3668/Goodbye Best Man
Jump to navigation
Jump to search
| Goodbye Best Man | |
|---|---|
| Date of Scene: | 16 January 2018 |
| Location: | S H I P ' S O P E R A T I O N S - L E G I O N C R U I S E R |
| Synopsis: | After the encounter with Glorith, Drake is still somewhat delusional, and Lar is depressed. |
| Cast of Characters: | Mon-El, Slipstream
|
- Mon-El has posed:
Lar has been lying on a berth in medical with high-intensity sun lamps all around him all night. Fortunately, his Daxamite physiology, like that of Kryptonians, allows him to quickly heal even from the worst of injuries with maximum exposure to yellow solar radiation. Thus, by now, he's almost at 100%.
Jerking awake suddenly, he bolts up off of the berth and starts going through data reports of whatever information they've managed to obtain from deep scans and other testing. He puts his face in his hands, not at all liking what he's seeing because the more he reads the more it's starting to look like Drake condition will be...well, permanent.
- Slipstream has posed:
Sprawled out in a bed as well under heavy sedation over night is Drake. It took a good deal of knockout to get his body to stop vibrating and spazzing all about. He has been burning up with a fever that should have killed most people by now with his body covered in sweat. He's dressed in a medical gown, his bloodied and vomit covered clothing having been removed and tucked away in a garbage bag for the moment. As Lar is going about the data, he slowly comes to as a low, pained groan escapes his lips, his body giving a shift beneath the crisp sheets.
- Mon-El has posed:
Lar sighs deeply, shaking his head. If only he could remember his past, maybe he'd recall something that might have helped this situation. But more than likely, maybe he wouldn't have done something so -stupid- as to endanger someone defenseless! He stands up suddenly, slamming the desk the terminal he was using was stationed on and causing it to become significantly dented.
As for Drake, he's probably been given a lot of drugs not of this time in order to at least ease the pain and dull his symptoms. A temporary fix, but it was all they could do for now.
- Slipstream has posed:
With a raspy breath, Drake's throat makes a whistling noise as he croaks out for air. "Wheeerrrrreeeeaaaaaaammmmmmiii?" His voice slurs out drowsily. His eyes start to peel open, squinting at the lights as he flops a hand over his face. He starts to push himself upwards into a sitting position, feeling his world spin for a moment as he slaps a hand against his face.
- Mon-El has posed:
"You're in medical on the Legion cruiser." Lar murmurs in reply. He finally brings himself to look at Drake's terrible state...he can barely stand it, and looks away immediately again. "You're...safe now."
- Slipstream has posed:
Pushing a hand against his face, Drake feels a surge of nausea run through him. "What happened...? I ... everything is kinda foggy." He rubs at his eyes a few more times with one hand, while clutching the bed with the other. "Where's Laurel? Is she okay?" He asks with a concerned voice. ".. And... Lorelei?"
- Mon-El has posed:
"Drake..." Lar finally looks back at his friend, a grave expression on his face that is telling of the fact that he doesn't have much in the way of good news. "I'm sorry. Laurel is fine...but...your body is..." he shakes his head grimly. "It's just not something we can fix. And whoever Lorelei is, I don't think she ever existed. Whatever you saw in there, it--it wasn't real. It never was. It was all Glorith's doing...she trapped you in some kind of pocket dimension outside of normal space." He walks over to a window and stares out at the glowing blue planet below and the vastness of the Sol system beyond, stars glittering across the blackness of space.
"Damn it!" he clenches his fists in anger at his own foolishness. "Could I stop doing stupid things for a change?! I can't even remember my own -life-!!"
- Slipstream has posed:
".. What? No... " Drake gives his head a shake quickly, then groans as the motion causes the room to spin again. "Glorith? I don't.. I don't remember... I just .. I need to see Laurel." He says again as if uncertain. "I want to see our daughter. She needs to know I'm okay ... please.." He pushes himself to his feet, giving a few wobbly steps before falling down to one knee. He looks down at his current apparel, cheeks flushing. ".. Where's my underwear?" Looking down at his hands, he looks confused. ".. I have .. wait .. how old am I?" He looks over at Lar, tilting his head. "Lar, are you okay?"
- Mon-El has posed:
"No!" Lar turns around, frustrated now. "Didn't you hear me the first time? -Glorith- was the one who sent you outside of time and made you hallucinate. -None- of it was real, do you hear?! None of it! You don't have a daughter, and you're not even married! You're team captain of the New York Static, champions of the Overwatch League. -Look-," He moves back over to the terminal he was using earlier, pushing the display over to face Drake. The screen shows the reports about him that have been circulating, and even some videos of a very distraught Zapp frantically asking some police officers about Drake's condition, although they can't give him any of the answers he seeks.
"I'm sorry Drake...but I never should have gotten so close to you. I should've--I should've known better. I should've known something like this would eventually happen." He -needs- to get his memories back somehow, he realizes. Doesn't matter what needs to be done, it needs to happen, and fast. So that maybe, just maybe, he'd stop endangering innocent people. It has happened far too many times.
- Slipstream has posed:
As he listens to him, the concern upon Drake's face melts away into distraught as he gives a look down at his hands again, his eyes darting left to right. "But .. " He pauses. ".. N.... No.. I .. " His voice chokes out, as if he not able to finish the sentence forming. He gives a loud, visible sniff before reaching up to wipe at his face, trembling. He takes a few minutes of softly crying to himself in silence as he struggles to sort everything out. "... you're my best friend ..."
- Mon-El has posed:
Lar stares at Drake, feeling tears begin to well up in his own eyes at the horrible results of his own mistakes, but he forces it back down, refusing to let it show. "Don't you -get- it?! She was obsessed with -me-, she was after -me-, and you got caught in the crossfire because I was stupid enough to put you in a dangerous position. This is on -me-. All of it." he gulps and turns away, unable to look at him any longer as Drake calls him best friend. "...not any more." he says quietly. "As soon as we get you stable, you're going back to New York and you're going back to your old life. If someone comes after you again, I'll do what I can. But otherwise..." The Daxamite sighs. "I just can't do this any more."
- Slipstream has posed:
".. So you.. you don't.. want me as your friend?" Drake asks as he chokes out the words. "You were .. the best man at my we.." He gives his head a firm shake as he pauses in the middle of the word. "You're my best friend.." He says again as his voice trails off. He stumbles back up to his feet and looks around the medical bay for a few moments, seeing the ship for the first time through his eyes. "You're just going to get rid of me, like trash? You don't... that's how much I meant to you? You'd rather just get rid of me? After all that we've been through?" His voice rises up angrily at him. He takes a step towards him, then finds himself tripping forward as his body blurs forward, zipping across the floor. He stumbles with the motion, hitting the wall hard with a solid 'clank' as he lets out a pained yelp. He hits the ground in a heap, clutching his face with his hands.
- Mon-El has posed:
"No, because you do mean everything to me, but I've brought nothing but ruin to your life. And for the last time, there was no wedding. No daughter, no wife. The sooner you accept it, the better off you'll be."
When Drake falls to the floor, there's a flash of motion and Lar picks him back up and puts him back on the bed as gently as he can. Then he moves to the door, but pauses in front of it. "But you are right to hate me...I deserve every bit of it."
The door slides open. "Goodbye, Drake..." And with that, he's out the airlock in the hallway.
- Slipstream has posed:
"Don't... ! P.. please don't go!" Drake calls after him with panic in his voice. "Lar!" He hollers out in a choking, raspy voice. "Don't leave me too!" There is true fear there as his eyes widen, shifting about in the bed to watch the doors close behind him. His breathing picks up heavily, heart racing as he clutches at his chest. ".. H.. hurts."