loki laufeyson (toberuled) wrote in doorslogs, @ 2013-06-16 23:51:00 |
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Entry tags: | death, gwen stacy, loki, norman osborn, scarecrow |
Who: Ian, Sam, Iris, Louis, and Neil, with special guests Drake, Ash, and Joey.
What: Rescuing Sam.
Where: Ian's house.
When: Immediately following the debacle on the forums.
Warnings/Rating: General creepiness.
Louis had picked everyone up on the way to Ian’s as if it was the most perverse family road trip of all time. Little was said on the drive over - they had a mission to accomplish, and he was tense. He felt drained after spending hours making threats and shaking down Iris - Iris, a problem to be sorted out later - but it wasn’t done. They had to get Sam out of the house and take her to the hospital to get checked out by a real doctor. Only then could they start worrying about the rest of it, like what was to be done about Ian.
Louis pulled up to the gate, and when it opened, he was genuinely surprised. A few moments later they were outside the house. He parked on the street, since there was no way to know whether they would need to pull out again on short notice, and slid out of the driver’s seat.
They couldn’t all go in. Sam might spook if she was still scared, or even drugged, which wouldn’t surprise him in the least. “Neil,” he said, looking up at the door. “Come on.” He glanced over everyone else. “Stay close to the door,” he said. “If you hear anything that sounds like trouble, knock down whoever you have to to get in. Just try not to give him any ammunition to call the police on us rather than the other way around." Then, he knocked on the door.
Neil wasn't really an angry person. The amount of times he'd lost his temper throughout his life could be counted on one hand, but this was an exception. He was most definitely angry now, and he spent the ride over in seething silence. He didn't need proof to know that, somehow, Ian was behind all of this, and he cursed himself for not doing something about the bastard sooner. Sam was terrified of him, even if she hadn’t exactly disclosed why, and this just solidified his belief that her fear wasn’t irrational or crazy. And the drugs Joey had found? Ian had to have been involved in that too. He’d just seen her days ago, and she hadn’t been on the edge of relapse. She hadn’t been. Maybe everything wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t that bad either. Someone or something had happened, and now she was in Ian’s house, when he knew damn well she’d have never gone there of her own free will.
But Louis was right; getting Sam out, getting her somewhere safe, was the priority. He knew everyone tagging along except the one guy, though he hadn’t actually met Joey in person before, but none of that mattered. Hell, the more people who hated Ian, the better. Admittedly, he was just as surprised as Louis was when the gate opened without requiring any ramming from the vehicle, but whatever. He would have been prepared to argue if he’d been told to stay behind, but fortunately Louis elected him as tag-along without any protest needed on his part, and he couldn’t get out of the car fast enough.
He waited while Louis knocked, arms folded over his chest. Getting through the gate might have been simple, but he wasn’t expecting Ian to make the rest easy, and he now had no faith in Iris whatsoever. He’d come prepared to meet resistance, though, and he was certain that Louis was just as ready to do whatever necessary to get Sam out as he was.
The house beyond the gate was a sprawling desert home, not quite a mansion, but certainly not modest enough to be consider simply a 'house'. White stucco and bright lights, it hid from nothing. The home was public enough that Ian didn't do anything too serious here. It was a place to live and little more, and any dubious business he might have been conducting was certainly not happening here. He had known this place would be approached sooner rather than later, and he had prepared for that.
Moments after Louis knocked on the door, it swung open to reveal the tall, trim form of Ian Russell. Dressed in pale gray trousers and a white button down shirt, untucked with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, there was little about him that was immediately intimidating. His expression was pleasant, the light in his eyes subdued as though he was toning everything down for his visitors, because that was truly what they were. He refused to think of them as intruders, refused to give them any sort of upper hand in this encounter. Ian inclined his head to the side, standing in the doorway and blocking any immediate entrance. It was easy to deduce who the pair of men on his front step were. "Louis, I presume," Ian started, his voice a smooth and easy baritone. "And Neil. It's good to see both of you. Sam and Iris are in one of my guest rooms, I believe still resting. My doctor was in earlier to see to Sam, but you are more than welcome to get a second opinion." He stepped aside, giving them entrance. "Come in."
Louis hated Ian from the moment he set eyes on him, but that wasn't precisely a change. He had despised him from a distance, before - now, he merely had a name to set to the face. If being named and identified was meant to shake him in some way, since he'd apparently already tracked Lin down to his home, it didn't. Louis didn't have anything to hide, and any attempt on him by Ian would be suspicious enough to immediately track. "Charmed," he said, dry as the desert beyond the walls. Like his brother he carried the inflections of someone raised in Scotland, though it was mellowed a little by years lived in London, then in the States. Louis was taller than people tended to anticipate, willowy and well-dressed. He didn't even address the comment about getting a second opinion. Any doctor on Ian's payroll was more a lackey than a doctor.
He walked in, looking left and right. "She's coming down?" he asked, staring at Ian, slate blue eyes. It was more a statement than a question. He didn't intend to linger here, or let Ian waste their time while something else happened to Sam in some sequestered room of this eerily immaculate house.
For all of the hate directed towards him, Ian didn't bat a single eyelash. He was used to that sort of thing and let it roll off of him, water off a highly waxed surface. Sticks and stones, after all. The accent was noted, filed away as information to pursue later on, but for the moment, all of his attention was on the pair of men sent to fetch the young woman resting elsewhere. "Most guests in my home," Ian started as he moved further into the house, giving the pair his back, "have the decency to at least say 'please' when demanding anything from me, but I'll forgive you." The phrase 'this time' was left unsaid, and Ian turned back towards them at the entrance to a set of stairs that spiralled up, hands clasped behind his back.
"And as I said. She was resting, last I knew. I didn't want to rouse her simply for her to wait on the curb, as you would have preferred. But I'll go and get her now. Please. Stay here. I shall be only a moment." He didn't offer them a moment to protest or give any other form of argument before he turned and disappeared up the stairs, bare feet on the hard floors making little noise. The pair didn't rattle him, didn't bother him in the slightest, but they did pose the slightest of threats to his interests. So long as they didn't plan to attempt to remove Iris from the premises, however, Ian didn't see this coming to blows. Give a child what it wants, and they'll soon forget the other things they were whinging about not so long before.
The door to the guest room opened moments later without him knocking, and it closed quickly behind them, affording the mismatched trio a moment of privacy. "They've come for her," Ian announced to Iris moments later, his voice pitched low, a whisper for her and her alone given that Sam was likely lacking the coherency to follow a conversation at this point. "You are welcome to come out with me, but I won't ask that of you. Unfortunately, I must take our lovely guest here to them before they make good on their threats to kill me here and now." No matter how dire the threats might have been, he spoke of them lightly as though they meant little to him in the grand scheme of things.
Iris was in the same place she'd been since Sam had been checked over by the doctor, in a comfortable chair that she'd pushed closer to the bed (with a small amount of difficulty when it caught on the thick rug). A book was abandoned on the arm of the chair as she curled into the overstuffed embrace of it and simply watched Sam sleep.
She startled and looked up, a jolt that shook her entire body. Her heart leapt into a rabbity beat, breath caught in her throat. She hadn't heard his approach, nor the sound of their voices from downstairs. His presence helped, a steady weight in the room, but she shook her head. Louis had made his opinion very clear, threats of wiping her away and talk of his family as if she wasn't a part of it. She wasn't certain she could face him, not knowing that she might have to confront that sort of anger. Perhaps someday on e he had calmed down and she could explain. Shaking her head, she looked down and unfolded herself from the chair. The book remained on the wide arm as Iris paused, looked at her sister for what she feared might be the last time, and kissed her cheek carefully. "Get better, Sam," she whispered, “...I’m sorry,” and then crossed the room to pause near Ian. She hadn't yet told him everything about her interaction with Louis on the journals, though it was easy enough to read how she didn't want to see anyone else. "I'll go," she whispered. "Back to my room." She paused, as if there was still more to say, words on her tongue, but she slipped past him and, with a bold moment of courage, let her fingers brush against his for a bit of reassurance before moving for the door, slipping out and hurrying back up the hallway toward her room, avoiding even looking toward the stairway.
The kiss to her cheek woke Sam, dazed and groggy, and it took a few slow blinks to even understand what was happening in the room. The combinations of medicines the doctor had given her didn't knock her out, but they kept her strangely calm, strangely pliant, and she just watched Iris and Ian with a lazy expression that wasn't panic at all, not like it should be. After the door opened, she realized she was supposed to move, and she slowly swung her feet over the side of the bed and stood. She didn't sway when she moved forward, and she didn't hesitate to come to the door, close to Ian, no immediate concern that he was there anywhere on her features.
Sam glanced into the hall before actually stepping into it, and she was almost a shadow. The white nightgown she wore was pristine, chaste, buttons to the throat and fabric to her feet. It wasn't dingy and rumpled, not like the things she normally wore, and her hair was equally clean and carefully braided. She hardly resembled herself, really, especially with the calm expression on her features. The bruise that marred her temple was dark and shocking, but the skin wasn't broken, and there wasn't any blood. There was no hunger for drugs in her unfocused eyes, no need for cursing or protective walls, and she stepped into the hallway and waited, as if she needed someone to tell her where to go.
Ian gave a glance towards Iris, reaching out to snag her fingers for a brief moment in return as he opened the door to let her escape the room back to her own, and only then did he turn his attention to the girl who was making her way from the bed and towards the door. He didn't say anything, but he did lift a hand to come to rest upon her shoulder, an anchor against the world that was likely not quite real to the girl with the cocktail of god knows what coursing through her system. "Your family is here," Ian said after a moment, brushing his hand down the plait that hung down the middle of her back, and then, without asking for permission or even warning her that it was going to happen, he shifted closer to her. One arm behind her shoulders, another at her knees, and he lifted her in one smooth gesture, not wanting to be blamed should she take a fall down the stairs on her way to the loving arms of her family.
And then he turned back down the hallway to the stairs he had ascended only moments before, the girl cradled to his chest in a way that one would hold a child than a grown woman, but that was hardly anything he was concerned about.
In this, Neil was willing to let Louis take the lead. He didn’t react when the door opened, save for a quick sweep of his gaze to take in the man who stood before them, this Ian character, and what he saw didn’t particularly impress him. Appearances could be deceiving, and frankly he could have been glowing with a halo around his head and it wouldn’t have made a difference. A slight incline of his head was his only acknowledgment that yes, he was Neil, before he followed Louis inside, and like his brother he had every intention of getting Sam to another doctor, one who wasn’t under this rich asshole’s thumb. Please wasn’t a word he intended on using in Ian’s presence, and he actually laughed when the other man said he would forgive them, because was he for real? Really? Did he think they were a couple of kids afraid of the boogeyman? His years of practised apathy had a few upsides; fear wasn’t in his repertoire. It would take a hell of a lot for Ian to intimidate him, and frankly, he was batting zero just then. “You’re a real piece of work,” he told the other man, unable to keep the words back. “We wouldn’t prefer her on the damn curb and you know it.” How and why Iris was enamoured with this man, he had no fucking idea.
Now, staying put wasn’t something he intended on doing. Hell no. Like he was going to trust Ian to be alone with Sam, whether Iris was present or not, and he was pleased to see that Louis had the same idea. He followed him up the stairwell, but stopped short when he saw Ian with Sam in his arms at the top of the stairs. He knew with utmost certainty that she wouldn’t want him touching her, which meant he’d fucking done something to her to keep her from throwing a fit. Bastard.
Without hesitating, he pushed past Louis until he was directly in front of Ian. “Give her to me,” he snapped, and there was no damn please anywhere in the demand. “I’ll carry her out. You’ve done enough.”
Louis followed Ian halfway up the stairs. To hell with staying put, he wanted to see how they were keeping Sam, and in what state. When Iris fled the room, he didn't recognize her at first. It was only after a moment of watching her retreating back that he realized who he was watching, and he was flooded with another wave of numbing anger. How could she do this? How could she do this to Sam, and then just run, refuse to even face them and explain herself?
But he had to focus on Sam. She had to be the priority right now, and the girl who was carried into the hall in the chaste white nightgown wasn't Sam. She was a shade of herself with eyes like a doll's, and a bruise like she'd been beaten, and his emotions rose up, battling between horror and rage. Ian was carrying her. He was touching her.
He was glad Neil had pushed ahead to take Sam. He wasn't sure he would have been able to hold her. Louis was far from a violent man, and he was still having a difficult time restraining himself from grabbing Ian by the shirt and tossing him down the rest of the stairs.
"If you ever touch my sister again, I'll ensure you don't keep your hands," Louis said. His tone was so cold, his eyes so bright with fury, that he hardly looked like himself. He looked like a ghost of someone else, all pale fire, white cold. "We're taking her to the hospital, and we're making sure she gets a blood test when she gets her head wound checked. Since you clearly took advantage of her vulnerable state to sedate her, I hope for your sake that you'll be willing to justify drugging a stranger in your home in court." He turned on heel, stepping back down the stairs. “You can tell Iris,” he said, as he descended the stairs, “That she certainly isn’t welcome in my home anymore. Neil can speak for himself. I don’t want to so much as see her face on my street.”
Sam didn't react to Neil's approach, and she didn't react to Louis' anger. She didn't even react to the fact that she was cradled against the body of a male she barely knew, much less a male she feared. There was only confusion in her gaze, as if she couldn't figure out why people were angry. When Neil demanded that Ian hand her over, she shook her head in an attempt to be soothing. "It's ok, Neil," she said, because she knew exactly who he was. "I can walk," she added, but it was a quietly tentative thing, and it didn't come with any attempt to actually get to her feet. Instead, she gave Ian a questioning look, one that asked if she was allowed to stand on her own two feet, instead of insisting or demanding. In the short time she'd been there, she'd gotten used to Ian coming and going and doing as he pleased, and it showed. And if there was something on her features that said she wanted to go with the man in front of her, instead of remaining with the one who held her in his arms, she didn't actually voice it, the combination of pharmaceuticals making her pliant and agreeable to that extreme degree.
She watched Louis storm down the stairs, and then she looked back at Neil. "Do I have to go to the hospital?" she asked, before glancing at Ian for permission again.
The anger that resided in Neil's eyes was acknowledged, but nothing on Ian's face gave any hint to a reaction to it. His arms remained curled around the young woman he held, and for a moment, he lifted his chin, defiance to Neil's demands. "If you don't mind, I'll see that she at least gets to the landing. Transferring a person from one person to another on uneven ground such as stairs can lead to disaster. I wouldn't want anything to happen to her, after all. She's already been through entirely too much for one day." There was concern in his voice, and to all ears it should seem genuine, legitimate. So he edged past Neil, still with that precious bundle in his arms, head tilted down to her with the soft words she spoke. "No, darling, we don't want you falling on the stairs. Just a few moments longer and I'll give you over to your friends and family." His voice was soft, a gentle tone like one might use on a child, and the last few steps were taken carefully and in relative silence.
Only when he was on the even floor of the ground level of his home did he offer her over towards Neil, one last parting touch to the plait of hair that now rested over one shoulder. "And I would say that you shouldn't have to go to the hospital, but obviously they do not trust my own doctor." All of the anger that was directed towards him from the other two men was brushed aside, practically ignored, as Ian slid a hand into his pocket, pulling out a white business card to offer over to Louis. "If you have any questions about the treatment that was offered to her within my home, you may contact this gentleman. I'm not so arrogant as to pretend I know a thing about medicating people on my own, which is why my personal physician handled her care." Or at least that's what he would be told should the information check out. The man had been under his payroll for some time, and though his practice was legitimate, he had a few things on the doctor that would keep his loyalty in check for years to come. It was nothing for him to lie about the dubious use of sedatives. "As for Iris, I won't be a messenger on your behalf, just as I would never expect for you to act as one for me." The card handed over, Ian tilted his head to the side, surveying Louis with a long, steely look. "If you have something to say to her about her behaviour, you are welcome to talk to her yourself. Though I must say, if family is so quick to brush her aside for what you believe are her bad decisions, then she is better off in my care. I thought blood was thicker than water, but it appears I was mistaken." Hands were clasped behind his back, his expression genial, and the man looked at home in his the sprawling desert mansion he called his own. "I trust that you can see yourself out the way you came, yes? Unless some of your friends in the car outside wish to say something." Because he knew. Oh, he knew who was out there, and though he wasn't quite ready for a face to face meeting with one of the men who had nearly killed him some years prior, Ian wouldn't show any weakness towards him.
Even though his back was turned, Neil could practically feel Louis’ anger as a palpable force over his shoulder. He understood how very hard it was to keep himself from punching Ian, one good blow to his smug face, but Sam was the priority, and the sooner they got her out of there the better. His jaw tightened as Louis spoke, his silence acting as agreement with everything he said, and the concern in his expression flared when Sam spoke. He saw the confusion in her gaze, and he saw the way she looked at Ian, like she needed his permission, which made the bastard’s audacity all the more infuriating. If Ian hadn’t been holding Sam, he probably would have shoved him down the stairs right then and there and hoped the bastard broke his goddamned neck. “Oh, no,” he said scathingly, forcing himself to move back and give Ian room to descend the stairs. The sooner he reached the landing, the sooner he could get Sam away from him. “I’m sure you wouldn’t want anything to happen to her. Nothing you didn’t do yourself, right?” Because she was drugged, clear as day. This wasn’t Sam. She wasn’t quiet and obedient like this, not ever. He followed behind, seething, and as soon as Ian handed her over, as soon as she was safe in his arms, he stepped back, back, putting distance between her and her tormenter. “Your act might work on some people,” he snapped, “but it doesn’t fool us. Don’t call her darling, don’t fucking touch her ever again, and please, drop the whole concerned facade. We all know better.” He was far from perfect, but god, Ian downright disgusted him.
He let Louis take or leave the business card, though he wouldn’t put his trust in any guy on Ian’s payroll. As for Iris, frankly, he didn’t give a damn about her just then. If she was so far off the deep end that she was going to take her boyfriend’s side, then so be it. His hold on Sam tightened, and at the mention of their ‘friends’ in the car, he smiled. “One of your pals out there seemed pretty keen on getting inside to see you, actually,” he said. “Might want to watch out for him. It’d be a shame if something happened to you.” With that, he turned for the door, no longer interested in anything Ian had to say.
Neil's anger at Ian laying hands on Sam again was enough to prevent Louis from taking drastic action. And he wanted to, just for a moment, when he saw Ian's hand brush her braided hair. He took the business card with two fingers and pocketed it, with all the distaste of coming into contact with a piece of particularly disgusting garbage. "Blood is thicker than water," Louis agreed, with utmost disgust. "Iris clearly forgot all about that." She had been the one to violate that bond first, not him. By letting Sam within the reach of this crawling insect, she’d excluded herself from the right to a family bond.
Louis remembered something, then - a parting shot. "While we are both standing here, all previous statements I have made apply to Lin Alesi, as well. I know that you know his address, and you tried to intimidate him for daring to speak in defense of his friend. I know that if anything happens to him in the near future, I can safely identify the quarter from which such pain has come." That should, Louis felt, be enough for Ian to think twice before attacking Lin for going off half-cocked on Sam's behalf. "Drugging my sister and sending someone to her home, threatening my friends and family? These are things I won't soon forget."
Louis followed Neil down the steps and outside. He couldn't bear to look at Sam, just then, or hear her distant speech, so completely unlike her. The sooner they all got away from this place, the sooner they could try to put this mess behind them.