Motives In Doubt


elisabeth_icon.gif phillip_icon.gif

Scene Title Motives In Doubt
Synopsis He's just too good to be true.
Date May 9, 2011

Central Park

When the text came that he wanted to meet, Elisabeth's tension ratcheted up a bit. She sent back a text suggesting a meeting in the park. Near the fountain, where there will be enough people to hide among even on a Monday morning but not enough people to block her ability to run like hell if she needs to.

She's there early, scoping out the place on a slow walk. Wearing scruffy jeans and that orange and pink fleece, her hair swinging loose about her hips, Elisabeth looks younger and enough different from the businesslike head of FRONTLINE to keep most people's eyes off her. Her hands are shoved into her pockets and she sits on the edge of the fountain poised to move quickly if she needs to. An earbud dangles from a wire, one of them plugged into her ear but the other hanging free as she waits.

Phillip is punctual. He is within visual range just one minute prior to the scheduled time and seen walking toward the meeting point. He holds himself confidently and wears his standard blue business suit with a white shirt beneath with a layer of a red and blue patterned tie. His left hand holds a zipped leather bound folder sized case. Eyes are also sharp, looking around for Liz, but trying to be casual about it.

The blonde waits exactly where she said she'd be, pulling the earbud out of her ear as he approaches and moving to stand up. Elisabeth's blue eyes take in his professional attire and she smiles faintly. She rocks on her heels a bit but doesn't reach out to shake his hand or otherwise touch him. "Good morning," is all she offers in a quiet tone.

Seeing her set the tone of formality, Phillip smiles warmly offering a, "Good morning." and will look the nearby bench and say, "Let's sit and talk."

He's already unzipping the small attache case.

Elisabeth nibbles her lip and nods slightly, the wariness still communicating itself easily enough. She walks toward the bench and sits down on it. Only when he joins her there does she pull the stunt that will ensure their privacy — one moment, all the random sounds of the park are going on around them and the next they are both enshrouded in silence. A pure silence. No traffic sounds, no whisper of the breeze through the leaves, no voices carrying from children and joggers. "I wasn't sure I'd hear from you," Elisabeth admits to him. "It's a lot to take in."

Seated beside her, with her words of holding on he looks to her then his eyes drift away to look around in reaction to the sudden loss of ambient noise. He swallows and pulls on his right ear while thinking that he's suddenly gone deaf.

Then as Liz speaks, his eyes return to her with a hint of shock; though his smile returns and he puts pieces together.

Back to business, he opens the attache case revealing a yellow pad, ring bindings, and other pieces of paper within that have printed words upon them. He doesn't respond to her statement, as there's nothing that can say more than his presence here. "Number one, do you require money or resources?"

There's a bit of a mischievous smile when he pulls on his ear. Elisabeth couldn't help herself; teasing the man seems like the thing to do. Blowing out a breath as they get to business, Elisabeth considers. "I don't know that money's going to help much. Aside from … being able to eat," she admits wryly. "What I think I need right now is the ability to get the information I have out into the public's eye quickly. In ways that cannot be just ignored or denied or buried. So … resources is the most likely answer." She pauses. "I have name recognition, but my credibility is shot after I passed information to the Ferry," she admits quietly. "Anything I say, they're likely to claim that I'm just making things up, trying to justify my terrorist actions." There's a pause and she says quietly, "And I'm not even sure right now that getting loud is going to help matters. But I have to try."

Phillip considers a moment as he pulls a sheet from the attache and offers it to her. The sheet details his net worth, liquid resources, solid resources, investements, and everything else standard to a financial portfolio. "We start here. Anything you need from that is yours."

Then without missing a beat or allowing for question or comment, he continues, "This page details my /means/. As in contacts, channels, standard procedures and of course all that I have access to through the industry. As a /Producer/, I generally hae little to do with the actual writing, directing, and material content of what I produce. I'm generally the guy to go to when someone needs money for a project." Then he changes gears to take her down another path, "However; I know certain people who do write, direct, and make documentaries. Which is the thread you're wanting to establish. That and possibly commercials. The constitution protects freedom of speech, as long as it's out there before the government has a chance to block it's dissemenation."

Elisabeth looks…. well, flabbergasted is a good way to put it. She stares at the sheets he's handed her speechless. Her eyes close for a long moment and when she looks back up at him, she asks in a soft, choked voice, "Why?" Because what he's offering here…. "You could go to jail for aiding and abetting, Phillip. Accessory. They don't even have to have a trial. Why would you go this far?" She can't help it. When something looks too good to be true it usually is.

"You and your "why's"." Phillip says with a teasing tone. "I realize you're missing a good chunk of our time together." he starts relaying while pulling a photograph from the fold of the attache. The photograph is handed over as he continues, "And that's a lot to process. Even on my eend. But I view the people in my life in two factions. Fake and real. Anyone west of the Rockies is fake, anyone east is real. That /real/ includes you and your father. Everyone else is either dead or long since gone from my social circles."

"I have to ask why," Elisabeth retorts with a faint smile. "Because I've been in politics for a while now and everyone has an agenda." She reaches out curiously to take the photo and look at it while he talks.

The photo is of the both of them dressed up for prom, his arm around her back. They stand with central park at their backs (taken from the Upper East Side).

He produces another photograph from the attache and offers it; both look a little older (possibly 21) and they're not in the city, as there are trees and other rural fixtures in the background. They're sitting on the hood of a Mercedes wearing casual attire.

Phillip continues to answer, "You told me of a very dark future. I've seen the movies, read the scripts, I know what the future could hold. It's played out in Soylent Green, in comic books, Blade Runner, Brazil, 1984, and several other dystopic futures. I cannot discount or hypothetically discredit what you're suggesting and beleive in what you say. I'd rather not end up in some concentration camp or terminated because I'm different." - which then outs his own origins.

Tilting her head, Elisabeth grins a little at the image of teenagers at prom. "Lord. Look at that hair," she murmurs, her fingertips trailing over the picture. The second one makes her frown a little as she studies it. "How old were we here?" she asks curiously, looking up at him. "School break from Illinois or something?" They look about college aged.

And then blue eyes sharpen on him. Elisabeth's gaze is intent, laser bright. She'd have been a good lawyer. "What kind of ability?" she asks quietly.

Phillip leans some toward her to look at the photograph. "Spring break 95 . Before that /summer/." As summer is said in a resentful tone with a slight frown. "Instead of going to Europe or the beach, we went to the house in the Hamptons." He smiles reflecting back, "I still have that house… Anyway, we /disappeared/ for a good 5 days before anyone found us. I think you were still being rebellious or something was going on between you and your parents and I was just looking for quiet time with you."

Being reflective, he sort of side steps the question about the ability.

Elisabeth pauses and says regretfully, "The last memory I have of my parents from high school was…. fighting with my mom over … hell, I don't even know. Something stupid, I'm sure. I remember slamming the door mid-fight, and …. that's really all there is." She looks down at the second picture, her brow furrowed. "Everything else is just entirely blank. It's not your usual amnesia stuff, the…. well, I guess the easiest way to explain is that when I got hurt, the healer grew back the parts of my brain that were gone. But there was no restoring the … electrical impulses that are what make memories, I guess?" She shrugs. "A neurologist explained it to me while I was in FRONTLINE, but I'm not a medical doctor. Basically, sometimes I know things without really knowing them. Like… my fingers know pieces of music that I don't remember learning."

Elisabeth looks back up at him. "Did I hurt you?" she asks candidly. She is perhaps not the best relationship person ever — she's right to the point on the matter.

After a long reflective moment of her brain talk he comes to the question at hand Phillip grins and shakes his head no. "Guess there are benefits to your memory loss." then with a corrective flow to the intent of the statement, "Actually, I was the asshole."

"Tiffany Greer!? Seriously, Tiffany Greer?" Asks Liz emphatically.

Phillip responds in a defensive tone, "It's not like that. We were on /break/. You said it your self. And I was thinking about you the whole time!"

"There were things that happened that weren't really supposed to happen." Phillip adds verbally to the reflection playing out in his head. "I made regretful mistake."

"Well…. for what it's worth, I know nothing," Elisabeth retorts with a bit of a grin. "Seems like you get a clean slate." She proffers the pictures back to him, if he wants them. "The only thing I can tell you is that… I'm not that girl anymore. Whatever happened…." She shrugs. "I went on. Became a good cop. Became a better freedom fighter. Found out that I had a power. Have used it to save the world more than once, not that it means much cuz it never really stays saved or anything. And I've… helped create the fucking mess that's coming at us now… so I don't have time to quit or rest. The work's not done yet." There's a moment's pause and she says softly, "If you're sure about this… I've got a lot to tell you. And it's a risk. My gut's telling me to trust you, but my brain's telling me to tell you to get the hell out of Dodge, frankly. No matter how much what you're offering could help me."

Denying the return of the photos with a raised hand <allowing her to keep them> he comments in a serious and declarative tone, "Then tell me what you know and what I need to do."

Elisabeth glances around the park and then says, "Do you mind if we walk?" She'd rather be in motion while they talk. She moves to stand up (assuming he seems amenable) taking the photos and the paperwork he's given her with her and keeps the silence field around them as she starts to walk. Her eyes are constantly on the move making threat assessments. "So… you asked me what you could do."

There's a pause as Elisabeth works to put her thoughts in order. "Are you familiar with Brad Russo?" she asks. The "face" of The Advocate, a show that is getting bigger lately. "I recently gave him a full download of all the proof that we have of what the government's been up to since the 1960s. Coyote Sands was the first relocation camp for Evos, and shit went really far south. Russo tried to investigate and got himself swept up by Homeland Security when he did. They're used Coyote Sands for other things now. But he's willing to start putting the information out there…. if it doesn't mean he gets dumped in Evo Gitmo," she tells him quietly.

Standing with her, he zips the attache and carries it in his left hand, allowing Liz to walk on his right. He will maintain a close proximity in his movements, but won't intentionally touch or brush up against her.

"I'm familiar with him, yes. Though no direct dealings with his production." Phillip states in the clear tone of business and the industry.

As they walk along, the fact that she has her right hand free seems to keep her from getting overly paranoid. Elisabeth replies softly, "I'd been thinking about the idea of putting the two of you together for this. It wouldn't look strange for the two of you to talk, and he'd be able to show you exactly what we have for proof." She pauses. "In addition, there's a man in DC who has some credibility and has been trying to draw attention to the situation up here. I think… I think if you can pull us in a documentary writer to look at the evidence, write it up well, and between you guys and this man in Washington and whoever he can bring in…. we might be able to get it out there. But again, Phillip… it's going to have to be fast. And quiet until it literally explodes onto the scene all at once. We can't give them time to discredit the people working on it." She looks up at him. "Can you do it?"

"Lemmie talk to Russo." Phillip says after a moment of thought. "I'm pretty sure we can approach this on our two fronts, expose' and documentary. Government coverups are loved by the populace. And we're going to have to coordinate overseas as well. Can't just put it out there in the US and hope for global attention. If I'm thinking correctly, something like this needs the UN to stand up and take notice."

Elisabeth nods slowly and goes quiet as they walk along the path. She seems to have no real destination in mind. There's a moment where she smiles faintly at something near the edge of the water. She doesn't mention what's caught her attention. Her body language is lighter, though. She steps off the path onto the grass, meandering toward the ducks, and when she comes to a stop she tells him quietly, "I don't know if the UN will listen. I don't know if there will even be the level of outrage that I have for all of this. But this is why when you offered… I took you up on it." She reaches up and shoves her hair back with a heavy sigh. "I'm strong in a tactical lead, but I don't do one-upmanship too well." Glancing up at him, she observes, "Somehow, I think that's a game you excel at."

Phillip grins in response to her hinting at his social qualities, but he's not one to comment beyond that.

"You're such a jackass!" exclaims Liz.

The park is alive. Ducks are in the pond quacking around. The sounds of the fountain are heard nearby, people flying kites, children laughter, and then of course a 16 year old Phillip laughing as he takes Liz's physical assault in the form of a punch to the upper arm.

Phillip returns, "I blame my father. He taught me how to be this way."

Liz notes, "You're totally not derailing the argument. I'll have you know, Blane is cool, I like him, and I'm totally going out with him tomorrow night."

Phillip grins, "He's totally gay, you're his cover. He wants Sven's booty, not yours."

Phillip spies the ducks and reviews the last time they were in this specific area. He then states, "In Hollywood, the only thing that's real is the game, and even then it's all fake."

"Heh… yeah, well, seems like that experience will serve you well here," Elisabeth chuckles softly. It's bizarre to stand here and not be able to hear the ducks or the lapping of the water. "So, you going to keep avoiding my question?" she asks easily.

"Which question was that?" Phillip queries in a playful tone. "You've had so many verbally and non verbally: Whether or not I could handle you. If your ass looks fat in those jeans. If I'm interested in spending quality time with you on the run from the government. What my powers are. If my lips still feel the same since prom - or maybe if you could remember what they felt like when we kissed. If I'm seeing anyone back in LA. If I'm gay - which I assure I'm not. Can I really pull off what you need done…. and so on."

What?? Elisabeth looks … outraged! "My ass is anything but fat, thankyouverymuch," she retorts instantly, her vanity pricked. The woman's dropped a little more weight than she can afford to lose even! And she's all muscle, what with months in physical training to handle SWAT/FRONTLINE activities anyway. "And I don't need to know what your lips feel the same since I can't remember any of that anyway — plus, I know for a fact that you can't handle me." Her tone is tart and very annoyed. "You're an arrogant prick still," she observes. "Some things apparently have not changed one iota."

"That's the Liz I remember." Phillip says with a wry smile. Pushing her buttons once again he realizes that he's missed her all these years. Who wouldn't miss the constant inflammatory responses to his prodding.

Huffing out a breath, the blonde slants him a Look. "It's almost too bad you're not gay," Elisabeth snarks. "Then I could hook you up with Felix just to watch… I'd love to see him shred you to ribbons."

"Felix, as in the cat? He's not been declawed?" Phillip asks while glancing from her to the lake and m.r.ducks. The grip on his attache shifts slightly just to center it within his hand.

Liz grins wickedly. "Oh, no, sweetness, my Felix definitely has all his claws." She flips her hair over her shoulder in an absent motion once more and smiles. "So — the questions were 1) can you do what I'm asking of you, and 2) what's your ability? You're messing with me to avoid telling me."

"I'm messing with you to stall your departure. Because I know, as soon as I tell you all my secrets, you'll be out like Mandela." Phillip ruses and then returns to the serious tone of the questions, "Russo and I will figure out what I can and cannot do through my channels. However I'm confident that we can get what you need done, done. As for my power; It's some sort of energy barrier or force field. Protects me from damage and gives me some sort of increased strength."

She eyes him. Some would say it's a speculative look. "Did I play games with you a lot or something?" Elisabeth asks of him curiously. "Because if you wanted me to stick around nowadays, all you'd have to do was ask."

In a lingering pause of forward movement, Phillip reflects, "Weirdly enough, we really didn't play game-games. It started out neither of us knowing what we wanted, then realized we wanted each other, then there was distance… and distance, along with my stupidity, ruined it." then he reflects a little deeper, "Looking back, we were kids. And we did what kids did. Fixate on things that our hormones dictate. What we came out of it with was a close friendship, something that stayed strong even with the distance. Something that got lost in the shuffle of 9/11 and then the bomb."

"What matters though is that we're standing in this park getting ready to unleash the truth to the world. A truth that is beyond you and I, and after the explosion of chaotic events that will follow it, hopefully it will make the world a better place. One that you can live free and happy. Because right now, what the world is doing to you really, really pisses me off." - ending in a serious tone that reflects his caring for her.

Elisabeth has to parse what he's saying. She is quiet for a time, thinking it over. "So we were a thing when we were kids," she mulls, "and… you were a jerk to me." She smiles slightly. "Being willing to get your ass arrested is an awful extravagant way to say you're sorry for whatever went wrong when you were… what? 19? 20?" The observation is given in a dry, amused tone. "But I have to admit, I seem to have a weakness for gamblers," she adds on an afterthought.

Phillip doesn't comment on her assessment. He leaves it be as he's probably said too much already. He moves on to the closing aspects of the discussion, "I'll get in touch with Russo, tell him to expect me."

Pursing her lips, Liz watches him thoughtfully. "Someday, I'm going to convince you to tell me what's going on," she says softly. There's an undertone to her words, one that perhaps gives away that his reticence is having the effect of making her doubt the trust she'd like to place in him. "Your reasons are your own," she says. "I don't really have the right to demand them of you. But mine isn't the only life on the line if I trust you. As it stands right now, if you're working for … someone. DoEA, the Commonwealth Institute… The only people you can hurt right now are myself and perhaps Russo. And I'd regret hurting him in spite of what he would have become in the future because that hasn't happened yet." She bites her lip, weariness and strain suddenly adding a little age to her face. Gentle lines around her eyes that betray stress and all the things that come with aging… and with several years spent in war. Ancient eyes. "I want to trust you. Don't betray it." It's less a request than it is … a gentle warning.

Phillip's eyes linger within hers as he considers the lines of her face, her expressions and her tone. Little escapes his observations as he once looked into those eyes so many years ago and still recalls the times they spent together. He reaches into his slacks pocket and pulls out a single key on a ring. Also on that ring is a plastic lable with an address on it. He reaches for her hand with the intent of placing the key within it, "The fridge is fully stocked, soft beds, and it's remote enough to be safe."

Elisabeth's blue eyes are not those of a trusting girl. Not even a trusting woman. As he closes her hand around the key, she sees something in his face that perhaps reassures her. And she simply nods slowly. "Thank you," she murmurs. For a moment, she lingers there trying to sort out the puzzle of the man in front of her. And then she slips her hand from his and backs up a couple of steps, the sounds of the park filtering back into their area. "I'll let him know to you're coming," she says of Russo. Shoving the key into her pocket, still in possession of the papers he handed her, the blonde pivots on a heel and gives him the implicit trust of turning her back on him as she walks away.

Phillip will do nothing more than nod to her statement and subsequently watch her walk away. Once outside of 20 paces, he himself will turn and move in the opposite direction.

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