Participants:
| Scene Title | The Tissue Solution |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Every family has a strategist. When faced with a problem that seems to have no viable solution, Delia chooses the route of the short bus. |
| Date | April 18, 2011 |
Bradley Russo works until a little before 7pm, this much Delia knows from her time living with her brother. The paper sack curled into her right hand has a few grease stains on the bottom, a peace offering of sorts, a cheeseburger from one of her favorite places. After all of their time together, she doesn't know if the celebrity likes her favorite food.
She's not wearing the shearling coat he gave her as an apology, it's too warm outside. Instead her long grey cardigan that had been stored at the bookstore for much too long is layered over a pair of faded jeans and a long sleeved t-shirt that doesn't belong to her. It was fresh from the wash when she nabbed it and there was no scent to distinguish it from any of her three room mates. Lucille can attest, Delia has always been a clothes thief.
The security station halts her progress, forcing her to stop and sign in, go through the laborious process of getting a pass before she's allowed in. She's never been here before and with all the celebrities bustling through the hallway, the redhead is a little star struck. Half the time, she's walking backward to see who she just passed. Russo is so lucky to be working with all of these people. He's so lucky to be one of them.
Not everyone bustling through the hallways is a celebrity. Most of them just work for them. Like Kincaid. After six months of thinking of himself as August, even in his mind Russo comes too easy, which is why he always looks over when someone calls for the man whom he occasionally assists. The glance could be easily dismissed. After all it's the name of the face of a show he assists with. And a name that draws eyes.
Even here.
The hall sports an advertisement, Bradley Russo's large face and blue eyes bright and strong, an advocate for the people… Or that would be what people would hope for.
Hands deep in his black dress pants, his shoulders hunched, he looks as if his thoughts are a thousand miles away— or thirty years in the future. It means he failed to notice when Delia spins and walks backwards to look at someone she recognizes— and run into him.
With a stumble, he reaches his hands out to catch her upper arms, "Sorry, I wasn't…" He thought he was at fault, but the apology stops. "Delia?"
Blue eyes that match Brad's fly wide open and Delia sucks in a gasp of air, about to let out a slough of apologies before she recognizes Kincaid. "Caid!" The exclamation of his name comes along with a bright smile and a light grip on his arm, maybe to steady herself. "Sorry for running into you like that, I— I was going to find Brad. I have something that some friends of mine found, it has his face on it."
She looks past the tall man and then back up at his face, raising her eyebrows a little. "Is he here?" The last bit has a hopeful little grimace tacked on, like she's afraid that he's avoiding her. "I— I'm all legit now, registered and everything so I don't have to hide. He doesn't have to be all aaaaaa if he sees me or anything, I don't think I'll ruin his career anymore."
"You're what?" Kincaid exclaims, sounding rather stunned by this proclaimation, rather than relieved. In fact he looks more worried than he did when he recognized her in the hall, looking around quickly and then… shaking his head. It's a little sad, the sigh he makes, a mix of sad and tired, all in one.
"Well it's good to see you. I'm glad you're safe and… and safe." With a glance, he's looking back up at the advertisement. "You're here to see him, I take it? I'm sure he'll be happy to see you. The two of you probably have a lot to catch up on since the last time you saw each other."
Delia shrinks when Kincaid questions her status so abruptly and rather loudly. "Uhm— y-yeah. I— I— A m-man, M-mister Logan helped me." Her eyes lower to the floor and she swallows audibly, inching the bag of cheeseburgers toward the assistant producer. "Cheeseburger?" It's a peace offering.
She risks a glance at Brad's giant face on the wall and lifts one shoulder in a shrug. "I don't know if he'll be so happy to see me. We never really part on good terms. I just figured he'd be happy that I'm registered, he wanted me to do it. I live in Eltingville now. You should see the house I live in, it's like… the best one there. I'm pretty sure Mister Logan is rich or something because it's full of really great antiques and he gave me a credit card to finish decorating it."
"And you're in Eltingville…" Kincaid says, raising a hand to press against his forehead. It's almost as if the whole thing has given him quite a headache. That tired and sorrow filled sigh comes again. But he tries to shake it off— "I'm glad you're enjoying yourself. Sorry— I'm just having a bad day…" he apologizes.
He's been doing that a lot today. Mostly for reasons he can't really explain. "I'm not really in the mood for a cheeseburger. Thank you, though," he says with a smile, that seems rehearsed. "I kept expecting to see you drop into my dreams— but you never did again— Though I guess I was out of reach a couple times." In the Dome. In the West. "Do you want me to show you to his office?"
Not really, but she's making the best of the situation. "Enjoying myself… right," Delia gives Kincaid a small smile and lowers her head lowering the bag to follow him down the hall. "If he's not here, I can just leave the clipping, it's uhm…" She looks up at him and narrows her eyes a little bit, pursing her lips.
Wiping her hand off on her pants, she dips her hand into her pocket and pulls out the small article with the picture of Russo and a boy. "I met a clairvoyant or something, he said that if I went back to the island I'd die. So I sort of made arrangements for myself, I couldn't live on favors forever so I decided to pay one back. I'm working for Mister Logan now."
There's a tightening of her jaw at the mention of a clairvoyant saying something like that. "Maybe you shouldn't listen to everything strangers tell you," Kincaid says quietly, still looking at the wall picture of Russo. But that's as far as he even gets on that topic before his mind is completely taken over by something else.
Because he looked down at the picture of her brother and the boy.
"…where did you get that?" he asks breathlessly, reaching toward it. Everything else she may have said vanishes with this new piece of information.
"I did and— " Her train of thought is interrupted by the assistant producer lifting the article from her hand. Delia lets it slip easily from her grasp as she eyes Kincaid even more, her eyes squinting slightly before she lets off, "I met Jasmine. You, Ingrid, Lene, and Joshua— you all know each other, you all know my son."
The delivery is quiet, unwavering, and matter of fact, like she won't accept a dismissal of the subject. She reaches into her pocket again and this time pulls out a piece of paper that looks like a xerox copy of a rubbing. "And this is my daughter. She's dead." Again, matter of fact, no tears or whistful sighs, just a fact. "Friends of mine found a box, they called it 'from the future'."
From the future.
There's a moment where Kincaid seems quite breathless, but then his free hand reaches down toward her arm to begin to move her along. "Let's get out of the hall." His hands aren't rough, but they do insist. This isn't the topic for the middle of the hallway—
Though if anyone overhears he can say she's pitching a show idea. Time travel is big in some shows.
"I knew that she was going to tell you, but— " he shakes his head. He didn't look surprised really. Not the kind of surprised that didn't already know what she was talking about, at least. Once they're inside his office, he closes the door so that he can look back at her and ask plainly. "How'd the meeting go?
Once they're safely tucked into the office, Delia finds a chair and sits heavily in it. "Awkward, at first," she replies honestly, her lips turned downward a little in anxiety. "It's not hard to believe, I mean, I went Vietnam with Brad to save Dad… Who knows how many times the same sort of thing's happened, right?" The bag is unrolled and one of the cheeseburgers is taken out and unwrapped. Of course it's offered to Kincaid first, even though he did refuse the first offer. It's only polite.
"I have a bunch of stuff from the box, I took all the pictures and things of the people I knew and I could get in touch with." She's met with one already, they just didn't get past arguing for her to actually give him the picture. "The rubbing, that's mine— Benji— Jasmine— I didn't even ask which name she likes to be called. Jasmine— I guess but… I'm scared I was a horrible mother and that's why it was so awkward. She said I was sad… I don't understand why."
"Wasn't a very happy time to be living in," Kincaid says quietly, not even noticing the offered burger as he moves to fall into the chair behind the desk, so that he can look at the photograph more. Flipping it over, he sees the magazine advertisement and sighs a bit, before setting it down. "Benji works, she just doesn't like Ben or Benjamin," he says, an absent tone to his voice as he finally looks back up.
"You weren't a bad mom, though— or a bad aunt, for that matter," he says, stating his opinion on the matter, before motioning down to the picture. "That one's mine. I already told Russo, too, but… he'll probably still want to see it. The picture."
The proof.
"I guess it's yours more than his anyway, why don't you keep it?" The news that she wasn't all bad puts a little bit of a smile on her face before Delia takes a bite from the cheeseburger and chews it. After the first bite, she folds the waxy paper back over the partially eaten burger and tucks it back into the bag. Hopefully her brother won't pick that particular burger to pull from the bag before she gets to it again.
"Benji, okay, so— you knew me? Brad and I weren't always… " the redhead pauses for a moment to try to find the right words and presses her lips together, giving a quick glance toward the door. "We weren't always like this? He won't always hate me?" Such a strong word, hate, but it's certainly not love.
This set of questions make Kincaid look down toward the picture again, examining it quietly as if trying to make a decision. "Things are going to be different from what I could tell you happened. They already are in a lot of little ways— and the little ways are the ones we notice most." In the grand scheme of the world, a family changed is little.
"I think you can fix things— don't let what happened where I'm from dictate anything. I already don't plan to let my dad go down the path he'd been on. And staying close to his family is one of things… that I mean to make sure he does."
"He gave up on me, I think," Delia shrugs one shoulder, trying to appear nonchalant but failing miserably. Another weak attempt is made when she directs a bittersweet smile at her nephew and lets loose a long breath through her nose. "I just can't live the way he wants or make him happy doing everything he wants all the time. I'm not like him, you know? It just seems like if I don't agree with him or do what he says he just writes me off. Family doesn't do that, they at least try to understand each other." Or support each other.
"Anyway, mine's changed already too. I don't think Beth will be born," her voice is a little quiet, laced with regret. "Can I ask you a question? Do you think she has to be born for Benji? I mean— I'm pretty sure I have feelings for Nick, strong ones. I don't know how this works."
"Wow, you don't ask the easy questions at all, do you," Kincaid says with a shake of his head, and even a joyless laugh. It isn't a joyful moment at all. "I don't know," is his response after a few moments. "I don't know how this works. I just know that I won't be born in this timeline, so I'm just going to have to live the most I can while I'm in it."
Reserved, but not really happy about his situation. Kincaid's accepted it.
Sitting up in his seat. "As for Russo— he still cares about you. Maybe you should take it to him— it would give you something to talk about. That and bonding over future children— he might need someone to talk to about that. Someone besides me."
"All the questions I want to ask, I don't know if I should." Delia says quietly, crumpling her bag at the top to preserve what little heat is left in the burgers. "Benji said she'd show me more, so I'm just going to wait. Maybe try to piece everything together with Kaylee so we can try to make it— not a horrible place to live."
Furrowing her eyebrows a little, she presses her lips together and pushes herself up from the chair. "Hey— I— " she chews on her lip and then moves toward Kincaid to wrap her arms around him in a hug. "Don't lose hope, okay? I mean… you're not supposed to be born for a few years, right? A lot can happen between now and then. Maybe your parents will fall in love or something."
"I think the only chance of my being born hinges on sperm theft," Kincaid says in a jesting tone, completely reminiscent of his father. And nearly as inappropriate. "Anyway, some things are better off not happening. I think Brad— " He hesitates, still so used to calling him by his name.
"I think my dad will find more happiness in other places. And I think happiness at home is the most important thing there is. So don't worry about me. You're my family right now."
Is that enough? Maybe it has to be.
"Sperm theft, got it." There's something oddly unsettling about the way Delia takes note of that particular tidbit. Pulling back from the hug, she sets the bag down on his desk, the grease already leaving a nice little stain on his blotter calender. "I know where he keeps all his tissues, I was going to sell some on ebay. So it's completely plausible. We can make it happen."
It sounds so, so, wrong.
"I don't think you're better off not happening, Caid. I mean, you're here and— " Suddenly Delia falls silent and grows somewhat sullen, a sentiment that she doesn't keep for long as she pastes a fake smile on her face. "You know… It might still happen that your parents fall in love. You have a few years still, right? Crazier things have happened. I'll always be your family… Have you met Lu yet? My sister? She's going to go insane over you."
That makes him blink visibly and then stare at her. "Delia. That— no. Please— god, I don't even— how can you say that after you just ate," Kincaid rubs his face, trying to figure out if she's joking or not— if it were coming from someone who wasn't his aunt he might not find the statements so disturbing.
But as they are, they are quite.
"I— no, I haven't met Lu here," he finally says after his mind settles. He was rubbing his face as if trying to wash it out of his mind. It doesn't quite work that way. "Do you know how to contact her?"
"Uhm.. Nnnot really. She's sort of homeless right now, I offered Nicole's place for her." She stops talking for a split second before defending herself on that statement. "ONLY because I can't give her a place to stay. I would have totally brought her home if I could get her through the fence." But she's not registered and Delia's not exactly willing to put her beloved Lulu through all of that. It might be a hint for Kincaid.
"She won't go back to where Dad lives, she says it's not her scene. I'm sort of worried about her because she's like… homeless and stuff. Since Jaiden's place got raided." Plucking a pen out of the holder, she scribbles a number down on the blotter pad. "This is the last number I know for her, Nicole might have given her a different one though."
"Nicole Nichols?" Kincaid confirms after a moment, before he takes the piece of paper and considers it with his eyes for a moment. And then he nods. "Now that it's all out, I won't have to worry too much about one of you staying with me," he says, apparently having taken the hint.
"I didn't mean to shuffle you off so fast when you were— but… before you guys found that box…" He picks up the picture, standing up out of his seat at the desk so he can move closer.
"I still think you should take this to him— talk to him about it. It would mean a lot to me…" And probably to her, too. And now that he's standing, he reaches an arm out— to return that hug he didn't before.
"Yeah Nicole Nichols, she's engaged to Brad? Or was? I don't know… I haven't spoken to him in forever and you know how women are." She cracks a grin at that before patting him on the shoulder in return for the hug and moving off. "And trust me, I get it… It'd be a little weird explaining everything. I'd probably wig out if I hadn't— You probably heard the story a bazillion times so I won't bore you with the details. But I met THE Daniel Linderman. THE. Most famous healer ever~." The redhead seems a little proud of that fact.
Picking up the picture, Delia tucks it back into the pocket of her cardigan and nods to Caid. "I'll try to talk to him, I can't promise he'll listen to me though. He usually just gets all mad or all quiet. If he cannon handses me, you get to pick up the bill because my job doesn't offer a great medical plan." More like a back alley medical plan, all things considered.
The Daniel Linderman just earns a mild raising of an eyebrow. It doesn't look like he's nearly as impressed as he could be. Kincaid won't go into all the people he met in his youth, being the son of the Mayor of New York City—
"He was upset about that— breaking the mirror. Seven years of bad luck— and possibly ruining his relationship with you in the process." That hug is a little stronger for a moment. "Maybe see him in a dream? On your own terms. But I think in person would be… better."
The scarred hand comes up, to pinch her on the tip of the nose. His supposed to be older younger aunt. "You're cuter in person."
"I went to see him a couple of times after the mirror, he didn't seem so upset about our relationship. He sort of just seemed like he already wrote me off." Probably for her own good or to protect her or whatever nonsense men come up with as excuses. Regardless, Delia's nose wrinkles after the pinch and she rubs the tip trying to get it to not go red after the light tweak.
"But don't worry, I'll go see him in person, not in a dream. Since I can walk around and stuff now, it's easy peasy." A crooked smile is delivered to Kincaid before she shoots a glance at the door and then up at him with a hopeful little flutter of her eyelashes. "While I'm here though… Do you think you could introduce me to some people so I can get autographs? Can I meet Smoov?"