2007-03-13: Finding What Is Broken


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Summary: It's Nathan's turn to unexpectedly arrive on Jane's doorstep. He finds things to be more broken than either of them remember.

Date It Happened: March 13, 2007

Finding What Is Broken

Greenwich Village, NYC - Apartment 108, Forrest Residence

Getting out of a cab, Nathan glances over the building it has stopped at, before taking out a folded piece of paper from his pocket and looking it over. This is the place, it seems. Nathan casts a glance back to the cab as it pulls away, as if unsure of what he's doing here, exactly, before resolutely heading into the building. It's later in the morning and Nathan looks like an insomniac, dark circles under his eyes and a generally unkempt appearance, although his clothes are fine, an off-white shirt, grey slacks and a coat. Coming to the door, he glances up and down the hallway, and, seeing no one, he knocks sharply, three times.

Time passes, a minute or two, maybe longer, before she reaches the door and opens it, although he can tell someone's in there. Sounds of moving around come through, a female voice calling out shakily along with them. "Jim?" she asks, a pained and yet hopeful sounding quality to her words. Jane hopes, desperately hopes, it's Jim on the other side; meaning her sponsor didn't really flake out all the way and did eventually come to see what was up. When her door opens, the sight is what some might call shocking. She looks very little like the poised and confident woman who approached the former Representative with an idea and later went on a raid to free captives. Her hair looks stringy and matted with sweat, she's pale and weak, her weight resting on the door for support and hands shaking. She doesn't appear to have slept or showered, her clothing a grey tank top and shorts without shoes. "Jim," she greets, not really looking at who she opened the door to yet. "I'm… I'm in hell."

A moment passes, Nathan standing still in silence, before he presses a hand against the door, as if to open it wider and walk inside. "Jane," he says, to get her attention, head tilting to meet her eyes. "It's me, Nathan." He glances over her and into the apartment, as if inside there would be any hints or clues to his question. "Can I come in?"

"Nathan?" the woman replies, moving back away from the door a bit and leaning against the wall. "I… don't know a Nathan." The eyes which meet his are haunted, so much pain in them; much like someone suffering through intense headaches. "Come, come in. Jim, my sponsor, must've sent you." She closes her eyes and takes some moments to try steadying herself, then walks slowly back to the interior. "Thought he abandoned me."

Nathan glances back at into the hallway, but even if he can't just leave. The door clicks shut behind him when he steps into the apartment, slowly following her further inside. "No one's abandoned you," he says, distractedly, as he glances around, hands sliding into his pockets. When he looks again at Jane, he's clearly unsettled. "Who's Jim? Your sponsor like how?"

In the main area, where Jane's headed, the place is in disarray. Her guitars are scattered around the room, as if she'd made attempts to play them over the past day and a half, along with numerous crumpled sheets of paper with scrawled, barely legible writing on them. "Addiction…" It hits her slowly, the whole of what he asked. "You don't know Jim. Who… are you?" She sinks into a chair and slumps back against it, hands visibly shaking and her eyes close for a moment then reopen to study the face and try to place a name with it.

Nathan nods once at the mention of addiction, but he doesn't push the issue. Everyone's got demons. He picks up a chair, bringing it closer to Jane's and taking a seat. "Do you—" He pauses. How does one go about this. He doesn't want to scare Jane anymore than she already is, and this is evident in the quiet tones of his voice. "Do you remember a meeting on the roof of the Devaux building?" he tries. "And Hiro Nakamura?"

Recognition comes after a period of study. His face was, after all, everywhere just a few shorts months ago near election time. Even though she was in Connecticut, she still saw New York newspapers and televisions stations. Jane's face shows surprise, shock. And deep embarrassment mixed with everything else. Here she is fighting through all this, and now a former Congressman shows up at her door. To see her, like this. "Please, don't, don't look at me, I'm all a mess. What's the Deveaux building? Hiro… who?" Trembling hands come up to cover her face, she draws knees in and hugs them to her chest.

Nathan is quiet, after that, just watching Jane with a carefully blank expression. He hesitates before putting a hand on her arm, just beneath her wrist. "Something has happened to you, Jane," Nathan says, trying again to meet her gaze. "You've forgotten a few things. We've talked before, just in the last few days. You helped me. I… came here to thank you and make sure you got home safe." There's guilt, there, in his voice, but his expression is simply a stoic mask.

Her fingers on that hand still a bit when touched, she moves one of them just enough to see the man partially. "I helped you? I… it's blurry, a lot of blur, the past month. I woke up two days ago somewhere south of AC surrounded by pills, made my way back here, then… hell swallowed me. I don't wanna believe it, can't remember why, but… I must've to be like this now, must've taken drugs and gotten hooked, Jim said it was one of the Ds." Jane looks back into his eyes, trying to understand what he's saying. "I never talked to you before. How did I help you, sir? Please, don't tell anyone about this, can't… can't have anyone ever know I'm an addict."

All that Jane could probably find in Nathan's eyes is guilt, but he shuts this down quickly, glance flickering down to the ground before he sits up straight, hand moving from her arm. "You helped me and my brother," he says, with a strained smile. "He was in a bad place, too, for a while. I guess that all just flew away in the blur, right?" He stands, backing up a step. "I won't tell anyone. But…" He hesitates, then takes out a business card - the same he had given her only days ago - and holds it out. "You might find the matching one of these in your wallet. If you need anything… money or…" He falters, as if unsure of what he's offering. "Or anything, you can ring me."

Behind her, mingled in with the disarrayed guitars and crumpled papers are a half dozen or so dirtied bowls. They look like they've got the remnants of oatmeal and other cereals in them, evidence Jane's at least been eating during this time, and some empty water bottles as suggestion she's managed to avoid dehydration too. "I… helped your brother," she repeats, sounding confused, as shaking fingers take the card and hold it unsteadily. "Bad place, don't know your brother, but, bad place. Cold turkey's got me on the run. I hurt all over, desperately want a fix, but I won't crack. Gonna beat this, maybe another day or so. I have to beat this."

Nathan remains impassive, listening to her ramble, gaze switching from her face to the floor. "Of course," he says softly, because what else is there to say? He's already put some distance between them, but he closes the gap again to kneel in front of her, taking her hand, trying to at least get /this/ across to her. "I'm sorry, Jane," he says. "I know that means nothing to you right now, but I'm sorry. I'll get you help. Not just… I'll get you /real/ help." Standing, again, he's almost retreating, the way he walks back towards the front door.

"Thank you, sir," Jane replies quietly, as he takes her hand and speaks. The shaking slows a bit from that contact, and she watches him move away after releasing it. "Thank you for coming, and… keeping it secret. "I'm sorry to be such a mess, sir. I swear, you won't see me like this again. Please believe me."

Nathan pauses by the door to nod at her with another awkward smile, one that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "No apology needed, Ms. Forrest," he says. "I believe you'll be fine." And then, he's gone, door closing behind him.

Outside, Nathan looks up at the building he had just exited. His expression is like thunder, and he ignores the cabs he could flag down, and opts to walk.

After he leaves she draws her legs back up to hug herself again, eyes closing against the headaches and fingers shaking; Jane continues becoming linked in experiences with one of her musical influences. "Cold turkey has got me, on the run." The voice is soft, murmured, heard only by her as she's once again alone. He may soon, or later, remember another detail of the visit which might come to greater prominence given what he knows of her: Bad as she was, there was a telling absence of shattered glass.

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