Participants:
| Scene Title | One Crisis at at Time |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | When Abigail Beauchamp goes digging through the past with Messiah's help, she uncovers a secret that was not meant to be shared, and an unexpected phone call reveals a terrible new crisis. |
| Date | July 20, 2010 |
Darkness has fallen as a handful of people begin emerging from their corners of the city towards a fountain in Central Park. Children are gone, parents taken them home long ago for dinner and the night animals and birds have come out. Water burbles from the angel perched above and in the center, coins in the fountain glint in the moonlight as a trio of the small gathering that will happen this evening, wait near bethesda fountain. The heat from the day bakes up from the ground, keeping the water warm long after the sun has fallen, a break in the heat that can be appreciated.
"Peter and Risa. He may or may not bring someone else." Abigail's accent unmistaken, even in the light cast on this section of central park by streetlamps and moon. Too much light from the city drowns out any stars in the sky, but who needs stars when you have the skyline of the city looming above the tree's.
"Lord" She murmurs, chafing her arms as Abigail paces, shorts, tank tops, cardigan and sneakers. Her forefinger taps over and over at a quickened beat against her upper arm. She's nervous.
Though she's normally a monochromatic sort of girl, Melissa is trying to wear more color lately. Today that means her a corset with hints of red and silver and a red plaid skirt along with the black fishnets and boots. "Someone else? Why would we need someone else?" she asks, having arrived with Abby. But while Abby paces, Mel is sitting on the edge of the fountain, one leg crossed over the other.
She smiles faintly. "And would you stop pacing? You're starting to make me nervous. Don't make me shove you in the fountain or something. It'd distract you," she teases, though there's something in her voice that suggests she's actually considering it. Maybe she's the one who's needs a distraction.
Three feet to the left of Melissa, Francois is seated as well, back bowed enough for him to cross his arms against angled knees. He's been distracted pretty much since they came together, cellphone in hand with the device periodically rotated around against his palm as if awaiting a call. Which, likely, he is, or keeping track of the time, though that's probably what the attractive analog wristwatch he wears is for. Denim is pulled over an untucked button down, a shade darker than his jeans, feet in sensible shoes of black leather.
"Perhaps for the same reason Abby needs us?" he offers.
Either Peter had forgotten the mention of Francois Allegre being here, or Abigail has an amazing knack for surprising him in the worst ways. Coming down the lamp-lit brick walkway, Peter's expression looks distastefully arranged into something resembling frustration. That he's wearing his paramedic uniform implies that he was out in the rig later than his estimates to Abby may have suggested, and also why he's late.
At Peter's side, a short and thin young brunette is easily mistaken for Eileen at a distance, from a similar penchant for loose, billowy dresses to the bird-like build of her narrow body, small nose and large eyes. But Risa Lynette up close bears only passing similarities to Eileen, and none in the realm of their abilities.
Behind the two, where Knox should have been, is an entirely unfamiliar face to any of the three there. Matthew Lacombe is a tall and lanky figure, dressed solely in black the way a waiter might be. Button down shirt with sleeves rolled up, slacks and dress shoes, all very uniform and clean. He's smiling, wavy hair swept back atop his head and hands tucked into the pockets of his slacks.
At a distance, Peter's greeting is a subtle wave of one hand, looking over his shoulder to Lacombe, then to his side to Risa. On approach he tries to measure out that frustration more evenly across his expression so as to not scowl. "Hey…" Peter offers as he approaches the fountain, looking at the upturned bricks still turn out of the plaza, stakes in the ground with police tape tattered and blowing in the breeze.
"You did'no tell me that we were meeting a woman quite like this, Peter…" Lacombe's accent is distinctly French, not having nearly as much time acclimating to English as Francois has had. "I recognize our little firecracker though," he adds with a waggle of brows to Melissa, then only an assessing stare at Francois.
"Sorry about being late, had a guy need to be hauled out of a Starbucks after he stopped breathing. Allergic reaction to something…" there's a dismissive wave of Peter's hand as he makes that excuse, looking at Francois only for a moment before turning his focus back to Abby. "Abby, this is Risa Lynette," and the brunette dips her head down in response, a silent greeting, "and Matthew Lacombe."
"I'm pacing because I'm nervous. Last time I was out here this late at night, I was meeting Adam Monroe for the first time" That was a looong time ago. But she stops pacing if only because there's the other half to their merry group coming and a twitch of her eye for Francois checking his phone as religiously as she checks hers. Teo related probably.
"Peter" A quick nod. Apologies may have been made and she may be acting nicer, but there's strangers, ones she doesn't know, except knows that they're all with Messiah. Lacombe's comment gets a raise of blonde brow arching up up up and then to Francois as she twists at the little gold cross that hangs so daintily at her neck. "Probably the cinnamon in their drinks. Be surprised how many people are allergic to cinnamon" It's Risa who garners her attention, easing forward to meet them halfway and coming to a halt in front of the woman. "Hello. I'm Abigail. I work with Peter in the rig. He told me that you were a post cognitive and might be able to help me with something" She's checking to see just how much peter went opening his mouth.
Francois's suggestion has Melissa frowning at him, but it seems less to do with unhappiness, and more to do with thoughtfulness. Finally she shrugs and glances over to the approaching trio. But while Lacombe may recognize her, she doesn't seem to recognize him at all. "Firecracker? Sorry, wrong ability, wrong woman. Thanks though," she says to him, nodding and smiling a bit.
Risa however, seems of more interest to Melissa, and she takes a minute to just look at the other woman with interest. But, sadly, she gets distracted and her eyes narrow as she looks at Abby. "Adam? Magnes's friend Adam? Dude who shot me Adam?" Oh wait, she never told Abby who shot her this last time. Or Francois. Or Peter. Oh well. Other things to worry about tonight, so she shakes her head and looks at Risa, awaiting Abby's answer.
Standing as soon as those three silhouettes over —> there seem to be headed there way, Francois can sort of only offer half a smile for Peter, a touch rueful. Mostly because it's difficult to decipher the slightly shadowed but undoubtedly disapproving glance his way — a distinct lack of handshake too! Francois does give Peter a nod of greeting anyway, before he glances over the other, far less familiar two, and slips cellphone into pocket, his arms coming to fold casual around his midsection.
Steps like a guard dog coming to heel, standing beside Abby. His attention crosses over to Lacombe, assessing stare met with one in kind. Careful neutrality. Kind of glad that Abby asked him along, now, in fact. He doesn't speak, at this juncture.
"Oh no, I know a firecracker when I see one, madmoiselle Pierce." There's a knife-like smile that cuts across Lacombe's lips as he looks from Melissa over to Francois, then over to the southern blonde with that smile creeping up again. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Abigail, Peter never told me he worked with such a beauty… I would have perhaps found reason to injure myself, non? Then you would have to perhaps fix me?"
"Lacombe," is a warning grated in the back of Peter's throat, and the Frenchman can only shrug his shoulders and raise his hands helplessly as if to say I did not wrong!! Waving one hand in the air and rolling his eyes, Lacombe turns to walk towards the edge of the fountain, only half interested in what's going on. He's had a briefing he doesn't need to hear it twice.
Dark lashes partly hide Risa's eyes as she's addressed, looking down to the bricks at her feet, small hands with long fingers folded behind her back. The warm night breeze blows across her black sundress, sending the bottom laced hem rustling across her knees. "Peter has explained that you need my… ability," and her voice has the faintest hint of a Russian accent behind it, "I— can help, possibly."
When her brown eyes alight to Abigail finally, Risa seems hesitant to continue. A nod of Peter's head and a hand on her shoulder seems to urge her to a more comfortable posture, even if still slightly stiff. "My control over… exact times, it is not always as precice as I would like. The further back in time I must go, the harder. A day ago I can pinpoint very accurately, a week ago… it can be hard, I know this is some time outside of a week, so… I will do my absolute best to try and get you the information you need."
Moving his hand from Risa's shoulder, Peter looks up and over to Abby. "What she means is, she might not get exactly what you want, but she's going to be willing to try. Risa's ability is extremely taxing on her though, and it'll be pretty hard on all of you too," Peter admits with a motion of his hand around to the trio he's come to meet. "Do you want to know what to expect or just… jump in feet first?"
"That's the most that anyone can ever do Risa. Try. If you didn't try, then you'd never know right?" Ignoring Lacombe. Of the Frenchmen present, Francois is the one that she far prefers hands down. Maybe any other day, the flirtation might have been smiled to, thrown back with a pat on the head. But this is also Peter's partner, and she's someone else's territory. Marked by Linderman, in maaaaaaany ways.
The adam question can be answered later. "There was an incident, here. Responsible for what you see. Two weeks ago I think. That's what I'm hoping that you'll be able to show. Clear something up for me. I brought Melissa and Francois here with me because Peter said that many other eyes would help to see the scene. Anything at all Risa, will be helpful" A friendly smile offered once more, hoping to gain a minute modicum of trust or relaxation from the woman.
"Should we all sit down? Or.. will we need lots of advil later" She's still riding her last does of negation drugs, there will be no burning woman in Central Park.
Melissa frowns at Lacombe's words to her. Normally she would also tell him to just call her Melissa. She's done it so many times in the past. But him she doesn't seem to mind not getting to be so informal. However, Abby's question of advil has her smiling at the other woman. "Now Abby. You keep taking pills to kill the pain, and I might start to get a complex," she teases. Then she's looking back to Risa. Not Peter, who asked the question she's answering, but Risa. "I'd like to know what to expect. Surprises tend to go very bad lately."
"You will not have to find reasons, monsieur," is Francois' first contribution to the meeting, more than a little off-track but spoken quietly, edged in icy politeness and speaking directly across to Lacombe as the other Frenchman moves past them and towards the fountain, "to find yourself injured, if you cannot focus." He doesn't move, standing where he is, just tracks progression over his shoulder before looking to Risa for an answer that concerns him too.
"Peter can explain what you will experience better, it is… different for you than it is for me," Risa notes with a partial lidding of her eyes, small voice never rising much above quiet and shy conversational tones. She lifts one hand, playing with an absent lock of long, dark hair as she turns her face towards her palm.
"It's like getting kicked in the head," is Peter's best explanation. "You're going to want to sit down, because you're going to wind up on the ground anyway. When Risa views the past, she psychically projects it out to people around her. She's like… I don't know, an inverse of what happened on June 10th. You'll be thrown into a vision of the past, seeing things from the perspectives of whereever it is you're standing as if you were there… it can last anywhere from a minute or two all the way to ten."
Rubbing his hands together, Peter looks over to Lacombe at the fountain, watching him swirling his hand in the water where chill mist is rising up around his fingers and slush is forming in the basin. The silent stare being offered from Lacombe to Francois is pointed, and already Peter feels like he would've been better off bringing Ash.
That makes him a little sad.
"Whatever you see, it's the same moment in time for everyone else. You're going to need to be close to Risa, a little out of arm's reach is okay. I'm not sure on her exact range. When it hits you your body is going to go limp and you're going to be helpless. I'm going to be staying away when this happens, so there's at least someone keeping an eye on everything just in case. I don't like the idea of all of us going for a blackout trip together in the middle of Central Park without some backup."
There's the red cheeks. Right. Mel. Pain.
ABigail turns to Melissa, palms up and pressed together in mea culpa. "I keep forgetting that Mel. I really shouldn't. You were a blessing in disguise. My ribs adore you" There will be apologies later for making the painkillers comment. Movie night at the theatre.
"Okay, so near Risa, sitting down, you'll make sure no one decides to take the opportunity to rob us. May or may not be what we want to see, but we'll see something" Better than nothing and if they can't see anything, well, Abby's going to have to go back to the drawing board, consult Francois.
Knee's bend, Abigail levering herself down to the warm pavement sos he can find a comfortable spot to shit, make sure there's no bugs making a run for her while beckoning for the other participants to come on down. "Concussions, for all my friends. Coming slushie?" This at Lacombe.
"Body's going to go limp?" Melissa asks, glancing down at her skirt, then sighing. "I guess it's a good thing I wore nice panties, since I'll probably end up flashing everyone," she says, flashing an impish grin that seems a little forced. But she moves from her spot on the edge of the fountain, glancing to Lacombe and fighting a shiver. Cold is baaaaad. So instead she just moves to settle herself down next to Abby, careful to keep her skirt smoothed down as much as possible.
An arm is slung around Abby's shoulders and there's another grin, more real this time. "It's all good hon. I'll steal your pain anyway. I know you didn't mean it." Her arm is dropped and she leans back, propped up on her arms as she starts softly singing part of 'Broken' under her breath while waiting for the show to start. "There's so much left to learn and no one left to fight. I wanna hold you high and steal your pain." Unfortunately, it's off key, and Abby suffers more than anyone else.
Hmmm. Dilemma. Francois is last standing for a moment, besides those not deigning to participate, conflicted for all of two seconds before he slides his cellphone out his pocket, compulsively checks the wee screen, and then tosses the device underhand to Peter. "If anyone calls," and he's working hard not to catch Abby's eye as he says this, "then take it for me? S'il vous plait?" Maybe it's because he's a doctor~ now as opposed to being a control freak crazy girlfriend sometimes.
Maybe. With that taken care of, Francois moves to sit down, too, shoulder brushing Abby's (and Melissa's hand, by extension) and looking a little uncomfortable with this whole affair, but sparing a suggestion of a smile at the corner of his mouth for the two women in arrived with.
Catching the phone, Peter furrows his brows and looks down to it, turning it over in his hands and looking momentarially confused, then nods his head and curls his fingers around it, already starting to walk to clear the distance between himself and the Russian postcognitive.
"Firecracker~," Lacombe echoes in a sing-song voice as he rises from the fountain, slush and water darkening his sleeve and wetting his arm. With a glance down to his hand a wave of frost rises up off of Lacombe's arm and freezes the water, then with a tension ofhis brows all of the ice shatters down off of his sleeve into tiny snowflakes. "I thought I was to be the, ah, watch man? Do you not trust me to keep my hands to myself, Peter?"
Dark eyes look up to Lacombe and Peter manages something of a diplomatic smile. "Negators get to stay out of the effect, it seems like a better idea." Shrugging dismissively, Lacombe walks over towards where Risa is standing away from the fountain, then folds his legs and sinks down into a cross-legged position with his hands folded into his lap and his eyes askance to Peter with one brow raised.
"It's going to… probably hurt too, you'll be dizzy afterward," Risa warns with a furrow of her brows as she moves to kneel down in the center of the seated people, carefully moving the length of her dress and resting her hands on her knees. "Are…" there's a moment of hesitance as she closes her eyes. "Is everyone ready? You should be as alert as you can to details… try to explain what you saw as soon as you come to, it can fade like a dream; fast."
"I bet you're real popular when you accidentally have an ability fart" Abigail murmurs, cringing at Mel's voice. She's not even going to sit, nope, now she's laying back, saving the back of her head or front, from any chance impact. "Ready" She calls out, like some game of marco polo or John boy saying good night. She's closing her eye's expecting that the others will give their assent and assurance too. Her hand sneaks out, squeezing Francois's knee before letting go.
Melissa turns to look back at Lacombe. "Keep your hands off me and Abby or I'll show you a better title for me," she warns, sounding like she means it. She turns back to Risa. "Yep. And don't worry about the pain. I've got that covered. Just stay close afterwards or you're on your own. And Abby? Francois? It's not a request for you two. You guys have helped me, it's my turn." Then she lays back as well, legs crossing at the ankles to prevent too much accidental flashing.
"Understood, demoiselle," is for Melissa, solemnly spoken, and with one glance swept across the two strangers and Peter's more distant presence, Francois reluctantly eases back as well. A hand comes to lay upon Abby's wrist, about as light as the insects they'd gone to visit just the other day that alight on shoulders and heads if you're lucky enough. A smog-choked summer night of stars is a different kind of pretty to butterfly wings, and a mild and apologetic comfort for the dirty pavement and nearing vulnerability.
"I like you," Lacombe murmurs as he looks askance to Melissa, lips curling up to reveal a toothy smile, "you are all prickle and stab…" The comment Abby offers engenders the first look of emotion on Risa's face; guilt and nervousness. She looks up and past the group, towards Peter, then over to Lacombe and Melissa. There's enough familiar faces that she needn't go into a panic, but her words for Abigail are as warning as the soft-spoken young woman can manage.
"That's why they locked me in Moab…" and that somewhat dry comment is laced with enough tension that as Risa's brows furrow and her lips downturn into a frown, it becomes very evident that—
"Are you serious?" The voice that rings out is clearly Gabriel Gray's, full of tension and anger as he looms like a darl silhouette by the shadow of the fountain's angel. "How about your extremely important project in the Ferry will collapse if she's dead because we didn't use the resources we had? Teo." Back up is demanded in those two Americanised syllables.
Teodoro Laudani isn't far away, pacing around with a cell phone held up to his ear, head shaking slowly from side to side as he listens to something on the other end. There's a hiss of breath ashe flips the phone shut, stepping into conversational range again in the glow of the lamp-lit plaza. "Someone turned her phone off. Means someone moved her phone. We might be able to get a lock on it, how accurate depends on whether or not Eileen started leaving the GPS chips in them after Wireless got back. Look, Jensen, we have to at least try that."
And there he is, the King of Swords, standing near a smoking crater in the brickwork where blood, bones and gore reveal the mangled remains of what must have been more than one person, so horribly disfigured that they are recognizable a little more than meat. The horrifying thing about Risa's ability, is that the smell of cooked human flesh permeates through the vision along with all of the other senses. It really is like being in the moment.
"The rest has to wait, anyway." Until morning. Until the pigs get their act together, little powdered gloves, photographs, microscopes, logs and databases. Until Raith decides he is going to risk asking Kershner get her mitts on one of these corpses, as a personal favor. Until Eileen has been gone long enough to qualify in legally definable terms as a missing person.
It's almost courtesy to Raith, that Teodoro making this proposal a proposal, his fingers curling around his radio unit, not yet on transmission. He is probably going to do it anyway, but pack bonds hold for now. "Wireless knows how to keep her trap shut. I can do it while we walk."
"Her phone was turned off or the battery died," Raith interjects to provide an alternative, "Both of you just listen. We need this council to work or the Institute is going to steamroll us. If she's missing, then it doesn't work, and we lose."
It takes the spy a moment to reorganize his thoughts, try a different approach. "In one week, the council picks go up for vote. Eileen's already on it, but if she's missing, everyone will think the network is compromised-" Of course, the network is compromised, but that can be kept a secret for now- "And the council will fail. We just need to keep this from becoming general knowledge for a week. We'll keep investigating ourselves. Talk to Wireless, fine. Have her dig through police computers and see what turns up, but we have to keep this quiet at least until the vote's done, and that's only in one week. Can you guys just give me one week?" Desperation is unbecoming of Jensen Raith. But desperate is exactly what he sounds like at this time. The council is essential for more than just the Ferrymen. It's essential for the whole city.
If Gabriel had hackles, they'd be up. Falling rain has the effect of patting everything down, including the feathers of an overly large and old looking raven; Bran, for those familiar with the bird. It might just be the light weight of the awkward bird in his arms that stops him from doing something appropriately manly. "One week," he sneers. "How long do you think it takes for him— " But there, he scissors off his words, disgust and reemerging anger silencing him because it's useless. He's not the one who has the connections that Teo is rattling out — he's the one that would solo wolf it anyway.
"What's important to you, what's important to her," Gabriel grinds out, words deliberate, "is not worth her. But your week is your own. I suggest you use it to do whatever it takes."
This is probably a bad place to have this conversation. Awkwardly, he tucks the watch into a jacket pocket. "I found him once bef—
"— at do you mean he's missing?" By the time reality comes throbbing back for all those involved, Peter's voice is practically a shout across the plaza. Gone is the rain of the past, gone is the stink of burning bodies and the vision of echoes from weeks ago viewed from the position of the ground. "Look, no— Eileen, if they have Teo then we need to do something about it. I can't— " Only now hearing Risa's groan of pain as she rolls from her side, Peter's voice falters. "I have to go, Francois will call you back." There's a snap of the phone shut and Peter is hustling back over.
Risa looks worse for wear, eyes bloodshot, dark circles bruised around her eyes and a line of blood wetting her upper lip beneath her nose, which she is frantically trying to wipe away in the hopes of looking stronger than she is.
Peter was right, it does feel like getting kicked in the head, but so does, "Francois, we have a problem."
Oh heavenly hosts and everything else, Abby's coming to after this bought of ability use that makes her very much thankful that Joseph's aren't like that.
Okay, not normally like that.
There's Raith, Gabriel, Teo, and they're gathered around the fountain covering up something that happened to Eileen. Has to be Eileen they're talking about. Throught he quick conversation, she tries to watch and listen best she can and when it's done, over with, she's laying there, eye's closed and waiting for the aforementioned dizziness to leave her.
But speak of the devil, Eileen is on the phone. Boy. BOY will there be a conversation to be had with her, or at least with the one person who was imitating her.
"Eileen got hurt" Hurt from the sounds of it, kidnapped too. Was she still kidnapped?
There's a soft groan as Melissa sits up, a hand pressed against her head. It takes a moment for her to get her ability going, but then she flings it out over the two beside her, along with Risa. "Jesus Christ I never wanna do that shit again," she mutters. "Who's missing? And I hope someone understood that shit more than I do. Because I'm not at all sure what the fuck I just saw." And with that said, she lays back down, hand still pressed to her head.
Ow and ow. Francois is rolling away from Abigail, climbing to hands and knees as that initial shock of painful dizziness spins his world until Melissa's ability cloaks at least one facet of that, but he's still having some trouble seeing straight. "I saw Jensen," he offers, even while some other, slightly disjointed piece of his brain is working through some words he just heard, and— his attention snaps towards Peter, green eyes expressive of little else than some mix of surprise and fear from where he kneels on slightly slick pavement.
And then demand, a hand going out to grip the younger man's arm and force himself to his feet, numb fingeredly reaching for his phone that he's not registering as hung up right now. "What? What happened?" Memories of the vision are leaving like a flock taken to flight in favour of the present minute.
Groaning noisily, Lacombe pushes himself up from where he'd slouched over to the side, one hand pressed to his forehead. "Three men speaking… I— heard the name Teo, Jensen… Eileen. They were discussing a— a council? It— someone was missing, I think this Eileen. Sylar was there," that much is pointedly noted to Peter by Lacombe. "He was very upset."
Peter offers a quick askance look to Lacombe, then crouches down beside Francois to help him to his feet. Suddenly, in the face of something this serious, Peter's strained relationship with the Frenchman is put aside. "Eileen called while you were all out, she says something happened. I couldn't get everything of what she was saying, there was noise in the background on her end. But I think she said something about Teo being taken by the Institute…"
Holding the phone out to Francois, Peter swallows tightly and shakes his head from side to side. "I'm sorry," he admits in a hushed tone of voice, "I don't know anything else. We— we won't let them keep him, I promise." Turning his attention down to Risa, Peter crouches again, laying a hand on her shoulder before moving his fingers under her chin, lifting her face up and looking in her eyes, as if that were important.
"You're okay," is relief to the Russian as she slouches forward and exhales a wheezing cough into one cupped hand. Turning his attention to Melissa and Abby, Peter seems a bit divided in attention. "Is everybody alright, did— did it work?" One crisis at a time.
Teo is taken by the institute. That's not good. Not at all. Abigail's starting to sit, letting Peter and Francois talk about that. So much as it alarms her and hits her that he has been taken, she needs to get out what she saw as well, and heard before it could disappear and dissipate from her mind. "Jensen, beggin them for time, Gabriel said he'd found him before… they were here, not long after whatever happened here. Lord"
How co-incidental is that? That something happens to Eileen the day after Susan and the fitzpatricks talk about Central park being the place they chose for something to go down.
There's an upside to the iphone and she's babbling into it, recording evvvverything she can think of.
Eileen is getting a fucking visit. Oh yes she is. "Mel, you okay? Francois?" A glance to 'slushie' and a nod for what he saw.
There's a quick look to Lacombe, and Melissa adds him to the group of people to be painfree, then she closes her eyes, not noticing that she's her own nose has started to bleed. A hand stretches out towards Francois in a comforting gesture that probably loses most of its oomph since she's laying down and pale. "Frenchboy, you know I'll help get your boy back. It's the least I can do for you."
There are a few slow breaths taken before Mel speaks again. "Yeah, Sylar and Raith. Ferry council. Cooked bodies. Wireless. Eileen. Teo. One week for…Raith to do something." Another pause, and Mel shrugs slightly. "I'll be fine. More worried about Teo. First Gillian, now him? Someone get me fucking Luis or Suresh or anyone else from the Institute, and I'll make damn sure they tell us everything there is to know about that fucking place so I can destroy it. Every. Last. Fucking. Brick." She was serious in her threat to Lacombe earlier, but this goes beyond just serious.
Chin tucked in, Francois is observing his phone as if it might tell him more, the missing holes in Peter's report, before he's tucking the device back into a pocket and nodding at the other man in gratitude, mouth in a small line and attention gone scattered. A glance back towards the two women has Francois swiftly moving, coming to crouch and kneel a knee down next to Melissa. His hand closes around her's as if misinterpreting her gesture of reassurance as one of need for help. She certainly looks a little awful, pale as she is with starker red smearing across her upper lip.
"I think they were discussing someone familiar," he adds to the conversation, although it's certainly sounds like it's coming from a distant place. "As well as intending to hide it. Melissa, do you need anything?"
"I'm sorry…" Risa quietly apologizes as Peter helps her up to her shaky footing, "that— I did not go back far enough." Chastisement aside, that she is still able to peel back images of the past with her mind is not really something to be apologizing about. Peter offers her only a fleeting — yet sharp — look about letting herself be so easily dragged down by failures, before attention goes back to Abby.
"Did you get at least something to help you? Risa won't be able to do something that far back again for a couple weeks without risking something more than just hemmorhaging…" which in and of itself is pretty serious, which is probably why Peter keeps looking back to Melissa intermittantly.
"After what I just heard I need to get back to— where— I came from." Hesitance in offering too much up, Peter creases his brows and offers a shake of his head instead. "I'm going to get Rebel and Rupert together and we're going to come up with a plan, trust me we— we'll find Teo and we'll get him back. Rebel's intercepted the Instutute before, we can do it again."
"Oui," Lacombe finally admits groggily, pulling himself up to stand, tracks of icy handprints spotted on the brick. "Government dogs to be found and," he snaps his fingers, creating a pop of ice crystals from between them like snowflake sparks, "just like that, our problems — and theirs — are so much dust on the wind."
"Don't you dare leave Francois out of anything involving Teo. You will keep him up to date, or so help me Peter Petrelli, I will go back to working in the bay or worse, I will quit my job and stick you with the Vegan" She will, he knows it. Francois is attending to Melissa, Peter to Risa and she sits there with her arms across her knee's head down.
'I got something Risa, something that I think, I think will help. Thank you very much for what you did, I owe you. If you need anything, please let Peter know and he'll.. let me know"
"Peter, what we saw, is Ferry business. Focus on Teo. I'll.. I have this. I'll… get to the bottom of this" Hopefully before the meet, maybe not. Something did go down here.
Blue eyes open and settle on Francois, and Melissa looks confused. "I'll be fine," she repeats. "Don't worry, I won't pass out on you again," she says with a faint smile. And then, for the first time, she looks at Peter. "I want to be in on that plan." Translation: If she isn't in on that plan, someone's gonna be hurting, or she's going to do something stupid. Maybe both. Then she's giving Francois's hand a squeeze and pulling herself upright. "For now…I just want to get in a bed and pass the fuck out."
Francois is left crouching on pavement and with no one to tend to, hands idle and mind running like a hamster in a wheel before he reluctantly gets to his feet, giving Melissa some help up at least. Abby's sharp words communicate most of what he would want to insist for himself, remaining a quiet and understated presence as he fidgets with the sleeves of his jacket.
"Please," he states, after a moment, looking towards Peter. "If you are to do anything for him, let me come with you. Assist you."
Lacombe and Risa both look at Peter on Francois request, putting the leader of Messiah on the spot rather immediately. There's a doubtful, worried look that crosses Peter's face as he ducks his head down, then steps over towards Francois, looking over his shoulder to the fountain and the chunks of ice drifting in the water under the glow of the street lamps. "I can't take you with me where I'm going, not right now," sounds more dramatic than the truth really is, offered in hushed quality to Francois, "but I can keep you close by."
"Melissa," Peter offers with a look to the blonde, "Take Francois home with you if he wants to come, I'm going to figure out what Rebel knows and then come meet you at your house. We'll go over the details there, and then…" then what? For a moment seeming lost in the role of a leader, Peter looks back to Francois, finding some inspiration in the Frenchman's profile and the faint, distant memories he has of him from another life.
"Then we'll get everyone we can together," Peter impresses onto Francois with a crease of his brows, "then we do exactly what Melissa said. We find them, we rescue Teo, and Gillian and whoever else they've taken, and we tear everything they've built down around us as we go."
"Brick by brick," Risa echoes, her dark brows furrowing in like frustration to the situation at hand. Lacombe approaches the two, both of his brows raised and hands clapping together amusedly.
"What are we waiting for then?" he asks with a broad, happy smile ad Peter dips his head down into a slow nod, taking a step back from the group with one wary look at Abby, then eyes on Francois and Melissa.
"I'll be in touch," is as much of a promise as Peter can make.
But something has to be done.