Visions And Revisions


eve_icon.gif teo_icon.gif

Scene Title Visions And Revisions
Synopsis Old friends catch up on the subjects of kidnapped healers, imprisoned terrorists, their foregone romantic prospects, you know. The usual.
Date March 22, 2009

ChinatownConfucius Plaza

The Plaza is forty-four stories tall with over seven hundred units. Though it's some of the nicest housing in Chinatown, it's by no means lavish. The statue of Confucius in the courtyard has become one of the neighborhood's most popular meeting places over the last three decades. The lobby is relatively small and sparsely furnished, but also spotlessly clean. The same can be said about the apartments.

It's not exactly evening, but it isn't afternoon anymore either. There are a few people on the streets of Chinatown and among them is Eve, who is walking up to her apartment complex. Wearing a pair of dark blue jeans and a black tank top. A normal detour from her usual high split dress and boots.

Her long raven dark hair falls over her shoulders and her light grey eyes are focused ahead of her. Eve is on a mission, she has been now for a while. She won't be home for a while. Might as well pick up a few things from her apartment.

His 'mummy arm' is throbbing. Didn't feel like sleep, so he didn't go to home— hotel— whatever qualifies the term these days. Teo is dressed as usual. Which is to say, nondescriptly, blending in reasonably well with the general demographic of lower middle-class or starved college student. Some subcategory of disenfranchised Manhattan resident. Whatever. There's a bloodstain on the bottom of his left pant cuff, a hood pulled up over his head.

His own features shadowed by the rim of cotton garment, he sees her without recognizing her ivory, heart-shaped face at first. A blank stare, a beat's pause; the rhythm of his easy, ground-eating lope grates with a pause. It's been awhile.

Her head jerks up as she drops her keys to the door to the building. Stopping down to pick them up, after she stands again she is facing in Teo's direction. His face can't be seen and so she just figures he is some guy with a blood stain on his pant leg.

Eyebrows raised, she looks as if she wants to say something. But for once she bites her tongue. Instead she hums to herself as she unlocks the door.


Teo, on the other hand, is bad at biting his tongue even when he tries — and he so rarely remembers to do so. There's no harm in old friends talking, is there? 'Old' being a relative term: few of the companions the Italian keeps now date further back than a year, with the occasional exception of Father Benito in that little church off Birmingham Ave. The one with Saint Rita mosaiced into the weedy courtyard out back. "Buona notte. Not to interrupt; you look busy. Hope you're well?"


She would recognize that voice anywhere. Eve looks up at the man and stops from opening the door. Her gaze locks onto his. "I am.. trying." She says softly and tilts her head at Teo. "You talk to me like we're strangers. I guess not seeing each other for three months counts as making us that to one another." She muses and smiles softly at the man, "Been well, also?" she doesn't let on that she has thought of him every so often.

Politeness sometimes makes Teo come off that way. It's a flaw. He has a few of those. Rue might be another one of them. He ducks his head, acknowledging the truth of both statements. Like strangers, and three months is a long time.

His fault; he readily accepts fault for that. "Mi dispiace. Things have been busy. I've been negligent about a lot of things. Thank Providence you're here." He cants a glance over his shoulder at the stretch of empty street behind, then the facade of her building right here. "Are you still singing? How's Darius?"

"Yes I sing, not at the Lounge for a bit.. I'm.. taking a vacation." She doesn't dare tell Teo where, because he would try to stop her and she wouldn't listen. They would possibly fight, so why even go through that when they have just reunited. "As for Darius, I haven't seen him." she shrugs.

"How is everything? Any new love interests?" she asks out of politeness, not that she really wants to know. Eve looks up to the sky. "I've missed a lot.. haven't I?" this is just plain intuition, no ability at work.

There's a hesitant jerk of Teo's head, a lie on the verge of actualization; he doesn't say it aloud in the end, doesn't say No. Instead, he tips his own bristly head backward, pointing his gaze into the limitless depths of the sky that she's looking at. "'M sorry about Darius," he says. "And I hope you enjoy your vacation. Yeah, I'm seeing someone.

"'Bout a month now." No details. Digging for details had mostly hurt him, when he'd asked her about her cop boy; it's why he'd done it. He can't imagine she's characterized by the exact same brand of masochism. "Doing shit necessarily excludes doing other shit, unless you're God." A beat's pause there, for wry humor; then silence. "'M sure I missed as much as you did."

"Don't be sorry, people come and then.. they just go." Eve means that for both Darius and Teo. "I'll miss him, I guess." She shrugs lightly. "I doubt I'll enjoy the vacation." A hand is woven into her thick hair. When she hears that Teo is seeing someone, Eve stiffens slightly but doesn't go into more questions. "I hope everything with her is well."

A hand goes to her hip and her eyes leave the sky and go back to Teo. A soft smile on her face. "Yes, there has been shit going on." Her eyes squint as she smiles. "I must admit, I have missed you amico." Eve was or /is/ close to Teo.

Is, was; Teo is pretty bad at measuring intimacy, temporally or magnitude of, or— whatever. He'd pick 'is.' There's an inward twitch at her use of pronoun, but he doesn't correct her. Probably should. "Sometimes they come back," he offers somewhat blankly, stepping forward. Reaching up, he thumbs the cloth off the roof of his head. "'Nd you too, donna.

"I think of you whenever I pass by the Orchid Lounge. Was there the other month with my aunt, but you weren't working that night." There's a quaver-beat's pause, and his eyes scale the multitude facets of windows in the complex. "Didn't know you live here."

Stepping forward as well, Eve looks up at Teo. "How long does someone wait for them to come back?" Her breath slows and she places a hand in her pocket. "Whenever I sang at the Lounge.. I thought of you. You were the person that came to see me sing the most."

"I do still live in the apartment here, was coming to get some stuff." Eve opens the door, "I'm a little cold, mind stepping inside then?"

"I'm sorry I didn't come more often. I'm bad at stuff like that." That's not an excuse, barely an explanation. Teo doesn't elaborate further, only turns down the corners of his mouth, gets that grim look about him that young men do when they're being earnest. In general, there are a lot of things he can't talk about anyway. Terrorist. It happens.

Inclining his head, he acquiesces to approach the door. Shrugs his left shoulder, briefly, testing the feel of his jacket sleeve to no discernible shift of his facial expression. "Work stuff? Tennis racket for the club?"

"It's fine, you were busy. You weren't obligated to come." She points out as she shuts the door. Eve smiles as they walk, "Though seeing you more.. it would have helped me. With my slight stage fright." She moves to the elevator as they talk. "Nope, my guns and a few other weapons. A few clothes." Eve leaves it at that but as she finally notices his hand and she tilts her head at him. "What happened to your hand?" concern heard in her voice.

Disbelieving, at that: "You, stage fright?" A glance downward, and Teo notices the sliver of linen bandage showing out from underneath the cuff of his sleeve where he'd stuck his hand deep into his pocket in some casual effort at concealment. Too casual, apparently. He grimaces slightly, leaves his eyes in a squint. "Helped somebody out. It'll be okay in a couple days.

"Going to war?" He watches the elevator button light up when she
presses it.

"Just sometimes.. afraid I might mess up." Eve admits and looks up at the man. As the elevator opens, she walks in to lean against the wall. One foot against the elevator wall. At the mention of war. "No.. not war. Staten." She just decides to stay there. "I'm going to be there for a little while.." she says slowly and stares at Teo. "There are things, in the work. Things.. I have to take part in."

Teo knows what that's like. He also knows how people get when there's something going on they can't tell you about, or believe they can't— which is probably the same thing, really. "I spent about two months over there. On and off," he answers. "It's a good place to go for all the reasons it's bad. Which is funny until somebody loses an eye." Bad joke. Deckard isn't here, though. He twists his mouth. "Let me know if you need something the Ferry can't provide you?"

"Of course I will." Eve says, the woman smiles softly at Teo. Though she looks at him for a tad to long and she coughs a bit and looks down to her feet. Blushing slightly. "How are things with the saving of the Phoenix members?" she takes another look up at Teo before looking away.

Teo hadn't been about to blush until the seer started. It's contagious or something, and he has one of those faces. His eyes drift to the floor before he lifts them again, rights his brain out. Back on the subject.

If there is one that's going to take his mind off the probability of repeat infidelity, it would be that. Moab is a sobering prospect. "They're— fuck. On-schedule, I guess. In a couple days, we should have everything we're gonna get. 'Nd then…" A shrug seesaws through his shoulders, a little hopeless. It isn't his idea of a fun trip: a day with explosives in Mormon Land. His cheeks puff out in a sigh. "Andn then we go."

"You will get them." She says simply. Whether or not she is speaking from a dream is not known. Eve places a hand on Teo's shoulder. "Just believe." The elevator dings and Eve begins walking to her apartment front door. A pondering look crosses her face, "Can I be completely honest with you?"

Behind her, the boy follows, obedient as a pup. A ghost of a smile for her reassurances, an answering shrug of his shoulder to nudge back the hand that she places there. There's a fleeting twitch of agony that makes him regret the latter motion instantly, but he glances away and blinks back heat before something overly embarrassing happens. "Si," he answers, afterward. Looks back. "What's up?"

A look of confusion passes over her face when Teo pulls away. But she quickly tries to hide it with a smile. "I wonder sometimes, how things would be if things were.. different between us." She confesses. "I'm not trying to put you into a awkward position. "Or is it just me.. or have you ever wondered the same thing?" Eve is blushing again.

"Yeah." Teo's answer is a half-beat delayed, fleetingly perplexed by her reaction as he is sorry for it. He looks at the rectangle of her door inset against the clean tile and plastic of the wall.

Smells like incense up here, the seepage out from underneath somebody else's door. It is an awkward question, she's right. Teo shifts on his shoes against a sudden, visceral stab of guilt. "I've wondered the same thing a couple times. Probably wouldn't work, mind you. I'm completely fucking talentless at dating." He offers the woman a smile wan with sincerity.

"Yeah.. and I don't have the best track record either." She smiles softly though the pain of the memories of Cameron. But she quickly brushes them aside. His spirit is at rest, his killer put down. Eve unlocks the door to her apartment and pushes it open. "I've thought about it a lot. But I know that it wouldn't have worked." Eve grins as she begins to enter her apartment. "I was thinking back to the old days.. before Kazimir.. before everything got so complicated." Eve chuckles softly. "It's fine.. to look back sometimes. Right? The future.. gets so dark."

For her more than for most, Teo is sure. He deals with things in terms of tomorrow's meal, next week's attack, next month's overall faction agenda. Things like that. He doesn't have to deal with the amorphous vicissitudes of the dreamscape, its symbols, its horrifying portents.

He's pretty sure that would make him go crazy. Eve is relatively sane for all that. "I think so. 'S just thinking." Everybody does it. Salvatore about learning Italian and how to sail properly, Alexander about going home to a house all his own on Georgia, Helena about her boy and her roof gardens. There's no harm in that.

He stops at the threshold of her doorway, leans his shoulder against the frame. His good shoulder.

Eve smiles softly and closes her eyes. "Thanks." She grins and leans against the door, looking at Teo. "My.. you have been roughing yourself up." She grins and then looks at the ceiling. "I'll see you soon." It's a promise, a vow.

"Besides, you still need to come here me sing again. I'll be singing at a new place, the Happy Dagger." She has no idea what this name means to Teo or how he will react to it.

And Teo reacts—

—badly. Blanches white as a sheet, stares, and the color sings high, red on the apples of his cheeks. For a moment, he says nothing. As if waiting for some inevitable word of contradiction, punchline, verification that this is a fucking assassination attempt. Yes, he's roughing himself up. No, that isn't— not compared to— "John Logan was involved in the fucking kidnapping ring that took Abby, a half dozen unwilling fighters, and fucking tortured people who tried to rescue them. You're singing where?"

"Oh.. was he?" Eve asks and tilts her head. "Good to know.. that may present a problem." Eve flips her ponytail behind her shoulder. "I have to be there Teo.. the center of it all." Close to the center at least. "He doesn't know my connection with Abby." Eve looks down at the floor. "My visions.. they are in Staten Island." Eve holds her arm as she thinks to what she can do to fix this. "How about I promise to try and not sing there and not run into Logan.. fair?"

The great Sicilian fluster subsides, albeit with twitching aftershocks. Teo simply stands there, his breath unsteady and over-heated in his lungs and a headache kicking the insides of his temples. He closes his eyes briefly. Reopens them. "I understand," he replies, after a moment of difficult silence. "You— can do what you like. Logan might not be a threat to you, but if you took exception to the way he was doing business he could become one.

"Unfortunately, I seriously doubt most employers on Staten Island are less disreputable than that." His eyes brighten, flatten, sharpen again. "I'd ask what your visions are about, but I should probably fuck off and mind my own business."

"Why are acting this way?" Eve puts a hand on her hip, "As if the things you say don't matter to me." The woman stares Teo down. "I always listen to what you have to say.." she doesn't say that she does it because she still has feelings for the man.

She leans against the door and lifts her chin so that she is staring at the ceiling. "My visions.. something is coming.. I have to help stop it." Eve closes her eyes briefly and whatever dreams she has been having play across her mind again. "They are still confusing but the one thing I can get out of them is that I have to be on Staten for a while."

"Promise me, that you aren't mad. That you can understand." The latter is something she knows can't be true. /Nobody/ understands her. Not one bit.

In Teo's admittedly theatrical tendencies of thought, nobody ever understands anybody else. Which isn't to say that there aren't universal experiences of emotion. Guilt, fear, anger, loyalty, love in all its desperate incarnations. He looks at her dolefully. "I'm sorry. I don't mean— I'm not trying to hurt you. It's been a strange few weeks. My temper's been short. I just mean I'm… trying not to pry.

"You know?" Teo's eyes shade downward, pitch up at her face again. He tries to smile, haplessly. "I can't ever tell when something is my business or when it isn't anymore. 'M not mad. Swear." His ducks his head through her doorway, checking that she's gotten everything she needs. "'M not mad."

The bag of supplies was already at her door waiting from the previous day. Eve hefts the bag and looks at Teo, "Until I tell you that it isn't your business.. assume you can know about it." Eve says and runs a hand through her hair. "I.. think we're good friends. So good friends know things about their friend's lives and also give them their own honest opinion."

"Right?" When Teo mentions it has been rough for him, "What's been going on? You seem different.. we're all different. Every since the Vanguard, but.. it seems like there is more to it.

"I just miss 'em," the Sicilian answers blankly. Beat's pause. "Well, and my arm kind of hurts despite the painkillers. Mostly, I miss them." Teo's gaze had strayed into disfocus against some obscure point on her living room wall, but he shakes off his reverie with a blink. "The ones who were taken. If I don't get them back, I think—

"I'll be…" He doesn't even have words. "Maybe that's shallow on some level. I wasn't hanging out with 'em much before the Vanguard shit climaxed at the end of January, but I really fucking miss them now they're in trouble." He drops his head slightly, closes his eyes. Steps backward out of her doorway, holding it open with his good hand too let her back out with him.

The door is shut and locked and Eve begins to walk down the hallway. "They're your friends. Of course you miss them and want to help them. It might also be a bit off guilt.. for not being there when you think you should have." She ventures to lay a hand on his shoulder, for the second time. Though she is warily of him jerking away.

"You can't go back in the past to fix it.." if you were Hiro you could but Teo isn't. "The only thing to do now is too save them, but when you save them. Don't take them for granted again." The woman's grey eyes look up at Teo's face. "You spend time with them.. and be there for them when you get them out." Again with the when not if. Eve smiles softly. "You always blame yourself for things that you have no control over." She points out.

There's a slight scowl in response, child that Teo remains, but no flinch to misinterpret this time. "I blame myself for plenty of shit I have control over, too," he points out. He starts back down the hallway on a long stride, grating blunt fingertips through the porcupine bristle of his hair. He is, unfortunately, less immune to 'if's. "I don't know what I'd do if I fail."

That's not entirely true. The next instant, the corners of his mouth turn upward. "Try again. Fuckin'… Die doing it? There are worse things, aren't there?" His shoulders fall into the lines of a lazy slouch, his left more ginger than the right.

Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.

— TS Eliot, The Love Song Of J. Alfred Prufrock

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