St. John has never met Madeline before; he remembers seeing her in here with Pietro once, but he tends to avoid Pietro so he doesn't blurt out things like 'SO, your dad, still a megalomaniacal bastard? How's he doing? Huh, I'd just about give my eyeteeth for his approval. Yes, still! Funny, isn't it?'
Anyway. The point is even if she weren't a bloody wreck he wouldn't recognize her, although he might be gaping less, perhaps, if she were just some pretty, tired-looking woman and not one who looks like she was an unpaid extra in Fargo, playing the part of the woodchipper's girlfriend.
So "......yeah?" is what Madeline gets as a wide pair of grey eyes and Petrelli floppy brown bangs appear from below the bar. God knows what he was doing down there.
Haha, how funny that there would be anyone in the bar!
Apparently, that must be what Madeline's thinking, because she's laughing, softly as sandpaper, putting a hand over her mouth - or she's crying. She can't decide which one it is.
"Ah -" Madeline tries to straighten up, but her legs pick now of all times to give out on her, and the best she can manage is a controlled, slow slide to the floor. "Car. Outside. Please." That seems to be the best way to get what she needs across, and Madeline lets her head rest against the door, closing her eyes as her hand sinks back into her lap.
Adam's not much more familiar with Madeline than St. John is, but he remembers her, if only because she'd seemed so lost when he met her (how ironic, really, but Adam doesn't know that, nor does it really matter right now, not when she needs help so badly.)
He doesn't quite register what she's saying, exactly, and if he knew it was Gabriel outside in the car, he's...not quite sure what he'd do. Right now he'll try to focus on her, since she's here.
"Hey. Hey, it's, uh, it's okay, just take it easy, all right?" He fills a glass of water in the sink and kneels down next to her, shooting St. John a 'holy shit, man' look.
Oh, God, she has to open her eyes again? Madeline takes a slow, careful breath and looks up at Adam. For a second, she's wondering how Gabriel cleaned himself up so fast, but of course it's not Gabriel, it's Wanda's boyfriend, he lives here.
"Mm...Gabriel," she says, pressing herself up against the door a little, "I can't - I can't carry him anymore, I'm sorry. I can't. Could you just go and...please?" She reaches out, tentatively, and touches Adam's wrist before letting her hand fall back down.
That's not enough, she realizes, that could mean anything. She swallows, with visible effort, and pulls herself a little straighter. There. That wasn't so hard.
"There's a car." She pronounces every word very, very careful. "Outside. Gabriel's in it. Someone please get him." I am kneeling on the floor of your bar, oh Lord, and I can't see half of what's in front of me because there are black spots stuck to my eyes.
Gabriel listened to her words, but doesn't react- they just don't register. He hears the car door shut, the shuffling noises outside while Madeline makes her way to Dante's. She'll find the help she needs there. He doesn't feel like moving, so he just...doesn't.
The help she needs, unfortunately, comes partly in the form of a tall scowling CTU agent, who is hovering by Gabriel's window with tightly folded arms.
Jesus, he looks like hell.
Adam is just going to try his very, very best to be the bigger person here and not say anything horrible. No matter how badly he wants to.
He's covered in blood, the same as Madeline, although various streaks are stronger than others, and it's still wet around his forehead somehow.
Adam's torso crosses his vision and doesn't move out of it. It takes a few seconds for Gabriel to look up. Oh, of course Adam's the first one he sees in town. He groans and pulls himself away from the glass, leaning back on the seat. He suspects Adam will want to open the door in order to taunt him properly.
LOOK, he's being COMPLETELY CIVIL. He didn't even add his customary 'asshole' to the end of that. Clearly he deserves a gold star.
It does help that he's actually worried, though. Not worried for Gabriel's sake, but the last time he saw anyone or anything covered in that much blood...
...no, nobody could be stupid enough to have willingly gone to Antinora. It's not possible. Not after Adam and Wanda...uh...completely failed to tell anyone else about...
Madeline follows Nica tentatively, glancing back at Gabriel outside until she couldn't see the door anymore. As soon as she can't see him her heartbeat speeds up, mouth going dry, but she's doesn't make a sound beyond the occasional whimper that escapes. Walking hurts like everything else does.
She doesn't say anything to Nica. She can barely look at Nica. She just goes where she's led.
Nica isn't unaware of Madeline's reaction to all of this -- the physical aspect, at least, is like a siren in the back of her mind. She doesn't see a lot of other options, though, so she's just going to roll with it for now, and hope like hell she doesn't make whatever happened any worse.
Part of her, an ugly part she'd tried to forget about when she came here, is angling to do serious damage to whatever did this to the older woman.
"Here we go." She says it quietly, turning the shower on -- not too hot, not too cold. "Just put your clothes over here and I'll take care of them later. You have to tell me if you need me not to touch you, okay, Madeline? There are other ways I can help you. I can--heal. But I need to be in here to do it. Just tell me if I'm too close." This is more than she usually says, but Nica reacts to things differently in certain circumstance.
Madeline bends over to take off her shoes, left, right, socks, right, left. Is that a palindrome, in a way? She's not sure if it'd qualify. She starts listing things in the room as she straightens up.
One (1) Madeline Yi, second hand
One (1) Nica, small and pretty
One (1) corner for clothes, empty
One (1) shower, unoccupied but functioning
God knows how many (too many) drops of water
Zero (0) movements to take off her shirt
It's the logical progression. She should be able to. She takes her shirts off every day. Everyone does. Why would it matter that anyone else was here when that's not what this is?
Madeline's hands have made it all the way to the hem of her shirt, and she's staring at them in a mildly confused, distant way, like she has no idea how they could've ended up there, of all places.
They're shaking. So is the rest of her, in little fits and starts.
Nica hesitates for a few moments, and then comes closer -- a little less than an arm's length away. "Let me help you," she says, softly, and as her hands connect with Madeline's, the shaking begins to ease, just enough that Nica can actually start getting her clothes off.
"I'm not going to get in there with you, or anything," she says, steadily, because one of them needs to be steady and Nica isn't about to let her frustration out on Madeline. "Hey--one second, okay?" she rests her palm on Madeline's shoulder, and the sprain in it eases and is gone. "Here we go. That'll make it easier."
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Anyway. The point is even if she weren't a bloody wreck he wouldn't recognize her, although he might be gaping less, perhaps, if she were just some pretty, tired-looking woman and not one who looks like she was an unpaid extra in Fargo, playing the part of the woodchipper's girlfriend.
So "......yeah?" is what Madeline gets as a wide pair of grey eyes and Petrelli floppy brown bangs appear from below the bar. God knows what he was doing down there.
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Apparently, that must be what Madeline's thinking, because she's laughing, softly as sandpaper, putting a hand over her mouth - or she's crying. She can't decide which one it is.
"Ah -" Madeline tries to straighten up, but her legs pick now of all times to give out on her, and the best she can manage is a controlled, slow slide to the floor. "Car. Outside. Please." That seems to be the best way to get what she needs across, and Madeline lets her head rest against the door, closing her eyes as her hand sinks back into her lap.
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Adam's not much more familiar with Madeline than St. John is, but he remembers her, if only because she'd seemed so lost when he met her (how ironic, really, but Adam doesn't know that, nor does it really matter right now, not when she needs help so badly.)
He doesn't quite register what she's saying, exactly, and if he knew it was Gabriel outside in the car, he's...not quite sure what he'd do. Right now he'll try to focus on her, since she's here.
"Hey. Hey, it's, uh, it's okay, just take it easy, all right?" He fills a glass of water in the sink and kneels down next to her, shooting St. John a 'holy shit, man' look.
"What about a car?"
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"Mm...Gabriel," she says, pressing herself up against the door a little, "I can't - I can't carry him anymore, I'm sorry. I can't. Could you just go and...please?" She reaches out, tentatively, and touches Adam's wrist before letting her hand fall back down.
That's not enough, she realizes, that could mean anything. She swallows, with visible effort, and pulls herself a little straighter. There. That wasn't so hard.
"There's a car." She pronounces every word very, very careful. "Outside. Gabriel's in it. Someone please get him." I am kneeling on the floor of your bar, oh Lord, and I can't see half of what's in front of me because there are black spots stuck to my eyes.
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Jesus, he looks like hell.
Adam is just going to try his very, very best to be the bigger person here and not say anything horrible. No matter how badly he wants to.
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Adam's torso crosses his vision and doesn't move out of it. It takes a few seconds for Gabriel to look up. Oh, of course Adam's the first one he sees in town. He groans and pulls himself away from the glass, leaning back on the seat. He suspects Adam will want to open the door in order to taunt him properly.
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LOOK, he's being COMPLETELY CIVIL. He didn't even add his customary 'asshole' to the end of that. Clearly he deserves a gold star.
It does help that he's actually worried, though. Not worried for Gabriel's sake, but the last time he saw anyone or anything covered in that much blood...
...no, nobody could be stupid enough to have willingly gone to Antinora. It's not possible. Not after Adam and Wanda...uh...completely failed to tell anyone else about...
Well, fuck.
"You didn't--go there, did you?"
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She doesn't say anything to Nica. She can barely look at Nica. She just goes where she's led.
Reply
Part of her, an ugly part she'd tried to forget about when she came here, is angling to do serious damage to whatever did this to the older woman.
"Here we go." She says it quietly, turning the shower on -- not too hot, not too cold. "Just put your clothes over here and I'll take care of them later. You have to tell me if you need me not to touch you, okay, Madeline? There are other ways I can help you. I can--heal. But I need to be in here to do it. Just tell me if I'm too close." This is more than she usually says, but Nica reacts to things differently in certain circumstance.
Reply
One (1) Madeline Yi, second hand
One (1) Nica, small and pretty
One (1) corner for clothes, empty
One (1) shower, unoccupied but functioning
God knows how many (too many) drops of water
Zero (0) movements to take off her shirt
It's the logical progression. She should be able to. She takes her shirts off every day. Everyone does. Why would it matter that anyone else was here when that's not what this is?
Madeline's hands have made it all the way to the hem of her shirt, and she's staring at them in a mildly confused, distant way, like she has no idea how they could've ended up there, of all places.
They're shaking. So is the rest of her, in little fits and starts.
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"I'm not going to get in there with you, or anything," she says, steadily, because one of them needs to be steady and Nica isn't about to let her frustration out on Madeline. "Hey--one second, okay?" she rests her palm on Madeline's shoulder, and the sprain in it eases and is gone. "Here we go. That'll make it easier."
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