2008-09-21: Here We Are


Lee_icon.gif Nima_icon.gif Jamie_icon.gif Church_icon.gif Niki_icon.gif DL_icon.gif Cam_icon.gif Micah_icon.gif Elisabetha_icon.gif Novak_icon.gif DaphneM_icon.gif Peter_icon.gif Kitty_icon.gif Cass_icon.gif Lachlan_icon.gif Benjamin_icon.gif Meryl_icon.gif Erin_icon.gif Taine_icon.gif Christa_icon.gif

+ Hunter, Marie and Cybil

Voiceover by: Mohinder

Summary: The end of journeys, the middle, the beginnings; at this moment in time, we leave our heroes here, wherever they are, and look ahead to the future.

Date It Happened: September 21st, 2008

Here We Are

The sign on the window glows in the night: THE TRENTON DINER. A constant stream of cars go by. Nima sits on the left, Lee sits on the right.

Lee says, "Skipping forward in time that far is a complete cheat."

Nima replies, "Aren't you the one who says too much tiresome detail gets in the way of the story?"

Lee retorts: "It's a cheap way of getting character development without actually showing it."

The waitress approaches. Lee has a ham sandwich, Nima a BLT. Nima smirks, but admits: "Most of the comics I've seen that have tried it…it wasn't that great."

Lee says, "Even comics get something right once in a while. Like a stopped clock."

MOHINDER: We dedicate our lives to finding what it is that makes up happy.

Stepping out of the apartment building and across the sidewalk, Cam stuffs his small bag into the car with the other suitcases, and then steps back, sitting down on the edge of the sidewalk while Niki and D.L. load the heavier stuff. He pulls a folded paper from his pocket, the information on their new school that he had Micah print out, and starts to read it with a smile. This was going to be a great year. When the car's finished loading a moment later, he stands, pockets the sheet and hurries to get in the car.

"I can't believe this is actually happening." Around the back of the Deveaux Building, Niki slides a heavy cardboard box marked 'COMPUTER STUFF' into the back of a white moving van parked behind the beat up Honda Civic, also crammed with belongings, of the same colour. It's night, but they're getting a head start. She brushes a few strands of blonde hair away from her face with a bare forearm — not because it's hard work, moving's easy with Niki around, but because her ponytail is a mess. She takes a break to lean against D.L. "We're finally gonna have our own place!" Thinking about the house they have waiting for them miles away, optimism suits her features — Niki's smile is a beautiful one tonight, wide and bright and sunny. "Thank you." For so many things.

What makes us … complete.

D.L. happens to be taking a break himself. There's no reason he needs to be moving around things when Niki and her amazing abilities are capable of handling all of the big things and small things with ease. He continues to stand at the back of the moving van, completely doing everything that it takes to supervise the packing of the van. He smiles, reaching out his arm to wrap it around Niki's shoulders, holding her close and just kind of smiling in the best way that he can possibly smile right now. "I love you." is whispered as he leans down to press a soft kiss to the top of her head.

Inside the moving van, Micah, crouching against the wall, pauses in his efforts to dig out something he packed by accident. The growing boyo genius listens through the metal wall of the dark, box-filledvan and smiles, sharing the same moment as Cam. They're all going to be okay.

Along the way, in that journey, to find one's true being — purpose…

Although she's not completely healed, Christa feels a hell of a lot better than she did before. Even so, one of her friends insisted on wheeling her out to the parking lot in a chair - mostly just because he honestly can't believe how fast she recovered. Thanks to whatever ability Peter had, though, along with her own talent, no one really seems to be that suspicious about the fact that a nasty stab wound healed over in a little over a week. Eventually, outside the hospital, she stands. Her car sits somewhere in the structure - a fairly long distance away, considering the slight thorn in her side feeling she's getting. It'll be nice to walk it out, though, and hopefully get back into her running routine as soon as possible. She'll be more careful in the future, that's for sure. It's just that it's a talent that she can so very rarely use. She'll find a way, though. There's always a way.

To distinguish ourselves from the crowd.

An airplane is waiting on the airstrip. Engine turned on, luggage packed. A man with a light smile gestures for Kitty to exit the limo and walk towards the plane. "Don't worry Miss Hanner, I will oversee the reconstruction of Hanner Manor, so by the time you get back. It'll be well underway." The older gentleman says with a nod from Kitty.

"Thanks Jensen." She says softly and looks up towards the sky, as she moves away towards the plane, another man comes up beside her. "I know you don't want to think about too much right now." He starts and Kitty looks up towards the man, she doesn't recognize him. "But when you are ready, look us up." He hands her a card and just walks off, a wink following.

As Kitty looks down she reads the words. Primatech on the front.

We struggle to understand the world we live in.

In Bat Country Labs, Cass is stretched out on one of the cots in the spare rooms. It's dark out - very late - though it's impossible to tell in the basement. Maybe it can be felt, however. Her face is pale and her hair is stringy with sweat. Her hands are obviously shaking as she takes a glass of water from Lachlan, who is kneeling by the bedside with a hand on her forehead and steadying the water enough for her to drink it. With him, he hands her some medicine tablets for her to wash down. After a few sips of water and the pills, she pushes it away and drops off into a troubled sleep.

In turn, we struggle to understand ourselves.

Jamie on the roof of the apartment building where she's been living with Erin and Ali. Feet dangling over the ledge, she looks down at the street below, watching the cars pass and the people walking along. Behind her, nervously farther from the edge of the roof, stands her friend Calvin from school. "Tomorrow's my dad's final hearing. He'll get out, but dunno where we'll be going to live after. Bet dad's gonna get the circus going again." Then silence, neither child really knowing how to say goodbye.

What causes the exhilarating rush of chemicals in our brains that makes us feel love? Hope for the future?

The ambulance screams out a roar of a warning to those on the road as it heads off toward its destination. The darkness of night only making their trip more perilous. As the paramedics burst though the stands kids gasp and gossip about what just happened. Transporting the young male from the cold floor of the concrete sitting area to a cot, the paramedics rushed back down the stands toward the ambulance. "We should inform Mr. Moore's mother." The principal would say as the ambulance left the school's football game on route to the hospital.

Leanna Hodges flung the hospital doors aside running up to see her son in an intensive care unit. "You said he was faking it!!!" She'd yell out accusingly at the doctors. Not that one of them in specific had told her that. She didn't care, a doctor had, and they were all the same to her at this moment. "Is he okay?! What's happened?!" She would begin asking through the tears only to get the same responses time and time again. "Your son is stable Mrs. Moore and were doing everything we can to find out what caused the nose bleed and fainting." As if that could ever comfort a mother, they didn't even know her last name.

Guilt for the past?

The building rooftop is square and small, spectacular only in that its entire front is taken up by gigantic electronic lettering that flickers between working and looking like a Wheel of Fortune puzzle. Whatever it's ultimately supposed to say doesn't matter to the small blonde figure lounging in the metal kerning; Daphne's only got eyes for the sunset that glints off her perch and the stack of old manila folders in her hands. One helpfully illuminates the other, but soon even that light will be gone. Her body moves slowly at first, like she's been in that same position for a long while. Really, really long, considering who she is. But finally she's bringing her feet down and stepping off the ledge onto the roof proper. Flop. The stack of files goes down to the ground in front of her, spilling some open and revealing photo upon photo of unwitting targets. At the edge of one paper, the tip of a helix logo. It's the first thing to go up when she drops the lighter on the stack, etching the symbol in ashes in the concrete before blowing away in the breeze of a speedster's wake.

When in fact we are human, what fuels the fire, the hunt to find our humanity?

A lot can happen in a year. Elisabetha had gone from a barely-living emotionless husk, who saw death as a viable means of ending suffering in others, to something resembling her former self, from before her 'gift' awakened. She was being tutored by a new teacher, Mr. Jones, and though he wasn't the same as her Teacher (with a capital T), he was still teaching her all kinds of wonderful things! She had discovered she liked poetry, for instance. "60 million years ago, back in the late cretaceous, there lived the great Tyrannosaur, a fearsome and predacious, therapod of monstrous size. It weighed six tons or more! It epitomized the concept of the killer carnivore. Its jaws held teeth like railroad spikes, with fore and aft serrations. This dental hardware was designed for quick eviscerations!" she reads outloud to herself, in her frail voice, from a Calvin & Hobbes book, as she sits in her bedroom. Yes. Yes, this would do nicely. If she could memorize this entire poem, then she could recite it to Mr. Jones, and he would be very happy! And happiness negates suffering! Even now, after all she has been through, Elisabetha still knew the purpose of her existence is to end suffering. She just has a different way of doing it now. A life that was empty of everything, including suffering, was not a life at all. To live was to take all things in measure. Happiness, love, sadness, anger, and yes, even pain — these were parts of life. Elisabetha looks up from her book, expecting to see her Teacher standing there, with some bit of wisdom to share about life. But he was gone. Gone like he had been for months. Sighing, she brushes her long hair out of her face with her left — and only — arm, and returns to her 'studies'. She hopes that wherever he is, he is happy.

We find malice in each other when we realize what the human creature is capable of—

Novak Garbaldi walks along the sidewalk in New Orleans. He is silent due to the visions of ruin that greet his various heightened senses. The destruction of Hurricane Katrina was lingering, like a wound that would not fully heal. Wrecked houses left to rot, dirt caking everything, overturned cars, and similar sights. Inside of this wound, infection was spreading, both literally and figuratively. So many people suffered… And therein lay the reason he had originally set out to cure the world. His methods, using his daughter to end all life, had been wrong. But now that he was away from Elisabetha, and clear-headed, he once again could continue his personal crusade. This time, he would do it right. This time, he knew what he was looking for. People with gifts, who could be taught how to use those gifts. Things were changing. He could put together the pieces of the puzzle in his head, and he knew that soon, nothing would be the same. He just had to make sure he was on the right side this time.

Novak notices the nearest street light flicker and go out suddenly. Then two more, ahead and behind him. And then another two. Soon, he is alone in a low-cost housing neighborhood, in darkness — except for the starlight. He calmly looks about himself, keenly aware that he is not truly alone. There are others in the shadows, and they are moving in. Novak waits until the leader of this gang approaches, electricity jumping all over the young man's body, before saying, "I told you I would come alone. There was no need for you to go through all this trouble." He smiles at the African-American boy before him, as lightning flashes in the youth's eyes, reflecting off Novak's glasses. "Have you given my offer any thought?" The boy doesn't answer. Instead an older man steps silently closer from behind, and Novak turns to look at him despite that silence. A hand shoots out and grasps Novak by the throat. Novak's eyes bulge in shock as he fights against the grip on his throat. And then he screams out in pain. The gang scatters, electrokinetic youth included, leaving Novak to his fate…

And how some among us have taken darker paths in their pursuit of happiness.

It's night; almost time for her to get to work. She's only been here a few weeks, but it's long enough to settle in; to find the diseased places … and to start to clean them. Cybil treks to the roof of her apartment building, a boot coming to rest on the edge of the roof and her thumbs hooking in her pockets. Although she does not smile, a grimly pleased thought crosses her mind: Yes, this will do.

Yet still, we find peace in knowing we are not alone in our thoughts.

After much convincing on Ben's part, Meryl's finally given in to waiting a few months for the wedding, and not doing it, say, tomorrow like she'd wanted to. She's got her arms around him as they look back at her now-empty apartment. It's amazing how much stuff she managed to fit in there, which is now going to be slightly more spread out in an actual house. "Can't believe we're waiting a year," she says. "September 23, 2009. D'you know how long this is going to seem to me? I can barely keep my mind on anything for five minutes."

Benjamin leans against her shoulder. "Considering everything you have to get done before then, I don't think it'll seem like that long."

He that knows himself knows others.

The evening finds Marie at home, alone. Her living room has been cleared, the furniture shoved against the wall of windows that overlooks the city. The curtains are drawn, the lights dimmed, and she is in her gi, working through a few familiar katas. It's more than mere recitation; it's interpretation, spoken in her own physical voice. Eyes shut, she feels the unspoken words that each motion entails, relishing the silence. Some days, that's all she craves. Tonight, such a thing will be fleeting. Her phone rings. It's James, of course; she knows before she answers it. He speaks; she listens. For him, she has only two words: "Of course." She hangs up the phone and retreats to her room for a quick shower and a change of clothes. Time for her real work to begin.

…and through the knowing of each other, we come to know ourselves. To know yourself is to know your purpose.

"Good news," Erin says to the set crew. She's perched atop a bridge set, looking down into what the camera would consider 'water,' were it an actual river. At the moment, it's filled with people and tracking for the camera. "Ratings are way up for the show. ABC just renewed us for the next three years. Didn't raise our budget, though. Bastards." Maybe one of them will end up with stomach flu in the next few days. No one would be able to pin it on her! "We're gonna have to make do with what we have, but at least you all have jobs." Not exactly the peppiest pep talk ever, but, hey. It works. And her crew can derive whatever encouragement from it that they want to, because, seriously, in times like this, it's good to have a job. As she steps down from the bridge, the newest prop-monkey runs up to her, a hopeful, albeit worried look on his face. Erin claps his shoulder. "Not cancelled. Back to work," she says, and gives him a shove out of her way.

Not cancelled is good news. Or perhaps not. Taine sits in his dressing room looking over the new script. "What do you bleeding mean I get turned into a vampire!? I just finished being a werewolf for the last bloody year." Putting the script down, he says with a grouchy voice. "I'm going to have some words with the writers."

And so we go on our way, continuing the journey within.

Being put back together piece by piece can be painful; when you fall apart again and open old scars, it can sometimes be twice as painful to sew oneself together a second time. John Smith did just that, months and months ago, to the man he only knew as his vessel. Lawrence Church was never one to go over the life he had before The Company, and even after John has been zipped back into the cobwebs of his mind- he still resists. Knowing that you quite possibly have a family leftover, however, can be harrowing at best. But in the end, the least that Church can do for the man whose body he is living in- was give him a glimpse that everything is still okay.

John left behind a brother and a daughter. And now, a grandson. That is the first thing that Lawrence noticed, waiting in the park behind the simple guise of aviator sunglasses. He knew their names, yes, but seeing them was something that perhaps he was not entirely ready for. He stayed just long enough to watch Russell and Charlotte buy Dylan a sno-cone from a street vendor. That was all that he could take before slinking away, damn him if you must.

And somehow, now that Lawrence is back in New York, things seem like home again. Straight to Central Park, walking the sidewalks that he's gone over a hundred times since just last year. He watches and searches the sparse figures of the September night for a familiar face; Church eventually smiles broadly to the chilly air, heading off towards an obnoxiously colored playground on the nearby horizon.

But what happens…

Picking up a photograph from his dresser, Peter looks at the picture of him and his brother with a fish. It'd been at a place called Pinehearst, a creek and forested area where their father would take them hunting and fishing. Their father had taken the picture. Eyes linger on the picture until he puts it back down, drifting up to his own reflection in the sectioned mirror on his dresser. One of the square sections has a crack through it, cutting across his face, scarring him. Picking up his cellphone, he scrolls down to a number, dials, and raises it. "I've considered it and I'm going to come work with you."

Once we arrive?

Through the window Angela Petrelli sits beside, streetlights shines into a high scale restaurant on the Upper East Side of New York City. Dinner has yet to arrive, leaving the tablecloth in front of her empty and pristine, save for a tall glass of wine. The woman is holding a small black cell phone to her ear and smiling at the waiter who approaches, her polite nod to the side telling him to give her just one moment. She has an important phone call. "I thought you might say that. You're just in time." Angela looks out into the city, dark eyes gaining a glint of worry, of knowledge, of things to come. "We're going to need you."


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