Participants:
| Scene Title | Being John |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | John Doe comes to speak to Edward about his past, and Edward Ray hands him a piece of the future that has yet to come. |
| Date | May 28, 2009 |
Textile Factory 17, Library Tower
"Edward." The familiar voice causes Edward Ray to look up from a newspaper, diverting his eyes from headlines that read Fires burn uncontrolled in Midtown. There, in the doorway to the library of Textile Factory 17, stands the broad-shouldered frame of the man he has ironically come to name as John Doe. Edward stares for a moment at John, then folds the newspaper and lays it out on the table, folding his hands atop it as he reclines back in his chair, a silent invitation.
John manages a hesitant smile, leaning away from the door frame as he slowly walks in past the few remaining strings that line the room. A month ago this room looked like a tangled mess of a Cat's cradle, now only eight string remain, all interconnected to one another, pinned across the room on furniture and exposed supports in the wall. "I ah…" his brows crease together, eyes sweeping the strings now cast down to the floor, then back up to Edward. "I— was wondering if— " he grimaces, "you probably already know why I'm here, don't you?"
"My ability doesn't work like that, John." The last word Edward says causes John to bristle, that name. He tenses, visibly, wondering if Edward's ability works like that, knowing the reaction saying that would give him. It always has been a mystery exactly how he knows what it is he knows. Running a tongue over his lips, Tyler moves over to the table Edward is seated at, and comes to sit down partially on the tabletop, hands folding in his lap as he stares down at them.
"I ah…" Train of thought derailed, John furrows his brows and looks up to Edward. "Why— do you still call me John? My— you— we know my name's Tyler." The question comes with a bit of a pleading tone, and Edward raises one brow slowly, exhaling a sigh as he rests his elbows on the tabletop and his chin on his hands.
There's a moment of silence before Edward answers John's question, one just prolonged enough to seem intentionally awkward. "I call you John, because you're not Tyler Case." Blue eyes peer up intently to where John sits on the table across from him. "You're your own man, and you're not bound to the life and the past that he had. I brought you here, John, with the intention of allowing you to start a new life, not scrape for the scraps of an old one. Trust me, John, you don't want that life."
There's a telling note in that sentence, and John latches on to it. "How do you know I don't want that life? How— how much do you know about— " swallowing tensely, John leans forward subtly, his figers winding against his palms in a tense gesture. "Exactly how much do you know about who I am?" Edward raises both of his brows and looks away, breathing out a sigh as he reclines back into his chair in the same motion that Tyler leans forward.
"I read your file," he doesn't look up yet, "in Moab, John." Those large blue eyes meet John's. "Your life was a horrible one, terrible. I'm offering you a new start, I thought you'd be thankful for my getting you out of that prison, for giving you the tools with which to build yourself a new life." Johon bristles, jaw tensing, brows furrowing. It's the first time he's truly felt angry since being freed from Moab.
"You— you haven't given me anything! All you've had me do— everything I've done has hurt people!" Finally, finally the mouse of the time-spanned escapees raises as he slams a hand down on the table to punctuate his words. "All I've done since coming back is hide here at the factory, all I've done is do exactly what you say, and turn poor people's lives inside out! That girl— that— she— " Abby's face blurs in his mind, the look on his face when he robbed her power from her. Tyler's eyes flare with red irises as he slides off of the table, temper flaring.
Edward tenses in expectation of something, given only a moment to try and change a pattern he sees forming. "Tyler all I've done is try to help make a better future for us all!" Edward's voice finally raises as well, and his tone changes, taking on this warbling tone of panic as he pushes up from his seat and moves a few steps around the table, keeping it between he and John. "I'm trying to stop Arthur from using you in his experiments like he did in the future."
"What?" Edward and John's eyes match for a few long, heavy moments. Edward swallows, visibly, his adam's apple bobbing up and down as he presses his back against a wheeled chalkboard. "When did— " Edward calms as a carefully timed revelation knocks John off of his emotional downward spiral and back to an off-kilter semblance of half-balance.
Swallowing again, Edward breathes out a mild sigh of relief, leaning away from the chalkboard. "It happened in 2010. According to your file, Arthur had you transferred as part of an arrangement with the united States Govermnet, moved to Moab for genetic experimentation because of your unique ability." Edward's brows furrow, and he begins to walk slowly towards John. "I thought you knew I— it figures that your memory wold be," a hand motions towards his head, "John. All I want to do is help you."
"Exactly what are you getting out of all of this?" Distrust still brims on John's face as he leers at Edward. "You— Allen told me you tried to kill your— you tried to kill you." John's head shakes in disbelief, on ehand moving up to hold at the side f his own head as his irises fade from the bright red. "Why owuld you do that?"
Edward's answer is simple. "Because I'm a dangerous man in the wrong hands, John." Moving around the table, Edward hesitates as his hand brushes across the worn, wooden surface. "If I gave you an address, John, to a place nearby where I could promise you'd be able to get some of the answers you're seeking," patterns form and fit together for Edward, things starting to come together behind his eyes, shapes and suggestions of events yet to come piecing themselves into a semblance of order, "but I told you that you'd only have a day to do it in… would you?"
Suddenly presented with an option akin to plucking the fruit of knowledge from a forbidden tree, John freezes in place, watching Edward with wide eyes. "I— " he swallows dryly, staring at the much shorter man with a blank expression. "Where?" John's thirst for understandingof who he is, who who he is suposed to be is exactly the leash Edward has always knew it would be.
Edward is already writing on a scrap of paper by the time John has answered, folding it closed and holding it out across the table. As John reaches for it, Edward pulls it away slightly, his eyes meeting John's. "There's no turning back, once you start down this road, John." The gravity of his words is perhaps loist as John hungrily snatches the paper from between Edward's fingers, and the doctor forces a hesitant smile before backing away slowly from the table, and in that moment, a brilliant flash of bright yellow and orange flame comes exploding into view in the windows viewing Manhattan across the river. John jumps to one side at the flash, while Edward remains perfectly still.
Wide eyes stare in disbelief out the window, then look to Edward who is just smiling faintly. "Go on, John." A dismissive motion is given to the man as Edward reaches for an umbrella near the table. Confusion rings over John's face as he unfolds the paper in his hands, looking down at the address, then back up to Edward with wide eyes.
"Where— " He jerks his vision shakily towards the ball of fire out the window, the fire rising up over Manhattan, "What— what was that?" Edward just begins moving towards the door to the library, "Edward! Where are you going?" That causes the short man to pause, one hand using the umbrella like a cane. His brows furrow, and Edward turns to look over his shoulder, head canted to one side.
"I'm going to see Allen."