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sam_storyteller) wrote2005-07-14 12:49 am
sam_storyteller) wrote2005-07-14 12:49 am
Entry tags:
The Hiatus Continuations, Chapter Nineteen
Title: The Hiatus Continuations, Chapter Nineteen: News of the World
Rating: PG-13 for language and violence
Summary: Hiro is depressed, Ando is worried, Claire is found, Claude is angry, Angela Petrelli is unsuccessfully seduced, and Isaac is told the truth about the bomb blast.
Notes: "The Red Queen", by Matt Ridley, is a book about theoretical biology and the advantages of individual sexual versus asexual reproduction in the "evoutionary arms race". So...it is about sex...kind of. :D
Originally posted 4.18.07
HIRO, ANDO, AND NATHAN - PETRELLICAMPAIGN HEADQUARTERS CONGRESSIONAL RAMP-UP OFFICE
Ando wasn't sure what to do.
Hiro was clearly depressed, not that he blamed him. Once you've saved New York from an atomic blast and helped a flying man get elected to public office, it's hard to keep the excitement going. Ando felt that he could use less excitement in his life, actually, but then he wasn't Hiro. He'd been perfectly happy working in a cubicle -- he couldn't go back to that now, of course, not after what he'd seen, but it hadn't been a bad life.
Hiro hadn't liked the work and had always wanted something more. He'd had it, for a while. The quest. The sword. The bomb. And now what?
They showed up to the office that morning because Ando didn't want Hiro moping in the hotel room but he didn't know what else to do. Everyone seemed to have a purpose, everyone was doing something. They'd seen Nathan and Peter too, Peter with his bizarre scar and total unself-consciousness about it. But Nathan and Peter clearly needed some time to talk, and so he and Hiro ended up helping someone fix a photocopier.
Ando could get to like New York. He didn't really have any family back home in Japan, and he felt marginally useful here, at least. Maybe Nathan would hire him as a translator. Not without Hiro, of course.
"When you are in the future," he said to Hiro, sitting at the conference table and still moping, "you should remember this and come back and say something to yourself. Something exciting."
"Doesn't work that way," Hiro replied morosely.
"We could go raid the comic book stores."
"You can if you want."
"Someone must need saving somewhere," Ando said desperately. Hiro shrugged. He was close to suggesting they try to talk to Mr. Isaac again, but they hadn't exactly had a good reception last time.
Over Hiro's shoulder, he saw Nathan lean out of his office and tilt his head. Ando blinked. Nathan gestured for him to come over, then put a finger to his lips.
"Well, stay here and I'll see if I can find something interesting to do," he said casually. Hiro nodded.
"Hey," Nathan said, when Ando was in his office and the door was closed. "What's up with Hiro? Shouldn't you two be out celebrating?"
"He is unhappy," Ando replied.
"Yeah, I see that. You know why?"
"Yes. His quest is over. He feels useless."
"He helped save New York!"
Ando shrugged. "He says, what now?"
Nathan blinked at him. "What now? There's a whole world out there. Places to see, time to stop, people to save or whatever."
"But no quest."
Nathan peered out the blinds at Hiro, slumped unhappily in his chair.
"I do not know what to do," Ando told him. "Without purpose, Hiro is miserable."
"Aren't we all," Nathan murmured.
***
CLAIRE, BENNET, PARKMAN, AND CLAUDE - THE WAREHOUSE
Bennet had spent the day, and most of the evening before, starting to arrange the new company. If he thought about Claire he felt sick and angry; Claire in the hands of Baker, possibly in the hands of Nakamura. She hadn't looked like she was a prisoner, but the fear was still there. And even if she wasn't, how could that kid possibly keep her safe?
Parkman kept telling him to eat the damn hamburger he'd brought back, but Bennet wasn't hungry. He was sketching out a business model for the company. Before he'd been recruited, he had actually been pretty good at this stuff. He knew how to manage people and goods. And if he was managing he wasn't thinking so much.
He looked up when he heard footsteps, expecting that it would be Isaac, prowling around as he usually did. His first order of business was going to be to detox Isaac again, forcibly if necessary. If he kept on going the way he had, he'd be dead inside of a month.
Instead, it was a slight, slim figure, half in shadow. He took the safety off the gun sitting on the table, but didn't pick it up. It might be anyone. A squatter, a junkie, even a spy or an emissary from Linderman --
Then she stepped into the light, a pool of fluorescent light that turned her blonde hair deep orange-gold.
"Claire," he breathed.
"Daddy?" she asked.
He didn't remember even moving, but suddenly he was standing in the light, holding her, her face pressed against his shirt. She was safe, she was real, she was touchable, holding him so tight it hurt and -- no, that was him trembling, not her.
The world narrowed down to a single sensation -- his child in his arms.
"It's okay," he heard himself say. "Dad's here now."
"Bennet," Parkman said warily, from some distance off.
"Matt, I want you to meet my -- " he swung around, beaming, wanting to introduce his daughter, to show someone else that she was really there. Instead he came face to face with the business end of his own pistol.
Standing in front of him was a man out of his nightmares.
"Give me a reason," Claude Rains said.
***
THE HAITIAN, AMY MARTIN, AND ANGELA PETRELLI - NYC
"As abilities go, that is something of a limited asset, my dear," Mrs. Petrelli said. Amy glanced at her newfound friend, who apparently didn't have a name, and then back at the dark, severe-looking woman in front of her.
"Well, it's...fun," she said. "And it makes people laugh."
She hadn't really asked to be picked up at the airport in a big black sedan and driven to some random mansion in the middle of nowhere, but it had all sort of...happened. And she didn't have classes the next day, so it wasn't like she had anywhere to be. But Mrs. Petrelli was a little judgemental, and reminded Amy uncomfortably of her mother.
"When did you find you had this particular talent?" Mrs. Petrelli asked.
"High school, I think," Amy said. It was hard to remember, to be honest. "I started doing fortunetelling because my friends thought it was fun, and that turned into card tricks, but I didn't really have to do anything special. You know that trick where you ask someone to pick a card, any card?"
"I'm familiar with it."
"Well, I just know what the card is. And then it turned out I could pull things out of peoples' ears."
"I don't suppose you've tried sawing someone in half."
"No," Amy admitted. "But if I have an audience I can levitate them."
Mrs. Petrelli looked pensively at her, then walked to a desk nearby and wrote something on a piece of paper. She folded it, placed it in an envelope, and handed it to Amy.
"There's a question in the envelope," she said. "Can the...I'm sorry, what did you say your stage name was?"
"The Mysterious Morgana."
Mrs. Petrelli sighed. Well, not everyone was cut out for show business.
"Can the Mysterious Morgana answer the question?" she asked. Amy pressed the envelope to her forehead and closed her eyes.
"A warehouse at Watts and Washington," she said. It only worked if you fluttered your eyelids a little, even though she felt like an idiot doing it.
Mrs. Petrelli raised her eyebrows. Amy wondered if she'd done something wrong.
"My friend will take you home," she said. "I think you've just provided me with some excellent information, Amy. I look forward to meeting you again."
In the car, Amy opened the envelope. The question inside read, Where is my granddaughter at this moment?
***
BENNET, CLAUDE, CLAIRE, MATT, AND JACK - THE WAREHOUSE
"Claude," Bennet said, more concerned about Claire than his own chances of surviving this. Forgetting what she was, what she could do, he moved so that he stood in front of her. "You can shoot me but you're not taking her away from me."
"Hey, hey, nobody's gonna shoot anyone, are they?" Matt asked. "There's kids here. Let's all just stop and take a moment."
Bennet looked to his left. There was another figure there -- Jack Baker, standing off to one side with a peculiar, confused look on his face.
"Claude, put the gun down," Claire said, sidestepping away from him.
"Claire, get behind me," Bennet ordered.
"It's okay," she said. "He won't hurt me. He can't, anyway."
"Come on, man," Parkman added. "You really gonna shoot a man in front of his kid?"
"No, just slightly to the left of her," Claude answered.
"You followed us," Baker said.
"Too right I did," Claude answered. "I'm not lettin' him put you both away."
"Claude, I told you, he hid me," Claire said.
"And he told me we were friends," Claude replied. Bennet edged towards the gun, and Claude smiled.
"Stop," he said.
Bennet felt himself freeze without meaning to. He'd -- he'd just been Spoken to.
By Claude.
"Nice trick, eh?" Claude continued. "Now, this can all end pretty and nice and nobody's going to get hurt, but we need to get a few things straight first. So I want you to look me in the eye and tell me the bloody truth, Bennet."
"What do you want to know?" Bennet asked, honestly perplexed.
"Why're you here?"
"To find my daughter."
"Why?"
"Because she's my daughter," Bennet said desperately.
"He's a Telepath," Matt said, startled. "I can hear him reading your mind."
Claude narrowed his eyes. "And the Company?"
Bennet darted his eyes desperately to Claire. Don't make me confess in front of my child, Claude.
Slowly, Claude eased the pistol back and flicked the safety on. Matt charged forward, like a moron, and Claude raised his other hand, shoving him back without touching him. He set the pistol on the table.
"Um," Baker said. Everyone looked at him. He glanced around, as if he wasn't expecting all the attention. "So. Uh. Hi, Mr. Bennet. Nice to meet you."
Claude snorted.
"The kid's harmless," he said. "He's not with Yamagoto. Nakamura the younger, maybe."
Bennet blinked. "Nakamura's kid? He's mixed up in this?"
"You're not up on the times," Claude continued.
"Obviously not, and at the moment I could give a damn," Bennet said, turning to Claire. He brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," she said quietly. "Really."
"I see you met Claude."
"He -- " Claire glanced at Claude, who was standing with his arms crossed, waiting patiently. "He's been helping me. And others. Like Jack."
Bennet looked up. "Thank you," he said, to the man who had been about to shoot him. Claude grunted.
"Dad, I missed you -- "
Bennet hugged her again, kissed the top of her head. "I missed you too. I was terrified they'd get to you before I could. I won't send you away again, I promise. I'm done with the Company. For real this time."
"Where are Mom and Lyle?" Claire asked. "Are they okay? Do they miss me?"
Bennet bit down hard on his immediate reaction. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Claude flinch.
"They -- we can talk about them later. Don't worry. What matters is you're safe, okay?"
Claire smiled, and the world felt all right again. She turned and gestured to Baker, who moved as if he were afraid some more invisible people were going to show up and try to shoot him.
"This is Jack," she said. "He helped me find you. He's like me. He -- "
"Finds things," Bennet said. "I'm aware."
"Someone's been doing their homework," Claude muttered.
"He came all the way from California to find me," Claire said.
"Why?" Bennet asked. If Baker wasn't working for Yamagoto, why was he so desperate to find Claire?
"Nobody knows. Not even Jack," she said, and giggled a little, a laugh on the verge of hysteria. "It's been kind of crazy."
"Tell me about it," Bennet agreed. "Where are you staying? With him?"
"Not...really," she said. "I -- it's a long story. And we kinda don't have a whole lot of time right now. I keep getting busted for sneaking out."
He raised an eyebrow. "That doesn't sound like you at all."
She smiled. "Listen, I'm staying somewhere safe. But I gotta get back. I'll come back tomorrow, okay?"
"Claire -- "
"It's all right, Dad." She kissed his cheek. The look in her eyes was too grown-up for any sixteen-year-old, but it was the same thing he saw in the eyes of others -- Matt, Claude, the kid Jack. Some knowledge that he didn't have. Wouldn't ever have.
She was safe. She was protected. That was what mattered.
He squeezed her hands. "Okay. Come back tomorrow. I'll be here."
She held out a hand and Baker took it, eyes following her, not even looking at him as they walked out. Bennet followed until they were through the door and down into a subway stop nearby.
"You let her go easy," Claude said, looking over his shoulder.
"She's safe?"
"She's indestructible. How much safer do you want?"
"From the Company."
"Safer than most," Claude said bitterly. Bennet turned, walking back down the hallway, and heard Claude following him. He remembered that sound; ghostly footsteps at his heels, nobody there to make them when he turned.
In the warehouse proper, Matt was still sitting at the table, looking bereft and a little stunned. Bennet didn't blame him, but he didn't have time to answer Matt's questions right now. Instead he turned around, half-expecting Claude would be invisible again.
He looked older than even the paintings Isaac had done. Older, and tired. And not exactly dressed as sharply as he used to be when they were partners.
And with a few new skill sets, too.
"You're an Empath," he said. It wasn't a question.
"Your wife and son are dead," Claude replied.
"You lied to me -- for eight years -- you lied to the Company -- "
"Better than being an experiment," Claude said. "Better than being a Procedure."
"Those people had no options, they were a danger -- "
"They weren't given an option. Not by you."
"I did what had to be done," Bennet said. "And you were right there with me."
"You did what you thought should be done," Claude retorted. "There's a difference."
"I suppose you claim the high moral ground? You did it too -- "
"And I stopped! Did you think I was joking when I said I wouldn't hunt my own people?" Claude shouted. "You didn't care until it was your daughter in the dissection room. Or have you forgotten Timothy?"
"I haven't forgotten any of them," Bennet said through gritted teeth.
"Well, lucky them."
"Do you know why I'm here?" Bennet demanded. "Here, in this freezing warehouse? Do you understand what's going on?"
"Explain it to me then," Claude said, sneering.
"Read my mind," Bennet challenged.
"Don't tempt me."
"Go on. How many times did you do it when we were partners? Here I thought we worked well together, but all along it was just the Empath, pulling the wool over his partner's eyes."
"You think that's all it was? Yes, I just ran round using power, without a care in the world. D'you know what it's like hiding that kind of thing from the Company? Day after day, year after year?"
"Yes," Bennet said. "I do."
"Fine. You want the truth? So do I."
Claude's eyes narrowed to slits and Bennet felt ice run in his veins. This was not Matt's hesitant, workmanlike telepathy; this was someone with experience, with no qualms, digging in his brain for what he might find. Claude was in his head.
At the same time, the link flowed in the opposite direction; thoughts and images passed back to him, Claude's thoughts, Claude's memories. He didn't know what Claude was taking from him, but he knew what he was being shown. Years of cautious hiding, years of restraint, while Claude taught his students and tried to protect the ones he could. And, to Bennet's surprise, not a single contact with his own mind. Not once had Claude invaded his privacy, though he could feel times when he'd wanted to -- times when Claude wanted to feel what it was like to hold your children in your arms or even what it was like to do the job without the slightest hesitation or doubt.
He saw Peter Petrelli, the man who'd saved his daughter, being trained day after day, hours on end, until Claude himself was so tired he let the pup go because he didn't want to show weakness. He saw Claire through Claude's eyes, the first time they'd met in seven years. And he saw, though the other man tried to hide it, Claude's real name. Given to Peter, for a while, but Claude's first.
And then the images stopped, and he staggered back. Claude hadn't moved.
"So that's the game," the invisible man said. "A new Company. Good old Alexander. Bet he's dyin' to get his hands on us."
"It's not going to be that way."
"No, it's going to be out and out warfare, and you want me to help you."
"Isn't it better than hiding?" Bennet asked. And then, daringly, "Simon?"
"You've no right to use that name."
"You certainly haven't made much use of it." Bennet turned to Matt. "You wanted to meet Simon Porter. Here he is. This is Matt Parkman."
"Your new partner," Claude said scornfully to Bennet.
"That's you?" Matt asked. "You're Simon Porter?"
"How the hell does he know that name?" Claude demanded.
"Didn't you see that?" Bennet said, letting just a hint of nastiness creep in. "Isaac painted your name. Now we know why."
"Some of us do," Claude said.
"We need you, Claude," Bennet continued. "Linderman won't fund us without you."
"Alexander Linderman can get fucked," Claude said. "You're a day late and a dollar short. I'm not throwing my lot in with a second Primatech. I'm not doing anyone's dirty work for them."
"I told you -- " Bennet started.
"And I don't believe you! You chose the Company over me. It was a near miss with Claire. You don't give a damn, you're not one of us. And I won't be part of anything with you at the head."
"There's another solution," Matt said quietly. Both of them looked at him.
"Matt, maybe you should leave," Bennet said.
"I know I'm not as smart as you guys," Matt said, not quite keeping the dry, bitter tone out of his voice. "And I know I didn't spend the last twenty years or whatever, working all this out. It just seems to me that if we can't fight the Company without him, and he doesn't want another Primatech, the best thing to do would be to put him in charge. Isn't that what the painting says anyway? Managing Director?"
"Have you lost your mind?" Claude asked. "Has he?" he demanded, turning to Bennet.
"I don't know you," Matt shrugged. "But I know Bennet. I know he trusts you."
"He shot me!"
"All the more reason to keep an eye on him," Matt said. There was a thoughtful silence.
"We need help," Bennet said. "We need leadership. I'm a good field agent, Claude, I'm just as happy doing what I trained for. If that's what it takes to get you on our side -- "
"I'm not on your side. Ever," Claude said. "I'm on their side. Claire's side. Peter's side. Nathan Petrelli's side, and I can't tell you how much that pains me."
"She's my daughter, Claude," Bennet replied. "She's all I have left. I have to protect her. I have to destroy Primatech. And to do that I need you."
"I'm not a businessman," Claude said.
"No," said another voice, and all three men looked up.
Angela Petrelli stood in the doorway, arms crossed, eyeing them coolly. "But I am."
"Well," Claude said, into the deafening silence, "Isn't this a school reunion."
"Hello, Claude," Angela said, walking forward. He held still, watching warily as she kissed him on the cheek. "I knew you looked familiar before. I understand I owe you Peter's life. Twice."
"He's paid me back," Claude answered.
"I'm glad to hear it. Bennet, how are you?"
"Angela," Bennet replied, offering her his hand. She grasped and shook it, touching his wrist with her other hand.
"And this must be Mr. Parkman."
"Ma'am," Matt said, nodding shyly.
"Matt, this is Angela, one of my my old associates. Our old associates," Bennet corrected himself. "Out of the New York office. Now defunct."
"I saw Claire leaving as I arrived; I'm sure her young man will make sure she gets home safely."
"You knew she was here?" Bennet asked. "In New York?"
"Of course I did. Claude, you haven't told him?"
"Told me what?" Bennet demanded.
"Claire is my granddaughter. My eldest son -- Nathan's -- child. I assumed someone would have shared that tidbit with you by now."
Bennet stared openly at her. She smiled at him.
"You didn't think I worked for the Company all those years for my health? Granted, a secretary's not very well-paid, but they do hear things. I had to make sure someone was looking after her."
"Wait -- " Matt shook his head as if he were trying to clear it. "You're...his adopted daughter's...grandmother."
"That's right."
"And you work for the Company."
"Worked," she said. "Just long enough to be sure Claire was safe. After a while, you get to know people, people who think like you do...you find things out. Then you don't need to work there anymore. I kept in touch."
"The Haitian," Bennet said.
"Hmm?" she asked.
"He said he answered to a higher authority than me. He was talking about you."
She nodded.
"And that means Peter Petrelli..."
"Is your daughter's uncle, yes."
Bennet sat heavily, trying to process all the information he'd absorbed in the past half an hour.
"We like to keep things in the family," Angela said. "Claude, Mr. Parkman, could I have a few moments alone with Mr. Bennet?"
***
ANGELA PETRELLI, CLAUDE RAINS, AND MR. BENNET - THE NEW YORK OFFICE
THIRTEEN YEARS AGO
"Hello, Angela."
Angela looked up as the door closed; Mr. Bennet was standing in the reception room, smiling a greeting.
"Mr. Bennet. Nice to see you in New York again," she said.
"Happy to be here."
"How's your daughter?"
One of the sure ways to make Mr. Bennet light up was to ask him about his daughter. "She's fine. Getting bigger all the time. And looking forward to her new brother, any day now."
"Really? That's wonderful news."
"We certainly think so. I'm here to see Mr. Craig?"
"Yes, he's expecting you. Go ahead." She clicked the door-lock button under her desk. Bennet grasped the handle and pulled. "Not you," she added.
"What?" he asked, pausing.
"Mr. Craig was very explicit that only Mr. Bennet attend the meeting."
Claude appeared over Bennet's shoulder, looking annoyed.
"How does she know?" he asked rhetorically. "She always knows."
"I can't give away all my secrets, Claude."
Bennet gave Claude a nice try look and passed into Mr. Craig's office. Claude moved forward, leaning on her desk.
"So what's a pretty woman like you doing in a dump like this?" he asked.
"I'm old enough to be your mother, Claude."
"You aren't. Let me buy you lunch."
She held up her left hand, wiggling her ring finger, making the wedding band catch the light.
"I said lunch, not a hotel room."
"It's all the same to you."
"Don' make me sit in the corner an' read a magazine. He'll be in there for hours."
She looked up at him, smiled, and reached into a drawer, handing him a book. He rolled his eyes.
"Entertain me," he said. She laughed; you couldn't help but laugh at Claude sometimes.
"Fine. Tell me about your exciting life in Odessa," she said, turning to look up at him.
"Well, that'll take all of thirty seconds. Tell me about your exciting life in New York." He picked up a new photo frame on her desk. "These your boys?"
"I had it taken last week, right before my older one shipped out."
"Your younger one doesn't look like he appreciates the tie you put him in."
"He's a terror. Thirteen going on three thousand. Do you have children, Claude?"
"None known. I leave the breedin' to Bennet."
"Good news about his wife."
"Oh aye. Bad news for me though. Paternity leave? Are you kiddin' me? Got to break in a new partner and just when I get 'em how I like 'em I get Bennet back again."
"Do you see his daughter much?"
"Every so often. Sweet little thing. Toddlin' and talkin' now. Calls me Kwad. Right then," he added, tapping the book. "I'll betake me off to improve my mind, shall I? The Red Queen -- what's it about?"
"Sex. You'll like it."
Claude was ten pages in before he looked up over the edge of the book. "You're a cruel woman, Angela."
***
ISAAC MENDEZ AND CLAUDE RAINS - THE WAREHOUSE
All the raised voices in the warehouse woke Isaac, who had set up a cot bed and was sleeping in one of the few rooms in the building that had heating. He missed most of what was being said, but he picked up enough that when the bearded guy left Bennet talking to some old lady, he had kind of figured out what was going on.
"Who's the chick?" he asked the dude, who was studying one of the paintings tacked up on the wall.
"Shove off."
"Fuck you too, man. So, like, are you one of us?" Isaac said, shifting anxiously from foot to foot.
"Did you not hear me? Go away," the man replied, giving him an annoyed look.
"Sorry, it's just, I'm a little strung out, and it looked like you did some mind reading back there."
"Very observant," the man said sarcastically.
"Isaac. Mendez." Isaac held out his hand.
"Claude Rains," Claude said. He didn't shake his hand.
"You're the guy in my paintings!"
"Burn 'em."
"No, I paint the future."
"I know. Saw your mural. Piece of work, that."
"It's gonna happen."
Claude looked up at him narrowly. "Sorry, mate. Been there, done that, prevented the armageddon."
"No, it is! I've seen it."
"No, it's not. It was, and then it didn't."
Isaac paused. "What?"
"Oh good Christ." Claude rolled his eyes. "You painted a future, not the future. Bloke got hold of a power he couldn't control, started to explode, another bloke nipped in and took him away, big bomb blast in the middle of New Mexico, no more kaboom. Can I make it any clearer for you?"
"It..." Isaac struggle with the concept. "We're not going to die?"
"Not today." Claude looked at him. "Well, some of us, anyway."
"But it's the future! It can't just not happen!" Isaac said, frightened. "What the hell good are any of my paintings if they don't happen?"
"You sound like you were waitin' on it," Claude said. "Be glad it didn't, and beat it."
He didn't wait for Isaac to obey, which Isaac had no intention of doing at any rate. Instead he wandered back to where Bennet and the new chick were talking. Isaac went to his room and sat heavily on the little cot bed.
He knew that he had been clinging on to sanity by his fingernails ever since Simone died.
Now he gave up and let this news carry him right over the edge.
Next time, on Heroes ("Changes"):
He could practically see himself back in Primatech's offices, leashed up and tagged like a good dog.
Adults did that. They fixed the problems they caused.
"You and Peter and Jack, and me, and others like us on this side of the line, we're the bait."
"Bennets don't turn and run," she said. "Neither do Petrellis."
"Pleased to meet you," Hiro said. "Mother of Flying Man."
"You're going to have to trust me sometime." "You're going to have to earn it."
Jack was woken by two men shaking him roughly. This was not the way he spent most mornings.
A hero realises their own power, calls it up, and offers it to a world that isn't always prepared to accept it.
Chapter Twenty
Rating: PG-13 for language and violence
Summary: Hiro is depressed, Ando is worried, Claire is found, Claude is angry, Angela Petrelli is unsuccessfully seduced, and Isaac is told the truth about the bomb blast.
Notes: "The Red Queen", by Matt Ridley, is a book about theoretical biology and the advantages of individual sexual versus asexual reproduction in the "evoutionary arms race". So...it is about sex...kind of. :D
Originally posted 4.18.07
HIRO, ANDO, AND NATHAN - PETRELLI
Ando wasn't sure what to do.
Hiro was clearly depressed, not that he blamed him. Once you've saved New York from an atomic blast and helped a flying man get elected to public office, it's hard to keep the excitement going. Ando felt that he could use less excitement in his life, actually, but then he wasn't Hiro. He'd been perfectly happy working in a cubicle -- he couldn't go back to that now, of course, not after what he'd seen, but it hadn't been a bad life.
Hiro hadn't liked the work and had always wanted something more. He'd had it, for a while. The quest. The sword. The bomb. And now what?
They showed up to the office that morning because Ando didn't want Hiro moping in the hotel room but he didn't know what else to do. Everyone seemed to have a purpose, everyone was doing something. They'd seen Nathan and Peter too, Peter with his bizarre scar and total unself-consciousness about it. But Nathan and Peter clearly needed some time to talk, and so he and Hiro ended up helping someone fix a photocopier.
Ando could get to like New York. He didn't really have any family back home in Japan, and he felt marginally useful here, at least. Maybe Nathan would hire him as a translator. Not without Hiro, of course.
"When you are in the future," he said to Hiro, sitting at the conference table and still moping, "you should remember this and come back and say something to yourself. Something exciting."
"Doesn't work that way," Hiro replied morosely.
"We could go raid the comic book stores."
"You can if you want."
"Someone must need saving somewhere," Ando said desperately. Hiro shrugged. He was close to suggesting they try to talk to Mr. Isaac again, but they hadn't exactly had a good reception last time.
Over Hiro's shoulder, he saw Nathan lean out of his office and tilt his head. Ando blinked. Nathan gestured for him to come over, then put a finger to his lips.
"Well, stay here and I'll see if I can find something interesting to do," he said casually. Hiro nodded.
"Hey," Nathan said, when Ando was in his office and the door was closed. "What's up with Hiro? Shouldn't you two be out celebrating?"
"He is unhappy," Ando replied.
"Yeah, I see that. You know why?"
"Yes. His quest is over. He feels useless."
"He helped save New York!"
Ando shrugged. "He says, what now?"
Nathan blinked at him. "What now? There's a whole world out there. Places to see, time to stop, people to save or whatever."
"But no quest."
Nathan peered out the blinds at Hiro, slumped unhappily in his chair.
"I do not know what to do," Ando told him. "Without purpose, Hiro is miserable."
"Aren't we all," Nathan murmured.
***
CLAIRE, BENNET, PARKMAN, AND CLAUDE - THE WAREHOUSE
Bennet had spent the day, and most of the evening before, starting to arrange the new company. If he thought about Claire he felt sick and angry; Claire in the hands of Baker, possibly in the hands of Nakamura. She hadn't looked like she was a prisoner, but the fear was still there. And even if she wasn't, how could that kid possibly keep her safe?
Parkman kept telling him to eat the damn hamburger he'd brought back, but Bennet wasn't hungry. He was sketching out a business model for the company. Before he'd been recruited, he had actually been pretty good at this stuff. He knew how to manage people and goods. And if he was managing he wasn't thinking so much.
He looked up when he heard footsteps, expecting that it would be Isaac, prowling around as he usually did. His first order of business was going to be to detox Isaac again, forcibly if necessary. If he kept on going the way he had, he'd be dead inside of a month.
Instead, it was a slight, slim figure, half in shadow. He took the safety off the gun sitting on the table, but didn't pick it up. It might be anyone. A squatter, a junkie, even a spy or an emissary from Linderman --
Then she stepped into the light, a pool of fluorescent light that turned her blonde hair deep orange-gold.
"Claire," he breathed.
"Daddy?" she asked.
He didn't remember even moving, but suddenly he was standing in the light, holding her, her face pressed against his shirt. She was safe, she was real, she was touchable, holding him so tight it hurt and -- no, that was him trembling, not her.
The world narrowed down to a single sensation -- his child in his arms.
"It's okay," he heard himself say. "Dad's here now."
"Bennet," Parkman said warily, from some distance off.
"Matt, I want you to meet my -- " he swung around, beaming, wanting to introduce his daughter, to show someone else that she was really there. Instead he came face to face with the business end of his own pistol.
Standing in front of him was a man out of his nightmares.
"Give me a reason," Claude Rains said.
***
THE HAITIAN, AMY MARTIN, AND ANGELA PETRELLI - NYC
"As abilities go, that is something of a limited asset, my dear," Mrs. Petrelli said. Amy glanced at her newfound friend, who apparently didn't have a name, and then back at the dark, severe-looking woman in front of her.
"Well, it's...fun," she said. "And it makes people laugh."
She hadn't really asked to be picked up at the airport in a big black sedan and driven to some random mansion in the middle of nowhere, but it had all sort of...happened. And she didn't have classes the next day, so it wasn't like she had anywhere to be. But Mrs. Petrelli was a little judgemental, and reminded Amy uncomfortably of her mother.
"When did you find you had this particular talent?" Mrs. Petrelli asked.
"High school, I think," Amy said. It was hard to remember, to be honest. "I started doing fortunetelling because my friends thought it was fun, and that turned into card tricks, but I didn't really have to do anything special. You know that trick where you ask someone to pick a card, any card?"
"I'm familiar with it."
"Well, I just know what the card is. And then it turned out I could pull things out of peoples' ears."
"I don't suppose you've tried sawing someone in half."
"No," Amy admitted. "But if I have an audience I can levitate them."
Mrs. Petrelli looked pensively at her, then walked to a desk nearby and wrote something on a piece of paper. She folded it, placed it in an envelope, and handed it to Amy.
"There's a question in the envelope," she said. "Can the...I'm sorry, what did you say your stage name was?"
"The Mysterious Morgana."
Mrs. Petrelli sighed. Well, not everyone was cut out for show business.
"Can the Mysterious Morgana answer the question?" she asked. Amy pressed the envelope to her forehead and closed her eyes.
"A warehouse at Watts and Washington," she said. It only worked if you fluttered your eyelids a little, even though she felt like an idiot doing it.
Mrs. Petrelli raised her eyebrows. Amy wondered if she'd done something wrong.
"My friend will take you home," she said. "I think you've just provided me with some excellent information, Amy. I look forward to meeting you again."
In the car, Amy opened the envelope. The question inside read, Where is my granddaughter at this moment?
***
BENNET, CLAUDE, CLAIRE, MATT, AND JACK - THE WAREHOUSE
"Claude," Bennet said, more concerned about Claire than his own chances of surviving this. Forgetting what she was, what she could do, he moved so that he stood in front of her. "You can shoot me but you're not taking her away from me."
"Hey, hey, nobody's gonna shoot anyone, are they?" Matt asked. "There's kids here. Let's all just stop and take a moment."
Bennet looked to his left. There was another figure there -- Jack Baker, standing off to one side with a peculiar, confused look on his face.
"Claude, put the gun down," Claire said, sidestepping away from him.
"Claire, get behind me," Bennet ordered.
"It's okay," she said. "He won't hurt me. He can't, anyway."
"Come on, man," Parkman added. "You really gonna shoot a man in front of his kid?"
"No, just slightly to the left of her," Claude answered.
"You followed us," Baker said.
"Too right I did," Claude answered. "I'm not lettin' him put you both away."
"Claude, I told you, he hid me," Claire said.
"And he told me we were friends," Claude replied. Bennet edged towards the gun, and Claude smiled.
"Stop," he said.
Bennet felt himself freeze without meaning to. He'd -- he'd just been Spoken to.
By Claude.
"Nice trick, eh?" Claude continued. "Now, this can all end pretty and nice and nobody's going to get hurt, but we need to get a few things straight first. So I want you to look me in the eye and tell me the bloody truth, Bennet."
"What do you want to know?" Bennet asked, honestly perplexed.
"Why're you here?"
"To find my daughter."
"Why?"
"Because she's my daughter," Bennet said desperately.
"He's a Telepath," Matt said, startled. "I can hear him reading your mind."
Claude narrowed his eyes. "And the Company?"
Bennet darted his eyes desperately to Claire. Don't make me confess in front of my child, Claude.
Slowly, Claude eased the pistol back and flicked the safety on. Matt charged forward, like a moron, and Claude raised his other hand, shoving him back without touching him. He set the pistol on the table.
"Um," Baker said. Everyone looked at him. He glanced around, as if he wasn't expecting all the attention. "So. Uh. Hi, Mr. Bennet. Nice to meet you."
Claude snorted.
"The kid's harmless," he said. "He's not with Yamagoto. Nakamura the younger, maybe."
Bennet blinked. "Nakamura's kid? He's mixed up in this?"
"You're not up on the times," Claude continued.
"Obviously not, and at the moment I could give a damn," Bennet said, turning to Claire. He brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," she said quietly. "Really."
"I see you met Claude."
"He -- " Claire glanced at Claude, who was standing with his arms crossed, waiting patiently. "He's been helping me. And others. Like Jack."
Bennet looked up. "Thank you," he said, to the man who had been about to shoot him. Claude grunted.
"Dad, I missed you -- "
Bennet hugged her again, kissed the top of her head. "I missed you too. I was terrified they'd get to you before I could. I won't send you away again, I promise. I'm done with the Company. For real this time."
"Where are Mom and Lyle?" Claire asked. "Are they okay? Do they miss me?"
Bennet bit down hard on his immediate reaction. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Claude flinch.
"They -- we can talk about them later. Don't worry. What matters is you're safe, okay?"
Claire smiled, and the world felt all right again. She turned and gestured to Baker, who moved as if he were afraid some more invisible people were going to show up and try to shoot him.
"This is Jack," she said. "He helped me find you. He's like me. He -- "
"Finds things," Bennet said. "I'm aware."
"Someone's been doing their homework," Claude muttered.
"He came all the way from California to find me," Claire said.
"Why?" Bennet asked. If Baker wasn't working for Yamagoto, why was he so desperate to find Claire?
"Nobody knows. Not even Jack," she said, and giggled a little, a laugh on the verge of hysteria. "It's been kind of crazy."
"Tell me about it," Bennet agreed. "Where are you staying? With him?"
"Not...really," she said. "I -- it's a long story. And we kinda don't have a whole lot of time right now. I keep getting busted for sneaking out."
He raised an eyebrow. "That doesn't sound like you at all."
She smiled. "Listen, I'm staying somewhere safe. But I gotta get back. I'll come back tomorrow, okay?"
"Claire -- "
"It's all right, Dad." She kissed his cheek. The look in her eyes was too grown-up for any sixteen-year-old, but it was the same thing he saw in the eyes of others -- Matt, Claude, the kid Jack. Some knowledge that he didn't have. Wouldn't ever have.
She was safe. She was protected. That was what mattered.
He squeezed her hands. "Okay. Come back tomorrow. I'll be here."
She held out a hand and Baker took it, eyes following her, not even looking at him as they walked out. Bennet followed until they were through the door and down into a subway stop nearby.
"You let her go easy," Claude said, looking over his shoulder.
"She's safe?"
"She's indestructible. How much safer do you want?"
"From the Company."
"Safer than most," Claude said bitterly. Bennet turned, walking back down the hallway, and heard Claude following him. He remembered that sound; ghostly footsteps at his heels, nobody there to make them when he turned.
In the warehouse proper, Matt was still sitting at the table, looking bereft and a little stunned. Bennet didn't blame him, but he didn't have time to answer Matt's questions right now. Instead he turned around, half-expecting Claude would be invisible again.
He looked older than even the paintings Isaac had done. Older, and tired. And not exactly dressed as sharply as he used to be when they were partners.
And with a few new skill sets, too.
"You're an Empath," he said. It wasn't a question.
"Your wife and son are dead," Claude replied.
"You lied to me -- for eight years -- you lied to the Company -- "
"Better than being an experiment," Claude said. "Better than being a Procedure."
"Those people had no options, they were a danger -- "
"They weren't given an option. Not by you."
"I did what had to be done," Bennet said. "And you were right there with me."
"You did what you thought should be done," Claude retorted. "There's a difference."
"I suppose you claim the high moral ground? You did it too -- "
"And I stopped! Did you think I was joking when I said I wouldn't hunt my own people?" Claude shouted. "You didn't care until it was your daughter in the dissection room. Or have you forgotten Timothy?"
"I haven't forgotten any of them," Bennet said through gritted teeth.
"Well, lucky them."
"Do you know why I'm here?" Bennet demanded. "Here, in this freezing warehouse? Do you understand what's going on?"
"Explain it to me then," Claude said, sneering.
"Read my mind," Bennet challenged.
"Don't tempt me."
"Go on. How many times did you do it when we were partners? Here I thought we worked well together, but all along it was just the Empath, pulling the wool over his partner's eyes."
"You think that's all it was? Yes, I just ran round using power, without a care in the world. D'you know what it's like hiding that kind of thing from the Company? Day after day, year after year?"
"Yes," Bennet said. "I do."
"Fine. You want the truth? So do I."
Claude's eyes narrowed to slits and Bennet felt ice run in his veins. This was not Matt's hesitant, workmanlike telepathy; this was someone with experience, with no qualms, digging in his brain for what he might find. Claude was in his head.
At the same time, the link flowed in the opposite direction; thoughts and images passed back to him, Claude's thoughts, Claude's memories. He didn't know what Claude was taking from him, but he knew what he was being shown. Years of cautious hiding, years of restraint, while Claude taught his students and tried to protect the ones he could. And, to Bennet's surprise, not a single contact with his own mind. Not once had Claude invaded his privacy, though he could feel times when he'd wanted to -- times when Claude wanted to feel what it was like to hold your children in your arms or even what it was like to do the job without the slightest hesitation or doubt.
He saw Peter Petrelli, the man who'd saved his daughter, being trained day after day, hours on end, until Claude himself was so tired he let the pup go because he didn't want to show weakness. He saw Claire through Claude's eyes, the first time they'd met in seven years. And he saw, though the other man tried to hide it, Claude's real name. Given to Peter, for a while, but Claude's first.
And then the images stopped, and he staggered back. Claude hadn't moved.
"So that's the game," the invisible man said. "A new Company. Good old Alexander. Bet he's dyin' to get his hands on us."
"It's not going to be that way."
"No, it's going to be out and out warfare, and you want me to help you."
"Isn't it better than hiding?" Bennet asked. And then, daringly, "Simon?"
"You've no right to use that name."
"You certainly haven't made much use of it." Bennet turned to Matt. "You wanted to meet Simon Porter. Here he is. This is Matt Parkman."
"Your new partner," Claude said scornfully to Bennet.
"That's you?" Matt asked. "You're Simon Porter?"
"How the hell does he know that name?" Claude demanded.
"Didn't you see that?" Bennet said, letting just a hint of nastiness creep in. "Isaac painted your name. Now we know why."
"Some of us do," Claude said.
"We need you, Claude," Bennet continued. "Linderman won't fund us without you."
"Alexander Linderman can get fucked," Claude said. "You're a day late and a dollar short. I'm not throwing my lot in with a second Primatech. I'm not doing anyone's dirty work for them."
"I told you -- " Bennet started.
"And I don't believe you! You chose the Company over me. It was a near miss with Claire. You don't give a damn, you're not one of us. And I won't be part of anything with you at the head."
"There's another solution," Matt said quietly. Both of them looked at him.
"Matt, maybe you should leave," Bennet said.
"I know I'm not as smart as you guys," Matt said, not quite keeping the dry, bitter tone out of his voice. "And I know I didn't spend the last twenty years or whatever, working all this out. It just seems to me that if we can't fight the Company without him, and he doesn't want another Primatech, the best thing to do would be to put him in charge. Isn't that what the painting says anyway? Managing Director?"
"Have you lost your mind?" Claude asked. "Has he?" he demanded, turning to Bennet.
"I don't know you," Matt shrugged. "But I know Bennet. I know he trusts you."
"He shot me!"
"All the more reason to keep an eye on him," Matt said. There was a thoughtful silence.
"We need help," Bennet said. "We need leadership. I'm a good field agent, Claude, I'm just as happy doing what I trained for. If that's what it takes to get you on our side -- "
"I'm not on your side. Ever," Claude said. "I'm on their side. Claire's side. Peter's side. Nathan Petrelli's side, and I can't tell you how much that pains me."
"She's my daughter, Claude," Bennet replied. "She's all I have left. I have to protect her. I have to destroy Primatech. And to do that I need you."
"I'm not a businessman," Claude said.
"No," said another voice, and all three men looked up.
Angela Petrelli stood in the doorway, arms crossed, eyeing them coolly. "But I am."
"Well," Claude said, into the deafening silence, "Isn't this a school reunion."
"Hello, Claude," Angela said, walking forward. He held still, watching warily as she kissed him on the cheek. "I knew you looked familiar before. I understand I owe you Peter's life. Twice."
"He's paid me back," Claude answered.
"I'm glad to hear it. Bennet, how are you?"
"Angela," Bennet replied, offering her his hand. She grasped and shook it, touching his wrist with her other hand.
"And this must be Mr. Parkman."
"Ma'am," Matt said, nodding shyly.
"Matt, this is Angela, one of my my old associates. Our old associates," Bennet corrected himself. "Out of the New York office. Now defunct."
"I saw Claire leaving as I arrived; I'm sure her young man will make sure she gets home safely."
"You knew she was here?" Bennet asked. "In New York?"
"Of course I did. Claude, you haven't told him?"
"Told me what?" Bennet demanded.
"Claire is my granddaughter. My eldest son -- Nathan's -- child. I assumed someone would have shared that tidbit with you by now."
Bennet stared openly at her. She smiled at him.
"You didn't think I worked for the Company all those years for my health? Granted, a secretary's not very well-paid, but they do hear things. I had to make sure someone was looking after her."
"Wait -- " Matt shook his head as if he were trying to clear it. "You're...his adopted daughter's...grandmother."
"That's right."
"And you work for the Company."
"Worked," she said. "Just long enough to be sure Claire was safe. After a while, you get to know people, people who think like you do...you find things out. Then you don't need to work there anymore. I kept in touch."
"The Haitian," Bennet said.
"Hmm?" she asked.
"He said he answered to a higher authority than me. He was talking about you."
She nodded.
"And that means Peter Petrelli..."
"Is your daughter's uncle, yes."
Bennet sat heavily, trying to process all the information he'd absorbed in the past half an hour.
"We like to keep things in the family," Angela said. "Claude, Mr. Parkman, could I have a few moments alone with Mr. Bennet?"
***
ANGELA PETRELLI, CLAUDE RAINS, AND MR. BENNET - THE NEW YORK OFFICE
THIRTEEN YEARS AGO
"Hello, Angela."
Angela looked up as the door closed; Mr. Bennet was standing in the reception room, smiling a greeting.
"Mr. Bennet. Nice to see you in New York again," she said.
"Happy to be here."
"How's your daughter?"
One of the sure ways to make Mr. Bennet light up was to ask him about his daughter. "She's fine. Getting bigger all the time. And looking forward to her new brother, any day now."
"Really? That's wonderful news."
"We certainly think so. I'm here to see Mr. Craig?"
"Yes, he's expecting you. Go ahead." She clicked the door-lock button under her desk. Bennet grasped the handle and pulled. "Not you," she added.
"What?" he asked, pausing.
"Mr. Craig was very explicit that only Mr. Bennet attend the meeting."
Claude appeared over Bennet's shoulder, looking annoyed.
"How does she know?" he asked rhetorically. "She always knows."
"I can't give away all my secrets, Claude."
Bennet gave Claude a nice try look and passed into Mr. Craig's office. Claude moved forward, leaning on her desk.
"So what's a pretty woman like you doing in a dump like this?" he asked.
"I'm old enough to be your mother, Claude."
"You aren't. Let me buy you lunch."
She held up her left hand, wiggling her ring finger, making the wedding band catch the light.
"I said lunch, not a hotel room."
"It's all the same to you."
"Don' make me sit in the corner an' read a magazine. He'll be in there for hours."
She looked up at him, smiled, and reached into a drawer, handing him a book. He rolled his eyes.
"Entertain me," he said. She laughed; you couldn't help but laugh at Claude sometimes.
"Fine. Tell me about your exciting life in Odessa," she said, turning to look up at him.
"Well, that'll take all of thirty seconds. Tell me about your exciting life in New York." He picked up a new photo frame on her desk. "These your boys?"
"I had it taken last week, right before my older one shipped out."
"Your younger one doesn't look like he appreciates the tie you put him in."
"He's a terror. Thirteen going on three thousand. Do you have children, Claude?"
"None known. I leave the breedin' to Bennet."
"Good news about his wife."
"Oh aye. Bad news for me though. Paternity leave? Are you kiddin' me? Got to break in a new partner and just when I get 'em how I like 'em I get Bennet back again."
"Do you see his daughter much?"
"Every so often. Sweet little thing. Toddlin' and talkin' now. Calls me Kwad. Right then," he added, tapping the book. "I'll betake me off to improve my mind, shall I? The Red Queen -- what's it about?"
"Sex. You'll like it."
Claude was ten pages in before he looked up over the edge of the book. "You're a cruel woman, Angela."
***
ISAAC MENDEZ AND CLAUDE RAINS - THE WAREHOUSE
All the raised voices in the warehouse woke Isaac, who had set up a cot bed and was sleeping in one of the few rooms in the building that had heating. He missed most of what was being said, but he picked up enough that when the bearded guy left Bennet talking to some old lady, he had kind of figured out what was going on.
"Who's the chick?" he asked the dude, who was studying one of the paintings tacked up on the wall.
"Shove off."
"Fuck you too, man. So, like, are you one of us?" Isaac said, shifting anxiously from foot to foot.
"Did you not hear me? Go away," the man replied, giving him an annoyed look.
"Sorry, it's just, I'm a little strung out, and it looked like you did some mind reading back there."
"Very observant," the man said sarcastically.
"Isaac. Mendez." Isaac held out his hand.
"Claude Rains," Claude said. He didn't shake his hand.
"You're the guy in my paintings!"
"Burn 'em."
"No, I paint the future."
"I know. Saw your mural. Piece of work, that."
"It's gonna happen."
Claude looked up at him narrowly. "Sorry, mate. Been there, done that, prevented the armageddon."
"No, it is! I've seen it."
"No, it's not. It was, and then it didn't."
Isaac paused. "What?"
"Oh good Christ." Claude rolled his eyes. "You painted a future, not the future. Bloke got hold of a power he couldn't control, started to explode, another bloke nipped in and took him away, big bomb blast in the middle of New Mexico, no more kaboom. Can I make it any clearer for you?"
"It..." Isaac struggle with the concept. "We're not going to die?"
"Not today." Claude looked at him. "Well, some of us, anyway."
"But it's the future! It can't just not happen!" Isaac said, frightened. "What the hell good are any of my paintings if they don't happen?"
"You sound like you were waitin' on it," Claude said. "Be glad it didn't, and beat it."
He didn't wait for Isaac to obey, which Isaac had no intention of doing at any rate. Instead he wandered back to where Bennet and the new chick were talking. Isaac went to his room and sat heavily on the little cot bed.
He knew that he had been clinging on to sanity by his fingernails ever since Simone died.
Now he gave up and let this news carry him right over the edge.
Next time, on Heroes ("Changes"):
He could practically see himself back in Primatech's offices, leashed up and tagged like a good dog.
Adults did that. They fixed the problems they caused.
"You and Peter and Jack, and me, and others like us on this side of the line, we're the bait."
"Bennets don't turn and run," she said. "Neither do Petrellis."
"Pleased to meet you," Hiro said. "Mother of Flying Man."
"You're going to have to trust me sometime." "You're going to have to earn it."
Jack was woken by two men shaking him roughly. This was not the way he spent most mornings.
A hero realises their own power, calls it up, and offers it to a world that isn't always prepared to accept it.
Chapter Twenty
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I worry about Hiro as much as Ando does.
Angela Petrelli kicks ass like all the other Petrellis. Why can't the ones in the show be so kick-ass?
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*blinks*
*desperately tries not to explode into a complete gigglefit in the middle of the office*
Oh that icon is perfect and makes so much sense :)
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I find myself in desperate need for some serious Claude/Peter fic now, but since the majority of the interaction that makes them so good is from here I'll most likely be faced with a flood of Peter/Nathan.
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Sidenote: Have you seen
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Claude as head of the new company.. I think it's just perfectly brilliant, he'd do what must be done but would still protect them all (heroes) And Linderman.. I assume he isn't a hero here right? Or are you still hiding something up your sleeve? :)
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I have a great time writing Claude as the head of the company. As for Linderman...I really ended up losing that thread, so there's only a very little bit of information about him. I really do need to add in a scene about him, I think....
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Oooooh, flexible powers...! I think I want to see more of Amy. Is she going to get involved in Hirou somehow? Pretty please?
"Where are Mom and Lyle?" Claire asked. "Are they okay? Do they miss me?"
Oh god. That ain't gonna be a fun conversation. Wouldn't miss it for the world, though.
"Not...really," she said. "I -- it's a long story. And we kinda don't have a whole lot of time right now. I keep getting busted for sneaking out."
He raised an eyebrow. "That doesn't sound like you at all."
Aaawww, I loved that! Look, Bennet's getting human again! There is hope! I rather like the guy when he has a sense of humor.
Angela as a secretary. Hmmmmm. It seems a little odd to me that a lady of her stature would have been a secretary, even thirteen years ago--I'd kind of pictured her as more of a secret agent for Linderman or something. But hey, I'm not picky! Because you have made her awesome.
(Incidentally, what's your timeline for Nathan, or do you have one? I'm working on a story about him, and I'm finding it hard to get all the college-Navy-law school details to a point where they make sense...)
He knew that he had been clinging on to sanity by his fingernails ever since Simone died.
No, Isaac! Don't go crazy! Wait, yes, do, it's good drama. As long as you don't kill anybody. But most of my favorites are varying degrees of unkillable anyway.
Only two more updates, raaaaaa.
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Yeah, she's kind of like an empath, except she needs to do it in a showy way :D
She's not going to be involved in Hirou much in the story itself, but in the deleted scenes she has a nice scene :D
There is hope! I rather like the guy when he has a sense of humor.
He's quite human, when he's not on some mission of terror. :D
Angela as a secretary. Hmmmmm. It seems a little odd to me that a lady of her stature would have been a secretary, even thirteen years ago
You would think, but I envision her as never actually having been involved with the Company prior to Claire's birth. I think she would have kept an eye on Meredith, and then once Meredith disappeared she would have found out more about the men who came to take Claire. From there, using her husband's contacts, she would have gotten more information about Primatech and eventually gotten a job where she would be able to monitor Claire.
(Incidentally, what's your timeline for Nathan, or do you have one? I'm working on a story about him, and I'm finding it hard to get all the college-Navy-law school details to a point where they make sense...)
I kind of make it up as I go. Heidi8 worked one out that mostly makes sense. To my mind, he went into the Navy from officer training, took college courses while he was in the military, and went straight into law school after he finished his hitch. I think I have him about ten years older than Peter.
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"Wait -- " Matt shook his head as if he were trying to clear it. "You're...his adopted daughter's...grandmother."
Hee. I can imagine Matt desperately wanting to make a tree diagram at this moment. I know I want to
when I'm bored in classsometimes.And aw, I actually felt really bad for poor crazy Isaac in that last scene. The return of total asshole Claude is much appreciated, though.
-blue
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Also, I like all of your characterizations except Isaac's. I love show!Isaac (everytime the cemmercial comes on where he's all, "It's my turn to be a hero," I cry a little bit) and I see him as a very emotional person, very sweet and well-meaning but a little messed up inside. He's like what Peter would be like with a less advantageous upbringing, I think. But your Isaac is kind of cruel and unemotional. I understand Simone's death would have changed him, but I never saw it as an incident that would close him off emotionally.
Oh, how I hate to criticize.
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(Anonymous) 2007-04-18 08:54 pm (UTC)(link)And Claude managing the new company!! That's just fudgy fugdy icing on this chapter, man.
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I will come back later with a proper review.
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Better this morning. Review when (if) my paper ever gets written!
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*hugs* hope you continue to feel better.
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Angela is priceless...and working for the Company? even better.
I kind of want to hug Claude now...but not. For fear of flying through a wall or window. Unlike Claire who spontaneously heals...I would have to spend weeks in the hospital and I'm not a big fan of hospitals.
And if Issac tries to blow up New York can someone please kill him...or atleast kick him really hard somewhere where it will hurt?
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Claude likes hugs, he just won't admit it....
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Claude could be a great CEO, and Peter could be an even greater personal aide. Oh, the possibilities!
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Claude's smart mouth!
I don't think I've said before, but I love what you have of Matt...he's not there much, but he's real and present and the same person he is on the show.
Angela's subtle manipulations are just...art. I hope we see more of her.
Kwad. Heh.
P.S. Sorry about my previous comment--really, it was a compliment, the imaginary people were very, very real, and I'd just heard some awful news and...yeah, it just kind of sloshed all over the place. But this is a very powerful chapter--just so you know.
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As for your previous comment -- I took it as a compliment, because it meant I was having an emotional effect. Please don't worry -- I was only concerned that I'd upset you.
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What's The Red Queen? Is it a real book? What's it about? And why is Angela so evil?
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And if I may say so, Copper, you're awfully fast getting back to me tonight.