Going Down with the Ship


abby_icon.gif bennet_icon.gif cat_icon.gif eileen_icon.gif lynette2_icon.gif patrick_icon.gif scott_icon.gif

Scene Title Going Down with the Ship
Synopsis Lynette seeks the advice of some of the network's council.
Date September 13, 2010

Gun Hill: Lynette's Apartment

Luckily, Lynette's apartment has a lot of places to sit. The living room and dining room serve as one big meeting place, it's almost like she planned it that way. Drinks sit out, of the non-alcoholic variety, as well as some hastily gathered snacks, because Lynette doesn't like to have people over without feeding them.

When everyone's gathered, the blonde doesn't actually sit herself, but seems to be partaking of some nervous pacing. The woman has a lit cigarette in hand, with a few butts littering the ashtray sitting in the living room. But at the moment, it's more of a gesturing tool than anything else.

"So, I wanted to thank you all for coming, I just… I have a little issue I wanted to talk out with you all so we can find some… plan that keeps my building safe. And the people in her."

With his lean frame settled back in an armchair, his ankle resting on the opposite knee, Patrick Hale looks comfortable enough, his hand around a can of Coke that was accepted and given thanks for. Just off work for the next few days, he didn't take the time to get out of his usual firefighter's "uniform," so he's in jeans and tennis shoes, a blue polo shirt with "LBFD" emblazoned on the chest. He raises the can to his lips for a sip, then rests it lightly on the arm of the chair, fingers lightly curled around it to keep it from getting accidentally knocked over.

"I'm late to the party and all, just coming off work — any new danger that I'm not aware of, since Varlane had his troubles?" he asks.

"We're keeping an eye on him," is a smooth answer from a man perched on the arm of the sofa casually, hands folded in front of himself and the light from the ceiling lamps reflecting in the lenses of his horn-rimmed glasses. With Noah Bennet staring squarely at Lynette, there's a penetrating look on his face, one of uncertainty mixed with appraising caution, as if he knows something and is waiting to see if it is relevant. "I am concerned about the nature of this meeting, however, what with our guests of honor staying here…" Noah still has the faintest edges of a black eye from having to negotiate with Hana Gitelman about the Company agents staying here, after all.

"Not looking forward to getting another shiner, are we Bennet?" The unusually tongue-in-cheek response comes from Scott Harkness, seated in a plush armchair not far from Bennet, cradling a cup of coffee betwen both weathered hands. "If this is security concerns about the new guests… well," Scott offers a look to Noah, brows furrowed, then back to Lynette. "Let's hear what needs be heard first. Maybe we're all on the same page." Maybe not, his tone implies.
Staten island to queens and every stop in between to flash her ID's and registration to get there, Abigail abandoned Peter at Melissa's barbecue, and was frankly glad that she did. Too many people, and not in the mood to meet strangers or hob nob with rupert or other Messiah folks. Peter can kick her ass later. "Hana can reign her temper in, if this is what it's about since she obviously stated her opinion on the matter once and I don't think myself or Delia can sneak Noah into anyplace for x-rays for a fractured cheekbone or fix his nose"

Abigail's parked at a seat, Khaki skirt, shirt, zipped up hoodie with the strap of her monitor peeking up. "I have something else too, but It can wait, till after Lynette"

In jeans, a Yale t-shirt, comfortable shoes, hair loose now that the heat has lessened and made having it down more comfortable, Cat is seated across from Bennet with her legs crossed at the ankles. Calm curiosity is the projected demeanor as she listens while people speak. With the order of things being to let Lynette make her pitch and comment afterward, there's no perceived need to vocalize yet.

But Cat does perhaps have something other than this piece of business on her mind. Two plain envelopes, sealed with nothing written on them, are held in hand. She might even have positioned herself to catch one or more of the councillors when the meeting concludes.

Leaning into the sill of one of the apartments windows, Eileen gives Lynette her attention — or rather, she gives Lynette the attention of the wren perched on her coat's collar. The brown dress she wears beneath it is only a few shades darker and matches the leather flats on her feet and the felt cloche hat on her head, flyaway strands of hair pinned back into a tiny bun at the nape of her neck. The feathers sticking out of the hat's band, accented by a black flower made from a thinner, gauzier material than the hat itself, look like they might have belonged to a pheasant at one point with their golden hues barred brown and black. They're hers, now.

She removes the lambskin gloves from her hands as the others speak, and slip them into her coat pocket.

"It's not really about them. Although, I suppose their presence has made it a little more… More in the forefront of my mind, at least," Lynette says toward Noah and Scott, and while there's a moment of hesitation, during which the woman stares intently at her cigarette, she looks back to the others with a more frank expression.

"The fact of the matter is… the Institute knows who I am and what I can so and my name, and where I live and I don't really know what to do about it. So far, advice has ranged from… register and get myself legal so there's no reason to break down the door… to run, hide, change my name, disappear. Sort of thing. The problem is… I care about this safehouse and I don't want to abandon it. But. Especially with our new… friends here. I feel like I'm putting a lot at risk."

The firefighter nods, slowly, reaching with his free hand to rub the back of his neck. "Ah, that's right, I'm sorry… just got off work, name and locale didn't connect in my thick head," he says amiably, but frowns a little as the dilemma registers. "My guess'd be that if they haven't come back for you yet, they might have gotten what they wanted — no offense, miss — and might be all right leaving you be. The other thing we could possibly do is make a show of you moving, get you on paper as living somewhere else, and then have you here helping to run the safehouse as both its mistress and sorta one of its refugees at the same time? Possibly. Obviously, it's not a perfect fit, but we got Toby here, too, right, so there is someone who could be legally on the books, besides you."

"The Institute is a concern for most of us, I agree,' is Noah's amenable sentiments to Lynette's worry. "Patrick has a point as well, in that the Institute may have gotten all that they need from you. Don't forget that we as a network dealt them a critical blow with the removal of the Staten Island Hospital, even if the government looked to be on the move to clean up the situation themselves as well. We may, at the very least, have the element of time on our side."

Looking around the room, Noah's brows furrow and his eyes avert down to the table top. "That said, you do have a point. Remaining unregistered poses a risk to everyone in this building if you were found out, and given the nature of the guests here that could prove increasingly problematic. Registering could also put you back on the Institute's radar, but remember that they took you from nearby to this building. They may well have known about Gun Hill all along… which, was taken into account when the Company agents were placed here."

Looking to Scott with a silent uncertainty, the older man's nod gives Noah affirmation to continue as he looks back and over to Lynette. "In a matter of raw, cold numbers, the loss of Gun Hill would be least crippling to the network out of all of its safehouses. That, however, does not mean that we do not care about the safety of its personnel. I think at the moment Registration may be the best option, and if problems arise from it than we'll rise to meet them in turn. But sitting unregistered as a publicly attached figure to this sfaehouse is not an option. You wouldn't even be able to transfer ownership of Gun Hill, legally, to anyone else without an updated Registry. You'd have to disappear, and even then that could alert suspicion…"

Exhaling a sigh, Scott stares down into his coffee cup and wrings his hands together. "Either way, we're on a timer here because of the guests from the Company. There's a problem related to them that we're not yet ready to discuss with the council until we have every piece of available information, but what I can say is that they may have to go somewhere else if we can't resolve it. This isn't an easily answered situation, Lynette… no way you slice it."

"Institute is actively hunting company agents. If they manage to track down the few that we have harbored at Gunn Hill they may just take a swipe at Lynette, because of her proximity or because they think she's the one that offered them succor" Abigail speaks up. "Odessa is one of them, alive and well and an institute agent. Which means that Gun Hill really is already on their radar"

To register or not to register. "Do we have someone who might not object to taking over Gun hill, if Lynette chooses to step down?"
"Registration may not actually be possible for you, Lynette," Cat opines, "for the same potential reasons they've not come looking for you. They might think you're dead and have reported that death to various agencies. If they think you're alive, odds are a move would've been made by now to snatch you back up. You're a witness to their actions, and I don't think they want any of those roaming around. If, however, they think you're alive and here, odds are they'd not try to take you out of the building itself, because there'd be witnesses."

Abby's statement about Odessa draws a glance from Cat, a raise of eyebrows as if wondering how she knew that, and in that moment fingers move those two envelopes slightly.

Odessa's name causes a visible tightening in Eileen's hands and mouth. "Childs has gone into hiding," she says, "and left the Lighthouse to Fulk and Doyle. We should also take into consideration the vision archive that's been put together and the implications of what our operatives saw. If what Colette recorded comes to pass, it may not ultimately matter what we do over the next two months, but I'm of the opinion that we should start shutting down the safehouse and locate another property for Rowan and Benton-Ward to manage after the eighth has passed and we know where the network stands.

"I also think," she adds, her words addressed to Lynette rather than the room as a whole, "that you should consult Pastor Sumter about your position regardless of what's discussed here. He was held by the Institute at the same time you and Childs were, and last year he encountered similar difficulties with his church and Humanis First. He may be able to offer better insight than those of us who haven't faced what you are now."

"You're saying my safehouse… is an acceptable loss." Lynette doesn't exactly sound mad there, but then, some anger burns cold where others flare up. "Maybe to you all it is, but it isn't to me. If this building is considered too far on the radar, then why aren't we all moving somewhere safer?"

Her gaze flicks over to Cat at her addition, and she pauses for a moment before she actually partakes of that cigarette with a muttered, "Jesus Christ." Seems that hadn't occurred to her before. And the news about Odessa doesn't make her any happier. But she doesn't add anything else until after Eileen speaks, a frown on her face. "I know we're here on November eighth. Those visions, we were here. And I'm… trying to take measures to make the building safer. Give everyone a chance to get to safety before anyone makes their way in." With a sigh and a moment to rub her face, she nods to those last words, "I think that sounds like a good idea."

"That safehouse has been compromised already, Lynette, and we have to cut our losses before we have more of them. Which is really what we care about, right? It's why we're here," Patrick says, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees and looking across at her, brows quirking in sympathy. "We're not saying you are expendable, or the people in it — not even the Company refugees, but it made sense to put them the place already compromised. One of them could be working from the Institute's side, after all — we don't know for certain."

That said, he nods to Abby. "How d'we know she's alive?"

Were Noah to have a special Evolved ability, right now it would be flay Abigail Beauchamp alive with a stare. Possibly a related power to Adrianne Lancaster's. The look of gaping and abject confusion that Noah is giving Abby is one of complete and utter surprise and disappointment. "When— " he actually falters on that, distracted from the topic of Gun Hill entirely by the notion that a former member of the Ferrymen is now working with the Commonwealth Institute.

"When did you find out that Odessa was alive?" Noah's voice has the tone of a reproachful parent, and were it not for Patrick asking the question of how, Noah would probably be barking that question at her as well. "That Odessa was not only alive but also working for the Institute should have been an emergency bulletin to the council the moment it filtered into your ears, Abigail. That is— " Noah looks down to the table, breathing in slowly as a vein throbs on the side of his head.

"Elaborate," is Scott's single-word demand of Abby, both brows lifted. "Because if Gun Hill wasn't compromised already, the fact that Price is working with the enemy is damned certain to have put this safe house on the compromised list. We have Company Agents staying here, were hte Institute to knock on these doors…" there's a slow shake of Scott's head as he looks to Eileen, brows furrowed in scrutiny, then back to Abigail. "Forgetting the fact that Ruskin said that she saw Odessa's corpse…"

"No safehouse is an acceptable Loss Lynette. The Den was not an acceptable loss even though it was created for the express purpose of being a throw away. It hurts the network each time one is lost. But it's one that is the least connected officially, to the Ferry" Abby points out. 'And it happens. It's a matter fo triaging what can be lost with the least impact to the whole. Like removing a gangreous limb before it can effect the whole body. not that that's the greatest thing to compare it to but…" But.

BUT.. there people are getting mad at her and there go shoulders, curling inwards and somewhere on her person, there's numbers starting to creep up. "On the way over here…" She's digging into the pocket of her hoodie, bringing out the folded white envelope with her first and last name on it. "Courier dropped it off at the front desk for me, when I stopped by on the way here." It's slide across the table for Noah to take, a look to Scott with the whole elaborate.

"Company agents who turned. Odessa Knutson, also known as Odessa Price. Desmond Harper, but we already knew that. Veronica Sawyer, Lucas Eldridge, Olivia Roland" Abigail straightens her back, trying to regain her spine.


The name familiar to maybe three people in here. "We also know him as the Haitian. Elle Bishop is also institute, and Darren Stevens, the doctor from St. Lukes that we harbored in the Terminal, is apparently working with him. He went to the company, at my urging, to avoid prosecution for the murders that he was made to do. I found out a few weeks ago that the Company had taken him, appropriated him. He has the ability to resurrect individuals, provided there is other life near him that he can siphon it from. Odds are, he ressurected Elle, he ressurected Odessa, or Odessa stopped time around herself, I'm sure there's a reason. We know dead people don't always stay dead" Liz. Teo. Cardinal. Francois."

Abigail glances aroudn the table. 'So please, lets not yell at the flame mimic who hasn't had her negation pills and really doesn't want to ignite and burn yet another building"

"I was given the same notice," Cat provides in a dry voice, "in much the same fashion. This is the earliest opportunity to share the word, which I see now I wasn't alone in getting. One wonders who else might be so warned…" There her voice trails off, the printed material being called up in her mind as she demonstrates the two envelopes. "I had meant to speak with Eileen and Noah alone first, to gather information on the alleged death of Odessa and advise of Rene's involvement before making it more widely known. The warning I was given also cites Dante Lupinetti and Isabella Dawson."

Moments later, her eyes closing and seeming mildly shamed, Cat murmurs "I regret not having slit Odessa's throat and putting her corpse where it would never be found at each of the several times I've had the chance."

Cat vocalizes what Eileen is thinking, but still the Englishwoman says nothing. The wren on her shoulder flicks black eyes between Bennet, Lynette and Abigail, and gives an agitated flicker of its wings. She is otherwise silent, a solemn silhouette in the window frame with arms folded across her breast and small hands curled around either bicep. On the subject of Odessa, her allegiances and how she's still alive when she should be dead, she either has nothing to contribute to the dialgoue or nothing that she desires to.

"No, I understand all that," Lynette says to Patrick, "I really do. And I know you all have the whole of the Ferry to worry over. But this little patch and the people in it are what I worry about. And now? It's pretty much all I have. Particularly if I end up staying unregistered."

And she might go on, really, but Abby gets her attention rather fully. The others may be worried about Odessa, but that's just a name on a piece of paper to her. No, there's another name entirely that gets Lynette's brow to furrow. "I'm… sorry. Did you say Veronica Sawyer? Veronica Sawyer." It's surprise to say the least, and some disbelief mixed in, too.

The tensions of the others keep Patrick mostly quiet, letting the two young women who know more on this matter, do the speaking. He nods to Lynette, with a sympathetic grimace. He certainly doesn't want to cause the woman any more pain — she's been through enough. "Most the people there weren't in safe keeping, from my understanding, just helping you out. I'm sure you won't lose them, even if the safehouse is lost, Lyn," he says gently, then glances over at Cat and Abby to answer Lynette's question on the one name she echoes.

There's no shouting, there's no withering stares, there's nothing short of stoic silence that paints itself across Noah Bennet's face because of one, singular name that comes up in the list of names of Institute operatives that betrayed the Company. Suddenly, everything makes a terrible kind of sense. The leak in Russia that had informed the Institute about the location of the team trying to save Ivan Spektor was Rene all along. The leak wasn't ever even in the Ferry, and for all that the promise of a leak was Rupert Carmichael's feint to try and keep Messiah and the Ferrymen apart, truth is sometimes stranger than fiction. There really was a leak, and it came from Noah Bennet.

"If… you'll excuse me," Noah quietly states as he pushes his chair back from the table and moves to stand. There's nothign else he says, no permission to leave waited for, he just reaches inside of his jacket and withdraws his cell phone, slides it open and begins to quietly deliver a text message with slowly hunting and pecking thumbs as he makes his way to the front door.

That vein on his forehead looks ready to burst.

Watching Noah leave, Scott's eyes grow wide and then narrow. Breathing a deep sigh out, he slouches forward and lifts his hands from his coffee mug to cup over his mouth, then sweep back up over his forehead and rakes fingers thorugh his hair. Silent for a long while, Scott just stares at the table and tries to weigh all of that against the facts. "Lynette we can't force you to close this safe house down, but I can ask you to seriously consider the future repercussions of everything going on and take it under advisement that it may not be safe here any longer. What you opt to do is entirely your choice, if you think you can maintain this safehouse as is than we'll trust your judgement, but I advise against it."

Looking to Abigail, Scott has a briefly apologetic expression on his face, as if making excuses for Noah's behavior. When his attention shifts to Cat, it's only to take the focus off of Abby. "I'd like a copy of that letter electronically submitted to Wireless for dissemination through the entire network along with any photographs we might be able to find for associate with these individuals."

One look is given to the apartment door as it opens and Noah steps out, slamming it shut behind himself. This is a terrible turn of events.

"Veronica Sawyer, I think, sent this. I've dealt with her before, she was a regular at my bar and on occasion came to me for healing, or I went to her when I needed something. She saw fit on a few occasions to slip me information so that I wouldn't be clueless on the streets" Abigail watches Noah go, brows crimped down down down and in, the numbers on her cell hovering into the just warm. No higher. "You can have mine scott and Lynette, you can come stay at my place, if you need to, I have a spare room"

Her eyes track Noah's reaction, nothing being said until the door slams, then they shift back toward Abby and Lynette. "It might be Sawyer," Cat remarks. "Do you know a Veronica Sawyer, Lynette? The one we're talking about is five-five, athletic, with dark hair and a Mediterranean or Adriatic skin tone."

Three hundred million people in the US, and millions more in other English speaking nations, there's got to be thousands of Veronica Sawyers, but it still might be the same one Lynette knows. In Cat World, coincidences are the exception.

Not the rule.

Sharp footfalls mark Eileen's departure from the window. She dips her head in silent apology, excusing herself from the room with body language rather than words, one hand at the front of her coat with long, pale fingers curled around the lapels to hold it closed as she follows Bennet out. She trusts her fellow council members to address Lynette's concerns.

What she does not trust are Bennet's emotions. When she hits the apartment's threshold, she pauses in the doorway, free hand lightly clutching its wooden frame. The wren on her shoulder cranes its angular head around it, and a moment later the woman follows, disappearing into the hall.

The door clicks gently shut behind her.

"I'm afraid that sounds exactly like her. She and I… have known each other since we were children." Lynette has to sit. Which she does sort of shakily. But luckily, Scott gives her something else to focus on. "I'll give it some serious thought. I just don't want to leave these people with nowhere to go. Or risk another safehouse in all this. I'll let you all know what Toby and I decide."

She glances over to Patrick, lifting an eyebrow, "You bet your ass I'm not going to lose them. These people depend on me and I'm not going to let them down." She pauses a moment for a cigarette break. Sorry everybody. >.> But her attention turns to Abby. "I…" It's a generous offer… but Lynette looks downright hesitant. "I'll let you know if it's needed. For now, if this place is in danger, I'm staying just like everyone else. Captain… with the ship sort of thing."

As the captain of his fire battalion, Patrick can respect that, and he gives a nod, after glancing at the door following the dramatic exit of one councilman, followed by the quieter one, of another. "I think, then, if you're resolved to stay, we'll keep just the Company agents there who need safe keeping, let the Ferry members who are there know it's possibly dangerous, and up to them to stay or go, and … are there any normal residents, actually paying rent yet?" He glances at the others, unsure on that detail.

"And not put anyone new, anyone in legitimate need of our help, there, at least for the time being. There are safer safehouses — for the time being. And see where we go from there." He glances to the others, to see what their opinions are, now that their founder has fled, presumably to talk to the other.

"It's all people cleared with the Ferry or residents in our care here at the moment, since Magnes and his girlfriend moved out," Scott explains as he offers a look to where Eileen had departed, then back to the room as he exhales a sigh and wraps his hands around his cup of again, only half finished. "I'm sorry about how all this has gone, Rowan." A latticework of blue light envelops Scott's coffee cup before it dematerializes, only then does the Safehouse operator slowly rise from his seat with a scuff of the chair.

"But I know what it takes for an Operator to stick with their safehouse through thick and thin," and that much has a frown creasing Scott's lips as he looks askance to the door again, then back to Lynette. "I think I've said all I can about this. It's in Lynette and Toby's hands now…"

"He's right, It's up to you and Toby, it's your safehouse. But the people residing there should know so they can make the choice to move to another or remain and support you" Abigail adds in, watching Eileen follow Noah. She has her own severe worries with Rene being institute. Had he told them about her ability? Cross reference with her card stating non-evolved… The disappearing coffee cup make her wonder about other things but Abigail sits, working on her breathing and waiting for anything else that might pop up. Not burn something else.

Eyes track Eileen's departure after Noah, and the behavior she exhibits in doing so. Cat's head tilts, that was odd, but she doesn't address it. Instead, attention briefly goes back to Lynette as she speaks of probability it's the same Veronica, and an attempt is made to verify. Her iPhone is used to access the internet and the registry, to bring up Sawyer's tier one entry and show the photo.

There's nothing to add on the subject of renters, there weren't any signed leases on file when she checked out the legal documents some time ago.

"If it's compromises already, then I'm the perfect person to stay with it. And if it ends up just me and the Company refugees, that's okay, too. I'll take care of letting the people here know what's going on and letting them make their own decisions. I just— Thanks." That last is said toward Scott. "For the advice."

When Veronica's picture shows up, Lynette stands up to her feet, letting out a sigh. "Who else needs a martini? I know I do." Maybe it'll help her stop picturing a much younger Veronica trying to learn to put on make up like the 'cool older girls' Lynette was a part of. God.

"Not me, I gotta drive back to Long Island," Patrick says, ever the law-abider, except for the terrorist bit. He scuff his hand over his forehead and heaves a sigh, glancing at the others. "That sounds all right to me — I think most of the folks there are pretty self sufficient types, and Doyle got the kids out a long time ago — Company agents, all the girls, and Sumter, yeah? Should be fine, I guess, 'cept for the few that aren't registered, and they can make their choice. If they don't wanna stay, we have other places for them."

"Nichols talked to me recently about what's happening to the Garden, if we do have to break this place down, I have some ideas on rearrangement." Offered quietly as Scott retrieves his jacket from the back of his chair and swings it over his shoulders, there's a look offered to Lynette that is the closest thing to silent sympathy that can be offered. Exhaling a sigh through his nose, Scott slides the coat on and flips up the collar to the back of his neck.

"I'm headed back to Greenwich, anyone who wants a ride's welcome to climb in the truck," Scott's dark eyes drift askance to look at Patrick, then over to Abby. "He wasn't upset at you," is the closest to an apology from Noah that Abby will ever get, and as Scott turns towards the door, theres' no good feeling in the air to be had. With a shake of his wrist and a flash of blue-white light, Scott's keys manifest in his hands, swinging by the ring around one finger before being grasped in a closed fist.

There's nothing more he can say.

She'll take it, even if it's from Scott, and not that it's really necessary. Bad news is never well received. "I'm headed to financial district, you want in with me, head for the SUV" She offers up, gathering herself and getting up from the chair so she can start heading out too. Curfew will land soon, and she can't use on call as an excuse too often.

No ride is needed. While Scott speaks of returning to Greenwich and Abby is also offering transport, Cat busies herself sending the message regarding Institute members and asking for anything that can be dug up about them to Wireless. Once that's done, she's making for the door. "See you soon, Lynette," she offers.

Maybe tomorrow she can track down and catch both Eileen and Noah.

Given that people are heading to the door, Martini Time is put on hold so Lynette can see them out, like a good hostess. With waves and goodbyes and thanks and well wishes. It's all very polite and lovely. But when the door closes behind everyone… she turns on her heel to head straight for the liquor cabinet. Oof.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License