2007-04-19: Feeding the Mopey


Bekah_icon.gif Namir_icon.gif

Guest Appearance:



Bekah shows up on Namir's doorstep with some Indian food, rescuing him from mope-induced starvation as well as offering some help in the unofficial investigation of the incident that got him suspended. Erica calls to report on her own findings (or lack thereof).

Date It Happened: April 19th, 2007

Feeding the Mopey

Namir's Apartment

They say that being by yourself while depressed is not the best thing to do, however Namir hasn't had the desire to be around other people lately. Outside of the occasional walk in the park, he's remained almost exclusively in his apartment since his suspension and has even refrained from XBox. Instead, he made a stop at the library to pick up a few books on hypnotism, and now he sits on the couch reading one of them. His laptop has been moved to the coffee table and, in addition to being surrounded by notebooks with hastily scribbled notes in Arabic, it is opened to several websites on mind control, some of which are questionable as far as reliable sources are concerned. He idly champs at a pen between his teeth as he reads, squinting in concentration as his inherent disability rears its ugly little head. Dressed in a white T-shirt and jeans and unshaven, he hasn't given much thought to his appearance lately.

Bekah is dressed in jeans and a t-shirt with a backpack thrown over her back. It's a sure sign she's either on her way home from work or going there later. A bag of takeout is in her hands again, though it smells more like Indian than Chinese this time. She's learning. She stops outside the door to Namir's apartment and lifts her hand to knock on the door.

So wrapped up in his research, Namir actually jumps a little when there's a knock on the door. He isn't expecting visitors. With a frown, he saves his spot in the book, tucks the pen behind his ear, and rises to his feet to answer the summons. Upon spotting Bekah through the peephole, he immediately opens the door and peers at her questioningly. "Bekah?" Indian food? Wow, he didn't even realize he was hungry until just now. How late /is/ it? "Come in." He steps aside, opening the door wider.

Bekah steps inside. "Have you eaten?" She asks, carrying the bags towards the kitchen. "I brought Indian, from a strictly vegetarian restaurant. If it's safe for vegetarian Hindu people, it should be safe for Muslims." Or at least she hopes so. "I wanted to come check on you, see how you're doing."

"I … no, I haven't." Namir closes the door behind Bekah and turns the lock, looking a bit disoriented. Did he actually forget to eat lunch? Ugh. "Thank you, that should be fine. I will get some plates." He moves off to do just that, conveniently forgetting to answer the implied question of how he's doing.

The fact that he hasn't eaten yet kind of answers her question for her. After all, it's getting late. She has the excuse of just getting off shift, at least. "Sounds like a plan." She pulls container out of the bag to open them. There's Naan and several spicy things to dip it into. "I figured if there's leftovers, you'll have lunch for tomorrow." So maybe he'll eat at least one meal tomorrow, too.

PHONE: Your phone begins to ring. The Caller ID says 283-8723.

Back from the kitchen comes Namir, bearing plates and forks, which are then set on the coffee table. "Thank you. I haven't had Indian for some time." It sounds genuine, at least, accompanied by a wan smile. "I'm sorry, I have just been … distracted lately." And speaking of distractions, there's the phone ringing. He jumps again, startled, then reaches into his pocket and digs it out. Frowning at the display, he utters, "Excuse me a moment? And what would you like to drink?" Then he flips open the phone to answer.

PHONE: You answer your phone, "Dayan."

PHONE: Erica says, "It's Captain Snow, Officer. Sadly I've not seen the target."

Bekah nods her head. "I know." She says at that statement. "I was there." And her smile fades for a moment. Even for an ER doc that kind of mass suicide situation is haunting. "What do you have?" She asks in return to the question before she starts to dish up plates for both of them while he answer the phone. That way she'll know that Namir ate enough to statisfy her.

Namir covers the phone's mouthpiece to give a response: "Apple juice, milk, water, and cream soda." Then it's back to the phone as he moves toward the kitchen to get glasses.

PHONE: Namir sighs softly, disappointed, and his voice lowers a little. "He is probably in hiding, and New York is a big place. I have been suspended, or I would try to find out where they took him afterward. The hospital surely has records of who he is."

PHONE: Erica can be heard to audibly swallow when she hears the word suspended. "They probably do, yes. But I don't know anyone who can get access to them, much less break the laws on patient privacy. Have you got any trusted insiders in that arena, Officer?"

Namir pauses in the entrance to the kitchen and glances back at Bekah, studying her a moment before he continues his conversation:

PHONE: Namir pauses a moment. "I might. It would depend on which hospital, perhaps. I'm … not sure how many strings they could pull."

"Cream soda would be great." Well, really, Bekah would prefer alcohol about now, but that's not likely here. Coming to check on Namir is probably a better choice than getting drunk anyway. She finishes dishing up food, making sure both plates have Nan on them and then pauses to just listen to the conversation.

PHONE: Erica replies "Can they be trusted, with…" She trails off without elaborating.

There's the opening of a cupboard and the refrigerator in the kitchen, then the quiet clinking of glass before Namir reappears carrying two bottles of IBC cream soda and two tall glasses. The phone is still attached to his ear, but he sets down a bottle and glass for Bekah, then moves to take a seat on the floor next to the table. He uses the hem of his shirt as a buffer as he opens first Bekah's bottle, then his own. After speaking into his phone, he glances again at the doctor.

PHONE: Namir says, "Yes. I would trust them with my life. And have, actually — twice."

PHONE: Erica says, "Then you can be honest with them about me, if you wish."

Bekah takes the cream soda and pushes a plate over towards Namir. She's not going to interupt. Instead she'll just settle into a seat and start eating. After the long shift she works, she's starving.

Being on the phone, Namir can't really eat or drink quite yet, however he gives a grateful nod to Bekah when she pushes the plate over. He's able to focus on the conversation now that he's settled.

PHONE: Namir says, "I will, then, if it comes up. One of them is here now; I will speak to her. Keep up the good work, Captain."

PHONE: Erica says, "I'll be in touch, Officer, and have confidence your professional situation will swiftly resolve in your favor."

PHONE: The phone call has been ended by the other person.

The phone call ends, and Namir closes the phone, tucking it into his pocket once more. He shoots an apologetic smile Bekah's way. "Sorry about that. It was …" he waves a hand vaguely. Business. Whatever.

Bekah leans back and listens. She has a curious expression on her face but then she nods. "What do you need me to do?" She's willing, it seems. "I was there. After the game. I want to help with anything that involves figuring out what happened to all those people."

The smile grows and Namir pulls the plate closer to himself, taking up the naan. "I can tell you what happened to those people," he utters, "and why Scott Baker turned his gun on civilians, and why I shot Lieutenant Holcombe. There was a man there with a string of paper dolls. I believe he was exerting some sort of mind control on everyone. Before I was taken away, I … turned up the volume for him, so to speak. He was unconscious and bleeding from his ears and nose last I saw him. I imagine he was taken to a hospital somewhere, but I am not sure where." A meaningful glance is given to Bekah before he dips the naan and takes a bite from it.

Bekah nods her head considering that as she dips her na'an into a spinach dish. "Well, if I couldn't heal people with my touch, I'd probably say you were crazy. Since I can do freaky stuff myself, I'll say that's pretty likely." She pauses to think for a moment. "I'm not sure if he would have been brought into Mount Sinai. There might be another closer med center. We brought Lieutenant Holcombe to Mount Sinai, but that was because I was there, and convinced the paramedic to let me ride along and treat her."

Namir considers this a moment, mulling it over with a second bite of naan. "Mm." He swallows his mouthful. "Would you have access to records from other hospitals? I do not have the man's name, just an overall description of his person and his injuries. He would have been admitted with major trauma to his eardrums, perhaps hearing loss."

Bekah shrugs her shoulders. "It depends on the hospital. If they have links with us, it would be easier. If he came into Mount Sinai, it will be /much/ easier for me to get the information. Otherwise it's going to be tricky without a name. Maybe since I was there, I can play it off as checking on how people I saw there are doing."

Once again, Namir nods. "All I need is his name, or at least the name he would have used upon being admitted. I then might be able to have a background check run." Maybe. Namir doesn't exactly have major connections in the investigation department, and being suspended, he has no business running background checks on /anyone/. It was bad enough getting information on Ling Po. "And … perhaps any information on when or if he was released from the hospital." Best to know if the man is still on the streets.

Bekah finishes a bite of food before she replies, still thoughtful. "I can easily get you all that if he was treated at Mount Sinai. I can try if he was treated elsewhere, but there're no garuntees. I don't happen to be the best at charming info out of people." And that's definately something she's accepted as truth.

"I promise not to hate you if you cannot get the information," notes Namir with a smirk. "Even if you make the smallest effort, it would be greatly appreciated." He sighs softly then, the smile fading into a frown. "This would be much easier if I knew and trusted a detective, but … any detectives with whom I speak will surely put it on the record, and my entire defense would fall apart if it was." And that is really not something he wants to happen. Usually a truthful man, he would rather continue to work at a job in which he can do a great deal of good.

Bekah laughs at Namir's first statement. "Well, gee, if you promise not to hate me, I suppose I have to at least try." She comments with dry sarcasm before she gets more serious. "One of them lived. Of all those people who threw themselves off the stadium, I only found one that I could even get to respond to healing. So while this is in part for you, it's also because I never, ever want to do see that again." She pauses for a drink of her cream soda. She needs a moment before she replies. "What defense are you using?"

"Lieutenant Holcombe was in plain clothes at the time. She did not identify herself out loud — at least not to my knowledge— " which, admittedly, is not much, considering that Namir can only vaguely recall actually /shooting/ Viola "— and she fired on my teammate. I reacted as anyone with my training would have. I did not see her badge until after she was down." It's all mostly true, and it sounds a lot less crazy than 'that man with the paper dolls made me do it'.

Bekah eats from her plate as she listens to that. "Sounds like a reasonable story. And you shot her in the leg. That's more of a way to stop someone than something that comes across as trying to kill them." Bekah leans back in her seat. "She's going to be alright. I healed the worst of it right after it happened, and Sam got her all stitched up. It'll take some PT, but there shouldn't be any lasting damage." And she doesn't mention that she was practically swaying on her feet after checking all those bodies, partly healing major damage in the one live one, and then healing Viola.

A wry sort of smile pulls at the corners of Namir's lips. "You were busy that night," he notes in a low voice. Then, a shift in topic after he takes a swig from his soda. "Any news about the one survivor that you know of?" Not only would the survivor be the luckiest person on earth and it's heartening that Bekah was able to save at least one, but the survivor might also lend some credence to the idea that Scott Baker was not acting of his own volition when he shot those people.

Bekah nods her head with a sigh. "It's not great news, but the survivor is still a survivor. There was spinal damage. I healed that, but there were still multiple broken bones and internal bleeding." She seems to know what Namir is thinking of though as she shakes her head. "If you're thinking you'll learn from him, it's not likely. With that kind of impact, short term memory from right before the accident will be quite unreliable."

Now there's the rub. Namir shakes his head again. "Such is the way," he responds in a low voice, some bitterness seeping out. "Scott is a good man and a good officer — one of the best. Unlike myself, he does not /have/ a viable defense. He will lose his job over this, when it isn't even his fault." Vengeance isn't something that the Middle-Eastern man seeks often, however he also can't stand injustice.

Bekah doesn't care about vengence, just about it never happening again. "That completely sucks." She states simply between bites of Indian food. "Sometimes I just wish life could actaully be fair."

"Indeed." Namir doesn't eat very slowly, and he's soon finished. He pushes his plate toward the messy pile of papers surrounding the open laptop and picks up his soda to finish that off too. "It sounds selfish, but I hope the same does not happen to me. Being suspended is already putting me in a financial bind. I can only imagine how Sam feels about all this."

"How long will it take them to decide?" Bekah asks before she shakes her head. "You've got a good story. It makes sense to me at least." Even if it's not what really happened. "I don't think this will drive Sam away. She understands weird shit."

"Who knows? It could be anywhere from a few weeks to a few months, depending on how speedy their investigation is." Namir leans back, propping himself up on one hand. "Considering that it was the shooting of one of their own, I can't imagine they would let it drag out too much." He smirks wryly and finishes off the last of the soda before leaning forward again, elbows resting on the table. "It is my reputation after the fact that has me concerned. I have worked hard to be a good lawman and trusted in what I do, but the moment a Muslim shoots a comrade these days, he is branded nothing short of a traitor."

Bekah shakes her head. "A few months would be very hard on the finances." She states simply. Though this is from someone who has never had a real need to worry about money. "Well, you can always bitch to me if the damage to your reputation is jarring."

Namir chuckles softly. "It is not so much the frustration as it is the fact that nobody will ever trust me with a gun around them again — and in my line of work, that is severely damaging. I may win the trial, but I may lose my job anyway if I am unable to effectively work with my peers." He shakes his head. "I am probably looking too much into things, however, and focusing too much on the 'maybes'." Another shift in subject: "How have things been with you? Did that double date finally break the curse between yourself and Lee?"

Bekah nods her head. "With your job, I can imagine that anything that would be a distraction or cause people to second guess what you might be doing could be dangerous. Which sucks." She states before the shift gets a bit of a smile from her. "I think it did. What did you think of him?" She asks before she sighs. "Honestly, these last couple days, I haven't really thought much about him. Not since that baseball game." It's weighing on her mind, too.

"He seemed nice. Funny, smart, if not a little dry. He seemed to like you." The last is dropped casually, though Namir lifts his eyebrows meaningfully, smirking. "I am no expert on the subject, however. Dating is not exactly something at which I excel."

Bekah grins. "I hope he likes me. Otherwise I'd hope he'd not still be wanting to see me." Bekah states before she adds. "I like dry. I can have a very dry sense of humor myself at times. Dating isn't something I'm really good at either. Med school and residency have sucked up years of my life."

"College, the Army, and a high-risk job in addition to a strict Muslim upbringing spoiled mine," sympathizes Namir, the smirk remaining. "You would have to enjoy a dry sense of humor to be such good friends with Sam too, I imagine." It isn't a cruel sort of statement or critisizing; he /likes/ Sam's sense of humor. Obviously.

Bekah grins over to Namir. "You should spend more time around Sam and I together if you want to see really dry. Together we can get to desert levels." She jokes before she nods. "High school and college were good though. I went to a boarding school for high school, so without parents, even with the rules we had, we did a lot of dating and such."

"Two girlfriends in college, several sporadic blind dates set up by my family after that — good Muslim girls, of course." Namir snorts softly. "That is the extent of my love life, outside of Sam. She is honestly the first that I have considered wholly serious." He smiles a little. "Pathetic, hmm?" He thinks so.

Bekah shakes her head. "Nah, it's actually kind of sweet. Better than being so experienced you're jaded on the whole thing or won't take any relationships seriously." Bekah says before she pauses. "I won't recount my love life here. It'd make you blush worse than that book." She jokes before she stands, closing the food cartons. "There's enough left for another meal for you. Want me to put it in the fridge? Then I should be getting home. I need to get sleep."

When Bekah stands, Namir follows after a moment's pause, wincing a little as it appears his knees have fallen asleep from being stuck in one position for so long. Erk. "No, it's all right. I can take care of it." He instead heads for the door to open it for her. "Thank you for stopping by. I might have completely forgotten to eat if you hadn't."

Bekah grabs her backpack, a constant when she's coming on or off work. "I was afraid you might. This way I got a bit of company and made sure you ate at the same time. Sam can thank me later for the second." She jokes, covering a yawn with one hand. "Get some sleep tonight."

"You as well." Namir smiles. "Good night, Bekah."

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