Participants:
| Scene Title | Tell Her I'm Trying |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Dema catches up with Brennan to tell him where they stand and leaves the Doctor with trying to scrap together plan B. |
| Date | December 9, 2010 |
Suresh Center - Brennan's Office
For all that it has been labor after labor, Dema has enjoyed spending so much time sifting through the dreams of others. His direct manifestation is very rare - as a rule, Dema treads lightly in the minds of others. This strange, abstract travel is not unlike dreaming for him, but vivid, lucid, sharp. A much better place than the drab routine in the employ of the Institute.
But he cannot forget that he is out there on assignment. And he is being reminded now. He should have filed his report immediately, but instead Dema waited until his routine visit. An otherwise mutely efficient worker, he has dragged his feet a little on this one. He has seen enough of the girl to have reservations about putting her near the power of this organization.
The great big man steps into Dr. Brennan's office, dressed in his crisp orderly whites. He folds his hands before him, gives a bow in the direction of the doctor's desk, and moves to take a seat.
Brennan's busy, writing reports, filling in forms and if Dema knew that Brennan too didn't want Delia anywhere near the Institute, he might not be so worried. "You found her again yet? Please tell me you found her" He's bypassing the pleasantries that society dictates, delving right into the whole reason that the two of them are in the same room together that doesn't involve a pink slip or a patient.
This is a mission. It's extrasocietal. Dema does not mind that they cut to the chase. "Better," he says, giving a nod of augmented agreement, "also her body, though not specifically. New Jersey. I do not know how far from the border. Her mind- I can find this, I think. Her father gave me a link."
Her body. He found her… body? Brennan looks up from the copious notes he's making, laying his pen down. "I poked Doctor Luis and Julie's mind. I am going to track down a telepath, Matthew Parkman. I was also told that you were familiar with a person named Jet? That she's a posessor, can jump into an individual's body and take control of it."
This is not a setting in which Dema expected to hear Jet's name. It actually takes him a moment to realize who's even being referred to. Jet? Juliet. Christine. A clustering of names. "Her body was killed in the Staten Island facility," he states, the low rumble of his voice near toneless., "who she is now, I do not know."
Then the avenue is no longer open to them. There's a flicker o f something, not anger, more disappointment. Not that anything was easy, but this just made it that much more complicated. "There's a plan, but it hinged on jet and you supposedly able to transport her via the dreams to her body. So she could possess the body and then walk it somewhere where we could pick it up and take her to the telepath. The plan had been to have the telepath grab her, by the toe essential, and keep her put, you take Jet to the body, pour her into the unconscious body and then we bring the two together, the telepath helps to usher Delia into her body"
Brennan takes up his pen, tapping the notepad. "I don't know how much longer we have. The longer she's there, the worse it will be for her, or so reasearch has told me. I've put out feeler with a few people but I have nothing."
He has nothing. He's failing her.
Dema's deep set blue eyes remain impassive, though he gives a very small shrug. "I cannot help you in this way," he says, "Even if Jet were with us. I do not know how to get to the girl's body, not without the girl leading me. There is no one to find."
"So we have nothing" Brennan looks towards the window, blinds drifting in the gentle flow of air that keeps the place warm. The city outside the window and the ground of the Suresh Center. "We have a way to catch her, way to keep her, but we don't have a god damned way to find her body" Brennan pushes away from the desk, throwing his pen down so he can march over to the window, yank down on the cord that will pull the slats to one side, open up the view so he can stare out with a stern jaw and hands on his hips, forcing the tails of his white lab coat to bunch up.
"I am sorry," Dema says, thought it's impossible to tell if he really is. There is a brief pause, then, "she knows where her body is. That is where she is going now, trying to find her way. She may not need us. She could find herself. That is what we want, yes?"
'What I want is for her to not be so stupid to have gotten herself into the position in the first place. I don't want her to end up like the last oniermancer who went tripping daisies through peoples minds and killed them. People with such abilities, will get the attention of the wrong people in the ins-" He cuts himself off, one hand going to his mouth to rub at his jaw, a five o'clock shadow even this early in the afternoon.
"She was a patient Dema. She's hurt. Oaths I took demand that I help her if she's hurt, be it physical or metaphysical. I don't want her hurt and I don't want her to die and if there's something I can do to make sure that doens't happen, then… we'll do it"
Dema's hands leave his lap, parting, palms open and up. "What I can do, I will do," he says, "maybe I can give her more time? Keep her from losing herself. I do not know, she may run from me, and I do not want her to hide, I will lose her."
"Tell her I'm trying to find her body. I have a way, I have a way to get her into it, but I need to find her body. If you come across her again" he wants to put his fist through the window, Kick his foot in the wall with frustration. "Tell her Doctor Brennan is working on it. To hold on" He waves a hand towards the door, Dema is dismissed apparently.
He has his instructions. Dema isn't interested in lingering for post-converation pleasantries either. He rises from his seat, gives another small, deferential bow, and heads for the door. He'll be dreaming soon, coasting from nap to nap, following the flight of a red feather.