Participants:
| Scene Title | By Another Name |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Jolene Chevalier reunited with her mother, and discusses the importance of family and identity. |
| Date | October 10, 2011 |
Bannerman Castle feels more congested than ever. In the last few weeks, with Ferry safehouses closing all across New York City due to government push-back into formerly abandoned parts of the city, refugees and operatives alike have come to resettle at the Ferry’s sole fallback location. A menagerie of tents and other temporary dwellings litter the castle courtyard, small fires burning only behind vision obstructing cinder-block walls. From a distance, the castle still looks unoccupied. From a distance, imperfections are harder to see.
It’s been months since Jolene Chevalier had set foot in Bannerman Castle, and the population surge has caught her completely by surprise. Coming down a rough set of rocky steps, Jolene scans the crowd of bundled-up refugees, fighting off the bitter chill in the air. She tugs at the hem of her own well-worn coat, knowing full well that it won’t suffice by the time winter actually comes. Then, a flash of dark hair in the crowd catches Lene’s attention, and she calls out. "Mo —" No. No that’s not appropriate. “Gillian!”
It’s the first time Gillian has seen her time-spanned daughter in as many months. Jolene looks like she’s been traveling. Though she was spotted at the Rock Cellar just a month ago, it doesn’t seem like she’s been idle since. Her clothes are worn, patched in some places, and her wine-red hair is showing its natural brown at the roots. Scratching at the side of her face over a square bandage affixed to her cheek, Jolene looks half guilty, half glad to see Gillian. Her wave is a small one, weighted with purpose.
While her official name might no longer be Gillian, it's still the name most people use when they speak to her. The Gwen identity still mostly happens when she tries to pass checkpoints or has to show her ID. It has come in handy, especially with the new announcements for Tier-1. Gillian Childs' believed death came at quite a relief when she heard that order. The voice catches her ear, causing her to turn away from where she stood looking at a group of Ferry.
She couldn't help but look with worry at them, even if they'd been ordered to keep what they'd seen quiet.
"Jolene," she responded with surprise. It'd been so long since she's seen her daughter she almost half expected her to have… disappeared? She's honestly not sure what she expected. She'd tried to call a time or two when off island, but the last number she had had been disconnected.
She stepped closer, looking the young woman over. Part of her wanted to think of her as a girl— she couldn't help but see that little girl from her dreams at times— but she was a woman. Not much younger than her. And still her daughter. "Was starting to think you went and disappeared on me. You're hurt?" she nodded toward the bandage covered cheek to indicate what she meant by her half-question, half-statement.
“Just some stupid stuff,” Lene admits with a dismissive tone as she swiftly steps in to embrace Gillian. It’s a ferocious embrace, the kind people who never expected to see each other give. Fingers curl in the fabric of Gillian’s coat, Jolene’s face presses into her shoulder. For a moment she is a girl; younger and in need of more support. But that lasts only a moment, disentangling from the mother she barely knew, hands moving up to rest on her shoulders. “I came back here to warn you about something,” she confesses in a small, worried tone of voice. “I didn’t… I couldn’t just leave you in the dark.”
Never stupid. But Gillian doesn't get to say that as she's pulled into a tight hug by her daughter— who happens to be taller than her. She's often thought it unfair, but it isn't by too much so she'll just close her eyes and wrap her arms around her as well. The weight behind it does give her some hints, ones she doesn't like. Until it ends and she's left looking into the young woman's green eyes.
"Are you leaving?" she rasped in a resigned way, as if she expects that to be what she'd warn her about. She's about to lose the rest of her almost children, why not lose the one she barely knew and somehow raised anyway at around the same time.
Gillian’s question elicits a look of worry from Lene, one that is combined with a certain measure of uncertainty. She leans back, just a little, so that Gillian can see how concerned she is. Lene’s gloved hands slide down Gillian’s arms, then take her mother’s hands in her own. “We all are,” she suggests in a small voice. “Not — like, all of us kids,” such as they are, “but me and you.” Lips pursing and eyes downturned, Lene grows momentarily silent before looking back up to her mother.
“Howard and I talked. He’s… going to talk to his mother, tell her everything. I’m — “ Lene shakes her head, knowing how difficult this all is. “We’ve agreed to help the Ferrymen take down the Institute, once and for all. No half measures, no prisoners, just… we’re resetting everything to zero.” A little squeeze of her hands, and Lene lets her green eyes level on Gillian’s. “I’m going to be setting up a meeting with Liz soon, so we can… I don’t know, plan better. But I know you’re going to be asked to help. Not, because this is the past — everything’s already changed — but because I know you. I know these people,” she gestures with a nod of her head as if to indicate the Ferrymen as a whole. “Wherever you go, Mom. I’m going with you.”
Howard. That's not one of the names that Gillian knows, but he imagines that he's someone's son. She won't ask for too many details on what all she needs to be told, but she nods. Her daughter is right— the Ferry would ask for her help, and she'd already decided she would stay and help in some manner. It didn't matter how. But she half expected her daughter to be about to tell her where she intended to go— until she did. She took in a deep breath, showing her surprise. She wasn't leaving— in fact she intended to be with her every step of the way. Instead of responding at first, she pulled the girl into another hug, a tight hug, "Don't know where I'll be the most helpful, yet. But we'll go together."
She didn't know where, yet. But wherever it is.
“We’ve still got some time. I need to meet up with Howard again, do some planning, maybe track down Adele…” As Lene rambles, she curls her fingers into her mother’s jacket. “But before all of that, I… I wanted to spend some time with you. This stuff, it’s — it’s dangerous work.” Obviously they need to spend more time together, there’s enough dangerous work Gillian could tell her daughter about that would fill several books. “Maybe, maybe we could sneak away for a bit. Just you and me? I — don’t know where we’d go, but I want to make it count.”
Then, with a small hint of pain in her voice, Lene slips back out of the embrace. “Nate, would’ve wanted us to be together… not apart.”
“I wish I could have met him,” Gillian admits without really meaning to. The little boy who had been born twice, in two futures that will never be. Just the dreams told her a little bit about him, what he grew up looking like, even. And from what she heard, they died together. Though she wishes they’d have never left this young woman she has her arms around.
"Too bad it's likely too dangerous to visit Coney Island." With everything happening, and the location, she doubted they would be able to do much before they got set upon in that place. She could explain certain things, show her certain things. There's so many places that are just dangerous to go to, even if they had some kind of personal meaning to her in the past. "There's a few places on the island we could go to. There's horseback riding," she offers, knowing where they keep the horses, even if they're mostly for official purposes.
“Not a big fan of horses,” Lene admits, tilting her head to the side. “Is… there any family you have? I — family I have?” Both of Lene’s brows raise, a hopeful look crossing her face as she rocks back and forth on her heels. “I… I know my dad’s…” she doesn’t finish that statement. “But, is there anyone I could meet? I feel like… like we might not ever get a chance again. Everyone was already gone when I’m from.”
Then, looking over to a small family of refugees huddled around a sheltered fire, Lene’s expression softens and turns more somber. “I… guess a lot of people are that way.” She looks back to Gillian, a faint sliver of hope warming back in her eyes. “I’m lucky to have you,” she adds, “to get to know you.”
As far as Gillian is concerned, she's the fortunate one.
"There's Brian. I'm sure you've met one of him," Gillian responds quietly, as looks at the young woman, thinking. The idea hits her slowly, as she looks back toward the castle. Had they already relocated the person she's thinking about? She'd have to ask one of the Ferry Council. The girl's father— well— He's no doubt busy. "My parents don't know anything about this world— the ones that raised me, I mean. The Childs." Her other parents, the birth parents, they're dead. She'd only ever met them once.
"But last time I knew Peter's mother was here. We can ask around, see if she got moved into the city or further." She'd already thought this once, even said so at one point in a dream. "You look a little like her." She'd met the woman twice. Once in the past, once in the present.
There’s a look from Lene, an exasperated and surprised one that causes her to rise up on her toes. “Wait,” green eyes catch nearby firelight, her hands curl against the hem of her jacket’s sleeves. “I — my grandmother is still alive?” Somewhere in that exuberance is a tell about what her time is like. “I… I mean — I’d love to meet her. Do… do you think she’d want to see me? Lene’s brows raise, worry beginning to slip across her face.
“I’m not — is she like us?” Only one of Lene’s brows stays raised, though. Concern shifts to uncertainty. “I… there’s so much I want to know about her. I never knew her, I — I don’t know anything about her other than her name. No one would tell me anything about who she is.”
"She was last I checked, but it's been a year," Gillian stated with honesty. She doesn't want to outright say that the surviving member of Peter's parents is definitely alive, because, well, lots of things could happen and it's not like most people would consider informing her of the Petrelli matriarch's potential death. "Of course she would like to meet you," she dismisses the possibility that she wouldn't. What grandparent wouldn't want to meet their granddaughter? Even one from the future— who will never be born in this timeline.
"I don't know much about her. I know she loved Peter with all her heart, and she probably is, but that'll be something you'll have to find out." Again, she didn't know much about her. They'd only really met twice. "She'll want to meet you."
With that, she takes the girl's hand and starts to lead the way toward the castle, keeping an eye out for the older woman, whilst also looking for someone who could point her in the right direction. Surely there aren't a lot of older women on the island named Angela.
“When you introduce me,” Jolene asks in a small voice, squeezing Gillian’s hand gently. “Can it be by another name?” One of her brows raise, a hopeful, if not somewhat sentimental expression crossing her face.
“Jolene Petrelli.”