2007-08-07: DF: Rainbows Are Visions


DFJane_icon.gif DFPortia_icon.gif

Summary: Portia, in need of assistance, uses a song to keep herself awake until it arrives. She's found and taken to safety.

Dark Future Date: August 7th, 2009

Rainbows Are Visions

Manhattan, NYC

The moon is out, it's appearance a sliver in the night sky as the woman's eyes scan the area around a building she's about to enter. Inside is one of the locations she keeps around the city. Satisfied all is clear, Jane steps through the doorway. She yawns slightly. On her hip is the iPhone she carries, set to work without earbuds at the moment. Feet move quietly down the hall toward a sturdy door, which she opens with a set of keys.

PHONE: You receive a text from Portia: Jane. where are you. important.

The sound of a text message coming in causes Jane her to stop in the act of opening that door and pull the device off her hip to check it out. The words seen make her eyebrows raise, and begin to tap a reply.

PHONE: You sent the following text to Portia: I'm in Manhattan. What's the situation?

PHONE: You receive a text from Portia: dont think can make it that far near park

The second text causes her to go through that door a bit more quickly now, causing some delay in replying to it. Jane leaves the door open a bit behind her in the haste to get what she might need. A locker is crossed to and opened, from it she pulls out a pistol which is slipped into the back of her jeans, and an M16 rifle is grabbed along with a few magazines next. After doing this, she pauses to send Portia a message.

PHONE: You sent the following text to Portia: On the way. Be stationary.

Adrenaline had been what had kept Portia upright after that little incident. She'd been scared, there'd been a gun to her head, and she had to get away. However, once she had gotten away, the invisible girl had quickly found that head injuries equal light-headedness and lack of focus. Thankfully, the invisibility stays up and she manages to slump in against a wall in a nearby alley, although the effort resulted in her straining her already aching wrist. The text messages had been sent as she stumbled along, managing to help her keep focused, but the second she's down against the wall, Portia shuts her eyes. Hard to focus.

She dons a light jacket, black in color and long enough to conceal the pistol at the small of her back, then slips the spare magazines into it as she next grabs a specialized guitar case. The M16 rifle goes into it, placed into features that allow use without opening the container. The onetime office in the building which houses her former recording studio, now defunct, is exited after securing the items kept there and the sturdy door on her departure.

And Jane is on her way to Portia's assistance, keeping her eyes alertly focused ahead for whatever trouble exists when she nears the Park.

Focus. Focus. Need to focus. Portia doesn't make a sound in the alley, mostly because she's invisible and doesn't want to be detected. The phone is settled on her leg, set on vibrate so it will give her away as little as possible as she waits for Jane to show up. Twisted arm held carefully in the other to minimize the pain, she's trying to focus. What can she do? Something. Anything. So Portia does the only thing she knows to do in this situation. She murmurs lyrics to herself as she leans her head back, trying hard not to touch the injured side of it against the wall. "Why are there.. so many… songs about.. rainbows.. what's on the.. other side.."

In the area, not knowing where the teen is, Jane stops. Time to get more info, a precise location. She takes benefit of a structure and shadows around it, keeping watch for trouble, while sending out a fresh message.

PHONE: You sent the following text to Portia: Advise of location. Am nearby.

Focus. Focus. "Rainbows are visions… and onl..y.. illusions.." BUZZ. Portia doesn't move her head as the text comes in, but her good hand releases her bad arm and she pulls the phone up to her field of vision. The buttons are pushed, and once sent, the teen lets the invisibility drop. "Rainbows.. have nothing.. t'hide.." She murmurs.

PHONE: You receive a text from Portia: alley

When the message arrives she checks it quickly and starts looking for an alley in the area by the park entrance. Jane can only hope the girl meant Central Park, that being what she assumed was the meaning. There's an alley entrance not far away, found within a few more minutes, but it's dark. She fails to spot Portia immediately, and so resorts to quietly calling out her name. Attention is something she doesn't much want, whatever caused this could involve weapons.

"So we've been told.. and some choose to believe it.. I know.. they're.. wrong.. wait'n'see.." The sixteen year old girl's eyes flicker shut again. She hears nothing. Lips continue to murmur the song, allowing her to focus her attention on that. Still, that moment of resting her eyes isn't helping. It's only making matters worse. She doesn't even bother cradling her arm, phone still in hand, resting against her leg.

Stepping further into the alley, looking and listening for Portia, Jane's ears pick up on the singing and her eyes follow it to the source swiftly after. "I'm here," she states. One knee settles to the concrete as she begins to check her out as well as darkness permits.

"Someday we'll find it.. the rainbow connection.. lovers..dreamers..me.." Portia murmurs, fighting off the growing drowsiness the best she can until she hears Jane and her eyes flicker open. At first glance, the young woman seems alright. She doesn't look as if anything particularly bad has happened. Upon closer inspection, first noticeable is her wrist, which is a little swollen and twisted a bit wrong. Probably not broken, but it's certainly causing her some pain. An even closer inspection, however, would be one side of her head. One side of her face is caked in blood, bruised and cut, from it looks like impact with asphalt, as indicated by.. well.. the fact that there's some little bits of the material still there on her face. She didn't touch it at all for fear of how bad it was, but it's definitely been banged around enough to cause blood loss and most definitely a concussion.

"Focus on me, Portia," Jane instructs. "Can you stand up? I need you to do what I say and stay with me. Don't fall asleep." Maybe it's valid, maybe it isn't, but she's heard that said to people with head injuries before. One thing this one isn't, it's a doctor. There's worry and, yes, anger rising to find Portia like this, but that she can deal with later. The situation needs to be addressed first. She checks to determine if the injured one is still bleeding.

"Yeah.. trying to focus." Portia looks back towards Jane, moving to try to get to her feet. She can get up, but she's still a little dizzy. "Hurts though. Trying my best.." She murmurs, good hand steadying herself against the wall.

Her shoulder is given for support, Jane reaches to take one arm and drape it over her shoulders so Portia can be helped to stand and walk. "I've got you," she asserts, "stay awake, stay with me." The first order of business, as she sees it, is getting her out of the alley. To safety. The eyes check her head injury again for signs she's still bleeding.

For the most part, it looks like the bleeding's stopped. Mostly. Portia glaly leans against Jane, trying her best to focus. So she focuses while talking. "Would have tried to get over there to you but my head's a little funny so…"

"It's okay, I've got you now, we'll get you to a safe place. Where's Senor Gomez's penthouse?" That seems to be where Jane's opting to guide Portia. And the voice continues, urging her to stay awake, to keep her talking. "We'll go over what happened later. I was so scared when you messaged, thought you were maybe in a gun battle or something. So I came, and came armed."

"Nononono.." Portia's grip on Jane tightens. "Not there." The girl looks panicky, but she doesn't seem to explain why. "No.. gun part is over.. not much of a battle when it's on your head.."

"Okay, okay," she agrees, abandoning the plan of taking her to Ramon's place. Jane instead begins guiding her toward the building where she got the first message. From there she can help Portia better and see about transportation to a place where she can be looked at. Involving standard hospitals and a case like this, which might be reported, to her is a very bad idea.

Portia seems a little jumpy for a hospital anyways. "I don't wanna die." She murmurs, making good time with however fast Jane moves, somehow still managing to focus. The question really is, however, is she worried about dying from the injuries, which really wouldn't likely /kill/ her, or from something else entirely.

"You're not going to die," she replies. "You've got eighty-four years left, Portia." Jane doesn't move too fast, not wanting to rush and risk injuring the supported one further, but she also doesn't dawdle more than needed. "I've got you, you're safe, it's all going to be okay." The voice speaks softly to give comfort and inspire confidence. Eventually she reaches the building where this began for her and makes a way in, letting Portia lean on her while she opens the various locks on that door so they can enter.

"Kay." Portia murmurs, glancing back to Jane as they head into the building. "Everyone's gonna kill me, though. I probably look bad, huh?" She starts to hum softly, trying to keep focused. "Got a migrane.."

"They're not going to kill you," she replies easily, "because I just said you've got eighty-four years left, and that would make me wrong. I don't intend to be wrong. Your head's hurt, you've been bleeding, but you'll be all right soon enough. I need to find someone who can look you over, give you stitches if needed and see about treating a concussion. You might have one of those."

Inside the former office, it's spartan. There's the weapons locker, a few chairs, some desks, and a mattress on the floor along with a television, radio, and some other odd electronics. A few of those special guitar cases rest against a wall. It's got power; she flips a switch and lights come on overhead.

Wincing at the light as it comes on, Portia wrinkles her nose with distaste. Mostly at how bright the light is. The injury, however, is a lot easier to see. It looks worse than it probably is, matted with blood and dirt. Definitely needs to be cleaned. "Jane.. thank you for coming to get me."

"Have a seat," Jane invites, gesturing toward one of the chairs while moving toward a door to one side. There's a bathroom on the other side of it, where water can be gotten from a sink. "I think I have some aspirin in the desk." A glass, mostly clean, is partly filled with water and brought out to Portia. "No need to thank me at all. I do this for anyone close to me who asks. And sometimes even if they don't ask."

The young woman gladly sinks down into the chair, which she finds to be.. the most comfortable chair she's ever sat upon in her life. Portia gets comfortable, glancing back to Jane as she returns with the water. "I want to thank you anyways.. didn't want to bug someone else about it." There was something about the Gomezes that made them a little tempermental when it came to their loved ones being hurt. Which made it a lot easier for Portia to decide to contact Jane instead.

Oh, but Portia has no idea, yet. Jane seems calm because Portia needs tending, but there's a seething cauldron behind it. She can focus and delay letting loose emotion, it's something she did even before the war came. Behind the eyes which now show compassion for the injured young woman is the anger which normally blazes in them. When the glass is handed off, she opens a desk drawer and pulls out a bottle of aspiring, handing that over too. "What happened?" she asks. "If you're ready to talk about it."

Oh, but Portia would talk about it if only she weren't kind of.. terrified. "No way. He's doing to shoot me in the head if I say anything. He /knows where I live/." There's genuine fear there, one hand creeping up to the good side of her head, touching her temple. Where the gun was. ".. was.. just gonna shoot me.. in the head. Just wanted to help.." The pills are carefully poured into her hand, even though she's a little shakey, before they're swallowed with a sip of water. "Can't live eighty four more years if someone shoots my brains out.."

"He's not going to shoot you in the head, Portia," Jane asserts, with a dangerous edge coming into her voice, "because I intend to find him and have a… conversation about slapping my friends around." Once the aspirin pills are swallowed, she reaches out to clasp her hands and give comfort through it. "I want to know what happened, but I won't press it, for now."

No, Portia wants to get it out. Her hands are clasped, there's a breath, and the girl looks like she's going to cry. A few more breaths are taken, and then she speaks. "I was just trying to see what was going on. Guy was in the park. Did something really suspicious.. all I was trying to do was get some intel.. something useful.. he made a drop. A note for someone. Read it. Went to follow him to see if I could get a good look at who he was. I was being careful. Invisible and everything and then my phone goes off. He freaks out. He doesn't even see me but he's got a gun. Everything's crazy.. I go to run one way, but then he's disappeared somehow, and I can't see him, don't know where he is.. he's somewhere I can't see.. so I'm looking to see where he is so that he doesn't shoot me, and then he figures out where I am. So I try to run, and he moves the wrong way and I run right into him, so he grabs me, and I can't focus and then I'm visible and.. then there's the part where he's got his gun on my head and tries to ask me questions and every time he doesn't like how I answer he just slams my head into the ground.. over and over.. and so I tell him my name and where I live and then he says he'll kill me if I tell anyone, and he just /leaves/ me there." There's another deep breath, but the tears are welling up. "He was going to fucking shoot me in the head."

There aren't any questions asked, Jane just listens as Portia lets it out and tells what happened. Her eyes darken, the rage starting to show more and more as the description of being almost shot and having her head slammed into the ground goes on. That conversation she spoke of having, it definitely won't be a pleasant one.

And when she falls silent, she'll find Jane with open arms offering the comfort of a tight hug, one which shows her own relief the younger one isn't dead without a word being spoken.

That's when the tears start falling, and Portia moves in to hug the older one as she tries hard not to cry. She's supposed to be tough, grown up now. But there's something to be said about a hug. And she doesn't have her mother to hold her and make it all better, so she's completely fine with the next best thing. "D-Don't leave me alone." The girl mumbles, half-coherently into Jane's shoulder.

"I won't leave you alone," she replies softly, starting to rock a little with the sobbing Portia leaning on her. Left alone. It's a thing that sticks with her, through all she's experienced; having gone through cold turkey on her own. It drives a large part of how Jane reacts to people in distress, the memory of enduring that and not wanting anyone close to her to have to suffer the same or similar. Time will pass, the contact kept as long as the younger one wants it.

Portia lingers there for a long time, grateful for the contact before she pulls back, glancing back to Jane with a small nod. Tears are wiped away, carefully, letting out a breath. "Head is a tiny bit better.." She murmurs. "Not as dizzy or anything. I should probably try and clean up.."

"There's a few supplies in the bathroom," Jane offers as she releases and steps away. "I'll want to talk about what the note said and what he looked like, some of the details, whenever you're ready. Clean up, and we can see about getting you looked at, Portia," she suggests in a soft voice. "Now is not that time, I don't think." Even through the anger she feels, compassion rules the moment.

A tiny nod. "Yeah. I'll tell you everything.." Portia reaches one hand up to feel at the side of her head. "Not the time.." She agrees. "Don't think I like guns much." She murmurs, mostly to herself as she heads off to the bathroom.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License