Participants:
| Scene Title | Keeping the Faith |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Alexander reports to Helena on his encounter with Peter. |
| Date | October 2, 2008 |
Apartment 1407 — Peter's Apartment
Some time ago this spacious apartment may have been a comfortable and warm place to live. The architecture is reminiscent of old-world New York, with many hallways and corridors leading to wide open living spaces and dining rooms. But in whatever times has passed since someone lived here, it has not been kind. Plastic and sheets cover much of the contents of the apartment, pulled over armoires and cabinets, couches and chairs and tables. Boxes half-filled with personal belongings are stacked up in cleared out areas of what might have at one time been a living room. Windows with blinds partly drawn view the streets of what is clearly the Lower East Side.
Suffice to say, after getting the call, the weather around the Lower East Side has been a bit…rough. She called Alex back though, and in a voice tight with tension, insisted he come visit her at the address provided, explaining it was her own private safehouse.
Alexander appears, still in the suit he was wearing for work. Try as he might to conceal it behind that practiced stoicism, Al's tremendously upset. He knocks on the door lightly with a knuckle.
Helena checks the peephole before opening up. Her eyes and the tip of her nose are red, her face pale. "You really saw him?" Not even a hello as she opens the door to admit him.
"I saw him," he confirms, as he slips in. "He had the scar. He didn't seem to know me. I don't think he was lying to fool his companion, either. I think they've taken him from himself, somehow," he says, voice tight and afraid.
"They brain-washed him." Helena's certain of it. "I don't understand how, maybe they have mind-controllers, or…something." She roots through the kitchen cabinets, pulls out a bottle of crappy wine. She searches for a cork popper and gets to work, expression numb. "He's working for them now." It's not a question. "We have to get him back."
That's worse than physical captivity. Al blinks at her. "Holy Christ," he says. Blasphemy does not come easy for him, but there it is. "I can believe it. We have to assume they got it ALL out of him. That we're all compromised, and it is only a matter of time."
Helena shakes her head. "They would have moved on you." she says. "But for whatever reason, they're maintaining their masquerade of wanting to deal — I'm going to have to deal with Sylar again, see what he knows." Wine is poured into two glasses, almost to over-full. She sets one before Alex and takes a big gulp, grimacing. "If he didn't recognize you, we can only assume they wiped his mind somehow."
"Yeah. He knew his name. But….not a flicker here," he says, taking up the wine and lifting it to her in grave salutation. He takes a hearty swallow as well, though more as if it were medicine than anything else.
"And you said he was dressed in a suit? And they're letting him out to be social." Helena shakes her head. "It sounds like they're using him. Could you imagine the Company with Peter as one of their people? Even if he's forgotten all about us, he'll still be near unstoppable."
Alexander coughs at the burn in his throat. "Yes. Apparently paired with some man named Woods. English, by his accent," he says, licking his lips nervously. "I wonder if that was coattrailing. If they wanted to draw us out of the woodwork….if in fact they didn't get what they wanted, but are parading him to see how we react. I …I'm afraid I bungled it," he says, contrite.
Helena looks thoughtful yet again, her lips pursing in a thoughtful frown. "How did he react when you seemed to know him? Was he rude about it, or confused, or did he act all buddy buddy?"
"Politely confused. He asked if I was a friend of Simone's," Al explains, again taking more of the wine.
Helena blanches. Takes another swallow of wine. "What did you say?"
"I said I did not know her, but had heard him describe her many a time," He takes a shuddering breath, and puts away more of the wine, before shoving it gently away. Al drunk and distraught is…not good.
Helena bites her lip. "Did he mention where he's been staying?" she asks. "I don't suppose you stayed around long enough to find that out."
Alexander shakes his head. "Not with his handler, there. I didn't dare say more. I gave him my phone number," he adds, drawing idle circles in the condensation with a fingertip.
Helena blinks. "That may or may not be good. Those things usually have GPS's. But if he calls you…" she trails off. She gestures vaguely around. "Maybe he'll come back. This is his place."
"IF he remembers," Al murmurs, glancing around them. His first real good look at their surroundings.
"He gave me the keys." Hel says softly. "So I'm going to keep staying here, and maybe he'll come home. Thing of it is, one of the abilities I know he has — if he taps it, maybe he can remember." Cat's perfect recall. "Unless we can draw him out first, but that's dangerous."
Alexander says, quietly, "Do you want me to wait here, rather than leave you alone?"
Helena shakes her head. "You can stay on the couch tonight if you want. With the amount we probably both plan to drink, it might be a good idea, and it's probably more comfortable then the beds at the safehouse. But I'll stay alone. If Peter does show up…he'd never hurt me." Her faith may sound almost painful.
"The Peter we knew would not. The Peter we have now….doesn't know us," he points out, quietly.
Up until this point, Helena has been maintaining a fretted, but still calm demeanor. When Alexander makes his point, that's when her eyes glisten, and though she looks away, it's to wipe at the tears dropping down her cheeks. "Alex…it's all going to hell. I just need to keep my faith in this one thing, okay? Peter would never hurt me. I have to believe that."
Alexander reaches for her hands across the table, managing not to knock over their wine glasses. "I understand," he says, quietly. IT doesn't lessen his resolve to play guard dog, though.
Helena gives it a squeeze, and then lets out a choked laugh. "Oh god," she says bleakly, "I'm going to have to call Claire and tell her. I'll do it tomorrow." She can face down Sylar, risk her life on a raid against the Company, but the prospect of calling Claire with the most recent news is apparently just a little too much on her emotional woodpile right now. "I think I'm just going to drink a lot of wine and go to bed. Like I said, the couch is yours. Okay?"
"Gotcha," he says, simply. And he won't even try to crawl in the bed of the middle of the night.
An unexpected cold snap has rolled in along the Lower East Side, spreading slowly over the island of Manhattan over the course of a few hours. Previously predicted temperatures have taken an unexpected downturn, combined with darkly overcast skies and equally unexpected showers of near freezing temperature making for a rather bleak, grey forecast. The freezing rain is unusual, but not unheard of - so motorists and commuters, please make sure to dress warm and for secure footing!
 October 2nd: Unmistakable Identity |
 October 2nd: Truth in the Reflection |