Participants:
| Scene Title | Blasts From The Past… Part Three |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | In which Arthur Petrelli gives a briefing. |
| Date | April 15, 2019 |
Pinehearst Tower, Arthur Petrelli's office
A spartan and yet at the same time elegant suite. Simple matte black framed furniture with tan cushions decorates the otherwise thinly furnished office. A glass-topped desk with black metal legs coiled together in stylish helix designs rests by the window, a high-backed black leather chair resting behind it. Most notable in the office is the six foot tall glass divider, a three-quarters high wall with a black rubber base with what looks like speakers in it. A faintly luminscent logo for the Pinehearst Corporation seems to float suspended in the glass, made from little more than blue and green shades of light in a double-helix, slowly rotating.
Pinehearst Tower is a gleaming edifice in representation of everything this future stands for. A smooth cylindrical skyscraper made from green-hued plates of glass, resembling a piece of artwork more so than an office building. Constructed on the northern side of Central Park, the Pinehearst Tower is an enormous monument to the sacrifices that this future was forged from. It is here, ultimately, where Helena Dean and Catherine Chesterfield find themselves requested.
The room they wait in is none other than Arthur Petrelli's office, a spartan and yet at the same time elegant suite. Simple matte black framed furniture with tan cushions decorates the otherwise thinly furnished office. A glass-topped desk with black metal legs coiled together in stylish helix designs rests by the window, a high-backed black leather chair resting behind it. Most notable in the office is the six foot tall glass divider, a three-quarters high wall with a black rubber base with what looks like speakers in it. A faintly luminscent logo for the Pinehearst Corporation seems to float suspended in the glass, made from little more than blue and green shades of light in a double-helix, slowly rotating.
Having been shown up to the office by Pinehearst staff, Helena and Cat wait in the awkward silence broken only by the ticking of an old, analogue clock on the wall, showing the hour as half past noon. It's been close to ten minutes since they came to sit down in the office, since Peter arranged to have them come here.
Why the delay now?
She's calm, seated there in one of her best Brooks Brothers business suits; skirt, heels, jacket, the colors charcoal grey with white blouse. Her hair is pinned up to not fall past the bottom of her collar when standing. Cat has no briefcase, however; one of her ability rarely needs such trappings and it's expected Arthur will have his own note-taking materials if he desires, not to mention recording devices. The only thing with her is a purse which complements the clothing.
She's not unaccustomed to waiting in such places from time to time. Mr. Petrelli does have a good deal of business, and to have altered his schedule likely caused complications.
Helena sits next to Cat. The luxury of having a wonderfully rich friend is that you can get things like a tailored women's business suit on ridiculously short notice. Where once was the harsh polyester of a prison jumpsuit was pressed against her skin, now rides the crisp, dark linen of Ralph Lauren's business best. The sunglasses are top dollar, too, a necessary insistence while they were travelling. Helena took them off once inside Arthur's office, and she curls her fingers them nervously.
" — talk about that later." The voice that follows the abruptly opening office door is a rich one, laden with the wear of age and the depth of a grandfatherly figure. Looking to easily be no older than his sixties, which is a considerably young age given how old Peter is, comes a tall and broad-shouldered man in a suit matching Cat's choice shade of charcoal gray. His hair, swept to one side and dark at the temples — where the rest is a salt and pepper affair — gives him an additional air of professionalism. Perhaps despite himself, the gold of a wedding band rests heavy on one finger.
As Arthur Petrelli strides into the room, that admoninishing tone was clearly being given to Peter, who makes his way in behind his father. Much in the way he shadows the older man, Peter's style of dress is likewise. An ink black suit and undershirt with no tie, making him look mostly in silhouette wherever he goes. When Arthur comes into the room, he quickly makes his way around the glass wall, looking down to the couch. First his eyes settle on Cat, but they quickly sweep to Helena with an expression of absolute disbelief in his eyes. Perhaps the look of shock is feigned, perhaps it's part of the grandfatherly act, but te words that roll from Arthur's lips seem so genuine. "My God, Helena," his dark brows press together, creasing his weathered brow. "Hearing is one thing, but seeing— " his arms outstretch, as if to offer something as intimate as a hug, but then he relents, wincing inwardly before raising his hands in a plaintive gesture.
"I— I'm sorry." Turning his focus to Peter's silent form for a moment, Arthur seems to share something unspoken when his son meets hsi eyes. But soon enough his gaze is back on Helena and Cat, "Catherine, it's a pleasure to see you as always. You look ravishing." He makes a few steps forward, offering a hand out to the dark-haired woman, flitting a look to Helena that seems almost stunned.
Peter, to his worth, merely looms at the edge of the glass wall, arms folded and head downturned, as if studying the polish of his shoes.
She stands when the two of them enter, showing Arthur a gentle smile at his compliment. "Thank you, Dr. Petrelli," she replies smoothly. It seems the quirk she has of calling herself Doctor because that was the degree program in law school, it's what her diploma says, isn't just for Cat. It's applied to anyone she knows has a law degree.
The hand she takes his with, intending to shake once and release, is the same as it's been. Warm, soft, smooth, but with callused fingertips which testify to her enjoyment of guitar.
Helena rises at the approach of the two men - is unable to keep from looking at Peter before she too has to look away - Arthur's wedding band may be heavy to him, but it's the first and foremost accent of Peter's wardrobe as far as she's concerned. She offers Arthur a faint smile and says in a carefully modulated voice, "I'm sorry, Mr. Petrelli." She darts a look at Cat, did she just good? Her eyes turn back to the elder man. "For me, this is the first time we've ever met, though I've been told that you were very kind to me. The me that was before." Before she died. Helena smiles faintly, "I see where Peter got his good looks." she says, trying to make light. It falls flat.
Arthur's smile does much of the same, though the silent — if not fatherly adminonishing look he gives Cat — is a familiar one. "Please, just Arthur. We've known each other long enough," but his eyes fix back on Helena almost immediately, letting go of the half-hearted handshake with Cat as he makes his way over to Helena. Arthur's breathing is slow, and he reaches out, as if to touch Helena and make sure she's really there, but hesitates from it.
"I'm sorry if I seem a bit… abrasive, this— whole situation has taken me by as much surprise as I imagine you're feeling right now." Somehow, the smile Arthur gives Helena seems just a touch more genuine now. "Peter's told me some of what you've been through," there's a tension in his voice at that, "but I was hoping that maybe, I could hear it from you personally." Straightening himself, as if in some attempt not to submit to the hunch of age, Arthur slides his hands into the pockets of his slacks and begins making his way to his desk.
Peter, watching the exchange quietly, exhales a sigh and follows his father to stand beside him at his desk. "I heard you arrived in Utah. I'm— admittedly a little curious as to how you and the other…" he searches for a figure, "the other eight managed to get out here together without, well, anyone noticing?" One dark brow rises slowly, and Arthur comes to sit down at his desk with a slow creak of the old leather, hands folding atop the glass top. "Peter didn't have that information for me."
She doesn't seem to believe Helena goofed, it's long since understood to her most don't look at it the same way she does, and there is his insistence on being called Arthur. Cat faces the senior Petrelli. "Of course, Arthur. It is a shock. I've had experience with illusionists and false faces before. I'm sorry to say I got her to tell me things only she and I were likely to know when we met."
But from there she's silent, the experience isn't hers to report on.
"Seven." Helena corrects. "And me, which makes eight." She moves to one of the chairs across from Arthur, unable to resist studying the older man. This Helena may not have the gravitas of the Helena he knew, but the raw beginnings of it are there, perhaps. "How far back do you want me to go?" she asks. "The start of the raid, or after the time-shift?"
Peter looks thoughtful at that, about to speak until Arthur — perhaps intentionally — interjects over him. It's clear that there's a complexity in the two's relationship, and one in which Arthur obviously has the upper hand. "Start from… the first thing that seemed out of place to one. Someone or something that didn't seem to belong, maybe it was a face a few days back, maybe it was an event that seemed incorrect. Any odd senses of deja-vu," his questions seems specific, without directly stating any obvious intent. "As far back as you think could be helpful, because to us — the raid on Moab by Phoenix failed. I want to how how this one… was different, however far back you have to go."
Having nothing to contribute, the story being Helena's alone, Cat simply observes and records by virtue of her very presence. Everything heard is thought over as is her wont, but Cat remains silent unless spoken to. Her eyes move from one person to another as they speak, giving them her attention.
Helena considers a moment. "Previous to that, there was nothing out of place for Moab, not before the raid itself. It was failing. Peter had told me to go topside, and I came up the stairs, released Jessica, and she started to guide me out." Right after she killed five people. "As we got to the yard, I saw Cat, and some of the others…and then suddenly Hiro Nakamura was there. He put his hand on my shoulder and said we were getting out of there," Recollection stirs her memory into specifics. And then suddenly things just felt wrong…Nakamura felt it too, he looked surprised and then it was like - like a heat wave sort of, it just rippled around the entire prison and then things really just sort of went," Helena makes a vague twisty motion with her hands. "And suddenly I was outside the facility, facedown on the ground, and it was a different time of day. The prison was quiet, none of the destruction or chaos, and there were others, all around. And there was Tamara, with her plane."
"Tamara?" Arthur arches a brow and looks to Peter, who gives a quiet grumble in the back of his throat. Something is tucked away in Arthur's expression, a question for later, when he sees Peter look away defensively like he does. Giving a slow nod, Arthur folds his hands and leans forward, elbows pressed on the tabletop.
"My plane." Peter finally speaks up, "she— asked if she could borrow it, wouldn't tell me why. I've— I trusted her in the past. She's a public clairvoyant, works for the Nichols Detective Agency on Manhattan." Arthur nods his head slowly, putting pieces of something together in his mind as he does. "I— I had no idea she'd— "
"That's enough, Peter." Arthur waves one hand towards his son, obviously growing tired of his halting statements. When he looks back to Helena, much of that stern parenting is still present in his disappointed expression, but the upset emotion doesn't seem to be directed to Helena or Cat, or even Peter for that matter. "That tracks well with some information I've been given recently." It's only when Arthur moves his hand across the desktop that Helena sees — through the slight glare from her perspective — what he's doing. It's keys, a digital imprint of a keyboard inside of the glass, like a touchscreen built into his desk. Tapping a few button presses, he proceeds to move his finger across the desk like the pointer of a mouse. As Cat would have expected, the image on the glass wall behind them all changes to a high resolution image of the Moab Federal Penitentiary, creating a notable change in illumination in the room.
"Your situation has created what amounts to not only a crisis of National security, but a crisis that threatens the very stability of our world as a whole. It's— your presence here in our time, it complicates our world. Time travel, the idea of it, it's not something that's ever been explored, even in this age. Hiro Nakamura and my son were believed to be the only two with a capable enough control to move significant measures of time forward or backward." Arthur's eyes lift up to Peter at his side, then back down to Helena, "Neither of which are publicly known to any great degree."
"We have to go back." Helena is unafraid to be fierce in the face of the patriarch of the Petrellis. "We can't just…exist here, there has to be a way for us to go back. I haven't experienced the things that need to happen to me, some of those things are important to the work you're doing. The people who came with me also have rivers they need to follow." She leans back. "And it doesn't matter what we know," she adds, this time more to Peter than Arthur, "Because Dr. Ray was right - you can make some changes, but the course of the river will always flow as it naturally does. It doesn't matter what I know, the river will right itself. Some things are unavoidable."
Arthur looks surprised when Edward is mentioned, his dark brows rising quickly as he turns to look sharply to Peter, then back to Helena. Then, as if dawning understanding comes over him, he relaxes and leans back in his chair. Hands unfold, and Arthur presses a button on the touch surface of his desk, though nothing changes on the glass wall. "Helena," As Arthur speaks, Peter moves away from the desk, going to stand over by the wrap-around windows that overlook Central and Unity parks. "Catherine," Arthur's eyes move to Cat slowly, "I expect that if I asked the two o fyou to keep what was discussed in this room to those who discuss it in this room, you'd honor that request, yes?"
Helena looks over at Cat for a moment, and then back to Arthur. Stiffly, she nods - whatever it is, she's sure it's important. She's just hoping it won't compromise her with the others too badly.
"I will, Arthur," Cat replies in solemn sincerity. Her mind is at work, quickly. The way demeanors changed when Doctor Ray was mentioned, it has her concerned, though her poise remains. She won't let on.
Giving just a silent nod, Arthur's fingers brush over the touch surface of his desk, bringing up a bruised and battered mugshot of Doctor Edward Ray — sans his glasses. "Doctor Edward Ray is a psychopath," the words come out in the same simplicity that one might explain how the sky is blue, though perhaps without the same irony. "Mister Ray devoted much of his life to attempting to defame and undo absolutely everything I sought to achieve here. He made numerous attempts on my life, and it was discovered that he had connections to Humanis First, the organization that was responsible for your murder, Helena."
Peter's expression hardens, and he looks away, clearly having been involved in knowing this. "While he was not directly responsible for the assassination attempt, he sponsored and aided them — without their knowledge of his ability — in an attempt to circumvent my work being done here in this city. More than one time, he attempted to make public rather…" his eyes move to Peter, then to Helena and Cat, "unfortunate family secrets regarding the disaster in Midtown in 2006."
Straightening his posture, Arthur pushes himself up from his chair, moving around the desk and towards the screen. "Edward Ray was put into the Moab Federal Penitentiary in 2013, quietly. Knowing what he knew, and being as dangerous as he was, certain measures had to be taken to ensure that the secret of what Peter did… didn't get out to the public. He'd never be trusted, never have been allowed to live a normal life," Arthur turns back to Helena and Cat, "if they knew he couldn't control himself."
Peter looks away again, pacing across the office. Arthur, however, is far from done. "Edward Ray is one of eight prisoners from the Moab Federal Penitentiary who are missing and presumed escaped during a prison-wide breakout that was attempted on April seventh." The same day everyone arrived, "would you like to see the security camera footage we retrieved from the penetentiary?"
Helena goes absolutely pale. "What? But he - helped us…" she trails off. But then, "Yes, please." No need to go into more than that, as far as she's concerned. Her gaze travels to Peter once more, then back to Arthur. "Please." she says again, this time more firmly.
It's a rather different picture than she had of the man, though she had known from the interrogation of Carmichael so long ago that Doctor Ray had tried to assassinate Nathan Petrelli and been caught, locked up not at Moab but by the Company. She has to presume when Primatech went down he was released and undertook those activities.
But as to the secret of the explosion, she's been keeping that for a very long time. Continuing to do so is nothing to her. The truth is, also, she believes Gabriel Gray ultimately responsible. It was his murdering ways that led to the event, the need to stop that behavior.
"Yes," she replies.
Walking over to the glass wall, Arthur runs two fingers over it, then taps on a few icons, bringing up color surveilence footage from a camera positioned high on the mezzanine overlooking Green Level. It's a vantage point Helena recognizes well, where the majority of the guards would watch prisoners come and go from their morning and afternoon yard time. But instead, the prison looks in disarray — ceiling tiles hang open, exposed power cabling dangles from where flurescent lights have been smashed. Standing in the middle of that field of view, Doctor Edward Ray waits with his arms folded.
Slowly, people start to approach, first a woman with long, dark hair surrounded by what clearly is some bubble of energy. Then a bald, overweight man that barely fits into his orange jumpsuit, a moment later Tyler Case walks up, clutching what looks like a hard-drive from a network server in both hands. Following the group, comes the metallic form of Allen Rickham a man that Cat is well aware lost his mind over the course of the last few years, going on a berserk rampage through Washington State and Oregon before finally being stopped by FRONTLINE. Volumes of books have been written about his mental instability resulting from his forced stepping down, all a part of the conspiracy that Arthur helped unravel. Supposedly, though, Allen Rickham was — to this day — receiving specialized care in a mental health facility in California.
But if all of that wasn't a surprise, the grizzled and bearded form of Nathan Petrelli emerging next seals the deal. Peter turns away from the screen, one hand rubbing over his forehead. He's seen the footage, he knows the width and length of what happens next. "Regretably, the sound on this footage was knocked out by an explosion inside of the facility during the breakout." Arthur continues to watch, until a ripple and a flash appears not far from where Edward stands. A man, clearly a young Hiro Nakamura, stands clutching his Kensei sword, one hand outstretched in the exact same motion Helena last saw him in. Immediately, the group goes to work, with Tyler Grabbing a hold of Hiro, followed by a crackling pulse of red lightning over him, then the bald man raises a hand, and Hiro turns rigid. Lastly, Nathan steps forward, offered a zap of red energy from Tyler, before the entire group disappears in one rush of teleportation.
Arthur stops the video there, pausing it on the still frame of the empty Mezzanine. "The United States Government has had specialized precognitives looking for these individuals for the last several days, and no single lead has come up as of yet." Arthur turns to look to Helena, then Cat, ignoring Peter's quiet stare out the windows towards the parks beyond. "I have on idea where, or potentially when they went."
"Is that Allen Rickham?" Helena breathes, leaning forward to watch the footage, and then there's Nathan - Helena is unable to help looking over at Peter and aching a bit for the paint that's causing him, turning back just in time to see what they're doing to Hiro. "What are…how did they…" Her eyes go wide as she witnesses the…transference? Of power, and leans back. She then looks to Arthur, frowning in thought. "Symmetry would suggest they swapped places with us."
It's all familiar to her, striking chords of memory. Allen Rickham and what he became. The painting with the mirror image of Moab. Tyler Case, who she tried to help keep out of Company hands, the man who somehow passed ability from Brian to his partner, the duplicate Veronicas then melting. Cat scans her memory for any record she's come across of him committing a crime to get him locked up there. At the time she first learned of him, he'd done nothing wrong. He was locked up for daring to defend himself. That, however, she won't raise right now. Rickham holds the majority of her focus.
"We worked with Doctor Ray, once. If he's gone to 2009, he'll probably look for me and I might not see anything out of place. Allen Rickham, much the same, though his star was tarnished by seeming to throw in the towel after we bailed him out."
All of the faces, all of the names, it just comes as too much too fast, and Peter brings one hand down from his forehead to motion towards Arthur, interjecting something else. "Reports we got from the prison say there's a man missing from the angle of that shot too, a prisoner named Niles Wight who possesses an ability called electromagnetic replica— "
"Peter." Arthur looks over his shoulder to his son, making a waving gesture towards the sofa, "you can have a seat." Patronizing his son with a smile, Arthur's focus shifts from him to Helena and Cat. "I have a belief," Arthur brushes a hand over the screen, shutting off the video entirely, "that Mister Ray and his accomplices may have traveled back to 2009 using Mister Nakamura, in order to somehow circumvent the events of this time that… made them so imprisoned." Arthur's focus slips to Peter for only a moment, before looking back to Helena and Cat.
"Which means the timeline as it stands today, is in danger of being irreperably damaged from the events that they could cause. It's the major problem with people from outside of time traveling back to a place they have no business in," he looks to Peter, "what was it that Nakamura called it?"
Halfway to the sofa, Peter pauses in his steps, one hand resting on the arm of the couch as he looks back up to his father, "A rift."
"A rift." Arthur echoes, looking back to Helena and Cat, "Your presence here in this time is something of insurance to us, while you're here, there's nothing that Edward can do to you to change what you become in our time. Because, let me be frank Helena, you became the face of a movement." His eyes fall on Peter, ever so briefly, before looking to Helena again, "You're just as important to the way this world shaped up, as my son and I are."
"The problem is in the subjectiveness of the timestream." Helena says quietly. She tries not to think too much about her importance in the timeline. It was admittedly appealing to her ego for the first day or so, but it rapidly grew more serious, less gratifying, and more something she's resigned to, given the cost.
"It hasn't happened to me yet, which for me, means it needs to happen. Keeping us here indefinitely can't be good, and I don't know about the others, but frankly…" she turns her head away as if unable to look at Arthur when she makes her confession, except her flow of words falters. She's silent for a long moment as she stares at…a picture on one of Arthur's shelves. She stares hard, and then brings her gaze back to Arthur. "I don't want to stay here."
"She's had a taste, Arthur," Cat supplies in a solemn voice as her eyes move around among the three others present. "She's had access to what for us is historical data and can have more as she desires. It occurred to me what dangers existed by their presence here, the things that could be changed. It quickly became impossible to prevent Miss Bishop learning things she should never see coming, so I undertook to speak with her. To convince her any attempt to change things if she goes back would be futile; her best chance would be in helping to make them happen. To gather information on Primatech and make it public anonymously."
"But I realize she may not do the right thing, so I've thought to start pulling together insurance. Compiling data to be sent back with others that can then be released so even if she compromises Mr. Goodman and prevents his television appearance it changes nothing because the word still gets out."
"The first stroke is the exposure of Primatech."
"We all have to make a certain number of sacrifices, Helena." Arthur tries to gloss over her concerns with a certain amount of diplomacy, "Getting you back, though, even if we wanted to might not be as easy as you think. Hiro Nakamura has…" his eyes turn to Peter in silent conversation, "well let's just say that Hiro isn't a team player, and he might not be available. The proper statisticians needed to calculate exactly where you'll need to go, that'll take time to arrange, and we'll have to perform a few tests before we just… well, willy-nilly go sending you through time and space."
Folding his hands in front of himself, Arthur looks at Helena with a marked level of confusion, as if staring at a strange, unfamiliar animal. "You might want to at least consider the possibility that you could be here for a long while, I wouldn't go buying a house," he cracks a smile, fake as it is, "and I most certainly wouldn't go public with exactly who and what you are just yet, but I might unpack."
"We— " Peter clears his throat, reaching out to ghost a hand near Helena's shoulder, only to withdraw it a moment later. "I'm sorry— about— this can't have been easy on you." Furrowing his brow, something seems to dawn on Peter, but he keeps whatever revelation it is quiet. "If there's anything we can do, to make you comfortable while your here, or…" trailing off, Peter gives a plaintive look to Arthur, who in return seems to relax some from the tension that rides him, it seems to have taken all of that composure to formulate an answer for Cat.
"Elle Bishop…" He looks at Peter again, furtively, "we'll have a talk with her, Peter and I. There's some things we know that might be able to better convince her to behave, should she be allowed to go home. Though there is the entirely real possibility that Miss Bishop might remain here if and when the misplaced people are allowed home. She is, after all, a criminal — already tried and judged — and it might be detremental to allow her to return home, you see."
"I really don't care about what happens to Elle Bishop so long as she doesn't muck up the timeline." Helena says, and looks at Arthur, for the first time a faint bitterness in her expression. She doesn't feel or sense the hand near her shoulder, doesn't even come close. "A certain number of sacrifices." Again her eyes slide to the side, to a shelf - to a picture. Peter, Gillian, a beautiful little boy. "Dying wasn't enough?" she asks, though the question is rhetorical. She returns her gaze to Arthur. "It may not matter." she says. "If they do alter the timeline, we probably won't even realize it. Maybe the world will change without anyone noticing. Regardless, I'm not staying in this time a minute longer than I have to."
Helena adds, "Cat has a plan for me to not have to hide like a hermit."
"A person who doesn't go back can't reveal anything she shouldn't, true enough," Cat agrees. She further turns the matter of Elle Bishop over to the Petrellis by stating "She's a guest of Abigail Beauchamp, and is being shadowed by Norton Trask for purposes of safety."
There's silence then, as her eyes move. She tracks what Helena has her attention on, a glimmer of sympathy and pain felt for the other female in the room showing on her features. How that must feel, the seeming of it having been just days instead of the ten years she knows.
But then her attention goes back to the men. "I'm starting to work on a biopic of Helena Dean's life," she explains, "and I've found the perfect actress. She's a shapeshifter or illusionist also, who has chosen to take on the appearance of her subject so she can have a better grasp on her life and feel what it's like to be Helena Dean."
Arthur gets an uncomfortable look on his face, then breathes out a slow sigh, "That might work for the time being, until more media scrutiny is put on her. Just be careful about who you explain your little ruse to, because if one person who can sense lies or emotions gets in that line of fire, it could throw everything you're working towards out the window." Turning to Peter, Arthur makes a slow motion with one hand, "Peter, I think you had something else to add?" It's a knowing statement.
"Ah— " But it's one that catches Peter off guard, regardless. "Yeah I— " he clears his throat again, looking down towards where Helena sits. "If you want, if all of the people you came here with want," he speaks more of Django and the others, more so than Cat, "We can put you all up here in Pinehearst Tower. It could keep you close to our resources in case we find a way to send you back home, and at the same time it'll give you a modicum of security that you don't quite get the same level of anywhere else. I— " he grimaces slightly, "don't want anything to happen to you while you're here." He's lost her once already.
Besides, his voice echoes in Helena's head, we should talk, later.
"I'd be remiss in my duty as a father if I didn't at last offer to put you up, Helena. For as much as we don't have in connection to one another, I still think of you as the daughter I never had." He's moved to settle back down at his desk by now, hands folded on the glass surface. "Catherine's much the same way, given how closely her father and I worked over the years. So I think," he motions towards Helena, "it's the least I could do for you. I have to admit, I never thought we'd get the chance to see each other eye to eye again."
There's no doubt Helena heard Peter's voice in her mind, but she does not reply, telepathically or vocally. She smiles faintly at Arthur. "I'm grateful for the offer." she says, "But Cat's been doing a bangup job of keeping me and Django safe, and to be honest, staying here in the tower just sort of sounds like I'd be trading what freedom just managed to get back for security. I just escaped one cage and I'm not ready to go to another, even if the furniture and food are better. I'll extend the offer to the others if you like though, and see what they say."
She listens intently to Arthur's advice, nodding at the bits regarding sensing falseness and emotions. Cat knows such pitfalls exist, true enough. "I've considered using the same cover story for others. Friends and fellow prisoners from Moab to be cast, serious actors undertaking the same methods for their craft."
And she turns toward the blonde, nodding once. "I was surprised, years ago, when I learned what Father was involved with. He and I had kept secrets from each other, of our abilities. That we knew what each other had for unusual gifts." Nothing is said of him having died the previous year, there's just the trace of sadness which comes to her face then, and the way she speaks of him being so different than Helena would likely remember her speaking of her parents.
A quiet smile is shown for Helena, lastly, on her choosing to remain in the Village.
"Very well then, but I'm going to assign a few members from my security detail just to keep an eye on the building," Arthur mentions absently, reaching for one of the flush buttons on his desk. His tone changes when his finger depresses the button, brows lowered, "Deborah, could you see if Polanski and Walsh are available to meet me later?"
«Of course, Sir.» Comes the warbling reply from a speaker somewhere near his desk. Arthur lifts his finger off of the button, and looks back to Helena and Cat with his brows raised, clearly making that one point rather non-negotiable. Peter, at the lack of response from Helena, withdraws again from the conversation, arms folded and head down, a tired look on his face as he turns his back on the young woman, focusing out of the plate glass windows to the view of Unity Park in the distance.
"Is there anything else, then…" Arthur tries to sound amenable, despite his earlier firmness, "questions you might have, anything I might be able to help you with, Miss Dean?" And while he doesn't outwardly say it, the offer seems to consistently stand to Cat that if she needs something, she can talk to Arthur about it.
"I'd like to know what we're going to do." Helena says plainly. "I appreciate what you're doing, understand you acknowledge that there's obviously a considerable problem, but I really don't think I want to sit on my ass while your people go about looking into the problem. I want to do something /useful/." She turns her head to answer Peter, her mouth starting to open, but then his back is turned. Wincing, she returns her gaze to Arthur. "I'm not someone who can just sit on her hands. But I think you knew that about me."
"Information," Cat states. "Shall I proceed with gathering data to release to the public in 2009 as insurance, seeing to it Primatech gets exposed, and along with it the Vanguard's operations and how they were stopped. Proof, as it were, every detail that made it stick."
She reflects for a stretch of moments before using words again. "Helena and the others will need cover when they return, also. They'll be escaped fugitives, possibly tracked by forces that would consider them armed and dangerous, acting accordingly. I think also I should write some things to warn myself regarding Edward Ray and his companions. Anything on them that might be useful, in fact. Returnees will likely need to face them and interfere with their actions."
She suggests to Helena "You can study more, know what should happen and when. I hate to say it, but what do you think might be happening if in 2009 the person I was got a visit from Edward? Until I hear from myself, I may not be trustworthy. It may also be helpful to tell my younger self to get over it and go lay it all on the line with my father."
"If you want to put together some things about Primatech, that's perfectly fine. Everything we have in our archives will be available to you, and we have most of the recordings of Primatech's upper echelon's trials as well." Arthur looks down to his hands, "Be mindful though, that according to you Doctor Ray did this very same thing once, sent himself back information from a future," and that does beg the question, whatever came of the future Edward Ray had sent that information from? "Only you would know how useful it was, or how dangerous it was." He considers that for a moment, "Well, you or Edward."
Turning to Helena, after a moment of consideration, there's a noticable change in Arthur's tone. "The best thing you can do right now, Helena, is stay out of the way." Spoken like an adult talking to a child, Arthur does his best to not come off as entirely dismissive, and largely fails. "We're going to have very talented people looking into what happened, and once we come up with a solution you'll be the first to know. For now, I think you should just relax, sit back, and maybe consider unwinding some. You might not be comfortable here, but right now there isn't much other choice."
While Arthur speaks, Peter tilts his head forward, hands folded behind his back and eyes closed. He's listening to the conversation, but at the same time he's not. There's something brewing in him, something Helena's seen before — and she can feel it outside, feel it in the air and on her skin, the way the weather shifts away from the wamrth of spring to something colder, something less welcoming. The storm inside of him, one he put aside a decade ago, is slowly coming back.
Helena gets the feeling that she's not the only person Arthur talks to like that. And maybe a year ago - maybe even before Moab - she would have lashed out, gotten in the older man's grill, told him how hell no, she wasn't going to just sit there and stay out of the way. She'll not leave her fate in other people's hands. Waiting for that in Moab was bad enough. Never again.
"I'm sure you can understand how difficult that might be for me, Arthur." Helena gives him her best 'daddy pleasing' smile, the smile she'd give her father to earn that pat on the head which would then turn into being blithely ignored. Only this time the important part is what comes after the fatherly pat. "But I'll do my best. I know you'll do everything you can." I trust you, her tone seems to say.
The sense of cold that emanates from Peter, in the very air outside the building, is something she can certainly sense. It's been one of their numerous and tenuous connections to each other, and Helena is unable to resist responding to it, a gentle sweep of a warmer front to push against his, not too quickly so as to create a thunder clap, but instead a buffer, almost protective. As she turns to look at Cat, should he look up, he'll catch her eyes, the silent agreement to the promised talk, there for an instant before she looks over at Cat. "I think we have all we need. And certainly all we can do." she says to the other woman calmly.
"We do," Cat confirms for Helena, "except some outdated computer equipment and software. A machine from ten years ago, and the USB flash drives to work in them as well as the version of Microsoft Office that was current in 2009. Otherwise what gets sent back will be too advanced for use then." If Cat feels the changes in ambience, she doesn't let on. Her attention shifts back to the senior Petrelli.
"Thank you for your generosity, Arthur. I'll be in and out making copies and reading over the time to come, between meetings. I'll keep my schedule up as best I can, so as not to raise public alarm by cancelling activities. One of the Senators is rumbling a bit about the scholarships and funding." Her speaking volume lowers a bit, she perhaps grumbles under her breath something about if he pisses her off she may just go out to take his job.
"Good, good. Now, I'm sorry to talk and run, but I have an important meeting to attend to," Arthur pushes up from his chair, moving around his desk to walk over to the sofa, "It… it's been good to see you again, Helena." His focus shifts to Cat, "and you as well, Catherine. If there's anything you need, just talk to Deborah outside, and she'll set everything up."
"Meeting?" Peter finally asks, looking up at Arthur's reflection in the window. Arthur turns to stare at Peter's back, clicking his tongue in a frustrated manner before sliding his hands into the pockets of his slacks.
"Someone has to wrap up that meeting in Madagascar, Peter, if you aren't going to." A sharp jab to the younger Petrelli's ego, and Arthur turns away from his son, before Peter can muster up any sort of response.
Peter's shoulders slouch, it's the only real change in his posture. Nothing is afforded to Arthur's words, only that look of sullen discontent on his face. In that moment, Arthur's body comes alight with a soft violet energy that crackles around his silhouette, before he vanishes entirely into motes of deep purple irridescence, the same color light Cat remembers hearing that Roger Goodman teleports around in.
After Arthur has disappeared from the room, Peter gives a quiet sigh, "Do you need me to walk you two out?"
Helena lifts a brow at Arthur's sudden disappearance. "You know," she murmurs, "I never met Nathan, and yet I totally see where he gets it from." Her expression is wry, and then she regards Peter a moment. When her mouth opens, it's obvious that she wants to say something pithy, but her expression seems to subtly adjust mid-thought, and she says simply, "Sure." She looks over at Cat, somewhat resigned, rising to her feet. "I think Django and I would like to go to Unity Park tomorrow, Cat. See the Memorial. I'll cover up, I promise."
"We can do that, Helena," Cat softly tells her, before turning toward Peter. "That would be grand," she offers with a slight smile. But at the same time she's thinking, and projecting a bit. Are you okay, Peter? her mental voice inquires. All of this, and how it is with the gift you got from me, all that time ago. I understand like few will. See me if you need an ear.
Rising to her feet, she waits for Peter to lead the way.
It's going to take a while, for me to ever be okay.
And that's all Cat gets, as Peter is quick to escort the two out of the building. Some things will only heal with time, others are wounds not even time can heal.
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