2007-07-09: Back To Status Quo


Cass_icon.gif Desiree_icon.gif Elena_icon.gif Jack_icon.gif Lachlan_icon.gif Peter_icon.gif

Summary: The Get Carter teams rest and recover in the hospital. And the fun and games are over because of a certain guy who will now require an eyepatch. Oh yeah, and there's hugging and worrying and a crazy lady stealing a painting.

Date It Happened: June 9th, 2007

Back To Status Quo

Syracuse - Crouse Hospital

8:00 am.

July 9th.

It has been, for the most part, an extremely long day. Given the damage to Ramon's eye, he was admitted first, while the unconscious Desiree is given a room to sleep her headbump away. After Cass exercises her charm and logic to the local doctors, the attending agrees that the group can stay with Desiree while they wait for Ramon to join them. The southerner is fast asleep on the cot, a blanket pulled over her, and an ice pack pressed on the injury.

Elena is outside of that room, using a payphone. She looks okay, though she's still dressed in Cass's hoodie. She tried to give it back considering it was a little chilly in the hospital, but the older woman wouldn't have it considering her own was so torn underneath. She's got her back turned away, her fingers cradling the phone against her ear.

"Is he awake?" she asks softly. She listens to the person on the other end, but whatever the person says makes her relieved. "…can…can I talk to him?"

There is a pause, and she deflates a little. "No no…let him sleep. He needs it. I'll see him as soon as I'm back in the city. Thank you so much for taking care of him."

A driver is already on the way to pick up Peter. After explaining to everyone the need to get home, rest, and talk to Heidi in person, he's spending most of his time in the emergency room drinking orange juice. Though there was a time when he spent some time holding on to Elena's hand. His black leather jacket has a gapping hole in the back of it, but it's less obvious than the hole in his white shirt surrounded by dried blood, so he's left the jacket on. His jeans are also torn, where he broke his leg jumping down from the second floor of the warehouse in a failed attempt to fly ahead. The sunglasses hang from the neckline of his shirt still, and he looks pale, feverish, and very tired. He's refused treatment, excusing it as 'just a cold' whenever asked by anyone not in the know, but he does feel warm to the touch, especially after those attempts to heal the most injured of their party. That's when he started to look like he needed a break— but he's refused even a nap.

Peter also happens to be sitting in Desiree's room, with his orange juice and not sleeping.

Indeed, Cass would have nothing of Elena trying to give back the hoodie. While it's a little chilly in the hospital under the air conditioning, she doesn't mind. She'll just nab a blanket from a bed if it gets to be too much. Ever after finding that everyone was still alive, she's reluctant to let go of Lachlan. She will when needed, like when she talked the doctors into letting them stay in Desiree's room and to check on Elena. But as soon as she's back in that room, she goes to wrap an arm around him again. For a little while, she doesn't want him out of her sight. She's already rubbed most of the tears away, but her eyes are still red and slightly red-rimmed. "You need to get looked at," she tells him in a voice barely above a whisper.

At some point somebody reminded Jack to wash the blood and muck off of his face, so he's not nearly so frightful-looking as he was during the drive to the hospital. He's still got on the same battered, bloody grey denims and t-shirt, which doesn't add much to his general ambiance. Though he was pleased and relieved to see everyone alive after the conflict with Carter, worry about Ramon and his eye made the trip to the ER a white-knuckle ride.

Right now the Irishman's doing what he does best. He's getting drinks. After having gone to the bathroom so he could drop trou' and reassure himself that his injuries are mostly minor, he made a beeline for the vending machine. Soda? Check. Juice? Check. Bottled water? Check. Though he can't help but worry about Trina, he seems in pretty good spirits when he akwardly jogs the door to Desiree's room with one elbow and lets himself back in.

A surgeon comes in and knocks on the door a few times. He won't barge in without permission, of course, but he stands out there, pushing up thick coke bottle glasses with his pinky finger and letting them ride up his nose. He's a young doc just out of medical school, and it shows all over his face.

It's not like Lachlan minds this clinging. He needs it almost as much as Cass does. He hasn't been doing or saying much after all was finished at the warehouse and merely sits quietly in Desiree's room. His upper arm is still wrapped in the makeshift bandaged made from the tearing-off of his shirt hem. Black fabric hides blood well, even if there are half-dried trickles on his skin. Not to mention being caked in grime and dirt and ash. What a scruffy bunch this is. When Cass returns, he slips an arm around her waist reflexively. "'M fine," he mutters back. Really he is. Bit sore, bit dirty, but he's fine.

The world is spinning. Her head is pounding. With the noises of gunfire and explosions still feeling like they're reverberating in her brainpan, louder than they ever actually were, Desiree starts to stir. "Mnhnhmhnmm." With a violent shiver, she sits straight up, dislodging the icepack at her head and squinting blearily at the handful of blurry humanoids standing around her. "Where in the hell…?" she manages to drawl in a thick voice, confused as anyone who suddenly wakes up somewhere they don't remember getting to would be. The shapes slowly start to make sense to her: Peter, Cass, Scottish Dog Guy, Irish Poison Guy, Coke Bottle Glasses Guy. Wait. She doesn't know that o— "Oh. Hospital. Wh…" As she holds a hand to the back of her head, her gaze goes distant; her cloudy stare is situated on the painting of watercolour flowers on the wall opposite the cot, distracted and no less confused. "Whas' goin'… where's 'Lena? And— Ramon?"

"I'm here."

The voice is quiet and Elena looks hesitant, standing at the door and sliding her hands in her pockets, rocking back on her heels and aa sheepish expression on her face. Words can't even BEGIN to describe how much she owes all of these people. How much her family owes them. She didn't even know where to start. Chewing on her bottom lip, she takes a step inside the room. "I….I called Beth Israel. Manny woke up earlier. He went back to bed though." She can't help the rueful grin on her lips. "He doesn't wake up until past ten anyway." To Desiree, she blinks. "How are you feeling?" she asks the Southerner, taking a step towards her. But when the doctor shows up, she takes a step back and moves away from the bed in case he's there to check on Dezi. She falls back a few steps, standing next to where Peter's sitting, and a hand drops on his shoulder. She knows how he looks like when he's on the edge, so she's going to fix it now that the chemical gas she breathed wasn't addling her brain.

Juice does a couple things to make Peter feel better, but Elena's hand on his shoulder actually does a lot more. Within moments he looks less pale, the reddness around his eyes even fadding somewhat. He still looks tired and weak, but he doesn't look like he might fall over if he tries to stand. Recognizing what she did, he reaches up and touches the hand on his shoulder. Even that feels more human, not quite as warm as it'd been to the touch before. There's some hesitation, and he even opens his mouth for a moment. Almost like he has something to say. But then he looks towards the doctor and the others present and… stays silent.

Out of everyone in the room, Cass is probably the most able to be mobile and take care of Coke Bottle Doctor. Not wanting to wake the sleeping Desiree from sleep she may need, she reluctantly steps away from Lachlan to go open the door for the polite man who doesn't want to disturb them. "Doctor?" Even if he's fresh out of med school doesn't mean that he's not a good doctor, he deserves some ounce of respect for just getting that far. It's more than Cass got. "Come in." By the time she's ushering the man in, however, Desiree is awake and he's going to have to deal with being forgotten for the moment. "Desiree?" Questions are already being asked and she waits for the answer. Rushing over and overwhelming her isn't going to help. So, she turns back to the surgeon. "Is there any news?"

Jack unloads his armful of drinks into a vacant chair. It's not like he was actually thirsty, anyway. He knows next to nothing about medicine, and waiting is not his forte, so he had to keep busy somehow. He's already located the shortest route from Dezi's room to a designated smoking area and traversed it about a dozen times. He crosses the room and touches Elena lightly on the arm for just a moment. No words, and he doesn't make eye contact. Just a brief touch, as if he's reassuring himself that she's actually standing in front of him. He's done this several times since they arrived at the hospital, and as before, he immediately steps aside to give Peter more room. When the surgeon enters he perks up. He's been waiting for news about Ramon as anxiously as anyone else. Though they've only met once, the bartender is already planning to take lessons in badassery from the older man.

The doctor pushes up his glasses again. "Mr. Gomez is in stable condition," he announces. "I was not able to save the eye, and there's probably going to be some considerable scarring both there and elsewhere, but he's not going to die from it and he didn't suffer any brain damage."

That Other Lady is awake. Lachlan glances at her passively and says nothing, figuring it's up to the people who actually know her to explain everything. When the doctor arrives and reports on Ramon, the Scotsman's brow furrows. "… bloody hell." So, wait, that means … "S'he gonna wear an eye patch, then?" Lachlan still has one somewhere …

It's hard to tear her gaze away from the watercolour, for whatever reason - it's not a particularly interesting painting - but the Southerner does so when she hears Elena's voice. "Like I was smacked on the back of the head with somethin' hard," Desiree tells the rescuee with a soft smile growing. It fades once she starts to register that the doctor is talking. It takes a few seconds longer to realize that the doctor is talking about Ramon, and a few seconds more to understand what he's saying. Lachlan's input actually helps. She stares at the doctor, not truly looking at him, but through him, past him. "…" Just stares. "… Oh my God." It's barely above a whisper, and hoarse, at that. "But he's— gon' be okay. He's okay." Dezi glances at the others, one by one, as if counting. "Everyone's okay?"

Her hand comes up to take Jack's hand and gives him a reassuring squeeze. Elena tilts her head, ducking it a bit so she could look at her nuncle right in the eye, and whenever he does peek at her face, she gives him a small smile. Despite everything, she still manages to. She was Ramon's eldest, she had her father's toughness (well not physically, but you know what I mean damn it >.>). Traumatic experiences? She bounces back in ten minutes. So when Cass handles the doctor, she… well, her face is indescribable. "…you couldn't save…" she repeats, her shoulders sagging a little bit. Of course, she asks if she could see him - she's his daughter, but the doctor tells them that they're still patching him up so it's going to take a few.

She exhales a breath, but she doesn't sit down. She leans against the wall instead. "…is is true?" she asks the others. "Is he…?" Dead? "Did my father…?. And when Dezi asks, she nods. "….this pipe swung down and hit you at the bacl k of the head. It happened too fast to stop," she tells her sheepishly.

Wince. Peter squeezes the young woman's hand at the news of her father's eye, noticing Jack's return, but not quite registering that the man is giving him room to manuver. Too bad he hasn't taken it for more than holding her hand, much as he is now. The eye is one thing he doesn't even know if he could have healed had he been more rested and had the time and energy to put towards it. Maybe he could have— maybe if he'd have reserved some energy, or— Maybe if he'd grabbed Carter before he got outside the building, or— With so many ifs going through his head, about the only thing he can do is answer her question. "Yeah, it's true. It's safe now." Vague, but it's got some detail. He starts to move to stand up, letting go of her hand finally. No wobbling this time.

For the moment, Cass doesn't return to Lachlan immediately. The news from the doctor stuns her just as much as it stuns everyone else. There's nothing else she can really think to say, other than, "Thank you," to the doctor that is keeping them in the know. The conversation is flitting back to the warehouse and things done and /that/ makes her take a few steps backwards to Lachlan, reaching out to just have some physical contact with him again. "Really, we're here at the hospital, Lachlan, just get it looked at." Because thinking about what happened has reminded her of the fact that he had been shot. Then, to the general public, "But, Desiree said something about there being a boss. Someone else calling the shots. Was he there? Did you get him?"

Ramon is going to lose an eye? At least he's alive, right? The news the surgeon brings is definitely a mixed bag. Jack chews on his bottom lip. "He'll look even scarier now," he says, trying to look on the bright side. In Jack's mind, scary is an asset. He gives Elena's hand a return squeeze and meets her eyes. "Your Papa did what had to be done, and he did it well. I'd follow Sarge anywhere after that." He glances at each of the rooms occupants in turn. "We all did well. Wait. Boss? There's more of these bastards? Goody fuckin' gumdrops."

"'M tellin' ye, I'm fine," insists Lachlan in a low voice, attempting to keep this part of the conversation between himself and Cass. "S'just a scratch." And the mention of the boss gets a shake of his head. "Nah, was just the … the bald guy. 'Cept there's no bald guy anymore." Because he's dead now. Very dead. So dead. Totally dead. In conclusion: dead.

Desiree touches the back of her head again; tender, and she has a killer headache, but she'll be fine. Her every movement and word is distracted ever since she heard the news about Ramon. Good news and bad news in the same breath, that. She's quiet as she listens, interpreting what Peter tells Elena, then what Cass says. Both make her undeniably uneasy. "I was jus'… thinkin' on what 'Lena said at the warehouse. 'Bout him bein' on the phone with someone?" She goes about peeling off the blanket that's draped over her. At least her neat black attire isn't covered in blood and dirt like some of the others'; she's just a little dusty. The woman swings her legs over the edge of the bed and steps in front of Elena. Why? Do give her a sudden, giant crushing hug, of course. "I'm sure glad you made it outta there, darlin'." SQUEEEEEZE.

"…there was someone on the phone with him. When he visited me before you all came," Elena says, her eyes on the floor and chewing on her bottom lip. With her eyes averted it was easy to mask whether she wants to hold some details to herself. But about the phonecall, she can tell them. "Something about…..ugh." Elena lifts a hand to touch the side of her face. "I don't remember it very well, the gas…I was all drowsy. I couldn't use my powers. He said…something about finding another one. Knowing about another one, I think. I don't know. But he sounded like…it sounded like it was a report."

When Dezi steps in front of her, she blinks before she's crushed in a hug. Elena returns it, of course, squeezing the southern lady tight and resting her chin on her shoulder for a moment. "Right on time too," she says with a laugh. "Otherwise I would've been on a plane. Or something. They…he said something about transport. To…overseas? I don't know. He mentioned Africa." She pulls back a bit and gives Desiree a small smile. "Papa flipped out when he thought you were gone, you know." Giving her another squeeze, she takes a step to the side. "I….should go check on Papa though. Maybe I can sneak a peek….I don't know what….I owe you guys so much I don't even have the words for it. Thank you so much everybody." She even looks like she's going to cry, her eyes tearing up a bit. But she takes a deep breath, and sucks it up, and gives them all a smile instead.

She turns, sliding her hands in her pockets to head for the door and out into the hall.

Boss. The phone. Peter has to wince again, for a different reason. He'd known about this too. "The vision I had too," he brings up, sounding tense. One thing he'll have to hope against hope… whoever the man who pulled Carter's strings is— he hopes he lost his favorite weapon and that it'd take him a long time to find another. Long enough that they can regroup. At least the man who can plant subconsious commands is gone. Whoever else he might have… now Africa he did not know about. His knuckles go white. It isn't until Elena starts to dismiss herself that he looks towards his watch. Oh, look at the time… She's already out the door when he says, "I think I'll go with her. I need to check and see if the driver is here yet. Still have to get back to the city and tell Heidi about all of this." And with that, he moves off after her. Nothing suspicious about this at all. But anyone who peaks outside the door may see him catch up and pull her into a hug. Nothing at all going on. Just thought she was dead for a while, that's all.

Footsteps. She could hear them. Elena is about to turn around a corner when she looks over her shoulder. A quizzical expression on her face, she stops and turns around. Her mouth opens up to inquire something, but then he pulls her into a hug. She could never get used to the suddeness of his gestures sometimes, but she does curl her arms around him back, burying her face where his shoulder lined up with his collarbone and fingers curling at the back of his shirt.

"Africa?" Desiree just shakes her head, boggled. It's too much to comprehend, let alone figure out, right this second. Or ever. She smiles at Elena, wincing ever-so-slightly over the mention of Ramon flipping out, but it broadens her smile, truth be told. She looks into the hallway after Elena leaves, wanting to follow, to check on Ramon, and no doubt, she'll try, soon enough. However… "I'll be right back." Without explanation, the woman winds her way around the small room, plucks the watercolour painting of flowers from the wall in all its pastel glory, and walks out.

Hopefully, no one tries to direct Desiree to the mental ward.

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