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| Scene Title | The Stains of Time |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | I hurt myself today; To see if I still feel; I focus on the pain; The only thing that's real |
| Date | July 16, 2021 |
In the quiet of his small apartment, Godfrey wordlessly poured a glass of scotch.
To be fair he needed it.
He had been reduced to running numbers and being an errand boy. Not that he wasn’t thankful to Monica, but there were things he missed. Like his apartment at Yamagato. Add on the dreary view out the window and the fact it blocked a lot of what he needed. The sun. Despite his new power and Monica’s generous gift of a sunlamp - what did he expect when he complained about it? - it felt like his world was off.
But really, had it ever felt right?
Godfrey set the glass down gently on the mirrored surface of his baby grand - smuggled out of Yamagato for him - the other hand tugging his tie off. He looked… downtrodden and put upon, eyes not really focused on anything, except maybe to the past. The tie tossed next to the glass and finally Godfrey settled on the bench. After loosening a few top buttons, he tenderly settled his fingers on the keys, brushing them like a lover. Pressing a key, the solitary sound seemed to immediately chase away the day's stress. Just something about the piano always calmed him.
After a few bars, he settles into the familiar chords of a song and softly sings with the somber melody. As the music fills the room, he lets his mind drift back to a time before.
To see if I still feel
I focus on the pain
The only thing that's real
In The Past…
Before, Before.
“America!?”
Godfrey knew it would be a mistake to tell his father and had debated not telling him. Yet, he convinced himself it was better than just leaving. Already he was revisiting that idea, lips pressed tight he listened to his father berate him. “Are you out of your bloody mind?” Jack Wells was furious about his son’s announcement that he was leaving. On either side of him, his other two grown children sat silently and watched the exchange like a tennis match. Heads moving from one side to the other as words are backhanded across the table. It didn’t stop them from stuffing their faces. Fights between father and son were common occurrences. “You’re going to abandon your family and everythin’ you’ve built here for America just like your mum?!?”
In the past, that anger might have made Godfrey cow and bend to his father’s will, but when he hit puberty something in him changed. After that, he’d decided to go to college rather than become a police officer. That had never set well with his family.
And so the arguments started.
“Let’s face it, father. You’ve hardly treated me as family as far back as I can remember and all because I wasn’t another mini-you and put on the bloody uniform.” The comment cuts deep, Godfrey knows it and it didn't sting just his father. He’d never been the same type of person as his brother, Marcus, and sister, Sandra. He felt out of place. A star peg trying to fit into a square hole.
Which is why he had needed to go, with or without his father’s blessing. He wouldn't figure himself out sticking around there. “Victoria…”
“Pfft. Victoria.” The name rolled off his father’s tongue like an insult or something beneath him. The tone was enough to make Godfrey bristle and curl fingers into a tight fist. Jack either didn’t notice or didn’t care about his son’s reaction. With a dismissive flip of his hand, he turned his attention back to the food on his plate, but not without one more verbal slap to his son's face. “She’s just a bloody tourist you met at some pub and gave you a good shag.”
Next to their father, Sandra choked on her food and Markus had to stifle a laugh. Godfrey’s face flush red with embarrassment. He’d never been the handsome lady killer his brother was. He was the bespeckled nerd. Better for getting help on homework or have your taxes done. When he met Victoria, she’d been all about him.
“She’s more than that! S-she…” Godfrey was frustrated and flustered. For over a year, the pair had been in a long distance relationship and now Victoria was asking him to move across the pond. “We love each other.”
His father scoffed and shook his head in disappointment. “You keep telling yourself that, Godfrey. You're too young to properly understand what that even means,” His father fired back, clearly unconvinced. He let his youngest son fume while he took a moment to thoughtfully chew a couple bites of food.
Godfrey’s appetite was long gone.
“Furthermore,” Jack started, setting his fork down again so he could point at Godfrey. “It’s not just family you’re leaving, boy, you have a job at one of the best…”
“Stop!” Godfrey roared, fists banging on the table which made dishes rattle and his glass tip over. His father would never be happy with his decisions. Never really had been. “Victoria says there’s this place looking for accountants… she…” Godfrey stopped. His father, who sat like a stubborn old gargoyle. Solid and unmoved by words. Suddenly he didn't feel like finishing the thought. What was the point? Moving to get to his feet, Godfrey gives a long sigh. “Know what, father? I’m not doing this any longer, I don’t owe you an explanation. I’m going and that’s the bloody end of it.”
Jack’s eyes narrowed and he looked like he might argue more, but then he sighed. “You know what. Fine. Go to bloody America. Go be with that blonde bimbo, but don’t come crawling back when that woman takes you for all you’ve got and leaves you penniless. And don't look to m’ sister’s family over there either.” With that said, he motioned to the door and Jack settles a look on his son that is void of any emotion. At least on the surface.
“You’re on your own from here on out, son, I can’t protect you from the real world anymore.”
The needle tears a hole
The old familiar sting
Try to kill it all away
But I remember everything
In The Past…
Before
“Victoria!” Godfrey burst through the door of the tiny apartment, dressed in a suit that was wrinkled from a day of interviews. Nothing fancy and quite cheap really. It was what he could afford after moving to the states. Shrugging off his messenger bag, he dropped it next to the door and glanced towards the little galley kitchen. Not there. Pushing up his black rimmed glasses, he glances Arline the rest of the small area. “Vicky?” His enthusiasm waned a little.
“Godfrey?” He turned quickly at his name and found Victoria coming from the bedroom, looking surprised to see him so early. A phone held against her chest, a robe held loosely by a silken belt. He had clearly interrupted a call. When she noticed him noticing, she set the phone face down on the counter. “Hey, baby. What’s up?”
While the voice of doubt nagged at the back of his mind, Godfrey is too excited to give it a proper thought . “I got the job!” He bursted out, unable to hold it in any longer.
It took a moment for those words to sink in. But when it did, excitement lit up his girlfriend’s face.“You got the job?” She does a little dance and squealed happily. Not unlike a banshee really, he’d think years later. He always felt like his eardrums were going to burst, but he didn’t care back then.
No matter, Godfrey smiled brightly and opened his arms, which were immediately full of the busty blonde. “The one we were hoping for, luv. Pinehurst.” Holding her there he couldn’t help but think how lucky he was.
Pulling back enough to look at him, Victoria’s brown eyes were huge and voice breathless with excitement. “You mean we can finally get out of this shitty little apartment? Get us something a little more upscale?” She gives her shoulders a little wiggle and her chin lifts a little all haughty.
That was an odd thing… Godfrey blinked, “W-Wha…?” He felt a little sting to his pride, because she had always acted like she loved it and helped him pick it out. The modest apartment, only a one bedroom, cost him a pretty penny. The day he had gotten the keys had been a big moment for him. A place in the fringes of New York. Never did he dream it. Even though there was peeling paint and the kitchen faucet dripped, it was his. Well, theirs.
He felt his shoulders slump, even as Vicky pulled back further so that she could run hands over her shapely curves. “I’ll have to get a new wardrobe?” Godfrey never remembered her like that before, especially not in their correspondences. Right then, he could almost feel his pocketbook burning and he hadn’t his first paycheck.
Godfrey could only watch her with a furrowed brow, but it quickly turned back to a smile when she turned a hopeful look his way. She was so beautiful. “Of course, luv, whatever you want.” Somehow this made her even more excited and he was rewarded with a kiss.
“Oh.. oh….I’ve got to call my mother,” Victoria said, when the kiss was finally broken. ”Oh baby, I knew you were destined for great things. We’re moving on up!” Doing a little twirl out of his arms she picked up her cellphone. Manicured nails poised above the screen, but she doesn’t start tapping yet. Popping up a brow, she quickly turns back to him.
“So… how much money are we talking about really?”
What have I become
My sweetest friend?
Everyone I know
Goes away in the end
In the Past…
A Week Later
His name was Chuck Barre.
Godfrey would never forget that name, because it was pronounced Barry… not Bar or Bare as one would think. And that was the name of one of his favorite musicians, though the man he was following looked nothing like him. First off, he was as white as they came. Had the man ever seen a lick of sun in his life?
“First and foremost, welcome to Pineherst. You should feel honored to even be allowed to step foot within these walls,” his new accounting supervisor said rather aloof, looking back at… or rather up at Godfrey. Bored eyes stared blandly past wire rimmed bifocals that were perched on a hawkish nose. Chuck was a short man, very short, especially next to Godfrey’s own 6 foot and change frame. Equally short and rather chubby fingers waved at Godfrey to keep up. With the way he puffed out his chest, his thin legs moved, and his thin fringe of dark hair stuck up over a crisp collar in the back… well, honestly, it reminded Godfrey of a rather goofy secretary bird.
Chuck prattled on about this and that, but Godfrey paid attention to almost none of it, completely distracted by the man’s appearance. Reality snapped back into place when the little man suddenly came to an abrupt stop, causing Godfrey to bump into him. Sputtering, Chuck spun around quickly, “Mis-ter Wells.” Oops. “Have you heard a thing I have just said.” Godfrey took a step back to regain a respectable distance, before he could be asked.
Oh dear. The man even tilted his head like a bird. Which looked even more comical when the man’s hands had moved to rest on his hips, looking like stocky folded wings.
Godfrey had to swallow down a laugh, but the look on his face was enough of a clue that he wasn’t really listening, Chuck’s perpetual look of boredom vanished and deepens into disapproval. Rather than make a scene, he simply flicked his wrist at the empty cubicle next to them. “Your desk, Mr. Wells and…” A packet of paperwork was thrust into Godfrey’s arms. “This is your welcome packet, please be sure to read the manual and fill out all the paperwork… and I mean all of it. Mr. Petrelli doesn’t condone unfinished work and neither do I.” Flicking a bit of dust off his lapel, Chuck asked, “Any questions?”
“Actually, I have one.” Godfrey glances around at the large cavernous room filled with a network of squares. All of them filled with bodies. “What’s he like?”
“Who?”
“The boss, Mr. Petrelli.”
”Oh.” Chuck didn’t answer right away, lips thinned into a line and his attention fell to a spot of carpet. The hesitation pulls Godfrey’sfull attention to the little man. When his boss finally looked back up, he simply said, “Pray that you never meet him, Mr. Wells. You really don’t want to draw his attention.”
And you could have it all
My empire of dirt
I will let you down
I will make you hurt
In The Past…
A Year or Two Later
How had he ended up in this predicament?
Godfrey looked down at his hands, as he lifted them from the keyboard, unsurprised to see them trembling. He’d just returned from a rather enlightening meeting with his boss. What he has just seen… A soft huff of disbelief escapes, startling Godfrey. Fear spiked through him, making him jerk up. Alert and darting darting a look around the area like a scared little field mouse, he hunkers down in his cubicle and lets out a shaky breath.
That man wasn’t normal. Mr. Petrelli wasn’t normal. Telekinesis. Bloody fucking telekinesis. The stuff of science fiction. Things he’d only read about and seen on the telly. Never in his life had he imagined…
Oh God.
Reaching up, Godfrey gingerly touched his throat, as if he still felt an invisible hand around it, followed by the lingering memory of being thrown backwards. No doubt his back would be covered in bruises. He had never felt terror like that before.
Mind numbing terror.
So when he was generously offered a deal that would let him live… he had taken it without hesitation. If he hadn’t, he’d be under the dirt now… or in some black hole. Mr. Petrelli had made sure he understood that by leaving Chuck in a boneless pile on the floor.
All of it had been over a discrepancy.
Just a little thing he’d noticed in the books, money seemingly disappearing from the ledgers. Curious, he had followed the trail to depths he hadn’t ever imagined, even when Chuck warned him to leave it.
Godfrey slowly folded his hands together and pressed them to the cold surface of his desk in an attempt to try and stop the shaking. It was his fault Chuck was dead.
Oh God. He should have listened, but now… now he was in too deep.
He was trapped in the spider’s web.
I wear this crown of thorns
Upon my liar's chair
Full of broken thoughts
I cannot repair
In The Past…
And A Few More Years
Sitting on the couch, Godfrey had rested his elbows on his knees with shoulders hunched like a beaten dog. Coal colored eyes were glued to the telly in front of him. He was disheveled. Hair and clothing were a mess from sitting up all night watching the coverage.
He had been warned the reckoning was coming, but the source had been anonymous so he had almost gone to work. Godfrey wished he knew who to thank.
He wanted to ask how had they known and why had they cared if he got out?
On the screen, viewers were being shown a bird’s eye view of a pile rubble that had once been Pinehurst. It had collapsed on itself during whatever conflict had happened. He could have been in there, buried.. dead. It was a surreal though as he watched the house of cards he had built - literally - tumble and…
He’d never felt happier.
As one of Arthur Petrelli’s minions, pressed into service, Godfrey had learned a lot of dirty little secrets. The man deserved whatever had come for him.
Behind Godfrey, his girlfriend’s shrill voice grated against his ears. “Do you know what you are? You’re a criminal, Goddy! A criminal!” He really disliked that nickname, but he didn't have the energy to correct her tonight. Drawers and cabinets slammed open and closed behind him, but he didn’t take his eyes off the screen in front of him.
“I’ve got to get out of here.” Victoria shrieked from the other room. “I can't be associated with this. With you. Especially when they come to haul you away to jail. What would the ladies think!? Or my momma!” Because in the end that is all that mattered… her.
Godfrey’s eyes rolled in spite of himself.
Honestly, Godfrey hadn’t really cared anymore. In that last year or so, Vicky had shown her true colors and her display tonight had frayed his last nerve. So when she announced she was out of there, he didn’t respond or begged her to stay.
He simply had run out of fucks to give.
In fact, he didn’t even flinch when she slammed the door behind her, leaving him with only the sound of the urgent, concerned voices of the reporters.
A part of Godfrey felt like he should be terrified, but he didn’t. Note really. Infact, as the names of captured co-workers scrolled at the bottom of the screen, a small, manic smile touched his lips. It would still linger there when the authorities came banging on his door.
Until then that moment, his focus would be on the screen while a small black thumb drive flipped over and over between his fingers.
Godfrey had a contingency plan.
He’d be a hero.
Beneath the stains of time
The feelings disappear
You are someone else
I am still right here
In The Past…
Yet Another Year Or So.
Godfrey felt defeated.
“But…y-you’re my bloody last hope here, mate. I’m down to my last quid.” He hated how desperate he sounded now. “You and I both know I’m more than qualifi…”
“The decision is final.”
The sharply spoken words cut through Godfrey’s protest and rendered him mute. The woman before him, her rich red hair was pulled up into a bun and suit crispy pressed, gave him a pleading look and spread her hands in a gesture of helplessness. “You’ve got to understand, Mr. Wells. You’re considered a security risk for any business firm now. No matter how much of a ‘hero’ you were for helping bring down Pinehurst and exposing its corruption. You leaked sensitive information, which leaves a big stain on your desirability.”
”But I’d never…” Godfrey starts, his shoulders falling with his confidence. She was right.
The woman’s features softened, turning to pity. He’d learned to loathe that expression when aimed at him, specifically. “How can this company be certain that you would never do that again if the mood suited you? I’m sorry, Mr. Wells.”
He had wanted to wipe the look of pity off her face, but he only stood up, straighten his coat, and made the trek back to the shitty hotel room he’d been reduced to.
The phone in his pocket buzzed and chirped a joyful tune in opposition to how he felt. He ignored it, pulling off his glasses and tossing them on the table so that he could press his face into his hands with a groan.
What was he bloody going to do?
Another chirping buzz, forced him out of his pity party to look at who was disturbing his self-loathing.
Oh great. His father.
Clearly, news of Pinehurst’s fall had reached over there. So now he was trying to gloat. The thought made him scowl. Godfrey had lost everything and the last thing he wanted was to talk to that man.
It was hard enough to admit his father had been right, he didn't need to hear him mocking him for his choices.
“What did I tell you, boy?”
In a sharp flash of anger and despair, Godfrey snarled and threw the phone at the wall across the cramped room. It felt dramatic, but the results were less so. The phone hit the wall and landed face down on the floor in a rather unsatisfactory way. To add insult to injury, it buzzed and chirps with yet another text.
Lips pressed tight, Godfrey couldn’t help but again wonder what to do now. He couldn't exactly go back to his father.
Godfrey would rather sleep on the streets.
What have I become
My sweetest friend?
Everyone I know
Goes away in the end
In the Past…
A Month Later.
Never in his life had Godfrey imagined he’d be sitting on a park bench, contemplating how cold he’d be if he slept there that night rather than go back to the shelter from the night before. The idea of sleeping around so many unwashed bodies again made his spine shiver. There were showers, but few stuck around long enough to use them.
A knapsack, which held all his worldly possessions, was clenched tightly against his chest lest someone decide to attempt to steal it. It held all his worldly possessions and that made them precious, no matter how megercand mundane they were. A week ago, the money had finally run out and he hadn't two pennies to rub together.
He was bloody homeless.
Him.
“Wells? That you?”
Hearing his voice had Godfrey coming out of the trench of his depression, brows furrowing because it wasn’t a voice he knew. One would think he’d remember someone like this from his old job. “Will you just look at you, Godfrey Wells. Haven't seen you since before Primatech got fucked.” A hand landed heavily on his shoulder, before a body collided with the bench next to him.
Nope. Even seeing the man’s face, Godfrey couldn’t seem to put a name to a face. The confusion on his face must have been on full display, because the guy's enthusiasm waned and he looked almost hurt. “We used to talk by the coffee maker, while getting coffee. Went out for beers once or twice with the guys? No?”
Still Godfrey was clueless and the man’s shoulders slumped. The man tried one more time, “Dillion? Dillon Paulie?”
Then it clicked. “The security man with two first names,” Godfrey remembered, with a bit of a unenthusiastic smile. It had also been the guard that helped him dispose of Chuck’s body and awkwardly patted Godfrey’s back when he puked. Honestly, he had successfully blocked that memory til then. “Well, the greased back hair does take all of one’s attention.” It was like the man bathes his head in it. “How…?” Godfrey asked as he looked over the man’s appearance and realized he didn’t have the same demeanor as the Englishman. In fact, he seemed to be doing quite well for himself.
“I know a guy.” It was all Dillion would offer him in response at first. Leaning back on the bench, the former Pinehurst guard hooked elbows over the back of the bench. It allowed Godfrey to get a glimpse of the guns tucked under his jacket.
Oh…Ooooooh.
“I feel bad to see you out here like this, Wells,” Dillion scratched at the stubble on his jaw as he watched the people walking by. His words were casual, but hinted heavily that he was doing Godfrey a huge favor. “If you want, I can introduce ya.”
At first Godfrey scoffed at the idea and clutched the backpack tighter. He contemplated leaving, whatever Dillion was into, he wanted nothing to do with it. He wasn’t a criminal.
Godfrey Wells was a hero!
But he didn’t move, like he was rooted to his spot. He was out of options and anyone he had interviewed with had treated him like a criminal.
“So?” Dillion drawled out, finally giving the downtrodden man his full attention. “Do I walk or do you want to get off the street?”
And you could have it all
My empire of dirt
I will let you down
I will make you hurt
In The Past…
A Few Days Later.
“Hey! Wells! Buddy! You made it!”
Godfrey wished he felt the enthusiasm that Dillion was displaying. The rough slaps to his shoulder were tolerated. He really needed this job.
He had half expected to be meeting in the backroom of some shady bar. Instead, he had stepped out of the elevators into a real working office. It gave him some desperately needed hope.
Once Dillion was done with his assault on his person, Godfrey brushed at his suit and straighten his cuffs. He loathed to be presented in a lightly creased suit, but he made up for it in general grooming. He hoped it was enough.
“Trust me. Your life is about to change,” Dillion said as he led Godfrey through the office toward a pair of dark stained doors. The nervous accountant clung to the man’s positive outlook. “Hey, Tina he’s expecting us.”
The woman at the desk, doesn't even acknowledge their existence, nor does she attempt to stop them. Holding out a hand to stall Godfrey, Dillion says in a sudden serious tone, “Hold here a sec. I’ll make sure he’s ready for ya.”
Nervously, Godfrey nodded and pressed fingers to his glasses, pushing them up higher on his nose.
Giving him an encouraging smile, Dillion opened the door enough to lean in. “Hey Boss, you gotta moment? I brought you that numbers guy I told you about.” Whatever is said in response Godfrey doesn't catch it.
He must have been given the okay, because Dillion pushed the door open further, giving him the first look at the man who’d held his future in his hands. “Godfrey Wells, I’d like to introduce you to my boss.” A tall well-kempt blonde man was just stepping around a large wooden desk.
“Adam Monroe.” The blonde man supplied Godfrey with a rather confident smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet the ‘hero’ of Pinehurst’s downfall. Come in.” He motioned for him to enter the office.
“We have a lot to talk about.”
If I could start again
A million miles away
I will keep myself
I would find a way
The Present
As the last mournful note died away, Godfrey stared at his fingers as they rested on the keys. Brows slowly lower as he lets the last of those memories go. Unwilling to dive further, into the man he no longer was.
He had never been a hero, except in his own mind. Godfrey had been so naive in those early days and he’d told so many lies to hide that part of him.
A bespeckle and awkward coward who had been conned by a pair of big beautiful breast, broken easily by a mad man and believed the honey’d words of an immortal.
He’d been a fool.
He’d been lied, too. Especially, by himself.
Godfrey shook his head and delicately snatched up the glass. Sipping from the glass, he used his other hand to gently shut away the piano keys. The smooth, lacquered wood reflected his face back at him, if a bit warped.
After discovering his memories had been manipulated, it felt like the face of a stranger. How much had he been manipulated?
Who was Godfrey Wells?