Till Death Do Us Part


moriarti_icon.gif yana_icon.gif

Scene Title Till Death Do Us Part
Synopsis …is not good enough for Yana. Recent events involving the DoEA and her ability spur Yana to start turning up the heat. Plans to snag a DoEA agent of her very own in the works. It is much more complicated than she realizes, but still, the die is cast.
Date June 14, 2011

Special Surgery Hospital

After a few weeks of being under the care of her father's hospital, her doctors finally were permitted to release her into her own care. Through no amount of complaining on her part, Yana actually, proved that she is capable of handling herself from now on by not staying put. She refused to listen when they told her to stay in bed, and in doing so, she did most things without assistance. Which actually, is much more than she normally does, as she has Christopher take care of most of her affairs. In doing so, she has shown her father that she is more likely going to get better in her own care as opposed to being in the hospital, simply because she won't stay still. And he is pretty sure that she is doing it on purpose. So, he has her released.

Since Christopher is off taking care of some very important matters for Yana, she doesn't have her normal driver. Not to mention, her recent visit from a particular DoEA agent, and an offer that she couldn't really refuse, has Yana set on the path to acquiring the necessary materials to spin a brand new web. Thomas Moriarti being an integral part to that web. Her father say he will have his driver come and get her, but Yana refuses. She has other plans. Such as calling Moriarti and requesting that he be the one to retrieve her. The new dance begins, and Yana takes one of her more unused masks from it's case.

The poor Federal agent, being spun up into Yana's web, and he doesn't even realize it. Or spun up into his boss' web, but that aspect he is totally clueless on; whatever plans the DoEA has for Yana, Moriarti hasn't been brought in on them. No doubt that's a meeting to come later, out of the blue; like that phone call from Yana, the news that she was being released from the hospital, and the request that he provide her transportation. An offer that Moriarti couldn't exactly refuse, as low-key as he is trying to keep the situation.

Moriarti was just as prompt as Yana ever was, arriving at the hospital right on time, rapping his knuckles on the door to her soon-to-be vacated room. "Doctor Blite? It's Thomas Moriarti…" he announces from the other side. No reusable bags full of breakfast this morning as he waits on the outside, hands clasped behind his back as he awaits permission to enter.

In a word or so, Yana is ready. And the nursing staff is ready to release her. The woman is deathly frightening, and horribly manipulative. She had several of them doing things that went beyond their span of duties, and had them under the mindset that if they didn't do it, they would be fired, or worse. But not through any threat from her. She is good about getting into people's heads like that. So it should come as no surprise that a nurse comes to wheel the woman out of the room in a wheelchair as is hospital policy. Most of her effects have been taken on ahead, leaving her with but her current clothes and her purse to go home with.

She smiles as she enters the hallway. "Ah, Thomas, right on time. I told them that you would be. You have impeccable promptness. Thank you for coming to get me. I apologize if it is an inconvenience, Christopher will be gone for a little while, taking care of a few things I need placed in order. I hope you don't mind my company for just a bit longer?" It is almost a baited question, actually. Playing against his politeness just in case there is the slightest bit of inconvenience.

Polished dress shoes click as Moriarti backs up a step in response to the wheelchair emerging from the doorway, giving the marginally terrified nurse space to wheel Yana out into the hallway. "No inconvenience at all, Doctor…" he replies with a dip of his chin towards the seated woman, "…my hours aren't exactly set in stone with the Department, so I can make the time to be helpful." he finishes the explanation with a gesture for the nurse to proceed. The memories of the former Doctor Blite keep him in check from offering to free the nurse from her duties, as much as she might wish the relief. "…my car is waiting downstairs." he explains to the wheelchair-pushing-nurse.

As the procession starts, Moriarti's brow quirks slightly as his mind circles back around to Yana's greeting. "Are you going to be alright on your own then, Doctor Blite?" the man asks. From the curious expression on his features, it sounds like he was under the belief that he was playing taxi, but the concern leaks through when Yana notes that Christopher is gone for a 'little while.'

If Yana has any type of desire to have him take over wheeling her out of the hospital, Yana makes no indication of that to be true. However, she isn't exactly neutral, or cold as she usually is. That isn't the face she is wearing at the moment. However, Yana does provide subtle body language that usually go unnoticed by the conscious eye, but certainly could be considered attractive traits to the more primal eye. Despite her injuries, Yana sits rather erect, with her shoulders held high, her neck a little straighter which lines her body with a sense of poise and even a symmetry. She sits not with her legs crossed, but neatly together and off to one side, with one hand folded over the other in her lap. As an animal with bright plumage or doing a dance might do in the wild.

She is certainly a whole different animal than when he first encountered her a month or so ago. "Actually," she begins, "To be perfectly honest, I am not quite sure. I shouldn't be moving around so much, and the only reason my father is releasing me is because he believes that I will move around less if I am at home, because I will have Christopher looking after me mainly. I didn't tell him that he would be away for some time, I couldn't stand to be in this hospital another moment." She turns her head to the side, away from him to gaze out of the window as they go by, a sigh leaving her lips, "No, I will just have to endure, I suppose. The worst is over for now, and I shouldn't be by myself for too long. I just.. have to be careful in front of my apartment building. If it happened once, who know who might return."

If the difference in how Yana carries herself; well, lets herself be carried; is noticed by Moriarti, it does not seem to be on a conscious level. A glance to the side and down as they continue on and she speaks, splitting his attention between polite focus on her, and not walking into that old man pulling his IV drip through the corridors. He pauses a moment, allowing the nurse to wheel Yana pass the slow-moving man, before the agent slips around the elderly fellow and rejoins the procession, moving at the side of the wheelchair.

That brow rises and falls as she speaks, and sympathic murmurings pass from Moriarti's lips at Yana's desire to get out of the hospital; truth be told, Moriarti has spent as little time as possible in them, since Gregori's unfortunate end. "Exactly how long do you expect to be on your own?" Moriarti asks, allowing just a trace of concern into his voice; enough appropriate for an associate, letting the majority of his worries remain hidden for now.

"About a month, at the least." She knew her answer at least a minute before he even asked her. It isn't a lie, as she can keep Christopher rather busy in dealing with her estate and other affairs, as recent situations have warranted her a bit of caution. Though her making mention of this fact is but another strand of her web, moving to put it into place. "I won't be able to return to work, so most of my time will be finding ways to entertain myself while keeping from going stir crazy from being unable to work." She always has been the busy busy type. Before Gregori married her, and placed her into the role of a wife, he almost lost her hand in marriage to her job. There were times where she would find time to be with him, but for the most part, she was married to her job.

If her words weren't enough, the woman turns her eyes to look up at him, and her lips fall into a smile. It is a smile that Gregori might recognize, but she is under the assumption that Thomas is seeing it for the first time. One of those smiles that played against his masculinity, tugging at his heart and hormones to protect such a frail, gentle and beautiful creature. "I suppose, I'll get through it somehow." After all, what choice does she have, really?

Poor Moriarti. He had it hard enough when she wasn't conspiring against him. But now she's turning her womanly wiles on to draw him in, so very 'come into my parlor…' that the man is probably doomed. As much as that look tugs upon memories that prior to a few weeks ago were looked upon fondly, every once and awhile, Moriarti must still maintain the proper decorum, despite what memories keep resurfacing like bouys on a stormy sea.

The agent goes silent as she turns that smile on him, beyond a quiet repeat of the timeframe she gives. The elevator dings as it arrives at their floor, silver doors sliding open to accept the wheelchair as it is pushed in. A moment, and then Moriarti enters as well, index figner searching out the lobby button. "..if you were concerned with something happening while Christopher is away, I could avail myself…" he answers after a bit of internal debate. An acquaintence extending a helpful hand, is all. "…another someone to have on hand if you need something brought up to you, a prescription or dinner or the like…" he continues, choosing his words carefully while making sure it doesn't sound too careful. "Someone to call if you've fallen, and can't get up, that sort of thing…"

There is that little tremble about her shoulders. It is very subtle, but it is yet another one of those things that is picked up on the subconscious level, along with everything else. It comes when he mentions that something could occur while she is alone. Feigning a haunted terror that has her reaching to clutch a hand over her wound at the 'memory', a medium swallow travels down the woman's slender throat, a little gulp of sorts. It was a terrible thing that happened to her simply terrible. And the poor woman has to sleep alone at night, feeling insecure and unsafe in her own bed, all alone in the span of her apartment, with the pain from the bullet wound as a reminder of that dreadful night.

As if she were cold, or feeling like she were vulnerable and watched, Yana's arms wrap around the front of herself, hands rubbing at her shoulders as she looks ahead, a slightly disturbed look in her eyes.

It vanishes at her suggestion, and she turns her eyes to look up at him. Those eyes, as if a great and brave hero has come to liberate her from the nightmare she lives with. "You would do that, Thomas?" she asks, "I wouldn't ask anything as such of you, as I don't want you to feel like you are an indentured servant, I just—" And then she looks away, staring at the doors in front of her while they close, "I don't know.. I guess I just don't feel safe anymore. But I can't really let that fear keep me locked away. I have to find someway to move ahead." She has taken what Gregori has taught her and turned it into a whole new craft. So intricate and so convincing that even the nurse is starting to look at Moriarti as if she might shame him for not doing the right thing.

Moriarti's not completely blind, as much as he is trying to remain a neutral party in everyone's schemes. Even withouth that veiled evil eye from the nurse, his training picks up on Yana's subtle cues, their source easily guessable from the course of the conversation. As the elevator descends, floors dinging away, there is a pause on each to allow passengers to embark and disembark from the conveyance. Those pauses giving Moriarti a bit of time to marshall his thoughts.

Almost to the lobby, and the elevator is empty but for the trio; Agent, Doctor, and Nurse, all waiting for those last few floors. With no one else present, Moriarti dips his head again, a slight courteous bow in response to Yana flashing those particular eyes at him; the chivalrous white knight, just in a charcoal grey business suit. "My time's still largely my own, it wouldn't be an inconvenience.." he replies, "…it'd be my pleasure to help out where I could. After all, as you just said, you cannot be a prisoner to fear…" because then the terrorists have won, or so a few newscasters bandy about from time to time.

The elevator doors open on the first floor, allowing the procession to exit out onto the lobby.

Shortly after Gregori, Yana developed this.. tendency.. an aversion to touching or rather being touched uninvited. She isn't the type to display physical affection, and usually if she touched someone, it was to deliver something nasty into their system. So what she does next is wholly uncharacteristic of her. Up lifts her hand, reaching out to her side and rising until she can find his, the delicate softness of her fingertips and her palm touching across his knuckles. Even when she does touch someone, it is a little brief, and not as detailed as she touches him, her fingers curling and she tightens there to give his hand a squeeze while a relieved smile meets her lips. "Thank you, Thomas." All apart of the spell she is casting, just the beginning chants of the ritual. "I can't express to you just what that means to me."

And then there are those eyes of hers, that way of looking at him in a que of sorts. Her husband could see them and know it was time to kiss her. The subtle moistening of them with the very tip of her tongue, the way her teeth just barely catch the upper lip and let it ride back into place slowly. She is certain that he won't succumb to the subconscious suggestion, but it is all the more to embed the image in his mind. Yana does tend to leave a lasting impression. When Gregori would go off on his business trip, she had this way of leaving her visage burned into the front of his mind, making comfortable bedrest at whatever hotel he was staying, difficult as visions danced through his mind.

Of course, Yana's long-dead husband hides somewhere behind those eyes. He's not aware of her aversion to touch, to her holding it as a wildcard to lay down some insurance, but he knows that particular look. If she wasn't already casting quite the little spell on him, Moriarti might have just been given pause on this whole deal….

But instead his mind writes itself a nice little story, that this is just the natural reaction of a widow, showing her appreciation towards a white knight. Nothing amiss here. As much as Yana and certain parts of his personality might desire otherwise, Moriarti is still trying to remain in the safe 'friend' zone. "Of course, Doctor…" he replies as she squeezes his hand and brands herself fresh across whorls of his mind occupied by Gregori's memories. "I can understand that recovery from surgery like that can be difficult…" so Gregori was taught, but Moriarti might be speaking from unmentioned experience as well. "…and having someone around to help out can help speed the healing along…"

If anything else, Yana is patient. A phrase that should be trademarked by now. She may not have intended him to melt right into her hands after such a gesture, but it is all a matter of chipping away at his resolve. He is a single, red blooded male, and Yana has her ways of using this to her advantage. She is confident, wealthy, attractive and powerful. Yet if she needs needs to be, she can appear just fragile enough, putting the icing on the rest of the qualities she possesses. Yana is a dichotomy of sorts, on many levels. Depending on what face she is wearing at the time. But still, the gesture is there, for what it is worth. And she shares the warmth of her hand with him, without sharing her deadly virus this time.

"Well, to be honest, there are few that I would even trust to play that role. The only other one would be Christopher, who I trust my life with. I'm very particular when it comes to people, believe it or not. But somehow, I feel so comfortable and safe with you. I seem to be.. feeling things, in spite of myself. Things that… I haven't felt in a very long time. I really enjoy spending time with you."

Everyone just gets tangled up in everyone else's web. Moriarti will soon find himself with strands from Yana tugging away at him, and probably the DoEA, all intended to make him dance like a marionette on their leads. And Fate twists them all up in designs of her own.

The more romantic types may attribute Yana's feelings to the pull of two souls, returned to each other after an abrupt withdrawl, Gregori's soul finding itself twisted and blended with that of Mister Moriarti's, and drawn back to Yana. Or it's those Gregori-like qualities (which are really Robert-like qualities, but we won't even go there) that Yana was drawn to in the first place, that stand out still in the agent.

The warmth of her fingers curling around his hand is returned with a friendly squeeze of reassurance. "I'm honored that you feel that way, Doctor Blite, that I could be one of those trusted few." The fact that this touch does not bring with it an unseen passenger is only a bonus, one of which Moriarti will hopefully never know, or at least never wrinkle out.

He does draw his hand away from her touch to lengthen his step, moving to push open one of the manual hospital doors, another act of courtesy, "My car is right outside…" Moriarti says to the nurse, gesturing with his free hand towards a black sedan.

Of course, it would be a government-issued car, all tinted windows and Government-use Only plates. Better a black sedan than the bright yellow of a New York City taxicab.

Yana would sooner walk herself home than to set one foot inside of a New York taxi. This is one thing that will never change. The woman has standards, and they are pretty high. The woman is high maintenance after all. Though one who actually knows her, who knows Dr. Yana Blite would have to wonder, just how much of what she is showing is truth, and where does the illusion come in. She has never been easy to figure out.

The nurse wheels her outside of the hospital, and as far as her duty goes, that is as far as she has to go. But because she is the bosses daughter, she intends initially to take her the distance, until Yana speaks up, "I can manage, thank you." she tells the nurse, who stops the chair and nods, wishing her well. Which is where the difficult part comes into play, getting to her feet. Yana closes her eyes, takes a deep breath and pushes her hands to the arms of her chair, edging her body up and moving to her feet with a small grunt.

Pain wracks through her body the slightest bit, and she makes the slightest of twitches about her face, taking a deep breath, "I just want to thank you again for this, Thomas, I—" suddenly, she moves to take a step, and the woman doesn't exactly land right on her ankle, coupled with her injury. With a surprised yelp, she stumbles out of balance, convenient for her that it is in the direction of Moriarti, her hands reaching out to seize him and catch her fall.

Moriarti is polite as ever as Yana bids the nurse to a halt; one hand slips into the pocket of his jacket for the keys to the sedan, the other brushing the jacket back into line. If she feels that she can make it those last few feet to the car, then Moriarti is polite enough to let her.

"Again, Doctor, it's my plea-…" he begins humbly enough as she rises, although concern flashes across his features at the subtle, yet visible signs of the pain that Yana goes through as she straightens. Then she's tumbling forwards from a bad step, those arms reaching out for him.

That split second of her yelp is all it really takes for instinct to batter down those carefully constructed walls of polite composure. She's tumbling, and he's stepping forward to catch her, a surprised "Yana!" passing over his parted lips.

Then she is caught, strong arms out to support her, mindful enough of her healing wounds, "Are you alright?" his voice asks from somewhere close and above, knees bending slightly to lighten the slight drop and to mitigate the sudden stop; all trying to save her from as much pain as possible.

That fall could very well have been rather bad for Yana. The woman was never the most athletic or sturdy of individuals, other than a bit of horseback riding and a game of shuffleboard, so it is no doubt that she would have taken quite the spill, possibly open up her wound a bit more, maybe even twisted or broken something along the way. But as luck may have it, Moriarti is there to catch her. Keeping her from making a Yana sized accident on the ground.

If that was a constructed ploy of hers, then she invested a lot of faith that he would actually try to catch her, or for that matter be able to do it in time. Not to mention, she would have suffered a bit of pain. Crashing into him, while braced by the bend of his leg still rattles her body enough to shake her wound and send surges coursing through her body, her hands reaching out to hold his forearms tightly while she keeps herself on her feet and lets it wash over her, with her eyes closed tightly, inhaling a deep breath from her nostrils.

She exhales slow and deep from her lips, and slowly she nods her head, "Yes, I'm alright. Thank you." a weak and stressed smile from her. She lifts her foot back, the one that she didn't twist on, and rubs the side of it against her sore ankle. "It seems in my downtime, I've forgotten how to walk properly. I can tell you the complex RNA of a flu virus, but I can't put one foot in front of the other." she jokes a bit. "Thank you, Thomas."

He'd have to be one cruel bastard to let her faceplant on the sidewalk; even before Gregori joined the situation, Thomas Moriarti would have tried to offer assistance. It's just the polite thing to do, even without Gregori's memories added into the mix. Once Yana is caught, Moriarti is simply a reassuring pillar in a dark suit to lean against and catch her composure.

"Of course, Doctor…" he replies, his own composure slipping back into place as he waits for her to catch her breath, forearms strong for her to grip. A polite chuckle at her joke as he gives her that time to gather herself, "…I don't think it would be too forward to offer an arm, would it?" he asks once she gives signs of balancing upright under her own power.

The pain, it seems to weaken her, or moreover it seems to make her favor herself a bit more after it has passed. Much like times before, Yana moves with a little bit more care than normal, her eyes stay closed and she breathes medium sided breaths in through her nose. "Of course not. It would be much appreciated to be honest." she offers up another one of those weak smiles and securely reaches to not only wrap her arm in his, but wrap both of her arms around it, using him to support herself, favoring her twisted ankle in her step.

"I'm hate this.." she tells him, "It makes me look weak. My father would frown if he saw me like this, and there is very little I can even do about it." The woman sighs, and she turns her face to look up into his, "Thomas? I need you." she says, with enough pause to her voice to raise a bit of shock, "I hate to admit it, but I really do need your help. I'm not sure I can do this as well as I expected. Not alone."

One of Moriarti's hands rest atop of Yana's as they clutch to his arm, a reassuring touch; that arm she clings to remains bent at the elbow, steady support for her to lean into. He moves as slowly as she does, directing her towards the waiting car at whatever pace she dictates. No doubt Mikhail would frown, Moriarti can't help but chuckle inwardly at the thought, that look her father is known and feared for.

Then Yana turns her face up to him, continuing to chip away at his resolve. Gregori's memories, that part of him that just wants to pick up where that life ended, warring with the sensibility he's carried throughout his longer life; don't interfere with the past.

Of course, it doesn't help that everyone else is conspiring against him as well.

A softening of the features, a slight smile. "I'll help however I can, Doctor…" he says, as the car alarm *beep*boops* its disarm signal, the keys dangling from the fist at the end of the arm she hangs upon.

Yana takes it slow. For one thing she has to, lest she rouse more discomfort from her wound. For another, it is nice that she is allowed to set the pace. A quality that she rather enjoys, showing that she has a sense of control at least. Not to mention, from the time between the hospital room to the car, Yana has actually gotten some pretty decent information, and has already devised a plot on how best to proceed with the very next phase.

With a smile at his words, she allows him to lead her to the vehicle without any further mishaps on either end. And it is out of sheer confidence, or perhaps arrogance that she is able to walk right out of the hospital without fear of being stopped, or apprehended by the DoEA, given her latest run in with Agent Sebastian. It is even more ironic that she is being escorted to her desire by another agent, who just can't even seem to shake her. Till death do us part just isn't good enough.

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