things are probably gonna get worse in a lot of ways, if people don't figure out a way to live with one another."

"People never have been very good at living with one another," Michelle comments, summoning up a half-hearted crooked smile. No doubt there will be some family discussion later about what would be best for the children, when things do get worse as they tend to. But one thing's for sure, the doctors Brennan have never shied away from helping in a crisis.

"They've never seemed the type to release the sickness that ravaged you and is ravaging our daughter" Even the innocent, aren't safe. "If something comes down the pipes, you'll let us know?" He inquires, even as he's affixing a signature to a few of the prescriptions that are written. "And it goes without saying, that once Michelle writes a few, that you shouldn't fill them all in the same place yes?" he's gone serious, no half hearted smile from him even though Michelle offered one. "And no signatures on that cast for one day"

Nick's face grows more grim, though he offers a humorless smile at the warning not to get the cast signed. "Your kid has it?" he says, glancing from Brennan to Michelle, sympathy and worry obvious in his blue eyes. "God. That asshole…"

His good hand runs through his hair, wincing a little at the stitches in the laceration at his hairline. "Guy named Calvin Rosen," he says suddenly. "He's the one who released it. Had to have had help, though." He leaves off the whole time travelling part of the story. "Last I heard he was on Staten Island, in the Rookery."

"Our oldest," Michelle says with a nod. When she finishes, she goes to wash her hands, mostly out of habit and having an excuse to turn away from the menfolk for a moment.

When Nick explains who is responsible, she tenses up. It's one thing to know your kid is sick. It's another to know someone started it all deliberately. But Michelle, she isn't one for revenge-driven manhunts. Not that she wouldn't relish a chance to slap him a few times should they run into each other. So instead of responding, she looks to Brennan.

Or to know who the person is. Have sat across from them at a table. "Dr. Calvin Rosen?" Brennan's suddenly perking up, pen stilling on the chart as he looks to Michelle with deep groove in his forehead, reaching up to scrape a palm across his scruff. How many Calvin Rosen's could there really be. "Red haired with dreads? Likes eye liner" He leans to one side, palm moving down to rest on his knee and regard the floor, try to quell the anger that's starting to rise in him. Please don't let that be him.

"That's the guy," Nick says, nodding to Brennan's description of the man. "I didn't know he was a doctor or anything. No idea who he is, just that he did this, probably a vendetta against us 'sub-humans.'"

The word he'd been called the night before still rankling, Nick shakes his head angrily. "He's dangerous though. Metal kinesis, whatever you want to call it." He wiggles his fingers in the cast, then reaches for the scripts left for him.

"He's probably not working alone, but I don't know anything else," is something of the truth — he isn't about to explain how he knows it all, and looks nervously to Brennan, hoping he's not asked. That might get awkward.

"This is someone from the Suresh Center?" Former Center. Michelle puts a hand on her hip because… well, she didn't like that job from the beginning, as much as she supports him. But noticing the anger, she steps over to put a hand on his arm. Just a little comfort.

Nick, though, isn't off the hook. "You disn't work there, too, did you?" It isn't exactly asking him how he knows, but it is opening the door for him to explain, should he opt to.

"With the Institute as well" Just like him, except that Brennan also works for the DoEA. He rankles at the thought that possibly, the institute knew about this. He bristles at the possibility of having a face to put to the misery that his daughter is going through. "How sure are you of this? Would you stake your life on this York, that he's had a significant hand in this?" Brennan flexes his hand, forming a fist then forcing himself to relax it. "You think he's in the Rookery?"

"No, ma'am," Nick says honestly to Michelle, with a shake of his head, then watches Brennan carefully. Nervously.

"He was last night," he points out, standing so that he can get away quickly if need be. "I got the name from someone who knows him — not someone who works with him," is added quickly.

He puts the scrips in his pocket, then looks to Brennan. "Do me a favor and keep my name out of any investigations? If anything happens, I don't want to be tied to it, ya know?"

"Last night?" Michelle raises her eyebrow, no doubt making the connection between his current state and his running into someone unpleasant the night before. "We won't bring anything down on your head," yes, that's a we, she might argue with him in private over his shenanigans, but outwardly she's all about the team spirit. "How could anyone do something like this?" That's mostly rhetoric, and spoken to her husband, in their shared fear and grief at the situation.

"I'm not going to be doing any investigating of that kind, but if it should happen, I'll keep your name out of it York. Wouldn't do to see you strung up from a lamp post again and any of your friends look my way" THey've threatened him enough as it is in the past and he echoes his wife's sentiments. "If anything feels wrong or off" He gestures to Nick's arm, apparently done discussing for now things Calvin Rosen and viral, attention back to the arm. "Come back. Give us a call, we'll get your sorted"

Nick rises and gives Brennan another nod, his eyes less wary but his posture still tense. "Thanks," he says, bringing his cast up to indicate his gratitude, before nodding to Michelle as well.

He begins to make his way to the door, before turning around once more. "I hope your little girl gets better. She's in good hands. If…"

A shake of his head dismisses anything he was about to say. "Good luck."

Michelle smiles just a little, before making sure he gets his paperwork before they part ways. "You'll get him the samples, won't you?" She says to Brennan before adding to Nick, "Let me call you a cab." It's an offer she isn't taking a 'no' to, as she turns to head out of the room and off to the office. Calling a cab and taking a few moments on her own. She doesn't cry in front of patients, even ones she's taken a particular shine to, like Nick.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License