2007-08-04: Missed You Like Whoa


DFElena_icon.gif Eric_icon.gif

Summary: Elena wakes up to find Eric waiting for her to wake up from another bout of well-deserved sleep. They catch each other up.

Dark Future Date: August 4, 2009

Missed You Like Whoa

Basement Levels, Phoenix Rising Penthouses

Its hard to tell what time it is down here. Eric had everything set to a day night cycle in general, but the medbay has its own light system and they have been off for most of the time, just to help the patients sleep. There are only two really. In truth only one in a sick bed. The beds themselves, there are four at the moment, are much more comfortable than the typical hospital bed. Eric spared no expense. The equipment is equal to the most modern hospitals, and the floors are clean and white, the walls a pleasing shade of blue. There are chairs and a couch or two scattered around near the door for people to wait and rest on.

One of the chairs has been dragged over to the side of the only occupied bed along with a small table. On the table sits four guns and a pair of knives, the larger two weapons about the size of Elena's favored Desert Eagles and the smaller of the two longer and sleeker looking. In the chair sits Eric, his head drooping forwards. He's changed clothes since the operation of course, two days is a bit much to go without something fresh. He's wearing one of his favorite old denim jackets, or at least thats what it looks like. Elena would know the original one of its type went up in the fire and explosion that nearly took the young man's life. A pair of blue jeans and dark grey t-shirt finish off his ensemble.

He looks to almost be asleep, his breathing deep and even as he just sits there and waits.

Dark eyes open wide in the dimly-lit room.

She had already seen Prime before he headed off to do some Saints business, but with so much rest - forced upon her, of course - Elena honestly couldn't sleep anymore. That, and she could detect someone's presence in the room, male, despite the fact that she could barely see anything. Shifting on the bed, she sits up and rubs her eyes with the back of one hand, and squints, trying to get used to the dark. Finally, she can't take the sitting around anymore. She needed to talk to Jack. Tossing the covers off her, slender legs pull to the edge.

Clad in nothing but a pair of modest underwear and a tanktop, she tests out her bandaged arm and her thigh. Blood had seeped through the latter overnight, her constant tossing and turning probably aggravated the stitches. The pain was almost unbearable, but better the thigh than the calf. Pulling her long, dark hair into a messy twist, she stands up, not so much as oblivious of her state of undress as it is her sheer apathy about it. She has long since ceased to care about her modesty. After running around as the second head of the snake for a terrorist group, showing off skin was the least of her problems.

She lets Eric sleep, striding past him so she could rifle around the medical cabinets for a spare roll of gauze, a fresh needle and surtures.

He dosn't react at first as she slides out of bed, when she steps past him though his head snaps up, one hand going to the table with all the weapons on it. Its a reflex action, one that he controls almost before it begins, his fingers only resting on the grip of one of the pistols instead of snatching it up. A deep breath then before he seems to relax, look around and his eyes fasten on Elena. He pauses a moment, surprised to be honest, before shaking his head slightly as if to clear it.

His eyes have that same silvery sheen to them that is a giveaway that he is seeing in the dark. Its the same sheen that has leached some of the natural color away from Eric's eyes over the years. He looks tired, exhausted even. Rings under his eyes and an almost shaky look about him. Dried blood flecks away from one hand as he pulls back from the guns. He smiles towards her though, and the smile takes some of the lines away, softens a few of the scars.

"…you'll just make a mess of things if you try to stitch up yourself you know." He finally says, his first words to her in days. He shifts slightly, starting to unfold himself from the seat. "…and if your going to insist on it then at least let me get the lights."


She's doing to do it anyway. Elena doesn't look at him at the moment, busy threading the needle and pulling out a med kit. Walking to the table, she sets the items down and props her leg up on one of the stools. A knife is slid out from the weapons-laden table, spun around absently in her fingers before slicing the gauze off her leg, letting it fall away into tatters to reveal the bullet hole closed with said stitching. She can't help but wrinkle her nose. "We ought to recruit a doctor. As in, someone licensed." While she managed to graduate from MIT as a pre-med, she hasn't managed to actually get on the ball in applying to medical schools yet.

The tip of the knife flicks up deftly to start removing the past stitching, so she could give herself new surtures. But at the very least she waits for Eric to get the lights. "How's everyone else?" she asks, frowning as she watches blood flow. But the pain doesn't reach her face. She has been cheating on that for two years now, ever since she discovered that handy aspect of her powers. She looks up, finally, to meet his eyes.

"It's good to see you." A pause. "And I missed you too."

At least she didn't forget it.

"…somethings never change," Its all Eric can think to say as he walks over to the wall and raises the light to a more comfortable to a normal person. It hides the half smile on his face as he has his back towards her. He turns back though after the lights come up and watches her a moment with the knife. Glancing down at her wound he shakes his head. She's cheating again. He knows it, she knows he knows it. No use pointing out the obvious there is it? "Well I wasn't up on ones we could actually trust in New York," He replies with a shrug. "…I might have too if you keep getting this banged up though." Not to mention that he was the only other one in the OP to get shot.

"There settling in, exploring the new place…I think Jack is dancing in the armory…or actually enjoying a shower." Or a bed. Either way he wasn't about to interrupt the man if he was doing either of the latter things. "Since I already know the place, I decided to stay." He adds. His eyes raise to meet hers, and in his eyes there is pain and exhaustion waring for dominance. He's running on fumes. However he's still running and that at least is something.

"…it's good to see you too…and I'm glad I'm back," He pauses a moment. No. She didn't forget. His eyes close and he turns away slightly before glancing back towards her.

"I'm sorry I didn't come back sooner."

"It's alright. We have Cass. She might have dropped out, but she's smart and competent." Elena glances back to what she's doing, dousing some disinfectant over the wound. "Which is more than what I could say of other doctors. You know medical malpractice is considered 'foreseeable' now? As in, you ought to expect it? That's a little scary, don't you think, when these days you can't even trust your own caregivers anymore?"

She swabs the rivulets of blood flowing from the wound. "I need your hands." When he approaches, she puts his hands on her thigh, positioning both his thumbs on the edges of the wound to keep it closed and tight while she starts suturing her own bullet wound. Her fingers are efficient, the stitches coming out small and almost brutally precise. She could tough it out, grin and bear it, but why? When she had the power to take away pain as much as she could give it?

"Don't," she tells him when he apologizes. "How could you? Whoever tried to kill your father and your sister tried to kill you too. You won't be able to find anything if they think you're still alive and looking for them. They would've scurried back into their ratholes and if that happened, God knows how many weeks or months or years before you find anything."

She pauses from her stitching, and looks up at him.

"Archie Mortensen," she says the name quietly. "CPA. Your father's tax guy, yeah? The one who supposedly fled the country after your father died? I found him."

"Yeah, I'm going to get her and Lachlan a way into this place," Eric smirks slightly. "Thats one of the many things on the to do list." He adds with a chuckle. The moment of good cheer falls though as she explains about the doctors and he curses softly. "If you can't trust the government why should we trust the doctors." He says, letting a slight bit of bitterness seep into his words. He clears it away with a vicious shake of his head before glancing back up.

He nods once, setting his hands on her thigh and keeping the wound tightly closed. Two years ago they both would be blushing fiercely at something like this. Now its just a matter of practical thinking. His vision swims a moment but he keeps his hands steady, watching the faint tracery of scars on his hand, his own dried blood, her new and bright flowing blood. Trying not to collapse right in front of her. That wouldn't leave a very good impression would it.

He shakes his head. "…I know, I know all that…it doesn't change the fact that I wanted to come back here as soon as I was awake again." He smirks slightly. "…I pissed the hell out of Davis. He keeps telling me the doctors wanted to keep me an extra three months of physical therapy. I wouldn't listen." His face goes hard for a moment. "It'll still be months or years, but I'll find them."

At the pause he blinks and drags his gaze up her body and to her eyes. He listens to her words and for a moment looks shocked. Then the shocked look goes hard as stone. "…Mortensen was in an detainment camp?" He asks, eyes narrowing. "…he might know something."

"It might not be a good idea, Eric." Sven? Who's Sven? "I think you should still ask, of course," Elena tells him. "But they have Abigail now. I think she's about a year old, or she will be. We've been operating all these months under the assumption that not everything is secure, and that we could be found. If trouble is attracted here….I don't want a toddler involved. What we do despite good intentions is ugly. I'd like to think the kid can live normally despite it all."

His shyness and her prudishness seems to have died along with their loved ones' bodies. She finishes the suturing, swabbing off the remaining blood. He can let go now, and she wraps the gauze around her leg, stapling it off before dumping the needle into a cup full of alcohol. She exhales a breath, and she doesn't say anything for a while, but she slowly lets go of her control. Pain climbs up her leg like fiery spikes. "You should've stayed," she tells him. "Recuperated more. You're not helping yourself if you keep pushing your body beyond its limits when you're not even at a hundred percent. And you need an IV something fierce."

She could tell. He was pale, and sweat had broken out over his brow at his poor attempt at a nap. She gestures for him to sit down on one of the cots, and she'll look around the room for an IV. "You also need to eat." And she's not going to let him argue. She can immobilize him with a thought, literally, if he argued the matter. And when his face hardens, she nods. "That's where I was."

She drags a stool with wheels over, taking a seat in front of Eric and reaching for his arm once she finds an IV. "I infiltrated a camp. ….well it's not really a camp. They call it a temporary detention facility, I call it a collection cup. The new one in Brooklyn, where they take humans to be reviewed, interrogated….before shipping them off. Once it reaches full capacity, they ship out the detainees to the actual camps. I found a few names in there Jack would be interested in, but Mortensen was a surprise. I thought he fled the country, but the HSA managed to grab him before he could. One good thing those bastards did for us, I guess. I'm going to see if Jack'll be alright with a mass extraction. If he is….we can keep Mortensen in the packing plant. Have you seen its interrogation room?"

"…I get bedridden for a year and Cass goes and has a kid, what is this world coming too?" Eric says with a smirk towards her, some of the old humor coming back for a moment before he sighs and nods. "I wouldn't want them to stay here with us. I don't want to bring fire and brimstone down on them. It'll be nice to have Cass able to come patch us up sometimes though." He says with a nod. "I'll give her a key, but I won't insist that they stay or anything. I won't insist anyone stay who doesn't want too." He runs his hand over his face a moment, feeling the sweat there.

He lets her go though, standing again and dusting off his hands. He reaches out to help steady her as they both help each other make their way back towards the bed. To find somewhere to sit down. He settles back into the chair he left a moment ago and smirks slightly towards Elena. "…you know me, I couldn't stay away. I've never been one to listen to reason, you know that." He shrugs slightly. "I've survived well enough. It might not be smart Elena, but I couldn't just stay away and do nothing but send money." He closes his eyes as he sags back into the chair. "…I missed you." He admits it softly, like it was a moment of weakness.

She doesn't have to immobilize him though, he sits even as he points out an IV to the corner of the room. "Yes though I need to eat…I just forgot. I was worried," He adds after a moment, though at her words his eyes narrow and he nods. "…a mass extraction. I think Jack would like that…and yes I have. Rather intimidating place that interrogation room is. I think that would work quite nicely."

"Hell. But that's not much of a change from the last four billion years," Elena quips sardonically. She pauses, and she sighs. "I'm not being a very good Catholic by saying it but it's true. I don't think God's here anymore…..I think however that he made it so we could carve out a piece of heaven for ourselves if we're strong enough." She finds the vein in his arm, tying him off with a bit of rubber tubing and flicking her fingers to get it to stand out. After sterilizing the needle, in it goes, so the IV could do its stuff.

"And believe me the charitable contributions are doing us good. Most of it goes to Gene." She glances away a bit. "He thrives in this sort of environment - I still don't see how he could manage to….be how he is despite everything. Between you and me, he's the strongest out of all of us, and he consistently runs on borrowed time." Gene had a tumor. An inoperable one, but something they've been holding at bay thanks to her and Cass's efforts. But when he tells her he misses her, she looks over at him. She allows herself to give him a small smile, an old smile. "…you already said that," she says softly, her eyes lowering so she could concentrate on what she's doing. She tapes the needle securely at the crook of his elbow.

"And I prefer interrogations and prisoners go there anyway. I don't relish the thought of housing people we don't like so close to the homestead. I'll work on a game plan, see if the Shepherd approves. But it has to be quick. Father Brady's in there….he's scheduled for execution." Father Brady, Eric would remember, was the Gomezes' pastor, and Jack's occasional confessor. The old Irish man had a Sinatra-thing going for him, if Sinatra had been born Irish. "He's one of us, but he passed himself off as a human being, just like me, to tend to his flock. Do God's work with those who really need it. They were going to kill a 17 year old with a juvie record a mile wide, as an example. Father Brady decided to take his place." Her jaw sets, hardens. "I'm not about to let it happen if I can't help it. He presided over Papa and Dezi's wedding."

When the beaten jacket comes off Elena might notice a few things. The jacket looks like its denim, but its heavier, and almost slick. Definitely not denim, but it looks very much like it. Its some kind of ballistic weave fiber, likely some kind of soft body armor. The other thing is that under that the sleeveless t-shirt he wears does nothing to cover the scars that crisscross his left arm in an ugly pattern where it looks to be shrapnel tore into him. He doesn't react as the needle goes into the arm, the vein easy to find, simply watching her a moment. He sighs before he shakes his head slightly. "…yes, I think your not being a very good Catholic. I think that closer to the truth than anything else. Now we just have to figure out just where our piece of heaven is." His eyes linger on her a moment before they close and he relaxes back into the chair even more.

"…he is the strongest of us all. He wants to keep us human, keep us on the path or right," Eric smiles slightly. "…and I think thats why he's so strong. Because he only has borrowed time." He pauses a moment at the small smile though, his eyes lighting up as he returns it, just as he used too years ago. "Yeah, so maybe I'm getting senile in my old age and just forgot," He murmurs in response. "…or maybe I just mean it that much."

He nods though towards her, his face going more businesslike as she starts to talk shop. "…I had a prison built here, but yes I would prefer never to have to use it. I don't want anyone who isn't a Saint to know about this place. It'll be much more secure that way I'd like to think." He blinks at the story. "…he married your dad and Dezi? Then yeah…we can't let him die. I'm sure Jack will agree with that." He smirks slightly. "…well…at least I came back at a busy time." He adds with a ghost of his old grin. "…like usual Elena. Life is seldom boring with you around." He pauses again before he adds. "…I offered Ramon rooms in the penthouses above. I have ways to get to them from here without being seen. So if you like and he stays here you'll be able to see him more." He smiles slightly. "…and no, its not me playing favorites. I offered rooms to all Phoenix CEOs."

"…what the crap is this thing made out of?" Elena wonders out loud, picking up the jacket so she could set it aside…only to realize it's heavier than it ought to be. "Don't tell me you managed to acquire some sort of weapons development firm overseas that you can grab this stuff and customize it to items Jadinne would go crazy for." …..granted that's probably what happened. Eric was the one with the mind for business, not her. He probably knew which companies to invest in, which one to snap up, which one to discard…..and hide it under masses and masses of paper and numbers.

She sets the jacket to the side, and glances at the injuries. Her fingertips reach out to trace the spiderweb pattern starting on left arm. "Jesus…" she mutters under her breath. "….you know you could probably afford cosmetic grafts on these by now…." she says. But Eric was a man. He probably kept them all because of the old addage of 'chicks dig scars,' the cad.

She meets his eyes when he talks about heaven, and about meaning it that much. She glances down at her fingers, knowing the signs. The look. But now they were more deeply entrenched in this lack of time thing more than ever. Still, she reaches out to thread his fingers into hers, giving his hand a squeeze. "You're not -that- old, you dork," she says finally, quietly.

But when he leans back and closes his eyes, she shakes her head, removing her hand to point to the cot. "Bed," she tells him. "You can't stay sitting up all day. Not when you were just sitting there waiting for the next time I'm going to wake up." Straightforward as always, and her perception hasn't dulled in the slightest. "And you need real food. Do you have a chef or something in the premises? And heh…yeah. You know me, I try to be entertaining."

She smiles. "Yeah, thanks…..I would like to, and Manny too. Portia, as well. I ought to drop in on them now that I'm back. Cass and Lachlan too. I don't see them as often as I ought to be."

"Soft body armor," Eric replies with a slight smirk. "…its still too bulky and too expensive for mass production. Some kind of laminated fabric mesh. I don't know the details…and yes I did actually," He adds after a moment. "…a pair of them. I nudged one in the direction of body armor and the other in the direction of small arms." They are hidden so well, under layers and layers of paperwork and hidden investments that not many people look at them. "Thats where the guns come from." He nods towards the table before he raises an eyebrow. "And no, I can't do a ballistic mesh evening dress yet. But I'm sure you would look good in it if I did."

"…I could have yes," Eric agrees as he closes his eyes. "It would have put me in the hospital for more than three more months. I didn't want to wait. They don't slow me down very much, and no one knows about them as long as I keep to my suits." Pause. "…which I /do/ have made out of ballistic weave."

He squeezes back but says nothing, what is there to say. So much to do, no time for anything else. He smirks slightly as a line from an old movie goes through his head.

'No time for love Doctor Jones!'

He snorts out a laugh though before he rolls his eyes. "Yeah yeah, I'm not that old, but still you send me to bed. You going to share it with me?" He adds with a lopsided smirk towards her, his tone lightly teasing. "…and yes, I do have a chef…Louis. Just be nice to him, he's got a temper and he's the one that taught me how to use a knife." Leaning forwards he starts to sit up. "I'll call him and have him send down…" He grins. "…a few cheeseburgers?" Then a smirk. "Well you always are entertaining." He pauses again before he gives her a rakish grin as he sits down on the side of the bed.

At the smile though he sighs and nods towards her. "Yes you should…I've only seen Ramon but then again he works for me. I haven't even met Portia…" And Manny? Well Manny he needs to meet…and hire.

After all. He always has people to kill.

She can't help it. Elena laughs - despite everything, she didn't lose the ability to do so. "I'm not the evening dress type anyway," she tells him simply, quirking a brow at him. "The only times I wear them is during an op. …don't ask, you weren't around for that." She nods, when he explains. She figured as much. "I heard Papa's looking for a new money launderer for us. I guess it's back to the Caymans for us in the meanwhile." Cayman Islands: Where Funds go to disappear.

She shakes her head a bit. "I would continue to voice my displeasure over your haste in coming back," she tells Eric. "But admittedly if I was in your shoes, I would've done the same. Papa's getting antsy too, wanting to do more. He's still looking for Dezi. Truth be told, I went in the last assignment in hopes to ask Father Brady if Dezi -said- something, or….you know? Something that could give us a clue as to where she was going, if she's still alive. There wasn't a body, not like…..Luis or Nita…" Her throat constricts a touch, reminded of innocent ones lost.

But when he offers to call Louis, she smiles. "People you trust, huh?" she murmurs. "And yeah, cheeseburgers. With bacon. And pickles. ……oh and curly fries. And ketchup." There is a pause, and she continues. "Hawaiian Punch. And ice cream sundaes." Yes. She eats like a horse. Before he says anything, she throws him a look. "And before you say it, no, I'm not pregnant. I just….I need food. Especially with my Boost."

When he mentions Manny and Portia, she smiles. "I can find Portia easily. It's Manny I have a hard time tracking these days. But I can find him." Manny was an Advent Child, like her. The drug used on her mother to help with the process was unique, fused into the genetic structure of the resulting children. Manny had the same signature, the same marker. Get in range, and she'd be able to find her brother.

"Its good to hear that laugh again," Eric replies he smirks towards her. "…I missed you in an evening gown? Did Jack at least get pictures?" He asks with his eyes lighting up. He sighs though and nods. "The last one found something out and threatened to go to Security." The obvious end of that little problem was something best left unsaid. "…and the Caymans are always useful."

"If you were in my shoes you would have been back as soon as you could hobble," He replies with a laugh. "…I know though. He's looking for Dezi, and I'm helping as much as I can. Maybe I'll stumble on something about who killed my family in the meantime." He nods. "Then this is more important, for you and me…" However at the mention of her brother and sister, he reaches out and covers her hand in his, giving it a squeeze. No words there, just his quiet support.

He just blinks at the sudden request for food and starts to laugh. "I didn't say it. I didn't say it!" He says holding one hand up in his own defense as he laughs towards her and then reaches out for a small comm on the bedside table. "Yes people I can trust, I'll have food sent down as fast as possible." Oh his chef is going to LOVE cooking a 'cheeseburger'. He can't wait to see what actually comes down.

"…I think I can find Manny, he's still doing a bit of work." He says as he relays the orders into the comm softly. "…and good…I would like to meet Portia." He blinks slightly at something from the Comm. "…yes. Some cheeseburgers." Pause. "Ketchup…Hawaiian Punch, three sundaes." Pause. "Well, go get some Punch then!" Grumble grumble. He sets the comm down before smirking towards her. "Should be here soon enough."

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