4.0 Dedicated to its Members and Fans of Pokemon A Pokemon Sandbox RP
Pokémon Dubstep (ft. Lindsey Stirling)
W
elcome Adventurer to EPOCH! A Pokemon Sandbox Rp set in the original region of Nue. Everything you need to know will be in the Guidebook and PokeDex 101!
EPOCH uses the Manga and is built on the Original ideas suggested by our members.
We are more than just a Pokemon RP, we're a friendly community with a goal on being a memorable experience for those that look in.
Golden Rule: Treat others as you wish to be treated. If you find yourself content with being an asshole EPOCH and its members will not tolerate you.
RULES
Understand We're All Human. Respect the staffers as well as your fellow members and guests. We all have flaws, tempers and quirks. Be patient with one another, but if issues involving other members come up please don’t just grin and bear it. Contact a staff member, informing them of what's going on so they can address and resolve the situation. The staff won't know what's bothering you unless you tell them.
EPOCH is PG-13. Proboards’ Terms of Service:
Sex; When you get under the clothes, fade to black.
Violence; Do not go into extreme nauseating detail.
Cursing; This is so fucking allowed, but don't go overboard.
Suggestive Content; In avatars, signatures and templates can attract the wrong kind of attention. So be careful.
Post by Lucas Courtwater on Sept 14, 2013 23:38:31 GMT -5
keep your secrets
Four hours, 42 minutes since the last round, and they were starting to get farther apart. He might get another few hours, at this rate. Hell, he might have the rest of the night . . . Hard to say. At least it seemed like It might be getting just as drained as he was, if the intervals were any indication. All he had to do was withstand the pain - causing it had to be a different story, right? Especially assuming It was far away . . . there was no way It could keep up a consistent attack. It had to rest.
Right?
Alone in the hospital room, Lucas sighed. He could still feel It out there, somewhere. Just barely - like the tug of a thread on his psyche.
It had been hours, sure, since the last hit, but his head still throbbed, feeling like a boulder on his shoulders even while resting back on the pillows. Whenever he tried to sit up, an invisible hand seemed to slam down out of nowhere and drive into his forehead. Not that sitting up was a good idea in the first place - the doctors had him hooked up to machines he couldn't begin to guess the purpose of.
He had been told to sleep. The standard line about needing rest to get better - but he had reached that point where he was simply too exhausted, too restless, to even try. And sleep just seemed like letting his guard down - better to crash later, fall into a deeper level of unconsciousness. No dreams, then. And another round of headaches would wake him, anyway.
At least they had left him alone for now. Once he realized the headaches were not exactly a medical problem, he stopped telling the doctors about them, and besides those, all he had was a patchwork of bruises on both arms from being restrained, and his mostly-healed stab wound was a bit inflamed from being ruptured. Nothing serious - and with nothing to treat there was no reason to hover around. The Interpol agents stayed out in the hall. They had the whole private ward on lockdown - no one in or out without Agent Brennan's OK. More like a temple than a hospital, with barely any sound besides the occasional cough or roaming footsteps.
The curtains were pulled tight. The only light in the room came from a horizontal light strip above the back of his bed, turned to the dimmest setting, and the constant worried glow of the monitors. He held his eyes open just barely, roving over the outlines of the furniture on the other side of the room. He wondered when his mother would be back.
At that moment, there was stirring outside the room. Footsteps, maybe a voice approaching. A chair squeaking against the tile.
Post by Jeremiah Burton on Sept 19, 2013 8:57:43 GMT -5
Lucas Courtwater 1,573
Not at the apartment, not in the hide out, no sign of him at the Courtwater Penthouse, manor, anywhere! Had he been kidnapped? No, Jerry would be the first person shoved in a chair to discuss that by none other than Lucas’s mother if that was the case. What if she was in on i—No, that’s crazy, you paranoid dumbass. But, if he wasn’t at home, or with family, where was he?! Jeremiah was driving himself mad with this question as he roamed Saffron City. Almost every night had gone by without much if any sleep, and usually a flawless parkour run was full of stumbles and falls. He was sore and exhausted, but he wasn’t allowing himself to crash, not yet. Things were going haywire in his mind, and it didn’t help that he was constantly forced to the edge of his seat when that relentlessly pulsing psychic wave within the city was still going.
After finally being forced to sit down for some well needed first aid after his rough couple of days, Jeremiah was out cold in an old rusty desk chair in one of the many hide outs he had acquired over time. A few members of The Campaign were careful to not wake up the live wire as they got to the task of wrapping his injuries up and looking him over for anything that needed a visit to the hospital. When they were done, one of the younger members dared to reach for Jeremiah’s eye patch, just to try and get a peek at what was underneath. But the lightest brush against the scarred skin led to snapping Jerry out of his slumber and back up right with a sharp gasp. The sudden revival of his co-leader made the curious boy stumble back, trip, and fall, earning some laughter before the group noticed Jeremiah’s face. He must have looked crazed with the looks the group gave him, but that wasn’t something he’d worry about.
Getting out of his seat, several of the older members tried to convince him to sit down, but kept their distance. He wasn’t listening, and with the look in his eye, no one wanted to get in his way. While the group was full of several people who were better fighters than Jerry, the rumors circulating around the streets about him was enough to make sure the others kept back when he was clearly in no mood for rough housing. Jeremiah was about to shove open the door to the hide away when it was already being pulled open from the other side. Forced to stop to avoid colliding with the other person, Jeremiah simply quirked a brow at them as the younger boy’s eyes lit up at the sight of Jerry. Quickly the boy scrambled out of his way, and as Jeremiah was about to walk off, the young boy shouted “I found Lucas!”
The door was suddenly shoved until it slammed with a CLANG against the wall as Jerry whirled around to the boy. Before he could demand the details, the boy was already rattling off the details on the location of Lucas Courtwater, including the information about the hospital and the Interpol agents there. Although, Jerry only stayed long enough to hear the name of the hospital before he was taking off, again. When he’d finally make it to the hospital, he immediately managed to make himself the center of attention. Bursting into the lobby the moment the automatic doors slide open, Jeremiah didn’t take this as a warning to slow his pace. With a full speed sprint across the lobby, he hadn’t anticipated the slick tile floors and wasn’t able to stop himself in time. Skidding across the tiles and slamming into the front desk, the nurses behind it were already up to their feet, anticipating the worst from the sight of the filthy street rat.
A few of them were already moving around to pick him back up, but Jerry was beating them to the point. With a swift shove, he was back upright, tense and seemingly ready to pounce at the first person who got close. Panting and ready to finally call it a day, he simply leveled a cold green eye with the woman standing across from him. “Lucas Courtwater, I need to see him” he breathed. What would follow would be the most irritating hour and a half Jeremiah would have the unfortunate pleasure of remembering. He was examined, interrogated, picked at and all of his previously done bandages were undone and redone with some stitches and rough cleaning. All he wanted was to know where his friend was, but no one was talking about that. For once, Jeremiah actually wished people stop giving a shit about him for five minutes just so he could get some answers. When he was finally going to going to commit a metaphorical “fuck it” and make another scene, an angel, with her halo held up by two horns, appeared before him. Ms. Regina Courtwater in to save the day and finally get him some Arceus damn answers.
What felt like forever would finally be over after another hour of interrogating, string pulling, and a very impatient woman knowing just how to get her way. The agents gave Jeremiah the all clear, and were about to give him some warnings about Lucas’s condition, but the young man was already careening his way down the hall. A few nurses and patients squealed and yelped as they moved out of Jeremiah’s way, in which he threw a careless apology back before the slick tiles once more betrayed him. BAM! Jeremiah slammed right into the door and was thrown off his feet, falling to the floor. Groaning and softly cursing the existence of slick surfaces, it would be then that Jeremiah would open his eye to look to the side and see he hadn’t even collided with the right door. The agents by the door he actually wanted to go through just stared, one daring to even laugh at the excited young man’s fumble. Choosing to bite his tongue for once, Jeremiah shoved himself off the floor and calmly walked over to the door. The agent that had been laughing just moments before had finally stopped long enough to open the door for Jeremiah.
Once the door was opened, Jeremiah hadn’t anticipated it to be so dark, but he was already inwardly celebrating his findings. “LU--!” he shouted, before a hand slapped over his mouth. Jeremiah turned an enraged glare to the man whose hand was over his mouth, only to meet a clearly unimpressed gaze. The door was shut for a moment as Jeremiah was forced through a lecture of being quiet and controlling himself. The agent that had been laughing before was now snickering as his partner went over the details of Lucas’s condition. After a few minutes, the door was finally opened and Jerry was allowed inside. Giving an irritated snort over his shoulder, the door was softly shut and Jeremiah was left to carry on his reunion. Looking up at Lucas, rolling his shoulders and letting the previous lecture go mostly ignored and forgotten, Jeremiah prepared to gun it to Lucas’s side, but it was then he finally gathered the sight of his friend.
The dark room was only illuminated by the soft glow of the machines and Lucas’s overhead light. Not a sound other than breathing, fans, and beeps from the machines. It was chilling to see from another perspective, the last time he’d ever seen anything like this being when he was the one in the bed. Jeremiah was sobered up from the sight, and suddenly left standing there awkwardly, unsure how to approach. It was his job to make sure Lucas didn’t get hurt, especially not this bad, and he’d failed, clearly. Did he start off with an apology? Promising to do better? What did Lucas want to hear? His friend was the walking talking personification of happy-go-lucky, but this room was so dark and dreary… He didn’t need another thing to worry about; he needed a good laugh.
After a few seconds of awkwardly standing there, Jeremiah finally dared to start over, hooking his foot around the rolling chair and pulling it up. Dropping to sit and stopping perpendicular to Lucas’s shoulders, Jerry simply studied his friend for a moment, gave a grin, and dropped his head down on the bed. “You’d think you being you, you’d be easier to find, but you are one illusive bastard” he sighed into the mattress and sat up. Crossing his arms and resting them on the bed, Jeremiah leaned forward and gave the other one of his big ol’ grins. “Glad you got the place with all the hot nurses, though. I think the blonde at the front desk is totally into me” he joked, glancing over at one of the machines. So many buttons, so much temptation, but no, he resisted.
“What’s the verdict, condition, status report, how are you…?” he rambled for a moment to get across the point of wanting to know about Lucas’s current status. Was he doomed for death, just under the weather, broken bones? Jerry simply gazed back over at his friend and smiled warmly, ready for any kind of news. Granted, if this was to be Lucas’s death bed… Well, he’d rather not think about that for now.
Post by Lucas Courtwater on Sept 19, 2013 13:12:11 GMT -5
keep your secrets
Lucas watched the door open, anticipating from the response outside that it was either his mother or Agent Brennan - only to see Jerry's outline appear backlit in the doorway, and before he could brace himself he was already half-way up on one elbow, thinking, What - how - when did he -
"LU-"
And then the door closed again.
Lucas stared at the place where Jerry had been standing for a split-second before the headache caught up with him, and he fell back against the pillow. Already he was half-convinced that he had imagined the whole thing, and he closed his eyes to let his head settle again.
No . . . he probably didn't imagine it. But how had Jerry found him? How had he gotten up into the secure ward? Had his mother . . . ? Despite all the question, he was relieved. From the moment he had been conscious enough to string thoughts together, he had been worried about what the redhead was doing. Lucas wasn't sure if Jerry had seen him leave the fight, and he couldn't remember enough yet of what happened in the alley to know whether or not Jerry had known anything about it . . . Especially at the end, when Interpol had made their miracle appearance. Which meant that he had effectively fallen off the map. And Jerry . . . Jerry, Lucas, knew, would have been going non-stop to find him. He had asked his mother to try to contact him, but this was Saffron City they were talking about, and there was a lot of territory to cover.
The door opened again. Lucas opened his eyes, turning slightly to see Jerry standing there once again, the door fallings shut behind him. For a few moments, neither did anything.
He knew he had to tell Jerry everything. Especially the parts that he was going to leave out at the deposition with Agent Brennan in a few days. And he had spent the past 48 hours trying to put together the sequence of events in his head, and figure out just what exactly had happened after he went after Dorothy . . . and he had it just about straight now, with a few holes. The whole damn mess, laid out between facts and the only logical, horrible, conclusions he could draw. But he hadn't even begun to think about how he was going to tell his friend.
Jerry finally moved first, rolling a chair up to the bed and shooting him a grin that Lucas was too exhausted to remember to return. Jerry dropped his head down onto the mattress, and Lucas swallowed a bit, his mouth too dry, trying to work himself up into speaking condition.
“You’d think you being you, you’d be easier to find, but you are one illusive bastard.” A sigh, then he raised himself back up on his arms and grinned - one of his big Jerry grins that Lucas managed to weakly return. “Glad you got the place with all the hot nurses, though. I think the blonde at the front desk is totally into me.”
"Pffft." Into putting you in a straightjacket, maybe.
Another awkward moment. Then, “What’s the verdict, condition, status report, how are you . . . ?"
The question he had been dreading. Lucas thought for a moment, coughing and clearing his throat to stall. He wasn't ready to launch into it yet, even though he knew he had too. If not now, when - who knew how long they were going to let Jerry hang around, and then after that who knew when they would see each other again.
"Uh . . . The doctors say I should be fine," he started slowly. "Bruises . . . almost split my side open again, but they fixed it . . ." There was a phantom "but" at the end of that sentence that he knew was impossible to miss, but he kept talking - the scene had been chaos when he left it, and no one seemed to be holding back. Had Interpol showed up in time to stop any serious injuries? "What about everyone else? What about you?"
He definitely looked worse for wear - bandages here and there that looked professional enough that Lucas guessed those nurses Jerry had mentioned had given him a work-up before letting him up to the secure ward.
". . . and how did you find me - I mean, I'm glad you're here . . ." . . . but if Jerry tracked him down, then It could too, and then the only comfort was that Interpol had scared it off the first time - maybe It wouldn't come looking around again when they were still around. Or hopefully, his mom and just been able to find him and bring him over.
Post by Jeremiah Burton on Sept 20, 2013 16:48:24 GMT -5
Lucas Courtwater 825
While the sound of Lucas giving some ‘pfft’ in response to Jeremiah’s claim to have attracted some lovely lady would usually earn an annoyed gaze, today was an exception. Today, Lucas could probably hit Jeremiah right in the face and Jerry wouldn’t even question the act. The sound of Lucas’s doubt in the form of the scoff was relieving for the simple fact it meant the other still had his sense of humor at the least. He still had the ability to find things funny, and Jeremiah still had the ability to get a snicker from him, all of these were good signs. Jeremiah just had to keep the other’s spirits up to try and make it up to him.
Jeremiah’s big grin shrank slightly when silence was what immediately followed his question. Was it really that bad? Or maybe it just took a moment for Lucas to gather himself? While Jerry was typically the moron who ran in head first and didn’t seem to have a care in the world, his underlying paranoia was ever growing in this room. Interpol, Lucas under protection, and so on, Jeremiah didn’t like it. He anxiously waited for the response and started to relax once more when Lucas explained he’d be fine. A soft chuckle managed to escape the red head when Lucas mentioned his side was almost split open, again. “You need to be more careful, man…” he lightly teased, before hearing the questions concerning the gang.
Sighing and looking up briefly in thought, he gathered up what he recalled of the various check ins from the group leaders and others calling in to assure Jerry they were good to go. There had been some bumps, bruises, cuts, and the like, but he couldn’t think of anyone paying the ultimate price or paying a visit to the hospital like Lucas had to do. Looking back to Lucas and shrugging slightly, he answered “Nothing more than some scrapes and bruises, Lucas, everyone’s fine.” He pushed off the bed to slump back in his seat and cross his arms, eyeing the other.
There was a pause, before he recalled his friend’s question about his own condition. Jeremiah merely blinked a few times and looked himself over, softly counting under his breath. “1, 2, 3… 9, 10… 1, 2… 1, 2… 5, 6, 7…” he rambled for a moment, leaning to the side and looking back behind him. He finished up by patting both sides of his head, touching his ears, cheeks, and finally tapping himself on the nose. With a curt nod, Jeremiah turned a smug grin to his friend as he declared “All accounted for, sir. I’m good to go.” Despite the fact he was sure he’d crash the moment the second wind he got from finally finding Lucas wore off, there wasn’t any other huge issue other than an aching roughed up body Jerry had to deal with.
Now, how did he find him? Jeremiah’s grin shrank slightly at this question and he slowly looked off to the side. He was pissed at himself still for this. In all honesty, he wasn’t the one who had found Lucas. It was some little kid with a sick mother in the same hospital. “Cameron’s mother is in the floor above this one” Jeremiah grumbled, before looking back over at Lucas with a small smile. “Not sure who told him you were the one with the secret agents outside your door, but someone told him you were here and he came running to give me the news” he informed, part of him wishing he’d actually listened to all of that boy’s rambles before taking off. He should’ve told the kid to not tell anyone else, but it was too late for that, now. He was sure the kid would be smart enough to keep it to himself after spilling it to Jeremiah.
“I got here like… Three hours ago, I guess” he mumbled, glancing down to pull an old beat up phone from his pocket to check the time. “Yeah, three hours” he confirmed, before looking back up at Lucas. “Nurses thought I was hyped up on drugs or something, and when I was asking about you, some of your body guards joined us and I got to play a rousing game of twenty questions. You know me, I made it interesting to the point it got a uh… Certain someone’s attention” he paused, slowly deadpanning as he recalled Regina’s grand entrance into the crowded room. A couple of agents, a couple of guards, a few nurses, him on a bed in nothing but boxers as he was fixed back up... That was something he might look back and laugh at some day. “Your mom finally filled me in, pulled her magical strings, and wa-la, your favorite crook has found his way into your secret hide away, Mr. Courtwater” he summed up, fanning out his arms in a theatrical fashion.
Post by Lucas Courtwater on Sept 21, 2013 11:37:11 GMT -5
keep your secrets
He was relieved to hear everyone was fine, though he had mostly expected the news. From what he had gathered, Interpol had showed up not long after he left the fight - and besides, he recognized most of their ambushers as members of gangs from far out in the East Rows, or north of the Drag. Which essentially meant that they had been convenient hires with no actual connection to the conflict, and were on equal or worse footing in a fight compared to the group Lucas had brought that night, outnumbered or not.
Lucas watched with a slight smile as Jerry did his body inventory routine. He wasn't going to ask how many of those injuries had come from the fight, and how many from the last couple of days - and he had seen his friend in worse shape, anyway. The fact that Jerry was still up to his usual, humor-wise, was enough to tell that he hadn't gotten into too much trouble.
Jerry being there was working as a pretty good relaxing agent, and Lucas' mind was wandering down two tracks as Jerry answered all his questions. On one hand, he wanted to ask why Cameron's mother was there, and if she was alright, and why hadn't Cameron mentioned it - but he could ask about that later. On the other, he was trying to figure out where to start his own explanation - because there were at least three main points he needed to admit to, and none of them were going to go over well. He couldn't even find the words . . .
". . . Nurses thought I was hyped up on drugs or something, and when I was asking about you, some of your body guards joined us and I got to play a rousing game of twenty questions. You know me, I made it interesting to the point it got a uh . . .Certain someone’s attention . . ."
Lucas deadpanned slightly as well, imagining that display with what would turn out to be frightening accuracy - from the over-the-top outburst into the lobby to his mother arriving on scene. Not ten minutes after she had gotten to the hospital, she already had all the attending Interpol agents with their hair standing on end, so he could only imagine what Jerry showing up would do . . .
“Your mom finally filled me in, pulled her magical strings, and wa-la, your favorite crook has found his way into your secret hide away, Mr. Courtwater.”
"Bravo," he remarked dryly, smirking a bit. He was usually saved from seeing his mother's furious determination first-hand, but he knew from the after-effects that she was a force of nature when she wanted something.
But Lucas wondered just how filled-in Jerry actually was. Did he know about the coma? . . . Those first few headaches?
And then - and maybe as another subconscious effort to stall - he remembered.
"What about Irene?" he asked. His head was already swimming again, but he couldn't help lifting his head and shoulders slightly, trying to gain some leverage off his elbow. "Have you talked to her? Does she know anything about this?"
She had known something was happening that night - it would have been impossible to miss, the way everyone had been acting in the days leading up to it - but as usual they had made sure she didn't hear any details. But she would have known, definitely, that something big was going down - and now he had been gone for what, four days? Had Jerry even contacted her? Flashes from that night were coming back to him in waves, now, and an irrational voice in the clamor demanded to know if she was even safe.
He really couldn't afford to keep putting everything off.
"Jerry," he said weakly, sinking back onto the pillow, ". . . there's a lot I have to tell you."
---
And unbeknownst to the boys, they would go uninterrupted for however long they needed. A certain blonde Pokemon League Special Investigator had uprooted the Interpol guard from his post and set up shop next to the door - and if anyone short of the Special Agent in-charge tried to get within ten feet of the hospital room, they would be risking some severe mental scarring. At the very least.
Note: *has random headcanons about Saffron City downtown geography and the other gangs in their area* But essentially I was thinking The Campaign's main base of operations/Lucas and Co's general hangouts are all in the West Rows, and the West Rows gangs have this kind of friendly rivalry with the East Rows gangs (well, more like they have this amiable hate of each other, but usually end up teaming up against common enemies). And then The Drag is this main avenue between the two neighborhoods that has most of the seedier clubs and is more or less a straight shot to the red light district and the industrial district. *shrugs* *infodump*
Post by Jeremiah Burton on Sept 22, 2013 13:27:07 GMT -5
Lucas Courtwater 674
With that little ‘bravo’ from Lucas, Jeremiah gave a grin in response. He could tell it was dripping with sarcasm, but it still amused him at least. Despite being stuck in the hospital bed, nothing was really different about his friend. Or at least, as far as he was aware. It was the things he didn’t know that really unsettled Jerry. Mrs. Courtwater had told him that Lucas was in a short coma when they originally found him, but what had put him in the coma in the first place? Lucas’s mother had explained that there were things Lucas wouldn’t tell her, but she had full faith that the young blond would tell Jerry these hidden details. What had happened to Lucas after he ran off into that alleyway? Why couldn’t he tell his mother those parts of the story? Why had he gone over there in the first place? Jeremiah was dying to know, but he resisted pushing it for the simple fact he didn’t want to strain his friend.
Lounging back in his chair, Jerry was ready to try and ask a simple question. Or at least, he hoped the question would be simple. The answer might be more complicated, now that he thought about it. He was going to try and prompt the beginning of the explanation, though. ‘So, what happened?’ was probably the best signal for Lucas to talk. Before he could actually ask, though, Lucas was already starting to ask another set of questions of his own. Questions about none other than Irene, of couse, questions Jerry knew he should have seen coming a mile away. With a sigh and shrug, the young man’s head fell back to let his gaze rest on the ceiling. “She’s fine as far as I’m aware. I talked to her for a bit… Mostly just to figure out if you were with her at the time. She had heard about the fight, but she doesn’t really know anything more than that” he answered, tilting his head to look at the machines that were hooked up to Lucas.
Reaching over to simply slide his finger across one of the glowing screens, Jeremiah studied the strange numbers on it. Briefly in the back of his mind, he felt like he should have known what the numbers represented. The information seemed like it was from some forgotten lesson he lost over time. He wouldn’t doubt it was probably another thing he’d learned as his uncle’s lab rat, but it was nothing important. It wasn’t his job to read Lucas’s statistics and determine if the other was well or not. So, ignoring his brief curiosity, Jeremiah’s eyes drifted back over to Lucas. Crossing his arms once more, he watched as his friend sank back down to his bed. As he did, Lucas finally began his own confession without Jerry’s prompting. The words led to the red head’s grin to gradually shrink to a concerned gaze. He pushed aside his clownish ways to take on a more serious tone, knowing this was going to be a long story. The pause and stalling made it clear the information Lucas had to share was going to be some heavy material, but Jeremiah was the only one that would be trusted to know the whole story.
Setting his feet on the ground, Jerry carefully rotated himself and slid so he was right next to Lucas. His hip against the side of the bed, and now sitting parallel with Lucas’s laying position, Jeremiah situated himself in a means to now properly face Lucas so the other wouldn’t have to turn his head to look at him. Setting an elbow on Lucas’s bed and raising a hand to rest his bandaged cheek in it, the young man locked his gaze on his friend. “Well, I’ve got all the time in the world to hear you out” he assured, letting a brief smile form as he reached out to lightly poke at Lucas’s cheek. “Take your time, I’m listening” he assured, retracting his hand.
Post by Lucas Courtwater on Sept 22, 2013 14:06:23 GMT -5
keep your secrets
“She’s fine as far as I’m aware. I talked to her for a bit… Mostly just to figure out if you were with her at the time. She had heard about the fight, but she doesn’t really know anything more than that.”
Lucas sighed. So, he had spoken to her, at least. And she was safe . . . He wasn't anywhere near ready to start thinking about anything after that. He probably wouldn't be able to see her before he left, and frankly he wasn't sure if he even wanted to - because then he would have to tell her everything, too. The whole messed up story.
He glanced over and watched Jerry move, partly grateful that he wouldn't have to turn his head anymore, but partly wishing he had stayed where he was. At least then Lucas could have avoided looking right at him for this.
How to start? Well, from the beginning, sure. From the point where he left the fight - it was obvious now that Jerry hadn't seen what he had, or heard him call out when he started toward the alley. There was no way of easing into it, really. No putting it lightly.
Another weak smile as Jerry poked him in the cheek, and he turned his eyes upward briefly in a "yeah, yeah" kind of expression. Then he settled in to get down to business.
He started to move his hand to brush his bangs out of his eyes, but felt the tug of the IV tape on his skin and stopped, closing his eyes instead.
"Dorothy was there," Lucas said, finally, and with eyes still closed, just continuing to talk. "During the fight I saw her come out of the building, being pulled by this other guy in a suit - she was trying to fight him off, but he was dragging her down the alley. I saw her look toward the fight . . . I think she called for us . . . I tried to get your attention, but the Anderson brothers had just showed up out of nowhere and things were getting crazy." He should have waited. He should have pulled someone aside and brought them along . . . but no, with what happened next that probably wouldn't have made much difference. "I followed her."
Lucas sighed again, pausing to gauge the pressure in his head. Normal, by these last few days' standards. He continued.
"The alley opened up to a crossing point between two other alleys . . . She was waiting there, on her knees . . . She'd somehow knocked the guy out, and he was there next to her on the ground. She was just looking at me . . ."
He opened his eyes, then, and looked back at Jerry. The next part was where it got bad, and Dorothy being there must have been enough to swallow already.
Post by Jeremiah Burton on Sept 22, 2013 14:49:24 GMT -5
Lucas Courtwater 527
Lucas didn’t immediately start following his poke or assurance, which wasn’t much of his concern. Jeremiah knew he was probably going to have a bit of a rough time putting his trains of thought together into something coherent. As a kid, Jerry was victim to multiple migraines and headaches due to his uncle’s research, and he could barely get his thoughts together long enough to ask for something to eat or drink some times. This was just a moment that required patience, which Jerry wasn’t well known for. Still he kept quiet, and looked down at his feet as he waited. The room fell silent for everything minus the hums and clicks of the machines, their breathing, and the soft shuffle of Jeremiah’s now swinging feet.
Dorothy was there.
Jeremiah’s head snapped up almost fast enough to give him whip lash. “Wha—“ he cut himself off. The brief speech was breathless and soft, hard to hear or understand if you weren’t paying attention. Anyways, he knew exactly what Lucas had said, but it was the simple fact he couldn’t believe it. Dorothy was there? Now Jeremiah’s brain entered over drive and he found himself full of even more and more questions. It was a matter of waiting, though. Thankfully, Lucas was already getting to the task of carrying on the story without some sort of prompt. There was no need to wait; the blond knew this information was being absorbed like a sponge by the red head.
What had Dorothy been doing there, though? How did she even get there?! Was she really one of the people this organization brain washed? Or was it some other thing altogether? Had she run away to avoid getting caught, but did anyways? Why did they decide to take her outside in the middle of some gang fight going on outside where tons of people might see them? Jeremiah’s head was rattled with questions, more and more coming as Lucas continued speaking. There was an understanding nod from Jerry when Lucas confessed to have trying to get his attention. The young Burton recalled that moment with regret over the past couple of days. He had heard Lucas call out, but when he turned to see what the issue was, he was pretty much forced away by the rest of the group to handle the troublesome brothers.
When Lucas paused, Jeremiah didn’t say a word. He didn’t want to derail the train of thought Lucas had going, but he wanted to ask so many questions. Biting his tongue, he forced himself to remain silent and waited for his friend to continue. It was obvious he was getting anxious, though. His feet had stopped swinging back and forth, but with his heels on the legs of his chair, Jeremiah tapped his toes silently on the air in rapid succession. When Lucas finally stopped and looked over at him, Jeremiah tried to regain some sense of calm and control. He tensed up his legs and forced himself to be still. He remained silent, swallowing a ball of nerves. Jeremiah watched Lucas for a moment, before he dared to finally ask “… What happened, Lucas?”
Post by Lucas Courtwater on Sept 22, 2013 19:12:51 GMT -5
keep your secrets
“… What happened, Lucas?”
Jerry was completely still now - something that didn't happen often. Only when there was something wrong. Lucas looked at him for another second, suddenly hit with an with almost irrational feeling of apology - as though by telling the rest, he became the one inflicting the damage.
He turned his gaze to the clock on the opposite wall. Four hours, fifty-eight minutes, now. Might as well keep going before he got interrupted.
"I knew something was wrong, but it was just one of those moments, you know? Like you're dreaming. And she looked really scared, right then, so I started to go over to her to get her away from there, in case that guy woke up again . . ." The whole event carried a dream-like quality, now. In his memory the alley seemed to shimmer, wavering slightly as though formed with water. Or maybe it wasn't just his memory. ". . . She smiled, when I got close. What's that saying? Like the persian that ate the pidove . . ." It had stopped him in his tracks. And he had known, then. He had really known.
A white smile Raspberry lipstick. Flawless, decadent - she had never been a captive.
The clock struck the top of the hour.
"She was with them, Jerry," Lucas said, after another long moment, and even as he spoke he could hear how awful he sounded - strained, hoarse, half-conscious. "She and the man stood up . . ."
She patted down her skirt, smoothing it over her thighs, turning her head up slightly to smile at him again, blue eyes gleaming through thick lashes. She had looked nothing like Jerry, at that moment. She hadn't looked like anything human.
When she straightened, she clasped her hands in front of her, shrugging slightly, looking almost casual.
She said . . .
"'Oh, Jeremiah's not with you? That's a shame - I guess he won't get a chance to kill for you after all,'" he quoted, in monotone and still staring at the clock.
"Then there was something behind me. It must have teleported in, on cue. I turned around to try to hit if first . . ." Pivoting on instinct, he already had it in his head to go for a hit to the side of its head, then dodge away and get out of the alley. ". . . but then there were suddenly all these other people there. They must have been cloaked, somehow, because they were on either side of me before I could do anything . . ."
His arms throbbed at the memory.
Dark figures in hoodies and t-shirts, indistinguishable from one another and all around him, wrestling him back, gripping his arms, kicking his feet out from under him, his face coming inches from the asphalt before they yanked him up again . . .
"And then they held me there."
Lucas stopped again, not daring to look at Jerry this time as he tried to think of how to put what had happened next into words.
Post by Jeremiah Burton on Sept 22, 2013 20:11:57 GMT -5
Lucas Courtwater 741
Watching Lucas look at him with an apologetic look, Jeremiah merely returned the gaze with a frown and gentle shake of his head. Almost as if saying ‘don’t blame yourself’ the red head raised his head slightly from his hand to lower his hand and gently pat the other’s arm. He was careful to avoid the wires and tubes hooked up to Lucas in the process, and returned his hand to its previous position once he was done. As he settled back in place, Jeremiah realized Lucas’s eyes were no longer on him, but they were turned to the clock positioned on the wall. The time it presented held no significance to Jeremiah, but given they were in a hospital, he wondered if maybe Lucas was anticipating the arrival of some doctor or nurse. He wasn’t entirely sure what Lucas’s treatment plan was, anyways.
Once the time was registered, though, Lucas carried on with his story. Thinking nothing more of the glance, Jeremiah’s focus remained on his friend, tense and still. Slowly nodding along, Jeremiah was absorbed into this tale, like a child hearing an amazing fairy tale for the first time. His expression remained neutral, intent, before Lucas had commented that Jerry’s terrified cousin smiled. Why would she smile? Especially in the way that Lucas had described. Jeremiah knew his cousin was still a bit unwell in the mind from what had happened with her father, his uncle, but that wouldn’t explain her smile. Jeremiah’s eyes trailed away from Lucas and back down to his feet as he continued to listen.
She was with them, Jerry.
Jeremiah’s head didn’t snap up in shock this time. It stayed down as he absorbed this information, no longer awestruck, but merely unnerved by the revelation she and the man stood together. He continued to nod along to his information.
… I guess he won’t get a chance to kill for you after all…
Suddenly, he visibly tensed and froze up at the monotone quotation of his cousin. A fire ignited in Jeremiah as he glared down at the floor, which merely acted as a substitute from the real source of his rage. His hand slid to cover his mouth, ensuring he remained silent as his friend continued to retell his tale. He inhaled and exhaled deeply through his nose in means of self-control. He should’ve known. He should have fucking known. That last night he ever saw Dorothy, the last time he ever spoke to her, it should’ve made him realize she was involved, not a victim. How could he be so stupid? How could he just…
As Lucas went on, Jeremiah’s head only tilted down more and more, before he readjusted to take his elbow off the bed and down onto his knee. Using both arms now, Jeremiah propped his head up in his hands almost as if he were ashamed. Anger and pain mixed together to begin making a dangerous concoction inside of young Jeremiah Burton. As Lucas retold the horrifying experience in the alley, Jeremiah continued his internal struggle with his temper. Eventually it got to the point of restlessness. He started to get up, his movements precise and seemingly stiff. He left the chair beside Lucas as he got up and started to a slow pace to the end of Lucas’s bed. It was around then that Lucas had stopped and Jeremiah turned to rest his back against the wall, feeling freer to move in his new position. He leaned back on the wall and crossed his arms tightly over his chest and gripped his sleeves in an iron tight grip.
“What did they do to you, Lucas?” he asked, his voice controlled but having an obvious underlying rage. Venom dripped from his lips as he softly tacked on “What did Dorothy do?” He didn’t dare look up anymore at his injured friend. The two kept their eyes off each other, and probably for good reason. With his current internal battle, Jerry was sure if he looked back up and saw the typically tall and proud Lucas Courtwater lying weakly in a hospital bed, he’d break once more. While he was pissed off with his cousin, and with the bastards who laid their hands on his friend, most of his rage rested on himself. He let this happen. He was off fighting a fruitless battle, while the fight he really should’ve been a part of was just yards away.
Post by Lucas Courtwater on Sept 22, 2013 21:01:11 GMT -5
keep your secrets
“What did they do to you, Lucas? . . . What did Dorothy do?” He couldn't bring himself to say anything. Maybe it was the exhaustion, or just everything beginning to catch up with him, but for what felt like an hour he kept his eyes trained on the curtained window to the right of his bed, trying to block everything out, to put it in order . . . To remind himself that he had to keep going, that he would have to tell Jerry eventually, no matter how he reacted. But the truth was that he knew how protective his friend was of him, how much responsibility he shouldered to keep him safe. And when it came down to it, Lucas had already been through the ordeal, the pain had been felt, there was nothing that could be done now, and likely nothing that could have been done then - so, now, he just felt like he was needlessly putting Jeremiah through it.
He didn't want to see Jerry like this right now. That barely contained fury - but it was unavoidable.
But he just felt so tired.
The pressure in his head was worse, but he couldn't say for sure whether it wasn't just from the sudden stress. He hadn't talked this much since he woke up.
Vertical slants of light blinked on suddenly through the curtains - the street lights coming on and streaming through the blinds.
"I don't know, exactly," Lucas said, the words out of his mouth before he had even made the conscious decision to go on. ". . . I've been thinking about it . . ."
The figure before him. Shrouded and backlit, but he could tell it wasn't human. It waited until he was restrained to approach, and then stood over him for a moment, almost as though it was savoring the occasion. Of course, Lucas couldn't be sure. And then, slowly, almost gently, it reached out . . .
"The thing that teleported into the alley came over to me . . . I guess Dorothy was still somewhere behind me, because I don't remember seeing her again. . . It did something. It reached out, but I can't remember . . ."
It was like being smothered and being stabbed and having his head smashed into the ground, all at once, all so quickly that the pain almost didn't register. And all of it in his brain. He didn't cry out, didn't struggle. There was nothing but a strobing hurricane of light and incomprehensible sound, until he couldn't feel his body, couldn't remember his own name. And then he saw things, flashes of things, his own memories and then something else - glimpses of himself and Jerry walking down the street, he and Irene talking on campus, their whole group leaving the lounge . . . shadowy places he didn't recognize, brief glimpses of Dorothy, smiling and saying things that he couldn't hear over the roaring and grinding of two minds colliding.
And then he could feel himself falling away. Darkness at the edges of his vision, the lights beginning to recede until they were just a point on the horizon . . .
And then nothing, for the longest time. Hundreds of years, or just one second. Just a void he drifted through, until at last the hospital room emerged around him, the hushed discussion of the doctors and the low workings of the machines, and he had opened his eyes.
When he continued, his voice was perfectly even, if still a bit ragged at the edges, but there was no mistaking the hollow look in his eyes.
"I think it got in my head . . . I told you before, that I felt like we were all being watched . . . that maybe what we were looking for was . . . That thing in the alley has been following us this whole time." He stopped, slowed his breathing. ". . . It tried to push me out. Kill me, maybe, I don't know how it works. But it was there in my head with me and it was forcing me away from it. I don't know . . . Interpol must have interrupted it before it could finish the job . . ."He gave a short, bitter laugh, surprising even himself. "It sounds crazy . . . but I think it was trying to take over my body."
He looked at Jerry, and his expression would have looked almost sheepish - a sad, weak smile and eyes that were confused and still, just fleetingly, sorry.
"And that's all I remember before I woke up here."
Post by Jeremiah Burton on Sept 23, 2013 15:46:51 GMT -5
Lucas Courtwater 1,252
Silence followed his questions and Jeremiah was once more pegged with guilt. As much as he denied it, and was enraged by the fact Lucas was in terrible condition, him getting worked up like this wasn’t helping. It was hard to calm down, though. He wanted to do something, he wanted to go back and switch places with his friend, to be the one in the hospital bed instead. He wanted to do so many things, but in reality, all he could do was help carry Lucas’s burden by being aware of it when no one else was. It was what the two always did for each other. Lucas knew of the story of Jeremiah’s eye patch, and now Jerry would learn the story of the back alley.
There was no more pushing or prompting to go on, no questions uttered as the room fell to silence. Lucas’s weak voice almost made him wonder if he had passed out under the pressure of retelling his experience. He was sure that the machines would be recording ‘anomalies’ from his friend’s body reacting to the memories of what had happened to him. The doctors might ask about that, but Jeremiah didn’t plan on leaving the room so he’d have that covered. After this, Jeremiah was going to do all it took to make his friend’s life easier, although that had been what he told himself before this all happened.
Before the silence would be broken by Lucas speaking once more, Jeremiah’s mind had run rampant with thoughts and ideas of how this all could have been avoided. He could have done things so different to spare his friend from this. When Lucas finally spoke up, Jeremiah instinctively looked up and his body went rigid. He was once more in a trance, just staring at his friend as he went on, paying delicate attention to every word. It was almost like he was afraid this would be the last time this story was ever uttered, but as far as Jeremiah was concerned, he hoped it would be.
Once more the mysterious figure that had teleported there was mentioned. As far as Jeremiah could recall from his years of being the assistant to a man obsessed with psychics, he had never heard of a proven case of human teleportation without the teleporter using smokes and mirrors or a psychic type. That thing that had snuck up on Lucas couldn’t have been human, but that was only part of the issue. This thing that had teleported had done something to his friend. The more Lucas went on, the more the rage and pain concoction inside of Jeremiah stirred and stirred. Getting in Lucas’s head, them being watched, something looking for them, following them… Oh Jerry knew, he knew very well they had been watched. He could sense those eyes on their backs, that paranoid feeling of not being alone. With his subconscious ability to be more aware of his surroundings, Jeremiah got the sense of being stared at so much he often ignored it.
He ignored it. He ignored the monster that had been slowly sneaking closer and closer to his friend. He ignored the creature that decided to try and hurt Lucas, maybe even kill him, he wasn’t sure, but neither was Jeremiah. He could have found it, could have gone after it, finish it before it started. At this point, he recalled that chilling question Dorothy had asked him at one point. ‘You’d be willing to kill to make sure your friend is safe, right?’ It was a question of morals, and a question Jeremiah avoided answering because he wasn’t sure at first. It was slowly sinking in that… He would. He wanted to go back in time and rip apart all these people just to prevent these past four days from ever happening. His train of thought was interrupted by Lucas’s laugh. It stirred Jeremiah back to his senses and he realized that tears had formed in his eye.
Jerking his head down, Jeremiah reached up to wipe off his face, pausing with his hand over his eye when Lucas announced his belief that the Pokémon was trying to take over his body. Ghost Pokémon did that all the time, but they didn’t have to set their hands on the person to do it. They just had to swoop in and new body… Jeremiah sniffed quietly, before slowly looking up and becoming still once more at Lucas’s expression directed towards him. He gritted his teeth and slowly nodded at the last line, before bowing his head and trying desperately to control himself. He was tired, he was sore, his heart wanted to explode, and he wanted to set the city a blaze. He wanted it all gone, to get this conspiracy theory finished with so this burden would no longer be on their shoulders. It was fun at first, but now… With a loud thunk, Jeremiah’s hand, curled up tightly in a fist, slid back from his crossed position to hit the wall. A small dent in the dry wall was formed, but Jerry had managed to control himself to prevent himself from more damage.
Raising his hand and inspecting it as he shook off some dust from the dry wall, Jeremiah seemed to feel a small wave of calm in response. He wasn’t sure how it worked, but it did the trick. Maybe the knowledge of knowing he could still do damage to something helped soothe him? He didn’t want to think too much into it. Pushing off the wall, rubbing the side of his hand, Jeremiah just quietly made his way back over to Lucas and slid into the seat he’d been in before. “Most people might call you crazy with a story like that… Or tell you it was just a dream” he lightly teased, turning a small smile to his friend. While he knew Lucas didn’t like it when Jeremiah shoved everything down, it was necessary for the time being. In the hospital, he couldn’t start shouting and cursing the heavens for everything, he would save that for later. “I believe ya, though” he assured, looking down at his hand. It wasn’t injured, but it provided something to look at that wasn’t Lucas.
“I almost wish I could say there’s no way Dorothy could have been there, but… It honestly doesn’t surprise me when I think about it. I don’t know what happened to her all these years, but I know she hasn’t been all there in the head thanks to Crazy Uncle Jared” he began, his tone light as if he was telling Lucas a funny story. With a soft sigh, Jeremiah swallowed back his nerves and kept his head down. “I’m sorry…” he softly managed with a forced smile, but he didn’t look up. “I knew we were being watched, but I didn’t think… I knew something was there, but if I’d known it was going to…” he tensed up once more, before starting to laugh softly, a gentle yet hysterical fit of chuckles escaping him. “Son of a bitch, I really fucked up, heh” he mumbled, lowering his head into the palm of his hands as he continued his pathetic and quiet laughing fit, most likely a substitute for a desire to cry. “I mean, I could have blown off the riot to follow you. I knew someone was there, I just… Arceus…” he rambled silently, before taking a deep breath to finally stop his laughing fit.
Post by Lucas Courtwater on Sept 23, 2013 17:21:43 GMT -5
keep your secrets
Lucas flinched slightly as Jeremiah's fist went into the wall, closing his eyes and taking a breath. He had expected it, that and possibly more, but his nerves were shot, his head was working up into a determined throb, and he wanted, more than anything, for Jerry not to put this whole thing on himself. Because they had been here before, but the last time was in an abandoned warehouse down Crawley Way, their roles were reversed, and it had been Lucas that felt like he had done nothing.
Lucas had gone into that warehouse knowing part of the story - the abusive uncle, the series of foster homes - but even all those years later he hadn't realized the extent of what happened until Jeremiah finally broken down and told him the whole of it. From the experiments to the night with the fire poker, to the mandatory counseling and finally, ending up on the streets. And, despite the impossibility of it all, Lucas had felt like he should have done something. That, as Jerry's best friend, he should have noticed something, should have spoken up. Should have been there. Should have, at least, looked harder for him afterwards, when he was old enough to understand what happened and had talked his mother into trying to track him down. Of course, it had been too late by then - Jerry had already pulled the trainer card and gotten out of the system. And then, Lucas had just stopped looking - thinking that maybe Jerry was happy wherever he was, that he would come back to Saffron one day. It didn't matter that there had been no way to find him - Lucas blamed himself for not continuing to try.
And it was that same, thick, irrational blame that Lucas knew he was feeling now - and he also knew that there were no words to convince Jeremiah that the fault was with him for getting them sucked into this whole plot in the first place.
“Most people might call you crazy with a story like that… Or tell you it was just a dream . . .” Lucas opened his eyes to find Jerry back at his side again, his expression deceptively light. He watched the redhead blankly, relieved but also distrusting of the casual tone. Jerry was acting, again - putting on a smile for his benefit. And as glad as he was that Jerry's anger wasn't boiling over, part of him knew that it only meant he was saving it all for later. And this time Lucas wouldn't be there afterwards to patch him up and tell him what an idiot he was. “I believe ya, though.”
He had never doubted that he would.
"Jerry . . ." But he trailed off. The only thing he could think to say was, "I'm sorry," but he didn't know quite for what - maybe for everything.
Lucas inwardly cringed as Jerry began to talk about Dorothy, something about the way he spoke, that joking tone, making the words sound almost toxic. Jerry kept his head down and Lucas turned his eyes back to the clock. Then they drifted down to the new dent in the wall.
This whole thing was so messed up. All of it, just so . . . in a brief, wild moment he tried to remember where they had been this time last week, what they had been doing - but he couldn't bring it to mind.
They were all just a bunch of stupid kids, and he should have known better.
“I’m sorry…”
He felt like shouting, crying, something, but it was as though he had gone entirely numb - even the headache seemed far off, someplace else and irrelevant. So he laid there and listened to Jerry blame himself in a choked silence, all the thing he wanted to say to stop him dying in his throat, until finally the laughter at his side stopped and the room fell quiet again, and all the pain came back, and then a streak of desperation.
He had to say something. He had to say something.
". . . You couldn't have known," he began. "There's no way you could have . . . it was my fault, OK, I shouldn't have . . . they were ready for us." So many hands grabbing at him from the darkness. ". . . they were expecting more than just me. They were always ready for us, Jerry. So - so it's OK. You don't have to . . . I don't want you to . . . It's my fault for falling for it in the first place, for getting us involved." As he spoke one of the monitors to his right started to beep faster, and he knew he sounded delirious already, so he stopped, worked on his breathing again. He had always sucked at speaking under pressure, anyway, and he immediately felt stupid for trying. He just needed to focus - both of them blaming themselves wasn't going to get them anywhere. And he wasn't going to be able to take much more of seeing Jerry like that.
He cleared his throat, and it hurt, but he shifted upward on the pillows a bit so he was half sitting-up. He elbowed the pillows back more so they still supported his head. "We know who's behind it now. At least that part wasn't a failure. It's Dorothy and that thing from the alley, and they've been targeting me so . . ." Might as well get it all out now. "Jerry, when I get out of here, I'm leaving Saffron."
Post by Jeremiah Burton on Sept 23, 2013 19:40:17 GMT -5
Lucas Courtwater 708
Of course following his obvious declaration of blaming himself, Lucas did what he did best. He tried to fix it, tried to make it better. That’s just what Lucas did, that’s what this whole situation had started with. A dream to help his half-brother and find his mother, this situation was sparked by that simple desire to help. It was that trait Lucas had that was what Jeremiah admired the most of his friend. While Jerry was always so chipper, and almost as happy-go-lucky as Lucas, he was truly a jaded being underneath. At the start of these long years of searching and picking the city apart, Jeremiah had firmly believed this would just end up being a wild goose chase. It wasn’t until Lucas started to explain to him the many things they’d been finding that Jerry’s view on this had started to change. He started to have hope, and believe that maybe… Just maybe there was something more to this than he thought.
As Lucas began saying it was his fault, Jeremiah’s head began to slowly rise up from his hands. He turned his gaze to Lucas with an expression that clearly asked him to stop. He wanted to tell Lucas to shut up and take all the blame for himself. Then it dawned on him, as the machines acted up, the two were in a stand still concerning their arguments. Both would blame themselves no matter what the other said. A heavy sigh escaped him at this realization and his head fell back into his hands. While Lucas worked on catching his breath, Jeremiah worked on trying to sooth a slowly forming headache. His second wind was starting to die down with the amount of energy being quickly boiled away as this conversation carried on.
When Jeremiah prepared to give the ‘we both fucked up’ speech to at least try and satisfy their strange desires to put the blame on themselves, Lucas was already moving on. Leaving the subject of blame with Lucas trying to take it all for himself, Jerry was left unconvinced. He made note to tell the other to just let him be selfish for once and take all the blame for himself, even if the argument he was about to give would be slapping the blame sticker on both of them. With Lucas trying to move on before Jerry could say his rebuttal, it just made Jeremiah more suspicious that it was his own fault.
Slowly glancing up at Lucas, Jeremiah began to gradually sit up as well. With the new position Lucas situated himself in Jerry knew the next part wasn’t going to be that pleasing to hear, either. As Lucas put emphasis on the word me and trailed off, Jeremiah was ready to pounce at the chance to try and lighten the mood.
They’ve been targeting me so…
You’re going undercover? You’re just camping out in the hospital? You’re going to cross dress, again? Diamond Den, Lucas, have you learned nothing? Oh no wait, Jeremiah had been the one to fail at drag, Lucas pulled it off… Damn pretty boy, you made a very pretty gir—
I’m leaving Saffron.
“No” Jeremiah’s response came out before he even took a moment to think. His outburst was followed by a pause, before he slumped back in his chair. He groaned in frustration and pulled slightly at his hair before patting his cheeks a few times, spazzing out enough in his chair to roll a few feet from the bed. Now he wanted to start yelling, like a child throwing a tantrum, but in the darkness he’d rolled off to, Jeremiah took a chance to gather himself back up. There was another long pause following his fit before he gradually started to slide back over to Lucas. Situating himself back beside the blond, he took a deep calming breath and looked up at him in confusion. With the buildup to the announcement, he at least knew why and understood, but he still didn’t like the idea. He opened his mouth, before shuting it and frowning at Lucas. “Where are you going?” was his first question. Then before Lucas could answer, Jeremiah was already jumping onto the next part. “I’m coming with you.”
Post by Lucas Courtwater on Sept 23, 2013 23:39:53 GMT -5
keep your secrets
“No!”
Lucas looked over at him, blinking and wide-eyed as he pulled at his hair and slapped his cheeks. He hadn't known what reaction to expect - but that one had been pretty definite. Not that him going out of town ever went well - Irene had probably been snickering quietly in her lab for weeks after their parting scene when he had gone off to Hoenn for a month - but somehow, he thought this time would be a given. Even if he hadn't yet explained his exact reason for wanting to get out of town, fast. That what had happened in the alley hadn't exactly stopped, yet, even though it seemed to have paused for the time being.
He watched Jerry as the chair rolled off into the shadows, and Lucas pressed farther back into the pillow. His head still turned, the coolness of the fabric felt refreshing against his cheek. He waited patiently for Jerry to roll back up to the bed.
The redhead to another deep breath, before looking over at him questioningly. "Where are you going?" Before Lucas could begin to answer, he continued. "I'm coming with you."
He couldn't say that he hadn't partially expected that. Lucas sighed, slowly turning his head back to a forward-facing position and absently glancing up at the clock again. "I don't know where I'm going yet . . . I made a deal with Interpol. There's going to be this meeting, and I'm going to fill Special Agent Brennan in on most of what we've found out so far . . . Minus a few things . . ." Like what had been done to him, and likely Dorothy's direct involvement, though he would probably name her as among the missing, so she would at least be recognized. ". . . And in exchange they're going to leave our group alone, and get me out of the region instead of detaining me . . ."
He thought about Heloise Brennan - how strangely understanding she had been, how she almost seemed to get downtown Saffron, flaws and all. He had a feeling she had been around this kind of place before, and partly for that reason he found himself trusting her.
Not to mention that she and his mother secretly seemed to get along, though they had made a big show of making sure all SA Brennan's people and the hospital staff believed that they reviled each other, for some reason. Not to mention that she all but gave him a pat on the back for what they had accomplished so far, trampling on her case and inadvertently causing a riot notwithstanding.
He looked back at Jerry. Of course he wanted his best friend along for the ride, but as of that moment, Jerry was the only one beside himself who held all the cards when it came to what was going on. Someone had to stay and make sure things kept moving - and most importantly, stayed somewhat under control. ". . . I need you to stay here. You're the only other person who knows what all is going on . . . and . . ." He thought back to the brief, but informative talk he had had with SA Brennan early that morning (with his mom, as always, hovering back in the corner of the room). "She said we're supposed to stay out of it from now on - that we should leave it to Interpol . . . but I think she implied that that was only her 'official' standpoint . . ."
In other words, keep investigating, but stay on the down-low.
He cleared his throat again, looking down toward his hand and messing with the thin hospital blanket.
"Also . . ." He sighed. ". . . they know about Irene, and . . . I don't know . . ."
That flash of memory - the two of them on campus after classes had let out, seen from a third-person perspective. It still made him tense-up, thinking about it. And she still had no idea what was really going on, even though her finding out was looking inevitable, at this point.
"I don't want to leave her out in the open," he admitted, eyes settling back up on the clock, half out of a recently-formed habit, and half because it seemed like the safest place in the room to look.
