Three Days Later


cat_icon.gif danielle_icon.gif

Scene Title Three Days Later
Synopsis A reflection on a homecoming.
Date September 20, 2008

Dorchester Towers: Cat's Apartment

It's been three days since Dani was brought home from the hospital, an hour or two after the detective left. Cat's seated in the main room, at about nine in the morning, with guitar in hand. Fingers lightly go over the strings and frets, making little sound since this particular electric model isn't plugged into an amp. She's just thinking, playing back the memory of that morning when they returned here. Every detail is fresh, like she's right there again in the moment.

She unlocks the door to let Dani go in ahead of her and see the main room has been repaired; there's no trace left of Peter Petrelli's artwork on windows and carpeted floor.

Dani's been having a rough time of things. Physically, she's better…the bruises have faded, and she's in good shape there. But mentally, not so much. The official diagnosis is post-concussion syndrome, which is a pretty way of saying "mild brain injury". They've got her on pretty strong painkillers for the headaches, but the more troubling problem is the issue with her short-term memory; all the more stark given Cat's memory. Dani steps inside. If she realizes the difference to the artwork, she makes no comment on it…the reporter moves inside. "Thanks for the lift, Cat. I have to call work, bring them up to speed. Gotta set up a time to get back on the horse."

"You don't have to do that right away, Dani," Cat replies quietly. She's not showing concern, her demeanor is perfect confidence and happiness to have the reporter back at home. Worries over how long the mental effects remain and what it'll take in assisting her are well concealed. "Are you hungry or thirsty?" Cat settles into a seat, one of the recliners, while speaking.

She smiles. "Yeah, actually. Really thirsty. Some of these meds are giving me dry mouth. No food, though. I'm a little queasy."

"Okay." Cat enters the kitchen and returns a short time later with two glasses of Pepsi. She's herself hungry, but not eating just yet. One of them is handed to the shorter one, their fingers touching in the exchange and eye contact being made.

Danielle smiles. "It's good to be back home. You have NO IDEA how tired I was of getting poked with needles. And tests. And what passes for fashion in a hospital. I swear it's a design so guys can check out our asses."

"Who can blame them?" she asks with a laugh while moving to retake her seat. Cat's eyes close briefly, then reopen to focus on the tv set across the room for a moment. She begins to think of security needs, the groups of off duty police officers will begin occupying the hall soon, that much she arranged already. And the issue of personal assistance given the memory issues is mulled over too. While considering these topics she drinks from her own glass.

Danielle smiles. "I honestly didn't expect to get caught up in all this. Or to get you caught up in it. Right now, I just want to get back into the swing of things."

Skepticism, unexpressed, is Cat's regarding Dani getting back into the swing of things. She wants to observe and see how well she can function with her lack of short term memories for now. "Where'd you put the food we brought back with us?" she asks.

Danielle blinks in surprise. "We just got back, Cat. What food?" She looks over to the musician, and then looks around the room for any sign of any food.

There isn't any. "Are you ready to eat?" she asks. Cat lifts the glass and takes another drink. Nothing is said about whether or not food was actually brought.

Dani looks upset. "What food, Cat?" It's said insistantly. Almost snappishly. It's getting to her more than she would admit, and it shows through at moments like this.

It's a bullet she has to bite. "We didn't bring any, but there are things in the cooler to eat if you want. Just a few minutes ago, though, you said you were queasy. This will pass, but you might not be ready to work yet." Cat's words are spoken quietly, calmly.

Danielle closes her eyes a moment, and fights back a reaction. She finally says "I don't have a choice, Cat. Brand new reporter with no pedigree shows up and immediately starts hitting her insurance for hundreds of thousands of dollars before she's even shown up at the office? If I don't bring them something good…like this story…they'll drop me like I'm radioactive. I have to do this."

"You'll be recovered, your memory will work like it should in less than a week," Cat replies in perfect calm. It might not, but she believes it will. Because it has to. She won't countenance the chance it might, and hopes to persuade Dani to allow that time. "Your boss understands, and you're not hitting any insurance. I've got it covered. Completely." The hospital bill is paid, Cat handled it in full view of the reporter when she checked out.

Of course, there's no guarantee she remembers that. "You can't do that, Cat. We're talking six figures. It's too much." she says, protesting the decision. She tries to look stern at her taller roommate.

"We're talking one week to let your memory return," Cat states softly. "You can do that. But, if you won't, what's your plan to manage things?" It's a concession, that she may not be able to dissuade Dani's intentions.

Dani looks upset. "I don't know. I'll keep notes. Or use my recorder. Or something. There's got to be a way around it, Cat." She's frustrated. Inactivity doesn't suit her.

"That could work," Cat replies, pensively. "The recorder probably isn't the best idea, but a notepad would do the job. You could keep it in your hand, the thing stays in sight. If you lose your bearings, what you were last doing is right there, quickly found."

Dani nods. "See?" She says, pouncing on the idea. "Besides, this thing is just short-term. I do this for a few days, and then everything's all good again." Cause brain damage is just a quick little inconvenience, you know.

She doesn't believe any of this is permanent; Cat isn't countenancing that line of thought. If it turns out to be lasting, well, she'll take the situation in hand and get an Evolved healer to end the problem. But this isn't spoken aloud. A few steps are taken, she places hands on the recovering one's shoulders and starts to rub them gently.

Danielle smiles faintly at the touch. "Thanks…I'm sorry. I know I've probably been an utter bitch to deal with lately. I so didn't mean to drag you into this whole mess."

"We are where we are, Dani," Cat replies. "I can't keep you from chasing down stories, no matter the danger, any more than you can keep me from meeting with people of the activist variety."

Danielle can't help it. She laughs a little at that. "Sleeping pills and handcuffs." She recommends.

"There will be stories in this for you, career making goods which can be published without endangering any of them," Cat asserts. She firmly believes it, the trick is in observation and picking the right subject to report on. Her hands leave Dani's shoulders a few moments later; Cat moves away to grab a standard sized notepad from the shared bedroom and return with it. A pen too.

Danielle smiles "I know. I just…" And then Cat is back with a pen and pad, and she laughs. "I'm not using it HERE. -You- have a perfect memory. You can remember for both of us."

"Yes," she replies. A chair is setted into, and her hand begins to move atop the first page. She writes in large letters, to stand out from anything to come below it, a simple instruction. Dani! Don't let this out of your sight, ever! It's passed over, as she states calmly "I do. But you need to practice this, leaving notes and instructions to yourself on the page and not letting it out of view."

Danielle looks miffed. "I'm not gonna forget what the notebook is for." She makes a face.

"It's not about you remembering what the pad is for," Cat explains in a softer voice, "it's about keeping it in plain sight so you have important facts recently picked up right there, without having to remember where you put it."

Dani nods. "I…ugh. You're right. I'm sorry. I'm snapping again. I don't mean to." She takes the pad, and picks it up. "Just one more way for me to feel inferior."

/"Stop that!" Cat insists, her voice raising a bit. "You. are. not. inferior! This is simply the use of a tool to achieve goals. Is someone inferior because she needs to use a wrench to turn a bolt instead of using just her fingers?"//

Dani sighs. "No, she's inferior when her brain doesn't work as well as a factory original, Cat." A morose tone from the shorter brunette. "Not to mention I feel like I'm constantly alienating your friends or getting in the way. I feel like SUCH a fifth wheel."

"You've only met one," Cat replies quietly, "and they're people I just met. I've been in New York less than a month, we go back much further than that. I don't have any thoughts about you being the extra. And I won't have you thinking that about yourself."

Dani smiles faintly. "Well, unless your trick extends to yanking the thoughts out of people's heads, I don't think they're going away anytime soon, Cat.

"That's their problem, not ours," Cat asserts softly.

Her travel down the aisles of perfect memory, recalling that conversation from three days before, ends there. Cat sets the guitar aside and pads down the hall to the bedroom, opens the door, and walks in. "Morning, Dani," she offers, looking over at the bed to see if signs of waking are present.

Dani stirs a little, at Cat's voice. "Mmmph. Morning, Kit-Kat." She swings her legs out of bed, and sits up, groaning just a little as she does. "What time is it?"

"It's nine, Courtney," she replies with a grin, watching the shorter one sit up. "A few hours past dark o' clock." Cat is dressed casually, she's been up for a while and had a shower already. Her eyes watch the other woman for signs of progress, no matter how small, in recovering from the injuries to mind and body.

Danielle makes a face and sticks her tongue out at Cat at the dreaded C-Name. So far, there's been signs of improvement to body…but no sign of improvement to brain. According to the literature and websites, it's almost impossible to predict recovery. Some people recover in weeks. Others months. Still others, never.

None of her thoughts are let on, the concern is concealed, because to Cat it isn't really a concern. If anything, in her eyes, it'll be a call to more direct action. This will not be lasting. She won't allow that to happen.

She smiles playfully when the tongue is extended, and makes her way out of the room. There shall soon be food, and coffee.

September 19th: Disappearing Act, Take Two

Previously in this storyline…
Baton Passed

Next in this storyline…
Special Delivery

September 20th: Judgment Day
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