I Do


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Scene Title I Do
Synopsis James Silver hears a pair of words from a woman other than the one he wants.
Date August 16, 2010

The Verb, Penthouse

Arriving by any of four elevators, visitors will find they open into three foot corridors facing wide double doors made from sturdy southern pine which swing outward and have the strongest locks available. The stairs lead to single doors, also outward opening, at the end of three foot corridors. Entry requires both a key and a keycard; other security measures are a video camera and voice communication terminal at all doors. The 4th Street side has floor to ceiling windows interrupted only by the access points. Cream colored curtains are normally kept closed.

This level has enough space for sixteen apartments. There is an office space with reception area, conference room, and executive office; a room for archery practice and other forms of physical exercise; a very well appointed kitchen and dining area; a music zone with an array of instruments, electronics, and amplifiers; an entertainment area with an HD set covering an entire stretch of wall from floor to ceiling; a locked room where security footage for the building is recorded and can be monitored; a laundry room; a staircase for roof access; central air and heating; the main bedroom and a few smaller guest rooms; plush deep wine carpet everywhere except the kitchen, laundry room and bathrooms; and track lighting everywhere overhead. The light levels can be lowered or raised in the entire place, or selectively by segments. The overall decor suggests the occupant is a woman.

She doesn't have Silver's name or number in her contacts, in fact Cat doesn't keep anyone's info there. Memory makes such things entirely unneeded, save for the ability to know who's calling without even looking at the screen which would come with assigning a host of people their own specific ringtones. It's happened in the past, and may happen again, but at the present time with a fifteen million dollar bounty on her head it's a good thing not to implicate persons by being listed in electronic devices. Her face was covered at the time, but one never knows.

They might, after all, decide to procure warrants and pay a visit simply based on what they already know about her. Or pay that visit sans warrants; the Feds have repeatedly demonstrated a very lax attitude regarding due process. When the device reports an incoming call by playing a guitar lick and vocal snippet she performed herself, eyes are drawn to the screen.

"Silver," she greets, "good morning."

Having no way of knowing about any bounty that may ride on Catherine's head, Silver's world has been all about him and April for quite some time. Even more so in light of her phone message and disappearance. So, it may be 'all about Silver' when he calls, but in this instance, it almost has to be that way.

"Cat. April's gone."

It's really all he gets out as he chokes back something else, moving the phone away from his mouth as he works to maintain his own composure. The fact is, it's not the first April that he's lost, however, and this is pure assumption on his part, the second isn't gone for good. At least Silver can hope. The situation is delicate, so it's not like he can just go out and hire an investigator to try and find her.

"I didn't know who else to call."

Eyebrows raise when she hears out the first sentence, this is such a mixed bag. Good news in that her talk with the former agent apparently bore fruit of those two establishing contact, bad news in that the woman is gone. The tone to her voice shows focus when Cat speaks in reply, calm confidence. "You made the right choice," she tells him. Step One: Establish the particulars. "I'm listening. Tell me all the details."

Silver repeats the message, now memorized without benefit of ability, to Cat. He discusses his trip to her apartment and she hadn't been there in at least a day, as far as he can tell. Granted, he's not a professional investigator.

"It doesn't look like she came home at all last night." He wishes he'd known more about this April and perhaps he could tell more, though they'd just started getting reaquainted, if that's even the right term for it.

"I've no idea why she left or what would have caused her to do so." There's another choked sound from the other side of the phone as he admits, "I can't handle losing her again, Cat. I just can't." The sounds of traffic, pedestrians and the city in general can be heard in the background as he wanders down the sidewalk, almost aimlessly.

"I know, Silver, I know," Cat quietly informs him. "You made the right choice." She pauses to let what she's said settle in some and hopefully provide a measure of calm settling in. Something or someone may have spooked her, I don't know what yet, it sounds like she's gone to ground. We should talk about this in person, privately. Come to the Verb, take the first elevator to the left of the lobby up to the sixth floor. I'll be waiting.

The interim time should give him a chance to collect himself before she asks pointed questions, and the choice of location ensures privacy for sharing information when and if he floats his own questions.

It takes Silver about 45 minutes to get to where the Verb is. He's composed himself, though he's definitely not in a great state of mind. Luckily for him, he's no court appearances today or he'd really be up shit creek. He takes this moment to, for the umpteenth time, reflect on what he knows and to see if there's something that makes any sort of sense. Of course, if it had, he'd have thought of it by now.

When he arrives to the Verb, he climbs out of his vehicle and hits the remote to lock it before he enters the facility and is moves directly to the elevator, taking it up six floors. As he vacates the transport, he looks for her. He's looking a little rough, having put less time in shaving the past couple of days, and he just looks damn tired.

There are a pair of double doors across from the elevator when it opens on that top floor with the customary 'ding'. Waiting just inside them is Cat. Two cups of coffee are held, one extended toward the man, as he steps out and approaches. "Silver," she greets, "let's start to figure this out." There's no sign of fatigue about her, though the eyes do show a measure of that haunted quality, her demeanor poised and confident as ever.

Feet go into motion, their destination the entertainment room with that immense HD set on the wall and the comfortable seating among other features. She remains standing until he chooses to sit.

Honestly, Silver will take whatever seat he finds first that may have another close enough so they can chat. The coffee is taken with a murmured thanks and he slumps down without the worry of taking off his jacket. He looks like he could sleep for days and still be tired, but this look isn't new for those who knew him just over a year ago.

"Thanks, Cat." For everything really. He takes a sip from the coffee as it's still to hot to gulp, but still it's enough to assure him that there's something left to feel. "I have no idea where to start on this. No idea what to do or how to do it. How can I be a college graduate and not have a clue what to do in a situation like this?"

"You're welcome," she begins as backside settles into seat and jean-clad legs cross at the ankles. "It's not anything you've ever experienced before," Cat quietly opines, "or would ever have expected to. Like being plunged into deep water suddenly, you kick for the surface and have to get there before you can swim." Understanding is in her tone, that quiet semblance of having been there herself.

"We should start at the beginning, look at each detail by itself. May I hear the phone message?"
Pulling out his phone, Silver dials his voicemail and then plays the last saved message.

"I have to disappear for a while. I'm sorry. I'll send you a message when I can."

"To hear this message again, press 7."

His lips move in time to April's own. He's heard this so many times since he first received it that he can match it word for word in near perfect cadence. And of course, just in case Cat didn't get it the first time, he repeats it before he finally hangs up the phone. Honestly, to hear ear it doesn't say anything more than what it says, as much as he wishes there was some sort of secret message spoken in a secret code that only he and she know.

Red eyes turn up towards Cat's as Silver lets out a heavy sigh. "I think she ditched her phone. It goes right to voicemail now."

She listens to the message in silence, eyes showing movements commensurate with making an assessment. Judging April's emotional state at the time in her mind. Was she frantic? Frightened? Resigned? Remorseful? Some combination of those possibilities. Cat's next words depend on what conclusion is reached, on what the message itself tells her about the situation.

April's voice shows a mixture of distraction, rushed and maybe a little paniced. Definitely anxious, as if she's walking at a quick clip while talking on the phone as the sound of traffic and such is heard in the background of the short message. "I don't think she was scared, but she was definitely in a hurry, Cat. I don't know if she was running from someone, or perhaps something, but whatever it was, she was at least spooked enough to disappear." Silver continues to hold that cup of coffee in his hand, though other than the initial sip, he hasn't taken another drink.

"I agree," Cat tells him after making her conclusion. "You were at her residence. Was there evidence of a disturbance? Did it seem she packed quickly for a long trip, or bolted with just the clothes on her back, any sign of visitors welcome or not? Any small detail could be important." Her mind says there's no evidence of a struggle there, that Silver would be even more troubled were it so, but hearing it said is still desired for certainty.

Shaking his head, Silver relays what he saw when he was at her place. "Actually, I don't think she came home at all. Suitcases in the closet, clothing still hung and drawers full as well. I.. I think she just took off without a thing." Everything was left very tidy, with a few exceptions. He finally leans forward, setting the mug on the table nearby, "I get this feeling you know more about this situation than you're telling me. Cat, please. If you know something that will help, please. I need to know." He's had this gut instinct that she's known all along that April was here from the future.

"There's a lot I can tell you, Silver," Cat provides, "some stories aren't mine to tell. When you told me about your vision, about being with her, do you remember what I said? I presented possibilities, one of which included a man called Hiro Nakamura and time travel. I told you the truth, but you weren't ready to believe it." Her own coffee is tasted briefly, making a pause in the sharing of information.

"I can tell you her story as I know it, but would prefer she have the chance to tell it herself first. Not long after you told me of your vision, I looked for April. Found her working at a hotel in SoHo, it took some time to run down several women named April Silver before I got it right. Waited for her outside the hotel, we talked when she emerged. It made her nervous, to meet someone who knew the story. I told her about your vision, said there were three possibilities: One, she'd not run into you. Two, you'd cross paths by surprise. Three, she could intersect with you voluntarily. Then I left it in her hands." Then there's more silence, she observing his reactios before pressing on.

"I can't promise anything, Silver," she intones solemnly, "but I will look for her. I have contacts good at things like this, people whose names I have to keep under wraps. If I didn't, they'd be in danger and probably never speak with me again. If I find her, I will let her know she can be put in touch with people who provide safe shelter. That doesn't guarantee she'll trust me, of course, and I won't try to force her into anything. When she does contact you, if that happens before I can locate her, I recommend bringing her to me. But I also say you should be cautious, anyone looking for April might see you as a path to her."

Silver is watching her with intent eyes as she tells the story. He remembers the first time she told it and how he thought it was complete utter bullshit. When he found out the story was essentially true, he knew that she knew. Or at least she knew of the possibility it was true. It was his choice to believe or not to and he chose not to.

It's all changed now.

He nods his head as she talks of danger not only to her, but to himself, which he really could care less about at this point.

He just wants her back and he wants her safe.

He nods his head in not only understanding, but in agreement. Of course, he could find April or she could come to him, but getting her to agree to come see Cat is an entirely different task altogether. He stands, preparing to depart and he looks down at his friend, "You'll call me the minute you hear anything?" It may sound like a question, but it's really not. It's more of a request for reassurance.

"Of course," Cat tells him. "I think she may have run across someone else who knows her story. Someone she worked with, or met in connection with that work." Her voice retains that solemn tone, she goes on speaking. "I'll give you this, Silver: when you reunite with April, if this turns out as we intend, ask her to tell you all about the company she used to work for. It's really quite the tale. There are a lot of things I know about the world today, things I can tell you if you want to hear. If you do, they'll come in bits and pieces; most would make you possibly question my sanity. But I trust you to keep it all confidential."

Confidential is something that Silver knows full well about being a lawyer, so he nods his head and offers a weak smile to her before he turns to head towards the exit. He stops and looks back at her before asking one last question with a look of concern on his face.

"Do you think she's okay?"

The reply Cat gives him consists of two words he'd rather hear from April Silver than the woman he's currently in the presence of. Perhaps in time it'll happen.

"I do."

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