...oh, fecking hell...don't do this Who: Neena Thurman, Pete Wisdom, Moira MacTaggert What: A dream leads to emergency CPR and other very emotional events When: July 3rd, in the morning. Where: Wisdom/Thurman Residence, then Moira’s lab. Ratings/Warnings: PG-13? … warning: death is in this log. needles, etc. The dream itself isn’t that traumatizing. Status: Complete
It was evening, and for the most part, everything was dark. She was on some kind of mission - that much was clear just by the gear she was wearing. It was a work suit, boots, and she knew she was armed to the teeth. There was a roof, she'd just climbed up onto it from the inside of ... somewhere. The dream didn't show her where she came from, only what happened next.
Which was that two men drinking coffee were alerted to her presence. A knife flew through the air at one of them, who instantly went down. She hadn't even aimed, and the gesture was one that was so smooth and graceful that she wouldn't be able to mimic it in real life. Another second later, and she was using a whip device to disarm the second guy. Feet flew through the air to kick him, then her elbow punched him in the chest, just like that. Suddenly the sound of bullets rang through the air.
"Damn it! So much for radio silence," She said, cheekily. She dodged bullets like she knew exactly what their trajectory was, and had guns in her hand before another second had passed. "Domino to Storm, do you have a telepath? It's getting loud here."
She kept bouncing around and firing as the response came, not over comms, but somehow directly into her mind, 'Storm here, with Psylocke.'
She responded like she'd done this a million times, 'The Sentinels are here, I have visual confirmation.'.
The reply came again, straight into her head, as the firefight ended and she turned around to check the scene, 'Are you under cover?'
Domino was most definitely not under any amount of cover, and it wouldn't have mattered. Whatever a sentinel was, it was standing right behind her in all its shining metal glory, 4 or 5 stories tall, palm open and obviously alerted to her presence, 'That's a negative.'
'I think it's too late for cover,' she added, as the palm began to light up with an energy beam.
What happened next was a blur of light and searing pain, the sound of the beam going off and things crumbling around her. Complete and utter oblivion followed.
Outside of the land of dreams, in an extremely comfortable bed at Casa Wisdom, everything seemed like a normal morning. It was a beautiful day, and sunshine was starting to burn its way through the cracks in the blinds to weave little slits of light everywhere. Birds were singing.
Pete and Domino were still entwined together, despite the havoc that dreams might have been wreaking on either one of them. All of that changed, however, when her eyes popped open momentarily and she cried out in obvious pain and distress. A trickle of blood started flowing out of her mouth and she gurgled a bit, before her eyes rolled back into her head.
Then she was very, very still.
Truth be told, Pete was having his own very bad dream. So it was with some form of gratitude that he was awoken by a sound from his cuddle buddy. It paid to be a light sleeper, after all, and the slightest noise in his immediate surroundings had him awake in an instant. He sat up, groggily blinking his eyes around, one hand already stretched out to seize hold of a nearby gun.
If finally registered that there wasn't anyone else there. The walls were a pale greyish purple. The door was closed. It was daylight. And he was not in the middle of Thailand, killing anything and everything that moved.
With a sigh, he rubbed one hand over his face and turned to look at Dom, whom he imagined simply had a bad dream and was probably laying there in silence, seeing white walls and everything that happened in them.
The moment he saw a trickle of blood, his blood ran like ice through his veins, and he seized hold of her by the shoulders, hoping she'd simply bit the inside of her mouth in her sleep, chewed on her lip the wrong way while sleep-nomming on her hair, or...anything besides the obvious.
It was like shaking a soggy, overcooked noodle. He felt a lump in his throat, even before he placed his fingers over her jugular, against her throat, and pressed down trying to feel a pulse. It wasn't like he was getting any response, otherwise.
"...oh, fecking hell...don't do this," he heard himself saying, from a distance, like it was someone else entirely.
There was absolutely no sound in answer aside from the birds in the background, merrily chirping along like nothing at all in the world was happening that could possibly be so horrible.
The trickle of blood trailed down to her chin and dripped off down her neck.
A part of him wanted to simply crumple in on itself, since she was very much dead. No pulse, no movement, no breath, no quirkiness, no 'I'm getting blood on my bed, no amount of bleach will get this out!' or anything. Frantically, he smacked one hand against the side of her face, then rubbed some of the blood with his thumb, his vision swimming so it looked for a moment like her face was underwater.
He almost let it all consume him or crush him under the sheer weight of losing her, so soon after they had...whatever...it was that they had. That indefinable something that seemed very right. And that she'd just up and die...in bed, of all places...suddenly made him angry. At everything. At the dreams that might have cause this, at some injury he might have overlooked, at her for up and dying...in bed, of all places...
And that was why he inhaled very deeply, let all of his training kick in as he let his temper take hold instead of all the fear and sorrow eat away at his insides, and started doing CPR on her, like he was not about to let her go without some form of a fight.
There was no response for a few seconds, but on the second pass through all of the motions, there was another gurgling noise on Neena's part. She started to take a breath, then there was a groan, and her eyes fluttered a bit.
While what followed might have been a romantic moment of Pete hugging onto her, what instead happened was that she ended up throwing up on his arm.
The moment she stirred, Pete's eyes widened like he wanted to kiss her or strangle her, but couldn't decide which to do, first. Strangling her might be counter-productive. And it wasn't like he had much of a chance to do either thing, because he felt the warm spatter of vomit on his arm.
You know wot, Wisdom? That's going to be best puke ever, since it means she's alive, and not remotely dead. So smile and nod, and take it for wot it's worth.
And that is what Pete did. He smiled and nodded, eyes heavy-lidded, and one of his hands rubbing at her shoulder. There was, however, a trembling in that hand, while he did that, which didn't seem like it was going to stop, any time soon. Needless to say, but someone's cage had been rattled.
Not merely rattled, but beaten upon with several large metal sticks, and maybe had a fire lit under it.
It was so bad, that he didn't even trust himself to speak quite yet, At the very least, he'd forgotten all about anything to do with foreign countries or killing people, and simply stared down at Neena, with worry etched on his face and fear in his eyes.
And puke on his arm, but he was glad for that puke. So that'll be taken care of, at some point in the near future.
It certainly didn't need to be taken care of right at that moment. It was only a little bit of puke and even Neena didn't feel her normal urge to clean it up yet. In fact, she wasn't feeling like doing much at all just yet.
Except for laying there and remembering to breathe, gratefully. That gigantic robot was gone, and she was back in bed, and who the hell were Storm and Psylocke? What kind of names were those? Her brain felt like it was on fire, and she took a few very deep breaths in the hopes that more oxygen applied to the right areas would make it stop.
She wasn't even sure what the hell had just happened, really. She could guess, by the way Pete was staring at her and the fact that her ribs where aching, though. She wasn't quite sure she could manage words, either, though she tried to reach up a hand to pat at the one on her shoulder, reassuringly.
That hand seized hold of her hand, immediately, and probably with enough abrupt force to make her fingers ache. It took a conscious effort not to squeeze her hand right off her wrist, so he lessened up on the death grip he had, leaned forward, and roughly pressed his lips against her forehead.
"...don't do that again, you," he finally said when he trusted himself to speak without getting choked up...or simply just sound like he was being choked. He was still jittery and on edge, as well as afraid - deep down, inside - that she'd be dead again, any second now. Dead, in a way where she couldn't even put up a fight against it, like he thought she'd want to. If she was given a choice.
That fear was what had him thinking that he needed to take her to Moira, as soon as possible, to have her looked over. It was probably a really good idea, but he wanted to make sure she was aware enough to know where he was taking her, and why he was taking her there. All he knew was that he should be quick about it, and not subject her to an ambulance ride, because that would likely freak her the fuck out.
He knew that old saying that if you died in a dream, you really did die, but he never thought it was true...and he was wary of even asking if it was dream related or not. Right now, he was running on adrenaline and assumptions.
If she was given a choice, she definitely would have put up a fight against it. It might have been that the only thing keeping her from dying right that moment was that somewhere in the world where spirits tended to linger before going their own way, she'd desperately wanted to stay. It wasn't her time yet. She had things to do and people to be with.
She'd never believed in things like that. The saying that if you died in your dreams, you really died. That was nothing she ever put any stock in. But with the dream she'd just had still a blur in her mind, she knew without any doubt that there in that dream world, that beam of light had killed her. She had no way of knowing if that had really been the end of her.
There was a pit of fear in her stomach at the thought of what happened if she kept having that dream. How many times would she come back from that? She didn't want to think of it. And Pete was obviously shaken up, out there in the world beyond her eyelids. His grip was likely to break her fingers if he kept on holding her hand that tightly.
She tried to find her voice somewhere, to tell him she was okay. Lacking the energy to to do that, she tried to squeeze his hand instead. She was scared to close her eyes, and instead tried to lock them onto his.
His eyes met hers and were locked in that sort of stare that conveyed just how rattled he was by the whole thing. There was quite a bit of things left unsaid in it, as well. It didn't help that she looked rattled too, and that was why he let go of her hand and hugged onto her, instead.
It was easier than having to look in her eyes, when he started to whisper, his lips right next to her ear, "M'taking you t'Moira...an' don't you ever do that again...s'not allowed...alright?"
The whisper had gone from faint to raw, by the time he said that last word. He also didn't let go of her, as he began to scoot her across the bed, toward the edge, so he could wrap her up in one of his coats he'd left on her floor, and start to get her out to the car. That was his plan, at least. He was going with it, starting right that very moment.
There was absolutely no argument from Neena, not about the mention of Moira, and certainly not about his orders regarding her never doing that again. Despite the fact that she wasn't sure how to NOT do that again, because what if the dream came again?
She couldn't promise anything. That thought terrified her more than the other one had. She had no control over this. She had no way of stopping it. And the rawness in Pete's voice, the fact that he didn't let her out of his sight or even out of arm's length while he wrapped her up in that coat... everything was washing over her like some kind of tidal wave. By the time they were heading out the door, she'd started to cry.
Her mouth still seemed incapable of finding the right words to say, and the tears didn't help that. But whatever strength she had that wasn't involved with crying or fighting the urge to go back to sleep was spent on clinging to Pete with all of her might.
She hoped that conveyed the things she wanted to convey. There were too many things she wanted to tell him, and most of them had no words.
By the time he'd gotten himself dressed enough to leave and the puke wiped off his arm, all one-handedly (he wasn't letting her out of reach, no), he was in one of those states of shocked numbness on just how close it had been, to him losing her. So when she started crying as he got her out the door, he knew this was a very major thing.
As far as he'd ever known, Domino didn't cry like this. He'd never even seen her cry like this. Ever. He'd never heard of her crying like this. If he told anyone who knew the both of them that she was crying like this, then they probably wouldn't believe it.
That was why the only time he let go of her, was to get her into the car. And even then, it was probably like watching someone trying to wrangle a clinging lemur. He quickly gave up, crawled into the car, over her, and twisted around so he was behind the wheel. Of course, he leaned over her to pull the door closed, petted his hand over the top of her head as he fumbled with the keys and tried to stab the car key into the ignition. Literally. Stab stab stab. It'll go in there, eventually. That's what counted.
Domino cried all the way through getting dressed. She cried on the way to the door. She cried on the way to the car, while Pete was getting her into the car, and even after he'd gotten her settled in. She couldn't make the tears stop coming after they'd started. It was the kind of cry a person has every once in a while, after stocking up all of the periods in time they could have cried, before.
She didn't want him to let go of her, either, and had probably fought him a bit while he was trying to detach himself. To hell with him needing to drive somewhere. One of her hands looped around his wrist, or arm, or ... really whatever was closest. Tears were still running down her cheeks.
Mainly, it was the realisation that she had absolutely no control over anything anymore. Dreams came every night that shook her in some way - even the good ones shook her, simply by the fact that they were different and she was different, in them. Not necessarily in a good way. They made her scared of the world, her own house, people in her life, even herself. Now she was having dreams where she died. Her brother was still being held prisoner. She was a puppet being controlled on two sides, and neither puppetmaster had much control, either.
The only good thing in her life right then and there was the man in the car with her, and the things she was going through were slowly starting to break him. How long would he willingly submit himself to that?
A very, very long time. Peter Wisdom was a glutton for punishment, either of the self-inflicted or outside source variety. He was also incredibly stubborn and excessively loyal. If it was someone who had his back before, or that he owed one to, he never faltered when it came down to standing by their side when it counted.
Of course, he'd vehemently deny that to outsiders as well as tell them to get fucked, but that's a whole other story. He didn't want to be viewed as soft, because that simply didn't match up with the bits of him that were very outwardly scary and grumpy and standoffish, for a variety of reasons.
Times like these, so that he kept himself in check, and kept others in check around him, required a certain level of sarcasm and wry observation. He wasn't, by any means, a romantic. Rather, he was a realist and a bit of a cynic. Sometimes, it was a great tense moment breaker, and if he had to be the asshole who was taking one for the team to break a moment with sheer sarcasm or a pat on a girl's ass? Hell, he'd volunteer no matter what was going on, around him.
It was for that reason that - as he started the car - he put one arm around her to pull her closer to him, and said in a profoundly loving manner, "It'll be okay, puke breath. Hold on tight an' I'll try t'take the corners on all four tires."
Vroom. Off they went.
Pete drove her directly to Moira's lab of medical heresy, stat. He did not pass go. He did not collect $200. He didn't bother picking out a game piece, really. He drove. If the roadways of southern Cali were a gameboard, he would've went screeching across the whole thing, ignoring any semblance of set or expected patterns. He'd just go diagonally. And quite possibly through the middle of a china shop. And that was the way he was driving, when he pulled into a parking space...that being about two inches away from the doorway to Moira's laboratory. The car was stopped there. It's not moving again. He started helping Domino out of the car, and it was as though he was trying to guide a frightened animal out of a house fire, by letting it sink its claws in tight so he could run out with it in tow.
The frightened animal in question clung unto him precisely like that, though instead of claws digging in it was mostly fingers gripping onto Pete's arms with as much strength as she could summon. Domino had spent the entire ride clinging onto Pete's arm in a similar fashion, still unable to stop tears from trickling out of her eyes. Eyes which, frankly, she was never closing again, no matter how fucking exhausting today had already been for her. Sleep was not an option. Ever. Again.
Someone tried to direct Wisdom over to the real ER.
He was reluctantly having to agree with that not sleeping ever again thing. Did...was someone speaking at him...?
He pointed a finger and glared at that someone, saying in a low voice that plainly spoke of him being there on a very important business matter, "You will tell MacTaggert that Wisdom is here, and we are going up there, right now. If you try to stop me, I will come o'er that bloody...desk...counter top...thing and I will pull your fucking tongue out, wrap it around your fucking neck, and strangle you. Now fuck off and tell her that." And he was already heading for that elevator, with his spider monkey kinda really girlfriend, with her smudgy blood face and puke breath.
The nurse stared at him, then paged Dr. MacTaggert. He received the go ahead a few moments later.
Moira, meanwhile, put down her work and readied her table. She wondered what sort of combat wound she would deal with this time!
He was so romantic about the puke breath, really. Some day, probably very far from now, they would look back on this and laugh, because of puke breath.
Damn right he did. And that's why he angrily punched a finger on the button to the elevator, and said to the nurse, "Don't you ever fucking speak to me again, while we're at it. Even if I show up, a year from now." And yes, yes they would laugh at puke breath. And his lack of being able to say romantical things. Into the elevator they went, and he was simply relieved they didn't play music over hospital elevator systems, because it probably would've been something vastly inappropriate or horribly ironic at a time like this.
The elevator had an effect on Dom that made her cling to Pete in a way that implied she was not only a spider monkey but also a spider monkey that was very fond of him. It had perhaps dawned on her that today had not only happened, but that it now involved actually being in a hospital. The tears stopped falling at that point.
"Och," Moira said when they came out of the elevator. "What happened this time?"
"Dead happened," was Pete's response as he ushered a very fond of him spider monkey woman toward Moira. He was going to do two things. The first was to make sure Moira checked her the hell out. The second was to smoke a freakin' cigarette, since he hadn't even had time to have a single one since he'd woken up to Dom making noises and found her in bed with a trickle of blood coming out of her mouth. "Dream, probably. I had t'do CPR and everything, there was blood, out of her mouth...so...just...look her o'er would you? For some odd reason or other, I don't think either one o' us would trust anyone else t'do so, at this juncture."
"Och?!"
Tears welled up in Dom's eyes all over again as Pete brought Moira up to speed. She still couldn't find her words, so instead she just sort of nodded her head. She nodded it again in Moira's direction when she 'och'ed. She really hoped Moira didn't call her a bampot again. She absolutely was not letting go of Pete, though.
"Bloody well right, och," Pete spat back at her, and then gave her a warning. "I am having one cigarette. You're welcome t'have one too b'cos you look like an arse that's had the shite kicked out of it. But you will not give me any rubbish about smoking one. Got it?"
Seriously, he gave Moira a staring at, like she looked as though she got less sleep, than they did. All while holding onto Domino, rather protectively.
"Lay her here." Moira became all business, pulling on gloves and bringing her scanner over. It would be quicker than taking her down to the CAT scans, and also a hell of a lot cheaper. She really ought to see if Scotty could break it down and provide a blueprint to make more from - it could save a lot of lives and
Probably. But meanwhile, Pete helped Domino over to where Moira had indicated and left her bundled up in his trenchcoat, even as he helped her lay down and stuck right by her. It was probably a foregone conclusion that she at least had hold of one of his arms, and he was simply standing there, lighting a cigarette, letting her cling on as a safety net, all she wanted.
It was a very accurate conclusion, because Domino absolutely was not letting go of him.
Moira put a hand on Neena's shoulder, "It's safe tae let go o'him, lass. Yuir safe here. Ye willnae be hurt. Just let me get a look at ye an' we can see what happened."
There was a moment where Dom looked like she was trying to find the words to say that it wasn't Moira she feared at this point, but something else entirely. Instead, she chewed her lip and let go of Pete's arm. She looked over at Pete, however, like he better stay nearby.
"M'not going anywhere," Pete was saying, in that tone of voice which let it be known, he was utterly and completely serious. He took one deep drag on the cigarette and the smoke seemed to accentuate each spoken word, "Not budging. Staying right here. If her equipment radiates me, then feck it. M'radiated."
"I need ye tae let go so I can examine ye. Ye say it was a dream?" This was a disturbing implication, and she would have to ask the valarnet later. Just to see if anyone else was experiencing real life side effects to dreams, "Sometimes it's jus' sleep paralysis. But nae pulse? Nae breathin'?"
"I'm imagining so, she hasn't said anything about it, yet," he clarified. "So that's based on an assumption. She hasn't spoken a word. At all."
He shrugged his shoulders as he continued, "No pulse, no breathing, no nothing. Dead as a bloody doornail. It seemed like fore'er, you know 'ow those things are in the midst of it happening...but it wasn't that long. Only seemed like seconds stretched out for hours."
Moira turned to Neena, and used a flashlight to check the dilation of her pupils, "Lass. Yuir here. Ye have a pulse. The scanner is showin' nae internal injuries nor anything tae indicate permanent side effects tae ye brain."
The words weren't very reassuring, somehow. How could she be dead one second and then perfectly fine now? She still couldn't get herself to stop crying. She just shook her head at Moira, and worked her jaw a bit.
"Relax," Moira said gently. "Relax ye muscles, an' ye jaw. Yuir tensed up an' it's locked ye in place. But yuir safe an' sound an ye sour knight in soiled armor saved ye."
"Thurman, you are not going mute on me, I swear to gaaaaaaawd," said Pete, like he will take care of this...if he has to be a dick and take another one for the team, he will. It probably won't be pretty, but...there's nothing pretty about Pete anyway.
Relaxing was easier said than done, really. Dom opened her mouth a few times, but she had nothing to say each time, and ended up just shutting it again. She sat up on the table, and rubbed at her chest, wincing a bit. Her chest hurt, but at least Pete hadn't cracked a rib in the process of giving her CPR. She tried to say that, but couldn't. Even after Pete's comment, she mainly just shook her head.
"There might be some bruisin' from the CPR," Moira assured her.
"Oh no, you're not doing that. Don't you shake yer head at me, girl. M'not having it. Don't make me...do summat that you probably won't like, but if I have to, I'll do it." He understood about the bruising and he wasn't exactly gentle with the CPR, so he got that part. But there had to be other reasons why she wasn't talking, and he remembered too clearly that she had a bout of not speaking, after a different dream, before. That was why he asked Moira, "That's due t'shock probably, isn't it?"
"Aye. It's psychological." Moira picked up a needle, and showed it to Neena, "This will relax ye a wee bit. It will nae put ye tae sleep. It will nae make ye loopy."
Dom looked at it, glanced at Moira, and then shrugged a shoulder. Nothing ELSE in her life was under her control anymore. Needles and relaxing things? Why not. They could lock her up back into that place with the black and white tiles if they wanted to. Maybe they would.
Moria gave her the shot but glanced at Pete worriedly.
She was not going to get locked up anywhere. In fact, the staring down she was getting from Pete was like she'd better ship up or he was going to have to be an envelope pusher, as well as point out the several things she had to pick herself back up after this stumbling block, and go do still. And he was not above pointing that out, even if he had to point it out, in a less than pleasant manner. However, he was giving Moira and her shot the benefit of the doubt. And a moment to see if that would make a dent in...whatever...this was.
Moira was mostly hoping the shot would put Neena at ease. It was mild, very mild. The look she was giving Pete however was very threatening. This was her patient and by god if he freaked Dommy out she was going to jab a knock out cocktail in his arse.
Not if he could help it. He gave MOIRA a stare like he knew what he was doing, and - if he had to - he'd simply bide his time and wait until she wasn't there to do it.
Maybe she'd put a shot in his arse anyway, for old times' sake.
There will be no shots. Pete is staring at her, like there will be no shots, just as it is a case of him smoking right there, and she will give him NO shit about it. He is now honeybadger.
Moira snatched his cigarette from his mouth and put it out on his tie.
After the shot was applied, Dom curled back up onto the table and hugged her legs up to her chest. She was just going to take another ... 5 minutes. Another 5 minutes to process the fact that a dream had killed her and might do it again as early as tomorrow night, before she tried to talk again. There was something kind of relaxing about the idea of just getting locked up somewhere, honestly.
Pete applied his hand to Moira's face, held her out at arm's length, and pointed a finger down at the tip of Domino's nose.
"You. Thurman. I'm serious. You need t'snap out of this b'cos we have a arse ton of shite we need t'do. You have someone t'go save. We have a criminal to question. You have a case t'manage. And...damn it...I fucking love you...and it's going t'be hard t'have a onesided conversation with meself, b'cos I'm not a very good conversationalist. So snap out of it, would you?!"
THEN he let go of Moira's face, and lit another cigarette. Out of spite. And worry.
Moira was too busy gaping at Wisdom to object to the cigarette.
Moira wasn't the only one gaping at Wisdom.
Because a word came out of his mouth Moira had never actually expected to hear from him in this world or the other.
Domino was equally surprised, honestly, though he hadnt really had to say it, not after this morning. It was more the surprise that he had actually vocalised it.
Yeah? Well he said it. He wasn't taking it back. And he meant it, too. So he was just going to stand there, smoking, and not looking at either of them. All right, fine, he peeked at Dommy, saw her gawking and...sort of looked off to one side, because...awkward silences were really bloody awkward.
Moira backed away, and went into the next room.
Sheeeeee'll just be over there now.
The awkward silence was, at least, followed by Dom's hand reaching out to his arm and tugging him over.
"Oh, cheers," Pete said as Moira retreated. Now he was on his own and being tugged over by his possibly mute...friend who was a girl. He was pulled over with the greatest of ease, and finally deemed it safe enough to look at her, again. If anything, his expression conveyed quite a lot of 'wot?' to it, because it wasn't like it wasn't known, after...things...and copious amounts of eyesex and....sex in general, that wasn't only sex but...it happened, so there.
There were possibly a few more awkward moments where Dom tried to make her mouth work again, before she wrapped her arms around him, buried her face in against his chest, and whispered roughly, "I love you, too."
He let out a huge exhale like he'd been holding his breath ever since he woke up. It was the only time he was going to waste a cigarette, too, since he put it out on..whatever was nearby...and started to hug onto her with the sort of fierce clinging to, that people give eachother when they realize they almost lost them. This close call had been entirely too close for comfort. And, whatever else happened from that point forward, at least it was out in the open. The only thing he could really say was a quietly spoken, "Sorry. I should've said it sooner. I always say it too bloody late, seems like."
"...seems like it was right on time to me," Dom whispered, and clung onto him with her arms. She didn't really know if there would have been anything else he could have said to snap her out of that. Reminding her she had a job to do hadn't worked - she knew she had jobs to do. The fact that he was saying it aloud made her aware more than ever that she didn't have to crawl inside herself and handle everything alone. This dream stuff needed to be sorted, though, so she looked up at him, "We need Moira back in here... I need stimulants... something ... I'm not sleeping again."
"Och," Moira muttered to herself, belatedly shutting down the receiver that just let her hear all that. She wiped her eyes.
"No, love, we're both sleeping. We can't stay awake forever. This isn't bloody Nightmare on Elm Street," he said, grateful she was speaking and feeling much the same way she did. After all, he had grown very accustomed to being with her, and couldn't imagine, at this point, being without her again. Even if they did have their own things to work on.
It was also nice that...maybe, for once..it was right on time. He never took the 'I love you's very lightly, and never said it flippantly or carelessly, so it was a major ordeal he even said it, at all. He'd practically asked someone else to marry him, before, like right after he finally got around to saying the love thing, and look how well that had turned out. He felt better about it this time, though, even if every step of the way had been unplanned. The dreams, included, because they were throwing some very major kinks into things. "We talk it out, b'tween us. That's all we can do, an' try t'sort it out. But enough of this shite. It's eating at us, otherwise."
"Pete..." Dom sighed, and looked up into his eyes. She wanted him to looking at her while she said this, because honestly, aside from chickens and hospitals, there were very few things that actually utterly terrified her. This situation utterly terrified her, "How many times... are you going to be able to resuscitate me... before you can't, anymore?"
"...as many times as it happens," he flat out told her, in the sort of stiff upper lip British tone of voice and sheer bearing, that said he could and would do that, as many times as he was confronted with the situation. Because it was her. And if he had to give his left arm and both legs, he's start drawing a dashed line on his limbs and ask for someone to hand over a hacksaw so he could get to cuttin'.
"Someday you'll try and I won't come back." Her voice trembled, and it looked like she was about to start crying again.
Moira picked that moment to come out, "I dunnae think that will be a problem, but we can hook somethin' tae ye that would give ye an alarm should ye heart stop." She could also implant something that would SHOCK it in that case, but actually doing heart surgery on a healthy person? No.
"How is an alarm going to save me if it's already STOPPED?" This did not sound like a helpful plan. The other thing would have, if it'd been mentioned.
"Neena, neither one of us can say wot's going to happen. So if we come to that bridge, and that happens, then I'll cross o'er it, when I need to. Until then, I don't want t'think on it...and...there's that. Let's let MacTaggert do that. If you want." If it made her feel better about what-if scenarios, then Pete was all for it. "Maybe it'll buzz and I can come give you a punch in the sternum, Thurman."
"It would alert HIM tae get tae work!"
"That. Wot she said," Pete added, in a state of inner disbelief because he was agreeing with Moira.
"No. That's not good enough." Despite whatever Moira had given her that was making her try to relax, now that she'd snapped out of everything she was back to her normal kind of freak out, which was the nervous energy kind. She hopped down off the table and started pacing, "I don't have any control over anything anymore and I can't control what these dreams are doing to me or make them stop or even be selective about which one is coming next, but I can fucking stop sleeping."
"You can't. That'll kill you. Even I know that," Pete said like a bloody know-it-all. He leaned back against the table and watched her pace, like this? This was just her being her, and he damn well knew it and was used to it.
"It's impossible. Even with enough stimulants yuir heart would burst an' ye'd die writhing on the ground in pain defecating on yuirself!"
"At least I'd die FIGHTING instead of just getting blasted to death by a fucking laser beam in a dream coming out of some metal thing's HAND!" Dom shouted, in response.
"Shiteing yuirself isnae fighting!"
Pete simply held one hand and pointed at Moira, poking his index finger against her face and jabbing it, in a 'wot she said, right THERE' sort of way. "No, we are not having this discussion. We are going t'try to live as normally as bloody possible, and I am not watching you try t'stay awake, cleaning guns and sharpening knives, b'cos you will mess up, an' hurt yerself somehow or other. We aren't going t'let this drive us nutters."
"YOU didn't just die in your sleep!"
"No, actually, I didn't." He was busy in his sleep, wiping out what felt like half of Thailand. At least he'd stopped poking Moira in the face. "But if I have t'do wot I did, again, then I would. I'm still saying we can't simply not sleep, luv. Wote'er happens, we'll deal with it. When and if it happens."
"I cannae believe I'm about tae say this, but Wisdom is bein' the voice o'reason."
Domino looked from Pete, to Moira, and realised that at this point in time she was clearly outnumbered. She crossed her arms over her chest, and sighed, "Alarm thing, then."
"I'll show WIsdom how tae help ye put it on an' off," Moira promised. "Remove yuir shirt, its nothin' we havenae seen before."
"Say it more, MacTaggert. It was music to me ears," was the sarcastic reply, and he nodded like he could agree to it, as well as the coat being taken off.
What? He's not dead.
"Och. Right, yuir naked already. Easy." She got out the device, which was basically an external heart monitor, "Ye wear it like this. an' use these tae help hold it in place when ye sleep. Then ye stick the diodes here, an' voila. Surgery free heart alarm!"
To Pete? It looked like another thing for her to idly nom on, in her sleep, sort of like she did to her hair. He wondered how long it would last.
Fortunately the wires could withstand anything short of a knife.
It would probably last until Domino felt comfortable enough to not bother with it. Or until she chewed through the wires in her sleep like a rabbit.
"Och...okay. What I want BOTH of ye tae start doin' is WRITIN' DOWN THESE DREAMS! I've been doin' t'same tae mine." Moira looked at both of them pointedly, "This is important. So we can see if there's any correlation or repeated themes."
"Repeated themes? I MENTIONED the fact that I was someone's science experiment, right? Do you really want me to write that shit down?" Domino looked at Moira like she was crazy.
"I'm not letting you see it. No one sees them. I'll tell Thurman an' me sis. If you turn up, MacTaggert. I'll tell you. That's it. There will be no written record and I'm not drawing diagrams, either." That was his final word on the matter.
"Laddie an' Lass, ye dunnae have tae show me, or each other. But it might help ye both." She shot another look at Neena, "Especially ye."
"M'not writing shite down. If Thurman wants to, that's her business an' her call." Pete lit another cigarette.
Moira put a hand to Pete's forehead, casually, then jotted down a note.
He gave her a staring down, like he'd been meaning to ask about that...because it wasn't going away. But he was waiting to hear what Dom was going to say to the writing stuff down, and so he was quiet and let it fall by the wayside.
"...I'll think about it."
Dom picked Pete's coat back up and wrapped it back around her, then tucked the monitor into one of the pockets, "Since I'm not dead and physically fine, I have work to do."
"Jus' remember tae relax. The both of ye." Moira started putting a few things away. She paused, then walked over to a drawer and pulled out a kit. She brought it over to Pete, "Pure adrenaline. Jab it intae her heart if CPR fails. Ye get three of these. Ye may want tae consider one of those zappy things they sell for emergency home use."
"And I'm going t'work with her," said the chainsmoking bastard, pushing himself away from the exam table he'd been leaning against and looking ready to go. He took the kit and nodded with a grunt in the affirmative, because that wasn't a bad idea. "I might have t'agree with you. This means that hell's probably frozen over."
"Ye probably wilnae need either. But it cannae hurt."
The gesture of the kit was meant to reassure Dom, and she nodded at Moira in thanks. There was an inner part of her that realised things were that bad, but she swallowed that down. She'd freaked out enough for everyone today, "Sorry we barged in like this. Bye."
"Call next time. Please." Moira added, jokingly, "So if Wisdom is dyin' call ahead an' make an appointment that afternoon."
"We'll make do. How much do ya want for this adventure, an' when's the last time YOU'VE slept?" Pete puffed on his cigarette and arched one eyebrow up MacTaggert, pointing with...the kit...toward Dom that maybe she should hold on. Just a minute more. Calling would've been good but he honestly was only on the GOD DAMN IT DO NOT DIE AGAIN portion of his day. "Oi, you, sod off an' go t'bed."
Moira grinned, "I've been workin' really hard. But yuir right, I need tae sleep myself. I have a cot in my office."
"Go home," Pete crankily told her, with a scowl. Great, now he was probably going to owe a IOU to MacTaggert after all the crap she'd been doing for them. Ugh, just ugh...but if she hadn't come through the last few times...there would've been complications and issues. Thus she just made his loyalty list.
"Maybe."
He did, however, take out his wallet and threw down as much money as he had in it, for her time and trouble. Pete gave her a staring down. "No maybe. Go home. Sleep. Shut up."
Dom took the kit out of Pete's hands and headed out of the office, toward the car. He could keep talking to Moira if he wanted, but she needed to send a text to Wade and focus on things besides ... well ... most of everything in her life right now.
He followed behind Domino, because...he was pretty much done talking, after that.
Moira waved at them. Pete's temperature had been up - but she'd been expecting that.