Detainee No. 0003220092

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Scene Title	Detainee No. 0003220092
Synopsis	Abby comes in and gives her account of the events on the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge on January 29, 2009 to the Department of Homeland Security.
Date	February 1, 2009

Homeland Security Holding Facility

For those interested, the official (yet confidential) transcript of this interrogation session can be found here.

Midtown - Homeland Security Holding Facility

From the moment Abby was picked up in front of Old Lucy's in the sleek black government car to when she was escorted into a stark interrogation room inside the Department of Homeland Security's Midtown facility, she's been treated with the utmost kindness. A glass of water sits on the table in front of her, and while the furniture is obviously mass-manufactured, it's not that uncomfortable, considering.

The concrete walls of the room are bare, save for the line of the bricks and a mirror at one end, which throws the young blonde woman's face back at her. Of course, beyond that one-way glass is all manner of recording equipment and witnesses. They stay out of sight, however.

It is Matt Parkman, looking surprisingly better than he did the last time Abby saw him, who walks through the single door. Those dark circles are still under his eyes, and his hair is still begging to be trimmed, but the man appears more relaxed somehow. It might not last very long. The agent takes a seat in front of Abby, but not so that he blocks the direct line of sight to her from the mirror. "Good morning, Abigail," he says in a genial but rather official voice. "Do you mind if we jump right in?"

And Abigail has been all politeness and kindness as well to those who have come in contact with her. Showing her ID's if/when needed. Registration card, drivers license. She's dressed in Sunday best, unsure of how to dress when going to some an interview about something that was, pretty much, illegal. She's tired looking as well, though not in the fashion of Matt Parkman.

The glass of water is halfway consumed along with a half can of red bull from her purse. She sat waiting, twisting at her cross and even at one point offered a blind dip of her head to whomever was likely behind the mirror. Relaxed is not the name of the day, but polite, cordial, proper manners. That is. Underlying worry. There's no need to sit up straight when Matt enters. She's already doing so. "That's fine with me Mr. Parkman. beating around bushes tend to lead to aggravation and delay" A grim smile on her face.

Abby's answer pulls a smile from Parkman's face, and he can't help but dip his head with a soft chuckle. "I agree," he says before clearing his throat into a raised fist. "Now then, would you please state your full name and birth-date, for the record?"

By the book, for prosperity…not one single step is going to be overlooked in order to ensure everything is sealed up tight.

"My name is Abigail Marie Beauchamp, I was born January eighteenth, nineteen ninety" She offers up to him.

Parkman nods, his eyes only slightly narrowed in that special sort of concentration as he watches Abby, giving those behind the fake mirror a chance to scratch the name and date down on their forms. He has to be on full alert to catch any sort of lie or half-truth the woman may try to tell, though part of him is expecting full and thorough cooperation. It's always important to do what is right, after all. No matter what.

"Ms. Beauchamp, would you raise your right hand for me, please." Memories of dreams had while lying on a cot in the shell of the Public Library drift back to the forefront of Parkman's mind for a moment, causing him to smirk slightly as he recites the next part of the scripted dialogue. "Do you sear or affirm that the information you're about to give will be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you god?"

Abigail's right hand goes up, left on the little symbol of gold at her neck. "I swear and affirm that the information I'm about to give with be the truth, the whole truth, nothing but the truth so help me God" Her hand comes down again, to circle the glass of water. The people behind the glass are ignored, likely they'd prefer that and instead her attention is settled on the man she does know.

"Thank you, Ms. Beauchamp," Parkman says with a nod that is indeed grateful. "Now, you spoke earlier with one of our other agents. Would you please affirm that the information you gave him regarding your previous address and current place of work is correct?" He pauses, smiling softly before he adds, "For the record."

"Yes, it is." Everything must be for the record, Abigail understands that. "It is correct, Mr. Parkman."

"Thank you." Parkman leans forward a bit, resting his arms on the table and lacing his fingers. It is as if he were a friend rather than government official, leaning over the fence to get the latest gossip from his neighbor. Only the more somber expression he wears betrays this comparison for what it really is.

"I would like to talk to you about the terrorist events that happened in the city this past Wednesday, January 28th. But I want you to understand, Ms. Beauchamp, that you are not under arrest at this time, and that we're interviewing a lot of people about what happened that day as part of our investigation. Do you understand?"

"I understand, and I'll answer to the best of my ability." He's already seen what she knows, of what occurred on the bridge. Better than frankly she'd even remember since she endured a lot more post Kazimir eradication. Her hand is still around the glass of water, legs crossed at the ankles. Like sitting in the pew at church and listening to the pastor preach.

Parkman nods his thanks rather than verbalize it. "I know that some of this we talked about earlier. You're not under arrest, and you're free to go at any time. You understand that?" It's a lot of hoops to jump through before the heart of the matter can be dealt with, but it's all for good reason.

"I do, and that I can ask for a lawyer at anytime. I understand Mr. Parkman." Again, all for the record. I know your in here too Her blue eyes settled on him. It's not accusatory in the least, what's thought in her head purposefully for him to hear.

Parkman blinks at the thought pointed specifically at him, but his smile only strengthens because of it. Of all the Phoenix operatives, Abby was the one he dreaded speaking to the least. "Good," he says with another nod.

"You're an associate of a group that operates here in New York City that was involved in the events of the 28th, correct? How long have you been working with them, and what name do they go by?"

"You're an associate of a group that operates here in New York City that was involved in the events of the 28th, correct? How long have you been working with them, and what name do they go by?"
"I don't know what to classify myself in association with Phoenix. Associate is too strong. I heal members that come to me or who they ask me to, for the past three to four months, no questions asked, since they discovered my gift. I come when they call, or they find me." Abigail clarifies. I lived with two of them Parkman. How do you classify that? More curious than anything.

"Would you classify yourself as close to them?" Parkman asks, hoping that a rewording of the question will help. "Were you aware of their activities before they happened, or did you only find out about them if they needed your help in healing?"

"Close, yes. A little of the first, a lot of the second. If they thought that they would need me, I would be warned ahead of time in the hopes that I could get appropriate amounts of time off work. A lot of the time, it's a matter of someone finding me, and fetching me, or a call to meet somewhere" Thank you. The glass of water's brought to her lips so she can take a sip then put down on the table very carefully.

"Did you know about what was going to happen on Wednesday the 28th before it did?" Parkman's line of questioning makes sense, leading right off of Abby's answer.

"Which events on the 28th Mr. Parkman? Not to sound rude, but, there was more than one thing happening that day." Another mental sorry offered up to Matt.

"Any and all," is Parkman's answer, given with a shrug. "Did you know about more than one?"

"I knew that there was a virus that one Mr. Kazimir Volken was going to try to disperse and that Phoenix was going to attempt to thwart it at the various points. I was asked ahead of time, to help with one specific group, that it was imperative that I be there, much depended upon it" Her mind touches on the scene in the cathedral, with helena in a wheelchair, Teo beside her, and Helena whispering to Abigail that Kazimir Volkens touch brings death and that Abby brought life.

"Various points?" Parkman leans back a bit, his eyebrows raising. "What points were you made aware of by Phoenix?"

"The news lays them out. The various places. I can't name them off the top of my head, but they're all over the news." I'm going to get arrested, flashes across Abigail's mind, resigned really to that inevitability and wondering if they have chapels in wherever it is they put people who help terrorists. Oh lord what would her mother think of her.

"So you knew about all of them?" Parkman's eyebrows knit, giving him a somewhat hesitant expression. They're getting into rather marshy ground, and it would seem Abigail is at least as wary of it as he is.

“No. Not all." Technically the truth. "But I can put two and two together."

Parkman rolls his lower lip beneath his upper and nods. "I need to know which sites you were aware were going to be targeted, or used…what you knew before Wednesday. It's alright, Ms. Beauchamp."

"No, not really it's not alright. But it's what's right. There was an abandoned hospital, there was.. a boat somewhere, a boat or a submarine, and there was wherever the group that it was foreseen that I would be with. That was unknown. The ConEd power plant" Her lips tighten just a fraction, like she doens't like at all what she just spoke but it's the truth. God forgive me

It //is what's right,// Parkman mentally assures her. "Thank you, Ms. Beauchamp." Abby. "You said group you'd be with…do you mean Phoenix split up into teams for these various sites? Which one were you present at?"

"They were, to the best of my knowledge. I was asked to be placed with the group that would be brought to Kazimir Volken's location, that I was essential to the success of that group." Doesn't mean I like it. Doesn't mean I liked any of it. I hate death and hurting.

Everyone does.

"So you didn't know what group that would be when you first found out about the various sites. When did you find that out? When were you assigned, I guess is a better way of putting it." Parkman drops his hands to his lap, doing his best to look as unassuming and nonthreatening as possible. Abby's comfort is key in all of this, after all.

I'm not //supposed to be able to take a life with what I do. I'm not supposed to be able to hurt with it// "I knew which group Mr. Parkman. The one that would go for Kazimir Volken. The Friday before. So that we would have enough time to prepare… for the worst." I tried telling everyone I know to get off the island. I didn't want to see them destroyed in case the government opted to eliminate Manhattan to save the world. Can you imagine that? 5 billion people's deaths on your shoulders… if you fail? 5 billion saved if you succeed.

"The possibilities were pretty gruesome," Parkman agrees darkly, verbalizing his acknowledgment rather than communicate telepathically. "Did you know where that group would be? I know this is difficult. Please, just bear with me."

"No. We didn't. I didn't. We didn't know until someone said where he was heading, and then we were teleported in. The Verrazano-Narrow Bridge" And there, she places herself at the scene of the crime so to speak. It's also when the southern drawling blonde left eye twitches. It's not a lie, it's just uncomfortable for her, to remember it all.

There is a significant change in Parkman's demeanor when that information is actually voiced, and he nods grimly. "Who gave you the final information, so you could teleport to the bridge?" And for that matter, "Who was the teleporter?"

"Someone, I don't know. I wasn't paying attention. They were on the bridge I guess. I was too scared and trying to focus on keeping calm. The teleporter… she's dead now. Likely. Anne." I don't know last names. Oh god, they're going to hate me. Dejected now. The blonde across the table from him is just waiting now with shoulders not so much straight anymore.

Parkman takes a moment to reach across the table, his palm open to Abigail. It's a subtle offer for comfort, if the tight and worrisome expression on his face is any indication. "I know this is difficult to go through again," he says gently. "But I need you to tell me, as best you can, what happened on that bridge."

The palm is there, but there's not another one to go in it. I don't like to touch. No offense. God didn't always give me control. Abigail nods, visually, her fingers moving back to hang onto the edge of the table. It's an effort to dredge it all up. "There was… an explosion, an overturned van. There were Vanguard members there, trying to stop the van. We came in halfway through. A man named Ethan and a young woman named Eileen. Kazimir was in the cab of the van. He was inhabiting Sylar's body."

Neither Parkman nor the DHS personnel behind the mirror flinch at the notion of Kazimir being inside someone else. They've seen a lot in their tenure here, after all. "Go on, Ms. Beauchamp," Parkman encourages, letting his hand turn so that his palm is against the table.

"They fought, everyone. I hid. I had a gun and a vest, but I hid. I'm no good if I'm dead or hurt. There was yelling. The teleporter tried to bring Kazimir to us, the first time but it didn't work. Helena was trying to control the snow and the wind. There was someone with bug. Heavens there were so many bugs," which prompts a shudder to run through the woman. "Kazimir shot.. lasers from his hand at the bridge. That's what started the bridge falling." Matt can see it all in her head as she tries to go through it all. "then I ducked down and hid. and then the telporter tried again and.. brought kazimir to us"

Parkman's expression only gets more and more empathetic as Abby relates what she witnessed. He grits his teeth, letting his eyes stay closed in longer than average blinks as the images roll through his mind like a broken filmstrip.

"It was my job to touch him. That's all I had to do. A power amplifier holding one hand, once he got near the negator and was forced out of a body… and I did. He was all smoke and ash and darkness, black flames and there were faces coming and going in the smoke and I just put my hand in the middle of it all, I said my prayer and… he burned. He didn't hurt me. I don't think he could hurt me. It was just like they told me. He brings death and I… bring life and…" Yes, it's there, it's really there. The revulsion and the horror at what she did, the ashes falling on her face as he burned to nothing and the bonewrenching exhaustion that set in afterwards and haze.

"So you're saying that Kazimir Volken is gone," Parkman asks for clarification. "What happened next?" As tense as Abby is, the agent across from her tries his best to be visibly consoling.

"Kazimir Volken has gone to hell, where he belongs. I sent him there, with my own hands. He's dead." Incredibly numb. "I don't remember much. You're probably better at getting it from me. The nature of my gift leaves me.. tired, and that.. that was the most that I had ever done and I hope to never have to do again. I remember there was lightening and someone trying to get me away from where the bridge was collapsing. Lots of noise, and … and I slipped as the bridge started to fall. I was holding onto some re-bar that was exposed. There was Homeland Security yelling for us to put down our weapons.. there was.. there was some kind of numb feeling and I lost my grip and fell." There's nothing saying she has to stay put in her seat, so Abigail pushes her chair back, keeping her movement normal so that there's no people running in worried Parkman's gonna get attacked. She needs to move around, rub at her temples. I'll pay for it. When I die. I'll have to answer to God for what I did. I didn't' want to take a life, but it was the only way. He was a person, he was a monster, but.. it was him or 5 billion people. I'd do it again, if they couldn't find another person to take my place and I'm sorry, oh God I'm so sorry. Back and forth she moves in the room, "I fell into the river with others. I don't know where they are."

Parkman stays seated when Abby gets up to pace and try to calm herself, though he does push his chair away from the table and rest his elbows on his knees, hands clasped between them. "Thank you, Ms. Beauchamp," he says in a soft voice, with only the remnants of any official tone, "what you've told me is very, very helpful. But I have one last question, if you don't mind?"

"Go ahead Mr. Parkman," her voice cracking. Pace, pace, pace, the hem of her dress fluttering as she passes by. She wasn't kidding the previous night. Horrified.

"Do you have any idea how Phoenix found out about the sites where the Vanguard was attacking?" Parkman's own voice is steady if low, doing his best to calm the girl without invading her brain. "Take your time."

"I don't. Just that there was a doctor, who knew it all. Doctor Edward." He was there, that day, in the library. I'm not saying that you were there, I don't know if they know that you were there, that day, with the President Elect, a mental picture of Edward pops up. “Dr. Edward…" She's trying to bring the name up, she'd heard it before. "Dr. Edward Ray, I want to say, is his last name." She circles to the table to grab the red bull, the comfort of the cool cylinder, the red silver and blue painted aluminum.

The name is not a new one for the DHS concerning this case, and so Parkman simply nods before he stands. "I think that'll be enough for today." He walks over toward Abby, looking more like a sympathetic father than any scary government agent. "We might need to contact you again, so please stay in the city." Don't be scared, he mentally adds as he lifts a hand to her upper arm in an attempt to give her more comfort.

You did the right thing today. You did the right thing Wednesday. There's no reason to be scared.

You have my roommate. You're Homeland Security and even though your a good man Matt Parkman, and I'm a registered faith healer… I'm still scared. I was on a bridge, helping so called terrorists. I survived falling into a river from the bridge… I'm scared for my friends and whether I can afford to rent a new place by myself. I have.. a cat, and a bird and I'm living off the good graces of friends right now and trying to accept that I'm alive and not… dead She expected to be dead. I should be dead, not standing here.. doing the right thing "I won't be going anywhere. You have where I work, I can be found there, and you have my number. The curfew.. limits where I can go?" She doesn't move away from his touch, just eye to eye with him. "Is there anything else that you need while I'm here?"

Parkman shakes his head, rubbing his thumb against Abby's arm as she floods his mind with so many worries and fears. "I need to know that you'll be safe. We can help you, if you need it. Get you some time off work, put you up someplace where no one can find you. Do you want that?"

"You're not the first to offer Mr. Parkman. I can't accept. I'll be safe." I'm never safe, not as safe as I'd like but it's what I do. "Thank you though. If I ever need help, I'll call." Honest truth there. "I extend the same offer to you, that I've given SCOUT and everyone. You have my number. If someone's hurt, and they need to be back on the job, call. I'll come, if I can, and heal."

"There are plenty of people in the hospital who'd be grateful for it, I'm sure." Parkman smiles as he says it, then gives Abby's arm a small squeeze before he lets her go. "Thank you again."