Participants:
| Scene Title | Personal Business |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Matt wants a favor from the acting Company director. |
| Date | June 20, 2009 |
Primatech Research: Sabra's Office
It's been a while since Agent Parkman came to Primatech Research for any reason. Long enough that many reasons invent themselves for the relative paucity of people in the halls — there are people, but they seem to be fewer and farther between. Still, all the checkpoints are properly manned, and at each one the agent is considered before being passed through. He does, after all, have an appointment — and his identity checks out, on every level.
Sabra's office looks the same as it always has, however, the warm colors of its decor welcoming in comparison with the patchy gray clouds outdoors. Ashton's silent presence is inevitable, the aide greeting the visitor with a polite smile and tip of his head, opening the door for Parkman to enter.
"Matthew," the elderly lady behind the desk says. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"
He's walked these halls so many times with his eyes straight forward and his thoughts focused. Today is only slightly different. Parkman still moves with determination, but his shoulders are hunched as if he's expecting each person to strike out at him, and his mind flits from thought to thought with reckless abandon. It's only once he steps into Sabra's office that he's able to corral them into any semblance of control.
"Sabra," he says with a sigh, his skin paler and the circles under his eyes much darker since his last visit. There's still a rather heavy gathering of stubble on his jaw as well. "I'm sure it won't be a pleasure for very long." Parkman's voice is a grumble. "I need information. A lot of it. And I need to know you have my back." Despite the coal-like intensity of his eyes, there is a glimmer of desperation in them. Parkman needs someone to trust — and he needs it badly.
"You never do come just to visit, Matthew," the elderly woman allows. It's not a chide, though it resembles one; Sabra knows the realities of business well. She folds her hands on her desk, regarding her supplicant calmly. "Until and unless you endanger my people, Agent Parkman, I am certain something can be arranged," the woman replies, tone level, nonchalant. "But remember, not even I can give you information I do not have." She nods briefly to Ashton as he takes a seat on the sideline, observing impassively. "What are you looking for?"
Parkman comes further into the office, resting behind one of the chairs the office's design dictates he sits in. But Parkman merely settles his hands on the back of it as a support, as well as something to hold tightly. "I'm looking for Arthur Petrelli," he almost whispers, "and any information you have that will help me put him in a very deep, dark hole for a very, very long time."
One silvered brow arches at Parkman's request. "I have very little, Matthew," she replies, "that is apt to be admissible in any legal proceeding." He knows how the Company works, and legally isn't really it, HomeSec connections or no. "In fact," Sabra continues, "much of what I do have relates to the Company alone, and comes from a future that is no longer relevant." Unless he wants old history, but that's still venturing into the realm of trade secrets.
The man trembles at the notion of ammunition for a gun he doesn't carry. After a deep breath, his fingers tighten on the chair and he nods. "I am prepared to help arrange a deal. Information in exchange for immunity. Sabra," Matt's eyes lift to search hers, "Sabra, I need anything you have. Please."
There is another sigh, and Parkman lets his eyes slide shut for a moment as he steadies himself. "I went to Pinehearst to look for…for my father. He had Molly. And he…Sabra, I have no idea what you're thinking. What anyone's thinking."
Sabra inclines her head. "Not an outcome I could have hoped for, but I cannot honestly claim to be surprised," she replies, on the subject of Parkman's power loss. "Perhaps next time, you will remember that Homeland Security has an… arrangement… with us for a reason." And not go confront the dragons all alone.
The elderly lady tilts her head slightly, blue gaze level upon her guest. "What are the terms of your 'deal', Parkman?" What can he offer that has enough advantage to the Company to offset the loss of information?
It couldn't have been an easy task — walking into Sabra's office, and walking out again a few minutes later with the necessary files with which to use as a foundation for his case. Of course it couldn't.
Parkman steadies himself anew and nods. Of course. "They're a rival biotech firm, aren't they? Cutting into your business?" Be it private or government contracted. "When I bring them down, I'll gift-wrap their research for you. All their notes. Hell, if their scientists are held culpable? You'll get first pick of the ones that don't get thrown behind bars. I swear it to you." Not that it is his to swear, but even Parkman has a little pull.
A little pull. Not that much pull, once the system gets its teeth into Pinehearst, if it ever does. Sabra looks across the desk at Parkman, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips, her expression wry and faintly amused. "Promising more than you can actually provide, Parkman, is a dangerous, dangerous thing."
She sits back in her chair, continuing to regard the former telepath steadily. "You offer something the Company already has and a promise you cannot uphold; nothing, in fact, which benefits the institution that is my responsibility. No, I don't believe I shall take that 'deal'."
But she doesn't seem to be quite finished, either. One silvered brow arches as she watches Parkman. "If you're prepared to make it personal, Matthew, there may be a different ending to the story." The wise man quits while he's ahead — but wisdom isn't what brought him here.
"It already is personal, Sabra," Parkman fumes, but he soon brings himself under control once more. "I didn't make it that way, but it is. Sabra I…" He swallows, "I'm not here officially. I'm here… as a friend." If he can be considered as one.
Sabra chuckles softly. "Then don't offer deals as an Agent, Matthew," she replies. "Not when you should know full well our standing arrangement provides many of the same things." Where 'our' refers to their respective institutions, even if Parkman is not here in his Agent capacity. She gestures to Ashton, who dips his head and rises from his seat, slipping into the next room. "Are you certain you want this, Matthew?" Being in Sabra's debt is probably not a good thing.
But Matt is already in the debt of so many - Linderman far from the least among them. "Yes," he answers without hesitation. "I want this." Information is information. What Matt does with it, on the other hand, is something else entirely.
"Very well. Ashton will meet you in the lobby," Sabra replies, inclining her head. "For what it's worth, Matthew," she adds, before the meeting is deemed adjourned, "I hope everything works out for you and Molly."