Blueprints For Beyond The Horizon


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Also Featuring:

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Scene Title Blueprints for Beyond the Horizon
Synopsis Simon Broome makes good on his promise to let Elisabeth Harrison see Eve Mas, and where the journey takes her is beyond belief.
Date November 22, 2010

The flight from JFK International airport to Logan International Airport is roughly a half an hour.

The drive from Logan out to Cambridge, Massachusetts courtesy of the Commonwealth Institute adds an additional half an hour onto travel time due to busy mid-day traffic through the congested heart of Boston. It is always a stark reminder of just how different the word is when you get away from New York City, starts to put things into perspective. Massachusetts is nothing like the police state of New York. No crumbling ruins on the skyline, no segregated communities of Evolved and Non-Evolved starting to form. It's a window back into the past, viewed as passing scenery through tinted glass in the back of a Lincoln town car.

The college campus of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology looks nothing like Columbia University in New York City, either. A college town bustling with activity, no chain-link and razorwire fences, no police tape blocking off the latest public tragedy. It's as if New York has become the event horizon for insanity in the United States. MIT is clean, unsullied, alive — and yet the Institute rests just below the surface. One would think that it would be worse, imagery of white vans patroling the streets, prison camps, trenches filled with bodies. It's nothing like that, not even remotely.

Things look peaceful.

Snow collects on the trim of the car window outside the glass by the time it turns off of one of the main roads cutting thorugh the MIT campus and into a walled off parking lot. The pause at a security checkpoint is brief, with the car's driver flashing a badge to security and not even a passing glance given to Elisabeth.

Out the front window of the car, she can finally see the heart of the Institute, a geometric shape unlike an ordinary building, as unusual as their own methodology seems to be. It is a is a stark representation of modern architecture, composed of several sharply angled complexes connected by a center "spine" of the building that rises up in a sweeping arc through the center of the facility. All of the Institute's exterior walls are iron-laced concrete plastered white.

The car makes no move to stop at the parking lot, however. Instead, it drives arond the building, affording Liz a brief look into the lobby through one glass wall before the car turns towards a ramp going beneath the building. Driving into what at first seems like an underground parking garage, Liz feels the car roll to a stop as the driver passes through another security checkpoint, passing off his ID again and briefly conversing with security.

When the car begins moving again, Liz can see that it is, indeed, an underground parking lot lined with numbered license plates in sequential order. After a few moments of driving, the car she is in passes inside of a narrow but brightly lit enclosure made of corrugated metal, like the interior of a white-painted shipping container. The driver's door opens and the man driving the car gets out, walking down to Elisabeth's door and opens it.

"Miss Harrison, you'll get a better view if you step out of the car." There's a light and friendly tone to the driver's voice, almost in spite of his blockish bodyguard build. Holding the door open, the darkly-dressed and leather-gloved driver offers Elisabeth a warm smile. "Trust me, it's well worth it."

The Commonwealth Institute

Cambridge, Massachusetts

1:19 PM

Outside of the car, Elisabeth can hear a loud clang and the sound of an electric motor whirring as doors shut behind the car, the bright fluorescent lighting of the enclosure shining down outside of the vehicle, invitingly.

Elisabeth makes teh journey mostly in silence. That she feels like hell is pretty evident in the way she coughs that deep, wet cough of nasty chest-cold-ness all the way through the trip. Her nose is red and she carries tissue in her pockets that she uses regularly. Even the hot cup of tea she picked up coming out of the airport to the car isn't easing things all that much. The falling snow does not make the blonde a happy camper. Nor does the fact that she's traveling to the Institute itself.

By the time the car stops, she has finished the hot tea. Her voice is still raspy as she steps out of the vehicle, though, blue eyes wary. "I'm sure," she replies drily.

When Elisabeth steps out of the car and onto the concrete floor of the enclosure, there's a sudden lurch of motion and a grinding clank of metal as the entire room wobbles as if she were on a boat tossed at sea. Mindful to ensure her safety, the driver gently lays a guiding hand on her shoulder to help keep her balance, then eases her away from the car as he shuts the door. "Keep your eyes this way," he motions to one wall, and on closer inspection there is a thick layer of glass between the corrugated metal wall and Elisabeth herself.

A moment later, the scuffs and scratches on the metal seem to be sliding upwards, as if something was being raised. But when Elizabeth feels the sensation of being in an elevator it becomes clear that the walls are not going up but the entire enclosure is going down at an angle. A moment later, the bottom of the wall passes by, opening up into a gradually expanding view of what can only be described as the exterior of a skyscraper, though on a smaller scale.

Lights shine out of windows, and Elisabeth can tell that the vehicle is being brought down inside of a glass-walled tank-like enclosure similar to a shark tank with metal doors. An escalator-style conveyor belt is lowering the vehicle downwards into a canverous underground chamber where layer-cake like tiers of a massive building descend down several floors into darkness.

Catwalks and scaffolding line the concrete walls of this underground shelter, along with gigantic metal coils that resemble springs attached to the ceiling of the chamber and all the way down to the floor, suspending the entire underground facility on a cushion of metal shock absorbers.

Sparks flash and flicker in the distance, against a far wall where construction workers on climbing equipment are installing power conduits onto the walls, welding metal piping in place. Vehicles all the way down some ten or maybe fifteen stories below shine headlights across a paved ground.

"This is the Commonwealth Arcology," Elisabeth's driver explains with a fond smile, motioning out to the building that the enclosure is descending parallel to. "First of its kind in the world, designed on the infrastructure of a bunker created in 1957 by the United States government to act as a continuity of government facility. It was later replaced by similar structures at Mount Cheyanne and Raven Rock." The driver looks askance to Liz, then back out to the glass window.

"She isn't finished yet," the driver explains of the vista, "but when it is, the arcology will be a prototype for self-sustained living enclosures that could help mitigate the strain of population growth around the world. It could house up to eight-thousand people by the time it's finished… Much less right now, of course."

She is impressed. Elisabeth can't hide that she's impressed. Just because she's skeptical of the purpose to which the place is being put doesn't mean she's petty enough to pretend to be blase. "Nice," she compliments quietly. If her response leaves something to be desired in enthusiasm, it could potentially be chalked up to the fact that she's sick as a dog or to the fact that she is uneasy about this meeting on these terms with only a simple failsafe to tell anyone where she went if she doesn't come home again or … well, it could just be unease about who she's going to see. Unless he's a telepath, he's unlikely to ever find out what exactly has her simply watching with an air of interest and some amount of awe.

"Simon's waiting for you on the residential level, which is where we're headed," the driver explains with a hint of that smile still remaining. "You're quite fortunate, miss Harrison, there's only a small group of people in the world who know about this location, most of which helped construct the facility or live here."

Panning down the entirety of the building,t he enclosure eventually disappears inside of a concrete wall, like a subway ducking into a new tunnel, cutting off view of the main structure. Lights pass by the glass wall, and slow their movement as the descent begins to come to an end. Eventually, what resembles a subway platform comes into view as the enclosure comes to a halt. The front doors swing open, divided down the middle, and then retract along the outside walls.

"This is your stop, ma'am." Motioning out the double doors ahead of the car, the driver points towards a series of short steps that goes up to the platform, upon which the darkly dressed form of Simon Broome awaits Elisabeth. However there is something distinctly different about Broome this time, seated in a wheelchair as he is, one hand resting on a small joystick coming up out of one of the chair's arms, his other hand laid across his lap.

"Miss Harrison!" Simon warmly calls down to Elisabeth in his worn old voice, "please, come up. We haven't made this entire place handicapped accessible yet." That much, at least, Simon can laugh at.

Lucky. Heh. Elisabeth wonders if he'd think she was so lucky if he knew that his boss was looking to put a bullet in her head. She keeps that bitter thought behind her teeth. Coughing into her elbow as they continue to descend, she mentally catalogs everything as they go. This place is a fucking fortress. Christ. She walks forward to meet the man waiting for her, keeping enough distance to not expose him to her germs.

"Mr. Broome," Elisabeth greets in a hoarse voice ragged with a bit of wheezing from her coughing fit. "I offered to meet somewhere other than here, but well… the lot of you are a touch on the paranoid side," she deadpans. Hey pot?

"It's best for the time being that Eve not be moved somewhere else," Simon explains as he watches Liz come up the steps and onto the landing at his side. "Ever since the riots struck, Eve's been… having trouble. She's very obviously upset over what happened, so it is a delicate time for her. While we did not want to move her, we do realize that seeing a familiar old friend might be a good thing for her right now." Simon's chair whirrs with its electric motor as he pivots, starting to roll ahead towards a lighted corridor past the rail platform.

"We have a bit of a journey ahead of us, up to where Eve's house is. But I figure while we navigate these old passages, we might be able to pass the time with a touch of conversation?" It's hard not to notice how much thinner this incarnation of Broome is, how skinny his crippled legs are, how feeble and helpless he looks. Though it's also strange, how much more alive his eyes seem, how much deeper that appear— almost if Elisabeth stared too long into them, they might swallow her whole.

"This arcology is the pride of the Institute, we designed it based off of plans for something known as the Soleri Arcology, designed by the famed architect Paolo Soleri. It is a vision of the future, Elisabeth, a self-sustaining habitat capable of growing its own food, purifying water, producing its own necessities of life and livlihood. Admittedly, this is a much smaller scale arcology than Soleri's design, I would say a tenth of the size of his design, but… it is a blueprint for the future."

Looking up from his wheelchair, Simon smiles fondly. "Was there anything you wanted to know, Elisabeth, while we have some time?"

She listens politely, walking along next to him with her hands jammed into her coat's pockets except to cough periodically. "There are a great many things I'd like to know, Mr. Broome," Elisabeth replies quietly. "But I'm reasonably sure that anything I ask at this point will earn me either lies or enough truth to make me feel stupid later for not realizing you were playing me." She tilts her head and looks at him. "And you are playing me," she asserts quietly. "Richard's always been one to only tell as much information as he can get away with in order to assure that people do things the way he thinks he needs them done. And since you've so busily followed his plans, I'd have to assume that he trusts you — which means you'll do the same." She smiles faintly, looking back ahead of them as they walk.

"That said… I'll indulge you by asking a couple of them. Why the hell would want to let the riots occur? Considering how long you've been doing this job and how much more you know about the next few years than we do — why would you not just go ahead and stop us from doing the things that would have led to the riots in the first place?" It's possible that she already knows the answer — she's not above asking those kind of questions.

A hurt look flashes briefly across Simon's face, his gray brows furrowing and weathered lips crooking into a frown. "I didn't expect you to be the type of person to come into a man's home, accuse him of lying while he has been nothing but forthright, and then make assumptions about something that aren't close to the truth." Brows pinching together, Simon offers a slow shake of his head.

"I have been nothing but honest with you, ever since you and I first met, Elisabeth. I have been forthright and open, I have no reason to hide the truth from you. I know you have your reasons, why you may not feel inclined to trust me… but I can only implore you to reconsider your stance, and consider the facts at hand rather than your assumptions."

Coming to a hakt out front of an elevator set into the concrete hallway's wall, Simon presses a button on the arm his his wheelchair, and the call light on the elevator's control panel illuminates, followed by the noise of the elevator's slow descent from above.

"Neither I nor Richard wanted the riots to happen, Elisabeth, not ever. But just because something is desired, does not mean that it can ever be attained. People die, Elisabeth, it's the natural order of things. Sometimes, bad things happen and there is no way to prevent them. Changing the future is not a part of what the Institute does…"

Swallowing tightly, Simon offers a slow shake of his head. "You see, if we stopped the riots from happening, there's no telling what else would have been waiting behind it. What kind of repercussions our actions could have afforded. Beyond that, our knowledge of what caused the riots was extremely limited. Without Richard to help guide us, our roadmap of the future was very, very limited. By the time we brought him back, there was no time to effectively plan a change without risking the stability of the future to come."

Frowning again, Simon glances over to the elevator doors as they slide open, gesturing for Elisabeth to go first. "But now that things have happened as they did, we know what will happen next. This, leaves us both forewarned, and forearmed to endure."

"Let me rephrase the question for you, Mr. Broome," Elisabeth clarifies. "The future that you and Cardinal have experience with is…. " She pauses, considering. "At least the third possibility that I know of. There are infinite ones. And yes… in many ways, the actions that we've all taken have made what the precogs see coming progressively worse. As Cardinal well knows, we wondered whether killing Arthur was the right thing to do. Because what came after has become infinitely worse — and to be quite blunt, the Institute appears to be at the center of a lot of the 'infinitely worse.'"

Stepping into the elevator, Elisabeth says quietly, "And you're right — you've been nothing but honest. Just as Cardinal has." He wanted her to live — that's all he ever wanted. But it doesn't mean he thinks it's the right thing, does it? "At least up until your last statement. Don't for an instant believe that the Institute doesn't change the future." She smiles faintly. "If the Institute weren't in the business of changing the future, you would have stopped the fall of the Company and allowed the world to play out the way it was supposed to originally." She shrugs a little, leaning back against the back wall of the elevator to cough. "Of course," she rasps when she's through, "that assumes that the future where Arthur Petrelli created something good was actually the 'correct' timeline — whatever the hell that means. Ultimately, I don't think there is a correct timeline. We're all in the business of attempting to create a better world — we just all have differing definitions of what that is."

"I believe you may not be as well-versed on sequences of events as Richard is," is a polite way for Broome to tell Elisabeth she has her facts backward. As he wheels himself into the elevator, the doors shut behind his chair. On the screen at ele-level to Elisabeth, the letter C appears, prompted by the touch of a button on Broome's wheelchair.

"The fall of the Company should have happened in 2009, Elisabeth. Arthur Petrelli should have created the Formula, forged a deal with the United States Government and created the FRONTLINE project as his own personal global army, stabilizing the balance of global power and ensuring Pinehearst's power and ability to influence the political arena. Nathan Petrelli should have been impeached and imprisoned and the Company should have been on the way to collapse no later than two-thousand and eleven."

One of Broome's brows rises slowly. "You participated in the event that prevented that future from happening. What the Institute did, was cut out the corrupt heart of the Company after it was allowed to survive. This, what happened over this summer, was exactly as Richard had forecast events happening to me in the mid nineteen sixties when he outlined the major epochs of the future he came from."

The elevator begins to move upward, and Simon narrows his eyes slightly. "There is no correct timeline, Elisabeth, but there is temptation to try and make the one we live in better through means man was not meant to endure. Do you realize the scale of damage Richard could have done in 1961? He could have murdered the Company founders when they were still but inexperienced children. He could have changed history with a sledgehammer… instead, he chose to preserve the world he remembered, with all its imperfections… because it was his world."

Simon's brows tense, worriedly. "Exactly how, then, do you feel that the Institute is at the heart of anything that could be considered, 'infinitely worse?'"

Elisabeth smiles faintly. "Indeed, I did. But … the Institute could have stopped the tampering at any time, Mr. Broome. You had those resources already at your disposal, did you not?" she asks quietly. "The very fact that he didn't do that is proof that at the very least you started out on the right path. As for the rest… well, as has already been pointed out… every change that has been allowed to take place has made things darker." She looks at Broome and says softly, "Certainly if you'd intended the timeline to remain as it should have been, then you'd have stopped Arthur Petrelli's death and let things go as they ought to have. But you didn't."

Elisabeth looks toward the ceiling of the elevator. "Which leads any good investigator to start looking at who benefits and how when the changes come. Think of it like … insider trading. You know what's coming and you choose to hold to the original timeline if it benefits you but when it doesn't — as in the case of Petrelli — you allow the rest of us to run about changing things and see what shakes out. Cherry picking which events to be involved with." Elisabeth's blue eyes turn to him. "Or at least, that's sure how it appears from the outside."

"You misunderstand," Simon corrects, "we had absolutely no intention of allowing Arthur's future to come to pass. None what so ever. All we have ever attempted to do is allow history to follow the same course that Richard came from, the ultimate end that we know the outcome of. I think you misunderstand us as some sort of protectors of history, which is far from the truth. What we're intending to do is follow a roadmap that Richard knows the next near thirty years of intimately…"

The elevator begins to slow. "We have been sitting and biding our time, letting the Richard of time timeline live out his life. The intention is to get him as close to the Richard I know as possible, which obviously won't be an exact science… but the closer they wind up in thirty more years time will allow them to work together. Maybe not today, certainly, but eventually."

Simon's brows crease together, worriedly. "The only change the Institute is making, is ensuring that there is not a drastic population decrease with the coming Storm," and Liz can almost hear the capitalization in that term, even as the doors of the elevator slide open with a soft meloic chime of music. "We, as I have said before, are creating an Ark to save the lives of those who might otherwise die in the chaos to come. When the dust settles, when the worst has been endured, then we will be able to begin rebuilding in a future of our own design. One not build on the backs of trying to stem the tide of armageddon invariably barreling towards us like a wall of water."

As Simon wheels out into the hallway, the location he emerges to looks nothing like the industrial concrete and dark corridors of the lowest level. Here, the walls are a smooth and soft white, floors a glossy black tile and circular lights recessed into the ceiling shed a comfortable warmth rather than a cold fluorescent desaturation.

"We're not far now," Simon explains, looking back into the elevator and waiting for Liz to follow.

Perhaps she did misunderstand… or perhaps she just wanted the entirety of it laid out. She'll never tell. Elisabeth merely smiles faintly and follows Simon off the elevator, coughing once more into the crook of her arm. The idea that they're possible miles underground disturbs her in ways she can't articulate — and wouldn't to the man she accompanies even if she could. So she simply follows quietly.

Walking along with Simon, Elisabeth is able to recognize the layout of the hallway she's in. Rows of matte white doors with key-card readers next to them resemble the entrances of apartments. That there's people here, too, makes it seem all the more residential. Most of the people passing Simon and Elisabeth by look like they work here, white-jacketed researchers who politely smile and dip their head into a nod as they carry about their way.

"…then when we prepared the innoculation, the patient's response time was increased nearly two-hundred percent. I'm certain that with another year of study we'll be able to more properly synthesize Doctor Sheridan's version of amphodynamine without the secondary components." That voice isn't of a doctor at all — at least not one Liz expects. Rather, it belongs to a girl just barely in her teens, long blonde hair wound up into a bun behind her head, bright blue eyes cast up at a stoic man in a dark brown suit and white labcoat walking at her side.

The girl is dressed distinctly like a researcher as well, with her buttoned down labcoat and collared shirt and sweatervest beneath, even if perhaps an understudy of some kind. On walking by Liz, the young girl looks up and offers a bright smile. "Hello miss Harrison!" It's practically a chirp, along with a cheerful wave.

The man at her side needs no introduction, and that Professor Mohinder Suresh offers Elisabeth a tempered greeting of awkward smile and bow of his head is perhaps indicative that his attention is settled squarely on Julie's assessment of a patient.

Doctor Broome, however, halts his wheelchair as they pass. Not to stop them, but to stop at a door. "We're here…" Simon explains, lifting one gray brow as if in question of whether Liz is ready to meet Eve.

Elisabeth is mentally cataloging everything. The name of Dr. Sheridan brings her teeth to a near-grind. She does manage to hide it, nodding politely to Mohinder Suresh and the girl with him with no hint of recognition. She doesn't like that the girl knows her name, though, and it's only after they've passed by that it hits Liz who she probably just saw. She whips her head around to look over her shoulder for a long moment, narrowing her blue eyes. And then looks at Broome. "I'm ready," she says quietly.

A tap of a button on the arm-rest of Broome's chair elicits a chime in Eve's apartment, a remotely-activated doorbell with a soft and plesant tune to it. A moment later, the automated door slides open like a grocery store's sliding doors, recessing smoothly into the wall and revealing a toothed edge to the inside seam along with retracted bolts, likely implying that all of the rooms can be locked down in a security crisis.

With a whirr of the electrical engine of Broome's wheelchair, simon rolls himself in to the spacious and brightly lit apartment. "/?Eve//," Simon calls out, "Elisabeth is here!" Eve's residence isn't a cell, certainly isn't a medical facility either.

It's— a beach house?

The sound of the ocean floods Elisabeth's senses when she steps into the apartment, and beyond the eggshell white walls and sconce lamps recessed into the walls and ceiling, a large picture window shows the lappine shores of an expansive white-sands beach. COmfortable furniture from a large living room is partly recessed into a lowered floor surrounding an electric hearth. Visible through an arched doorway is a painting-filled studio, and through another doorway a spacious and modern looking kitchen.

The vista out the windows though seems impossible. The cause of which is offered a fond smile by Simon; a young Hindi boy sitting on the corner of Eve's sofa, reading an issue of Pause magazine, folded over to a beer advertisement showing that very beach.

"Joachim," Simon greets the boy of twelve with a warm smile and grandfatherly tone, "could you give us some privacy, please? Eve has a visitor." The boy rises up off of the sofa, folding the magazine back over and setting it down on the coffee table.

"I will wait outside," he states in an accented tone, big brown eyes looking up to Liz as the boy arches a brow, then looks back to Simon. "The beach makes Eve happy," he explains with a tiny smile, and Simon's breathy laughter implies his own agreement.

"Yes, yes…" Dark eyes scan the apartment, then look back over to Liz. "Eve?" He calls out again.

The sound of intense and dark piano chords along with a female alto voice can be heard as the two enter the apartment of the oracle. Her raven dark hair cascades down her back frizzy and a little messy, which is facing the door as she plays the piano with eyes close and head tilted back. Dressed in a long cotton dark purple dress, her feet bare as one foot presses the sustaining pedal down. Fingers with dried paint gliding along the keys, the songstress opens her mouth as she continues to sing.

They traveled around and round

No where, to be found

Couldn't even see themselves in the night

What.. what have you brought to us.. endless night

As she sings, the pair would see numerous new paintings around her dwelling. The first of which showing a man with a scruffy beard, hand on the wall next to him, looking down as a brunette grips his arm tightly.

Endless night.. shadows call

One depicting Elizabeth herself talking to a dark haired woman, beer in hand a light smirk on her face. The next painting shows a group of women together, laughing smiling, celebrating a new addition to their band while one of the women holds a baby boy with red hair.

She's running, running, running for her life..

A series of paintings with the scarred face of Peter Petrelli stand alone to the side, much as the man often does himself. The first of an unconscious Peter, the red headed Gillian leaning over him, lips getting ready to touch his. The second of Peter speaking to the blonde telepath Kaylee, the look of forgiving and letting go on both of their faces, while the next one shows a angry Peter facing off against a old grizzled haired man, a government convoy of sorts. The last depicts Peter standing in a shadowed place. Frown on his face, the scar on his face painted a bright and intense red.

And if she knew that her running would be all in vain.. she'd keep going, keep trying..

The next one shows a pretty, woman with red hair. In the painting her faces appears in many people's dreams, a colleague of sorts of different dreams and the faces of the people whose dreams she's entered. Next to the one of the dreaming woman, there is one of the man known as Cardinal, sitting on a wooden bench tears rolling down his face.

Because they all know.. they all see.. what's coming..

A painting of a large group of people gathered together on an island not far from the city, remembering the loss of their comrades.. friends.. candles lit all around. Next to that painting, one of Broome and another man can be seen the Alternate version of Cardinal, they are deep in conversation as they stare ahead at something.

They see.. what's.. coming.. endless night..

There are numerous other new paintings are the room. But the most recent and unfinished one happens to be right beside the piano that Eve is currently playing. It only shows the outline of a face and an eye, the sex of the figure cannot be seen yet, nor the color of the eye. As the two are able to soak in this view of what Eve has been doing for the past few weeks. For Elizabeth, what she's been doing for the past few months. The seer plays a delicate ending to the song and tilts her head, mouth slightly open as she let's the note ring throughout the home. Eyes opening slowly a slow smile crosses her lips, she knows who is here, her head turns a bit to look over her shoulder and she offers the two a little smile, eerie light grey eyes twinkling in the light of the room.

"Hello.. my queen."

It is the music that hits Elisabeth even before the sound of the ocean. The music that she still cannot feel in the ways that she's used to. It's a physical pain in her stomach, honestly. A feeling of being… muffled, as if her ears have cotton in them sometimes even though everything is perfectly clear. It's a perception problem. Like she's lost her depth perception altogether in some ways. The blonde's chin comes up and she nods slightly to the boy as he leaves, walking quietly into the room and looking at the paintings. Eve will address her and acknowledge her in the oracle's own time.

She is looking at the painting of herself, trying to sort through the people in her head and wondering if this event has already happened or if it's something still to come. Perhaps it doesn't matter. Elisabeth turns at the trailing away of music and smiles faintly. "I've missed you, Eve. You had me worried."

Looking further into the apartment, Simon's brows furrow as he looks askance to Eve, then the paintings, then back again. "I'm going to keep Joachim company," Simon implies with a tip of his head forward into a nod, "we'll be at the park, Eve, Elisabeth. Feel free to come find me when you're done, and I can have someone take you home."

Nodding to the boy, Broome allows the young illusionist to step out of the room with a subtle ripple of the ocean scene as he briefly loses focus on it. Looking back to Eve and Elisabeth, Simon tips his head down into a nod, and then wheels himself outside, allowing the apartment door to quietly slide shut on his way out, giving the two women time to catch up and converse.

"Liz." She stands and walks over to embrace the other woman. She closes her eyes before nodding towards Broome. "Joachim, thanks." She says with a soft smile before she releases Liz and walks towards the kitchen. "I've missed you, I've.." Eve enters the kitchen area and puts things together to make tea. "I've been here. Okay, but here. No where else." Eve says with a sigh before she's gesturing towards the seats not to far from the kitchen. "It's been ages." And then as if she's just remembering something she grins and takes Lizzie's hand. "Congratulations on your promotion."

"I'm sure you have many questions.. I do too." While she sees the future, she doesn't see every single thing. But she sees enough to piece a picture together that makes sense. Liz can fill the holes. "How are you?" she looks into Elisabeth's eyes and frowns. Her friend seems different. "The chess board has changed, hasn't it?" It's not really a question, more than a statement. Eve looks.. well the most sane that Liz has probably ever seen her. Besides her most recent episode involving the 8th of November, she's been pretty sane. Yep.

"You're worried about him." she nudges her head towards the painting of the crying Cardinal.

Elisabeth avoided doing more than a brief glance at that piece. Eve's statement of worry is .. an understatement. Worry. Hurt. Anger. They are all present for her errant lover. She hugs the seeress tightly, burying her face against Eve's shoulder for a long moment. And when she feels the need to cough deeply, she pulls away so as not to share her horrible germs. It takes a minute for her to catch her breath after that bout. "Thank you," she finally says. Though she's not sure congratulations are entirely in order.

"Eve…." Elisabeth trails off, her blue eyes still avoiding the image of Richard in his sadness. "I do have a great many questions. Ask yours first." If only because Liz isn't sure Eve's answers can be believed… how is she to know the oracle isn't being manipulated or coerced? After all… she lives here. In an apartment that can be locked from the outside. A gilded cage is still, after all, a cage.

"How is Gillian?" she asks, which is probably the only real question she wants an answer too, because no matter what she's seen of her best friend. She still wants someone to tell her. "Teo?" she tilts her head and rubs her temples. "I want out of here Liz. But the other one." Meaning the alternate Cardinal. "Wants me here still, it's all part of the plan." She hums softly as she crosses her feet at her ankles.

"You never heard from Darius again huh?" she wonders briefly, the lost lover. Eve has come to terms that in her love life. It will probably always be doomed. It's just in her fate, she supposes. The seer looks back towards her paintings and then back towards Elisabeth. "I was thinking about the old days.. back when Kazimir ran around the city like a lunatic.. back before things got as messed up as they are now."

The precognitive spends an awful lot of time looking back into the past. "I miss everyone so much.. not sure it's the other way around." Before Eve was taken, she was at her craziest and only Gillian was really allowed to see her, and a few Ferrymen nurses. "But I'm still me." She leans forward and looks deeply into Elisabeth's eyes. "And I know it might be hard to believe." Her eyes close for a moment again before she's leaning back into her chair and smiling faintly at the FRONTLINE officer. "Michael.. he's gone." She grimaces as she thinks about Cameron's older brother. "I never got to explain to him.. about Cameron." It might be up there with the regret of not making it really work with Cameron and saving his life.

"She's… " Elisabeth trails off. Gillian is one of the ones she doesn't keep in as good a contact with. She's a shoddy friend, to be quite honest — too buried in her work and in the extracurriculars to be as good a friend as she should be. Shame colors her features at the realization, and she clears her throat. "She's doing all right, last I knew. Teo was extracted." She doesn't mention that Francois is now missing — they don't need to know that and they may be monitoring. "No, I haven't heard from Darius. I'm sorry, Eve."

The blonde moves to pace a little restlessly, finally stopping in front of the painting that Eve made a point of drawing her eye to. Her fingertips brush Richard's face lightly for a moment, her brows furrowing just slightly as she realizes what she's seeing. The confessional? It's got to be bad if he's turned to the Church. Her jaw clenches and she resolutely turns back around to face the seer.

"I don't care if anyone else misses you — I sure as hell do. Not for what you can do. Though yes, that's valuable. I miss you because you're… what I fight for, Eve." The precogs like Tamara and Eve, the healers like Abby, the augmentors like Gilly…. they are who she fights for. The ones who would be taken and used.

Listening to Elisabeth she nods and scratches her forehead for a moment. "Tell Gillian and Teo, I said.." she looks off to the distance. What to tell them.. "That I miss them and I'm sorry.. and I'm safe. That is if you run into them."

"My hero." Eve says and gives the other paintings a pondering glance before the water announces it's ready and Eve is standing and getting the tea into mugs and sliding one down the counter. "Drink it, you need it." She says with a firm tone. It's no good that Liz is sick. "And he'll be fine. He just needs to get his head together, he needs a break to be honest." Eve says and shakes her head at the painting of Cardinal. "You sure know how to pick them." She takes a small sip of her tea and closes her eyes in satisfaction. Yessss, that's good.

"I would have been fine.. if I didn't have the damn Evolved virus when they came to get me." She would have seen them and been gone already. "But.. I think that they," she looks upwards. "Wanted me here, so.. here I am. For now." That Eve thinks she'll be in the apartment/cell for much longer is a joke. She isn't meant to stay here forever. "I think the other Cardinal is paranoid and thinks he's going to set the future right." She waves her hand around. "And this is where I want Cardinal to learn from his future self's mistake. Though they both see as it as their mission to try and make the future a better place. Everytime.. that we stopped the presumed end of the world from happening." Eve says thinking back to Kazimir, Munin, Arthur Pertrelli. "Something else happened that would make it seem like we messed up anyway. They can't see the paths of the past and future."

Eve shakes her head. "This other Cardinal knows I don't have much faith in what he's planning, but that's because all I see is the tragedy." She waves her hands towards the paintings. "They can't know for sure. And Broome.." she sighs, "He hero worships the man." The seer comes to lean against the counter of the kitchen. "But they don't see what I see." She says in a singsong voice, head tilted as she studies Elisabeth. And she adds in a whisper, "They don't see it all. None of them."

"Everyone wants to say how they know just what to do.. none of them know what to do." She looks sad as she sips more of her tea. The truth of the matter being, if Broome and Cardinal fuck this up. Eve doesn't want to even think about what will happen in the future now.

Elisabeth glances toward the wailing kettle and smiles a little as the mug of tea is forced on her. Taking it, she looks up at Eve and says softly, "Don't we all?" But some of us don't get to just run away and ignore it. She opts not to comment on her ability to pick men. Richard… both of them… has hurt her. And she's working through what comes with it, but she's not in the mood to share in a room that's probably bugged. And yet Eve starts talking.

And the White Queen's oracle seems as sane as Elisabeth's ever seen. The blonde's blue eyes sharpen on Eve thoughtfully. "Knowing what's coming sure as hell hasn't helped a lot," she agrees softly. "But sitting back and letting it all go to hell around us without fighting isn't in our natures either." She smiles a little. "I do miss your advice, my friend. No one can see it all — not even you. Life isn't a destination, kiddo. It's about the things you do on the journey." She sips her tea again, pausing to cough harshly into the curve of her arm again. "So tell me what you want, Eve. Are you going to stay for a while? Are you going to go with me?"

"Sometimes I wish for a moment that I could see it all. But then.. I remember that I can barely handle what I see now." She says with a soft chuckle and another sip of her tea. "I agree.. it's human nature to want to protect yourself and sometimes even others.." in their cases protect themselves from the future. "It just gets so messy, since everyone thinks they know the best way of changing it all."

Eve shrugs slightly and she looks over out the window towards the beach. This house reminds of her of when she had run away to L.A. when the Nightmare Man wouldn't leave her alone. She was safe there, she feels safe here.

When you shock someone that sees the future.. that's truly amazing thing. But like Liz said.. you can't see it all and sometimes people don't act the way that they do in her dreams. "I..what?" she tilts her head towards Elisabeth. The thought of leaving this place.. what she's called her home as much as it's a cell. It's been a safe haven, a place where Eve has been reborn. "I.." she doesn't seem to be able to speak. Taken by surprise, her eyes widen.

"I would like to visit people.. outside.. but I'm.. I'm not sure." Her mouth opens again and she sets her mug down on the counter. "Get Broome. We.. should talk to him." Is the last thing she says to Elisabeth before she takes another sip of her tea. The thought of leaving, even though it's what she's been wanting. Downright scares her shitless.

Elisabeth sets her tea down and says quietly. "No. If you have to ask Broome for permission to go, Eve, then it's not really your choice, is it?" Her tone is gentle, matter-of-fact, as she reaches out to touch the oracle's arm. "Cardinal — the one running the place — tells me that it's your choice to remain. But you should perhaps consider whether that's the truth or not. And whether you stay because it's the right thing or because it's… the safe thing." She rubs Eve's arm gently. "You don't have to answer to me, either. It will always be your choice. Though I would very much like it if you kept in better touch. You have my phone number, you know," she chides gently. "I would worry a little less if you called sometimes."

The blonde is making a very conscious effort to not put Eve in an untenable position. The woman is fragile and in some ways Elisabeth is willing to believe of Richard Cardinal's alternate self that he is looking out for her. At least until Eve no longer does what it is he wants of her. Her opinion of the future version of her lover is pretty much gutted by what she believes he's doing. In her own way, she's perhaps just as blind as Simon Broome is in his hero worship — not because she thinks Richard can do no wrong. But because in spite of the wrong, she too is willing to follow. Everyone's got their own definitions of right and wrong too.

"I want to go."

When that statement rings out to the air. Eve's legs tremble and she closes her eyes. "I want to go." She says in a more firm tone and she's holding the counter for support. "I just need to talk to Broome about some things, like.. the kids." She says and tilts her head towards Elisabeth. "There are kids here that I.. teach.. that depend on me. I can't just leave them here. But.. I want to go." She nods her head and takes another drink of her tea. Hands shaking.

Thinking of all the people she could see and all the things she could do. "I will probably have to come back. Not because of them.. because.." she doesn't trust herself. Not yet. What if she just cracks again, like before and things just get worst? She won't be able to cope, she figures. So much has changed.

"Broome!" she calls loudly and she takes another sip of her tea. "Broome! Joachim!" she calls for both of them. Her eyes on Elisabeth as she does so. Is this a trick? An illusion? Practice for the boy?

It takes a while, and were Eve not shouting no one would have heard her. That a passer by had heard Eve calling for Broome and went running down to where they'd just passed by he and Joachim in the park is the only reason that Eve Mas and Elisabeth Harrison aren't left hanging. But it still takes time before the apartment door opens and the electronic whirr of a wheelchair brings Broome rolling in, one brow raised and Joachim quietly walking behind him.

There's also the whirr of hydraulics too, and a tall blocky figure in matte black armor striding in behind Broome and Joachim in a heavier, more advanced looking suit of Horizon armor, faceplate a coppery red, not a glossy black. 00-04 stenciled on the front of his chestplate.

"Eve, what's the matter?" Worry is painted across Simon's face, and the armored FRONTLINE-Zero operative looks left and right in the apartment, then down to Broome. Seeing that there isn't an immediate crisis, Simon waves his hand, "You can go…" is quietly offered, and the black-clad officer turns his visored countenance towards Elisabeth, then turns around entirely and walks out with a clunk-clunk of heaby bootfalls and whirring hydraulics.

Simon, however, looks expectant.

The shouting isn't something Elisabeth stops. In point of fact, in the meantime, all she does is let Eve pace. When the other woman allows for it, she puts her hand on an arm or a shoulder in a gesture of comfort.

When the door opens and a goddamn Horizon suit walks in, Elisabeth's on her feet in an instant, chronic fatigue and the head cold from Hell be damned. She puts herself between the armor and Eve, the move as instinctive as breathing. Yeah — she's fully aware she could get squished like a grape. If the visor weren't opaque, she'd have met the person's gaze with one of her own that rarely bodes well for people on the other end of it.

And when he turns to go, Elisabeth's attention falls to Simon Broome. It takes all that she has to be able to maintain a mostly neutral expression. She lets Eve speak for herself, though, stepping out of the way.

"I want to leave." She says and there goes the weak feeling in her knees again. "But.. not permanently." She says with a sigh. She rubs her forehead and squeezes her eyes shut. "I'm not sure what I want.. but I want to see everyone." She says to Broome before she walks over and kneels down on the side of Broome and places a hand on his arm. "You saved me from myself." She states and it's not in hero worship that she looks to Broome but gratitude. "I know that the other one here.. he needs me."

She looks over to Elisabeth and then back to Broome. "But the other one needs to me too. They both do." The precog seems to be thinking of too many things at once because she grabs her head again but she doesn't cry out. She just closes her eyes and sits there.

"Could I come back?" she whispers softly, like a little girl. Eve is still damaged, she's just been doing better than usual. Her eyes open slowly and she looks towards her studio and music room. She finally has to do something that she hasn't had to do in a while. She can make a choice.

There's a sigh that slips from Simon's nose, brows furrow and his head dips down slowly. "You could, but… I have to tell you, Eve, there's consequences to wanting to do what you want to do." With his chair rolling deeper inside of the room, Simon offers a silent look back to Joachim, who dips his head down and dismisses the illusion outside of the window, returning it to a matte painting skyline of New York City with halogen lights behind it making it look illuminated. Joachim turns, and then quietly walks out into the hall.

Waiting for the door to close, Simon exhales a sigh again and looks from Elisabeth to Eve. "You are allowed to go, and if you so wish you can come back. But unfortunately, Eve, you know more than Miss Harrison here does about the internal workings of this facility. I'm afraid that with the company you would be keeping and New York City as your destination of return…" Simon's dark eyes flick down to his lap.

"We'd have to perform selective memory edits." Those coal dark eyes look back up to Eve, no relish there. "Just of what you know about this place and the people here. Where the facility is located, things of that nature. You'd still know you came here, have enough to remember how you were treated and, yes… keep all the hard work on healing your mind."

Broome briefly looks to Liz, then back to Eve again.

"But it's a necessary precaution. Further, irreversable. While you could be told on returning the things we would have you forget, there is no way to return them that is safe with someone of your ability. Though I would ask you to reconsider…"

Simon's lips dip down into a frown. "We recently recovered another young precognitive during the riots. She was badly injured, and while we were able to save her life, her mind is…" Simon's brows pinch together. "I would have liked to have you here, to help her. I believe you two know each other as well…"

Simon's brows crease together. "You can go, out there, and lose your knowledge of the Institute, or you can stay here and help us. The choice is yours."

"It's good to hear that Tamara's all right," Elisabeth says mildly, clearly aware of the other precognitive's arrival here though how she came by the information she declines to mention. There's a faint smile about her lips, as if she expected the manipulation. "I'm sure she can use your help, Eve."

She moves to drop a kiss atop Eve's head where she crouches next to the old man in the wheelchair. Her blue eyes meet Broome's, shuttered and calm. He's verified exactly what she suspected all along. "You have my phone number, sweetheart. Call me whenever you like. I won't be too busy for you." It's a solemn promise. "I'll just be happy to be able to come up and visit you whenever you'd like, now that I know you're here and taking care of the children. Assuming, of course, that our dear friends here aren't going to be wiping my memory on the way out the door."

This is all moving to fast for Eve and she feels like she's falling down into a deep chasm and the ground isn't rushing up to meet her anytime soon. She closes her eyes at the kiss from Elisabeth and stands up and backs away to lean against the chair.

To have your memory altered is a scary thing, especially for Eve. She knows these kids, helps them. "Tamara?" she looks from Broome to Elisabeth and shakes her head, her body starting to shake. She might be in need of her meds soon.

"I don't want to forget them.. I.. they need me." As much as she needs them. Tears well up in Eve's eyes and she shakes her head furiously. "You have to take me to her then." She says to Broome with a narrowing of her eyes. "She needs help?"

It's as if there was a dam protecting Eve from herself. Keeping her psychosis in check and having this choice laid down before her, the dam seems to be cracking. Liz and Broome both would recognize the crazed look beginning to enter her eyes, the way she looks behind her and then to the side. "I.." she feels like she's betraying her friends. Gillian..Peter..Teo.. they all need her. Is what she's always rationalized in her head, without her they'd get into all sorts of trouble and without her.. they have. But she can't leave the Institute.. not yet. Not without knowing for sure.

"I can't leave yet." She says aloud softly, as much as Elisabeth might believe it's manipulation it's more of Eve's sense of knowing that she shouldn't leave.. yet. It'd go against everything she's been working towards. "Please tell them, I'm sorry." Now she's not just sorry for being taken.. she's sorry for staying.

Simon offers Liz a hooded stare, his eyes partway lidded and amusement drained from his face at her constant passive-aggressive barbs. How Cardinal put up with her for thirty some-odd years, he can never understand. Swallowing down an awkward breath, Simon clears his throat and betrays neither surprise nor confusion about Tamara's name being mentioned.

Breathing in deeply and then exhaling a slow sigh, Smon doesn't seem to have enjoyed putting Eve through that decision, not in the slightest. Worry paints his face, clearly. "I'm sorry, Eve, for making you have to choose. But there are too many people who would do harm to the good we're trying to do here, if they got their hands on what you know."

Looking back to Elisabeth, Simon's brows tense slightly, and when his chair rolls deeper into the apartment, he reaches up with a shaky, weak hand and rests it on the small of Eve's back. "It's alright, Eve, I was going to make the offer to you when things were better here… for a temporary leave of absence, I just…" Broome looks askance to Liz, then back to Eve. "Ever since what happened to Liette, we haven't allowed residents out openly. It's too dangerous, I wish there were another way."

Grimacing, Simon looks down to his lap, letting his hand slide away from Eve.

Elisabeth reassures Eve, her body attempting to lace her words with the calm that she has often employed in the past with excitable precogs and others. The fact that there's a faint twinge in her head when she does it is perhaps good news for the blonde — nothing happens as she speaks, but that little twinge represents the hope that she will, in fact, recover eventually from the blow-out of her power. "Don't be sorry, Eve. Tamara needs you." She is entirely sincere.

To allow Eve's memory to be altered like that goes against Elisabeth's grain. "Everyone out there is doing fine, and I will pass along to them that you are fine as well." Or as fine as a slightly crazy precog can really be when being manipulated by the shadow monster and his minions. Richard always did play a mean game of goddamn chess, and clearly decades have honed his skill. None of that shows in her demeanor, though.

"I told you that the choice was yours either way — don't feel guilty about making it. I can see that you're doing well, and that's all I wanted. To see for myself how you are." Not really, but Elisabeth will settle for it for now. "You do what you need to. Call me anytime you like. You know how to get in touch with me, okay?" She moves to hug Eve tightly. "Liette, by the way, is doing wonderfully well. Don't worry about her, okay?"

As she steps back, Elisabeth smiles for Eve. Broome's displeasure is noted and dismissed — some days, passive-aggressive barbs will save the day. And maybe keep HER from being mindwiped. "Dr. Broome, please pass along my thanks to your boss for allowing me to see Eve. She means a lot to me, and I'm grateful that he's allowing the visit." If her blue eyes are cool as she says that, well… he'll have to forgive her for still not trusting his motives. "Eve, I do need to get back. But I hope that you'll call more regularly. I miss you quite a lot."

"It's okay Simon.." she says softly and she fidgets just a bit. "Choose wisely, who you trust." She whispers softly into Elisabeth's ear and she holds the woman tight and nods her head. "Phone calls will be good." She agrees and looks down to Broome, she stares into his eyes as she tries to calm herself. But her body shakes and trembles even more.

"I.. need.." she says and then she's walking away from everyone. She and Simon will talk later, once she's rested. She's sure. "I need to lie down. I'll call you soon Lizzie. Promise." She says softly as she makes her way towards her bedroom and she trails her fingers upon the wall as she goes. Humming and looking up towards the ceiling. "Farewell, my queen. Be safe." She says before the door to her room is closed and she makes her way to the bed.

Curling up, she allows the tears for fall from her face and she bites her lip. Refusing to cry out, refusing to let the madness wash her over like it has so many times before.

She's where she's suppose to be right now.. that much she knows for sure.

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