Breaking The Time Dimensional Rift Of Sanity


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Scene Title Breaking The Time Dimensional Rift Of Sanity
Synopsis Cat and Silver meet for a post-vision luncheon. Much is reminisced and discussed and it only makes Silver's brain and heart hurt.
Date June 22, 2010

The Rock Cellar

A comfortable place, located in the basement of 14 East 4th Street. The red brick walls are covered with memorabilia from various icons of rock and places in rock history, creating a feel similar to that of a Hard Rock Cafe.

The left wall has two bars separated by swinging doors which lead to and from the kitchen. Directly across from the entrance is a two foot high stage with all the equipment needed for acts to perform there. The right wall has three doors marked as restrooms: two for use by women and one by men.

Thirty square feet of open space for dancing and standing room is kept between the stage and the comfortable seating placed around tables which fill the remainder of the Cellar.

The lighting here is often kept dim for purposes of ambience, and when performers are onstage the place is loud enough to make conversation difficult. Just inside the door is a podium where location staff check IDs and stamp the hands of those under twenty-one with a substance visible under UV lights at the two bars and by devices the servers carry. On the podium's front is a sign with big black letters that just about explain it all: If You Don't Like Rock 'N' Roll, You're Too Late Now!

Thirty minutes past noon, the poker-faced woman who owns this place is seated at her customary table; the one kept available for her at a moment's notice or even less than that. Often enough she just shows up, emerging from the area in the back where the manager's office is. The chosen spot is about midway along the left-hand wall and partly cloaked in shadows, allowing her to observe the goings-on without so much drawing attention to herself. Before her is a pint of stout, she as yet has neither begun to eat nor ordered food.

James Silver is expected to soon descend concrete stairs leading to the basement of 14 East 4th Street. At the bottom of those stairs is a pair of wide glass doors, painted with The Rock Cellar and images of a man playing a guitar in gold. A sign to the left of the door, done in large black letters, says For Those About To Rock, We Admit You! Everyone else, go home.

Expectation sparks indulgence in replay of memory, Cat's eyes focus on a wall as a portion of November 8, 2006 plays out.

It's just past noon, on a day when she and her guests don't have class until later in the afternoon. She's hosting a study group session here in the New Haven, CT house she rented, the other members will soon arrive. Food is provided, as are drinks of various sorts. Books are on tables, Cat even has notebooks she wrote things in on display in the living room. The TV set is on, tuned to a New York City station.

Parking doesn't seem to be an issue around here as Silver pulls up to a vacant spot and steps out of his car, feeding coins into the meter. While physically he looks well kept, as if he's been taking better care of himself in recent days. However, if you look into his eyes, there's something else there. Something that's been bothering him for a couple of weeks now and he just can't shake it. Standing outside the Rock Cellar, he shoves his hands into the pockets of his slacks as a memory comes back to him.

Another study hall. He has to admit, he'd be lost without them, but damn all this studying. The fact of the matter is that his dedication is starting to wane in the mountainous volumes of corporate law classes that seems to be threatening to devour him. He walks into Cat's place as has been the practice since she started having these study sessions and announces himself as he walks into the room where everything is laid out. "Not sure I'm going to make it through all these bullshit classes, Cat."

It's easy for her, though she doesn't let on why. Pretenses are kept up, even to the point of taking those notes and participating in/hosting these sessions. If one of the others gets stuck remembering something, she provides the information. It's an easy enough thing to fake being weak on something else a bit later. Silver arrives, first of the bunch that day, commenting on his struggle. "You'll make it," she assures, eyes coming to rest on him. But it doesn't stay there long. The TV screen goes dark, the image it was showing just vanishes. Cat takes up the remote to check other channels and see if the cable's gone out. It isn't. "Weird. I wonder what happened." Surfing continues, until she gets to CNN.

Then her jaw just drops open and eyes go wide.

If he knew how easy it was for her, he'd probably be a little more encouraged. She's smart and he knows it, which is part of his struggle. Her words are lifting, even if just a touch. He sees the expression on her face, though hasn't yet seen the television and he moves around to sit down next to her and he sees what she sees. There are no words as his own eyes narrow at first as if not really comprehending what he's watching here. "What the.. ?" That's about all he can get out as he watches the scene unfold in front of his eyes.

In her seat, emerging from that remembrance, Cat lifts the pint of stout and takes a deep drink of its contents. So much happened after that. Nathan Petrelli's announcement. The fear and violence, the witch hunts that followed, the Linderman Act and registration. Pretenses were kept up regarding her memory, choice made to ignore the Act and not register amid both fear and serious issues about its relation to the US Constitution. Not to mention that parts of the registry such as names and addresses would be publicly available, subject to the whim of bureaucrats who could declare anyone they saw fit dangerous. But still she moved to New York City in 2008, soon joined by Dani. And then life really got interesting. Peter Petrelli and his sharing of having nuked the city. Introduction to Pariah's members. The abduction, Dani's murder. Defeating the Vanguard's viral plot. And a number of other things. Contact with Silver was sporadic during that time, she'd seen him maybe three times since their class were awarded Juris Doctorates and finally put college days behind them. When she runs across him again in May 2009 Cat's resume includes helping plan and taking part in destroying a prison. She's tangling with people who came from the year 2019 and being drawn toward Arthur Petrelli as the next target.

May 11, 2009

She's clad in black as her way is made along the street outside the Verb here in Greenwich Village. Coffee is in hand, Cat's stopping at that newspaper vendor she visits each morning to procure a variety of publications. Calm neutrality is her displayed expression, the eyes look to lack something in terms of liveliness. She's very different than the woman Silver went to law school with, far more somber. She knows it, and on seeing him approaching she realizes he probably will too.

He takes a deep breath. The air around him seems rather stifling at the moment, even standing out on the sidewalk. It's then he finally makes the conscious decision to move into the establishment. There's only been a handful of times they've met here, but he knows just where to go. He watches the workers and the customers as Silver strolls back them, slowly making his way to where he sees her sitting there. Sitting there waiting for him.

He walks slowly down the sidewalk where they're to meet. She may or may not see him as he comes upon her side and reaches for a paper. "Sorry for not being around much. Wedding planning and all that. It's coming up sooner than I anticipated." Fact is, he's made his life revolve around April Bradley and his practice. Given the nature of things, and the state of the city at this point in time, his services are really needed. They are starting to come to him and he's more than happy to help the evolved. "How are you doing? You look.." Look older? More mature? Like you've had better days? What can he possibly say that won't be insulting and offensive. "You're working too hard, I'd say." Aren't they all?" His own coffee sits with steam coming up on the counter as he glances at the headlines, turning his head to look over at her.

The vendor, having seen her coming, has a stack of papers laying out for her. The New York Times, LA Times, Washington Post, Times of London, and some foreign language publications with a few music scene periodicals thrown in. "Got your usuals right here, Cat." He doesn't get a reply right away, attention's been stolen away by James Silver.

Turning toward him, her answer is given. "I've definitely been busy." Money is placed on the counter, the man with the stack of publications takes it, and she takes them. Then she manages a smile, hiding the metaphorical feeling of being knifed by his talk of wedding arrangements. The reminder of how she failed Danielle, hadn't been able to find her before she was murdered. "It's all good. April has to come first. I'm looking forward to meeting her."

But Cat never did. Her interesting life had seen to that, April died before opportunity arose. That she was familiar with such grief couldn't be entirely hidden, but the story was kept to herself. Through the summer and into fall, she'd come across James Silver only a few more times before going overseas in November. The call he'd made about having lunch together was the first contact between them since then, actually coming together delayed twice before the blackouts and bus crash and another time since.

As he walks to her table, brown eyes settle on him. "Silver," she greets pleasantly. "Good to see you." Just then, the sound system emits opening chords from Doctor, My Eyes.

She never did. In fact, the wedding never occured due to the untimely death of April Bradley. A fact that he has yet to recover personally from. Professionally, things have never been better as his practice seems to thrive and he's doing great things for the evolved community. Most who really know him, however, feel that is just a way for him to 'not deal' with things.

Silver slides into the seat across from her and smiles faintly. "And you, Cat. Always good to see you." The corner of his lips curl up as the song begins and he shakes his head. "Some music will never go out of style." The seriousness of it all comes rather quickly though as he asks, "What do you know about this," he pauses as he tries to think of the right word, "blackout thing from a couple of weeks ago?" Honestly when he first made contact with her, he just wanted to catch up, but now it's far more serious. Rumors abound and he wants answers.

She's not disturbed by the question he floats. Curiosity rules the moment, though Cat doesn't immediately get to business. A hint of a grin shows as she recalls something said years before with perfect clarity. "Really, Silver? You once said if I played anything by Jackson Browne we were officially done." Though she's mostly stoic since a few months after coming to New York, touches of humor and playfulness do occasionally surface. This one, as do most others, soon submerges under the waves of business matters. It's time to work toward satisfaction of curiosity.

"Maybe a precognitive," she begins with eyes assessing his reaction to her words, "was abducted by a clandestine agency conducting experiments on people with the SLC, and that agency also abducted a person capable of augmenting the abilities of others. Now, the precog in question is normally only able to give visions to others by touch, one person at a time. But under augmentation, and with that augmentation perhaps itself boosted by use of a secret drug, it caused what happened that day."

With one hand resting on her pint of stout and not looking at all insane or wide-eyed, perfectly calm and confident about that which she relates, Cat tacks on a single cautionary statement. "Anything I tell you has to stay strictly between us."

"I guess you'll have to hire me for privilege. Give me a dollar." Silver comments before he shakes his head. "This stuff cannot be precognitive." Silver is insistent. He's also no dummy, having to work with plenty of evolved, he has done his reading and research. "I had a vision and there's no way this could come true, Cat. No way whatsoever."

The story she tells makes sense, which is the only reason that Silver isn't looking at her like she has bug eyes and antennea sticking out the top of her head. He's far more of a liberal thinker than most might give the lawyer credit for, with the exception of maybe his parents who always thought his viewpoints were outrageous. "So if precognative is out, what else could this be?" Yeah, let's move on to another theory because he's certain this one is not it.

A hand dips into a pocket of her dark shorts, Cat rising slightly from her seat to do so, and a crisp dollar bill is slid across the table. "Fair enough," she replies. Maybe someday she can and will confide in him without need of such formalities. "You can believe, or not believe," the panmnesiac goes on to say, "but I maintain that's what happened. Beyond that, as to theoretical possibilities, the range is limited. Each would involve multiple persons as the sources. Visions while asleep could come from a dreamwalker, but I'm not certain one of those can induce sleep. It would require someone else to handle that end, as well as the augmenter and possibly drugs to expand the effect. An argument could be made for telepathy too, though it would be the weakest of the lot." A bit of the stout is imbibed before Cat opts to seek satisfaction of her curiosity directly.

"What did you see, Silver?"

He would glance away before he says a word. Considering exactly what to tell her, though really, there's no harm in telling her the truth, except that it would open wounds that have continually been scabbed over and picked away for over a year now. She's see the visual of him swallowing before he turns back to her. "I saw April." Silver sighs deeply. Honestly, it would not surprise him to have had a dream of her. He does often, or at least did.

"There was something going on outside. Maybe a riot or a war. There were explosions and chanting. She was there, telling me not to go out and help." He then meets her gaze, "That's why I believe that this cannot possibly be."

Rioting seems a common theme of the visions, from what she's read. People closest to her haven't been much approached, yet. That may soon change. In listening to his tale, Cat doesn't appear surprised. Afterward, her voice is subdued. She knows too very well that feeling of loss, and if she saw Dani in such a vision, it'd definitely have an effect. She'd be scouring the city for the future version, or the illusionist, or whatever she was. In this case, though, she knows just exactly what the facts it. The question is how to proceed in that regard. The April in his vision isn't the one he knew. Time in prison saw to that, over and above the ten years added time. Curse you, April Silver, for not having gone to him and telling the story.

"That doesn't rule out precognition, Silver," Cat elects to assert, "it could be on that day you see someone using an ability to resemble her. Shapeshifting, illusions, telepathy. It also doesn't rule out an older version of April being brought here from the future. In each case, your assessment would be right. She'd look like April and sound like her, but be a different person."

Leaning back as he listens to her. There are some sound theories in what she says to him, but there's still something that's bothering him. "She sounded, acted just like April. I cannot believe it was an illusion or telepathy." His eyes narrow at the mention of future April, "What would make you say something like that? I cannot possibly be expected to believe that she would be capable of.. time travel? C'mon Cat." Silver shakes his head, "Is there something that you know that you're not telling me, Cat?" Jackson Browne aside, Cat would have been nothing but straight with him from the day they met.

"You've heard of Hiro Nakamura, Silver?" Cat inquires calmly enough, as fingers lift that pint of stout again. "Time traveler and teleporter. Maybe at some point in a possible future he got waylaid, someone switched his abilities with another person and used them to take a group of people back in time. April could be one of those people. But, as I said," she adds solemnly, "that wouldn't be the woman you knew. She'd look like her, sound like her, but wouldn't be her. Why she wouldn't look for and find you, I don't know. I could only speculate on that being the reason."

Selective hearing kicks in here for Silver and all he hears is that April could possibly be here.

And alive.

For the first time in nearly a year, something flickers in the eyes of James Silver.


But just as quickly as that, it fades as he shakes his head. "If she were here, she'd find me. I don't care what has happened in all that time, she'd find me. And if she's dead now, why would she be alive in the future? Goddammit, Cat, none of this makes any damn sense." At this point, he's not sure which end it up and which side is down.

"Life's been weird since November 8, 2006, Silver," Cat intones with an edge of sadness to her voice. Not mentioning there was a future version of April out there all this time is, for Cat, one thing. Lying when he mentions her is another entirely, a thing she won't and hasn't done. It's all true, but she isn't going to burn up energy trying to convince him. The facts are laid out, he either accepts them or doesn't. The questions he still has she can't answer. Only April from ten years hence can, and so it is a resolution is made but not spoken.

She intends to find the woman and ask directly.

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