Participants:
| Scene Title | Raines Revealed |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | The invisible man, becomes visible for a short while so he can be a gentleman, to a lady |
| Date | January 6,2008 |
Standing in the ruins of Midtown, it's hard to believe New York is still a living city.
There's life enough around the fringes — the stubborn, who refused to rebuild somewhere else; the hopeful, who believe the radiation is gone, or that they somehow won't be affected. Businesses, apartment complexes, taxis and bicycles and subways going to and fro — life goes on. Perhaps more quietly than in other parts of the city, shadowed by the reminder that even a city can die, but it does go on.
Then there is the waste. The empty core for which the living city is only a distant memory. Though a few major thoroughfares wind through the ruins, arteries linking the surviving halves, and the forms of some truly desperate souls can occasionally be glimpsed skulking in the shadows, the loudest noise here is of the wind whistling through the mangled remnants of buildings. Twisted cords of rebar reach out from shattered concrete; piles of masonry and warped metal huddle on the ground, broken and forlorn. Short stretches of road peek out from under rubble and dust only to disappear again shortly afterwards, dotted with the mangled and contorted forms of rusting cars, their windows long since shattered into glittering dust.
There are no bodies — not even pieces, not anymore. Just the bits and pieces of destroyed lives: ragged streamers fluttering from the handlebar which juts out of a pile of debris; a flowerbox turned on its side, coated by brick dust, dry sticks still clinging to the packed dirt inside; a lawn chair, its aluminum frame twisted but still recognizable, leaning against a flight of stairs climbing to nowhere.
At the center of this broken wasteland lies nothing at all. A hollow scooped out of the earth, just over half a mile across, coated in a thick layer of dust and ash. Nothing lives here. Not a bird; not a plant. Nothing stands here. Not one concrete block atop another. There is only a scar in the earth, cauterized by atomic fire. This is Death's ground.
There's no singing this time as Abby trespasses on the midtown ruins. Destination: Library. It's a pit stop really. There's a reuseable grocery bag with her purse over her shoulder, filled with goodies for those who reside within the library's walls. Not all of them can live like a normal person and she likes to compensate for that. She's constantly looking around though, each shadow is stared at for a few moments, her breath curling out into the air. The below freezing weather makes things crisp, clear. Keeps one awake and alert. She's plotting a nap in her mind, at the library, get herself back onto schedule.
That nap will have to wait, however. And so will the handing out of goodies. A bit of rubble not too far away crumbles and gives way under the weight of… nothing? "Haha!" Then, a voice. Out of nowhere - or everywhere, what with the echoes. Abby may come to recognize it, even if she's only heard it once. Claude appears, then, making his toward Abby from her right, head tilted high and amusement clear on his features. "I knew it! Soon as I heard of a healer, I knew it."
He startles her, first with the rubble, then the voice. Blonde hair going this way and that as she looks. When he appears though, the voice, it ticks in her mind. "My Christmas miracle" Abby remains where she is, One hand tight on the bags, the other resting close against her in it's cloth cradle. "Will I get a name to attach to the man who God sent to save me?"
Claude can't help but chuckle at Abby's caution, and though he confidently proceeds in her direction, he holds up his hands in an attempt to make clear he means no harm. "God? Sending me?" Again, he laughs. "Claude Rains." He offers, stopping a little while from her. "And I don't think I'd show up on the big man's radar. I like to think I make my own decisions."
No harm. The lines in her body stop tensing. "You saved me, from a rather… terrible fate, so I can keep doing God's work. While you may not think it, I do" That prompts a smile from the blonde who closes the gap between him and her, goes up on her toes and plants a kiss on his cheek. "One of the three wise men, but instead of bearing gold, frankincense or myrrh, you bore a brick and it seems, invisibility. For that, Mr. Raines, I'm in your debt" The rest of his words though, surface. "As soon as you heard of a healer?" She takes a step back, not out of fear but more out of respect for ones personal space.
Claude almost steps back to avoid the peck on the cheek, if only out of sheer surprise. The abashed grin that's on his face after the act looks a bit out of place on a man usually so confident of himself. Ahem! "Ah, hitting that killer over the head with a brick on Christmas Eve was worth it. Letting you off the hook was just a bonus." Then, in answer to her question, "You're off to the library, am I right?" Better make sure before answering her question properly.
The secret handshake, special words, it's all given by Abby before she even answers his next question, blushing at the grin on his face. Provided that Claude can tell her back the password, Abby nods. "Coffee, food. I try and check in, see if anythings needed. I'm not part of them, not anymore. But, when they need me, they call. Or I check in. Fresh fruit, vegetables, cook. your a new addition though"
"Just an ally." Claude explains, scratching at his face absentmindedly before he starts to walk toward the library. "Lot of fledgelings there, need to learn to fend for themselves. Thought I'd try to teach 'em how." He peers back over his shoulder, perhaps to see if Abby is following. "Whether they want to or not."
Abby's following. "Impart your knowledge and then move of, when your work isn't needed anymore?" Abby slides the bag off her shoulder and passes it over to him. She's been carrying it and it's heavy, her way of asking if he'd carry it for a bit. "Met him again. Save god sent SCOUT to keep him from taking my faith again. And he didn't get a chance to give me a crown of blood" She falls into step beside Claude. "Thank you, really. For that night. I don't think I can ever thank you enough for it. You told me to run, or I would have stopped and thanked you then"
Claude takes the bag, surprised for a moment, but appears to have a deal less of trouble handling the weight. The surprise is wiped off of his his face when Abby mentions she's met Sylar again, though. He'd expected it, knowing Sylar, but it's still not good news. "You'll have to watch out for him. He won't give up. Knowing what you can do will be enough reason for him to keep trying. Maybe not today, maybe not this week, but you have to stay alert. We all do." He looks askance at her, "I would have followed you to make sure you were okay if I didn't think Sylar would be right behind me."
"I don't think I'm ever going to stop looking for him. He's backing off, for right now. I have a weeks reprieve, two if I'm lucky. A deal with the devil so to speak. Covers anyone who tries to take a run at me this week" That doesn't stop the blonde from looking around none the less. "You okay? He didn't hurt you too bad? I haven't healed anyone today, so, I have the energy, I can fix you" She stops, looking over him carefully, what little she can see of him.
Cute. In a puppydog way. Claude chuckles once more, shaking his head. "No, I'm fine. A few scrapes and bruises, probably healed by now." He doesn't even bother checking anymore, after so many years of scuffles and fights (provoked and not). Hell, he could have a bruised rib and he'd still be trying to walk it off. "Sounds like you've got things pretty well covered on your end."
"I try" which equates to, not always successful. "I'll have a week of peace, and we could all use some peace. vacation now and then. Oh! I didn't introduce myself" Dork, Abby offers her hand to him. "Abigail Beauchamp. Faith healer, and yes, it works. How'd you know though, that I'm the healer? Maybe I was.. evolved and had control over.. water, or something else Sylar would be interested in"
At that, Claude's grin fades into something a little more reluctant. "I'd…" He pauses, grip on the bag tightening. "I didn't… just arrive when I made the move to rescue you. I'd been there a while. I just… he's unpredictable." He quickens his pace, frowning, and speaking with more determination now, "I needed to wait for the right moment, catch him off guard, before I could even think of coming closer."
"Hey…" Abby's tone softens, if it could anymore and she quickens her own steps to catch up with him. "I'm not judging you. You do, what you have to do, we all do, what we have to do. I've been on the receiving end twice. I understand. It's okay." She reach's out, try to touch his arm and make him slow. "You helped, you helped when even distracted, he could still have done something to hurt you. I forgive you Mr. Raines, if you need it. Come on. I healed Sylar. I mean, the guy was gonna be good as dead and a popsicle… if I hadn't. or near close"
Claude slows, but with little sign of accepting Abby's kindness. "Would've been nicer to avoid it though, yeah?" If anything, he doesn't seem to want to linger on the subject. Perhaps not used to people being so damn forgiving. "He'll get himself hurt again, the way he's living. But— come on, let's get inside. No use dying of pneumonia before he does."
'Be nicer to avoid getting shots from doctors, and from having to register a faith, be nicer to learn without making mistakes. You said it yourself. You needed to wait for the right moment. Means you intended, and you followed through. We all wait for the right moments before striking. But yes, we should. I need to tell Helena some things I found out while I was making my deal. Come on" She offers her arm to him, the good one, in such a way as to say 'offering my arm to a gentleman' 'We're alive. We're breathing, and that's reason any day to celebrate and I need coffee. Which your holding and I want a donut, which your holding as well. " There's a pause "Besides, I could cure pneumonia. So don't worry about that"
All this friendliness is not something Claude is used to. Not anymore, at least. It's something of another age, another time. Another life. He actually looks around for a moment, as though to check nobody is watching, before accepting the arm and leading her further to the building. "Strange one, you." He mutters, though it's not necessarily a complaint. Then again, steadfast optimism has never done anything to confuse the so-called realists.
 January 6th: Pride Goeth Before the Fall |
 January 6th: Attitude |