Participants:
| Scene Title | And the Moment's Gone |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | While in Washington KC, Elisabeth meets with the Secretary of the Interior to discuss the matter of his daughter. |
| Date | July 14, 2021 |
The Ambassador Hotel no longer exists. Since the end of the Second American Civil War this multi-story building has been converted into combined offices for the legislative branch of the US Government. But one mainstay of that pre-war era still remains, a ground-floor restaurant that looks pulled from memories of downtown DC.
Under warm goldenrod light the classical architecture of an America gone by where the wealthy and influential meet and drink collides with the political elite of the new America. As Elisbeth Harrison passes through the entrance from the secure lobby, she finds herself thrown into the world of high society and politics. The restaurant is busy approaching the lunch hour and the din of conversations create a comfortable backdrop for an unlikely meeting. Across the restaurant, seated in a circular booth far from the windows, sits a well-groomed man with a chiseled jaw and the air of Old America hanging about him.
The Secretary of the Interior, Cedric Hesser.
The American Reserve
Washington KC
July 14th
11:08 am
As Elisabeth makes her way across the restaurant, Secretary Hesser stands up from his table and offers her a bright smile. The moment she closes the distance he greets her with a firm handshake. “Lieutenant Harrison, it’s a distinct pleasure.”
Elisabeth's smile is gracious as he stands on her approach. It's funny how and where old-fashioned manners make their appearance. Her minuscule hesitation to shake his hand is a holdover from years ago – she's never forgotten that someone spied on her that way. "Secretary Hesser, please. The pleasure is all mine," she replies as she shakes off the momentary hitch, takes his hand, and then slips into her seat so that he can sit back down. "Thank you for being willing to take the call… meeting me for lunch is more than I could have hoped for," she grins at him while she settles, grateful that she dressed appropriately this morning. Definitely 'CEO's wife casual' was the right call. "I hope your family is doing well?" Social niceties are always in vogue.
“They’re fine.” Hesser says quickly, but Elisabeth can hear the uptick in his heart rate. Something is wrong and he’s lying. But his outward demeanor doesn’t show it at all. Hesser sits back down at the booth across from Elisabeth.
“Your husband was a very vocal proponent of my campaign and Raytech contributed a sizable donation. The least I could do is meet with you for that reason alone, even if he bet on the losing horse,” Hesser says, quickly moving away from the topic of family. “But, above and beyond that, you and yours are something of a legend around these parts. I don’t think I need to go into the why of it, either. I might be an elected official, but you’re a certified hero.”
Hesser’s words aren’t hollow platitudes. But he fears they’re perceived that way, which is why he presses the matter. “If it weren’t for the work people like you did a decade ago, we’d all be in a much worse state. You saved this country, and for that you have my eternal gratitude and respect. And—” Hesser laughs to himself, “if you’d vanished to a tropical island nobody would have faulted you. Instead, you’re still wearing the badge and your husband has funneled his wealth toward repairing this country and making up for a decade of technological losses. So, no, it really is my honor.”
"Don't tell President Harding, but my husband is quite certain the nation made a mistake," she laughs softly, coloring a rosy shade when he talks about heroics and gratitude. It takes some of the subtle strain out of her features. Although his reaction when she mentions his family catches her attention. "If you know anything about my husband's history, though, you know he's always going to back the underdog," Elisabeth continues without missing a beat.
"As for not hightailing it to a tropical venue?" She rolls her eyes a bit and smiles. "We did that… got married there. And he did promise me Tahiti…" In a someday that will likely never come. There's a teasing mournfulness to her voice, but she confesses, "Still, it's not really in either one of us to sit around when there's work to be done. So… " A bit of a shrug and a sigh. "Marcus Donovan convinced me to take the badge again and here we are."
A momentary pause brings a thoughtful expression. "I appreciate that so many people think what we did was worth it." Her quiet tone is reflective. Clearing her throat, though, she admits, "Truth is, it's awkward as hell to be thought a legend. We were all just trying to survive something that no one was likely to even believe was happening. Trying to keep as many other people as we could alive on the way to trying to stop a horrible thing that would have made the worst sci-fi movie ever." She pauses and meets his eyes with her blue ones. "Kind of like now, hmm?"
“Kind of like now.” Cedric agrees. Though there’s a hint of humor in his eyes, it’s only there to mask the sincere gravity of what they’re both discussing. That mask is pushed on tighter when the waiter arrives and Cedric flashes him a smile.
“We’ll need another minute.” He says to the waiter who goes about filling their waters. Elisabeth is quiet as she waits for the waiter to fill their glasses, picking it up to sip from it slowly.
"What's good here?" she asks Hesser. "I've never been to Washington KC before, so I'm at the mercy of your tastebuds for a recommendation for what to order."
“It’s honestly only okay,” is his reply once the waiter is out of earshot. “But the brunch menu is pretty good. I spent several years in Louisiana when I was little, so the grits and shrimp speaks to me.” There’s a momentary flash of a smile at a fleeting memory, and then he sets his menu aside, already having set his mind on something.
“What brings you to KC?” Cedric asks. “Other than brunch, I mean.”
"I needed to see my mother-in-law," Elisabeth replies calmly, perusing the menu for another long moment before setting it aside. "Make sure she and my sister-in-law are doing okay – they are both terrible at texting and calling. They get buried in their work. Rightfully so," she adds mildly. "It's important. And I wanted to see if there might be a message from my husband." There's a flash of something that might be worry through her blue eyes, just as quickly gone as it appeared. "No such luck."
She pauses, though, making sure the waiter is not on his way back quite yet as she says solemnly, "But I honestly came for another reason as well. Specifically to speak to you. So I'm actually very glad you asked for brunch out – it makes it a little simpler to get a one-on-one conversation, yeah?" There's no hint of malice or threat to her tone. She genuinely just wanted the privacy. "I'd like to wait on that until after we order, though, if you don't mind." No need for the waiter to overhear something he shouldn't.
Cedric’s brow furrows momentarily and he nods. It’s the only reaction the more sensitive topic receives. “Family’s important,” he agrees as both an aside and a conversational cover. He stays on this topic, but never meaningfully, through the next few minutes. It’s only light, brief mentions of school for his daughter, his wife’s new car, the gymnastics of juggling family life and a political career.
She in return regales him with some stories of her small brood of hellions and their shenanigans, agrees on the difficulties of family life and career in general. Speaks of how much she misses her kids, since they're in Detroit with her parents (and their other mother). After orders are placed and the food has been brought to the table, though, Cedric’s casual tone drops as he lays his napkin across his lap. Elisabeth takes a moment to sip from her glass of water and taste the food that's been set in front of her.
The Cubano on Cedric’s plate—ordered off-menu—sits largely ignored as he tries to get a read on Elisabeth. “Do we need to wait to talk about the important stuff somewhere else?” He wonders, reaching for a finger of Scotch that came with his meal. He’s almost certain he’ll need it, knowing Elisabeth’s reputation and history.
Elisabeth’s blue eyes rise to his face when he asks about talking about things somewhere else and she offers him a slow blink before very deliberately enclosing them in a bubble where sound travels neither into nor out of the edges of their table and chairs. "Not really," she says calmly. "So long as you aren't being watched so closely they'll send a lip-reader to keep you out of trouble just for talking to me." Her smile is soft – she is no threat to him.
"You have nothing to be worried about, Secretary," she assures him in a quiet tone. "The truth is, I wanted to talk to you about your family and bring you an offer that my husband wanted to make to you. Richard had occasion at one point to travel to a future that we've fought hard to avert and learned what your daughter can do. I don't know if she's even manifested yet, so I apologize that this might be a bit startling for you. But he is worried that either you or she could be pushed into a corner." She takes a small bite of the salad that came with her meal, appreciating the freshness of it.
"I'm well aware that you are already on the list of those intended to take up residence in the project. But Richard wanted me to offer you and yours space in the Raytech levels that would be potentially a little less—partisan, shall we call it?—for your family. You wouldn't owe us anything. He has concerns about how the government that follows all this mess might choose to make use of your daughter's abilities. Hell, he has concerns about how they might use her now if she's already manifested and they know about it. He wanted to give you a place where you wouldn't feel obligated or under pressure to use those abilities in ways that might be dangerous or used to further someone's political agenda."
She slants another look up at him and says candidly, "I couldn't honestly care less about anyone's political agendas, I royally hate politics. But I am interested in making sure that your daughter, and all the children who will grow up in this project when we retreat, are as safe from being used as we can keep them. Considering how important their abilities could ultimately be to our survival, I have to admit that I can't disagree with Richard's fears of who will be in charge 10 years from now and what shenanigans they may get up to."
Yeah… he probably needs the drink.
There’s enough in what Elisabeth says it’s hard to know which bit hit Cedric so hard he’s stone dead silent. His sandwich is entirely forgotten. The entire restaurant is forgotten. Elisabeth can not only see the visible vein in his temple but also hear the rapid flutter of his heart. His fingers curl around the napkin in his lap and he opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out except a tightly-throated whisper.
Cedric looks down at his lap, heart still racing, and takes a moment. “What—” he manages to say before looking back up at her. “What?”
It’s in that moment Elisabeth realizes it wasn’t which bit of information that blindsided him, but all of them. There’s a sudden crashing realization she has about how in the loop Cedric might be about anything. Time travel, his daughter’s ability, the obliquely-referenced “project.” There’s confusion in his eyes and also fear.
“Ten… years?” Cedric’s eyes dart from side to side. It’s too much to grasp. So he holds on to the most important thread. “What’s wrong with my daughter?” There—that—is the true fear. And it reflects some confusion back on Elisabeth. She didn’t know anything was wrong with Leah Hesser. But now, it feels like, they may both have something revelatory to share.
"Secre— Cedric, I need you to breathe for me," Elisabeth says quietly, her tone lightly laced with subsonics to calm him. "I'm sorry. I made an assumption that I should not have made in terms of what you knew about Richard's… escapades in the past." And about what he knows about today's shenanigans as well. "Take a deep breath, and let's talk about your daughter, shall we?"
Soothing, calming, she keeps the silence field around their table as she sets her fork down. "You said there's something going on with her… she's the right age to be manifesting her ability. I'm so sorry; I would have tread far more carefully had I realized you didn't know she was SLC-E. I expect she's struggling with it… especially if no one realized it was possible. Can you share with me what's happening? Maybe I can offer some help."
As a lifelong politician, one of the skills Cedric Hesser has refined is a poker-face. That skill is dragged through the dirt and left to die on the side of the road right now. “I—I know my daughter is Expressive. She got tested when everyone else did before the war.” He’s gripping his napkin with both hands, trying not to raise his voice. His reaction is the understandable reflex-anger of a parent concerned for threats to their child.
Laser-focused on that single topic, Cedric reiterates: “What is wrong with my daughter?”
He knows she’s expressive. But not what kind.
Terribly glad she put the field around them, Elisabeth replies quickly – she knows what it's like to fear for your kid. She leans forward, totally honest with him, "I would bet she's manifesting her ability – and it's likely scary as hell. Based on … well, hell. Based on knowledge obtained from a trip Richard took to the future where he met her, Leah's ability is to detect temporal disturbances."
She frowns just a little bit. Could Leah have sensed something about the communications that came through from the array? Does 'temporal disturbance' include timeline overlays? Is her temporal disturbance sense attuned enough to pick up timeline disruptions like ripping open a spacetime portal? Richard's notes said she might have global reach. Hell, the girl could be sensing a time traveler for all Elisabeth knows.
"She could be sensing some things going on that haven't exactly been public knowledge," is what Elisabeth finally settles on. "How bad is it?" She genuinely looks worried for Cedric's daughter. Elisabeth is able to assist with ability training but to hell with keeping the girl's ability quiet if she needs medical help.
Cedric’s expression is a hollow one. He disassociates for a moment, staring through Elisabeth. She can’t be sure he heard anything she said until he abruptly rises from the booth without noticing the oncoming server. His collision with her knocks him back into the moment and he turns as the eyes of everyone in the restaurant turn on him.
“I’m—” Cedric fails to finish the sentence, stumbling over himself to extend a hand to her. The server didn’t fall, bracing herself against the back of the booth. She awkwardly smiles away his help, ducking away from his hand in feigned apology. People in the restaurant pretend to not be paying attention, but they are. Elisabeth can feel eyes on her.
“I have a car outside.” Cedric says more at Elisabeth than to her. He stands at the end of the booth, waiting for her to get up with him. Their food hasn’t even arrived.
Elisabeth slides out of the booth, offering the server who got bumped into a sincere smile. "We're so sorry." She doesn't offer anything else, no platitude like 'he was just surprised' or anything like that. Just the simple apology for his abrupt movement. She'll check later to see if they need to pay the tab. It seems more important right now to get Cedric Hesser out of here. Her blue eyes are somewhere between thoughtful and wary as she joins him but her expression is pleasant and casual. She allows him to pilot both of them down the aisle between tables and toward the outside. Passing through the hotel's lobby, she gives a subtle negative movement of her head to the bodyguard who accompanied her to the hotel – she promised Richard she wouldn't play 'ditch the bodyguard' anymore, but in this case she's perfectly safe. She'll just have to endure Mike's disapproval later.
Coiling dread twists her stomach and she drags a hand across her jaw, letting her breath out slowly as they walk. She doesn't speak again until they have reached the car, safely out of public scrutiny. "It's bad, isn't it?" Her tone is soft, her worry genuine. Both worry for the young girl who is clearly not in good shape if Cedric Hesser's reaction is anything to judge by and also for the thought of why exactly that might be the case, the thought of which scares the ever-loving hell out of Elisabeth.
Cedric’s car is parked on the street, a sleek electric Yamagato Altum. As Cedric approaches he keys in something on his cell phone, unlocking the vehicle and opening the driver and passenger-side doors automatically. He’s also texting someone, likely his own private security, before settling into the driver’s seat.
“Scenic Route.” Cedric says to the vehicle as the interior dash plates comes to life. When Elisabeth settles into the passenger seat, the door slowly swings shut automatically and locks. The steering wheel folds to a subtly more compact configuration and then the car pulls itself away from the curb and carefully into traffic.
Cedric doesn’t say anything as the car starts to drive. He checks a text message on his phone which is mirrored on the dash console simply reading 10-4 from a contact listed as “Security.” Once the car has fully merged into traffic and has started a meandering route through the city, Cedric slouches back into his seat and drags both hands down his face.
“Leah,” Cedric emphasizes, “has been suffering from… episodes for the last three months. Psychotic breaks, the doctors have said.” His resentment toward the doctors is evident in his tone. “Potentially brought on by the stress of me being away so much for work.” He scoffs. “Fucking— best healthcare money can fucking buy in this country and—” He sucks in a sharp breath through his nose, looking at the road ahead.
“So Richard— knows Leah has an ability. What it is because he…” Cedric blinks a few times, brows furrowed together, trying to grapple with this revelation. “Because he—” He looks at Elisabeth, half-accusing and half-desperate for her to tell him this is all a prank. “Time travel is possible?”
"They…. fucking know she's an Expressive and they're telling you it's a goddamn psychotic break? They didn't even try to … negate her or something and see if it helped?" Elisabeth's disgust is patently clear in those words. She's outraged on the Hessers' behalf. Of course… she spent five years in a world where that would have been the first thing that happened because abilities were at least public and doctors knew to look for them.
“No. They offered chemical negation and my wife and I agreed to not. We—” Cedric furrows his brows. “I don’t trust the drugs. Not after what past administrations did. I’m not risking—” He relents, wishing he had a wheel to grip right now.
"I made assumptions I should not have made about what you know and don't know now that you move in these higher circles – chalk it up to being exhausted," she sighs. She props her elbow on the window ledge next to her and covers her mouth with her hand for a moment before then leaning on that hand while she looks at him. "The idea that time travel is possible cannot possibly be a shock to you in a world of people who have abilities that defy simple explanation. So… we're going to leave that at a simple yes. Yes, Richard – and a good number of us – have known that time travel exists for more than a decade now and have experienced it. Some of us multiple times. And on one occasion, Richard learned what her ability is. I think that I can help explain at least some of why Leah might be struggling, if she's manifesting." Not all, though. Because… that's both more and less time than time-shenanigans have been proceeding, for certain.
"I would suggest that at least until we can figure out exactly what's happening with Leah, negating her would be a good start? At least give her a little breathing room while we work at determining why the hell she's been detecting temporal distortions for the past three months," Elisabeth offers quietly. "I would like very much to get her out of sight of… certain parts of the government because of highly classified things happening that I'm concerned they'll want to use her ability for. At least for a little while. She's a kid. She doesn't need that shit."
“Look,” Cedric says with an adamant gesture to the air, “telling a guy in the 1800s that it’s possible to walk on the moon, and showing him a clip of the fucking moon landing are different things.” He has a million questions, but most of them will be directed upwards and outwards within his own circles. His priority is his daughter.
“We’re trying to find a non-chemical negator for Leah.” Cedric admits. “They don’t fucking grow on trees, it turns out. I’ve heard the UK has some surgical implants that aren’t chemical. Stuff in trials. But I don’t know if I trust their administration’s safety protocols anymore than ours.”
Cedric exhales a slow, exhausted sigh. “But you’re sitting here telling me my daughter is at risk from our own fucking government? Raymond Praeger’s office is barely cleared and you’re telling me the Harding administration is, what, compromised? Tell me that isn’t what you’re fucking saying. That this isn’t Mitchell all over again.”
"No, thank God," Elisabeth hastens to assure him. "At least not that I'm aware. And I am watching. But … there are departments within even this government that are tasked with dealing with time travel bullshit." She grimaces faintly. "People are always afraid of what they don't understand – and honestly, even time travelers don't understand time travel all that well. So… yeah, they're keeping it very much on the down-low that time travelers exist and they have a department to deal with all manner of… whoopses that might occur."
She drags a hand through her hair. "Given Leah's ability and the potential for abuse of it, of her, I would just err on the side of caution about who you make a lot of noise to," she finally settles on. "Sometimes people are too thrilled to realize an ability could help them to remember that there are people behind these abilities." A pause.
"The negation drugs, as much as I hate to say this to you, have been well tested. They're reasonably safe." Elisabeth grimaces slightly. She has plenty of firsthand experience, and way more secondhand. "But a physical negator to follow her around is definitely not going to happen. I've only heard of or met a couple of them. And please do not go the surgical implant route with her. At least… not right now." She shakes her head. "Again, highly classified there, but … let's just say there are things happening with that stuff that I absolutely would not recommend. For the short term, until she can learn to control it, the drugs may be her best option. I can't imagine how scared all of you have been."
“Whoopsies.” Is all Cedric can manage to say after all of that. Elisabeth Harrison called temporal accidents covered up by the federal government whoopsies.
Cedric looks ahead to the road, sliding his tongue across the front of his teeth. “We’re going to my office.” His jaw sets.
“There’s something you need to see there.”
Later
Main Interior Building
Formerly the Kansas City Power & Light Building
Washington KC
12:17 pm
The Main Interior Building is a far cry from the offices it once held in Washington D.C., and stands just six blocks west of the Department of the Exterior’s independent building. The new nation’s capitol has occupied an extravagant Art Deco skyscraper for much of the Presidential cabinet offices. The sturdy, concrete building is awash with marble floors, bronze Art Deco decor, and an elite finery that stands in stark contrast to the Grecian stylings of old DC.
The office of the Secretary of the Interior is located on the 12th floor, past prodigious security checkpoints and under constant surveillance in public spaces. Once inside Cedric’s office, which feels like the kind of space that would belong to a 1920’s commercial industrialist rather than an elected official, the tightness of security loosens.
The skyscrapers of the KC skyline blocks much of the view from Cedric’s corner office. Here, under dim lighting in matching Art Deco stylings, he makes a direct path to his desk. Though he does give Elisabeth a brief direction toward a cabinet by the window, set upon by decanters of alcohol and upturned glasses. If she wants. He does.
“Leah’s been… writing.” Cedric says as he unlocks and opens the top drawer of his desk. “When she has an episode it’s… painful. She bleeds. The doctor’s say it’s minor but they can’t find a cause beyond her ability. They’re blaming the episodes on panic attacks because she doesn’t understand what she has.”
He fishes around in the drawer for a spiral-bound notepad. “There isn’t much.” He tosses the pad across the desk to land in front of Elisabeth. On a single page, there’s a handful of scribbled words and phrases:
Something is wrong
Everything is changing and no one remembers
I feel like I’m daydreaming when I’m awake sometimes
Quentin Frady
“That last part.” Cedric says with a nod to the notepad. “She wrote that down after her worst episode, back in April. She says that man, Quentin Frady, is ‘gone.’ She says she remembered him, but… Elisabeth, I’ve looked. The fucking secret service has looked.”
Cedric exhales a slow sigh. “There was a Quentin Frady, but he died during the Civil War. We’ve got a death certificate, burial records. He has a sister we visited who confirmed it all, she lives up in New York, runs a gossip rag called the Siren. Leah’s never been to the Safe Zone, Elisabeth. And she sure as fuck didn’t know some random man who died when she was in diapers.” He clamps down on his anger, but it’s hard. He’s hopeful, too. Hopeful that Elisabeth can somehow make sense of this.
The silence between them doesn't bother Elisabeth. She's comfortable in the silence, mostly. When they finally reach his office, she meanders toward the windows at first, giving him the chance to pour a drink and shaking her head slightly when he offers it. The silence field she slides into place automatically around them won't keep electronics from picking up on them, if his office is being recorded, but it's an instinctive move on her part to keep what they say from reaching most bugs.
There is no such thing as paranoid. She is maybe, finally, just as paranoid as her Russian former lover.
Picking up the notebook, Elisabeth skims it with a faint frown. The first thing that came to mind about what could have been changing was actually that Ria/Juliette was doing stuff and that Leah was maybe picking up on that. "Everything's changing and no one remembers," she says softly. Certainly sounds like what happens around Ria at times, Sera before her, and who knows how many others. But… a person disappearing? "Time doesn't work like that," the blonde peacekeeper tells Cedric as she looks up with a perplexed expression. "Time travel certainly doesn't work like that. Going back in time and changing something does not change the time that you came from." Her unease is not hidden from him. "Did she say anything else after you looked into the guy? Like… who she thought he was before he wasn't here anymore?"
“No.” Cedric says in a hushed, frustrated tone of voice. Not at Leah, but at himself. “So, this isn’t some sort of… Back to the Future thing where my daughter’s holding a photograph of a vanishing headstone?” He tries to smile at his own levity, but it’s hard to in spite of such crushing revelations.
He looks at Leah’s journal, then rubs his hands across his face to try and shake off the sense that this is all some confusing nightmare. “Do you… know of a professional that could talk to her? A… I don’t know, a doctor or…” He’s lost on exactly what you’d call someone that could help her, given that he barely understands her predicament. “I don’t want to put her under anymore stress, but… But this is a lot, Harrison. It’s a lot.”
"It's not supposed to work that way, no," she replies, rather more solemnly than perhaps she meant to. It's bothering her, what Cedric is reporting. It's not usual. Tipping her head, Elisabeth offers quietly, "I … may know a couple of someones who might have some experience that could help Leah. Not precisely like hers, but… they have time-related abilities, certainly. Hell, a telepath might even be helpful. Honestly, the only thing I can offer about her ability itself is to get her in with a SLC-E counselor trained to deal with power eruptions – there are some good ones. If she's getting nosebleeds or ear-bleeds from the way that her power is reacting to whatever is going on, it usually means that what she's sensing is … big. That she's expending power trying to control it instinctively, because her brain wants to protect itself, and she can't. She needs a trainer."
Blue eyes drop back to that sheet in the notebook. Drawing her phone from her pocket, Elisabeth sends a brief text out to Wright. Innocuous. Can you ask Elliot if he knows a guy called Quentin Frady or if any of the others do?
She pauses another moment and sighs, looking up at him. "Cedric, all of my contacts and support structures are in the Safe Zone. I don't have that here in KC to even offer names that I trust for her. There's someone here who might be able to help her surf the temporal waves. I'd trust her with my own daughter. I'm afraid of drawing too much attention to Leah, though, to be honest. My advice is only worth whatever weight you give it… and I'm not going to lie to you here. I have my own agenda in this – Richard sent me here to make sure you and your family are safe. In that future, she worked for him. She was one of ours. And we take care of our own."
The phrase one of ours worried Cedric on a bone-deep level. The protective, paternal side of him squares his shoulders and has him setting the carafe of brandy down faster than he’d like. He says nothing, drinking from his glass until its empty.
“I need time to think.” Cedric says against the brandy’s bite on his tongue. “You’ve… given me a lot to think about.” Ever the politician, though, Cedric steadies himself. His fluttering heart tells Elisabeth he’s still in panic mode though. But, given the givens, who wouldn’t be?
“I’ll get a car service for you before you reach the lobby. And—I’ll figure out the tab from earlier.” Cedric says with a glance out the window. “I have some calls to make.” Is Cedric’s clear end to this conversation.
She studies him for a long moment and then nods slightly. "Whatever you decide for your daughter, trust your gut." Elisabeth smiles a little. "In the end, mine's kept me alive more often than I'd rather admit. And I'd do anything for my kids too. You know how to get in touch – if I can be of help or you just want to pick my brain, please feel free to reach out. I'll be hoping that something helps her."
And hoping that she didn't just doom the poor kid to getting grabbed for her abilities by the likes of Marcus Raith and his handlers.
Cedric waits for Elisabeth to leave his office, longer for the sound of her footfalls to quiet down the end of the hall. Then he texts someone on his phone, arranging for the car service he’d promised. Then he moves to the window, watching outside. He waits for several minutes until a car pulls up and Elisabeth gets inside before placing a call.
It rings for longer than Cedric would have wanted, but in the end, someone does pick up on the other end. Cedric closes his eyes, taking a deep breath.
«Secretary Hesser, I didn’t expect to hear from you again.»
“I want to know.” Cedric struggles to say into the receiver. The person on the other end lets the request hang in the air for a long while.
“You said I had time to think about it.”
Elsewhere
Claire de Lune plays softly over a record player. Rain gently patters on the nearby windows overlooking the New York City Safe Zone from somewhere in its easternmost reaches. An anachronistic, black corded telephone sits on a vintage writing desk, its coiled cord bouncing up and down from movement of the receiver.
“I did.” A voice gentle in its I told you so’s manages to muster. “And I will. The question is, Secretary Hesser, can you fulfill your end of the bargain?”
Silence lingers in the air like cigarette smoke.
«I will. Now, tell me what my father was doing. What does it have to do with my daughter?»
Painted red lips creep into a slow, satisfied smile. Cedric was a good man, and good men always do what they’re told. When it matters, anyway.
“I’ll send a representative to meet with you, sign papers, make disclosures.” The woman on the phone takes a slow drag off of a cigarette, but doesn’t finish it before she snuffs it out in the ash tray balancing on the arm of her chair. She’s trying to quit.
«When?»
He’s eager. Something must have happened. “Very soon, Mr. Secretary. But if there’s anything I need you to understand about me…”
“…it’s that I do everything on my own time.”