bprd_agent_red: (left with thoughts)
bprd_agent_red ([personal profile] bprd_agent_red) wrote2012-11-02 09:47 am
Entry tags:

Milliways - Room 4204

Spending a night and day in the infirmary, Hellboy was over the sterile environment, too small bed, and antiseptic smells of the hospital room, and well enough to make the trip upstairs to the room he and Liz share, and so they went up and settled in there for rest and recovery.

Mostly rest.

After making it to the cluttered room and sprawling out on the over-sized mattress, Red closed his eyes and slept on through the next day. Stirring rarely, sometimes moving or mumbling, but otherwise dead to the world.

Now, as evening breaks into night and Liz dozes, Red's side of the bed is empty.

The door to the bathroom is cracked, and from inside comes the hushed sounds of steady sawing.
walking_napalm: (you really think?)

[personal profile] walking_napalm 2012-11-02 06:34 pm (UTC)(link)
Liz had thought it might be hard to sleep in the room where she spent the last week suffering nightmares while trapped in Milliways and, to coin a phrase, paranoid as fuck, but it turns out that when you're exhausted enough, you can sleep anywhere.

She rolls over -- and her arm flops across the mattress. She blinks and lifts her head. There's a half second of sleepy confusion before she recognizes the sound coming from the bathroom, and registers that there's a crack of light under the door. She sits up, scrubbing at her face. According to the watch that she never bothered to take off, she's been half-asleep again for an hour or two.

She glances toward the bathroom again.

Liz knocks lightly before pushing the door open. Red has one horn off already and is working on the next one. She leans in the doorway.
walking_napalm: (ffs!)

[personal profile] walking_napalm 2012-11-02 07:55 pm (UTC)(link)
She shakes her head. "You didn't," she says, padding into the bathroom. She splays a warm hand in the small of his back and leans against his left side, looking at him in the mirror. They make quite a pair. Liz's hair is even more of a rats' nest than it felt like. "You look--" (terrible, but) "better."
walking_napalm: (red - best not mess)

[personal profile] walking_napalm 2012-11-02 08:58 pm (UTC)(link)
"Bet I could talk a rat into bringing something up here," she murmurs, letting her head rest against his chest and then tilting her chin to look up at him.
walking_napalm: (liv tyler face)

[personal profile] walking_napalm 2012-11-02 11:33 pm (UTC)(link)
"I don't know," she says, soft; "not completely." She cups his jaw in her hand, thumb gentle at the corner of his mouth. "Lemme put in an order and then we'll talk about it, okay?"
walking_napalm: (not sure about this)

[personal profile] walking_napalm 2012-11-03 01:29 am (UTC)(link)
While Red was coat-hunting, Liz dug up a sweater and a pair of pants, and went downstairs in search of a rat. It's a quick trip; she's back just in time to hear the comment.

"I don't know anything about how you got hurt," she says, and then she steps all the way inside and closes the door behind herself. She kicks off her unlaced boots, and, on her way to the bed, grabs the notebook and folder that she'd left on the dresser yesterday.
walking_napalm: (red - sitting)

[personal profile] walking_napalm 2012-11-03 02:55 am (UTC)(link)
"Crossbow bolt," she says, sitting down beside him and tucking one leg up under herself.

She looks up. "I think -- maybe it's better if I start from the beginning."
walking_napalm: (you just don't listen)

[personal profile] walking_napalm 2012-11-03 03:28 am (UTC)(link)
"There was something haunting the bar; I guess they think it was called Slenderman. It's big on the internet in somebody's world, which is where this," she flaps the folder and then puts it down again, on the bed behind them, "came from.

"It caused the fog and it made people get paranoid and sick. It fed off the fear," she says, low and matter-of-fact. She reaches over and rests her hand in the crook of his elbow, just above where stone meets skin. She inhales. "What's the last thing you remember?"
walking_napalm: (expressionless)

[personal profile] walking_napalm 2012-11-03 03:46 am (UTC)(link)
"Nightmares," she says quietly. "It caused those, too, and all the symbols."
walking_napalm: (listening)

[personal profile] walking_napalm 2012-11-03 04:11 am (UTC)(link)
"You were missing for four days," Liz says, and it's actually easier when he's not looking at her. She has to tell him, she knows she has to tell him; she clenches her other hand tighter in the sheets under her knee. "So I went outside and I found you.

walking_napalm: (try not to smile)

[personal profile] walking_napalm 2012-11-03 04:35 am (UTC)(link)
-- She shakes her head, swift and vehement, and rises up onto her knees to put herself closer to eye-level. She rests both hands on the tops of his shoulders, ignoring the throb the motion starts in her own shoulder.

"Nothing happened," she tells him. "I blasted you back into the trees." One side of her mouth makes an almost-imperceptible tilt upward. "Sorry."
Edited 2012-11-03 04:40 (UTC)
walking_napalm: (ffs!)

[personal profile] walking_napalm 2012-11-03 05:15 am (UTC)(link)
She's shaking her head again, fiercely, before he has even finished saying her name. "No," she says, "no, Red-- That wasn't you." She cups his jaw in both hands. "This Slenderman thing was possessing people. It's not you."
walking_napalm: (you just don't listen)

[personal profile] walking_napalm 2012-11-03 05:47 am (UTC)(link)
"I don't know," she says. "I don't know how it did it."

She spent two feverish days digging through books in the library, trying to find anything that would shed light on that exact question.

She draws in a breath, letting her hands drift back down to his shoulders. "The doctor said he had a couple cases the other night where people were waking up, hurt, with amnesia, and other patients were saying they'd kidnapped or attacked them." Watching him: "It sounded like possession."
Edited 2012-11-03 05:53 (UTC)
walking_napalm: (that's not good)

[personal profile] walking_napalm 2012-11-03 06:55 am (UTC)(link)
She sinks back down to sit on her feet again. "I tried to go get Abe, but the door was gone, so I stayed here for -- god, I don't know, almost another week? I couldn't find you again."

Calling that figure 'you' doesn't seem right; it wasn't Red.

Liz scrubs her free hand over her face, and decides: screw it, she's going to get through the rest of her part of this now. "A couple of us investigated. There was a hospital, by the lake -- it looked a lot like the abandoned ones out on Roosevelt Island." She glances up at him again. "We went in, we got separated, I disarmed a guy with a crossbow, and I pulled out the psychic he had strapped to a bed.

"The hospital disappeared while we were outside, and," her mouth twists faintly upward; apologetic, for all the questions she can't answer, "there you were."
Edited 2012-11-03 06:57 (UTC)
walking_napalm: (ffs!)

[personal profile] walking_napalm 2012-11-03 08:13 am (UTC)(link)
"Enzo said they did," she says, and she's quiet for a second, watching him.

"Abe could probably tell you. If you wanted him to."
walking_napalm: (red - close)

[personal profile] walking_napalm 2012-11-04 02:09 am (UTC)(link)
"Looks like it," she says, shuffling in closer and sliding a hand up under his arm to rest on the back of his shoulder.

She lifts her face. "Hey."
walking_napalm: (liv tyler face)

[personal profile] walking_napalm 2012-11-04 04:13 am (UTC)(link)
"Whatever you want to do -- figure it out, not figure it out--- It's okay."

It's not 'okay'; nothing about any of this is okay. But this specific call is his to make and she's going to do whatever she can to support it, even if it does mean breaking a promise she'd made to herself.
walking_napalm: (worried about you)

[personal profile] walking_napalm 2012-11-04 04:51 am (UTC)(link)
Her mouth opens and closes once.

"I don't know," she admits, slowly, with a small shake of her head. "I haven't talked to anybody who saw you."

She doesn't know what he (what not-him) did.
Edited 2012-11-04 04:54 (UTC)
walking_napalm: (really upset)

[personal profile] walking_napalm 2012-11-04 05:42 am (UTC)(link)
"I know," she says, immediate and fierce, lifting her hand to his face. "So maybe -- maybe we'll have to tell people that."

What would she do if she were put face-to-face with the man who shot her, and was told he'd been possessed?

Feel sympathy, probably, Liz thinks. But then again, she has a lifetime of experience when it comes to her body reacting beyond her control. Can she take herself as a reliable barometer?
walking_napalm: (you just don't listen)

[personal profile] walking_napalm 2012-11-05 02:00 am (UTC)(link)
She shakes her head. "There were at least a couple people."
walking_napalm: (looking up)

[personal profile] walking_napalm 2012-11-06 07:49 pm (UTC)(link)
She smiles with one corner of her mouth. Looking up: "Yeah."
Edited 2012-11-06 19:50 (UTC)
walking_napalm: (oh you)

[personal profile] walking_napalm 2012-11-08 02:53 am (UTC)(link)
The other side of her mouth tips up, too.

"What do you say we go track down that rat?" she asks.
Edited 2012-11-08 02:53 (UTC)
walking_napalm: (little smile)

[personal profile] walking_napalm 2012-11-09 07:51 am (UTC)(link)
She leverages herself off his shoulder when she gets up; runs her hand down his arm and flashes him a quick, tiny smile before turning away to find where she kicked her boots.

The last week and a half has been fraught and frightening, even by the standards that Liz's life generally sets, and there are still way too many unanswered sobering questions looming for her to feel precisely relaxed, but -- they're here. They're walking and talking. They can go home. Right now, that's enough for Liz.

She shoves her feet into her boots and glances to Red. "Ready?" she asks.