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| Scene Title | Here Comes The Night |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Some grudges are hard to hold, some pains are difficult to overcome. Adam Monroe is tired of fighting, and he draws the line with his disciple. |
| Date | December 10, 2009 |
Mt.Sinai Hospital
Dim yellow light is afforded to the coffee colored walls of a hospital room reserved for "Simon Everson," an alias laid upon a man who once made it his life to masquerade as others. Soft digital beeps accompany the hiss-click of a breathing apparatus in the room, while the natural sounds of rain gently pattering on the windows contrasts to it. This entire display is one of contrasts; mechanical and natural, life and death, old and young.
Laid out in a hospital bed, arms limp at his sides atop the blankets, the man they claim is Simon Everson never went by that monicker. A tube now down his throat taped to his mouth aids with his breathing, and the accordion expansion of a pump at his bedside keeps him ventilated. Maury Parkman was many things, in his time with the Company, an invalid never one of them. Now, though, he's come this far down the end of his journey.
Reflected in the glass of the hospital room window, a comparatively young-looking blonde man stands at the foot of Maury's bed, dressed appropriately in black as a mourner or a the fictional reaper would. It's appropriate for both, as is his reason for being here.
Seeing Maury like this, strung up to a series of machines designed to help filter his bladder into a halfway amber-filled plastic bag hanging at the side of his bed, aid his lungs in the simple task of breathing, and keep him alive almost seems cruel. It is no fault of the body that put him here, if his medical charts are to be believed. Maury Parkman simply isn't there anymore, listed as brain dead. This, under the government's careful watch.
The rain blows harder with a gust of wind, pattering more noisily against the window. Those dim lamps shedding that goldenrod light about the walls do little to favorable light the old man's face, making him seem more weathered and worn down that Adam Monroe remembers him. But there are so many things in this world that aren't the same way Adam remembers them. More and more by the day.
It's the curse of his blessing; to watch everything he knows fall apart. Nothing lasts.
Adam stays that way for some time. He stand at the foot of the bed without reacting, his head bowed almost as if in prayer, but not. But he studies the contours of the older looking man's face and the weakness he sees there and he tries to find that one glimpse of the past that he can remember. His head drops a bit, because he can't see it."
Stepping quietly from the foot of the bed, he makes his way towards a chair with a slow, quiet pace and sits down after unbuttoning the bottom of his jacket. He hangs his head low and he looks…tired. His hands fall to his knees as if to hold him up and he asks himself, or the other man in the room, "How did we even get here, Maury? I barely have it in me to do this. I've held on to grudges for centuries and this one burns out so much more quickly." his lips purse as he leans back for a moment, "I don't even know if it's worth it anymore. I don't know that I have the hate in me anymore, Maury. I'm just so damned tired." he lets out a sigh and shakes his head.
"They're almost all gone, Maury." he comments without looking at the bed, then he amends himself, "We're almost all gone." and then, he admits something quiet, "I don't know that I ever cared for you that much, Maury, but I don't know that I ever hated you either." his lips purse, "So I don't even know why I'm in this room right now."
The respirator answers Adam's question with a mechanical series of clicks, followed by a pressurized hiss. The EKG beeps its reply with a steady cadence, a conversationalist of only fair capability. Maury remains motionless, perhaps listening to the sound of that falling rain against the window and the way the wind drives it harder. Here, disciple and teacher are together without fangs bared or weapons drawn for the first time in decades. A generation has divided them, changed their allegiances and their intentions. Maury drove himself in one direction, and Adam another, the wedge of time so familiarly smashed between where they stood and where they stand now.
But there is no easy answer. No easy truth. Just the series of clicks and a long, drawn-out hiss that comes from the respirator, echoing in Adam's ears. How did it come to this? It's as good a question as any to ask, but there's no one here to truly answer that question. All that is left are Adam's memories, fading scraps of recollection of a time long since gone by…
Los Angeles, California
June 17, 1969
"Who's a good boy… yes, yes you are!" The cooing tone of voice is a bit ridiculous, but there's something to be said for the ability of a proud father to embarrass himself in front of his own offspring. Cradling an infant in his arms, a tall and broad-shouldered man with short-cropped dark hair moves to stand in front of bay windows that rattle with the patter of soft rain. "Hey there, hey, heeey…" Brows raised and a goofy smile on his face, Maury Parkman stares down at the swaddled and chubby baby he carries with the smile only a father can bear. One thick finger brushes against the baby's lips, head canted to the side and focus solely on his son.
The the sound of a knock on the door, a woman's voice calls out from across the house. It's muffled, mostly from distance, and when the sound of a door opening comes, a hushed conversation of greeting happens well out of line of sight. Sight, though, isn't truly needed for Maury to know what was said. Expectantly turning, the senior Parkman looks towards the doorway to the living room, one brow raised, waiting for his guest to arrive.
Adam looks the same. Frankly, Adam always looks the same. Although, he wears his hair a bit different, slightly longer, a tad shaggier and he sports a button down shirt with an obnoxious array of colors and a pair of pants that are much too tight at the thighs, but swell out at the ankles. To wit, he looks like just about everyone else in 1969. He's carrying a gift, a small potted plant which is taken away by the woman who's voice is heard, but not seen. It was the pleasant thing to do, the polite thing to do, but that's not why Adam is here.
He walks into the living room with a casual gait, more carefree and cocky than he exhibits even forty years later. He glances around and spies the older man with the baby in his arms. A brow lifts and just the slightest moment of distaste crosses his features. But still, he turns and makes his way over, "Allo, Maury." he says casually as he walks over, "And look, it's baby Matthew." he glances at the child for a moment and says, "You appear quite good with him." but this is all small talk, casual conversation to ease into the rough stuff, both men are aware of that.
"Adam," Maury offers with a bit of an uneasy edge, but only in the way employees get when their boss visits their cubicle and they're not working. "S'good t'see you…" Brown eyes drift away from the blonde and down to that bald-headed baby in his arms. "Matty here's a pretty easy guy t'get along with, you know." He turns to look back up at Adam, holding a little hand in his, waggling it from left to right. "Say hi t'uncle Adam, Matty. Say hi!" A crooked smile falls on Maury's face as he looks to the doorway into the kitchen, focus meeting his wife's back briefly, before looking back up at Adam.
"She won't bother us," Maury admits with the certainty of a man who knows things. "What brings you by here, Adam? I told Angela that we'd be another week or two, I thought that got passed down? I— " Dark eyes dart to the rain on the window, then back to Adam. "It's only been a week, and you know how his mother is. I promise though, once she's feeling back to good I'll be working my tail off again…"
There's things in life that can change a man's perspective, change the way they live their lives or the goals they have for the future. Children, in a way, are one such thing.
Adam tilts his head for a moment at the wave. It's the look of a man who's not used to dealing with children and is slightly confused on how to react. "Well, hello." he says to the baby before turning back to Maury, "Well, Maury." he says thoughtfully and languidly after the explanation, "This isn't about work, at least not work proper. Should we sit?" and then he does, falling easily onto a couch, "This is about us discussing the future." he's quiet for a few moments as he focuses on the baby, "I thought, now might be the time that you seriously start considering the future, what with your new responsibilities." he crosses one leg over the other and leans back.
"Actually, Maury, I wondered if you'd considered the sort of future little Matthew has there?" his lips purse, "You've got the Russians and the Americans gearing up for World War Three, the Chinese pushing all these buttons out in Southeast Asia. Israel's at war with the entire Middle East and for God's sakes, Nixon took the white house." he shakes his head for a moment, "Matty will be lucky if the world's not charred rock before his tenth birthday."
"You and I both know Nixon was a compromise that we had to make. It's a shame what happened to Robert, but we had to think of the good of people like us." Maury's brows furrow, and perhaps in that admission there's a bit of an answer. Looking down to Matt in his arms, he seems to have a difficult time determining the answer Adam wants to hear, even if he has one of his own in mind. "We…" A false start makes his argument seem weak, "We're doing plenty of good," Maury admits half-heartedly. "Things— things aren't as bad as you're always makin' them out t'be, Adam. I— I'm not usre…"
Looking back down to his son in his arms, the notion does come off as a bit more pronounced now that he has something vested in this world. "We'd see it coming…" the words are spoken quietly, "wouldn't we?" Maury's dark eyes search Adam's far lighter ones in that questioning of the Company's power. "We're doing all we can, I— I'm not sure what you're getting at."
"Are we? Are we really doing all we can? Or are we compromising so much that we might as well have not acted in the first place? We're plugging holes in a broken dam." he's quiet for a moment as he leans back lightly, "We can't be everywhere, we just can't. We've been missing things and we'll keep missing things and we'll make more compromises. We can't see everything coming because we're letting too much get out of our hands." he frowns a moment, "And you know it, too. We all know it, even Kaito. Kaito just accepts it because he's not willing to go that extra step."
He frowns a moment, "Think about it, Maury. What do you do when a tree is rotting from the inside? When the disease has gotten so bad that it's going to collapse on its own eventually?" he pauses a moment, then upon figuring Maury isn't much of a forester, "You tear it down and plant a new one." he leans forward in his seat, "Maury, we have to gut the tree. These compromises build on each other until we're just going to be another part of the system. We're already basically in the pocket of the government. How many years until we completely get subsumed?"
He stands suddenly, "You can feel it, Maury. You can feel it when you look at your boy and you think about what kind of life he's going to have." he shakes his head, "And I'll tell you, Maury, he'll have a horrible life. Until one day he's just another part of this mess that we've created and haven't set right." he licks his lips, "I need you, Maury. I need you to help set things right. I need you so we can save this damned ungrateful planet."
A nervous look is fired into the kitchen, Maury's unsettled stare focused on his wife's back again but his thoughts more directed at hers, seeing her intentions, how much she's hearing — thankfully nothing. Settling his stare back on Adam, Maury's brows crease and that hesitate look in his eyes turns more anxious. But there's no denial, no searching of Adam either to know if he speaks the truth. That kind of conviction can be felt in the heart — there's no need for the head to get involved.
Bowing his head down to look at Matt in his arms, Maury grows silent, save for the one thing his head is good for at the moment; nodding. "What… exactly are you talking about?" Nervousness still hedges in to Maury's tone of voice, more nervousness of being caught in this conversation than the topic at hand now. "You— You know I'd do anything t'protect my family, Adam, you've known me long enough to be sure a'that. But…" When he looks down at Matt again, it's hard to really look at the baby the same way.
"Adam, you haven't talked to anyone else about this yet, have you?"
Adam considers how to answer the question. He's quiet for a moment, pacing a bit. "Not quite this way…no. But I have talked to other people, I've tried to see if they understand." he mms, "And they do, Maury. We aren't alone. And together, we can fix this whole…damn…mess." his lips purse a moment, "And if you come with me, Maury, we can make the world better for little Matthew there. I just need people with me. People I can trust." he turns back to Maury, "Can I trust you, Maury?"
Can he trust him? Trust always was the failing point of the Company, and everyone involved in it. "Of course you can…" It's the way Maury answers, one firm nod coming after the affirmation. "If there's anything you can trust, Adam, it's me." But trust… trust always was the failing point of the Company.
Mt.Sinai Hospital, New York, New York
2009
It's raining just like it was that day, coming down in heavy sheets against the night-darkened windows. The respirator has not stopped keeping the EKG company with its mechanical conversation, and they have become the background noise to Adam's reminiscence. Trust was always something difficult to muster, something difficult to Manage. Seated here, at the bedside of one of the last of the old guard, it's hard not to remember how trust has betrayed him so many times before. Hiro, the Company, even his new allies seem to have fractured or torn away; taken his hospitality and goals for granted to sate their own goals or agendas. Trust, it's a vicious thing.
He never ever saw it coming at all, he never ever saw it coming at all…
It's alright… Hey, open up, here comes the original sin…
Adam is still quiet in his seat, his hands on his knees quietly as he considers things past and present. He states to the body in the bed, "You shouldn't have let me down, Maury." he stands quietly from his seats and begins punching buttons, turning off alarms to alert a keen hospital staff, "I trusted you and you were nowhere to be found when I needed you most. None of you were." and he shakes his head with a heavy heart, "You all let me down and now you have to pay." and with that, he walks over to the bed and turns off the respirator. He's almost gentle as he pulls the tube from Maury so that the machine operated breathing stops.
It's alright… It's alright… It's alright…
Hey, open up, here comes the original sin…
He stays with him though, occasionally checks his pulse as Maury's body begins to fail. There's no gunshot, no elaborate stroke of the sword, just a quiet, unyeilding wheezing as a body tries to remember how to breath. And when it's done, he puts his hand on Maury's forehead and seems to almost say a prayer.
Hey, open up, here comes the original sin…
Hey, open up, here comes the original sin…
As he moves to leave the room, he speaks to the body formerly known as Maury Parkman. He steps easily and quietly and says, "Don't worry, Maury." in a quiet sort of way, "You won't be alone wherever you're going. I'll be sending you more company very soon." and then quietly turns off the light. He steps out of the room and back to his busy life, but he leaves Maury Parkman behind, in more ways than one.
I'm the hero of the story…
Don't need to be saved…
Machines wind down, the respirator begins to shut off, and Maury's breathing turns from wheezing gurgle to a tomb-silent stillness. Soundless, now, the EKG flicker-flashes the erratic motion of his heartbeat to a new rythm, one that does not match the swift and even cadence of Adam's footfalls across the floor towards the hospital door.
I'm the hero of the story…
Don't need to be saved…
The rain batters downo n the windows, clattering with a mix of tiny pieces of hail from the bitter cold outside. The city streets outside the window are dimly lit, jaundiced yellow lights casting reflections on the black streets beyond. The EKG's green line flcikers up and down again, an erratic beat, and the click of his door finally being shut, closing off a chapter of a life. The line bumps up and down again, a spike, a peak and a valley, a high and a low.
I'm the hero of the story…
Don't need to be saved…
That green line stops moving, goes flat and speeds away from the semblance of life behind it. Soon, it's just a flat mark, a monochromatic epitaph to the life of a man that once was. What little remained of Maury Parkman following what his son did to him passes with the closing of that door, one of the last in a line of lasts snuffed out by the man that put his trust in him.
Hey, it's alright…
Trust always was the failing point.
No one's got it all.