Starring:
Date: October 15, 2009
Summary:
Two people meet at Battery Park as the sun sets. There are tremors.
"Liberty's Sunset"
Battery Park
The light rain stopped not too long ago, but some people still carry umbrellas in worry. The chill of the evening air makes the lingering foot traffic small. People hurry to catch their ferries and water taxis, and few tourists linger looking out at the statue. There is at least one person lingering, though, standing against the cold railing, next to one of the pay-to-view binoculars, looking out onto the harbor as the sun casts bright colors as it creeps under the hazy cloud cover. Peter's dressed in dark colors, as he often is, a heavy coat, dark jeans, boots, but he's lacking all of the coverings that some people are sporting. No scarf, no gloves.
Alexandra is one of those people walking about the park with all the equipment necessary to weather a hurricane practically. Clopping down the footpath in heels, she slings the heavy-lookinh pink handbag over her left shoulder, the handle of an umbrella sticking out from the back, bumping against the back of her arm. That right arm is still sore from the events of last week, healing well and cleanly, but still a little sore if she holds her bag on that arm. Though it had been a long day at work, one in which it was her turn to get up in front of the team and present, she had known right from the start she was going to get down here and check out the Statue tonight from Battery Park since today's meetings were in Lower Manhattan. The lower parts of pressed white slacks can be seen sticking out the bottom of a pink overcoat; the top of a similarly (to the coat) covered ribbed turtleneck sticks out of the top. Dangling earrings and loose hair complete the look, as she strides down toward the water to get a good look at the Statue in the surprisingly nice sunset, chilly or not.
While staring out onto the water, Peter keeps looking at Liberty, standing tall. A symbol of freedom and liberty to all Americans, in a country that's presently doing anything but offering freedom and liberty. Hair slides against his forehead, falling out of a perch of his ear, as he repeats the part of inscription that he knows by part. "Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free…" As a woman walks by behind him, something begins to raise up. Anger and frustration at the country founded on values, locking people away for nothing else but a genetic trait that they happen to have. There's a shift in the ground below, so small it could be mistaken for a subway car, or an accident, or a plane flying too low. But it's none of that. It's the earth answering his inner frustrations, with a very mild tremor radiating out from him.
Most people in New York City, used to the trembling of the street from thousands of footsteps, rumbling of cars, thumps into potholes and over speedbumps, the passage of subway cars, and the clacking of passenger trains would hardly have paid much attention to such a thing. But then Alexandra isn't a New Yorker, and she certainly isn't just most people. One second, she's walking along and then then next, there's a small earthquake. It's not much, a little baby quake by most standards, but it's enough to stop her in her tracks. She's maybe…10 feet beyond the man in black, but he definitely seems to be the epicenter. Doing her best not to disturb, she turns to look, watching, her brows furrowed. Is he…like her?
The tremor was so small that only the birds really seem to notice besides the two of them. Pigeons and gulls take off from where they are, small panicked sounds as they fly away. They don't have to go far, because it stops quickly enough, leaving the man in black looking suddenly startled. His hand pulls away from the railing as he looks down at it. Confusion paints his face. And then— it happens again. Wings flap and feathers fall as the birds move yet again, leaving him to look around in worry. Unstable abilities are not a thing of the past as much as he might hope.
That look is…shockingly familiar. Alex can remember back to the first time strange rumblings happened around her. Different coast, where seismic activity was not uncommon. As she stands there watching-the way he pulls back from the railing and gives that startled look at his hands and the metal-that's really all she needs to know. She's no expert at her own ability, not by a long shot, but her four years spent in California at school gave her a chance to become pretty skilled at causing (and settling) earthquakes like this around her. Hanging out in the middle of the footpath there by the water, Alex takes a deep breath, making herself as calm as possible. She closes her eyes, continuing to breath calmly, and as suddenly as they started, the tremors stop.
With a nudge from the one with more familiarity and training, they do stop, and don't start up again. For a moment, it seems like they could, but they can be stopped as well. Peter let's out a soft sound, a sigh of relief really, and his hands finally drop as he looks around. There's still confusion in his eyes— it could be an old ability he absorbed surfacing— or a new one. But once he focuses on the young woman, something clicks. Maybe it's the way the tremors stopped, and how he felt them stop, or the way she stands and looks. A few steps bring him closer, "I— Hi." That didn't come out at all awkward— except that it did.
His words are really what seem to bring her out of that very centered place she's at right now. "Uh…h-hullo" she says, surprisingly softly, looking a little shocked that he's now quite a bit closer. She's just a tiny slip of a woman, having to look up at him as he comes close to make up for the difference in height. Even as she stands there, she looks maybe a little tense, maybe a little focused, but not unfriendly. Even if Peter can feel the tremors boiling up in his body (since the feeling of causing them is very much tumultuous, the same way that stopping them is calming), they're quickly suppressed. Making the eath move is very much tied to emotions, Alex has found.
Just like her ability, Peter's power ties in with emotion. They two grouped together, along with the inner turmoil of what he knows is happening and has, as yet, been unable to do anything about… There's a lot to be angry and frustrated about— a lot of tension he can't quite let out. Unfortunately he's now picked up an ability he already knows is dangerous, if it gets too far out of control. "Are you…" he hesitates, glances around a moment, before pulling his coat in closer around him. There's a moment when she can see his breath. "Did you feel that?"
"I…yeah. I felt it. Are you…ok?" His unease-that seems to be a good word to describe it-is clearly visable. "You look really stressed…cold too maybe." For the moment, Alexandra is (blissfully) unaware of the plans in motion, the things the government is responsible for. She's just a exceptional girl trying to make her way in the world, with her education to take her through…and her ability an ever-present addition, but not unwanted. Alex has, unknowingly, been letting her power shape who she is, making her into the patient, calm, collected woman with the indomitable spirit and surprising tenacity. In a flash, she digs into her purse, rumaging around, and comes out with a package of disposable tissue. "Tissue? Or…" She rummages around some more. "Chocolate?" she asks, pulling out a resealable plastic baggy with a few pieces of fun-size chocolates. "I don't know what might help more. I know chocolate helps for Dementors…and you just looked like Harry did in the movies, so…."
"I look like…" For a moment Peter doesn't seem to know what to think, and then he laughs, face a little lopsided as ge reaches out and takes the chocolate. "I'm sure I could use the sugar right now," he says, still smiling faintly as some of the tension goes away. The cultural reference seems to have done it. It must be the hair, falling into his face and forehead— and after a second glance up close, he has small scars visible on his face, like deep cuts from an accident that half healed over. Not quite a lightning scar, and they don't stand out too much, but they're there. "I am a little… stressed." More than a little.
"Yeah…seems like it. But I imagine a uh…earthquake can do that to people." She doesn't want to bring up the fact that he was the cause, and she tries her best to let that knowledge not show on her face. Girl's got a move of her own, it seems, as she gives her head a flick to the left, clearing away the hair that's fallen over her left eye from looking down and left into her bag of wonders; the dangly gold earrings she has on bounce around and make some noise as well. She just takes a moment, letting you root around in the candy, welcome to as much as he'd like to have. Finally, she offers up the whole thing…and her name. "Alex. Alex Lambert" she says, also offering a smile, and a handshake.
"I'm thinking I did it to the earth," Peter says quietly, a cautious sound to his voice as he watches her. It's the harmlessness that she gives off that keeps it from turning to suspicion. A piece of chocolate disappears into his mouth, giving him a much needed sugar recharge. Using abilities takes energy, and even without the earthquake, he tends to use… more than he should. "Nice to meet you, Alex," he says, taking her hand. His grip is firm, and not nearly as cold as it should be without gloves. "I'm Peter Petrelli."
She takes his hand about as firmly as can be expected given the difference in size, and gives a single firm shake. Her hands are, however, as soft and warm as might be imagined, kept moisturized with lotions (no doubt in that bag!) and stuffed warmly into her jacket pockets as she strolls. "Hi Peter, it's very nice to meet you" she says, significantly more at ease given his confession. But that look really only last a moment. So, 'he's like me' grows rapidly into 'HE'S LIKE ME' inside her head, and it shows on her face. Cautiousness turns to comfort turns to shock at the dawning realization. "T-that's odd. Are you saying you're…like me? You can cause earthquakes?"
Jacket pockets go a long way to keeping hands warm, but Peter doesn't have the benifit of little lotions in a mighty bag of holding. Then again he doesn't really need the bag, but that's hardly the point. The openness with having an ability is something he's grown into these days, but it still marks a kind of surprising moment, "I— sort of. I did make an earthquake once, but, that was— different." And he'd lost the ability since then, or he's pretty sure he did. Now it's come back. "I kind of— it's your ability and I'm just… using it." As he talks, there's an odd kind of gesture as if he knows it's very odd sounding. "How long have you been able to do that?"
"I…well…I mean…." Jig's up girly. It's pretty clear he knows a LOT more about the existence of powers than she does. Though Alex hadn't discounted the presence of others, she just…didn't know others could peg her for having one so easily. "Well…about eight years ago…at college. In California. Earthquake country out there."
"That's— longer than I've known, actually," Peter admits with that laugh again, glancing over toward the Statue and what he can still see of it. It's hard to spot, even with the setting sun under the cloud cover. A rainbow could happen, with these things converging all at once. But instead he looks back at the young woman. "Do you have a lot of control over it? Have there been any… incidents that someone— besides me— might have noticed?" Fate always seemed to have a way with him, maybe he waited to watch the sunset so that he could warn one person… or help them.
Before she answers, she flushes. "Well, there was this one incident…in a pub here in the city. I got angry…like you did, and there was a quake. Glasses falling off the tables and all, but I don't think anyone knows what happened." There was also that incident in the park that sparked that rumbling in the park, when a law officer harassed her and Sydney over the believability of a mugging that happened; they blamed it on a caped crusader…or two, or was it three? "But aside from that…it's usually not that big a deal. I use it for…." She smirks a little, mid sentence, snorting and laughing to herself a bit when she realizes how trivial her usage has been. "Gardening."
"Gardening? That— well that's useful. I could see gardening being a good use for that ability," there's not really relief in his voice, but for a moment he hesitates. Then suddenly Peter reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a card, almost as mysteriously fast as she pulled things out of her bag. "This is my cellphone number. There are others like us out there and… things don't always go well. There's…" That glance is cast out towards the statue again, there's a small rumble that rises up in the earth, but it calms quickly. "You should be careful, about what you can do. Especially right now."
She furrows her brow a little, taking the card, looking it over and giving a little nod. "W-what do you mean, things don't always go well? And what's special about right now?" Alex looks more than a little worried, this being the first time she's heard anything along these lines, but when Pete looks out over the water toward the statue, she looks out with him. Whether it's him settling the tremors or her settling them (or, whether it's him or her causing the rumbles in the first place), who's to say, but it doesn't get bad.
There's that cautious glance around again. Peter spots people moving toward the ferry ride, or hurrying to get out of the cold as quickly as possible, but no one lingering to stare at them, no black vans parked suspiciously. "You seemed surprise that I could— do things. But there are people that… aren't surprised. There's a… do you watch the news? A Senator recently spoke about terrorism and threats to the Security of the United States and— he wasn't talking about external terrorism or hate crimes… he was talking about us."
"No…no I don't usually watch the news. I'm sort of…in my little bubble with work and all." He looks around, and Alex can't help but do the same. She spins around a looks, looking over the passengers and the people scrambling to get home, wondering now if any of them are likely to have abilities. "W-why would they want to do that? I mean…I just use my…ability for gardening. It's not like I'm trying to hurt anyone with it. How could I be a terrorist to the United States if I haven't even hurt anyone?"
"There are dangerous aspects to what we can do, but— these people, whoever is behind it, they're not seeing any differences between the dangerous and the harmless, or even the helpful," Peter explains, still casting a glance away from her as if he's paranoid that someone will hop out of thin air at them. In this situation, he is paranoid. "I know how this sounds, a conspiracy theory or— just plain crazy, but I'm not crazy and it's not just a theory. I know it's happening and… Just be careful, and if you see anything you can call me. Cause I know people who can help. But if you've been careful, you may not have anything to worry about."
Her gut reaction is a little statement, mostly under her breath, in French. "(Bastards! Government bastards!)" she exclaims, finding it slightly more proper to swear in front of a stranger in a language that's not his or her own. Well, with the exception of the little happening in Central Park a little over a week ago. she's been careful. No public displays or things of that nature. "I…hope so. But thanks, for the heads up. I'll be more careful now. I sure hope nobody's been spying on my rooftop garden though. That would be damning, to say the least."
That's not the kind of French he hears out of his mother. Peter doesn't say it, nor does he recognize the curses, but— he recognizes the language just based on the sound. "I have one more question— it may come off as… odd, but do you happen to have two marks on the base of your neck? Like…" He reaches up, pulling down his own collar to touch at his neck where it meets the shoulders. He doesn't have those marks, but he knows it's the best way to know if certain people know what she can do. Things she wouldn't have remembered. "Right here."
Thought she knows right well that she doesn't, she still takes the time to pull down the tall collar of her ribbed turtleneck and feels around with her fingers. She even spins around to show him. "Nope, clean." She lets her collar go, and spins around to face him again. "Are they important? What do they mean?"
"It could mean that they already know about you, the Government," Peter says, looking relieved as he straightens his collar. It sticks up a bit when he does. "Since you don't have it and you've been careful, you may be safe." For the moment. But it's better than being compromised by a possible leak in the Company.
"O-ok, that's good. But I should still be careful, oui?" she adds, momentarily letting slip her Cajun heritage. "How will I know if I'm ever being targeted? What are these people like?" As if her life isn't stressful enough already…but then, this is a sort of life-or-death sort of stress.
"They're… government. If you can stay in busy places, or walk with others, you may be safest," Peter says, trying to think of the best way to describe them. "The ones I witnessed— they wore black. Masks and body armor, and used tasers. If they do go after you— I do not think they're hurting them, just containing them. I'm working with some others to try and… stop what is happening. To free the ones who have already been taken."
Decision time for Alex. Does she leave the safety and security of the life she knows, where she's a doctoral engineer working for a multinational and using her powers for rooftop gardening? Does she offer her help to Peter and volunteer her powers to help others like him and her, innocent people with abilities that have been targeted without cause by the government, and help free them. "I…uh…I could help too, you know. My abilities I mean…." She seems nervous about saying it, but she IS a good person, and can't stand for that injustice.
There's always a hesitation when someone offers help. Peter looks away for a moment, pressing his lips together. It seems he might say no— until he looks back and nods. "You're new to this, but if things get bad, you could be very useful. If you know how to garden and you can use your ability with the earth to do it. I don't want to throw you into anything that you aren't ready for, but… we could certainly use the help. Why don't you hold onto the number and think about it for a day or two, and if you still want to help… call me, and I'll introduce you to some people."
She nods at his suggestion. "That's more reasonable, yeah. I don't know if I won't wake up tomorrow and think this whole thing was a dream, you know?" She gives him a smile, a little strained, but still a smile. "I have a lot on my plate already, but…I'll think about it. Think about what I can do to help." She gives him a curt nod to cement the answer.
By this point, the sun has lowered to the point it's barely visible, casting a flickering reflection on the water, and long shadows on the pavement and earth. "I think everyone has a lot on their plate— just some people's plates are bigger than others," Peter says with a smile, reaching out to touch her arm briefly, much as he did her hand earlier. It's soft. And no more tremors of tension seem to be radiating out from him. "I'm glad you offered. I think if more people just offered to help things… would be a lot easier for everyone. I should get going, but if you do decide to help… there will be a place for you."