Participants:
| Scene Title | Never Say Good-bye |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Because good-bye means going away, and going away means forgetting. (J.M. Barrie, "Peter Pan") |
| Date | May 19, 2010 |
Old Textile Factory, Red Hook
The old textile factory is one of the few places in the city that still has heat, light, and hot water. It runs on its own generator, Elisabeth assumes. Or its own grid at the power company perhaps. Either way, the place is still chilly inside. No heater withstands -80 degree cold for too long — the insulation just isn't good enough. So though she's inside the base, she's still wearing thick socks, heavy shoes and pants, and a turtleneck and heavy fleece sweatshirt. The barracks are almost never empty and Kershner's taken over the conference room for her own. Elisabeth wanted a little time alone and she's managed to scout out a small storage room for her own use when she desperately needs to be by herself away from the people in the base. It's tiny, it's chock full of boxes, but there's light and she's put a coat under her behind so she can sit there and read with a hot cup of coffee next to her. Clearly she's not going out on a run at the moment.
"This is a very old building…" A quiet whisper stirs in the shadows of the room, "…I wonder if they realize all the ways in and out of it." All the secret ways…
The tattered darkness that is Richard Cardinal curls about Elisabeth's shoulders, whispering softly to her in greeting, "Hi, lover." Lover…
The whisper of his voice in her ear brings Elisabeth's head up and back to rest on the wall, as if he's propped behind her. "Hi," she whispers softly. Somehow, in this tiny little room, whispering seems appropriate. "They'd be fools to put a headquarters here without having full blueprints, buuuut…. you never know. The old buildings always have surprises."
"I suppose I'm one of the few who could use the way I got in… so I'll keep this secret to myself…" Cardinal drapes about her like a torn, unravelling shawl, "…anyway. You wanted to see me? I had something to tell you too…" News…
Elisabeth smiles slightly. "Remember the days when we used to get together just to have dinner and fuck all night?" she asks wistfully. Life was so much simpler somehow when it was just dinner and fucking. Now it's loving and hurting and wishing and hoping and being lonely and frightened and so damn sad all the time that she can't stand herself. "I had news for you — I didn't want you to hear it through the grapevine. Lucy's burned down the other night. Abby's okay…. there was …. it was a situation with Dreyfus." Sort of. "He's dead in the conflagration, Abby said. So that's… dealt with. Assuming that they ID him positively."
"Yeah. Yeah, I do." I do… A wistful whisper, and then Richard pauses, "…what? Lucy's… what about Brenda, and the other girls? Dreyfus is dead?" What?
Yeah… that's kind of what she figured. "No one else was at the bar. It's been closed for a while. I got a message from Abby, but I got it too late to get there — communications being what it is right now. Dreyfus apparently hit her at the bar, she said he was shooting them like fish in a barrel… and Abby….. " Elisabeth bites her lip. "Abby manifested, Richard. Turned into living flame, literally. Could hear but not talk, couldn't control it. The bar burned down because of her ability. Parkman managed to make sure that so far as everyone's concerned, she is still negative on the SLC genetic tests — he covered her. So … on the up side, her insurance should cover it, at least." She sighs heavily. "But she won't be able to help you. The only other alternative she could come up with was Peter Petrelli." Her tone is bitter. "I informed her that you'd already asked him, but that I'd pass it along."
There's a long silence from Cardinal as he processes all of that. "Living flame… she can't control it? Is she — is she alright? It didn't hurt her, or — damn. That's why the bar burnt down?" My fault…
"It's not your fault," Elisabeth murmurs in response. She knew he'd feel that way. "And I'll tell you the same thing I've told Abby. You cannot feel guilty for this. She feels like shit because her ability is not healing — she feels like she let you down. So both of you have to put down the guilt. You have to find a way to not drown under it, okay? It didn't hurt her, it just scared her. She came out of the fire without a mark on her aside from bullet wounds that Dreyfus inflicted before she combusted."
The fringes of darkness twist around her shoulders, her neck, in a loose collar before spilling tendrils down her arm in a loose coiling. Shadows whispering to her in subtle, echoing guilt, "I do anyway. I cost her… I'll have to pay her back somehow. Make it right." Make it up to her, if I can…
"Peter… offered to help… with Gillian. He has Kozlow's ability right now…" Sasha…
There's a slow nod. "I know." About Sasha's ability, that is. "So he's changed his mind and decided you're worth helping after outing you to Kershner and God only knows who else, huh?" Her tone is a little bitter. Elisabeth reaches up to stroke the tendrils along her arm. "Are you going to take him up on it?" she asks in a soft whisper. She's afraid to hope. She doesn't think he'll cut off his nose to spite his face, but…. some days, Richard does manage to surprise her.
"I don't have any other choice, Liz." A quiet whispering from beside her ear, behind her ear perhaps, shadow curling where his hands once caressed her hair, "I'll do… I'll do what I need to do. I know Gillian'll help, but.. I don't know if this is going to work." I could die…
Blue eyes close, and Elisabeth swallows hard. "I know," she whispers softly. "I've known since you came back." There are no words for how much hurt she has felt watching him lose parts of himself, drifting away in small tatters of shadows. The closest analogy might be watching him die of AIDS or of cancer. "I'm glad you're going to try, love." She turns her head sideways on the wall, sitting much as she used to sit tucked beneath his chin, her hand still softly touching his shadow. "Did you ever read the original Peter Pan, lover?"
"I'm not sure," Cardinal murmurs thoughtfully, "I've read a Peter Pan, but I don't know if it was the original. What was the difference?" The difference…?
"Well, if you didn't read the Disney version of the storybook, then you probably read JM Barrie's original," Elisabeth replies with a faint smile. "It's a silly book, maybe, for an adult to keep in mind, but I reread it not long after I met you. It amused me to think of you in shadow form, you know?"
"Some of the kids at the orphanage used to call themselves the Lost Boys, when they thought the penguins weren't listening," murmurs Cardinal in the shadows, a stir of wistful humor, "I always thought that was stupid. If we could grow up, we could get out of there, after all. You know?" Silly…
She chuckles softly. "Now there's my ever-so-pragmatic lover," Elisabeth replies mildly. She sits quietly for a moment, simply absorbing his presence. "When are you going to try this?" she asks, her tone still a near whisper.
"Soon. Petrelli's got the attention span of a flea… he's likely to lose the power soon," replies Richard quietly, reluctantly and tenatively, "So… soon. Assuming that Gillian's willing to help… hopefully this week…" This week…
Elisabeth is quiet, her fingertips stroking the shadow on her arm much as she might stroke a cat. "Do you want me there?" she finally asks softly. "Or would you rather I didn't?" The question seems so simple, but it's really not. The horror of what has been done to his body is most likely going to be immense — for both of them. And on the one hand, she wants to be there for him in whatever capacity he'll allow. On the other…. on some level, she doesn't want to watch him die again. But she doesn't want to let him die alone either. Terrible conundrum.
"No. No, I… I don't want you there, Liz… if something goes wrong. They can tell you about it. You don't need to see it." I don't want you to see… There falls silence for long moments, and then Cardinal whispers quietly, "…if it doesn't work, I don't want your last memory of me to be… what's left of me now. At least the last time you saw my face it was whole." Whole…
Only now do the tears shimmer on her lashes. "Call me. Before you go. Or come see me one more time?" Elisabeth would rather the latter, but if he doesn't want or can't face the idea, she won't press him. "Just so I know it's about to go down." Because she doesn't want to be out on a run when she finds out the results.
"Okay." The shadow's embrace wraps about her shoulders and arms - solid, for a fleeting moment before it begins to splinter again - and then it draws back, twisting away to withdraw. Richard hesitates. "…I love you, Liz."
Her eyes close as he manages that one solid hug. If it's the last one she ever has, it will be all the more treasured for the effort it must have cost him. Elisabeth sucks in a soft breath that hitches faintly, and she forces a smile for him. "Well, at least this time you can't hang up when you say it," she whispers as she holds onto that fleeting contact. "Thank you. For… I don't know. Teaching me that loving someone doesn't mean changing them or changing yourself to be what you think they want. If it fails and there is such a thing as heaven or hell…. I'll see you on the other side, love."
"I doubt that, lover…" A whispered little chuckle from Richard as he draws away, slipping shadow through her fingers unfelt, "…we're not ending up in the same place, whatever you think. I'll talk to you soon…" Soon…
"You better," Elisabeth whispers softly as he slips away, waiting until the silence has drawn out for long minutes before burying her face in her hands and losing the struggle to control tears.