2007-05-10: Black Canary And Superman Stories


Jane_icon.gif Nathan_icon.gif

Summary: A Saturday morning phone call and meeting, with conversation.

Date It Happened: May 10th, 2007

Black Canary And Superman Stories

Central Park, Manhattan, NYC

PHONE: You dial the number 283-6969. It begins to ring.

PHONE: The other end answers, "Yeah?"

PHONE: Jane says, "Morning, Nathan. Jane Forrest on this end. It's a good day for a walk in Central Park."

PHONE: Nathan says, "Jane, morning." He sounds a little distracted, probably pre-occupied with something very important like reading or writing or making/consuming coffee, considering it's not yet noon. "Is it? Didn't notice."

PHONE: Jane chuckles. "I thought about coming to the mansion, but there might be paparazzi and reporters hanging around these days. You've not commented on the Senatorial possibility, and with that in mind you might not want photos of an insurance magnate's daughter coming around in case you're not interested or wanting to leave the public guessing."

PHONE: Nathan's chuckle comes roughly through the phoneline, not entirely mirthful. "There's a couple of vultures around these days, yeah, so probably a wise move. I'm just attempting to handle this whole thing with some caution this round.

PHONE: Jane says, "I won't keep you long, I'm sure the whole thing has you busy. I just wanted to wish you success, if you're after the seat."

PHONE: Nathan says, "Appreciated. How is—" A pause, and there's some muffled talking, clearly someone's entered the room and Nathan's addressing them. Then, his voice returns. "Sorry. Anyway. You were saying Central Park?"

PHONE: Jane says, "I'm there now. Temp's nearly seventy already, the sun is out."

PHONE: Nathan says, "I guess it is. I could use an excuse…" He seems to reconsider this sentence, so leaves it at that and starts again. "I'll be round there soon."

PHONE: Jane says, "See you, Nathan."

After the call ends, Jane settles onto a bench near the entrance closest to the Upper West Side and takes out her guitar. It's plugged in to the miniamp and the case left open near her feet. This morning she's in a dark skirt that stops just above her knees, the ankle height brown boots with two inch heels, and a tank top bearing the image of Carly Simon. She begins to play, improvising and composing as she goes along, there's no lyrics as yet. Maybe they'll form in her mind later.

It takes a little bit of waiting on Jane's part before Nathan arrives, but that's to be expected. He arrives, walking, dressed down - proving that he does actually own a pair of jeans, although it is coupled with a rather /dad/ like button-down shirt. He raises an eyebrow upon easily picking Jane out in this environment, hearing her guitar before actually seeing her, and he wanders on over, inviting himself to sit down on the bench. "You're at this a lot."

She's not troubled by waiting, in fact she carries her own means of dealing with it around and uses such time creatively, as he can hear on the approach. She's in top form, even. "I like it," Jane replies with a grin, as her fingers still. "It works for so many things. Being happy, being angry or sad. And it's pure. Just me and the audience." A cup of coffee is lifted and sipped from before she speaks further. "Good to see you, Senator."

The usual correction here would be 'congressman, ex' - it's amazing how many people seem to mix the two - but in this case, Jane isn't mistaken. Not for that reason, anyway. All the same, Nathan quirks a smile, gesturing absently. "Not yet, if ever," he corrects. "Not announcing anything until I'm sure."

A quiet laugh begins her reply, coupled with a nod. "I get that," Jane states. "Just thought I'd use the title and see how it feels to hear yourself addressed by it." His face is studied as she says this, perhaps to gauge that very reaction. "Now if you could just play guitar, you might be the perfect candidate."

"Well, it feels shaky," Nathan says, rather honestly, because his features give very little away. "Been down a similar road and it hasn't quite worked out for me." He diverts the conversation, however, back to her criteria of a perfect candidate, and he contemplates this for a moment before saying, "So you just go ahead and assume I can't play a guitar?" He /sounds/ serious, but there is a detection of humour, there.

"Can you?" Jane asks, moving to slip the strap from her neck and hand the instrument off with a chuckle. "Maybe you can, I'd have thought you would've already said so if that's the case. Let's hear."

Damnit. She's calling him on that one. All the same, Nathan takes the guitar like it might explode, before more comfortably settling it on his lap. "When I say 'play', that was a liberal interpretation of the word," he mutters, even as he places his hands on the instrument with unpracticed awkwardness, but with clearly some working knowledge on how one goes about a guitar. When he picks out a note, he glances at the mini-amp, having forgotten that it was hooked up, before shrugging minutely. Then, he actually does play. Ish. In another world, it may have been Knockin' on Heaven's Door, but at the very least, it bears a close resemblance, even if it's played very slowly as he tries to recall it from memory, without much finesse. After about five seconds, he adds, "Haven't touched one of these in a while." Then a note goes horribly awry, and he /stops/. "For good reason."

She listens, and speaks encouragingly when he ceases. "Not bad," Jane remarks with a spreading grin. "Just needs practice to scrape the rust off." She pauses for some moments, thinking, and closes her eyes as if coming to a realization. "This whole Senate bit reminds me of some things I need to do, very soon. Should have done them already."

The 'not bad' gets a good-natured eyeroll, and Nathan passes the guitar gladly back to the woman. "I'm not about to quit my day job," he says. Or likely practice, for said rust-scraping. Some teenage impulse learnings need to stay dead, in Nathan's book. Not his fault music was awesome in his day. Her next words, however, cause him to look at her, curiously. "What things?"

Her reply is spoken with some signs of personal chastisement and embarrassment. "Getting a New York driver's license, and…" Jane trails off, perhaps unwilling to say the other thing out loud when speaking with a potential Senate candidate who was the only person to look for her in those mid-March dark days. "It'll all be knocked out Monday morning."

"I'd say things have been a little distracting for you," Nathan points out, resting now against the bench, arms folding across his middle. "The last thing I'm thinking about is the fact that I got less than a year before I have to renew mine." Then again, for a guy who gets driven everywhere or otherwise /flies/ when in a tight spot, as well as having handy employees and assistants to take care of this stuff on his behalf, this can't be the biggest priority for him. "Elle still staying with you?" Perhaps an abrupt change of subject, but god knows he believes living with someone like Elle would be plenty distracting from the mundane.

"There is that," Jane replies, before admitting "Drivers license and voter registration, Monday morning." That would be the part, ostensibly, which embarrassed her. The question of her roommate brings a calm reply. "She is. And is learning things. Her life has been… unusual." Now that's an understatement. "Her father seems to have come to terms with things. That said, I'd still be interested in meeting him, and volunteered to do so."

The admission about voter registration gets a flicker of an amused smile from Nathan. But hey, he doesn't judge. She might not be getting a special redwhiteandblue 'Petrelli for Senator' pin if she doesn't get it sorted out, but there are worse things in life. Her last comment, however, draws an impatient sigh from Nathan. Predictably, perhaps. "Duck and cover's really not your style, huh?"

"Things are what they are," Jane replies somberly. "She and I live in the same place, they know who I am, and can likely find me whenever they want to. I'm tagged, after all. And I think the raid wasn't the first time I had memories altered. I met with Rianna a day or two after we talked, wanted to know a bit more about the person who'd explored my brain, so I went there. She said her Foundation knew about me. One of her associates saw me shatter a Times Square street lamp, and contact was made, I presume. The odd thing: Neither of us remembered meeting the other."

"You were tagged before the raid," Nathan says, quietly, with a slow nod. "I think that was some of the reason for you being there. They'd gotten to you before." He glances at her, as if trying to figure out if he should have told to her more about how they knew each other and why. Perhaps at this stage of the game, it would have been best. At this news of having met and unremembered Rianna, as it were, Nathan raises an eyebrow. "Small town, is New York City. What do you think of her?" Odd question, perhaps, but so much of this hinges on her, likely more than Jane knows.

"She's interesting. Not hard to speak with," Jane replies. "I can see myself paying more visits in the future. And I have curiosities, about things I'd prefer not to believe. More than likely it was idle contemplation, if it's true. I've been told Hiro said she had theories about a master race. I don't think of us in terms like that, but… being who we are I have to admit thinking about the origins. Dominant versus recessive genes. Biology wasn't my forte, but I took the courses and haven't forgotten everything. Can't really comment on her potential views without hearing them directly from her."

"Can't say I understand the whole evolutionary thing myself," Nathan admits, freely. He's no scientist, after all. "But I don't think she's looking for superiority. Just to…" He gestures vaguely, perhaps a little uncomfortable about this topic. "Integrate, I guess. Not sure how possible that will be, takes a lot of courage to understand this stuff." God knows it's taking /him/ long enough.

"Not having to hide would be pleasant," Jane admits. "But in the practical span of things, that's probably several generations away from being safely possible. I think there'd still be too much fear in the world now, of things new and not understood. And with us being such a distinct minority, we don't really have the numbers to head off the hysteria of anything like the Salem Witch Trials. Of those who don't fear us, there'd be so many trying to exploit us, to study and duplicate what we do for commercial gains. Make us into lab rats. Some others would give calm acceptance, of course, but the idea is still a very dangerous one. The best we could do is prepare the world. So many of the most popular fictional heroes aren't very different from us, ideas and seeds planted already. Black Canary, Superman…"

"That's what I'm afraid of," Nathan agrees. "I know if I was on the other side of the fence, I'd see us as something the world needs protecting from, not something to accept." He goes contemplatively quiet for a few moments, thinking back through the past few days, and he lets out a small moment of laughter, more bitter than mirthful. "Then again, my wife's getting used to the idea and I thought this'd spin her world out for her. Guess we can always adapt."

It's a rueful chuckle Jane starts her response with, after thinking it over. "We have to adapt or go nuts. Most of us are stronger than we know, even when we feel about to snap. I broke that one street lamp in Times Square, it was only the second time I'd heard ultrasound and it made me scream. Hell of a way to find out how potent my voice can be. I haven't lost it in public since." She pauses. "I've not told anyone in my family, at all. How did you tell Mrs. Petrelli? She probably insisted on proof."

The glance Jane gets here is almost a wince, and though Nathan's not unhappy to explain (hell, he brought it up), the subject matter itself is all kinds of complicated. "There was a situation, a week or so back," he says, voice quieter despite the fact that those that walk by pay them no attention. "A dangerous one. I guess I snapped too, I sort of." Fidget. "Flew out a window. Not the most ideal way I wanted Heidi to find out, but it is what it is."

"You're safe, and she's safe?" Jane's question carries the sort of expectation its answer is yes, given Nathan is sitting here talking and didn't say his wife is injured, so… "Sometimes we fret endlessly over the right moment for big sharings, and the perfect moment finds us instead. Danger happened, you needed to play hero, and did?"

"Not so sure about hero, but I played something all right. Besides the guitar, badly." Diversion! Nathan casts Jane a slight smile, and moves to stand up from where he's sitting. "My intention was that she'd find out on my terms," he adds, "so I guess I gotta readjust and adapt too. Learning curve."

"Readjust, adapt," Jane replies with a quiet chuckle. "Did you know two guitar straps and one from a camera makes a decent rope for pulling people out of water?" While asking that, she eyes the one on her case. It's got metal connecting hook ends, the removable sort. "I learned that a few weeks back at Battery Park."

Qua? Nathan squints at Jane, glances also to her guitar case, then just shakes his head. "Maybe we should exchange Black Canary and Superman stories over a few drinks some other time," he says, because god knows this kind of talk makes him want several. "I gotta get going." Politicians don't even get the weekend off, apparently.

"I could be up for that," Jane replies, "it's all still a mixed bag. The sense of wonder and the optimism combined with a side of I should've been careful what I wished for. That interesting life in New York City thing, well… it happened. Take care, Nathan."

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