Vanessa & Garrison | Thursday night

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Garrison finds Vanessa beating the hell out of a heavy bag at the gym, takes her out for dinner and proceeds to meddle.

Ignacio had rather slyly been leaving fresh bottles of water by Vanessa without interrupting her rhythm. He provided helpful feedback when she paused and didn't look about ready to slug him for speaking but otherwise stayed out of her way.

If Vanessa couldn't sleep then she would exhaust herself until her body had no fucking choice. If she couldn't shift she would take it out on the heavy bag instead of the mirror she had nearly put her first through earlier. The broken hand from the brick lying in wait on the other side of the glass wouldn't help the worried looks she was getting from the people around her, that was for sure. So she had come here because being here meant she needed to assert a level of control over herself that she wasn't required to have at home.

Being here was almost like being okay. It was almost like she could function. The rhythmic thud of someone's gloved fist hitting a bag or of a jump rope hitting the cement floor helped keep her focused. She could memorize the sounds, keep an eye on the ring for offbeat noises and let the rest of it fade out. She could ignore the way the lights flickering made her flinch for no reason, the way the buzz of fluorescent lighting set her teeth on edge. She could beat the heavy bag until she was too exhausted to raise her arms, pound the speed bag until every other beat faded out and bloody anyone willing to ask her to spar in the ring. And it made her feel less broken than she felt the rest of the time. If she couldn't fix herself then she would wear herself out until it didn't matter. Until she didn't fixate on everything that was wrong. Until she could just black it all the fuck out for a while.

"I hate to mention it, but pink doesn't mean invulnerable, eh?" The voice cut through the background chatter, and Garrison Kane rather cockily leaned himself against the edge of the sparring ring, watching her hit the heavy bag like it was a personal enemy. He knew the response. Vanessa liked to play up the hard bitten, world weary mercenary persona, but the reality was that she took things as hard as he did in her own way. If he thought he could say it without being knifed, he would have told her she was as soft in the heart as he was in some ways. Instead, he followed her intermittantly, trying to offset the worst of her self-destructive tendancies on his time off.

Without missing a beat she replied, "I've always assumed pink was a more vulnerable color," as another punch landed. "I'm testing my theory, see. Pink is either more or less vulnerable than blue, though both are far less durable than perky cheerleader variety. I figure if I don't break any quicker whilst pink than it at least isn't another point against me." Vanessa wasn't stupid. She knew Garrison was checking in on her just like everyone else. Lucas and Jean-Paul could easily use work as their cover for keeping an eye on her, not that the latter following her around while she worked was particularly subtle anyhow. Garrison's lack of subtlety was different and more casual, at least.

"I'm told you're about an hour away from breaking hand bones. And those hurt. They take ages to heal properly, and you end up with knuckles like Luca Brasi at the end of it." He wandered over, abandoning his perch. "I know a good diner around the corner, if you're interested."

"Ignacio's fairly chatty for an old, latino guy, isn't he?" Vanessa paused, catching the bag as it swung back to her again. She quirked an eyebrow and squinted in the old man's direction. You couldn't rightly beat the bloke up, he was older than Thom. Aye, but he could be about as bad as an old lady some days. Or so Vanessa asserted. She grabbed her newest bottle of water and gulped down most of it before answering. "That depends, are you going to give me time to de-sweaty myself or not? Your answer likely won't change mine but it's good to know these things in advance so I can prepare proper excuses for my disheveled state in advance, you see."

"Feel free. I'll even soap your back if you need it." Kane said, with a crooked smile. At least she wasn't trying to deny or dodge the question. "Mind you, this is not exactly the fanciest diner in Manhattan."

Shaking her head, a sly smile slipped onto Vanessa's face. "Now, now, your word goes a long way in maintaining your reputation as an officer of the law around these parts. You shouldn't go making offers you don't intend on making good on." It was all too easy to slip into flirtation. In part it was simply easier to hide behind and in part it was easy just because it was Garrison. Vanessa finished off her water and tossed the bottle, barely making it into the bin, then grabbed her towel to at least mop some of the sweat off her lovely, pinkish peach skin.

"Ah, but I know two things. One, you're not likely to agree in a co-ed boxing facility in the wrong end of New York. And two, what you're hungry for has a lot more to do with beef than beefcake." His easy smile and delivery was as disarming as usual; Kane's inability to not take a joke as far as possible coming to the fore. "So go get changed, Blondie."

"Oh, but the things beefcake could solve for me," she crooned as she started toward the locker room. Vanessa actually smacked him on the ass as she walked by. "Keep calling me that, though, Mountie boy, and we may need to have words."

Being fairly low fuss, Vanessa was in and out of the shower within minutes. Back in street clothes, which for a change was jeans and a tee shirt with a zip up hoodie thrown over, she came sauntering out of the locker room with the strap of her duffel slung across her body. Her hair was still wet and hanging heavily over her shoulders. Doing anything with it before it was dry was more of a hassle than she was willing to endure despite the constant reminder having it in her line of sight provided about her current pigmentation. "You haven't gone and made any other hot dates while I was away and now you're just waiting to let me down gentle, have you?"

"I didn't know that we were a thing. But, you'll be happy to know that my love life is currently disasterous as always." Kane gestured with his chin, and they set off down the steps towards the front of the building. "So, you know, keep teasing me and working on those last threads of self esteem I've kept squirreled away."

"It's hardly my fault you've worst taste in partners than even I have." Though she patted him on the shoulder for good measure. "Should you ever need a stand in fake girlfriend for any reason, allow me to assure you that unless I am unreachable due to work or abduction you can count on me to dress up like a girl and fawn over you appropriately all night." Vanessa flashed him what came very close to being a rather genuine smile. "And look on the bright side, your love life can't possibly be in more shambles than my life in general. It's all about the silver livings here, love. Learn to embrace them!"

"Well, I'm trying to figure out how we can get more depressing, but it's escaping me." He pushed through the doors and out into the street. "The blonde is interesting. Any reason you're not blue these days?"

The chill air hit Vanessa like a wall, clinging to every last bit of moisture on her body. Oh, that wasn't exactly pleasant. It distracted her from the aching throb in her hands, at least. "Technically, I should ask you. I turn blue while asleep on you and then turn pink when I try to go to work in the morning. Insofar as I can tell it's all your fault."

Kane laughed, a short bark in the chill air. "You know what? Your powers make even less sense to me, so you're not pinning this one as my fault. It could have just as easily been the dim sum. Have you been eating enough Chinese since?"

Shoulders collapsing, Vanessa pouted a bit. "My culinary skills are nigh laughable, love. There's been loads of Chinese and sadly to say, with or without MSG, I'm still pink. Those four days straight of Indian and Thai didn't help re-blueify me either. Clearly I'm doomed to be pink." She looked over the opposite side of the street as they walked to hide the slick half-smile creeping onto her lips. "Obviously if I want to be blue I'll have to sleep with you again."

"You know, that's entirely unfair. I'm here, taking you out for a nice meal loaded with grease and you're pretending to wave around sex which isn't going to happen." He said offhandedly, taking the quick way across the street. "I do like the blonde though. It's different. but it's not unsuited to you."

Vanessa wrinkled her nose. "I was blue-eyed once, you know. Before. But I was ginger. The sort of flamingly orange-red you rarely find outside of the Irish or bottles of dye. if I've got to be people-colored I'd prefer to have my original hair color back. Instead I get blonde." She picked up a lock of hair to stare at the end of it. it was cold to the touch and crisp. "I'm still not sure how I feel about it. It's close enough to white to not be jarring but given the rest of the picture," she waved a hand down her front, "it seems to not fit. Maybe it'll grow on me." Vanessa looked back at Garrison, nose still crinkled and lips pursed and pushed off to one side. "Also, I mentioned sleeping. You went to sex. It's hardly my fault, that."

"Uhuh. And I just fell off the poutine truck from Canada here in the big city." It was a typical exchange between Kane and Vanessa; wry, flirty, confused, occasionally infuriating and never entirely honest. "How's the business going? You back in yet, or taking more time?"

"Back in, attempting to recruit more employees and nearly went off to deck a cop. So, you know, all in a week's work really." How was that for direct? It was funny how she was more willing to admit her short fuse on the job than she was her lack of control over her shifting. But then the shifting thing would be attributed to her time away by most, some who would put it down to the scientists and some who would put it down to Vanessa herself. At least she'd always had a fuse of some sort or another, albeit never so short as it was now.

"Careful. The NYPD is employing a female officer with insanely thick wrists these days. Carny hands but wrists like Joe Lewis with the gout. I don't think I can get you out of that one easily." he dodged a couple of teenagers looking for a party and linked back up with her on the sidewalk. "Seriously though, and I know my chances of an honest answer are slim to none, but are you doing alright?"

She looked over at him for a long moment, even as she swerved her way around a parking sign and narrowly avoided a hydrant in her path. "If you want an honest answer that isn't to your question, your odds of an honest about just about anything are likely in direct relation to how confident I can be that anything I saw doesn't come back to bite me in the ass somehow. Many well intentioned gestures are emphatically unwelcome."

"So, wait, if you're honest with me, I get to bite your ass? Hmm... you know, I think I can handle that." Kane's befuddled looking pantamine of the dense was held long enough to earn a laugh.

The laugh also came with a swat to the back of his head. "Not normally my kink, but if it's the only way I get you to take my pants off I could consider the indulgence," she returned, still laughing.

"Again with the teasing." He said, stopping and pulling open the door to the diner. "Apres vous, of course."

"You say 'teasing,' I say 'light banter.'" Vanessa bowed to him when he held open the door and then hurried inside where it was warm and her hair could defrost. The sign up front said they should seat themselves so she found a booth in a bath corner and slid into the side where her back was to the wall. "Besides, you say 'teasing' like it's such a dirty word."

"You say 'Friday' like it's a dirty word, so I think we're square." He handed over a copy of the menu, perusing his own with dedicated interest. One thing that Kane was always ready to do was eat; his mutation and frame needing a lot of food to support it.

She opened the menu and let her eyes drift between the options and the patrons of the diner, the wait staff, the kitchen entrance, the windows, the entry...assessing weak points, points of attack, where someone could surprise them from. Casually, she remarked, "I'm far too out of practice in the sorts of skills necessary to make Friday sound dirty."

Garrison caught the telltale flicker of her gaze, but decided not to comment. Things like Vanessa had been through took a long time to process, and considering her past experience, evaluating everything like a war zone wasn't necessarily the unhealthest choice. "Then I guess we'll always have the meatloaf special. By which I mean, I'm having the meatloaf. Two of them."

"My mother made horrendous meatloaf." It was rare for Vanessa to bring up her mother, never mind outside the topic of her father's death. "Dry and hard and very possibly able to replace a brick should you find the need. Put me off the stuff for life. There is substantial emotional trauma there." Obviously she wasn't serious about the trauma. "I'm trying to find chicken that isn't fried on here. Oh! Oh, I found grilled chicken. That's like hitting the lottery." Her eyes peered over the top of the menu and across at Garrison. The tops of her cheeks came up as well from the smile concealed behind the plastic pages of the menu. "You take me to a greasy spoon and I try to find the only healthy thing on the menu. You're not going to break up with me now, are you?"

"Not until I figure out how to break the news to the children." The waitress wondered over for their order, and as usual, Kane's came with a request for unlimited coffee.

"You know Sally is going to insist she lives with you," Vanessa continued after placing her order. The waitress hadn't gotten more than two steps yet. "She's such a daddy's girl."

"Obviously it's my midlife crisis. I'll have to buy a car like Scott and start dating Angel or something." Kane quirked a smile, and leaned back in his booth. "So, other than killing the heavy bag, how have you been doing?"

Wrinkling her nose a bit, she shrugged. "I don't know, fine I guess. I haven't killed anyone or broken down in a sobbing heap so I figure I'm doing fine, all things considered. And there's more than enough to keep me busy at work."

"I believe in occupational therapy. What's the deal with the agency?"

"How do you mean? It's still there, for one. And in the black. They turned a lot of cases away while I was gone so they could focus on that so I've been contacting people to see if they still want or need our help and taking or distributing cases as necessary from there." Vanessa wasn't sure I'd that answered the question. It was a little too vague for her to return with anything really helpful.

"Tell me you're not pulling all nighters at the office or the gym?" Kane said, well aware of his own methods for handling stress and the possibility of Vanessa doing the same. She wasn't the kind of person to ask for help easily.

"Ignacio closes shop around ten most nights and Bishop lives across the street," she told him by way of explanation, inferring that otherwise she definitely would be pulling all nighters in either of those places. "However, it's not my fault if a case requires me to sit out all night to wait for the money shot. Or if I get pulled into some fantastic Chuck Norris marathon all night." Sleep, clearly, was not necessary. Or so her body had decided.

"Ahh." It wasn't a development that Garrison liked, but there wasn't much he could do about it. His mutation made his own sleep needs minimal, but it still existed. Following his own kidnapping, he'd avoid even the little he normal took for weeks, a paranoid fear that if he drifted off, he could wake up anywhere, powerless again. If that was the case, he doubted Vanessa would tell him. Regardless of how long he'd known her and the closeness of their friendship, there was still a limit to how much she'd allow her guard to fall. "Chuck Norris and money shots, eh? That's quite the evening."

"Innit? I know, you're jealous but I just think you're not cut out for the life of adventure and danger I've got," she told him with a straight face. "It'd be too much for you, I think, and no one would ever forgive me for going and landing the Mountie in hospital unless you were perhaps participating in the money shot. Folks might forgive me for that one."

"You know, I have this feeling that you're mocking me. Or teasing me. Or both. It's very complex." He was about to say something when the waitress showed back up with their plates, and he paused as the two orders of meatloaf were slid in front of him.

Even as the waitress was going about her business a pout had slid onto Vanessa's face. It wasn't trying to be convincing, that much was clear. After the other woman inquired if they needed anything else then left Vanessa's pout became more sad and pronounced. "Would I mock you? Is this what you think of me?" She added a little sniffle for good measure.

"That is exactly what I think of you. You wouldn't pass up a chance to slip in a joke even if there was money involved." Kane pointed out, gesturing with his fork.

The pout only grew more pronounced. Then promptly disappeared in the midst of a shrug. Vanessa bit some chicken off the chunk on her fork and smiled serenely. "At least it's never malicious when it's about you?" She asked with a hopeful tone and big eyes.

"Which might have something to do with the fact that I tracked you down at the gym for dinner." He dug into his meal, eating with his usual methodical speed. "So, work is fine. Life is survivable. But you're now pink. I was hoping for more of a return on my interference and meddling in your private life, to be honest. Last chance before I go all Canadian and accept that saying fine actually means you're fine."

"Oh, was this supposed to be meddling?" She asked with mild surprise. "You should consider getting some tips from Laurie om meddling, then. Your technique could use some work. For example, if you want more detailed information you should ask more specific questions. It's not like I've actually lied to you," Vanessa explained calmly between bites as she ate with much less speed than her companion.

"Okay. You still having nightmares?"

The smile she gave him was small but still managed to look more like a grimace than a smile. "Most times I close my eyes."

"Unless you're too exhausted to think when you finally steal a few moments sleep. Am I getting close?"

Vanessa shrugged one shoulder as she chewed another bite of chicken. "Sometimes. Sometimes it doesn't help much anyway. If I sleep long enough they show up."

"I've been through the nightmares too, Vanessa. I know it's not part of your normal comfort zone, but talking to someone about them helps. Slowly, but eventually it works out." Kane said, pausing from his meal. The Canadian was too earnest to have an effective bedside manner, but he was infallibly honest and he did speak from direct experience.

Talking to people. Yes, that was exactly what she wanted to do. That was precisely why Vanessa was so damned determinedly evasive so much of the time on the topic of her abduction. She stared at him like he had two heads even though she knew Garrison was sincere. "You are seriously suggesting I go see a shrink?"

"Yeah. Because even if it isn't full blown post traumatic stress, getting kidnapped and tortured will fuck you up regardless how hard a person you think you are." Kane said. "Considering that my Uncle Pete, who's about as tough minded a son-of-a-bitch you're ever going to meet, is currently getting therapy, I think it proves that it can help anyone, eh?"

He wanted her to see a shrink. Vanessa fell silent and turned her focus downward to her food. Garrison had actually suggested she see a shrink. She wasn't entirely sure why that surprised her, but she had a very immediate reaction to that suggestion which was an overwhelming hell no. After a few silent bites of chicken Vanessa finally replied quietly, 'It's not about being 'hard.' I'm just not that eager to talk about it, really. Friends at least give a shit about you, but sometimes they care so much but feel so helpless that it starts looking a hell of a lot like pity. I can't stand being pitied. But a stranger? They don't really give a fuck about you and just want to keep you fucked up so they can keep getting your money. How is that an attractive proposition?"

Vanessa finally raised her eyes and let her gaze meet Garrison's again. "Why can't I just figure out how to deal with it on my own like I have everything else that's ever happened? What makes this so special?"

"Vanessa, my other degree is in psychology, you know." He said, although he'd moved on from earnest to gentle. "And sometimes, there's a point where dealing with it yourself isn't enough. You can't think your way around all of the barriers and the traps that these kinds of events leave in your head. You need someone who can help you navigate."

He put down his fork and put his hands infront of her. "I remember every second of having my arm ripped right off my body. Every moment of feeling the blood pour out and with it, my life ebbing away. Every. Single. Moment. And it haunted me until I finally found someone to talk to who didn't pretend like they understood what I'd gone through. I was the only person who could truly understand what I'd been through. But they helped me to understand all of the tools that were inside my head, and how I could apply them to each of the barriers in my mind to get past them. I was the person who figured out what I needed to heal. All they did was help me to identify the barriers and how to start."

Had she known he had a degree in psychology? Vanessa was pretty sure she hadn't known that, actually. While she chewed on her lower lip and looked at him all she could think was, The smile is a trap to lure you in.

Maybe it was her - rather flawed - coping mechanism to not focus inward that had her fixating on the fact that he remembered his own arm being ripped off. He remembered bleeding out. He remembered dying. And even now she wanted to hunt down the bastard who had done it and tear him into small, unrecognizable pieces. Even now she wanted to somehow fix it or avenge him even though Garrison didn't need her to do any of that. Old habits. Maybe that was what happened when you didn't deal with stuff, you kept the original impulse related to a situation indefinitely.

"I don't want to talk about it right now." She answered, still quiet. Vanessa wasn't sure how much time had passed since he had stopped talking, but she had the feeling it was far longer than was precisely polite. "Not in that sort of...depth. I keep expecting skin to fall off where I know they cut it off. I look in mirrors and I don't recognize myself because I'm the wrong color. And the last thing I want to do is sit down and talk about my feelings or experiences or memories. I want to figure out how to get through a fucking day. Talking to a stranger about my special time overseas is way down the priority list after that. Maybe it's not the answer you want me to have. Maybe you were hoping I would do better, try more, be stronger, seek help...but I'm just not capable of that right now, mate. It all involves energy I just don't have to spare."

"That's fair." Kane agreed quietly. "But when those coping mechanisms stop coping, think about what I said? I know it's against all of your normal impulses, but asking for help isn't a sign of weakness, Vanessa. It's a sign of courage. Unhelpful lecture over." Garrison finished, putting up his hands in surrender. Trying to badger Vanessa into getting help would have the opposite effect, if just for her to be stubborn. All he could do was keep an eye on her and hope that their friendship meant she'd at least think his words over seriously.

"I know it's not a sign of weakness," she returned quickly. Vanessa had once pounded the exact same message into Adrienne's head. Almost literally. She was well aware of the lesson. Preaching it and embracing it were very different experiences, though. Easier said than done, right? Vanessa sighed and rubbed at her eyes.

"Just...I need to be able to deal, okay? I need to know it's me when I see a reflection. I need to figure out some small amount of what is me and what isn't. And I need to figure out how to function better without sleep. When I can get through a day - just one day - when I can just do that without feeling like I'm going to rip someone's arm out of the socket or like I can't leave my apartment without this dark cloud overhead or whatever the fuck else it is that I can't even begin to explain? Then I will think about it, okay?"

Garrison meant a lot to her, to say the least. It went beyond reasons of friendship, not that she was likely to ever tell him that. And for those reasons she really would think about it. She couldn't promise anything beyond considering it, but she could do that much. "My word, I will at least think about it. That's all I can give you but I will give you my word I will do that much."

"Good. And now I can finish my mediocre meatloaf without worrying." He grinned at her, snapping quick before picking his fork back up.