Young Folks

"If I told you things I did before, told you how I used to be
Would you go along with someone like me?
If you knew my story word for word, had all of my history
Would you go along with someone like me?

Usually when things has gone this far
People tend to disappear
No one will surprise me unless you do..."
Peter Bjorn and John, Young Folks

I picked Gunnar up from LAX this afternoon. We had a ... chat? discussion? talk?
I don't know what to call it. We talked, and we clarified some things.
Complicated some others.

He started it, asking me if I would have really gone through with the wedding. I hadn't really thought about it until he asked - didn't really have the time. But as soon as he asked me I knew I would have said, "I do." And I would have stuck to it, taken it seriously.
Understandably, he thought it was a little weird that I would marry a guy I'd known less than a month. The more I thought about it, the more it made sense. I'd known him less than a month but almost just as long I'd been sharing a room with him, and just as long he'd kept his hands to himself. I've seen him fight, and damn he can fight. Keeps his head when things get heavy, and makes a living helping people. I could do a fuck of a lot worse marrying some guy I just met in a skeezy diner in Vegas.
And the flirting... well, he started that, too. He'd been hitting on me almost since he saw me. Some of it was tacky, some of it was annoying, but some of it was sweet. The way his eyes got wide when Canopus tried to coil around me, that was kind of a clue. He said he started off hitting on me just to tease, but that there was some truth in it. He said maybe it'd be fun to see what happens, but just getting married right off the bat wouldn't have felt right. That he probably would have gone through with it too, but that he also probably would have regretted skipping the steps in between.
So here we are, taking the steps in between.
I do feel like maybe we might have something good here, like he could really make me happy. I get all stupid and grinning when he's around. I thrive when I'm taking care of people and honestly, he needs plenty of taking care of. I think he's got a lot of big fights ahead of him, and I don't really like the idea of him going it alone.
He's probably right though, about it not really being a normal thing to start a relationship with a wedding. Things aren't really supposed to work that way these days.
Maybe I was so willing to rush into a wedding because I'm afraid that my dad's track history with Scions is going to catch up with me. Especially when I let my temper get the best of me and go killing other Scions. But he said something along the lines of whatever wanting to get to me is going to have to go through him.
Before the car ride got too intense, I had to make the disclaimer. I'm damaged goods, and Gunnar needs to know that. I told him I don't want this to not work because I wasn't honest or something with him. So I told him everything. My dead mom, my scars from Kabul (physical and mental) and consequential lack of anything resembling a social life (was a little too shy to mention the lack of a sex life, though), losing my friend Hal and how terrified I am that I'm going to get another group of comrades killed.
It was still hard to talk about, but this time it was more like poking at a scar then pulling at an open wound. This is his chance to run screaming for the hills. I told him that if he's going to hop on this crazy train, these are all things he needs to know.

Still, Laurel Angela Esparza... Might sound kinda nice, one day.

Miss Murder

So my stay in Vegas has gone a little like this: I almost got married. Then I almost got crushed by roller-snake. Almost got stripped of my birthrights, then I got arrested, almost lost my car to a gaping chasm, almost got charged with murder, and almost completely destroyed a friendship.
Almost.
I suppose the highlights aren't much good without the details, even if I'm just talking to myself.
I almost married Gunnar. We were doing recon and when the receptionist asked who was the lucky guy, both Nate and Gunnar volunteered. I picked Gunnar, and at first I wasn't completely sure why. It makes sense now, for a lot of reasons, half of them I don't know yet. The other half are reasons I'm not sure I want to explore in full right now. Though after last night, I'm dead certain Nate and I would never work. Ever. I still have a lot of respect for him, but something changed.
But, it seems weird to say this, almost getting married was only the smallest part of yesterday's excitement.

I took out another Scion last night. Shot her in the head. Screamed when I did it. Probably looked like a crazy woman. Maybe I always have.
In my head, in that moment, everything was clear. She was the enemy, and she had all but walked in with a big red bullseye on her forehead.

I'm getting ahead of myself again.

After I almost got married, and the fight with the roller-snake was over, we all met back up at Gunnar's room where I've been staying pretty much since I met him (it only sounds weird if you think about it. He offered and I accepted without really thinking about it). I patched the guys up, those who needed it, and we just kinda sat around for a bit. Nate came in, grumbling something about how we should have moved the roller-snake. Then Victor came in with uzis pointed at us, that greasy snake Sly, the asian guy I saw at the demolition and the voodoo woman who hurt Nate that same night followed.

I don't remember exactly how things happened from there. The asian guy was named Kane. Gunnar knew about him. Fucker started making demands, telling us to put our birthrights in a godsdamned pillowcase. He walks in and demands our surrender. I think I got a little angry; I started acting without really thinking. I remember Gunnar telling me to get off the bed. Then there was a gunshot. Kane had ordered a hostage shot, thinking that would stop us. We were going to fight anyway (even though Nate looked like he really didn't want to), and then the voodoo lady... did something. She moved something on a doll she carried, and then Nate was holding his gun to his head.

Bitch painted a bullseye on her face, is what she really did.

Gunnar gave the cape over to Kane. I don't really know what happened then. I got thrown back on the bed. Kane went crazy...er. He started growing taller, shrieking and ignoring the rest of us. I know the limits of my abilities. I am no good against guys like Kane, even when they're not trying to go all Kronos on their parents. I turned my sights on his peons.

And that's what they were to me. In a battle, which they decided this was when they asked for our surrender, you pick sides. Victor, Sly and the voodoo girl picked Kane's side. I wanted to scream at Sly when he tried telling me he didn't mean for it to go this far. How far did he mean for it to go? Just far enough so that he could betray Kane and wear the shroud himself? Even if he had the best of intentions, how else did he expect things to go? I made my way over to the voodoo girl, crouching over her until she came to. I might have taunted her a little bit into waking up. I pointed Sibyl at her forehead and kept my eyes open. I waited.
When her eyes opened and met mine, she stiffened a little. I waited until she was fully aware and pulled the trigger. I remember her skull disintegrating under Sibyl's blast. I remember Nate, furious with me. He didn't understand that she would have just done it again, and maybe next time pulled the trigger. He didn't understand that her entire attitude was an affront to the very tenet which I hold most dear: first do no harm.
With Jack having taken care of Victor and vikings beginning to take care of Kane (I don't know, I was busy), Nate decided to arrest me. The ground started caving in where... something had punched through. I'm guessing someone was taking care of the hostages, because Nate escorted me to his SUV. I said something about my car and Nate said he was willing to let it fall into the pit. It would have, if Gunnar hadn't managed to grab the keys before the whole building started coming down.
Since Kane and company walked through that door, it kept feeling like he was trying to take from me everything I cared about. My birthrights. My friends. And now my car. Hal's car. I owe Gunnar for saving it for me.
So I was handcuffed. I had a feeling that if I really wanted to, I could have slipped the cuffs whenever I pleased. I shouldn't have been cuffed in the first fucking place, especially not by the guy I was trying to protect, but ... I wanted to make it right with Nate. I saw the look on his face when he decided to cuff me. He didn't like it, but he had to. I respect that, honestly. It still pisses me off.
Eventually he uncuffed me, after we butted heads for a while about whether or not I should have been cuffed in the first place. Brendan was on my side, Gunnar too. Nevermore was curiously silent. I think I confused him. Nate wanted me to promise I wouldn't shoot any more "defenseless" people before he uncuffed me and gave me back my gun. I couldn't and I won't make a promise I don't think I can keep. Even if I could have, I wouldn't. I was only in the army a year but that shit gets drilled into your head. She was the enemy. She made it clear she was willing to fight dirty, so I did too. The difference was, I was better at it.

from the mouths of ravens

bitches be crazy
n.

Might As Well Jump?

January 23rd, 2011
I'm not letting them go anywhere alone anymore. Not unless we've got some sort of communication system in place, anyway.
Last night, Nate and Gunnar went to a hotel that was scheduled to be demolished. I was going to be the distraction so that they could get past the security. What was the worst that could happen, right?
Well, apparently the worst was some shinobi showing off and expediting the already short countdown to demolition, causing Nate and Gunnar to jump out of an exploding building. They're lucky they didn't break anything.
So I put on my "distracting" shoes and dropped them off. And then I waited. And waited.
And the building exploded. The demolition that was supposed to happen months from now happened last night, with Nate and Gunnar inside. I literally can't leave them alone for ten minutes.
Even when I stick with them I often end up having to take at least one, if not both of them, to the hospital. I worry that if we part ways for too long, I might have to bury one of them.
I don't like that idea.

My Hit and Run

January 22nd, 2011
I have a brother.
Well, half-brother. And he's old enough to be my father.
And I feel really stupid for not realizing who he was.

You know what, let me start over.
The guys went to see their fathers, and I went to hang out with mine. Dad was the one who told me I had siblings. Two of them, actually. One is a younger sister, and the other is an older brother (making me the monkey in the middle).
Neither wants anything to do with Dad and his war. I can't blame them, currently. I might have thought twice if I'd really known what I was getting into, and that it was going to involve being shot and slashed at so damn much.
Also, fuck ninjas.

Dad gave me a hotel name and a room number. Didn't give me my brother's name, which I realize now in hindsight that I really should have asked.
There are a lot of things I really should have asked.
I'm no good at this investigation crap, which makes it a really good thing that I've become friends with a cop and a P.I.
At least, I think we're friends.
Gunnar's always hitting on me, and lets me crash at his place, and Nate has yet to try to arrest me (or Nevermore, who probably deserves it).

I got dressed at Gunnar's room, where I've been crashing since we met. I was dressed if not to kill, then definitely to distract. It was a red number, tight in all the right places with a low neck and a high slit on the side. I figured this was a great plan for getting past security.
It would have been a great plan. Except that I didn't figure that his security would be titan-fucking-spawn. I couldn't tell what they were, and I really only saw the one guarding the elevator exit the first time I tried to get up to talk to my brother.
I thought my heart was going to say, "Yeah, you have fun with that," walk out of my chest and leave me to handle this on my own. Then the guard just told me to turn around. So I did, because I'm smart like that.
No, I'm not. I turned around because I didn't really have any other options. And he pushed me into the elevator.

So I came back later, with Gunnar and Nate. I'm not sure where we stand with one another, but I am sure that they are already the best backup a girl could have.
We decided they would wait in the elevator and I would try again to get past the guard. If something went wrong I'd call the safety word or something. It would have been a great plan if we'd actually picked a safety word.

Then Gunnar mentioned that these guys were cyclopes. Two of them. And, having taken all those courses on Greek Myth after my dad popped up off my autopsy table, I remembered that they eat people and are generally unpleasant to be around.

I was filled with confidence here.
I stepped off the elevator, determined to talk to my brother. Or at least determined to live through this.
I tried deception, I tried diversion then finally I broke down and tried honesty.
I just wanted to talk to him. He was the only family I knew of (and my dad doesn't really count; he's in a league so different talking to him feels like trying to chat up a time traveler from 82 BCE).
They were reluctant to let me in because he might have been sleeping. I pushed, like I do because sometimes (and by sometimes I mean most of the time) I'm too stubborn to know better. Then one of them started groping me.
I freaked. Since Kabul, I don't do well with people trying to touch me.
I really don't do well with a stereotypically violent creature's hand on my breasts.
I just shouted Gunnar's name, because we didn't have a safety word. He and Nate sprang into the hallway, action-cop style and I... I almost caused a diplomatic incident.

It turns out Jim-Bob the cyclops was just trying to pat me down. Of course, I learned this after Gunnar put a bullet hole in the hallway.
It could have been worse, and I'm really surprised this didn't send the titanspawn into a rage. I decided just to come back in the morning, at Nate and Gunnar's urging. I never claimed to be the brains of the operation.
I'm just glad Nevermore wasn't there for that, I would never ever hear the end of it. I can't remember if I apologized to the cyclopes.

I should have. I blushed a little as I passed the hole Gunnar had left in the wall with his fancy Deagle when I came back in the morning.
I got into my brother's room with little incident this time. I'd actually taken Nevermore with me, because (and this is how I know the gods have a sense of humor) his memory is better than mine.
It was tense in there. I was on edge, and my brother was too. I told him I'd wanted to meet him as soon as I found out I had family. I left out the part where Dad sent me to talk to him, but I didn't lie to him at all.
I kept saying we had the same father, and he finally asked me point blank. No more subterfuge. "My father is Apollo." It still sounds a little ridiculous when I say it. His name was Don. He was older than myself, but easy enough to get along with. It took a while, a lot longer than it should have, to put it together.
My half brother is Don Henley.
Yeah, that one. He gave me a cord Dad had given him, catgut from when it was really made with catgut, taken from the Nemean Fucking Lion.
Yeah.
We talked for a while, about a lot of different shit. We exchanged numbers, because I wasn't lying when I told him I was lonely. It's hard being like we are, scions, I mean. Things tend to just change around us, and it's especially hard facing the fact that we were enlisted from conception... No, that's not accurate. We were actually conceived for the purpose of fighting someone else's war. That's what we were meant for, and trying to buck the trend or go against the grain can be disastrous.
And I'm speaking from experience there. I myself strayed from "the path" and I got people killed. That's what Scions do, and that's what Don wants no part in. Normal mortals rarely understand how this can weigh on a person's - a Scion's - shoulders. More than that, just acknowledging that one's parent was more than a normal mortal is enough to break you. If I walked into a police station and said, "Hello, I am a daughter of Apollo and I would like to help you fight crime," they would lock me up.
I'm really lucky now to have Nate and Gunnar to talk to. It hadn't occurred to me just how lucky until I met Don.
He's got a family, a normal family, and because of that... because of the presence of normal, jealous and ignorant mortals I can't really have any communication with my brother.
But I don't have to hide anything from Nate and Gunnar. Yeah, sometimes Nate has to look the other way when my methods become less than legal but that would happen if we were hanging out as normal people.
That's different, though. I don't have to worry with the guys, like I do when I'm in surgery. There's always that fear that I'll press the scalpel, squeeze a patient's hand too hard. I have to put makeup on to become -less- attractive because I've distracted interns and almost lost a patient because of it. I've had to wear contacts to "normalize" my irises because apparently they freak people out.
But with Nate and Gunnar I can be... I -am- completely myself. They're tougher than mortal men. I wonder if they know how cool I think that is.

As soon as I said that to Don, that I just wanted to know someone else like me, that it's tough being like us and it's lonely, he got it.
I have family. That's kinda weird.
Just before I left, he told me about the inspiration for that song, "Hotel California." It's a real place. I don't think I ever want to see it, but somehow I know I'll probably have to, eventually.

The Kids Are Alright

January 20th, 2011
I officially met the two other kids like me on guard duty. Well, kinda like me. Maybe a little less damaged and better adjusted.
Deputy Pritchert is... well, he's kind of a dork. But he is good at his job, and he's a respectable and tough dork. He's passionate about his work and helping people, which I admire. He's also been willing to look the other way when we three have had to do any breaking and entering, which I can also admire.
Gunnar is... impressive is a good word for him. The man can drink, he can fight, has an axe the size of me, and I get the impression he's very strong. Like there's a whole lot of muscle under that trench.
The fact that he hefts a footlocker like I hold a purse lends itself well to this theory. He gives me looks, but most guys (and some girls) do, and he's not grabby. Plus he's let me crash at his room, which has been convenient.
They make me feel safer than I did wandering the Strip by myself and knowing what's actually going on in this town with all the gods, that's for sure.

Welcome to Fabulous...

January 19th, 2011
I've never been to Vegas before. It's otherworldly. Palm trees and desert and the most beautiful sunrises. Now I see what the Killers are always singing about.
I took my time doing so, but I finally got into town and was told to go wait at some diner. Larry's, I think? I took Nevermore in with me because he seems to have abandonment issues and won't let me leave him outside. Thankfully no one seemed to think it was too weird. I sat at the counter, ordered onion rings. There wasn't too much going on when I got there. Truckers and transvestites, and a huge guy who was cool enough to wear his sunglasses at night.
Some old guy walked in, called me and two other people to him in a booth. He talked like a good ol' boy. Handed me and the other kids metal pins. Mine was shaped like the sun. I tried not to be too obvious in sizing the other guys up, but I wanted to know how likely they were to get me killed. They both seem intelligent and on the level, though. We're supposed to go to a hotel and play watchdogs.

On the way out, I stopped and took a good look at my waitress, Fern. She seemed too tired, even for this job. Something about the smell of her, the flecks in her eyes, the sound of her breath told me she was quite ill. Spots in the air around her, growing bigger than they should.
Cancer, probably. That seems to be my own personal Lupus.
She didn't believe me, at first. Sometimes they don't.

Wave Goodbye

"Words get tangled on you tongue, and you stumble on your feet
When you miss somebody.
And everywhere you think you see them walking down the street
When you miss somebody.

When you miss somebody, you tell yourself a hundred thousand times,
"Nobody ever lives forever," so you give it one more try:
To wave goodbye
Wave goodbye

Yeah, when you miss somebody you tell yourself that everything will be alright.
You try to stand up strong and brave, but all you wanna do
Is lay down and die."
Chris Cornell, Wave Goodbye

This is the first year since she died that I've missed going to visit my mom's grave.
It feels weird.

Take Up Thy Stethescope and Walk

It's been a long time since I picked this thing up. I guess with Nevermore around I haven't felt the need so much to talk to myself.
Let's see, what's new... I finished Med School and my residency. I managed to pay off the remainder of my college debt early last year. Hal's money and my mom's money were put into high-yield savings accounts. Of all people, it was Nevermore who suggested that. Not really a people but I guess when some...thing... sticks around long enough it's kind of a habit to think of him as more than just an animal.
So, yeah. I've been getting investment tips from a bird. He's a mouthy son of a bitch, but he's my mouthy son of a bitch. In the past few years he's run off exactly two study buddies and five blind dates and I've given up on having a social life.
It turns out that was for the best, because I got a message from my dad telling me to get my ass to Vegas pronto. It's nice not having to explain shit when I need to disappear. So tonight I'm covering all of the furniture and putting a hold on my mail. I told work I need to go on a sabbatical, which wasn't news to them. They've been trying to get me to take a vacation for two years. Alan, my department supervisor, is afraid I'll burn out and they'll lose me.

Oh, semi-interesting developments. I eat and sleep way less than I used to, even when I first started med school. I got a lot stronger, and I kept up at target practice with Sibyl. I can't take her to a normal shooting range, but at least there are some quiet woods up in the hills.
Nevermore, who still won't tell me what his name is, actually lets me go into work alone now. Has for about a year. He does tend to follow me, but at least he waits outside the building.
I've been studying Greek, too. Figured I should know the language of my family. That stuff, knowing who my dad really is, hasn't gotten any less weird.

I Hate Snakes.

Spent some time with Dad today. He brought me sunflowers for my birthday, which was last week but no less sweet.
He also brought me a new copy of "Raiders of the Lost Ark," since my last copy met an... unfortunate end when Nevermore tried to watch it but couldn't get a grip and ended up breaking it. Then he chewed on it. On accident he said.
I don't know.

We watched it together, the new copy. Dad and I, I mean. Nevermore mostly peered down over the T.V. and got in the way. He acts weird when Dad's around. Doesn't talk as much, and more of the words he does say are actual conversation rather than vulgarities.
The part where Indy gets into the Well of Souls, with all the snakes, I actually saw Dad make a face.
"Snakes. Why did it have to be snakes?"
I said something, and he told me the story of his fight against Python. The first real fight he ever had. Serpent hatred runs in the family.

O Tannenbaum

Saw Dad again. He helped me pick out, put up and decorate a Christmas tree with all of Mom's ornaments. Showed up in the front seat of my Impala as I was getting ready to head out.
I guess he bought several of those ornaments for her when they visited Morocco and Italy. They were together a year or so before Mom got pregnant with me and Dad had to go back to the Overworld.
Mom never talked about all of the places they visited, I guess it made her too sad.

Anyway, it was nice, having the company for a couple of hours. And it's not like Nevermore could have helped with the tree.

Take the Money and Run

May 15th, 2009
Happy Birthday, Laurel. Still no real change from the Universe. Work has been granting me a fantastic outlet for all of this energy I've had lately.

Well... that first wasn't entirely true. Nevermore, my fine feathered friend, has learned to use EBay. At first it was funny, he bought little stuff like a rubber snake for my birthday.
Then he bought himself a TV, a DVD player, and copies of Raging Bull, Scarface, Taxi, Goodfellas and the Godfather (parts 1-3).
Now he thinks he's Joe Pesci, except when he thinks he's Tony Montoya.

You know... I have no idea where he got the funds.
I should check my bank account.

Making the Oath

"I swear by Apollo the Physician and Asclepius and Hygieia and Panaceia and all the gods, and goddesses, making them my witnesses, that I will fulfill according to my ability and judgment this oath and this covenant:

I will respect the hard-won scientific gains of those physicians in whose steps I walk, and gladly share such knowledge as is mine with those who are to follow.

I will apply, for the benefit of the sick, all measures that are required, avoiding those twin traps of overtreatment and therapeutic nihilism.

I will remember that there is art to medicine as well as science, and that warmth, sympathy, and understanding may outweigh the surgeon's knife or the chemist's drug.

I will not be ashamed to say "I know not," nor will I fail to call in my colleagues when the skills of another are needed for a patient's recovery.

I will respect the privacy of my patients, for their problems are not disclosed to me that the world may know. Most especially must I tread with care in matters of life and death. If it is given to me to save a life, all thanks. But it may also be within my power to take a life; this awesome responsibility must be faced with great humbleness and awareness of my own frailty. Above all, I must not play at God.

I will remember that I do not treat a fever chart, a cancerous growth, but a sick human being, whose illness may affect the person's family and economic stability. My responsibility includes these related problems, if I am to care adequately for the sick.

I will prevent disease whenever I can, for prevention is preferable to cure.

I will remember that I remain a member of society, with special obligations to all my fellow human beings, those sound of mind and body as well as the infirm.

If I do not violate this oath, may I enjoy life and art, respected while I live and remembered with affection thereafter. May I always act so as to preserve the finest traditions of my calling and may I long experience the joy of healing those who seek my help."

So. I've made my promise. Do no harm.

Let it be.

February 2nd, 2006
I'm starting to get used to not having Hal around anymore. I'm all settled in to his... well, my house, now. The decor is a little weird. Hal was a herpetologist before he got sick, so there are snakes everywhere. I can't bring myself to redecorate yet, though. Staring at his research, his pictures, sitting in his car (and oh my god, it's a beautiful car), it feels like I'm still able to talk to him sometimes.
I feel a bit at a loss for what I'm supposed to do now. Keep calm and carry on? I've got this big lump in my throat and I worry that I'm going to take it out on my patients. I know that not everyone is going to live, that's just how life is. But now it's like I'm afraid to get too close to any of them, because when they go it will be just like getting the wind knocked out of me again.
I can't help it, though. I like helping people too much, even if that means just easing the pain until they move on to the next... thing.
The bird, in all his infinite wisdom, is telling me to take this time to sort out my own head. "First and fucking foremost," he said in his most eloquent way, "stop bringing idiots home." In short, he has promised that until I bring someone home with "a real fucking brain," that I will never have a social life. He has yet to clarify what constitutes a real brain. But maybe he - whom I've taken to calling Nevermore - has a point. I've got some things to work out before anyone else hops on this crazy train.
Mom would know what to do.

Merry Christmas

December 25th, 2005
Apollo was right.
It has been hard not to kill the bird.

But he brought me... something for Christmas. I think it used to be a mouse.
He's always trying to follow me to work, which gets a little awkward.

Oh, speaking of work. I lost the internship and I'm back to working at Alta Bates. I was going to tell the academic supervisor that I quit, but she beat me to the punch saying it was terribly irresponsible of me not even to bother showing up.