To Abide In


amato_icon.gif eileen_icon.gif

Scene Title To Abide In
Synopsis Amato visits Eileen. Words are exchanged.
Date January 13, 2009

Lucrezia's Suite

There are very few things that inspire true fear in Eileen — the tiny insects buzzing around Lucrezia's hotel room like miniature fighter planes painted gold and black are one of them. Stay away from the door and the windows, she had warned her, though not in precisely those words, and you'll come to no harm. With this threat in mind, Eileen sits with her back to the bed in the center of the suite, legs hugged closely to her chest, chin resting upon her knees. One side of her face is plastered in bandages to conceal the desiccated flesh of her cheek beneath it, but otherwise she appears as happy and as healthy as one of Kazimir Volken's captives can be — that is to say, not very.

She's wearing the same clothes she had when she bade Sylar farewell in Midtown, though she's been granted the privelege of the suite's shower several times between then and now to keep her body smelling fresher than the grease and sweat that clung to her hair or the dirt and grime she once had wedged beneath her finger nails. Her skin, on the other hand, is such a sickly shade that the circles beneath her gray-green eyes are more pronounced than usual and give her an almost skeletal appearance in the suite's dappled half-light. The only indications she's even alive are the steady rise and fall of her chest as she breathes and the occasional flinch whenever one of the bees flies a little too close for comfort. As far as meditative trances go, this one isn't very deep, but the stillness helps her concentrate, helps her think.


The sound of a key in the door should not come as too much of a surprise to Eileen - Lucrezia is seldom gone for extremely long stretches of time, and even with her tiny sentries, she would never keep herself away forever. What may be surprising is that when the door opens, it is not the buxom Italian seductress - the mother of the Vanguard - that stands in the opening. Instead, it is a much less appealing familial member. Amato is dressed as he usually is, the one exception being that the collar of his wool coat is turned upward to keep the wind from snaking down his back, even with the crimson colored scarf he wears about his neck. The bees move for him, though one perches momentarily on his shoulder before he shuts the door. When he turns is when his eyes finally fall on the small, ashen form of what…is? Once was?

"Mio Dio…"

In a record number of strides, Amato would have approached the young woman, but he stops himself half-way to her and sinks to the floor himself. "Piccola agnella," he whispers, his eyes wide as he looks Eileen up and down. "Thank God you are safe."

Safe? Eileen's eyes flick to Amato as he takes to his knees on the floor. No longer alone in the suite, she undergoes a swift change in demeanor, upper lip curling back to reveal a wicked flash of teeth, her mouth pulling into a sneer. "E-nough," she hisses under her breath, though she does not yet attempt to rise to her feet. Although Lucrezia never mentioned it, she suspects the busily buzzing sentries might not be too happy if she were to approach Amato. Given her current circumstance and the murderous expression she's wearing on her face, she isn't as happy to see him as he is to see her. "God has nothing to do with it."

All of Eileen's previous attempts to rattle Amato's firm standing when it comes to religion have been passive and subtle, and so perhaps that is why such a direct affront shakes him so. Or it might be the bandage on her face, or the snarl she twists her lips into. Amato looks as nervous as a rabbit in an open field, and recoils at her expression and words.

"Then what," he retorts, recovering slowly though still quite rattled, "would possess Kazimir to decide not to kill you? Why has he let you live? Why are you here?" A place that, currently, is arguably more the heart of the Vanguard than Eagle Electric, or even the warehouse in Jersey City.

"It amuses him," Eileen clarifies. "I amuse him." There can be no other reason; she has long outlived her usefulness, and now that there is no Sylar left to stand in Kazimir's way, there is very little to prevent him from taking whatever he wants. She is one woman, one small and insignificant cog in a master plan that has already been put into motion — if she were to break now, to splinter away more than she already has, it would change nothing.

"He's going to kill you, Amato. You and everyone and everything you've ever cared about." Eileen's hands form fists, fingers clutching at the faded material of her denim jeans. "If that's what God has planned for you, then you must have done something really wrong to piss him off."

"I…I am not going to die." Amato's words are shaking at first, but he reaffirms them with repeition. "I am not going to die, and neither are you." And in another moment, the man is on his feet and pacing, though his eyes keep coming back to the hostile and tense little female form on the floor. "Any new world needs nurturing. A garden needs those who would till the soil and encourage new life to sprout, to keep it free of weeds and disease - just so, any new world we recreate must be looked after if our work - The Work - is not to be in vain."

Amato's voice becomes a plea, though when he has practiced the oration of his newly embraced views in his head, he hardly needed to be as persuasive. "But apart from all that," he adds with a sigh, coming to a stop with his back to Eileen, staring out one of the windows to the expansive city below. "There are certain things that, if…absent from the world, would render it no longer enjoyable to…abide in."

Eileen doesn't know the full breadth of Lucrezia's powers. She can control insects the same way she controls birds, but whether or not Lucrezia can see through their eyes or hear through their ears as she does is still something of a mystery — a risk she isn't willing to take. "There are others who feel the same way," she tells Amato, mindful to keep her sentences as vague as possible, "people you might turn to." Ethan, Elias, Wu-Long. "When pride cometh, then cometh shame: but with the lowly is wisdom." Her eyes search his, looking for some spark of recognition in them. She's only read certain passages from the Bible, mostly at Amato's insistence, and she hopes this proverb is one he'll immediately recognize. What will be trickier is getting him to understand the significance of it — there is no shame in asking for help. "Do you hear what I'm saying?"

What Eileen doesn't know is that one among those very people have already extended a hand to Amato. "I do, agnella. I do. such was shown to me in a rather…spontaneous cloistering. But all enlightenment comes in some strange form." He turns enough to look over his shoulder at her. "Please, Eileen. Of all the faith you possess…I pray you never lose your faith in me."

What little faith Eileen has left isn't about to be placed in anyone except for herself. She sent Sylar to his end — she won't also be held responsible for sending Amato to his. "Don't tell Ethan I'm here," she says lowly. It's the closest thing to assent the Italian is going to get — a small extension of her trust. "Tell him you bought me a train ticket and some papers to go with it. Tell him I'm halfway to Ontario by now. Tell him whatever you want. Just don't tell him where I am, or who I'm with. This can't be about me anymore. You both need to start thinking about bigger things."

"If I see him," Amato agrees with a nod, "I will do so. My work is elsewhere now, so I cannot promise it will happen." He turns to face her, smiling a much more relieved and grateful smile. "…you should eat something. Or rest. It may no longer be about you, but that shouldn't mean you ought to abandon all self preservation."

"I haven't," Eileen assures Amato, and she's telling the truth. In spite of her pallor and spindly condition, her eyes are bright and hungry for something that is probably vengeance. "Ti voglio bene, Amato. Arrivederci."

With that assurance, Amato starts toward the small kitchenette, but he is stopped in his tracks before he's made it even halfway across the room. Slowly, Amato turns his head to look at the young woman sitting in the middle of the floor, his own eyes wide and bright. Did she…but… "No," he says with a fervor that dances behind his teeth. "Avremo molti altri saluti che addii."

Eileen says nothing more. She simply watches Amato from where she sits, her face tight with emotion, posture rigid, breathing steady. One day she'll ask him what that means, but not today.

Today, she rips herself apart at the seams and tears out all her guilt like so much stuffing before she begins the arduous task of piecing herself back together again. The next time she sees Kazimir, she can't afford to feel sorry for what she's done or what she didn't do, to be crippled by remorse and regret — he's going to die, no matter whose body he resides in.

January 13th: ...Worse
January 13th: Betrayal in Three Acts
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