All You Have to Do Is Ask

Participants:

bob_icon.gif peter2_icon.gif

Scene Title All You Have to Do Is Ask
Synopsis Peter tells Bob about Bryan's plan to rescue Elle through PARIAH and Sylar.
Date October 1, 2008

Primatech Research — Medical Wing


Something about the Bishop family must maka them difficult to track down in times of crisis. Bob, like his daughter, takes a great deal of work just to locate — and by the time Peter finally arrives in the medical wing where the head of the Company is being kept, it takes him an additional twenty minutes just to convince the guards posted outside the door to let him inside.

Near the window, attached to an IV, sits the man who Peter has come to see. His face is pale and gaunt, but one side of it is covered in a purple bruise that has caused his skin to discolour even further around the edges, giving it a sickly yellow hue. Although he doesn't turn to face Peter as he enters, his eyes track the movement of his reflection in the glass. "Dr. Knutson and Dr. Solonga have done quite the number on you, haven't they?"

Hesitating when he comes in sight of Bob, Peter lowers his head with a respectful nod, folding his hands behind his back. "Sir." He'd only heard from Bob indirectly, in memos and documents that — for all Peter knows — were copied and handed out to all Company employees. "I — " Faced now with Mister Bishops' injuries, Peter seems hesitant to bring up what he's planning on. "I'm sorry to bother you at this hour." he takes a few more steps into the room, looking over to the window that Bob stares out of, then back to the man himself.

"Doctor Salonga and Doctor Knutson have helped me as much as they can in my recovery." He affords Mister Bishop a meager smile, unaware of what he truly meant, "Their bedside manner, however, isn't what I came here to talk to you about." Clearing his throat, Peter looks over at one of the medical staff members by the door, then takes another step in, keeping his voice down. "While I'm appreciative for the opportunity you've given me here, Sir…" He dithers, biting down on his lower lip. "I… I just recently returned from an exercise with Agent Buckley, which I have reason to suspect was not only against Company policy, but potentially against any active plans on the retrieval of Agent B — " Peter winces, correcting himself, "Your daughter."

Bishop's expression doesn't change much, but there's a noticeable stiffening of his shoulders when Peter mentions his daughter. Eyes solemn, he angles his head away from the window, away from his visitor, and raises one bandaged hand to splay his fingers across his face. "That doesn't surprise me." There's a tiredness in his voice that wasn't there before, and as he exhales slowly through his nostrils, his entire seems to deflate — exhausted. "I'm sure you have a lot of questions."

Watching Bob's mannerisms, Peter relaxes his posture a little, looking around the room before spotting an empty chair. He takes a few steps over, taking it by the back as he slides it across the floor, moving to sit down near Mister Bishop, trying to relax the atmosphere some. "I appreciate the concern, Sir, but I'm sure my memory will come back eventually. I'm going to speak to Doctor Salonga about mental exercises using her gift I've obtained, in order to help recover what I've lost." One hand is raised, waving dismissively as he sees just how tired Bob is. "that's neither here nor there though, Sir. Agent Buckley, he met with one of the individuals that partook in the breakout, a…" He searches for the name, as if it were alien to him, "Sylar?"

Leaning forward in the chair, Peter folds his hands and rests his forearms on his knees, shoulders slouched. "He was bargaining with Sylar, in Central Park. They were discussing the location of…of Elle." He settles for a medium of personal and impersonal, "Agent Buckley supposedly has the address where she's being held by the escapees, but there's some sort of arrangement between he and Sylar, but I'm not sure what it is. I asked him why he hasn't utilized Company resources to track her down, and he tried to assuage my concerns." Peter's brow tenses as he gives this explanation, going over the facts again himself. "I believe," He corrects himself, "I'm certain Ageny Buckley is trying to save Elle's life, but I fear that he may be too personally invested in her retrieval for his own good. I… I wasn't sure if he'd come to you or not, and your reaction…" One shoulder rolls slightly, "I thought you deserved to know."

"Sylar isn't interested in Elle," Bishop tells Peter, his tone flat, "he's after a man named Adam Monroe, the man who's holding my daughter." He lowers his hand from his face and, finally, swivels in his chair to face Peter, revealing a considerable amount of dried blood crusted around his nostrils and a series of stitches that start at the corner of his mouth and end where his jaw meets his chin. He's in bad shape, not only emotionally but physically as well. "You have to understand that my hands are tied. Monroe is vindictive enough that he'll kill Elle if I try to make the first move — and that includes telling my agents what to do."

He settles back in his seat and folds his hands in his lap, locking his fingers together so tightly that his wrists begin to tremble with exertion. It's taking all of his control to remain composed and to keep his breath from hitching more than it already is. "I was hoping that he would have contacted us and made his demands by now, but—"

"But he never had demands, did he?" Peter leans back when Bob turns around, a worried look crossing his face before he stares down at the tile floor beneath his feet. "I didn't know," He mumbles, thinking back to how empty Adam's profile folio was. "About how Monroe is." Looking back up to Bob, Peter breathes a heavy sigh out through his nose. "Sir, with all due respect, won't Adam have every likelihood of doing that if Agent Buckley and this Sylar individual come after him?" His eyes narrow for a moment, and he looks up from the floor.

"Doctor Knutson and Agent Buckley were convinced recently, that I could help them get your daughter back. I was hesitant about it at first, but I think I'm starting to get a hang of things, clearing the cobwebs out…" Peter's lips purse together, "I listened to Sylar's thoughts, I read what of his profile I was given clearance to read, I know that he's a lunatic. Bryan seems to think that dealing with him is going to work out, but I have reservations." Peter looks over to the window, "I could pry the information from Bryan, the location. If we can do something with that, something… I will." Finally, he looks back to Bob, a weary smile on his face. "If there's anything I can do to help you, Sir, I will. Your Company fixed me up as best as they could, and didn't have to show me that courtesy at all. I just…" Peter shakes his head, "A father and his daughter shouldn't have to be separated. If there's something I can do to help, all you have to do is ask."

"Just bring my little girl home in one piece," Bob says, suddenly sounding very hoarse. He swallows the lump in his throat and bows his head before letting his gaze drop to the room's shiny linoleum floor and the overhead lights reflecting brightly off it. Once more, he falls silent. It takes a lot of energy to speak, and even more to move — energy he no longer has. He's spent.

Peter closes his eyes as he hears Bob's answer, nodding his head slowly in response. After a moment of silence, he rises up from his chair, walking over to lay a hand gently on Mister Bishops' shoulder. "I will," He says adamantly, fingers giving s slight squeeze. It was all he could possibly say that could make any difference now, given Bob's reactions. With that, Peter lets his hand slide away, and he takes a few steps back from the chair, looking back up to the broken man who sits before him with a sympathetic stare. He nods his head again, no feigning of a good night or a farewell, only the sound of Peter's shoes striking the tile floor as he leaves the room, more determined than ever.


l-arrow.png
October 1st: Changing Faces
r-arrow.png
October 2nd: Favors
Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License