2020-05-18 - Search and Rescue

For someone who has yet to decide whether to teach at Oxford, Isabella's routine in the day is largely unchanged save for the additional burden of more professional work - her presentation in her conference had put her enough in a few other academics' radars that her smartphone has done nothing but ring ever since she arrived from Portland following her two-week stint. As a result, the amount of books on the subject in Alexander's house has only tripled ever since she started living there, a small pile next to the coffee table, and while she does attempt to put it away after she's found her references, there's only so much one can do without a bookshelf.

They're still there whenever Alexander returns to 13 Elm, and an hour or two after, Isabella returns from the library, with more books. After stripping herself of her jacket and sneakers, and setting her new load down on her growing pile, she moves over towards the investigator on the couch, gives him an enthusiastic kiss, and pesters him to read to her from the Flame and the Flower, mischief in her eyes - clearly less for the smut, and more because most purple fiction is decidedly terrible, but somehow palatable when he narrates with his very pleasant baritone. She settles against him, and it isn't long until she's lulled in a state that straddles between awake and napping.

"I should make some coffee," she tells him, drowsily...up until he gets to one of the more ridiculous plot points, which widens her eyes. "No, she what?"

Alexander was, maybe, planning to settle in with a small stack of nice books on corpse decomposition, but he seems pretty willing to have an Isabella leaning against him while he reads terrible romance fiction, instead. There was a bout of texting in there at some point, but since it didn't seem relevant that Ruiz was planning to drop by, he pretty much forgot to mention it as he instead talks in detail about heaving bosoms and dark, wickedly handsome sultans who are obsessed with them. "Coffee sounds nice," he agrees. "Make enough for a few people? Ruiz is coming over, and I think he mentioned August."

Alexander could work on his timing.

August arrives, looking not unlike he did while recovering from the flu: dark purple slub tee, dark gray commuter pants, black hoodie, simple black deck shoes. He's got dark circles under his eyes, and his hair is...well, he seems to have brushed it, at least.

But most easily noticed is that he's faded. Like Isabella, his Glimmer is eclipsed, a hooded lantern or a full moon covered by heavy, dark clouds. Maybe to offset this, he's brought some pear cider and a box of garden veggies. Surely no one will notice he looks like this if they're unpacking sweet onions, fiddleheads, peas, rhubarb, and artichokes. Right?

He knocks on the door, grimly resolved against the upcoming wave of judgment.

At this point, his terrible timing is part of his charm. Amusement plays over her sunkissed mien as she regards him with a tip of her head. "It's either important since he doesn't usually make house calls this often, or he's hovering," Isabella replies. "Should I be worried?" She removes herself from her lean, stretching her arms over her head and hearing the pop-pop-pop of tired joints stretch into their sockets. There's an overt reluctance in the way she pries herself away from him, to get up on socked feet so she can pad towards the kitchen.

There's the sound of the coffee grinder working somewhere in the kitchen, a double batch of her nicer beans before she dumps it in the canister set aside for precisely this purpose. And then she's working the blue French press, smiling when she takes it up in her hand and visibly pleased that not only did Alexander keep it, but has seen a tremendous amount of use since. It's the first thing she ever gave him.

Someone's at the door, but as she's busy making coffee, she lets Alexander get it.

Surely Isabella won't mind having the house invaded by a cranky Mexican on a moment's notice, will she? Even if he didn't bring churros this time. "Roen, hey," greets the cop as he prowls on up the walk to find August already waiting there. The guy across the street who's leaving his house recognises the captain, and doesn't look too happy to see him here. The look's ignored by the cop, who glances at his watch and leans in to knock again.

When the knocks happen, Alexander rises to his feet and pads to the door. He checks who it is, of course, which means he's scowling at August from the second his face can be seen. "You stupid sonofabitch," is how he greets the poor combat botanist. He opens the door wider, and jerks his thumb to the inside. "Get in here. Both of you. You did it, didn't you? Why the fuck?" Ruiz gets an equal glare, until he's quite sure that Ruiz still stands out in the right way.

August half-turns when he hears Ruiz, gives him a once-over. No doubt checking to make sure he still looks undiminished, or maybe that he's not hurt. He relaxes once he's sure neither of those two things seem to be going on. "Hey. You alright?"

But that's when Alexander opens the door. August's mouth flattens. He doesn't look away, though, taking his chastisement like an adult. "Yeah it's definitely up there in my dumbest decisions collection," he admits. "But, she made a compelling argument, and I was low on sleep. Those are my reasons, take 'em or leave 'em." He's sure it'll be 'leave 'em'.

He comes in, cuts Ruiz a sidelong glance of 'see what you missed out on by not getting your memories back?'.

The scent of coffee is in the air when Isabella emerges from the kitchen with a tray, the full French press on top and a few mugs. There's no rhyme nor reason in the collective - it's no matching set. The young woman's is clearly visible, and obvious, because it's got something written on it: Hold On, Let Me Overthink This

She is setting it down on the coffee table in the living room, her smile ready on her face - which dies immediately when August enters. "August, what the hell? Half the reason why I threw myself on the altar was so nobody else had to," she exclaims. There's no real heat, because she was the first to do it anyway after a warning, but there's a concerned expression to her fellow field researcher and the police captain that follows. "Are you both alright? I made some coffee."

Nope, de la Vega doesn't look diminished. Doesn't look hurt, either. There is however, something different about him. Something.. well, familiar. Like an engine running a little too hot. Like what used to be a bonfire confined to the core of him, now a conflagration seeping from every pore; heat become electricity, the magnetic flux field that held his power, fragmented somehow. As if he's become some sort of superconductive material, able to channel far greater power than he was prior.

"I'm fine," he tells August, a little abstractedly. Dark eyes narrowed at the man as he steps inside, and moves immediately for Alexander's coffee table. He's carrying what looks like a woman's bag in his left hand; it's dumped atop the table, along with a scribbled note. "Si, por favor," he murmurs with a brief cut of his eyes toward Isabella. "Coffee sounds great, actually."

"She's an empath. Of course she's compelling when she wants to be," Alexander points out in a low, grumbly sort of voice. "Sit down. You look like shit." He closes and locks the door behind them, and rolls his eyes towards Isabella. "Like that was ever gonna stop anyone. You. August. Easton. I could strangle you all right now, if I wouldn't miss you when you were dead." His gaze shifts back to Ruiz, and his eyes narrow. "And you've done something, too." But hey! There's a mysterious bag and mysterious note, and Alexander is immediately distracted. He moves to the table to look at what's been put there. "Murder? Missing person?" There's a hopeful lilt to his voice.

August gives Isabella a sheepish look for half a second. Then his eyes narrow. "Mmmkay, Ms. 'I forced myself to remember the clock'." He bobs his eyebrows at her once, in a 'don't make me list all the dumb shit you've done against the dumb shit I've done, we'll be here all night' gesture. Alexander's further grousing makes him relent. "Yeah, I know. Ellie took care of me, so at least the migraine's fucked off."

Trust Ruiz to save August by bringing murder or likewise and shaking it in front of Alexander like a bad of treats. August moves to the kitchen to set down the cider and box of veggies, breathes in the scent of coffee with a smile. "Coffee's great."

His attention snaps back to Ruiz when Alexander says that. He narrows his eyes, examining the de la Vega. "Yeah. You're...overclocked, kinda." He tilts his head, holds off from a less subtle examination to see if Ruiz has anything to say about it.

It's Ruiz's change that ensnares her attention immediately - startled, followed by more concern, because nothing about his present state looks stable. There's a glance down at the woman's bag and the scribbled note, before she picks up the French press and starts pouring it into all of the mugs. "What happened, Javier?" Isabella asks quietly - if there's lingering tension due to certain unresolved matters, there's no sign. There is, however, a very deliberate deposit of a cup of coffee in his waiting hands.

Alexander's low grouse earns him, of all things, a press of her lips against his cheek once he's by the table before she hands him a cup of coffee. "Let's not throw stones at glass houses," she tells him in a sing-song voice; at least no amount of chastisement can ever keep down her more mischievous behaviors for long. August has her leaning her shoulder against his, nudging gently - she hasn't seen him in a while, though they've corresponded by texts - and hands him a mug.

She fills her own after and picks it up.

The cop's hands might just be shaking slightly, before they're taken up by the mug of coffee so graciously provided by Isabella. There's a murmured gracias out of the corner of his mouth, and a sip, before he reaches out to nudge the bag closer to Alexander. "It's hers." Megan's. Does he need to spell it out? "I haven't read it yet. Thought you might want the honours." Another sip, and he shifts slightly to pluck the note off the table and turn it over, brows stitching together. "This was left behind by the men who took her." Which is the first he's mentioned of that. "From the hotel she was staying at." Well then.

"There were six of them. I tried to stop them, but I only managed to disable one of them, and his fucking friends hauled him off." The note's dropped, and he makes a disgusted sound in his throat. Six guys and not a scratch on him, though. Except the fact that he's running too hot. That part isn't explained. However, "Did you seriously fucking take her deal, Roen?"

On the note, the following words are scribbled: sun hosp, mon [scribbles unreadable], tue bb

Alexander, who had already been reaching for the bag, snatches his hand back at the mention of who it belongs to. His eyes flicker up to Ruiz. Then back down to the bag. His lips tighten. "I suppose you think we should go and get her back?" he asks, a bit wearily. Which isn't a 'no, not gonna', but he does stand up and go to the office, returning with a pair of gloves. He pulls them on with practiced ease, and starts taking everything out of the bag, lining it up with precision on the table. The note is picked up, then he grunts and says, "A list of doors and days so that they can get back? The Asylum? BB - bed and breakfast, maybe?" He moves to put it where August and Isabella can see, giving the latter the briefest of smiles. "Dum spiro spero," he mutters to her.

August returns Isabella's shoulder bump, chases it with a wane, wry smile. "Thanks," he murmurs, and hovers his face in the steam from the coffee for several seconds before having a sip.

He moves to watch Ruiz explain the bag, eyes the note. "The Goose burned down, don't think we've got another one in town anymore. Maybe it's a spot outside the city? Down in Hoquaim?" He frowns. "And I thought Ruby said it only moves every thirteen days, so that seems like too many different doors."

Normally he'd offer to read some of it, but that's not going to be much use now. Ruiz, with his supercharged self, and Alexander will have to take care of it. "Iiiii did," he says. "You can thank me later, because I remembered something which might be useful." He looks up between the three of them. "How we got from Reception to the patient rec area."

Her lips press together at watching Javier's hands shake, though she doesn't impose upon him any further. There's a quiet nod at his thanks, before she eases the tray aside to give Alexander more room in the coffee table to work now that the mugs are taken up and the French press is empty. A quiet tilt of her head remains at the fluttered note, though her lover retrieves it first. When shown, she reads it, though there's a grin at the man's quiet, muttered Latin. "Ad astra per aspera, my love," she tells him softly.

As Alexander goes on full forensics examiner mode, Isabella takes a quiet sip of her coffee. There's a long silence from her, but everyone in the room can practically hear the gears of her mind grinding. "I think so," she tells Alexander. "And I think it's a schedule for when we can access the Asylum, maybe. I'm taking a few guesses based on what we have, so bear with me. Sun - hosp, so Sundays at the hospital, maybe. We entered the Asylum through the Reception area when we visited the morgue that night. So I think it means that we can get to the Asylum through the Reception area, but only on a Sunday." She pauses. "I remember the clock more vividly, the six o'clock mark is labeled Reception Key, so maybe it means if we go through the Door in the hospital's morgue on six o'clock on Sunday night, we'll be able to access the reception area of the Asylum."

She squints at the rest of the note. "Monday....I can't make it out. But Tuesday BB probably means Tuesday - Bar Basement. As in the door in Two If By Sea. It parses with what Easton remembers, when his uncle took him down there and said that he could get to his office through there, but only on a Tuesday. So maybe we could get to Dr. Marshall's old office through that Door on a Tuesday. The Bar Basement's position on the clock..." She furrows her brows to remember. "...was on the eight o'clock mark, though I don't know if it's eight o'clock in the morning, or eight o'clock at night. Easton suggested in the morning based from common sense - the Two if By Sea was always a bar, and there are indications that Dr. Marshall wanted to keep the fact that it was there a secret, and it would be hard to go down there surreptitiously at night with so many customers. I think it makes sense."

Javier, meanwhile, is busy digging his thumb and forefinger into his temples, trying to drive out the headache that's taken up stubborn residence there ever since Megan gave him back his memories. Memories he hasn't yet breathed a word of. The sound of her voice beats a dull refrain just under the thrum of conversation around him, and he squeezes his eyes shut as he sees again in blinding detail his synapses fraying and splitting and forming new connections and lighting up, again and again and again.

"I can't believe I'm fucking saying this," he tells Alexander, "But yeah. I do." Think they should go rescue Megan. "And yeah," he murmurs, a nod toward Isabella as her voice swims back into the foreground, drowns out the rest of it for the time being. "Yeah, yeah, I think you're onto something." He dimples her a grin, settles onto the edge of the couch with his knees sprawled apart and the coffee cup cradled in his big hands. "Got one more thing to show you. I don't know if any of it's helpful, but.." If any of them are receptive, they'll feel the distinctive heat and weight of his mind pushing its way in with a request to share something.

"Do we wanna, though?" Alexander mutters quietly, more to himself than any of the others. He sighs and lets his fingers trail along the bag. The gloves don't matter; he doesn't even have to touch it, but he does feel like he has to make the motion, somehow. He feels the press of Ruiz's mind on his, and holds off on the read for just a moment. "Bar basement. Yeah, that makes sense," he says, with a smile and nod to Isabella. His mind opens easily to Ruiz, trusting the man to tread - if not lightly, then at least with no ill intent.

"Bar basement," August echoes. He eyes the scribbles after 'mon', wishing they had any hope of sorting them out.

He glances at Alexander, expression turning sympathetic. Much as he'd be willing to help get Megan back out, he can't fault Alexander for not wanting to. Hell, August himself had been of half a mind to smack her inner ear and send her packing when he first found out about her. Look at him now! What a difference two weeks makes.

His allows the contact from Ruiz without hesitation, though the fading from Megan can't be more obvious, here: he's all darkness and shadows, nearly impossible to see, mindvoice the faint murmur of a stream instead of the roar of a river.

"Well, that was always the question from the beginning," Isabella tells Alexander - if they do go, why would they go? She eases down next to where Alexander's hunched over. With Javier insisting that they rescue Megan, though, her lips press together. "Do you have any idea who took her? Any indication where?"

The weight of Javier's psychic insistence gives her pause, but she quietly lowers down her defenses to let him enter, exchanging a quiet glance with the investigator while doing. He's normally more closed off than this, regarding information - illustrative of how serious the ordeal had actually been.

His mind is as it always is, de la Vega's; brutal and animalistic, hot and sharp with a scent like a fresh electrical fire slamming through open circuits. No words from the man, no feelings, no thoughts; his mind itself is cloistered away. Only something akin to a recording played back, as if they're seated in a movie theatre.

A white van, and a conversation taking place between the driver and the passenger:

"That's why they sent us."
"Yeah, but we could use someone like she is, don't you think?"
"No, I don't think, you dumbass. Remember what happened to Frank when he went after the other one? He's been drooling ever since."
"Yeah, well - "
"Oh shit oh shit oh shit, who's that? Who is that? Fuck fuck fuck - get out, get out, assholes. God dammit, if she gets away again, you assholes are gonna have to tell the Doctor, 'cause I'm not doing that shit again."

Then the van doors rush open, and all of these guys pile out. The memory blips out- and the link is severed abruptly, almost painfully.

"Ugh," Alexander mutters at Ruiz's insistence. "Fine," he says, at last. "But if she tries to feed me to the Dark Men again, I'm going to say 'I told you so' in between the screams." And then there's that vision, answering Isabella's question before he can speculate, and he closes his eyes to let himself feel it and remember it. "I see. Definitely the Asylum. And the other one was probably Alice. Well." A long pause. "The Doctor is supposed to be a psychopath. We can't let him have someone. Even a bad someone." So he reaches for the purse and gives it a read.

August watches the memory, peering at it from all angles, memorizing the details. Then he's being kicked out. He lists a bit, catches himself on the table and shakes his head. "What exactly is going on with you," he asks Ruiz, pinching the bridge of his nose. He peers at Alexander, nods once that it sure sounds like they mean Alice. But then who's 'we', if not the Asylum? Subcontractors? And the Doctor, again...

"Considering what she tried to do to you, that's fair," he asides. "But we have to be careful, about anything we do to that place. Who knows what damaging or destroying it'll do to anyone who's been a patient there."

There's a nod to August, considering they just talked about that in texts a couple of days ago. Isabella, however, narrows her eyes when Alexander reminds everyone else about Megan's old allegiances. "That's not going to happen," she says; her voice is a low seethe.

Mention of the Doctor doesn't elicit any more surprise on her features. "Considering that both Megan and Alice seem to think the Doctor's the devil incarnate, it's not too much of a stretch that he's going to try and get them back." She falls silent when the investigator reaches over to start reading the purse, her expression tightening faintly. She tries to loosen her sudden fists; always, whenever he's about to read something associated with the dark or violence.

"I talked to Joe the other day," she tells her other companions. "About maybe coming with us. He says he remembers how that place operates, the rotations...everything. He also told me about what....they did to him, while he was there." Her face darkens further. "The Vivisectionist was with him with Dr. Marshall during some of his procedures. I always wondered - I speculated to Alexander before, that maybe due to what she deals with that she'd have some involvement with the place. So whatever data she managed to collect experimenting with people in the Asylum and...everywhere else, we can assume the Doctor probably has some of it."

Ruiz lifts his eyes from his mug of coffee, to August, when the man asks what exactly is going on with him. A slight stoop of his brows, then a sip taken and swallowed. "What do you mean?" It seems to be taking some effort to focus on the sounds of peoples' voices. The conversation going on around him, rather than remembering again and again and again the screaming of neurons rewiring themselves inside his head like someone performing surgery on his brain while awake.

Inside the bag, a few changes of clothing. Ninety-seven dollars in cash. That's it.

Then Isabella has to mention Joe, and the cop goes all.. brittle and agitated looking. A sliver of tension makes its way through his jaw. "I know-" he interrupts her tautly. "I know what happened to him. I'm not sure if.." A flash of his upper lip over his teeth, brief. "I'm not sure if him coming is a good idea."

"He means that you look like you took speed, but for your abilities," Alexander points out, bluntly. "And this Cavanaugh person was a patient there for much longer. He's likely to know things that we'll need to know over there. If he's willing--" He pauses. "Look, Javier. I know you care about the guy. But sometimes you have to let the people you love do stupid things, even if you think it's a bad idea." He eyes Isabella. EYES. And then leans over and brushes his lips across her temple, briefly. "Right?" He leans back, and touches the purse again. "Not much. To have a life here."

"So between Joe and Isabella and myself," August pulls a face, "and Easton," oh yes, he caught that, "we should be able to navigate it with some efficiency."

He squints at Ruiz, which becomes a frown at the reaction to mention of Joe. That in turn moves to a rueful smile for letting people do dumb things. Well it's not like de la Vega wouldn't know that, he is with Itzhak. "You're...like...it's like you described Megan to me. Turbocharged. Amped up." He snaps his fingers, points at Alexander. "That." He sets down the coffee mug. "Mind if I check? See if those guys you ran into did something to you that you didn't notice?"

"It's fine, Javier. Sometimes it's the only way," Isabella says, in perfect agreement with Alexander there, because he's not a bastion of perpetually sane action, either, and he knows it. There's a smile directed the investigator's way as he eyes her, cheek dimpling at the broadness of her smile when he presses a kiss on her temple. "You know, the more you keep reminding me, the more I'm going to remember this," she tells him quietly, fingers lifting to touch his cheek, before taking another sip of her coffee.

Brows lift when August offers to check Ruiz. "I think it's a good idea," she poses quietly. "That much...even with what we have, it takes a toll." She doesn't have to describe further than that, everyone in this room knows that's true.

Trust Alexander to just come out and say what's on his mind. Javier makes a face at him like, what the fuck, man? Never mind he's every bit as tactless as the investigator, with the added bonus of f-bombs sprinkled throughout his speech like landmines. Then as everyone basically tells him to suck it up, buttercup, where Joe's concerned, he huffs a breath through his nose and eyes the lot of them with some irritation. "If Cavanaugh goes, I go," he observes flatly. They can try arguing him down from that, but the man's stubborn as an ox.

August's offer has him hesitating a moment, then glancing back down to his coffee mug and confiding quietly, "It wasn't them. It was Megan."

"I don't expect you to forget it," Alexander tells Isabella, solemnly. He makes a supportive sound at August's offer to check Ruiz out. "Just let me point out that you people keep letting a murderous Mentalist with unknown capabilities mess with your fucking minds, and it is a bad idea." There's a shrug to Ruiz's ultimatum; he clearly has no objection to Ruiz coming along, and the what the fuck look is met with Alexander's best flat, expressionless face. Just the facts, sir, that expression says, louder than words.

August bobs his eyebrows when Ruiz insists he's going. Well, of course he is, who thought he wasn't? August glances at Isabella and Alexander in silent thanks for the backup. When it comes to Ruiz, no the bit about Megan. That makes him sigh at Alexander. "Without letting her do that we have no idea what we'd be walking into. Besides," he glances down into his coffee, "leaving shit in our heads that They did? Probably not a good idea either."

Whenn Ruiz says it was Megan, August frowns. A half-second of, 'we get faded, you get stronger? how does that work?', then he asks, "What'd she do?" He hasn't had a solid 'yes okay look' from Ruiz, so he doesn't launch into prodding at him with the shaping Art. Not yet.

"I didn't keep letting her in. I let her in once," Isabella grouses at Alexander, and she nods to August at that point that the vague shadows that lingered in their minds might have been caused by Them. In the end, though, nobody can be certain as to what's what.

She doesn't seem all that perturbed about Ruiz coming, either. In fact, she seems very agreeable about having someone who can fight come along. Otherwise, however, she doesn't say anything, focused as she is at the conversation between August and the cop.

It definitely wasn't a solid yes on the poking and prodding. And de la Vega once again has that glazed, distant look in his eyes while the others talk. Like he's really, genuinely struggling to hold his focus on the conversation. "Huh?" he mumbles when Roen addresses him, looking up from a drink of his coffee, rubbing at his nose with an inked thumb. "Look, I spent last night trying to decide whether I was going to kill her." He probably shouldn't be admitting to this. But he does. The coffee's finished off, and the empty cup set on the coffee table, ball cap slid off. Fingers scruffed through his dark curls.

"Then I decided I'd at least talk to her, first. Find out what she meant when she broke into my fucking mind and told me she could make me more powerful." He slides Isabella a look at that, inexplicably. "So I did. Go to talk to her. Said I was interested in knowing. Those men busted in and took her. I tried to stop them.." He shakes his head. Six guys is a little much, even for an ex-Marine sniper. "And as they were dragging her out, she.. did something to me. Gave me back a memory. Of some time I spent with her, in that hotel room. Learning how to be a fucking one trick pony." Whatever that means. Something about his voice when he says it, shifts, and he glances away.

As they talk, Alexander has been letting his finger drift from one bit of Megan's belongings to another. From his faint grimaces, nothing seems to be particularly useful. The only thing he does seem to notice is as he's going through the money. He smooths out a few of the bills on the table, so that the rest can see what he's seen: the bills have been doodled on, and those doodles are of a clock, although the bits and pieces of art don't make anything easily comprehensible. He stiffens at Ruiz's words. "Did she actually give you back a memory, Javier? Or did she make a new one with what she wanted you to know?" He looks to Isabella. "Once is enough, when it's on what...four or five of you, now? Half of the powerful abilities are reduced to embers at the moment, and one is--" a worried glance back at Javier, "I think his head might explode at some point? Or he needs to sleep. One or the other. But I'm just saying. If someone wanted to weaken us before an attack, getting us to sign away our weapons is a good way to do it."

August cuts a look at Alexander. "All I'm good for in a fight is getting the shit beat out of me," he says, tone bland. "Pretty sure she didn't weaken that in the least." He shifts, uncomfortable, because that's the same thing he'd told Ruiz just under a week ago; that the fading was weakening them, as a community. Making them vulnerable. The look he shares with Isabella, then, is sympathy; in this, at least, he knows they've erred, but he agrees with her that maybe they had no choice.

"One trick pony." He repeats the phrase with care, staring directly at Ruiz, eyeing him up and down. He sighs, rubs at an eye. "Can I? Check you, I mean. Please. You're," he waves a hand at Ruiz, "distracted, amped up, kind of twitchy."

Ad Astra Per Aspera, indeed - the man who has that literally written on himself shows up. Oh, there's the rumble of a motorcycle's engine outside first; an Ural doesn't roar like an unmuffled Harley, but nor does it have the sewing machine purr of something like a BMW.

Then the rap of knuckles on the door, and the patient silence of someone waiting. Speak of the devil.

There's frustration on her face, because she knows Alexander is right, but there had been a stubborn opinion within her that she was halfway certain that she was the only idiot who was going to jump into the chasm with eyes open. Isabella has, on this end, underestimated the willingness of her friends to be just as dumb as she is. There's a soft groan instead, rolling her head back and slumping into the couch. Lifting her head, she flashes the investigator a stubborn look. "If you're getting dragged into a place you don't remember to try and destroy it, I wasn't about to let you go in there blind," she says, defiance and stubbornness on the line of her jaw, before she pushes herself on her feet and moves towards the door to open it for Joe.

"You know what, Alexander?" Javier snaps back at the younger man. "You can fuck right off with that, because I don't give a shit whether it happened or it didn't happen, the fact is that I know how to do something I fucking didn't before, and I know it because of her." He's pushed to his feet somewhat abruptly, and lurks there like an animal that's not quite decided yet if it'll lunge or slink away. There's no real anger directed toward Alexander; he seems to be generally on edge at the moment.

At length, a terse nod to August. And with a flick of dark eyes over the other man, a gruffly murmured, "Fine."

Alexander mutters at August, "You know that's not true. You shouldn't say it, because you know it's not true." The knock on the door has him rising to his feet with a jerk, falling into a defensive crouch as he stares towards it. "I wasn't expecting anyone." He edges towards the window, to look out, carefully. "It's...that guy. Cavanaugh? Why is he here?" He looks back at Isabella, about to try and answer her, when Ruiz snaps at him. He recoils, just enough to be visible. His shoulders slump, and he looks down at his feet. "All right," he says, suddenly dull. He makes his way to the door, opens it. "Hi. Did someone invite you?" At least it doesn't seem to be an angry query, just a really rude one.

"Oh do I," August mutters back, setting his coffee cup down and folding his arms. He tips his head at Isabella in agreement. "It was worth doing, to keep anyone who goes to do that safe. Give them a better chance."

The tension between Ruiz and Alexander builds, Ruiz starts yelling, there's a knock on the door. August must be feeling better, because all he does is sigh and run a hand over his face. "Guys, come on. Let's not wreck the house."

Ruiz's capitulation, then, isn't what August was expecting. He blinks, nods slowly. "Okay." He flicks a glance to the door when Alexander answers it, but that's all he spares for the moment; his attention settles somewhere just past Ruiz's shoulder.

Which welcoming greeting has the pilot looking at Alexander with a dry expression. "Yes, actually," he says, voice mild, nodding past him to Javier. "He did. Though, not being a vampire, I can show up uninvited from time to time. Is my presence going to be a problem?"

Then he's glancing at the others. "Hey," he says, still in that even tone, body language relaxed. He's got a worn leather jacket on, over jeans and t-shirt. "Roen, Miz Reede, Javier." Only the faintest flicker of something at that last.

"Hey Joe." Isabella will let Alexander decide whether he comes in, though. It's his house. Her hand gently touches the investigator's forearm, before she turns her eyes back to Ruiz at his earlier snap. "He's just concerned, Javier. The woman tried to kill him and a lot of other people before." She stresses both words. "He has every cause and reason to be worried and skeptical."

Yes, well, tensions might be running a little high here tonight in general. And de la Vega's clearly been through an ordeal. Some people don't handle ordeals well, when they're in the midst of them. Others are perfectly cool under fire, and lose their shit a little after the fact. Or, you know, a lot, when one runs a little hotter under the hood to begin with like the cranky Mexican tends to. He watches Alexander and Isabella go to tend to the door, but then August's focus on him drags his attention back.

"My fault, lo siento," he's at least got manners enough to demur to, as to inviting Joe over. And then the blond's greeting him; that flicker of something draws a slant of dark eyes, a lingering look. "We were discussing a visit to the Asylum," he summarises for the man. And something.. off might be noted about him tonight. His power is sloughing off of him like a liquid oxygen tank shedding ice at liftoff.

"I don't believe I told you where I live, so if you showed up uninvited, I would be confused and probably angry," Alexander says, bluntly. "But no. Not a problem." He shuffles the door open. "Come in. It's chilly out there." Once Joe's stepped inside, he closes and locks the door behind him, and without looking at anyone else, shuffles towards the little herb garden in what should be the dining area. He picks up a water bottle and starts to spritz the plants gently, clearly needing a little calming time himself.

August is off in his own little world, one hand raised, fingers moving like he's directing something, tugging on invisible leaves. Joe can see it immediately; he's faded, his Glimmer which is normally so brilliant shrouded and low.

Not so low, though, that he can't do this simple thing. "Huh," he murmurs, eyes unfocused. "Would you look, at, that." He raises his hand, turns it, like he's directing some sort of projection only he can see. "Well now I regret getting myself all fucked up, I don't know if I can show this to all of you like this." With everyone so twitchy, and his own mind a little sort, he's not sure he wants to mindshare. No right now.

He frowns, tries an illusion anyways. It's a tricky thing, forming an illusion of how he sees Aspects instead of simply sharing it. As a result, it's not his best effort; like seeing a poor quality Paint drawing instead of a lovely render in Photoshop. It looks like two stars, same size, rotation, even the patterns of the sunspots marching over their surfaces. But one is throwing off huge coronal mass ejections and solar flares, and simply brighter than the other one. "This is before," he says, gesturing at the dimmer star. He points at the active one. "That's now. He's all...stirred up. Stronger. Not with more abilities," he glances at Alexander, "I don't think he can do the things you can. Or Hyacinth. But he's got a strength closer to that."

He dispels the illusion with a wave of his hand, annoyed with himself for how crude it was.

The illusion perks her up away from Alexander's present fugue, and she leaves him to tend to his plants so she can look through the mental star-map August is projecting in the middle of the living room. She leans forward to examine the raging starburst in the middle of the configuration, and compares it to the dimmer one. "Fascinating," Isabella murmurs, rubbing her fingers against her chin as she peers at it. "I've never heard of anything like this happening before. But it parses with what I experienced with her. How she made me remember, it felt as if she was rewiring everything, and plugging in empty sockets. Might be she did something similar to Javier, but with an opposite effect."

The blond shrugs out of the jacket, drapes it over his arm. "I see," he says, tone still equable. "What's the goal there? Recon? Are we planning to attempt to destroy it?" Then he's peering at Javier for a long moment, squinting. "....did you have a double espresso or...."

August's illusion diverts him. "Yes," he says. "That's a good visual metaphor - coronal rain. Keene did that to him?"

The star map is a little mesmerising, admittedly. Even if it's an allegory, and not a literal transposing of the contents of his mind. Javier prowls closer, closer. Until he starts to intersect the illusion, until the boundary between it and himself become hazy and uncertain. Then with a breath, he pulls away, locks eyes with Isabella a moment. "Not quite. Like I said, she told me I was a.. one trick pony. That because I have no skill with either the shaping art or the moving art, I can use it to become stronger with the mind art." He could've probably said so from the start, but nobody's ever accused Javier of being good with words. And that looks like exactly what's happened; his power's rerouted itself around all the dark points, the cold points, shortened connections and created a redoubling effect that's multiplied his ability.

To Joe, in passing, "Keene, yeah." And then he's moving off to have a few quiet words with Alexander while he waters his plants. Offers to help, if the other man's willing.

Even Alexander in his sulk can't help but turn his head and look at the illusion that's offered, and his expression softens for a moment. Until he remembers that this is a rendition of something of unknown danger pulsing in Ruiz's HEAD. Then he's back to being all blank-faced and plant-watering. "Rescue," he tells Joe. "Miss Keene has been captured by agents of the Asylum. So I guess we're going to go get her back." He says this without looking around, tensing up a little when Ruiz approaches. Still, he listens to the quiet words, and speaks a few of his own. The shrug he uses is dismissive, but after a moment, he offers the water bottle. The plants don't actually NEED more water, but it's the thought that counts?

"Rescue," August reiterates for Joe. "Destroying the place...that could be risky. When we do things like that Over There, it changes Over There. The Veil itself. I talked to her about that, Keene, and she admitted that for all she knew, these memory holes we had? Could just be internal time bombs, waiting to go off if the Asylum gets destroyed." He shrugs, because it's worth considering the source, but it's also worth considering how little they really understand.

"So--just one Talent." He tracks Ruiz as he goes to help Alexander mist the plants, nods a confirmation. "Yeah...the things you don't have are, sort of like, concentrating it. Like a concentrating photovoltaic." He runs a hand through his hair. "You're overclocked, basically. Probably with similar, ah, risks."

He gestures at Isabella. "You're on to something with that. I think it's more, because she's like de la Vega, she could do it. Because she can concentrate her one talent high enough."

"Right." Isabella takes a certain pride being a researcher, and she's invested countless hours in research and experimentation - she's not even really humble about it, a complete opposite of Alexander in that regard. Still, there's a growing curiosity now that the possibility is presented to her, turning it over and over again in her mind. She does turn her gaze to watch Javier approach her boyfriend, though, her expression tense - but as no fisticuffs are happening, she relaxes slowly.

"Anyway, we can always try to track down the van, the one they escaped in," she suggests. "If we can find it, someone can read it and it might put us closer to Megan." She leans over the coffee table now, to examine the dollar bills that Alexander arranged upon it. "....a clock, again," she murmurs.

There's more than a little bemusement in the way Joe's brow furrows. A beat, two, and then he says, "Ah, why? Why are we rescuing her? Because everyone I've spoken to thus far agrees she's both literally and figuratively a bad actor. And as has been pointed out, she's gotten her sticky fingers on most of us, one way or another. She's taken power from the strong, she's got someone else amped up like he's running in the red....and then she gets taken. How do we know she wasn't out there rounding us up like some kind of psychic border collie and now we're being driven there for Their convenience?"

The blue gaze wanders between them. "Because I'll be honest, I've been the subject of one rescue mission that cost a shit-ton of lives, and there at least we had the option of yelling for things like air support and casevac. This time.....They'll know we're comin', They got her."

August's talk of memory time bombs has Ruiz pausing a moment, looking over. And then narrowing his eyes slightly in brief contemplation. Momentarily, he's accepting the bottle from Alexander, and giving it a couple of squirts to mist the plants. He probably doesn't buy that they need this, either, but he's trying to be fucking apologetic. "Risks like what?" he mutters to August. And no, no fisticuffs from the Mexican apparently. He's behaving himself for the most part, now. "I've got a plate number for the van," he tells Isabella, "and had it impounded. But I already showed you what I read from it. I doubt you'll get anything more." Upper lip drawn between his teeth, he veers away from the plants when another doodle is pointed out, and heads over for a look over the brunette's shoulder.

Then Joe speaks, and the ex-Marine looks up at mention of the rescue mission. Gives the blond a long, hard look. "This isn't fucking Afghanistan, Cavanaugh," he murmurs. "And if you don't want to go. Then don't fucking go."

Considering the previous conversation, one might expect Alexander to point at Joseph and scream something like that. Listen to that. But he is also trying to be good and not aggravate his friends any further, so he contents himself with stepping back with a murmured thanks for Ruiz, and pouring Joe a cup of...joe. He takes it to the man and pushes it towards him, the motion abrupt and strange. "You don't have to go," he agrees, but less hard. "It'd be helpful, though. I think."

"Overclocking a piece of hardware is like running a car at high RPMs nonstop. It's hard on it. Sure, you're getting better performance, but it's not gonna last as long unless you take really good care of it." August nods his head at the door. "Just like a sports car." Well, Ruiz has a muscle car, but August isn't a car guy. "You can't treat it like a bog-standard Civic. Put another way? Be careful. Keep an eye on yourself, or get one of us to." Just what Ruiz likes: being watched over.

"I'm sure they scrub anything like that on the regular," he says of the van. Ruiz all but confirms that, so August adds, "They just didn't have time to get what he showed us."

He sighs at Joe, runs a hand over his face. "Alexander's the one who gets to veto," he says, finally. "Since he's the one who has a personal reason to not want to. The rest of us, well..." He gives Isabella a brief, pointed look. "We need to go along with what he wants, there."

"I think at this point, Alexander's just trying to maximize our chances of survival by making sure we have as much intel on our side as we can," Isabella observes, glancing over at Ruiz and nodding at what he says about the van, making room for him in the coffee table so he can see the bills. "Well, it's not as if we don't know where they were taking her. The question is, if we are rescuing her, whether we go soon or wait while we recover. The longer she stays there, the likelier it is that she won't make it. But if we hurry, it's likelier that we won't make it, especially if Joe's right after all and she's just bait."

Her eyes fall on Alexander at August's remarks. "I'm with Alexander if he chooses not to do anything about it," she says quietly. They may disagree on the way the information is collected, but at the end of the day, she's always in his corner.

"No, thank God," Joe replies, easily. "But that still doesn't answer my question - how do we know this isn't a trap? I'm goin', either way. Y'all will need me there. I know it better'n any of you." Tone offhand, but the look in his eyes is momentarily all fractures, all edges. Therapy designed to heal madness, and torment that left him howling in the dark like a damned thing - not all the scars were left on his body, though Javier has found the ones that were.

He takes the cup of coffee from Alexander, with murmured thanks. The new ink on his fingers - HOLD FAST - is finally healed enough there's no shining slick of aftercare goo, but the blue and black are still bright, vivid. "Also.....are we sure that time runs there like it does here?" An offhand question. "But that's a good point. Time is of the essence, either way."

The can of water is set down, Javier's hand dried off on the thigh of his jeans, and he reaches out to touch one of the bills. Adjusts its position ever so slightly to line up with the one beside it, then makes a sound in his throat, low and grumbly and thoughtful while he regards the arrangement. "I don't think she's bait," he murmurs to her. "I suspect she's known for a while that she's going back. Wanted to make amends for.." His dark eyes flick Joe's way, inexplicably. "Sus fechorķas. Sus errores."

Then he glances back down at the bills laid out on the table. "If you don't want us to go, Alexander. I'll find a way in there alone. Maybe take Marshall with me." Couple of has been Marines against a whole Asylum, what could go wrong?

"What? No." Alexander frowns and takes a couple steps back, like he might flee into his room. "I don't have veto. If you wanna go, we go. If someone doesn't wanna go, they don't go. Up to them." A long pause. "If anyone shouldn't go, it's probably me. I'm not going to remember any of it, and they're probably going to just keep me one of these days, anyway." His smile is brief and crooked. He takes a breath. "Anyway. If we're going to do it. Then sooner is better. Doesn't seem right to sit around and let her be tortured, if we plan to do something about it." His eyes snap back to Ruiz, anger sparking deep within them for a moment. He bites it back, worrying at his lower lip, and mutters to Joe, "Time doesn't. Work the same way. Not always. Sometimes you're over there for a while, but not so long here. Sometimes it's only a few minutes there, and it's hours here."

August sighs, his expression one of 'Lord I tried'. He holds up a hand to forestall Alexander. "I just mean, as the guy she and the troupe tries to sacrifice to Them? We'd be assholes to not listen to how you felt about saving her." Now he gestures at him. "In your place? I can't say I'd be willing to go. So you're the better man than me."

He looks askance at Ruiz, shifts that same look to Joe. "Cavanaugh and I were thinking the same. That maybe anyone they let out is bait, in some way." He seems to consider that a time, takes up his cup of coffee and sips from it. "Hell, that might be. But I don't think so. Not now. They sent six guys to get her. That's serious. You don't do that for your bait."

He leans into a wall, holding it up. "Sooner," he agrees. "They're going to do their worst to her. She's been ripping the curtain off their sideshow. That new Doctor? He doesn't sound like he'll take kindly to that."

"If you go, anyone or anything who touches you for the purposes of keeping you there is going to die." Isabella's words are mild when she remarks on Alexander's statement there, and judging by the look of her, Glimmer diminished, barely weighing half of most of the people in this room and with features that would cave under a very good punch, she could easily be written off as a small, yappy dog that barks too much with no bite. Easily.

But with everyone slowly drawing a consensus as to what needs to be done, there's only a grim nod; in particular agreement with August about sending six guys after 'bait'.

Couple of has-been Marines....and at least one pilot. That reply from Javier has Joe's expression going stern, cold, all those lines of good humor, good nature nothing against the harshness of the set of his mouth. "Not just you and Marshall," he reiterates, patiently. "I'm going with you." By the look in his eyes, he means Javier specifically. It has the air of a vow.

A glance for Alexander. "That confirms what I felt," he says, calmly. "By the calendar, my stay was like....seven months. But it felt much, much longer. I spent so much of the time in Dreams, though, that I wondered."

August's point makes him purse his lips, and then sigh. "Six guys, huh? Fuck. Maybe I been the Manchurian Candidate this whole goddamn time. S'pose it was inevitable that I go back there - no time like the present." His tone is resigned, but there's that glitter in his eyes. Eager for the challenge, perhaps.

Ruiz, of course, conveniently skipped over all of August's talk about taking care of himself or having someone watch over him. Because that shit is for the birds. "She's not bait," he repeats, low-voiced and even. He seems more certain of it, the more he says the words. A flickered glance goes to Alexander at that little flare of anger, but he doesn't acknowledge it. The pair spend a goodly amount of time butting heads with one another; it's part of their charm.

That look from Joe though, seems to seal it. The blond gets a little sloe-eyed one in return from the Mexican, and one of those bills turned around 360 degrees beneath his fingers, slowly, before it's relinquished. "Sooner," he concludes, pushing to his feet slowly, jaw hard. "All of us, then. We'll want the element of surprise." Tried and true warfare tactic, after all.

Alexander moves towards Isabella, and if she allows, leans in to wrap his arms around her body and kiss her cheek. "Thank you," he says to her, quietly. There's a sincerity to it that speaks to the depth of his fear, whether he acknowledges it or not, that one day people will just agree that's where he needs to be and leave him there. He leans back, turning his attention back to the others. "But Javier has to come down from this." A nod towards the aura around him. "So let's give it a couple of days at least? Until we know whether his head is gonna explode, and give him time to get things under control." A look at Ruiz. "We should practice. If you want. See what you can do. Not now. But soon."

"Agreed," August says, nodding at Alexander. "And we might see if," a guilty look at Isabella, "you or me or Easton heal up from this, some. I can still shape alright, but the rest..." He sighs, shrugs. He's more like Ruiz, now; only one Aspect he can really rely on. "I can patch you up and get smacked around just fine." He even dredges up a smile for that.

"It will. Like I said, this has happened to me three times already and it's always recovered. I may not...maybe it's not the same anymore, not since..." Her brother. "But I never fade away completely. Maybe it depends on potential...if it's inherent, and if it's strong enough in the first place, logically it's like damming up a flow too large. Or if it's like a physical limb, the stronger it is, the faster it recovers. It may just be wishful thinking." Isabella's voice trails off as she thinks, green-and-gold eyes turning inward in memory, but it ends in a self-deprecating smirk. "But like any other damaged limb, it needs therapy to get back in fighting form. Megan might be bullshitting everything else, but I don't think she's wrong there. Finding a purpose, exercising it to fix it."

She looks up when Alexander approaches her, returning his embrace and for a moment, her grip tightens on him as much as her meager strength can allow, shutting her eyes tightly as she remembers. She knows that, too. She's bathed in that poison before, swallowed it when he was drowning an entire hospital with his nightmares. "Always," she tells him quietly, bussing his cheek. Easing away, she glances at Javier and nods. "It can't hurt to rest for a little while and get your head and senses straight, give yourself time to adjust. We've all had that period, I think, whenever we breach into a new level of power. There's a period of instability, but then the mind compensates."