tampered | (no subject)

When; Thursday, June 7th (much earlier in the day than 11 PM)
Rating; PG... ish? I'm guessing?
Characters; James Wilson [

dr_conscience], Olivia Dunham [

entangles], Eames [

signatures]
Summary; Ever wonder what Eames' brain looks like? Well, Olivia has, and she intends to find out. Enter, a doctor.
Log;

After a day of treating fractures, sprains, and the other assorted results of a city full of untrained and, for a certain percentage, unfit citizens attempting to execute urban acrobatics, Wilson certainly welcomes the break in the monotony that today's scheduled test is certain to provide. Of course, he'd already been looking forward to it - he's curious, though he's being careful to stop short of actually letting himself hope that they'll find anything conclusive.

In nearly three years - or well over three, if he counts his initial stay - of time in the City, of course he's seen a number of neural CT scans performed without finding anything particularly unusual. He'll allow that none that he can recall were performed with this sort of purpose in mind, nor is he certain whether any of the patients whose scans he'd seen had left and returned, as Eames has. But he's been here too long, and been through far too much that's defied explanation thus far, to actually hope for answers to start presenting themselves.

But, there's no harm in performing a routine, noninvasive diagnostic test, and if they were to learn anything, it would certainly be for everyone's benefit. If they don't, then they won't have lost anything. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, after all - there's usually a reason cliches become such.

So, as his reserved time with the scanner nears, he files away the paperwork he's working on and heads to meet Olivia and Eames. He tries to stifle any excitement; it's just a CT scan, James, and you are not getting your hopes up. There is really no reason to feel like an investigative badass.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Free healthcare? They're remarkably considerate for kidnappers," she says with a short laugh, so short that you'd wonder if Olivia had actually made a joke at all. To her, this experiment is a matter of business, hence her forcefulness. Her impatience, however, is a constant personality trait, regarldess of the situation." Turning back to Eames, she addresses him again. "From what I can tell, there will hardly be any poking, Eames. You're going for scans, not a vivisection."

She says it as if she were the doctor. Really, Olivia. Hopefully Doctor Jimmy won't take annoyance to how you're asserting yourself.

"I assume you've told no one else about this," she inquires, a hard edge to her voice

Saviors, for some, Eames notes mildly to himself. It's easy enough to recall the visions of worlds destroyed and the tantalizing idea of safety, that things here could be much worse. Ultimately, still, it's not the place Eames wants to stay - at least, not for very long stretches of time, as is his current record. He's rather surprised at being covered, too, but takes it in stride well enough - distracted by Olivia's tone and tossing her a look.

"If you wanted to keep it a secret, you wouldn't look so ready to take either of us down a notch in a public space." Not that Eames has - he will later, though. He goes on to let his hand fall on Jimmy's shoulderblade, though, tapping in mild comraderie. "Lead on, then, Doctor Jim, I've still got plans for lunch."

For his part, Wilson would be closer to characterizing the City Olivia's way than Eames'; his own experiences have left him feeling a bit less magnanimous about the deities, and whatever other entities they may or may not answer to. However, he's certainly more open to alternative theories than most, and after being here so long, he's found enough of a bright side to hang onto - even if he doesn't trust much as far as the City itself is concerned. (If only he knew what awaited him back home, he might be happier here.)

He's hardly surprised at Olivia's assertiveness, of course. From even their first, most basic interactions, it was an immediately apparent trait.

"Well, I was going to issue a staffwide bulletin, but thought the better of it." It's sass, sure, but it's not the biting variety, and he does offer a small smile and add in a far more earnest tone, "No. I haven't told anyone."

Though any interesting results may, of course, warrant sharing. He can think of at least one person who'd be interested in any puzzle that might present itself. At the tap, he does glance to Eames with one slightly quirked brow, that slight smile still in place, and gives a slight incline of his head to indicate the direction in which he steps a moment later.

"We do have a reservation to keep. The automated staff hate it when schedules get thrown off."

And so the good doctor Jimmy ushers the Forger and the Agent in the direction of the exam room, and Olivia spends the walk in preoccupied silence as her mind runs a mile a minute. No more cute remarks to Mr. Eames, for now. If they found an implant, or an alteration to the mind, it would imply that none of this was magic, and that all the ludicrous phenomena that occurred in these past months could be explained, even if the explication would likely fly over Olivia's head. But that disparaging seed of doubt, growing ever-larger day by day in this fantastical city, tells her slyly that there's no way that this City can be wrapped up and packaged in logic. Perhaps even the prodigious Walter Bishop wouldn't be able to figure it out.

When the trio reach their destination, Wilson and Olivia splinter off to head into the CT room, though not before Eames is directed to an exam room where he can be afforded at least a measure of modesty to change before the scan. Though surely, exposing your skin is less invasive than sharing the landscape of your brain with strangers. Olivia should be thanking Eames.

She ought to be, but Eames doesn't expect one. He shimmies out of his clothes in favour of the gown, though does keep on his shorts underneath to spare Olivia the view. Other clothes folded and left on the examination table, it's only a short walk into the room with the large machine. He's not particularly nervous, per say - there are little secrets a machine of this nature can suss out, and even if his entire history were somehow lain out on the floor, he's hardly intimidated by Olivia nor Jimmy for the sake of uncertainty, though he still wouldn't like it much. It's the matter of things, that secrets are as such for particular reasons, and Eames has never been open with them.

He slips up onto the table, fingers curled loosely around the edge of it as he looks over to Olivia, then Wilson. "What are we going to be looking for, exactly? Holes? A chip?"

It's a good question, of course. For his part, Wilson's fairly certain that his involvement in this whole thing comes down to his mutual acquaintanceship and his medical degree. He's all right with it, but he knows it's Olivia who's really orchestrating the whole thing. Nonetheless, if he's asked to take up a professional task, he doesn't do so halfheartedly, so he does have an answer he's thought through.

"Well... anything that's out of the ordinary, physiologically. Signs of any kind of procedure, be it something as apparent as an actual implant like a chip or a more subtle physical abnormality, be it in the matter of the brain itself, any of the bones of the skull, or the meninges, that may be indicative of a healed incision. Your neural activity will also be monitored for anything unusual - so when I start asking about your recollections of the City and of your world, that's why. While the focus will be primarily on the hippocampus and cerebral cortex, the parts of your brain primarily associated with memory, I think it's wise to do a thorough examination of all areas."

And the doctor speech aside, he turns to Olivia, "And, of course, if there's anything else more specific you had in mind?" Hey, he can recognize when someone might have more experience with alternate dimensions than he does.