InsaneJournal

"I can't let you go anywhere, can I?"
Who: Domino, Moira MacTaggert, Pete Wisdom
What: Aftermath of the wedding dress shopping adventure, in which Dom went clunk and bridal shop attendents were all "Zomg did she bleed on the dress?!" The reason for the passing out is medically explained within zis log, along with other revelations & insighty things.
When: After The Great Shopping Caper and subsequent phonecalls.
Where: Moira's laboratory. Like Dexter's Lab, only with added "Och."
Rating: PG13 - language, nothing out of the usual for this bunch
Status: Complete!



Moira had gotten Neena in and hooked her up to her scanner. There were a few things unusual she was already noticing. An old incision scar that hadn't been there last time but looked to be years old, and there was something new where that gap had been. "Och..."

Nearby, Dom was about half conscious and fighting through what felt like the thickest fog in the world which had settled into her head. She couldn't even see straight, and was honestly just grateful that Moira'd thought to hook her up to something for the pain. She grunted as the 'Och' managed to make it's way through everything, "Nngh?"

And then they proceeded to make noises at one another, no one else could decipher.

"Aye." Moira replied.

Meanwhile, Pete had made his way inside and flipped off the front desk lady before she could open her mouth to say 'they're waiting' or 'you know the way up' or 'screw you asshole' or anything like that. He continued doing that until the elevator doors had closed, and he had to refrain from doing that to Moira the moment he left the elevator and went into her medical laboratory of doom. He made his way in and over to Dom's side, as close as he could manage that without getting in Moira's way. What she was doing looked important.

"All right, then?" he said under his breath, "She looks like hell. Please tell me she's not got brain worms or the likes. Oh, sorry. I mean? You look beautiful, luv. Hell is a wonderful place, like Disneyland. On acid. To make it better, n' brighter, n' more colorful."

He stared at Moira like he he hoped she could HELP here.

"She's got a chip," Moira announced, swiveling a screen to show him. "Even comes complete with scar that wasnae there last time she was here. But it's tae old tae be recent!" She showed him some other readings, "It's like her body is realigning itself."

Breaking through the fuzzy in her head were the words 'hell', 'brain', 'beautiful', 'disneyland', and 'chip'. Dom felt like she ought to be in a bit of a panic about that last word, and let out a bit of a high pitched noise. The hand that wasn't hooked up to an IV went fishing around for Pete's - because that voice was unmistakably his. And she needed his hand.

"Oh that's....magnificent, really. More bleed o'er from elsewhere, I'd suspect." Taking hold of her hand and making a calming shhh sound to let her know he was there, Pete looked down at Neena, visibly worried. If this had happened earlier, why hadn't he noticed enough to not let her go bouncing through malls dress shopping or whatever it was that girls did when they were in places like that. Sure, he looked at the readings, but he wasn't a doctor or a scientist. He got the gist of it, quickly, but not the entire scope. "Wot's it aligning itself to...can you tell? Or is it simply all fuck you, m'doing wot I want all of a sudden."

"Most likely. Same place me scanner came from." Moira swiveled it back, shaking her head, "It's like it materialized inside her brain. Probably while she was conscious. For all we know it's been doin' this for weeks an' that would explain how she's seein' things."

There was much squeezing of Pete's hand, though Dom already felt better just knowing he was there. Her brain still felt foggy, and there was this odd buzzing in the back of her head. It was really hard to explain. She cracked an eye open to see if she could see straight yet, and when that worked, tried words, "...chip?"

"In yer head," Pete told her, as reassuringly as anyone could tell another person they had a chip in their head. Yet, he somehow pulled it off. "I can't let you go anywhere, can I? Miss Accident-Waiting-t'Happen."

Because if you can't snark at the ones you love in situations like this, to break the tension? When could you snark?

Moira nodded her head, "Aye. I'm watchin' ye brain rewire itself tae work with the chip better as we speak."

"No. No no no no nononono..." Dom mumbled, while also trying to shake her head from side to side. Which was hard, because not only did it feel foggy, but also heavy and like it was stuffed with cotton or something, "No chip ... no rewiring. Take it out..."

"Lass, I cannae without killin' ye," Moira said softly. "But we might be able tae shut it off..."

"Oh bloody hell, I honestly don't know wot t'say. I don't like it in there either, Neena, but..." But, at the same time, there'd been something missing there, on the scans before. And the last thing he wanted was any thoughts of it killing her if it was taken out. Who knew what would happen if it was shut off, if it was being rewired back in. "Would shutting it off be safe, either? It wouldn't hurt 'er, like removing it would. Would it?"

"I dunnae know what it does yet," Moira admitted. "Without knowin' that much we cannae risk anything."

"So, we wait." Thus spoke mister practicality. "Not worth the risk then."

"It wasn't even ... there this morning. Now it's going to kill me if we ... that's insane..." Dom closed her eyes again. She knew for a fact it wasn't there, because it suddenly appearing was probably what had caused that pain to begin with, "I was trying on a dress and it felt like something had spiked its way into ... the back of my head, and down my spine."

Randomly, she wondered what had happened to that dress. She was only in her underwear and a blanket. When had that even happened.

"I dunnae know what tae say, Neena. It wasnae there before, aye, but now it is, magicked intae ye brain like it's always been there.I'm nae sure how tae turn it off but..." She narrowed her eyes, "och...I see...oh yuir a weasly little bairn aren't ye..."

Moira swiveled the screen, "Here, ye can see the electrical impulses that shoot down ye spine, here. An' if ye look closely..." At this she zoomed in, "The chip is spreadin' filaments. Ye can already see it has the effect of weakenin' yuir natural body's work."

Dom struggled to sit up a bit so she could get a better look at the screen, then squinted at it, "... it's ... what? Filiments. Down my spine. ...wait. What?" She rubbed at her face with her hand, like that would somehow help it all sink in better, but it just really wasn't.

"It's a bad chip, lass," Moira clarified. "It makes ye powers nae work sae well."

"... is that what that buzzing at the back of my head is?" Dom rubbed back there, finger touching on the scar that was now there. She just didn't even know what to... or even how to deal with... someone at some point had put a chip in her head in that other place and now it was here?

"Aye, I'd say so, lass. It's usin' ye own body tae power itself, tae. Not enough tae feel any effects, at least." That technology existed, even today.

"Let me get this..." Dom took a deep breath and let it out, trying desperately not to panic. The drugs certainly helped with that, "A chip spontaneously manifested itself into my ... brain... and is now invading my spine with filaments... and my brain is rewiring itself... and you can't remove it without killing me."

"Not yet, at any rate. But we might be able tae deactivate it if I study it."

Dom glanced at Pete, then back at Moira, "Would this explain the other ... symptoms I've had lately? ... and... is it physically... am I okay now. Aside from the foggy head, and feeling like its stuffed with cotton, and general pain."

"I wouldnae be surprised," Moira said, curiously. "If yuir body was cravin' the chip's presence."

"It's not going to give me cancer or brain bleeds or anything, right?" She wanted all her bases covered.

Moira peered at the readout and then adjusted a few things, "I dunnae think sae. I mean ye can never be 100% certain with a foreign object but there's nothing radioactive an' unless it moves around it shouldna have any other sideeffects other than the buzzing. The weakness an' fogginess will go away, but ye reflexes will be dulled because ye powers got dulled."

Now Pete had something more to worry about, not just with Dom but...that crumb in the oven, that hadn't yet turned into a bun, and wasn't expected to. So he was silently holding Dom's hand, simply listening and absorbing it all, numbly filing it all away in his head. The universe hated them. It really really did. Or he had some bad karma from a past life, or...Romany esoterical weirdness stuff. "If...say...hypothetically...there were a crumb...an' it was in an oven...an' the cord to the oven had some frays an' things in it, would the crumb stick in the oven or would the oven door pop open an' the crumb fall out?"

Pete. He's good at code words and stuff.

"Or," he continued, “if it lands on the floor, we can't exactly cram it back in the oven, can we?"

"Och?" Moira moved the scanner around and peered at it. "I'm nae seeing any unusual readin's. Hormones don't look out o'whack. I mean, nae out o'whack in a way they shouldn't be if she's got a wee bairn."

"Well the pee stick said yes an' she said she was goin' t'kill me," Pete said, flat out, making it more obvious. "Maybe it fell out already."

Pete. Making things easier by talking more.

Seriously. He needs to have his own billboards and stuff. Or a book of his bastardism quotes.

Dom had been scared to even ask, and was now looking back and forth between Pete and Moira, "Am I? ... Is it still in there?"

"Aye." Moira said, smile cautiously.

"So it is in there," Pete asked, like it needed further confirmation. "I'm going t'pass out now." He wasn't really, but he did give Dom's hand another reassuring squeeze.

Moira didn't know if they wanted to keep it or not. So she just nodded her head.

"Why do you look so cautiously optimistic about this?" Dom glanced at Moira. She was practically waiting for the other shoe to drop. The one where she was too old for this or the kid would now be born with webbed feet or something. She did squeeze Pete's hand, though.

Moira shrugged a shoulder, "I dunnae know what ye tae feel about it. I'm nae here tae cast judgement. I'm just here tae help ye nae die. An' the wee bairn nae die if that's what ye want. Although at this stage it's as much luck as good diet an' exercise."

If it wasn't too obvious, Pete's chin was tipped upward and he had a bit of a smug, self-satisfied smirk on his face, like he had so crumbed the future missus. He had crumbed her so hard, and he was bloody well damned proud of it. Webbed feet or not. That would be fine if it did have them, because then Romany could really call it 'duck' a lot. So it simply fits, and he doesn't care.

"This isn't going to make it ... bad or anything, right? Chip and filiments and crap?" Dom arched a brow at Moira, "What if I die in my sleep again, will it stick if he brings me back long enough? Do I ... just... yes, we want it, so tell me how not to screw this up."

"Wote'er happens happens. I think we'll 'ave to discuss it, but m'not opposed if the crumb wants t'cling to the inside o' the oven," he finally added. "I mean, we can try, but...all those things she said. Right. How do we not screw it up."

"I cannae say for sure. All ye can do is take it one day at a time, " Moira replied, moving the scanner out of the way a bit. "I can get ye some documents so ye can read up on what tae do tae have the most healthy pregnancy." Moira tapped her finger on her lip, "Do ye remember when I told ye yuir body seemed a wee bit younger than yuir years? Are ye SURE yuir almost thirty-nine???"

Pete looked at Moira like she was nutters, because people usually were pretty sure of their own age, unless they were a vegetable.

"... yes, I am very sure. The cult kept thorough records and the hospital looked us over for a week before they punted me to the nuthouse." Dom gave her a look, "Lately I've felt like I'm 103."

"Lass yuir body is healther than a woman ten years yuir junior. Even ye breasts seem firmer than they were last time ye were here. That can only spell good things for the bairn."

"Did you feel 'er up or summat? That's my job," Pete protested, giving Moira a scowling at. How dare her! He needs to check and...that was why he was staring at Dom's boobs, like they were something worthy of very close scrutiny.

"... OKay. Well. Give me pamphlets and paperwork and vitamins and crap. And we should probably unhook me from the morphine now." Dom didn't even wait for Moira on that one, she pressed down and yanked the needle out on her own.

"Wot the bloody heeeeeelllllllllllll." Of course, Pete had let go of her hand, because the girlfriend? She was gung ho and going for it. "Couldn't you wait for her t'do that?"

"It's bad for the kid! Just get me a bandaid, I'm fine." Dom snerked.

"If the kid's still in there," Pete reminded her, "it's made of feckin' titanium an' sheer willpower as it is. Pity's sake."

Moira rolled her eyes. She'd learned these two enough to just accept that. She was already gathering up some pamphlets to give to them. She was a little excited. She liked wee bairns, obviously!

With a deep breath, Dom sat straight up and swung her legs over so they were dangling off the table. Being upright was making things foggy, and she still felt weak as a kitten, but the important part as far as she was concerned was the sharp stabbing pains were gone. And crumb kid was somehow still in there. Amazing.

The part where she was medically 30 or something? That part just wasn't even sinking in. Chip in her head? She was going to ignore that for now.

That was splendid. Now his hot older woman fiance was a medically younger than he was hot fiance. It didn't matter to him either way, since it was still Dom, just with younger guts and stuff. He gave her a pat on the knee and a grin, before holding both hands out to her, to help her down off the table, and hopefully keep her from falling over.

If there was to be no standing on her own, then he was there for spidermonkey to cling onto.

Moira thrust about 60 pamphlets into Pete's hands. And then a full medical print out and the readings on the chip.

"I'm a household drudge," he murmured while staring at the pamphlets. That lasted only a couple token seconds before Pete began to shove them into his coat pockets, so he could keep his hands free. Free to help Dom out, of course. "I need nicotine patches now. For those times when m'not outside, chainsmoking."

"Thank god," Moira intoned.

"Did they bring my things in the ambulance? My clothing, my gun..." Dom was still sitting there in her underwear, which was starting to get chilly and really embarrassing. She took Pete's hands, though, and let herself hop down. She almost instantly leaned against him afterwards.

"Oh, god. Here. Coat." He started trying to take his coat off to wrap it around her, while simultaneously not letting her fall over and looking around for her things. "If they're not here, then Kitty would've grabbed them. Don't worry about it."

"I dunnae know. Yuir things are over there." She pointed, "Kitty probably took care of yuir shopping things."

But what had happened to the dress? Dom had been wearing it when she'd passed out. Had they stripped her? God that was embarrassing. She hoped she didn't get blood on the thing. And her underwear... Dom ran a hand up into her hair, trying not to panic, "Is it bad luck when you get a nosebleed from a spontaneous chip in your head and then pass out from the agony in the dress you want to get married in? I ... just really hope not, because that dress was gorgeous."

"I'm certain it was. I'll send Kitty a message, later. But you need t'get home an' into bed, missus," he said, putting the coat around her. "You don't need t'worry on and on about it, right now. I'll try to convince her t'stop by an' bring anything she might have."

He did look over at Moira and, at least, there was a bit less hate than previously encountered. "Cheers, MacTaggert. There anything I should contact you about, like if she goes funny? Yer essentially 'er doctor anyway."

Moira nodded her head, "Get some rest. It may take a few days for ye tae lose the fuzziness an' fog."

"You're certain it was bad luck!?" Dom frowned, then looked between them like she was trying to keep up with the conversation. She wanted to leave with clothing on, and started wobbling in the direction of the bag with her clothing in it.

"No, that it looked good on you." He watched her go, letting her stubborn it out, but following along behind her, ready to catch her. "Not that it's bad luck. Either way, no wedding bells for you. Bed. I am the warden and yer the prisoner, who's on bed rest. Yer fine. Yer going 'ome. Wear the coat. I'll carry that."

"...No?" Dom frowned, and tucked the coat around her more, in that case. Why weren't there going to be wedding bells now? Why couldn't she wear clothing? What was going on? God, the fog in her head. She gave up trying to be stubborn though, and just clung onto him.

"No. It's fine. I'll turn the heater on in the car. We're going now. Moira? If you go through any o' yer data an' find anything we should know about, then send me a message. But m'going to take her home, right the hell now." He grabbed the bag with her things in it and kept one arm protectively around her, to help guide her out. "Cheers, send us the bill. I'll pay it."

"I'll send ye a message as soon as I figure it out. Don't ye worry. Get that woman intae a bed!"

Dom pretty much had no say in this, and just let Pete lead her out.

"I am, I am...don't nag," he was saying as he helped her to the elevator because - nope - she has no say in the bed resting part. Because she? Was so going to do that, asap.