Gabriel Gray Has Not And Never Will Impersonate Me


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Scene Title Gabriel Gray Has Not And Never Will Impersonate Me
Synopsis Eileen visits over breakfast to the Rivage to take up a conversation with Abigail and lever a few threats out of the conversation too.
Date July 21, 2010

Le Rivage - Abigail's Apartment

Sprung from the pages of an IKEA catalog, Red sueded couches, love seat, armchair, a comfortable cushioned recliner that doubles as a rocking chair. A black cat can be seen on occasion, perched atop something, same for a brown furry dog that promises to be bigger as time passes. Baby paraphernalia seems to be strung everywhere from burp cloths, onesies in a laundry basket beside diapers ready to use, a colorful swing and baby blankets.

Pictures on the wall of a blonde woman and two adults who look like her, blown up pictures of beautiful scenery. The kitchen is partially open to the main room, meticulous and clean, nothing out of place, a dining table and chairs in the dining area with flowers always in it's centerpiece.

A hallway leads to bathrooms and bedrooms, Three in total and one of which bears a gold cross hanging above it. Inside an antique arm chair in a black and red floral pattern, at odds with the rest of the room in it's pine, purple and cream theme. A painting hangs on the wall across from the bed by a long dead painter and worth a great deal of money. The other rooms unoccupied most of the time.

Somewhere, a budgie sings it's loving tune in it's spacious ornate cage.

Morning in the New York Beauchamp Household is at times, quiet. The two residents getting coffee going, showers, uniforms, hair done up, hair slicked back. Animals are fed, moved about, emails checked and out the door to drive to St. Lukes so that the day can be gotten on with. This morning, there's no work today, but Abigail is up none the less and by the time Eileen comes and has been invited in, taking care of animal and human alike.

Kasha in the sling so that she had both hands, breakfast has been laid out for Peter - Who only just came home an hour or so ago from his late night excursions - and now getting around to preparing kasha's meal. "If Peter's grumpy just kick him in the foot, he'll hush" From the corner of the livingroom, Pila resides in her large cage, everything a little budgie could desire and want, short of Teodoro.

"I'm glad I'm not on call today…" Seated at the kitchen table, Peter looks worn down, his breakfast being a supremely late dinner, his eyes darkly shadowed by bruise-like bags and his hair looking slept-in, wind-blown and in need of a washing. Holding his head up with on ehand, the other clinks a spoon against the plate where his scrambled eggs sit half eaten, little pieces of ham and cheese mixed in drawing the attention of his heavy, dark eyes.

It's been a long, tiring night, been a long and painful night. With everything that happened in Central Park weighing on his conscience on top of whatever it was Rupert and Rebel had to say, it's no surprise he looks as dragged under the bus as he does. Nearby to Peter, his red and black cell phone sits out on the table, the dark screen a constant fixation for his wandering eyes; he's clearly waiting for a call.

"You need any help?" with the baby isn't something Peter's willing to specify, but it seems like what he's offering despite himself.

It's still cool enough outside that the cardigan Eileen wears over her ruffled blouse and dark wool skirt, paired with a set of pragmatic black flats, protects her from the excess moisture in the crisp morning air, which manifests as a fine, misting rain and gathers in droplets on the apartment's windows. It beads in her hair, too, tied back into a loose knot and fastened in place with a series of black bobby pins and a white gardenia purchased from her favourite florist in Brooklyn.

Although the flower's petals rival her the colour of her skin in terms of paleness, she's looking healthier than she has in a long time. The cane she wields isn't the one that Abigail gave her, but that's probably understandable; you don't carry what Kazimir did without attracting attention, and attracting attention is something Eileen has tried to avoid for most of her life.

She uses it to nudge the front door shut behind her as Pila, behind the bars of her cage, darts a glance in the direction of Peter's cellphone.

"Yeah, you can get Eileen a plate and help her if she wants it and when you end up actually going to bed, you can get more than three hours sleep." The white cane seen, both she and Peter know what it means and it's puzzled her. Did something happen at the fountain that did this or is this just… something to throw off people from faux-leen. because quite obviously, after the fiasco last night, the Eileen she met in the Terminal, was not Eileen.

"I gotta feed Kasha, if there's anything you need Eileen, just let us know, we'll get it. Thanks for coming though." Formula tapped into the bottle from the scoop, mixing it with the warm water, finger over the nipple as she shakes it. "Are you the real Eileen, or am I talking to like.. Gabriel? And don't you dare lie to me. I don't deserve being lied to"

Abby's question has Peter wincing, covering the side of his face with one hand and shaking his head. Only now that Eileen's had a few moments in the apartment does Peter look up to her, offering a hesitant nod of his head and a smile that carries so many mixed emotions it could be called a jumble. For all that Peter looks like he's trying to stay out of the conversation, he's somewhat allowed himself into it as well by that comment.

Aware of what the phone can imply, Peter picks it up and sets down his fork so that his free hand can reach inside the the pocket of his paramedics jacket that hangs over the back of the chair. With is withdrawn from inside is a shiny tinfoil-looking plastic bag with a zip top. Open already, the cell phone is placed inside and a slide of fingers seal the opening.

Settling the faraday bag on the table, Peter pushes up to his feet with a scrape of the chair's feet across the floor, then looks up to Eileen with one brow raised expectantly and a nod to the stove where a skillet rests. Are you really hungry? it wordlessly implies.

Eileen's eyes track the sound of Abigail's voice, presenting an illusion of sight, but it's only just that: an illusion. When Peter lifts his brow at her, she fails to acknowledge the expression and says instead, "No thank you.

"I've eaten." She does not miss what he does with his cellphone, though the neutral expression on her face remains largely impassive. Winding her way through the apartment, she crosses the front of the kitchen table and moves past Peter to adopt a position near the closest window within view of the street, and although it's tempting to show them her back, she performs the small courtesy of keeping her body language open instead. "Why would you think that?"

Sigh. Why must people answer questions with questions. "Peter brought me a post-cognitive to Central park last night. When you see bodies, fresh destruction, Jensen, Gabriel and Teodoro talking about you and Raith asking for them to help buy him a week so that he can find you…" The silicone tip is teased across the infants lips who uses her fingers to clumsily help guide it into her mouth so she can have her breakfast too.

"And that you showed up in the Terminal the next morning, when I called to pass over some antibiotics that I got my hands on…" She fastens her eyes on Peter before letting her gaze drop over to the Briton.

"Are you Gabriel, or are you really, my Eileen? If you're Gabriel, then you're Gabriel and Eileen is… still missing and we have two missing people. Or you're Eileen and … there's a problem in the Ferry"

Clearing his throat, Peter suddenly looks like the cat that ate the canary, an unfashionable expression to wear around an avian telepath. "I didn't know about…" he mumbles as a half-spoken excuse before quietly returning to the table where his eggs are getting colder by the moment. Perhaps Eileen's iminent withering stare can reheat them back to proper eating temperature.

As Peter comes to sit, he scoots the chair back in and lifts up one hand, rubbing across his forehead and then looking down to the eggs as he grabs at the fork, prodding distractedly at them on his plate, trying his best not to make eye-contact with Eileen at all.

"I'm a little unclear as to why you're under the impression that what you saw indicates there's a problem with the Ferry," Eileen says, "assuming your postcognitive is reliable." She rests the tip of her cane against the floorboards without putting any weight on it. "The majority of the Remnant's work is unrelated to the network."

The angle of her chin is admittedly more reminiscent of Gabriel than it is the Englishwoman, especially when the glassy greens of her eyes settle on the man at the table and a mirthless smile forms on her lips. "We also have something of a messy tendency to leave bodies wherever we go. Peter can attest to that."

'Because of what lead me to ask Peter to bring the post cog Eileen" She'll keep calling her Eileen. it's either the woman or she's not. There's no Teodoro to corner and badger an answer out of, and Gabriel hasn't returned calls and Jensen.

Well. He's Jensen. She'd gone to him once already. So comes the reasoning, that Peter has heard once already before in his own apartment, of Susan, her and Delilah in Queens and overhearing the conversation all the way through to the in absentia state of the queens boys and the newspaper articles about the incident in central park.

"Tea with susan turned out… well, interesting" She leaves out that she had tea with susan. Or that Eileen was there as well.

Taking a moment to consider the spatial relations of the people int he room, Peter furrows his brows and then looks over to Abby. A moment later she feels a cooling pall draped over her in familiar touch of the ability negation that Peter is currently sporting. Best to keep her temperature down now while he can while at the same time not depriving Eileen of her avian telepathy, no reason to need to keep her from the birds, even less a reason were he aware she was blind.

Running his tongue over his lips, Peter picks up his plate and noisily clinks his fork down onto the surface before standing again. There's a feigned smile on his lips as he steps around Abby towards the trash bin, tipping the lid up and scraping the half of his breakfast he didn't eat into the garbage.

Clearing his throat to work out that lump in it, Peter shuffles around to the sink, setting his plate down inside as he mumbles, "I'll… wash that later, uh," brown eyes flick towards Eileen only momentarially before Peter sidesteps Abby and her borrowed baby before making his way across the kitchen.

Some battles are best fought anywhere else other than here, which is likely why Peter is heading towards his bedroom.

Eileen's response to Abigail's statement is a protracted stretch of silence. Outside on the street, a car splashes through a shallow puddle and sprays the children waiting for the school bus on the corner, creating a chorus of shrill squeals. Pila rumples her feathers and upstairs, floorboards creak as someone makes a final trek across the apartment on their way to work, departure punctuated by a slamming door.

"I'm beginning to think that the information Magnes gave me was wrong," she remarks to Abigail in a low voice that, although soft, isn't so quiet that Peter won't be able to hear what she says next. "He's a little too hangdog for the leader of a terrorist cell. Why are you involving Messiah in what you perceive to be Ferry business, Abigail?"

"I'm involving Peter" A glance to the fleeing man even as negation settles in, perfect timing. THe need to release some gas has the blonde easing the baby out of the sling and across her shoulder so she can rub her back. "Because Peter actually lives here with me right now, and is my partner in the ambulance and Peter had access to a post-cog. What occured is none of Messiah's business and he knows that I will tear his hide from his skin one inch at a time if Messiah even thinks to stick it's nose into this business"

That's Abby justification at least in this. "Where do you expect me to turn Eileen if I don't know who I can trust? When the woman has an ability that lends to persuasion, and who knows who she's talked to. Tell me it's not co-incidence that I overhear a conversation about Central Park being the chosen place and the day after, there's something that happened and I'm seeing Raith and Gabriel and Teodoro talking about you, and someone who took you and all that like?"

A small burp comes from the baby and not big enough to suit the blonde, glad that she has something to do with her hands. "Hana talked to her, I went to Wireless first and she said evvverything was fine, after she talked with Susan. I went to Jensen and he just brushed it all off, said he'd look into it. What would you do Eileen?"

Hesitating at his bedroom door, Peter slouches his head forward enough so that there's a clunk on the door. For just a moment he considers how to approach the conversation happening at his back. Wiping both of their memories and leaving the apartment almost seems like a good idea in that little part of Peter's mind where just snapping always hangs out. Instead, he reaches down for the doorknob, tiredly, and offers over his shoulder, "I'll be up for a bit longer…"

That much is for Abby's sake, because he isn't about to go anouncing her kindling-inducing capabilities around anyone else after the firm glare he got the last time. Without any leads on Teodoro's status yet from Rebel — and likely none to come till after Peter sleeps — there's nothing left for him to do but try and sleep for the first time in a day and a half.

Hopefully this won't disturb his eventual sleep.

"I'd trust their judgement," Eileen tells Abigail, "and not give a potential ally even more reason to believe there's a leak in our organization. Going directly to the man beneath Rupert Carmichael with your suspicions doesn't improve our image, and they're already at the point where they refuse to work with us because they're afraid we'll compromise their operation."

Abigail has never heard Eileen truly angry before. All the warmth leaves her voice, its texture growing honed and sharp. "What do you think is more important to him? Your relationship or Messiah and all the people he's responsible for?"

"I'm not you Eileen and have mercenaries and the like at your beck and call. Would you rather I have gone to Robert and asked him for his help? Involve the Linderman Group? I involved Francois and melissa, people who have ties to the Ferry. I went to peter for a god damned Post-Cog because I didn't know of one in the Ferry Eileen. I don't know what's more important to him Eileen, I'm not Kaylee. I can't read minds. I turn into Fire."

Abigail's smoothing of her hand into a circle comes a little faster as her own ire is being raised and lest something she doesn't want to happen happens, there's a lift of her hand as she exits the kitchen proper heading for her room and the swing within. Better to get the kid out of the way of any argument that might happen.

She's only gone a few moments, the sound of the straps securing the baby in and the swing going before she's coming back out and plunking herself in front of Eileen. "I went to the bloody Ferry first. Or are you going deaf Eileen. But either there really is nothing going on, or Susan's covering her tracks pretty damned well with her ability. But if you're far more better at knowing what to do then by all means enlighten me, because i'm just a medic and a bartender, not smart in the ways of being a super spy and everything else that you nad the others might be"

Eileen breathes in. Eileen breathes out. Her grip on her cane has tightened, hands conveying the emotions that she refuses to allow the muscles in her face to communicate. White knuckles shudder around its handle. "I'm going to say this once.

"I am Eileen Ruskin. You murdered someone I loved, and the only reason I haven't come after you for it is because I'd been pushing someone else to kill him and failed. The fact that I still call you my friend is in complete contradiction with my nature, and while this doesn't make my feelings toward you any less sincere, let me make one thing very clear: If I ever find out that you've compromised our network or the people under our protection, I will not hesitate to do to you what I was willing to do to Kazimir."

She steps forward, around Abigail. Feels her eyes move behind their lashes as she uses Pila's to keep them trained on the other woman. "Between you and I, there is a man named Anastazy Borkowski at the Pleasant View Nursing and Rehabilitation Center in Brooklyn. The next time you have reason to believe that Susan Ball is using her ability on one of our operatives, take the operative to him and he will tell you whether or not your suspicions are correct, but be sure that you bring someone with you who speaks Polish. He's suffering from dementia, and his English is very poor."

It's through Pila likely, that Eileen can see the look on Abby's face, looking away from the women while anger and who knows what else war for dominance on her face. Hands sink into the pockets of the jogging pants she's got on, turning on her heel away from Eileen when the other woman, heading for the kitchen. In truth, if Peter wasn't doing the Haitian thing, Rivage might very well have been in need of fire trucks. "Bring Hana to him. Odessa too." Lips pressed tight as she sets about to getting her own breakfast, lukewarm it may be and despite the fact that appetite is becoming a quickly fleeting thing.

"You won't need to worry about me compromising anything anymore" Her eye's sting, picking at the congealing bacon with more force than is necessary. Violence is not inherent with the blond, she tends to channel it in other ways. "You can remove my name from the nomination list. In light of everything it's best that I don't move forward with that. Better that I return to what I was doing before"

Eileen's footsteps carry her across the room, past Pila's cage. She does not even glance at Peter's door, and not because she hasn't the need to. It doesn't take her very long to arrive at where she came in or to consider the other woman's offer. No longer in the budgie's line-of-sight, she uses the tip of her cane to locate the doorframe and then her hand, fingertips following the shape of the molding until they brush against the handle.

"No." She presses down, the latch releases and the groan of hinges fills the hallway outside. "You were chosen for a reason, and not one of us on that council can say that we've never made a mistake. I've more on my life's record than you."

"I'm not ready for it Eileen and I'm not cut out for it" Repeated back again. "Maybe another time, some other day, but right now, I can't even trust anyone in the Ferry and y'all don't need someone who's doesn't trust the other council members and I don't trust Susan, anyone who's talked with her recently nor my own actions right now. Tell them I'm too busy with work, and the bar and personal issues but I'm grateful for even having been considered" She should see the other woman out.

The eggs in the pan are considered, then dismissed, plate going down onto the counter with a clunk. This was not how she saw this going. Not in the least. "You should go. Huruma will be here soon for Kasha and I need to go." Go blow up in mid town, fetch her vehicle back from Staten Island. Get groceries and pretend that her life is absolutely perfectly normal.

"Tell Gabriel that next time, he can tell me himself, that he doesn't want to help, or can't help, instead of pretending to be you. Let him know I'm sorry I put negation drugs in his tea. It won't happen again"

"We're holding the first council meeting the day after tomorrow. Take the time to ask yourself if this is what you really want, and if you're right about Ball what that's going to mean. Vacate your seat and she'll fill it." Eileen steps out into the hall and takes a moment to orient herself, a hand with fingers splayed resting against the wall as she turns her head back toward the door and Abigail.

"I don't trust her either," she says, "which is one of the reasons why I've chosen to serve alongside her. You are ready. Believe what you want about the network needing you, but I do too, and I don't want to do this alone."

The tips of her fingers curl and she eases away from the wall. "Gabriel Gray has not and never will impersonate me."

"If I'm right about Ball" She doesn't know what she's right about between Eileen's vehement denial that Gabriel impersonated her and the confession that she doesn't trust her either.

"I have to get the baby ready" Turning away from the door, tattoo's contrasting darkly against pale skin, heading off to her bedroom. "Y'all have a good day, god bless and watch over you" Tossed over her shoulder in parting words that Eileen knows she means, ninety-nine percent of the time. No word on whether she'll think on it or not. Right now, she just wants distance between her and Eileen.

Wordlessly, Eileen acquiesces and allows the sound of her retreating footsteps to serve as her farewell. If there's no God in the sky to watch over her, then the birds will.

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