caveofsapphires | What a strange, strange man

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What a strange, strange man

WHO: Twitch (Dr. Grant)
WHAT: Twitch is new here. He has no idea what's going on, but he's going to be exploring and doing some reading.
WHERE: The cave, specifically the library
WHEN: Immediately after his arrival (April 10th)

This place was strange. Stranger than the facility on the island had been. At least then, it had felt familiar, even if he hadn't understood why he knew his way around the facility. But this wasn't something completely knew, and on top of that, his dream hadn't been real? But that part... that part made sense.

They hadn't told him what the accident had involved. Maybe it was what made him like this, unsure of what was going on. Unsure of even his own name. The name "Allen Grant" held nothing for him. But then, "Twitch" had been something the children in his dream had called him because of his ever present nervous tick. It had been something he enjoyed, a name more real sounding than anything else, but he didn't exactly want to get in trouble for calling himself something that he was told wasn't real.

Twitch was a much better name for himself, because he would be a terrible doctor. His hands shook all the time. About the only time he was able to hold them steady was... well. He hadn't exactly found a consistent manner in which he was able to hold his hands steady.

It must have been a terrible accident, though, for him to not remember his name. To not have a name even in his dream. How many years had he been in the hospital? The photograph of him was quite old and he did look younger, maybe by ten years or so.

His head hurt, and the place was making him disoriented and confused. It was why he found himself, after a long time, at the library. Maybe he could find something here. Something about the city as it used to be, before the Disaster. Maybe he could find some newspaper clippings about himself here. About what made him into this scared, nervous wreck of a man. About the accidents. Anything at all.

He had been told he was respected, surely he was well liked enough that there would be something?

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Because he was the sort of person who did what he was told, Aziraphale reported to the Library immediately after examining his flat and taking a look at his proof. Having said a perfunctory hello to his temporary coworkers, he was now digitally organizing e-books with all the skill of one who had only briefly touched a computer previously and had mostly used it for googling, and the enthusiasm of a society lady handling carrion.

"This is ridiculous," he muttered, oblivious to the world around him. Banging the side of the terminal he was working on, he stood up angrily with the intent to storm off and turned around, only to find a trembling man wandering off into the stacks and out of his line of sight.

What on Earth? Peering around the edge of the nearest shelf, he mumbled ancient obscenities as the man disappeared again. Those two glimpses, though, had convinced him that the gentleman was not all there.

"Are you all right?" he called after him, beginning to walk quickly down the stacks.

When Twitch noticed him, he was still shaking slightly, but he managed to straighten himself out as much as possible, giving an awkward smile. He didn't speak. It was nothing personal, he never spoke that much, but he raised a hand, nodding a bit. He was fine. Just a little confused about the whole situation.

But, he supposed, he should speak. He should say something. Something that made it clear that he wasn't trying to be rude. "I'm okay," he said in a low, quiet voice. It was hoarse, and sounded like someone who had gotten out of the habit of speaking. "I'm just looking for something."

"Oh?" Aziraphale brightened. "And what are you looking for? I might be able to help you find it. I am technically supposed to be a librarian, after all."

He did not miss the hoarseness, nor the reluctance to speak. Twining his fingers together tightly, he wondered if he should ask what had happened. The nasty voice in the back of his head, so frequently associated with Crowley, wondered whether he actually wanted to help or merely was morbidly curious.

"Newspaper records," he said after a moment. "On a doctor," he glanced around the library, rather overwhelmed. Would he be able to learn anything at all? "Or um. Medical books. That sort of thing." It wasn't his intent to blow off the other man, but he was lost and confused.

Aziraphale tapped his fingers together, wrists propped against his chest. "Medical books, yes, I should be able to find them." He cocked his head at how jittery the doctor was. "Do you happen to know the name of the doctor? I can look up famous doctors but it would be much easier to find if I had something more to go on."

He nodded. "His name is Dr. Allen Grant." He paused, a little awkwardly, glancing around again, as though he was expecting to get attack. "He's. Um. Me. My name here."

"Ah. I see." Aziraphale frowned. "Well, let's start with the medical books. We'll get you set up with those and then see what we can find in the database."

Standing, he turned the corner and made his way to the section a few rows over where the medical histories were located.

"I... don't need to learn a lot," Twitch confessed. "I want to learn how I hurt my head," he said, one finger touching at his temple. He was, of course, aware that it wasn't possible that he was always this way. He had been a doctor. That indicated that, at one point, he had been a competent man. It was just a matter of finding out what had happened to him, and if there was any sort of way to get better.

"If there are still records."

"Hm. Records it is, then." Aziraphale abruptly changed directions and headed back to the terminal he'd been working on, hoping Twitch would follow. "Were you very famous?" he asked absently as he focused very hard on typing the name into the database. "And how long ago were you injured?"

"I... I was told I was respected," he said slowly. "But I don't think I was famous." He hoped, though, that it would be in the records. But he didn't know how long ago he had been injured. It could have been at any point after the photograph was taken. "All I know was that it was some time before the Disaster," he admitted, trembling a bit.

"I see." He frowned again, navigating the technology with some difficulty. "This looks right . . . 'Allen Grant still receiving hospital treatment'. Here - " He stood up, giving Twitch his seat. "Have a look."

He sat down, reading the article. No, there wasn't anything about the accident in particular. Though he knew his mind wasn't what it used to be, he had a feeling what it was. Something had happened to his head. Something to make him forget who he was, to forget everything. "Nothing," he said with disappointment. "It... it just says 'an accident.'"

Maybe he could make it to the hospital. Maybe there would still be patient records there.

"Sorry," Aziraphale said, and he was, the fellow looked so crestfallen. "Maybe there's more. I can keep looking!"

His head shook. "No. I.... I think I'm..." he paused, trailing off. "I'll look for information at the hospital. If it's still standing."

"Of course. Of course." Aziraphale straightened his tie, unsure how else to help. "I do wish you the best of luck. . . . "

He smiled an awkward sort of smile. "I only hope it's still there."

"If it's not, find me straightaway," Aziraphale said firmly. "There's always information to be found somewhere."

"Thank you," Twitch said, his smile much more natural now. "Mr...?"

"Gates," Aziraphale said, with some discomfort. "John Gates. And of course I know your name already," he added, brightening up.

He brightened at that. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Gates."

"And you, Dr. Grant." Aziraphale inclined his head slightly. He was rather pleased as he walked back to his desk. That could have gone much more strangely. Still, what an intriguing gentleman.

The morning found Elena in the library again, sitting cross-legged in one of the plush armchairs with a rather antique-looking book cradled in her lap. She was still having a hard time wrapping her head around the differences between this place's history, and the history of Earth. There were actually a lot of similarities, like the lifestyles, but other than that, it was a completely different world.

She looked up, startled, when she heard the door crash open, and saw a man fumble into the library. Was he... drunk? If she'd picked up anything from her time with Damon, it was that there was a classy and not classy time for drinking. And now was definitely not classy. It was times like these that she still wished to have the vampy super strength/speed.

"Mister," Elena began evenly, brushing her hair behind her ear where it had fallen out of the loose ponytail she'd gathered it in. "Are you alright? You look a bit..." Frazzled? Completely out of it? "...confused." she finished.

He jumped, but when he turned and saw her, he smiled. He wrung at his hands a bit, nodding. "I... I think I'm okay," he said after a moment. Though his voice was low and hoarse, he words didn't slur. He ran a hand through his hair as he looked around the library. "I was hoping to find something here," he said after a moment, examining one of the computers with interest. "I was... told that I was a doctor. I'm trying to find if there's anything on me here."

His head craned a bit, a little sheepishly. "Trying to find out about the accident. Why I'm like this."

"I wouldn't get my hopes up," Elena said with a nearly apologetic look, holding up the history book in her arms as if it were proof. "I've been in here every day, and I haven't come across anything about the... accident yet."

Though she'd figured since this was technically her job, there was no hurry for her to find everything that she needed. Elena had started from ground up; skimming through the earliest parts of history.

Though why would he come to a library to find information about himself? And when he said 'like this', did he mean that his body also changed...? "Were you some kind of famous doctor?"

He smiled a little weakly. "It's okay. I don't know if there's any way for me to find out." He glanced at a terminal, sitting down at the desk. "I don't know if I was famous," he admitted, his voice going even quieter for a moment. "I think people liked me." He also looked happy in the photograph.

"I... I... I don't think it matters, anyway." It was different talking to her than it had been talking to the scared children in his dream. Maybe he had been a doctor for children. It would explain some things.

Elena sat down in a chair slightly closer to the terminal he was at, resting her book on her knees. He looked so nervous and twitchy, she felt obligated to soften her voice a little when she questioned, "Did you just wake up?"

He nodded, a little uncomfortably, trying to stop his twitching as much as was possible by sheer will alone. "My dream was really strange. It didn't make a lot of sense. So I... I'm thinking the reason was because I'm disabled," he said, tapping on his head. "I've injured my head. Grown men... they don't act like me," he said, rather gloomily. "I'm hoping I can find some sort of information on me. And treatment."

"Did you try the hospital?" she questioned. Who would think to come to a library first to find information on their injuries, or mental disabilities? That was... strange.

"I think they'd be more helpful than some dusty books, or a database."

"Probably," Twitch agreed. "But I was wondering if there would be a newspaper report on the accident. "If I was really as well respected as I was told... I'd... I think that the community would have something about it, right?"

"I guess it wouldn't hurt..." Elena said, giving him an uncertain look. "But you should probably still go to the hospital afterwards. It might be an... effect, from sleeping so long."

He seemed to believe what they'd been told about this world, so she played along.

He nodded, attempting a smile to ease her look. "If it's standing, I'll look for it." He had no reason to believe that his dream wasn't a lie. What they had told him made sense, and he assumed that everyone had thought about it the same way. "Thanks."

Jonas had been a constant fixture in the library since he'd woken up in this strange place. He'd down quite a bit of research but felt even more lost. There was a lot of information...just no real way to put it together.

It was about time he took a break. He stood up from the console and stretched a bit before looking around. That's when he spotted the rather distressed looking man who'd just entered. He immediately walked over and put out a hand. "Hey, are you alright?"

"Yeah," Twitch said, smiling slightly, voice low, rubbing at his head. "I'm... I'm always like this." He knew the twitching didn't look too good. Even the children who had been afraid of him had picked up on it, though they were too afraid to approach him. "I'm just... looking for information."

Jonas knew a thing or two about getting odd looks, plus his training as a diplomat helped him to keep a steady expression. That is, until he smiled at what the man had come here for. "I think we all are at this point. Would you like to sit down first?" He asked, still concerned.

He nodded, a bit shyly, sitting down, hands folded into his lap. "Sorry, it's... it's my brain. Doesn't work really well." He figured it was self evident, but he wanted to prove that he was competent and coherent enough to be able to say so himself. Maybe not quite able to take care of himself by continuing to be a doctor, but he hoped he'd be able to do something.

"I don't think any of us are running quite up to top shape since we awoke." Jonas said, reassuringly, though he did understand what the man meant. He, with his increased brain capacity, was feeling lost so he couldn't imagine what the other man was going through. "I'll help you look if you like. My name's John." Normally he would have given both names but he didn't want to confuse him.

He nodded. "Thanks, John, any help would be appreciated."

"Of course! Where would you like to start?" Jonas asked. In truth, he could use a break from his own research as his even his brain was getting tired trying to take it all in.

"Uh," Twitch paused, thinking. "Anything about myself in the records. Things that would be public record." He couldn't very well dig through hospital records without having a clue where the hospital he was at was. "Anything about my accident." He wasn't sure where to begin. If it was possible to find out at all.

"Finding public records of an accident shouldn't be too hard." Jonas stood up and waved over to one of the computer terminals. "If you want to join me, we can search together. I prefer books myself but it seems like these terminals are the way to go in this place."

"I wish it was easier to look up. But I guess we should be grateful that there are any records at all," he said. But now came the whole looking for information thing. He had a feeling he knew why he hadn't been told what had happened exactly. It wasn't that no one knew so much as no one wanted to tell him. "I just hope that there's something, you know?"

Jonas nodded. "Something is better then being in the dark." Once they were both seated by the terminal, he started with a simple records search. "What's your name?"

"Grant. Allen Grant," he said. "I haven't found much. Just something about me being hospitalized. Nothing to go on." He didn't think that there was even an explanation that he would find. Maybe in the city proper he could break into the hospital, and...

"I just need something to go by. Something that isn't a newspaper clipping."

"We'll find something." Jonas said in his most reassuring tone as he typed in the name and let the computer get to work. "I think we all need some reassure about our lives here." He could sympathize. All he'd been able to find was descriptions of his research, never the research itself. He could only hope that it was waiting for him in this mysterious city.

"It seems weird, doesn't it? Why would the information be so limited?" he asked. "I mean I wouldn't expect to find information that's not common knowledge, but so much of what the database has seems to be fairly vague." Maybe it was intentional on the part of the people who ran the Cave, he couldn't be sure.

But it bothered him just the same, and he was glad to meet someone else who had noticed how little information was actually available.

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What a strange, strange man

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