2020-01-10 - I Told You So

It turns out Alexander was totally right about using psychometry on Alice Whitehouse's book. August had been prepared for a lot of things, but not that. Not that.

Fortunately, there was Eleanor, and bath bombs, and he didn't break anything this time. Maybe his control was getting a little better. (Or maybe Eleanor had been a stabilizing force...something to consider at another time.)

For now, he's feeling a bit better, if still a little twitchy from what the book showed him. He's texted Alexander to come on over and collect it, as well as his medical records to hand off to someone who can hopefully compare them against the new MRI he'll have in a couple of days. The records are a series of manilla envelopes in a Post Office priorty flat rate box, and the paperback sits on the counter next to them. It looks to be your standard bodice ripper: clean shaven, muscular, dark haired man on the cover, naked save for a broadsword held point down in front of him in a strategic spot and a title is in an overly ornate font and only just readable (A KNIGHT IN SHINING ARMOR).

He's dressed in dark gray commuter pants, a dark purple, slub t-shirt, a black hoodie, and hard soled slippers, and is drinking some tea. First a Dream, then the damned book. He definitely needed that bath.

Alexander arrives promptly - or at least as promptly as a man can, walking through winter sludge. He's moving differently than he was before, his back stiff and careful, although it doesn't stop him from doing his best to clean off his boots before tromping into Eleanor's house. He looks underslept and haggard and dressed in layers of clothing that would be proud to be called cast-offs - so pretty normal. There's even a faint smile for August once he's been let in. "Hey. How are things?" His gaze sweeps the room like he's going to be quizzed on it, but when he notes the trashy romance, he studies it for a long moment, before nodding.

His attention returns to August, and he waits, semi-patiently, for August to let him know how things are. While staring at the man like he might bore a hole through him with his eyes.

August sips from his tea, makes a face. "They...are." He rubs at his eyes. "Got yanked Over by a kid's crazy Dream earlier. Everyone was fine, but..." But, he could do without cities being destroyed all around him. He's had his fill, both real and constructed for torment. That well is dry. "Everyone was okay, though, and Mothra saved us. So I guess it wasn't as bad as it could have been."

He sets his hand on the medical records. "My records, for comparing against my new MRI. I get it next week." He sips from his tea. "If you have someone in the know who can have a look, they might spot something a mundane doctor won't. And," now he rests a hand on the book. He stops, seems to sag. "I'm sorry, Alexander. I think Violet...might be dead."

Alexander's eyebrows go up. "Mothra?" A long pause while he thinks about something. "That's one of the giant monsters from that movie, right? Usually the giant monsters don't save people - but I'm glad it did in this case." He scans the man for injuries, despite his claim of everyone being okay. "Who was everyone? Eleanor?" A glance around the house again, even as he moves closer to examine the medical records that August is indicating. "All right. I'll take them to Yule. I'm meeting him to exchange some other evidence, anyway."

There's a flicker in his eyes as August's hand transfers to the book. When the older man sags, Alexander frowns, and one hand twitches out, as if he wanted to touch, but has restrained himself. There's a slow, deep breath when August speaks. "I know. If she was alive, she'd be back here. Or she'd be with Alice, instead of this Megan person." He swallows, hard. His voice is thick. "How? Is it in the book?"

"Apparently that's Mothra's deal, she's humanity's protector." August shrugs, only just being introduced to this via Eleanor, so he's not clear on the details himself. "No, ah--de Santos, Finch, Cavanaugh, and...one of the women who was with us that day the elves attacked. The one who beat feet." So, she's still alive and hanging in there. A good thing. "And the kid who was the center of it. Like you--real bright, strong mind power. We might need to keep an eye on him."

He nods about the medical records, looks back down at the book. "Christ, I'm sorry. I was hoping it wouldn't turn out like that." He grimaces, pushes the book towards Alexander. He opens the front cover so Alexander can see, as he'd expected, 'PROPERTY OF ALICE WHITEHOUSE'.

"I think it...might have been suicide." He admits this with a wince. "I didn't see it happen, just Alice finding her. And there was a lot of blood. A lot. But she wasn't marked up or anything. Alice was asking her to wake up, asking her why." Hence the educated guess.

The investigator rubs wearily at his face. "They've recovered from the snow, then? de Santos and Finch, I mean. And I need to talk with Cavanaugh. Apologize, at least." Alexander's voice lacks emotion; it's just items on a to do list while he processes what else August has told him. There's the smallest flicker of amusement. "People don't generally like when I approach children, August. For some reason."

Then he falls silent for a long time. Long enough that one might be forgiven for wondering if he hasn't just zoned out completely. He doesn't even blink, until he says, "No." A shake of his head. "I don't think Violet would commit suicide. She'd lived in a town that fucking hated her, with a father who thought she was the devil's own child - and told anyone who cared to listen about it - and wanted so badly to see her sister again. Even if Alejandro was dead, and he must be or he would have been with her, I don't think she'd take her own life while Alice was there. And in my book, Alice saw her being tortured. Somehow. There was so much...pain."

"Mostly," August says of Finch and Ignacio's recovery. "I think Ignacio's still rattled by it. And his power's growing quickly. He's like you, really strong with," he taps his temple, "not so much with the rest." It's not precisely a suggestion Alexander consider talking to Ignacio, but it's not not one either. He snorts about Alexander approaching children. "Point taken. But there's others who can, like Minerva. And she's like him too, so."

He listens to Alexander's explanation of Violet with an absent expression, eyes on his tea. Presently he nods. "Could easily have been torture too. I didn't get a really good look at her, specifically, so she could have had injuries I couldn't see." Alexander mentions 'Alejandro', and August tips his head. "Didn't see anyone else," he says after a time. "Someone was coming, so Alice picked up Violet and took off." A grimace and a nod. "Grief and anger, in this one. Just, an abundance of it." He rubs at his forehead. "It got me thinking, though. What if this is a way to bring memories out of that Asylum, without hurting ourselves?"

"Anyone would be," Alexander points out. "Rattled. To be helpless and hunted, especially when your body already resists doing what you want it to do? I suspect it was a nightmare for him more than for most of us." He nods, briefly, to the mention of Minerva, then stares at August for a long moment. Before there's a sigh. "Give me his damned number. I don't think he likes me. I'm not sure I like him. But I'll reach out."

The rest gets a shrug, then a wince, and he shifts his stance to try to find a more comfortable way to stand. "Alejandro wasn't in mine, either. I believe he must be dead. I don't think he'd leave Violet to find her way alone." His eyes narrow, slightly. "...you're thinking of trying to put memory and resonance into objects while in the Asylum, then 'reading' them to retrieve those memories?" A pause. "I've never tried to put a memory on anything, on purpose, August. It takes a high emotional resonance for something to leave an impression. I don't know that you can force it."

August has a sip of his tea. Well, he can't disagree with that. He nods at Alexander, has the grace to not look smug about his success at suggesting Alexander maybe try to help Ignacio. After all, August's other options are Byron (ha), Ruiz (awkward), Minerva (maybe?). Possibly that one guy...Tobias? Something. Or Rebecca. It's not a big list. "Thank you. And it's okay if you don't like one another. To be honest, that might even help."

He shrugs. "I've gotten mild resonances before. It mostly depends on how lucky I get, and how much noise is on the object. So maybe if you bring something with you and remember to touch it frequently, or wear it--a watch, a necklace--that might do the trick." He arches an eyebrow. "Worth a shot, if nothing else. It worked with these books, after all."

He makes a low sound about Alejandro. "I saw Ruiz said he came back with a book too. Think that'll have more for you?"

Alexander looks...skeptical. But also resigned. "I'll reach out to him in the next couple of days. I make no promises other than that." He hesitates, but nods his head at the rest. "If we ever go back. If we were ever really there in the first place. I think we were. But how do I know?" He stops himself before his breath can do more than hitch, his pulse quickening to a distressed little march. "But if we are there. It can't hurt. But the books, they might be different. I don't know that they were present at these events. I get the feeling from mine that it's a story that wants to be told. Somehow. Things that stay over in the Veil turn strange."

At the mention of Ruiz, Alexander's lips thin. "Yes." He looks down at his hands. "If he gives it to me. He said I was 'goddamned nosy' and then stopped responding to my e-mails." Hurt and anger both flash across the investigator's tired features, but neither seem to have enough heat or strength to burn for long.

"I think we had to have been." August can't bring himself to sound totally convinced, and yet, he can't think of any other explanation for the book or what it's shown him, or why he would go to, of all the places, the Addington Memorial Morgue. That is literally the last place August would go in a hospital, provided you could get him in there. (And, well, Easton had, somehow.)

He mmmms, nods. "Yeah--I told you about the books, right? From the Whisper Memorial Library? Ellie and I even got library cards. Those books were definitely weird."

A frown, though, for that news about Ruiz, tinged with sympathy. Well, it was too much to hope they'd sorted out their issues. "Do you want me to ask him? I was going to have a look at his new place, make sure none of his trees are acting stupid under his property. Good a reason as any to chat about that trip."

"I agree. I just don't like not knowing. But we weren't injured. And all of us came back. So my two greatest fears were addressed. We didn't die, and we didn't leave anyone behind in that place." He reaches out for the Knight book, turning it over in his hand and opening it to a random page. His lips twitch. "She felt herself pulse, deep in that womanly cavern that she'd rarely thought of, when he looked at her like that and pulled her close to his hard, strong body..." A shake of his head. "I'm sort of glad I don't have to read the whole thing to read it." He closes the book again, turns his attention back to August, and nods. "Harper mentioned weird books too, at one point. Lost books from a library Over There." A pause. "How do you get there to use the library?"

A hesitation, then a shake of his head. "No. I'll go see him. Isabella told me that he'd moved into a new place. Got out of the hotel. That's nice. Hotels are hard, when you're," he taps his temple with the book. "And if he doesn't know that Sutton left - which he probably does - I should tell him. Not over text."

"Yeah. The not knowing's kind of...rude." A corner of August's mouth turns down in an annoyed half-grimace. "And since we did come back okay, I have to wonder what the point of us forgetting is. Or of anyone else who was there. Is it protecting itself, or us? And from what?"

He chokes on a laugh at the passage Alexander reads. "Eleanor was amusing herself with bits of it earlier." He doesn't seem to recognize Harper's name, but he says, "A portal just, opened, and sucked us in." He pulls a face. "Half-dressed. Apparently the books were overdue. They were just happy to get them back, though. I think if we step across around the local library, here, we wind up there." He considers that. "I think."

A low sigh. "Yeah don't I know it," he says, of hotels. A nod for the rest, to which he adds, "Yeah, maybe a couple of miles from me. So, you know, if you feel like stopping by on the way there or back, let me know." Hidden in there is an unspoken invitation to chill at August's cabin if the interaction with Ruiz is not...easy, let's say.

"It's always protected itself. Over there. Things go hazy and wrong when you get away from Gray Harbor. People can't remember what happened. But it doesn't usually affect us, if we stand out. And it affects everyone - patients and staff both. I don't know why, but it certainly feels like a deliberate thing. And it has to be something automatic, I'd think. Or that could be forced on us. I don't imagine all of us agreeing to be mindwiped." Alexander wasn't likely to agree to be mind wiped at all, under any circumstances, but it's the fact that all of them seem to be in the same dire straits that bothers him.

He grins, though, brief and bright at August's choked laugh. "I guess you take what you can get, under the circumstances." Then he waggles the book in his hand. "But how did it get there? Violet," a hesitation, a pause to swallow, "Violet never said anything about being able to visit her, or mail care packages. But the, uh, theme across the books suggests that they were deliberately chosen, not just dumped randomly. So there must be a supply chain. People must come back and forth, and supplies - food, water, medicine at least - have to go over there." He shakes his head. "But without a name or an account or something, I don't know how I'd track it."

"But...thanks. For the offer." He smiles. "Are you going back? I know the worst of the snow has cleared, the winter is nasty. You might not get snowed in up there, but the roads can still be treacherous."

"Yeah, no I wouldn't agree to that, not ever. Not even..." Not even if it was bad. Not even if it was like Bosnia.

He fingers his mug of tea, lets it go unsaid. "We are what we've been through. For better or worse. Forgetting stuff makes us someone else." Which, come to it, is why it bothers August so much. He nods about the automation of the process. "Right--I'd expect staff wouldn't forget, if so. But if they're getting deliveries and you can't track them, well, maybe that also speaks to the forgetting. You drive a truck somewhere, sign off on the delivery, and," he flicks open a hand, "poof. You forget, but your bottom line checks out so you don't wonder about it. And for that matter, why would they let these books get out? Once Alice was gone, presumably they'd get rid of her things. But here we are, with her books. So obviously there's something working against that same mechanism." Here they were, at the center of a struggle of wills; one wanting a story told, one wanting it forgotten. No wonder remembering hurt their own minds.

He leaves off that for the moment. "You're welcome," he says. "And, I've been going back and forth. There's a woman who lives at one end of the road, she has a tractor. And the car's all wheel, stick, with a winch and a turbo, so." A rally car, made for nasty roads. That's why he bought it, after all.

There's a single nod. On that point, the two men can find complete agreement.

"I don't know that it happens immediately. Like. Maybe it did for us?" Alexander gestures in the air, "Because maybe we didn't have a lot of experiences. There. But if you've lived or worked there for a long time, maybe it takes longer for the total forgetting to set in. So a doctor or a supplier could take a day away, to buy or refill something, and not forget. But if they were gone for a week?" He shakes his head. "Maybe that's different. Same with patients. Maybe it fades. Quickly, but not cleanly."

To the rest, he says, "It's up to you, of course. Just remember to check in with someone if you're staying up there, okay? Keep us informed so that we don't find an Augustpop come spring." He reaches out for the medical records, tucks them in with the book as he stands. "Not my favorite flavor. I should probably head out. But thanks, for the book. If I can get Javier's, I'll keep you updated on what I find. And we should all meet about Peregrine. At some point."

"Mmmm, good point. And, anyone who's been there, well, by now they might have lost it all, and may not remember that they knew more." August rubs his eyes. "So fucking frustrating," he mutters.

He laughs, nods. "Oh, don't worry, I won't go up there without checking in with Ellie on the regular, to say nothing of the shop." His smile turns sly at the notion of Alexander's favorite flavor. "Well how do you know until you've tried?" A bob of his eyebrows, then he sobers. "You're welcome. And, yeah, we should. Just let me know when and where. Itzhak should be back soon from his trip, so either he or Easton could take us across at that house you found."

"You got that right," Alexander admits to the frustration, his voice sour. "But every little bit of knowledge we can hold onto is something, even if it's not directly useful." Then he laughs at the sly look, his own eyebrows going up. "I'm not sure who would murder us first - Isabella and Eleanor might even agree to share the pleasure. Of murder. Not of Augustpop." A thoughtful pause. "Although that has its appeal too, I guess." He winks at the man. "Anyway, don't die, and tell Eleanor that I said hi." He rearranges his materials, then makes his way towards the door, to let himself out with as little escape of heat from the cozy house as possible.

That sly smile returns. "It does have its appeal, but I doubt they'd be up for it," August admits. Not with any longing or regret, just a simple statement of facts. Well, they can't exactly complain too much, look who they're with. He shows Alexander to the door, saying, "I won't, and, I will. Take care, Alexander."