Participants:
| Scene Title | Those Who Judge |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Amato comes to one of the only people he knows, who he considers worthy of consulting on moral and ethical crisis's. |
| Date | August 4, 2010 |
Le Rivage - Abby's apartment.
The place that was one a temporary home at the insistence of a kidnapped sicilian, has turned into a home despite the offer of habitation by Francois at his brownstone. The threat of burning still very good - a few close alarms now and then when not working and therefore not taking the negation drugs - She's gathering control. Slowly.
But a voice from the park and the past, a particular tie to this blonde individual, there is an offer to come over anytime after six. Dinner would be served, and conversation had if there was something particular that he wanted. Francois wasn't done his shift yet and as usual, Peter wouldn't be in till at least 4 hours before shift starts.
Chubby child on arm, more active than when she first came into the lives of the two women who care for her and soon to exit it into the light house, she's babbling, making noises and otherwise trying to chew on Abigail's hair when she lets in the former, if not current Monk into her humble home.
"Good thing you called or I woulda been down at the bar, watching over some things, but I got Brenda to cover, since she's pretty much going to run it. How are you Amato" No kiss for his cheek, no offer of hands to shake. Both of them, it seems, shares that peculiarity despite that it's no longer a problem for her. Layered tank tops, the soft elastic strap of the monitor rearing from under the shirts and yoga pants, do little to hide the tops of the angel wings nor the stylized cross that adorn her back. Even a bit of latin. "can I get you anything to drink Amato?"
"No, thank you, Abigail," Amato says, his eyes either downcast or at the child, but not on Abby herself. Not yet. Since this afternoon, he's unrolled his cuffs and added a sport coat to his ensemble, and for once, doesn't smell primarily of wool and hay. The heat, though, has taken it's toll on his appearance. There is more than one reason for his wilted look.
Stepping through the apartment, Amato continues to babble somewhat. "Once again, you out-do yourself with hospitality. I'm sorry I couldn't be more specific on the phone… I'm not sure how long this will take, but it doesn't seem the thing to discuss over food. Abigail-" He pauses then, and looks at her, his pale blue eyes as intense as they've ever been.
"Have you ever not wanted to use your ability?"
"I assume.. you mean the healing yes? Staten Island. When John Logan took me and he tossed… I think her name was Bebe. It's wrong of me, to have not wanted to, Lord, all the fighters too." Attempts to serve refreshments aborted, she turns instead in the livingroom that the front door opens into, one hand on the girls back and patting gently.
"It's wrong, and bad of me to say so, but I didn't want to because it was slowly killing me and … It was someone using me, it wasn't voluntary. Why do you ask Amato?" Confusion and puzzlement. "wait, you have an ability?"
He blinks, narrowing his eyes. "Of c-," but he cuts himself short and tilts his head slightly before gesturing for Abby to sit down, letting the moment diffuse itself. "I suppose I should count myself lucky. I haven't been feeling as such lately, I must admit."
Amato only sits after Abby is comfortable, and then he rests his elbows on his knees, his long-fingered hands clasped together only to be wrung. "You know…what I used to do. The motives behind my ability. But I've been thinking that it isn't fair. It's not right for me, a man with no right to judge his fellow men as God will, to know the darkness that exists in a heart." The unspoken 'but' at the end of Amato's sentence is just that - unspoken. And it hangs like a cloud heavy with rain.
"Amato, I don't even know what you can do" Seriously but with a small amount of good will and humor inserted in it. "I know yes what you did, the people you ran with. A good portion of them, I am friends with now. Elias, he carts me down my Momma and my Dah's when I have a hankering for home, or If I need to get somewhere fast"
Kasha is a detour, to drag over the cradle swing, with it's flowers and bee's floating above, securing the infant in there and turning it on. "You don't have to use it, if you don't want to. In the end, really, you have a choice. To use it, or to not" Down into an armchair she flops, tucking her feet under her. "What's the problem Amato?"
But he doesn't say. Instead, Amato looks at the span of floor between his feet and purses his lips. "They brought me a strand of your hair once. A single strand. All I had to do was touch it." He laughs. It's breathy, as if he can't believe he's actually relaying this story. Sometimes it seems that things that happened so long ago are part of the collective conscious of New York City's Evolved population.
"You've led a very pure, noble, and…and good life, Abigail. And I saw every little imperfection. Imagine what it was like for me when I touched Sylar." The name falls out of Amato's mouth with a sneer, and he swallows afterward, as if to rid himself of the taste. "And I saw it through his eyes - what he saw when he…I saw the people he killed as they looked down at him - terrified."
"Psychometry" Of a sort. There'sa flood of red to her cheeks and shake of her head when he relays that she's led a very pure and noble life. "You touched it, before I banished Kazimir, before… well, before a lot of things Amato. Before Staten Island and well.." Well. That's a whole other life ago.
"And you, and he, are working to turn the tides of what you've done so that when you stand before the lord come calvary, you can honestly say that you tried to right your wrongs"
He nods at that and straightens, taking a deep breath. "I've tried, Abby. God knows I've tried. And I'll continue to do so - mark my words. But… I saw a man today. I could swear to you I have seen him before, but I could not tell you where. I know he is a horrible man, but I have no basis for this judgment other than this odd…deja vu."
He reaches into the pocket of his sport coat and withdraws a folded tissue. He holds it in his palm and unfolds it carefully, revealing an unfiltered cigarette. It's been lit, and there is the vaguest of impressions at one end, where it may have been pinched between lips. "I could find out…but I'm not sure that I want to. Or that I should. It may be a gift from God, but why, when the word says that only God shall sit in judgment of men, would it be given me?"
"God is but one judge of man. There are the courts, our peers, our children, our parents, our teachers, the list goes on." There's a curious glance to the cigarette, folded in the tissue. Her head tilts to the side, considering the object before her. "Tell me this, if you did touch it, if you gleaned something from it, about him, what would you do with the results?"
"I don't know," Amato answers with a shake of his head. "It would depend on what I saw. I wouldn't give him up to the authorities - they'd surely place me in a cell right alongside him." Unlike Eileen, Amato has not cleared himself with those God has put in judgment over earth-bound man. "If you could do what I can, would you look into a man's soul without him knowing? Without him wanting you to?"
"Would it save the world? Would it save another person by doing so Amato? It's a question of ethics more than morals" He's coming to her as a moral compass? 'Cat says that some day, in the future, there will be laws against telepaths, going into people's heads uninvited, charges of rape attached to it. But what about Psychometry? Where sometimes, you don't have the ability to not use the ability, it just go off."
One elbow rests on the arm of the chair, her chin in the palm of her upturned hand, the other palm curled in her lap. "You realize yes, that there are such things as anonymous tips…" He needn't give his name to the authorities. "If you'd had my ability of old amato, if you could heal with a prayer and a touch… would you have healed like I did? Would you have healed people, without asking them if they needed it?"
"It's an entirely different gift." The words are a scoff, and Amato flips his wrist to fold the tissue back over the cigarette before he lets it drop to his lap. "Healing is a compassion. Christ himself healed, and from all we know we can only assume he did so with blind compassion, without taking into account the wishes of those he laid hands upon. This is different. This is prying between the very nature of what exists between us and the Almighty." He sighs, leaning back against the cushion and rubbing his face with a hand. "But knowing anything - being able to dismiss or accept this feeling would bring me peace, even if it didn't last."
"It is, but Amato.." She leans forward, fingertips coming to a light rest on his knee. "The lord gave it to you with a purpose. What the purpose is, who is to know except you and the lord and what you feel is right. I did with the healing, what I felt was right, healing everyone who crossed my path and was injured, even Sylar in midtown at midnight" Sounds like a game of clue.
"what do you think the lord gave you this gift for? What do you feel, in your heart of hearts Amato, should you do. Touch it… or not"
He doesn't move, but Abby's touch does steady his breathing some. "I don't know," he finally says, lowering his hand and looking at her, his brow knitted with the weight of it all. "It may quiet what plagues me. But it may also awaken it." He chuckles again. "Raith would tell me to risk it, because it's what I was meant to do. But what… What if mine is different than yours was. What if I was never meant to use it. What if it's all an elaborate test of will?"
'We're all meant to use it Amato. Or we would not have it. It's there for us to safeguard and hold for when it should be used. You have a smart mind, use it. Use your instinct and follow your heart. If it awakens something, something in you that you don't like, then you learn to reign it in and control it not let it control you."
Her fingers stay where they are, perhaps a bit more pressure and a gentle squeeze, friendly smile proffered. "If you do it here, if it unnerves you too much, if you need to get what you saw out of your head, you can just go over and touch Kasha. A short life, she's surely far more innocent that I was"
Amato laughs at the idea of clearing his head with the baby. "Perhaps. But young ones are selfish creatures, even if they aren't accountable for it. You'd be surprised. No one is perfect, Abigail. But I do thank you for being so refreshingly close." He takes another deep breath before he carefully replaces the wrapped cigarette in his pocket.
"As they say, He broke the mold when he made you." Amato makes as if to cover her hand with his, but he pauses. He takes another deep breath and closes his eyes, trying to find that small, calm center. After a moment, he lowers his hand, giving Abby's the smallest of squeezes before he slides away.
Nothing for him, the moment of calm giving him what he needs to touch Abby without setting off who knows what. Momentary as the touch is, pulling her hand back after the moment has passed has passed. "Yup, my momma and my dah, the lord gave them only me. Come on, I made dinner anyways, and i'm hungry and I need to get ready for some Ferry business later. need to bulk up on carbs. I hope you like spaghetti Amato, because you are helping me make the sauce"
Cheeky grin, a brush of her hand on the quiet baby's cheek, she's unpeeling forth from the couch so she can head off into the kitchen. "Or you can make the garlic bread"