Jess and Garrison
Aug. 7th, 2023 12:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsGarrison checks in with Jess, on a topic that neither of them enjoy.
Consciousness was . . . not ideal.
Jess knew she was in the medlab at Xavier's, which meant - well, it meant something, although the most her fragmented memory could provide was a sense of weird college dorm combined with generally okay place. And while her entire body hurt (the list of ailments went from concussion, grade 2 to enlarged spleen to impressively cracked ribs with various abrasions and soft tissue damage rounding them out), she also felt more clear-headed than she had in - well, recent memory, however long that was.
Still, that didn't make placing the man who entered the room any easier; his face here and now felt overlaid with something like deja vu, more of a sensation than an actual memory. "Did I hit you, or did you hit me?" she asked, hoping at least one of those things had really happened.
"You tried to hit me, I stopped you, and then I missed the knee. Which, frankly, pretty good thing I'm single right now because your aim was treacherously good with that shot." He pulled a chair over and sat down by the bed. "Doc Grey says you got a headful of wiring so bad you could project it onto a drive-in screen, so take this question as optional to answer but... what the hell has been going on, Jones? You just, well, disappeared a couple of years ago."
"I - what?" She stared at him, distracted from her initial question by the sheer number of things here that did not make sense. "Maybe we could rewind to who you are, and how you think you know me?"
"Ah, that's what Haller was talking about. The name is Kane. Garrison Kane. At one point, we were vaguely friends." Kane said, leaning back in his chair. "But I'm guessing there's an awful lot of gaps in your memory right now."
"More fucking gaps than memory," Jess muttered, exhaling irritably. She looked at him, genuinely trying to remember. "And you knew me? Here?"
"Yeah. But that's ok." Kane said, holding out his hands for a second. "Apparently you took a hard psionic backlash from something."
"So I'm told," Jess said, tension around her eyes as she watched him. "So who are you?"
"Garrison Kane. I'm an RCMP officer seconded to the FBI. And, in this place, I'm also one of the X-Men." He said. "Let me know if anyone those make any sense to you."
"You're a cop," Jess said, voice dubious. She paused, brows drawing together as what he said triggered a long-forgotten memory of watching old cartoons. "A - Canadian cop? And I guess also a mutant cop?" How many types of cop could one guy be, actually?
"All of those are correct. I mean, I have the hat and everything if you need proof."
"That sounds . . . busy," Jessica said, cautiously. She swallowed as a new, awful thought laced tinny adrenaline into her mouth. "Am I under arrest, then?"
"No, you're in a private medical facility. You've run into a psychic attack of some type which has effected your memories. Unfortunately, I have to ask something of you that I know you hate but trust us to help you get your head in order. Because we do know you, even if you don't know us. If you do, I'll be the first to take you for a drink at Josie's."
God, she could use a drink, but at least she wasn't going to jail. She looked at Garrison with dark, tired eyes, and her jaw worked before she said, "I'll hold you to that," lifting her chin a little, go ahead.
"I need you to tell me the last things you remember. Of your life or what you think your life is. Nothing detailed or personal, but just broad strokes before that warehouse." Kane said, tamping down any personal reactions.
A simple request, but one that expanded painfully in Jess's chest, lowered her eyes to her hands. She fixed her gaze there. "The last couple of months - it was in and out. Mostly out, by the end. I was trying to work, but - " That wasn't what he was asking. She tried not to clench her hands. "That's what happened to people, at the end. They burn out. Your mind just - " Words failed her, so she just shrugged, tense.
"Is this because of the man's influence? People other than you?"
She held her flinch, barely, just a twitch of her shoulders. "Yeah, people other than me," she said. "Whoever he kept around."
"Do you remember any names? Faces well enough to describe them to an artist?" Kane said, leaning forward. "I kow this is hard, Jess, but I have run this fucker's name through every database I have access to and quite a few I'm not supposed to. Zebediah Kilgrave is a ghost. I matched it to an English kid who died over twenty years ago, a 72 year old farmer in Idaho, an adopted 12 year old Chinese kid in Ohio. I can't find him, but if he's got other people in... well, thrall-" Kane paused, drywashing his hands. "You're a victim and it is fucking unfair to do this, but if he has other victims..."
Jessica's jaw clenched, swallowing against a wave of nausea and a hot streak of anger. She knew it wasn't an unfair question; she'd brought up the others, after all. "I - " Her face worked, pulling at bruised skin, at memories that she could barely summon. Blurred faces; the memory of sound without words. "I don't think I fucking remember," she said, finally.
"No, it's ok. It's ok." It wasn't ok, but torturing Jessica wouldn't help. "You need to just know you're safe here. You have time to recover. And if you- if you want help for anything, you let us know. And... if not, that's ok. There's a pretty decent bar close by and while it isn't Josie's, I can stand you a couple of shots."
Despite the fog of pain and medication, there was something exceptionally clear and bleak in Jessica's eyes as they met Garrison's. Then she looked away and it was gone. "Well, I could use a goddamned drink," she said, half under her breath.
"Once they clear you, the first one is on me, eh?" Kane said, with a friendly smile that was a lie.
Jessica might not have seen the lie, but she certainly saw a cop smiling at her, so her look back was level and guarded, and rather than replying, she just nodded.
Consciousness was . . . not ideal.
Jess knew she was in the medlab at Xavier's, which meant - well, it meant something, although the most her fragmented memory could provide was a sense of weird college dorm combined with generally okay place. And while her entire body hurt (the list of ailments went from concussion, grade 2 to enlarged spleen to impressively cracked ribs with various abrasions and soft tissue damage rounding them out), she also felt more clear-headed than she had in - well, recent memory, however long that was.
Still, that didn't make placing the man who entered the room any easier; his face here and now felt overlaid with something like deja vu, more of a sensation than an actual memory. "Did I hit you, or did you hit me?" she asked, hoping at least one of those things had really happened.
"You tried to hit me, I stopped you, and then I missed the knee. Which, frankly, pretty good thing I'm single right now because your aim was treacherously good with that shot." He pulled a chair over and sat down by the bed. "Doc Grey says you got a headful of wiring so bad you could project it onto a drive-in screen, so take this question as optional to answer but... what the hell has been going on, Jones? You just, well, disappeared a couple of years ago."
"I - what?" She stared at him, distracted from her initial question by the sheer number of things here that did not make sense. "Maybe we could rewind to who you are, and how you think you know me?"
"Ah, that's what Haller was talking about. The name is Kane. Garrison Kane. At one point, we were vaguely friends." Kane said, leaning back in his chair. "But I'm guessing there's an awful lot of gaps in your memory right now."
"More fucking gaps than memory," Jess muttered, exhaling irritably. She looked at him, genuinely trying to remember. "And you knew me? Here?"
"Yeah. But that's ok." Kane said, holding out his hands for a second. "Apparently you took a hard psionic backlash from something."
"So I'm told," Jess said, tension around her eyes as she watched him. "So who are you?"
"Garrison Kane. I'm an RCMP officer seconded to the FBI. And, in this place, I'm also one of the X-Men." He said. "Let me know if anyone those make any sense to you."
"You're a cop," Jess said, voice dubious. She paused, brows drawing together as what he said triggered a long-forgotten memory of watching old cartoons. "A - Canadian cop? And I guess also a mutant cop?" How many types of cop could one guy be, actually?
"All of those are correct. I mean, I have the hat and everything if you need proof."
"That sounds . . . busy," Jessica said, cautiously. She swallowed as a new, awful thought laced tinny adrenaline into her mouth. "Am I under arrest, then?"
"No, you're in a private medical facility. You've run into a psychic attack of some type which has effected your memories. Unfortunately, I have to ask something of you that I know you hate but trust us to help you get your head in order. Because we do know you, even if you don't know us. If you do, I'll be the first to take you for a drink at Josie's."
God, she could use a drink, but at least she wasn't going to jail. She looked at Garrison with dark, tired eyes, and her jaw worked before she said, "I'll hold you to that," lifting her chin a little, go ahead.
"I need you to tell me the last things you remember. Of your life or what you think your life is. Nothing detailed or personal, but just broad strokes before that warehouse." Kane said, tamping down any personal reactions.
A simple request, but one that expanded painfully in Jess's chest, lowered her eyes to her hands. She fixed her gaze there. "The last couple of months - it was in and out. Mostly out, by the end. I was trying to work, but - " That wasn't what he was asking. She tried not to clench her hands. "That's what happened to people, at the end. They burn out. Your mind just - " Words failed her, so she just shrugged, tense.
"Is this because of the man's influence? People other than you?"
She held her flinch, barely, just a twitch of her shoulders. "Yeah, people other than me," she said. "Whoever he kept around."
"Do you remember any names? Faces well enough to describe them to an artist?" Kane said, leaning forward. "I kow this is hard, Jess, but I have run this fucker's name through every database I have access to and quite a few I'm not supposed to. Zebediah Kilgrave is a ghost. I matched it to an English kid who died over twenty years ago, a 72 year old farmer in Idaho, an adopted 12 year old Chinese kid in Ohio. I can't find him, but if he's got other people in... well, thrall-" Kane paused, drywashing his hands. "You're a victim and it is fucking unfair to do this, but if he has other victims..."
Jessica's jaw clenched, swallowing against a wave of nausea and a hot streak of anger. She knew it wasn't an unfair question; she'd brought up the others, after all. "I - " Her face worked, pulling at bruised skin, at memories that she could barely summon. Blurred faces; the memory of sound without words. "I don't think I fucking remember," she said, finally.
"No, it's ok. It's ok." It wasn't ok, but torturing Jessica wouldn't help. "You need to just know you're safe here. You have time to recover. And if you- if you want help for anything, you let us know. And... if not, that's ok. There's a pretty decent bar close by and while it isn't Josie's, I can stand you a couple of shots."
Despite the fog of pain and medication, there was something exceptionally clear and bleak in Jessica's eyes as they met Garrison's. Then she looked away and it was gone. "Well, I could use a goddamned drink," she said, half under her breath.
"Once they clear you, the first one is on me, eh?" Kane said, with a friendly smile that was a lie.
Jessica might not have seen the lie, but she certainly saw a cop smiling at her, so her look back was level and guarded, and rather than replying, she just nodded.
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Date: 2023-08-07 05:56 pm (UTC)where can I read the rest of this
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Date: 2023-08-07 07:32 pm (UTC)