Log:Grimm Reality

The Madness of David Flyte 2020/02/10 Porter Grimm 22

In Grimm's bedroom...

Peace. Quiet. Snuggly cuddles. Pleasant dreams. Porter might be able to take the blame for some of those, though utter exhaustion is also good at helping with sleep. Maybe not the pleasant part, but still sleep.

It was certainly more cozy than sleeping in a harness rig to keep her dimensionally stable, and seems to have similar effects. Gabrielle got some deep, uninterrupted sleep and content, mundane dreams. Eventually the light seeping in from the dawn is enough to rouse her. She yawns and slowly stretches, eyes gradually blinking open.

Yes, what a comfortable way to wake. Unhurried, relaxed. The movement even rouses Porter, who props up on an elbow to look down at her. Smiling at her. It might also be soothing... were he not smiling QUITE so broadly. Or the red, unblinking eyes. Or black skin. Or the many-layered, gravel-and-glass-chewing-yet-whispery sounds that are his words. "Good morning, Gabrielle..."

Gabrielle's eyes widen and she quickly rolls out of the bed, a scream almost on her lips. She tries to get to her feet, but her legs are tangled in the sheets and she's left scooting back on her rear. "Frak. FRAK!"

Now the Porter That Should Not Be begins crawling across the bed towards her. Flesh crinkles, bones crackle and grind, and the motion is ..off. Like a marionette manned by a puppeteer that don't know how people, or joints, are supposed to move and bend. Fingers elongate into claws that scrape along the bedclothes and the too-wide smile draws closer. As before, the lips don't move at the hollow 'voice' that sounds as if it could be in her head rather than in the room. "...Gabrielle..."

Grimm scoots and kicks with her legs to try and free them from the sheets, until she bumps into the wall. "N-no...stay back!" she holds up a hand to block that horrible visage from her sight. But she can still FEEL all the things so terribly wrong. It makes her skin crawl. Black energy lines her form and four tendrils sprout from it and try to grab the Porter That Should Not be to keep it away.

And the more she tries to scoot, more and more the sheets seem to wrap around her legs. And, yes, despite the hand blocking her sight, everything feels so very wrong. It's not just the bedclothes that feel entrapping, but the very air feels heavy. Restrictive. Binding.

Grimm feels trapped and bound. Panic starts to rise up in her. The same panic she felt as Jonathon's followers held her down. As Jonathon raised the knife. Energy wells inside of her as she tries to keep that hand between her and the UnPorter. There's no where to go. To run. She feels powerless. Even as the shadows rise up to slash at UnPorter with a huge, monstrous hand to protect her, acting with a mind of its own as Gabrielle panics and whimpers.

What evil lurks in the hearts of men? The Shadows know.

They are also rather adept at clawing down Porters, corrupted or otherwise. The blackened, smiling-too-much not-exactly-Porter is torn open, wriggling bits of ... things briefly visible as it flops over on the bed. The head hangs back over the side, somehow still staring at her, upside-down. At least it's not crawling at her any more? She can feel that much.

...or maybe now its just crawling at her on its back?! Mocking her!

Grimm can't think clearly. She covers her face as if that will make it go away, but she can still feel it as the shadows react based on her fear, slashing at the horror again.

When in doubt, hit it until it stops moving! Again!

This seems to pay off, as the vile thing is flung across the room and into a dresser. It's definitely no longer crawling. She can sense it doesn't get up. There are no more whispered voices. She is ...safe..?

As for excessive smiling, red eyes, and black skin, Gabrielle Grimm can confirm this by lowering her hand to actually look. Yay! No red eyes! No smiling!

Porter's expression isn't smiling so much as ... surprise? Shock? Also, while his eyes aren't red, most of the rest of him is. And not just the parts that are normally covered that are exposed. Or those laying in his lap. Or on the bed. Walls. Ceiling? The room looks very much like Pollack and Rorschack held a collaborative session.

The staring, however, remains; his head resting in her dirction, eyes open and unblinking.

Meanwhile, in the other panel that is Porter's head. Inner monologue. Dialogue? Technically, its not just him, afterall.

<> Yes, he can wake up next to someone else and still wish Paragon good morning! <>

A flash of a great deal of pain, that takes even his mental breath away for a moment. Then follows a sense of ... calm? The pain isn't gone, but it's now more distant. Even if that's only from Para's perspective. His thoughts are still pained, but determined, if a bit rushed at the end.

<>

And the connection goes, well, dead.

Gabrielle curls up against the wall as she loses control of her powers, feeling like that terrified girl she was when Jonathon sacrificed her. When the threat is gone, her shadows retreat to her, and she's left trembling. She lowers her hands from her face, and the view is even worse than before. Last time, when the UnPorter vanished, the real Porter was somewhere else. This is even more horrific than last time.

"Oh god...no...Porter!" Grimm scrambles to her feet after untangling her legs at last, running to him and skidding to her knees to stop by him. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she mumbles in grief as she lays a hand on him, tears rolling down her cheeks. She focuses across the city, and tries to teleport them both to the hospital ER.

Meanwhile, Paragon is woken up drowsily to thoughts from her Sweetie. She stretches lazily at first, but the flash of pain communicated makes her sit bolt upright. <> And then, he's gone.

Paragon makes several attempts to reconnect, all failing. Hearing Kysmette calling from her room, she quickly heads there to make sure she's safe while trying not to display her fear.

And even faster that Porter could say "I got this," they're in the middle of the ER! And likely to get attention since the pair are reminiscent of a murder scene. A gruesome one. That, for inexplicable reasons, also serves to placate the censors. At least insofar as overexposure goes. They seem much less concerned of violence and gore for some reason. Porter flops over after arrival, slumped against her. He's not quite as good at it right now, but maybe it still counts as a cuddle?

"Somebody help him!" Gabrielle cries out in a desperate plea, trying to support Porter's body. Maybe even hold in whatever she can.

Not surprisingly, other cries echo out, predominantly from others sitting in the waiting room. They are mostly cries of surprise and shock. The staff is a wee bit more accustomed to bloody scenes... not in the walk-ins, per se, but still.

Several medical personnel promptly run over and other yelling, albeit more controlled, ensues. Directives and calls for equipment. One of them tries to calm Gabrielle and gently but firmly pull her away as others grab Porter. They can't tend to him whilst cuddling, alas.

Grimm is pried off with not much effort. She's not that strong, and she's in shock, tears still streaming down her face.

Even before the gurney arrives, one of the staff is already performing CPR. Another gets a bag ventilator (who'd want to put their mouth on that mess?) and handles breathing. Both pause as he's lifted up and set on the gurney, then resume in motion as he's wheeled off to the back. Lucky enough that he didn't even have to wait in line! "Ma'am? Are you injured?" the one holding Grimm somewhat asks. "We should get you looked at. Can you walk?"

"N-no, I'm fine. I'm not hurt. Just...just save him," Grimm utters as she's held back. "Please...?"

"They're doing everything they can, honey," the nurse assures her while trying to guide her to an exam room. "You should at least sit down, maybe get cleaned up a little. Is there anybody I can call for you?"

"His family. His fiancee," Gabrielle says numbly as she lets the nurse guide her where she needs to be. She sits down, her shadow sight expanding to monitor the progress they're making. What is she even going to say to Paragon...?

"Do you have names or numbers?" Grimm is asked, even as the nurse sets out to check her out. Courteously. It involves alot of cleaning, mostly, to see what, if any, actual injuries she has. Lucky for her, none of the blood is Grimm's.

Through the doors, down the hall, around to the left, there's alot of work going on. A great deal of activity involving several. Possibly emergency surgery or preparations for it. The one doing chest compressions doesn't seem to be doing those anymore. That's a good sign, right? Gabrielle can't hear the noises of equipment or voices, but she can feel that Porter's still there. Still a mental presence, too, though doesn't look in any better shape than the rest of him and is just a muted dim bulb. Not that he was ever the brightest.

"I don't have the direct number, but, umm...Paragon?" Grimm rubs her face with the most recently cleaned hand. "I think the house number is in my phone." She pulls it out and recites the number for the nurse. There's some relief as she feels the mental presence return, even if it's faint. It's something.

The nurse clucks her tongue. "Was that little Jimmy Porter? I didn't even recognize him this time. My stars..." She and older nurse, amd looks like she could have worked here for any number of years. Then again, is it really that surprising that the ER might known him by name? Or that they may have his contact info on speed-dial? She pulls out her hospital tablet and taps a couple taps.

This prompts a general, generic-yet-polite message to Paragon: <>

"Jimmy...?" Grimm asks, having never, ever heard or thought of him that way. "You know him?" Of course she knows him. Half the staff probably knows him. "I've never called him Jimmy, though," she sniffs, eyes red and puffy.

"I don't know that he'd like you to," the nurse chuckles as she resumes wiping Grimm off."His mama's the only one that calls him that, so far as I saw. At least to his face. He's 'Mister Porter' in person, of course. Here, honey," she offers up a box of tissues from the counter to Grimm. "Don't you you worry none. He's in good hands and most everyone here knows him." She lowers her voice in mock-conspiracy. "The boy's a bit accident-prone if you ask me."

"I just know him as Porter. No 'Mister'," Grimm replies, trying to calm herself down. She's not sure how much she can trust what she sees, hears, or feels anymore. Who else could be in danger because of her? A brief, dark thought of something similar happening to Randal causes her to curl up a bit. She takes the tissues and dries her face before more tears come. "Oh no...maybe his mom should be notified, too? I don't know her number."

The nurse seems satisfied that her patient isn't in need of any immediate care. At least not of the physical sort. "Don't you worry too much. Everyone he had wanted notified's been notified, honey. I'm sure they can let other folks know as needed. You're welcome to wait out here," she gestures to the waiting room, "but it might be a spell. The doctors here know their stuff; they don't cut no corners."

"That's...that's real efficient," Grimm murmurs. "I guess he has a file already here." Only a mile long one. She rubs her face again. "Thanks. I'll wait for now until someone from his family shows," she murmurs, getting up. It's only when she tries to stand that she realizes how shaky she still is.

The nurse knows her stuff, too, and already has a hand on Grimm's arm to steady her. "We'll just take it easy and get you sat down slow, alright?" She aided her here and can aid her to a new seat now that she's mostly cleaned up.

Some stains don't come out of clothes easily, but black covers a lot. Grimm plunks down in a seat, still wearing her dark grey pajama pants and black long sleeved shirt, trying to keep calm and not break down.

"Now you just rest right there, honey," the nurse assures and comforts. "They'll be sure to let you know right away when there's news." She gives Grimm's shoulder a pat and heads out.

She might not even need to wait long, as things in the other room seem to be less frantic. Until they aren't and people are rushing around again. Other than the movement of bodies around, the only other thing for her to key on is Porter's mental presence (since he isn't exactly moving much; even the rise and fall of his chest may be not much of his own accord). It flitters out; activity increases. After it winks back to a dim flickering; things calm down a little. Repeat.

Grimm draws her feet up to her chest and rests her forehead against her knees, shutting down to what's going on around her and just focusing on Porter's mental presence and the breathing. It's...something. And it's all she can hang on to for the moment while the rest of the world around her goes quiet in her mind. She waits, afraid to move, to look, to do anything else.

On the bright side... at least her shadowy senses don't include the annoying beeping or long, droning pitched tones of beeps not beeping? There's probably a few of those. It's a little touch and go... with added speedbumps on the runway, even. It becomes almost rhythmic and some points. Like a heartbeat, though its less THWUMP THWUMP pause THWUMP TWHUMP and more YES MAYBE pause MAYBE YES? Eventually, at some point, things seem to stabilize into a reasonably firm MAYBE. At least enough that machines are trusted. The doctors managing to stuff insides back in from outside where necessary may have helped. As do stitches, staples, gauze, and probably a fair amount of tape. The bubblegum and bailing wire may be on standby.

Grimm tries not to focus on the gooey details, but it's hard not to notice. It makes her insides churn, but in a different way from his. She huddles and hides her head, holding her breath at the maybes from time to time, her own heart sinking until there's another beat. When it stabilizes, she still doesn't relax, but at least her breathing becomes steady.

Porter would rather not focus on the gooey details, either. Mostly since it's his ...goo. Fortunately(?) for him, he's not exactly conscious to focus on them. Maybe he's even having some good dreams? The lack of frantic activity around him could be reassuring in this sense, though when one goes to pull a blanket up to his chest that may cause some momentary concern from potential peepers.

Grimm lifts her head from her knees when she feels the blanket getting pulled up. Just so long as it's up to his chest and not over his head. She tries to feel for those beats in his chest.

Nope. Just to his chest. Porter also gets himself carted off to the ICU. Which is better than the cold storage in the basement. Sadly, cuddling hours are probably very limited, if allowed at all. And everyone could probably -really- use them about now.

Grimm lets out a soft sigh as he's carted to the ICU and not to the basement. Her red-rimmed eyes stare at the ground. She promised she'd never hurt him, or anyone else undeserving or otherwise. Things have gone too far. She can't control it anymore. Maybe Connor's vision interpretation and the nightmare she had were right all along.

Dark energy sweeps around Gabrielle to teleport her away. It's time to go find Charity. The real one.

Next: Log:A Conflict of Interest