(2016-08-03) The Day After
The Day After
Summary: Quinton wakes up in the infirmary and gets an ear full of information from Piper that leaves him reeling.
Date: 8.3.2016
Related: Related Logs (Say None if there aren't any; don't leave blank. You have to use full URLs, like http://mushname.wikidot.com/logtitle)
Players:
pied-piper..quinton..

Perhaps having one's brain scrambled over and over again makes one tired. Quinton's slept long, although he's all twisted up from fighting something while he slept. Nightmares, Silencers? Nightmare Silencers? Whatever it is, it ends with a whimper, not a bang. Pale eyes flutter open with a low whimper, no fists are throw….yet. To be honest he's not even aware of where he is just yet.

It's been a long and emotional roller coaster the last 24+ hours, for everyone. After another breakdown, the first of many probably, Piper passed out again and it was easier for the doctor to put her in the room with the Welles siblings than carry her across the hall to her apartment. So there she is, sleeping a bit fitfully herself, the sweater she was clinging to, most likely a familiar one, now held loosely in sleep. And of course Kayla is in the other bed, probably in a drug induced sleep thanks to the blow she took to the head.

Quinton swallow, eyes focusing on the wall. That's…not a cabin wall. He frowns, shakily pushing himself up to a sitting position on the bed. The room disagrees with his decision and spins, making the poet grip the side of the bed to not fall over. He can't get out of here if he's falling over. His mind races, trying to piece together what happened, they were followed? Chased down? Was Devon right, there were people after him? His stomach rolls and he clenches his eyes, and jaw, to try to make it pass. He remembers a gun shot, and there's no new holes in him, so… He needs to get out of here before there is. Devon needs him.

Being a fitful sleep it is also a light one, so the commotion is enough to wake up the tiny woman. She has woken up enough times in this room that she isn't all that disoriented by it, just a bit confused as to how she ended up here. Her confusion passes quickly as she sees Quinton struggling to get up in panicked fashion and his body somewhat rebel against it. "Quinton.." her voice is horse from all the crying she has been doing, her eyes still bloodshot and a bit swollen "It's okay." she pushes herself upright, trying to remain calm and not slip into blubber mode again, but she is certainly on the precipice there.

Quinton freezes at the voice. His name. This is like some horror movie. His gaze darts from Piper to the door, and then around the room. He's never had the best poker face, he's trying to decide how to get out, looking for an escape route. His body is tense, he's clearly scared and freaked out. " Please, just…let me go." Always try pleading first, right? The sleeping form of Kayla is turned away, so it's just a sleeping body, not someone who looks creepily like his sister.

Piper looks down at the sweater in her hands, she can bear to see him look at her that way. With no recognition, as if he were looking at a stranger "This is home." it's audible, even if it is a horse whisper "Here." she holds the sweater out to him, "They made you feel better." do they still? She doesn't know. Was that taken along with his memories? Either way, it is his. All she knows is that he didn't have one on when he left and she doubts Devon had any around. "I'm sorry." she looks down again to hide the tears forming and she shakes her head. Is she saying that about not letting him go or for some other reason.

The gesture, the movement, of Piper holding out the sweater has Quinton cringing slightly and pulling back an inch from his seated position. "There is no home anymore. They took that from us." He doesn't sound like Quinton , with the full sentences and the hollow voice. And that hair! So short! Pale eyes look at the sweater and there's a flicker in them, but he doesn't reach out for it. There's too much potential danger here. Taking the apology for something it's not, "Look…you can help me. I don't even need a vehicle, just help me get out of here. You don't have to be sorry."

It's weird seeing him like this, exhibiting some of the same flinchy behavior that she used to show so frequently. Folding the sweater up she slides off her bed and slowly moves to place it at the end of his bed. No threatening moves from her, but with as tiny as she is threatening isn't the first thing that usually comes to mind when looking at her, for most at least. She then retreats to her own bed, visibly shaking now. So many urges to control for the woman. "You don't…" she is stammering like she always did, "He took them, Erased… memories like words from a page."

Quinton's eyes rest on her now, watching to see what she's doing. When it's just the sweater, and she retreats he relaxes a touch and swallows nervously. "No, he helped me. I was broken" His head shakes, "I couldn't even talk, he put me back together." The shaking is noticed and he frowns more, looking away. Deciding something, he slowly stands up, "I'm sorry…you're wrong. This isn't my home."

"Not broken. A mosaic." Piper never thought of him as broken, not in the way she was. And she has called him a mosaic before, a couple of times "Did he take the poetry from you too?" she could stop him if she wanted but she doesn't want him to think of her as the enemy any more than he already does "I was. Not about that." than what was she wrong about. She doesn't stop him, the gigantic Bear in the hallway will see to that. She doesn't argue just watches him to see what he is going to do.

Quinton freezes again, that terrifying feeling when people know things they shouldn't about you. His eyes are a little wider, "How do you know about my poetry?" That seems to be a no then, Since Quin still knows about his poetry. He's not sure what she thinks she's wrong about but he turns towards the door, unconsciously reaching out and grabbing the sweater as he tries to leave. The poet stops dead at the door though. A very large bear of a man is in the hallway, with many, many weapons and Quin has none. Thin fingers tighten around the knit in his hand, panic starting to edge in.

"Over a year…" Piper answers "We've known each other." she doesn't go into specifics about how they knew each other exactly. How does one break the news that this stranger in front of them was something they were in a relationship with, "I know you." she even begins to list some of the things she does know, and not just where he is from, where he went to college, but about the guitar his dad left him, what he loved about Paris and that he has a birthmark in a spot that only those with intimate knowledge would know about. That could be a hint right there. And then back to the guitar "The guitar is here…in your apartment."

You don't break that news. Or, maybe you do with mentioning birthmarks. Either way, Quinton looks pale, his head is reeling and there's a tugging about certain things she's mentioned, but….that just can't be. His fingers dig into the sweater, between the stitches before he turns back to look at the tiny woman speaking to him. "I don't know you." There's a hint of pleading in his voice though, if he does, everything else is wrong in his head…again. The poet's face crunches up, not in tears, but emotional pain certainly. He stumble backwards into the door frame, trying to find something stable, solid, to lean on. It certainly isn't his memories.

"He took you from us, and us from you." there is a waiver on unchecked emotion in her tone and Piper has to take a deep breath and once more he gaze drops so she can gain control. The first part, well that part has been fixed. Now it is the other that she mourns. Not for her loss, but for his. Another breath. One of them has to be the calm one, and by damn it will be her! "Me, Kayla.." a glance goes to where his sister lays sleeping "even Quinn and the children." she would guess, why not them too, everyone important to him. When he stumbles it is second nature to her to go to catch him and she starts to, all the feels, grief, worry and the sappy ones too, she can't hide them all, marring her beautiful features.

Quinton's breath catches at Kayla's name, and he looks over to the sleeping form. Panic, scared, he's been all of these, but that sleeping form suddenly has tears forming in his eyes, "Noooo…." it's a low cry, nothing that should wake whoever that is, because surely it couldn't be Kayla! "I buried her…" He remembers that! The sheet, the dirt! Quinton doesn't even register Quinn and the other children, that will be difficult enough to process without a ghost sister. "I buried them all…" His legs give out and he slides down the doorframe, eyes closed.

Piper crouches down, her fingers flexing, the urge to touch and comfort strong. She does put a hand on his foot, most likely bare like hers, ya don't sleep with shoes on an all…well she doesn't do anything with shoes on. "Not her." her glance goes to Kayla quickly and then back to him. She can't say all, she doesn't know who /all/ is. "He wanted you thinking that." after her talk in the early morning hours she gets it now. She doesn't like it, hates it and the Silencer that did this, but she gets it. Desperation makes a person do things, bad and crazy things. "That's Kayla, your sister." for some reason she hasn't given him her name, even if that seems like it would be the first thing most would do in this case.

Quinton's trembling and he falls back on instinct. The sweater is pulled to his face and he muffles a sob into it. Why would anyone, why would a friend want him to believe his sister was dead? That's crazy talk. The poet can't bear to go look at her, fear it's not her, fear it is her…. It's only a few sobs, but he stays that way, the sweater pressed to his face, Piper's hand on his foot. His mind races, not able to grasp a solid thought beyond the flight response he's been fighting since he woke up.

Well that's a question she knows the answer to and though he didn't ask their contact might allow her to feel it. Her mental abilities aren't as powerful as Devon's were, she isn't even half the silencer he was, but she is keeping those channels open, looking for anything that will help the cause. There is so little to work with. At least there is Kayla to hook into. "Three weeks ago…he took you…" and then she tells him what happened, it's even like she was there. Even if she wasn't touching him, if he actually looked at her, he would see it. "I'm sorry." she tells him again, for not finding him sooner and all he had to go through and the year and half that has been lost.

Not that he's eaten anything recently, but Quin is now fighting the flight reaction //and the urge to throw up. "No.." His voice is muffled, he's not looked hop from the sweater. It's like it's the only thing that's keeping him form completely losing it. "Devon wouldn't do that. You're wrong." With the distortion to his voice it's hard to tell if there's anything underlying there, or if he believes that whole heartedly. When she apologizes again he'll ask, again, although he has little hope, "Please let me go…"

"Where? Back to Camp Hope?" is that how Devon referred to it she wonders. And how did he explain all the remnants of the group that lived there? Did he find the makeshift cemetery of all those they lost, or were they part of the all he buried? "We meet there. Ate in the dining hall, fished at the river, played music under the stars." all these memories she has of them. Could she replace them or would doing that be just as bad as taking them? Conundrums… "Not today." she tells him "You have to talk to her." she looks to Kayla. She probably would let him go if it was up to her…she would follow of course, with at least Quinn, Troy and Becca.

It's how the signs referred to it. Quin's breathing through his mouth, trying to not get sick. It's all just too much to process, too much to clash in his head. When she says no, he pulls his legs up against his body, his foot away from her. It's too familiar of a touch, and it's unsettling. "It's not her." If it was, it means he buried her alive? It means he's crazy? Devon's a monster? If that's true…then everything is just…wrong.

When he retreats she backs away as well. It is a lot she just dumped on him. It probably would have been better to spread it out more, but Piper realized quickly he was a flight risk and wanted to get as much out as she could. For all she knows he won't be here tomorrow. It wouldn't be the first time he snuck out of first aid and away…though usually it is just to go back to his apartment "Try telling her that." they both know Kayla is stubborn, even more so than him at times, and her tone suggests that. "Need anything?" besides his freedom "Clothes. Books." she will definitely bring more sweaters and the knitted afghan he likes, it's hers technically but she will bring it.

Oh…no. He has no desire to speak to a mirror of his sister. He thinks he's going crazy now? The poet's head turns away from Piper and the Not-Kayla. "No." Just his freedom. And for the room to stop spinning. And food. But he won't ask for that. "I don't want to be in here with her." That would be better. Better for him, anyway. The jeans he came in with are his, boots too. But not the shirt, that's something Piper's never seen before.

As if he is going to get a choice in that matter. What Kayla wants, Kayla usually gets. "Okay." Piper will concede to him not wanting to be in the same room with his sister "We can put you in the other room." she gets to her feet, offering a hand to help him up, another second nature thing, but withdraws it, unless he actually does take it. Either way she gestures out and once he is on his feet will lead with to the other patient room, which is pretty much exactly like the one he was just in, sans the unconscious sister.

A low, barely audible sigh of relief before the poet rubs his face slightly on the sweater before blinking. Why is he holding a sweater? Piper’s hand is glanced at, but he uses the doorframe to stand. Before leaving the room he will take the few steps over to the bed where he was at and nabs his boots that are at the end. He wants to have his shoes…just in case. They're cradled in his arms, along with the mystery sweater and he follows Piper into the emptier room. He takes a deeper breath, like Kayla's presence was making it hard to get air. He eyes the hallway and what he can see of the apartment and what Bear has on him. Again, he has a terrible poker face. He needs to know what to dodge. It takes him a moment, but he then quietly offers, "Thank you."

Piper expected that and she has a bit better poker face than he does, but not by much, and tries not to let it show how the brush off effects her. With the emotional strain she has been under she fails terribly. She glances to Bear when he does, not mentioning that there is another guard out in the apartment hallway…and then the ones in the Complex and then on the walls…so many guards all warned not to let Quinton past. Poor Quinton! She nods at his thanks "Of course." she sighs and it does sound sad and forlorn "I'll bring you clothes." his clothes even! "And dinner soon." she can see he needs breathing room and to process…and she needs to go cry it out. As she leaves she glances back at him, but her mane of wild curly hair hides whatever expression she has.

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