Reading Into Recovery

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Scene Title	Reading Into Recovery
Synopsis	Bryan visits Elle in the hospital wing of Primatech. Elle, though exhausted, has some questions of her own.
Date	October 31, 2008

Primatech Research: Infirmary

It's been a rough couple of weeks for the two Bishops in the Company, though for Elle, it's been one fatigue after another. She's been in the hospital wing since the rescue, more to make a slow, precautionary recovery than because she's in truly critical condition. The blonde Agent is currently resting on her side in a bed, staring sideways at the wall, white sheets pulled up just beneath her elbows. Her face is pale, and her eyes look- with good reason- as though they haven't caught a good night's rest in weeks. Worse than the superficiality of bumps, light bruises, and surface cuts is the soreness itself, its heaviness pulling her into sleep for hours at a time. Her suddenly inspired attack at the scene of the rescue hadn't helped; after so long without use, her power had taken everything out of her.

A book lies closed on the dresser beside her head, however, bookmark tasseling out like a tongue. She hasn't been /entirely/ comatose.

From the doorway, it looks like Elle is asleep, and were he any other man coming to call on her, Bryan might take that as a sign and put off his visit. As it is, he simply treads softly, his leather-soled shoes brushing quietly against the tiled floor, and takes a seat on the edge of Elle's bed. Bryan takes a moment to smooth his jean-clad thigh before he picks up the book, curious of what the younger and pluckier Bishop has chosen as her recuperative reading material.

From the cover, it appears to be a racy bestseller - the kind that sparks at the top of the list but quickly fades to the bottom. Probably not the kind of book that would hold any particular appeal for Bryan, though who knows? Elle, at any rate, isn't as out of it as she might seem at first. Her ears, tired as they are, have long learned to listen for footsteps of any sort entering her room (a thanks to her recent experiences). She doesn't roll over, but stays listening with a mixture of tiredness and mildly alert, on-the-spot curiosity.

The strange truth is that Bryan isn't much of a fiction fan, so while he reads the back-cover synopsis and the quoted reviewer raves about the novel, he doesn't crack the spine. The book is laid back down, and Bryan's attention falls to Elle herself. As a man trained to watch people from afar in order to plan and execute an accurate and intelligent strike, it isn't hard for him to discern that she /is/ indeed awake by her respiration rate and posture.

"Doctor Knutson /and/ Doctor Salonga would tell you that you need your rest," Bryan says in a soft tone, his expression changing from concentration to concern. "And if they /agree/, you know it's what you need."

Though rimmed with unhealthy shadows, Elle's eyes glitter in something of their old, amusedly narrowed expression. Her upper torso and left elbow shift a little, settling towards Bryan in a slight rotation so she's more on her back than her side. "I'm fine, Bryan," she answers in a reasonably strong volume, falling still as she does. "It's those two who'll need rest after I'm through hurting them - argh-" Yes, it /does/ appear that that's what she's been preoccupied with all this time, tellingly enough. She's rolled onto a fresh bruise. Forgot about that one.

"You're not going to be hurting /anyone/ until /you're/ done getting better," Bryan insists, making a fuss of tugging up Elle's blankets. "Last thing you'd need when going up against Munroe's new plaything is a short." He sighs, then leans back and rests his hands on his lap, shaking his head. "Patience, Elle. This is a vengeance you can let cool before you throw it in anyone's deserving face."

Elle relaxes and lets the blankets be adjusted around her without a struggle, though it's done more for Bryan's sake than her own. She looks sulky. "We could've /got/ them that night if we stayed, I know it. And you know I don't have a million years like Adam does." Nevertheless, Bryan does have a point.

Elle's been without newspapers, radio, and television. Without contact or word from the outside world for weeks. "You remember Parkman, right?" he says in a more dour, reserved tone. "Huruma made a snack of his arm one night, while you were…gone." Still, there's no telling what Elle herself has seen the barbaric woman do, especially with Adam nearby. "Our first priority was getting you /out/ of there."

That is interesting. Elle had not known that, though it doesn't come as a surprise at all. The comment on getting Elle out of there touches a subtle nerve in her, perhaps sour self-consciousness, and she subsides a little more. Though not before asking: "Mr. HS? Really? Wouldn't he, like, have guys with him to protect him?"

"He's not Nathan Petrelli, Elle," Bryan says in a slightly condescending, big-brother-like tone. "And he isn't /Mr./ H.S. He's just their shiniest toy with the highest rank." It pays to do research on government officials, especially if, as a Company Agent, you have to off them someday. "But it doesn't really matter, does it? More people might have just meant more carnage."

"I know who he is, Bryan." Through her haggardness, a twinge of irritation places itself in Elle's slumped posture. "Maybe know more about them than /you/, even though I haven't been around." Her eyes stare straight forward, her jaw in a sulky line, though both lack their usual bold energy. "What else's been going on around here? I feel like I've been in another world, or something." The word /world/ is a short exhalation that hints at the bite of a laugh, though humorless.

Bryan shrugs his shoulders. "Not much, other than everyone trying to bend over backwards looking for you." He smiles, then reaches to pat the young woman's leg below he knee. "Peter Petrelli blacked out after their little heist, had a spell where he couldn't remember anything since his brother ran for Senate, but now he's got his brain back and he gets to call himself a paper salesman at parties."

"We're agents," Elle says in half a mumble, twitching her knee sideways a little after Bryan's pat. "That. We're supposed to do it." With that, after a moment's pause, she rolls her back to Bryan again, shoulders inching up in a posture of exhaustion. "…Leave…me alone. I want to sleep." Which is almost all she's been doing; and now she's returning to it. Anything her fellow agent says now will be lost over the head of that curled, blanketed form, blonde hair splayed out over her pillow. Zztime.