Participants:
| Scene Title | Worst Case For Dani |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Peter speaks of Dani's condition |
| Date | September 15, 2008 |
St. Luke's Hospital is known for its high-quality care and its contributions to medical research. Its staff place an emphasis on compassion for and sensitivity to the needs of their patients and the communities they serve. In addition to nearby Columbia University, the hospital collaborates with several community groups, churches, and programs at local high schools. The associated Roosevelt Hospital offers a special wing of rooms and suites with more amenities than the standard hospital environment; they wouldn't seem out of place in a top-rated hotel. That said, a hospital is a hospital — every corridor and room still smells faintly of antiseptic.
Monday morning has come, and with it the day which was supposed to be Dani's first at her new job. Cat. feeling the injured one may be depressed over this and fearful of losing the slot without having ever started it, is busy. She's on the phone applying her legal knowledge in her employment's defense, ensuring Miss Courtney Danielle Hamilton will have that job waiting for her when she's healthy enough to perform it. There are books laying around, one of them is Grey's Anatomy. A copy of the New York Times is also present, along with the Washington Post.
A deep male voice comes from the doorway, the speaker one of the off duty Nuked York City police officers she hired to keep watch given the Linderman situation. "Doctor Chesterfield," he starts, "the items you asked for are here." She nods once, and the male courier is admitted. He's got food from Piccoli's along with fresh coffee and soda. Fifty dollars is given to the man and he leaves, Cat all the while just nodding and gesturing because she's busy on the phone.
Dani hasn't been totally idle. She's actually called her editor, explaining some of what's going on, while at the same time not giving away TOO much information. She's in bed, and she is Officially. Bored. Witless. She wants to go HOME.
A few minutes later she seems satisfied things are secure on that front, and the conversation ends. Cat puts the phone down and turns toward the food. A sandwich is offered, and her choice of coffee or Pepsi to drink with it. "Piccoli's", Cat enthuses, "so, so good!"
Dani looks back over. "Cat, when do I get to get out of here? I'm going stir-crazy in here. If my brains haven't fallen out by now, I don't think they're going to."
You aren't carrying anything.
"Not hungry?" she asks, still holding a sandwich out for the taking and gesturing toward the drink choices. Cat calls up in her memory how much time her total stay was supposed to be here, and scans the woman for the apparent state of her progress at healing. And a question follows, the tone lightly teasing and pouting. "Awwww, you don't like me reading House Of Seven Gables for you? Moby Dick? The Scarlet Letter?"
They've been keeping her under observation. Apparently the combination of car accident plus blow to the head was pretty nasty, and Dani's EEG is still not reading quite what it should. They've refrained from telling her too much, so as not to worry her. "Huh? Sure, I'd like a sandwich. And god, no. I hated those books the first time around."
The sandwich is held closer to the postconcussional one, and Cat deflects the topic of when she can go home by simply not addressing it. At the woman's claim of hating certain books, she reaches back into the contents of her digital everything recorder and pulls out those that are her favorites. Once Dani has her food, Cat takes one of the sandwiches for herself and grabs a container of Pepsi. The Grey's Anatomy book and the others are left untouched for the moment on a nearby table, along with the copy of today's Nuked York Times. One corner of the room features Cat's acoustic guitar, too, as 9:00 a. m. rolls around on this Monday morning.
Outside the room's door is a pair of off duty police officers, a different pair than those lazy donut munchers who failed to notice people entering a day before when Cat was absent.
Sandwich is taken and the woman in bed begins to munch. It beats the hell out of hospital food, that's for damn sure. She wants to go HOME. Impatient reporter. She munches away, and then puts the sandwich down on the tray, leaning back a little. "Ugh. My kingdom for more ibuprofen."
"Cops, huh?" The voice is unmistakeable, coming from by the closed window. Peter's voice is soft and quiet, a slight creak of leather accompanying his position shifting. "Hopefully you know who they work for." Footsteps thump softly across the black and white tile, making their way towards the bed as a distortion in the air ripples and bends light, revealing a familiar black-clad man, hands shoved in the pockets of his slacks, head tilted to the side. "Sorry for letting myself in," There wasn't any sounds that indicated his normal immediate arrival, no rush of air, not even the opening of the hall door.
Peter walks over to the foot of the bed, removing the charts from the bottom as he flips past the cover page, pausing to look over at Cat, then Dani, "You feeling any better?"
"They work for me," she remarks quietly, inwardly thinking the hope Linderman doesn't employ individuals with the talents he used to come in here. Teleportation? Maybe. Walking right through the solid door? Also maybe. Invisibility? Yes. Cat hasn't the resources to block such things, no matter how rich she is. "Morning, Rock," she offers, followed by an offer of sandwich and coffee or Pepsi. "It's from Piccoli's."
Dani smiles over to Peter. "Hey there. Good to see you. How've you been. My head is still killing me. Everything else, not so bad, really." She smiles back to Cat. "Hey, what about me?" She chuckles. "What're my choices?"
Eyeing the sandwitch, Peter looks pensive, then shifts his focus over to the coffee. "Thanks…" He reaches down, picking up one of the coffees, giving it a tenative sniff before taking a sip of it as he reads Dani's chart. His eyes divert from the writing for a moment, looking over to the hospitalized brunette with a concerned expression, then back down to the charts again. "Mmnh…" It's not a positive sound, rumbling in the back of his throat. He doesn't directly answer her questions, looking over to Cat as he slides the charts back down at the foot of the bed. He doesn't break eye-contact with her though, and raises one brow, tapping his right temple with his index and middle fingers.
"Been alright, I came in here to check up on you yesterday. You were sleeping, so I let it be." His eyes drift over to Cat, then back to Dani, "Discomfort is common with the injuries you sustained, but I'm pretty sure you won't be going home any time soon. They'll be keeping you here for observation a while longer." He walks a little past the bed, sliding open the privacy curtain so he can sit on the edge of the opposite, unoccupied bed and still see Dani and Cat.
Two containers of liquid are presented to Dani. Cat holds the one in her left hand up. "Coffee." Then the one in her right mitt. "Pepsi." The options are thus clarified. Her eyes shift over toward the man, and the topic of when Dani can leave again avoided. She finds it best not to dwell on that subject. Miss Hamilton can go home when it's time to go home, and that isn't now. Although she could perhaps get sued for malpractice through not having informed her she could always leave AMA. "You were here. I thought there might've been someone around when I wasn't. Found better watchers to stand in the hall after that." Displeased? Yes, it shows on her face.
Dani sighs at Peter's commentary. "I'm fine. It's bumps and bruises now. I can take some Tylenol and lay down on the couch as easily at home as I can here. And not bevvies, Kit-Kat. Food. I don't want caffeine on an empty tummy. So gimme! What's choices?" This despite the sandwich on the tray to the side of her bed.
"Wasn't just me," Peter says with a concerned tone, "A bicycle courier followed me, apparently she spotted me disappear and followed signs of my movements through the hospital. Guess she was concerned I was up to no good." Peter takes another long sip of his coffee, and he eyes Cat, watching for something that doesn't come, and then focuses back on Dani again. "There is something, though, that came up yesterday." Peter leans back, taking a bigger sip of the coffee as he buys time to come up with a proper way of stating it. He decides not to bring it up, shaking his head as Dani speaks.
"Actually, according to the information on your chart, that's not all." There's a certain uncomfortable shift in Peter's position, "The doctors have made notes that they're worried you're suffering from Postconcussional Syndrome, it's pretty common in women who've sustained head injuries." One more sip of the coffee, eyes scanning the black and white tiles on the floor between the beds. "Given what I'm hearing, I think they're right. Short-term memory loss is one of the symptoms, which," He motions with his nose towards the sandwich on Dani's tray, then frowns, "…yeah."
Cat, making eye contact again with Rock again, nods once. Two fingers tap her temple in belated acknowledgment of his earlier gesture, and her thoughts turn in that direction while one hand moves the tray a bit so Dani can see her easily forgotten food. "Hold that," she suggests softly, "and don't put it down. The drink too." Much easier to not be overlooked that way." And… Bicycle messenger, female? I met one of those a couple days back. She delivered me food and books. Nice woman, really, says she caught some of my performances. She was in here?
Dani frowns. "I…was just distracted, that's all." Denial ain't just a river in Egypt. She picks up the sandwich, reminded about it, and looks to Peter. "So since you seem to know all about this, when do I get a clean bill of health and can go home? Am I stuck here another day, another week, what?"
Peter blows out a sigh, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his legs, cradling his coffee cup between his knees. She recognized me from the club, so it was probably the same one. There's something else, though, Cat… Looking back to Dani, Peter affords the younger woman a gentle smile, though its tinged with nervousness. I think Dani might be an Evolved. Either her on the courier, I can't be certain. I manifested something when I came to visit on accident, it was like bending gravity — not telekinesis though. It's hard to explain.
At Dani's question, Peter affords her a hesitant smile, and then shakes his head, "That's not for me to say, but I'll be realistic with your options," His fingers slowly rotate the coffee cup around in his hands, "Recovery from this could take upwards of six months." His brow tenses, "That's not to say you won't be able to go home before then, but there'll be long-lasting side-effects, it's possible you may suffer some mild — but permanent — brain damage from what happened." He bites down on his lower lip, then lightens somewhat, "I don't think it's entirely likely, from your charts, but…" His eyes divert from her, sadly, "There's going to be rehabilitation involved. You may suffer from headaches for a long time following…" His bedside manner has slouched in the last few years it seems.
Her eyes move from Dani to Rock and back again, not much being said initially. She knows the prognosis all too well, having read the charts and some books on such conditions. But it's the doctor's thing to explain this, that's what they're paid for, and besides that the post-concussal one doesn't remember so well right now. Cat's opted to keep her focus elsewhere, to avoid stress and worry. "Concussions are serious business," she intones somberly.
My money would be on the courier, Rock. You've been around Dani before and not shown anything, I'd think if you picked something up from her it would've shown sooner. She certainly would've told me if she had anything like bending gravity. She's certain of it. In her mind pages go flipping, she's calling up the memory of empathic mimicry in Suresh's book, then placing things that affect gravity next to it. Interesting. My courier's name is Ygraine FitzRoy. And there it is, a perfectly remembered image of her.
Dani blinks in surprise at that. "Six -months-? -Brain damage-?" She plops back onto the bed, tears starting to flow. "I should've just let him shoot me and get it over with."
Peter nods to something unsaid, That's her, the lycra makes an impression. I — // He aborts mid-thought, focus shifting to Dani, and there's a regretful look in his eyes as he sees her reaction. //Way to overdo it Petrelli. Unintentionally shared thoughts surface as he rises to his feet, setting down his coffee on the table between the beds, moving over to Dani's side, taking on eof her hands. "Hey, hey," He leans in, trying to earn her focus, "You're going to have the best care money can buy, you know you don't have to doubt that." A gentle squeeze, thumb brushing over the back of her hand, years of work coming back to him at the sight of a patient in distress. "You've got Cat here, and that's not something to cry about…" He tries to afford her a smile, though it comes off more bittersweet than anything. "That's the upper end, the doctors will know more for sure. That's worst-case… I don't think it will be that severe."
Cat's expression shows concern, she goes to Dani's shoulder and rests a hand there, squeezing gently to give comfort. "No, no, no getting shot or defeatism for you. You're stronger than most, and will recover better than the worst possible case." Those words are spoken with full conviction. "Don't let yourself think otherwise for even a second, Dani."
Meanwhile, she's still thinking in transmission mode. She believes her own words to the patient, there's not a trace of conflict between them and her thoughts. I remember all of her, actually. But if I didn't, yes, the lycra and the educated British accent would probably stick best. How much does Miss FitzRoy know… did she see you display anything?
Dani's unaware of all the thought-speech going on. She blinks several times, trying to stop tears from falling. "Great." she laughs, a little bitterly. "The woman with the perfect memory, and the woman with the broken one." She sniffles despite herself. "I think I'd like to be alone a little bit, guys."
Peter's brow tenses as he watches Dani, and what she says to him can't be contested. He nods, solemnly, "Yeah, sure. It's okay…" One hand reaches up to brush back her hair from her forehead, and he takes a few steps away from the bed, looking to Cat. She saw more than enough to know what I can do. He retreats a bit further, slowly making his way towards the door to the room, then hesitates and looks back over his shoulder, watching to see what Cat will do.
More thoughts happen as Dani speaks, Cat doesn't immediately move to depart. Do you really want to be alone, not be seen like this, or is it just to let us off the hook? She instead calls up, yes, perfect memories of her at situations of sadness and stress to determine if the desire to be alone is sincere, or something said without meaning. This will determine her action. The last thought Rock sent to her registers but isn't responded to yet.
It seems more the former…she's about to have a crying jag and doesn't want to be seen.
Moments later Cat brushes a hand across Dani's hair gently and steps over to pack up some of the food, she'll take some Pepsi with her too. The rest is left in sight of the patient so she can not need to remember it being there. "See you soon, Dani," she softly offers, then makes her way out with food, book, and phone.
Only then does she resume thinking on other topics. The first of which is the stern instructions she gives the off duty cops. No one goes in without my permission!
 September 14th: Misdirection and Gravity |
Previously in this storyline… Next in this storyline… |
 September 15th: They Have Sylar |