2008-01-06: Missing

Starring:

Heidi_icon.gif Jack_icon.gif

Summary: Heidi and Jack meet up to discuss the whereabouts of their husband.

Date It Happened: January 6th, 2008

Missing


Petrelli Mansion - NYC

“The higher we soar, the smaller we appear to those who cannot fly.” —Friedrich Nietzsche

She sent a call early in the morning, before the sun rose, even. It became a situation where nothing was happening, and she was going crazy with worry that she hadn't yet heard anything. Heidi knows the phones are being monitored. She knows that any conversation she has over them is likely to be overheard. In a way, that makes her feel safer, but it also means she's less comfortable discussing things over the phone. Jack is Nathan's best friend; he has a right to know what's going on, and since nothing's come in from the FBI yet regarding the case, well, it's kind of like taking care of two related things at the same time.

She's actually been waiting for Jack ever since she called, pacing between the sitting room and the door. It occurs to her that he might not even get the message until a lot later, but that hasn't stopped her from calling a couple more times and leaving messages similar to the first. Quantity over quantity?

Something like that.

It's after sunrise now. The kids are gone - School. Getting them ready to leave was a chore, because how do you put on a happy face when you saw blood all over a mural in the place where your husband was supposed to be going. Nothing's wrong, though… The kids think their dad's in Washington. That's how it should be.

Jack has finally started to regain some of the weight he lost during the initial stages of his detox, but he's still very thin and he looks much older than thirtyish. His hair has begun to grow in around the healed lacerations on his scalp, but it remains a patchwork process so he's keeping it trimmed very short. The sharp attire he's grown accustomed to is nowhere to be seen today, either. Just a pair of fitted, faded denims, work boots, a wool peacoat, and a t-shirt that reads "I'M NOT BITTER, I'M UNSWEETENED."

Heidi and Jack might not be particularly close, but the concern in her voice when she called was so palpable that he could almost smell it. Always cautious to the point of paranoia, he didn't answer any of her rings after the first, opting instead to rush over directly. Now he punches in the code to the alarm he helped install during Nathan's run for Senator and unlocks the front door with his spare key.

"Mrs. Petrelli?" he calls out cautiously as he steps into the foyer.

Detox? Thankfully, perhaps, that's another thing Heidi doesn't know about. It seems like that happens more and more these days - or maybe she's just currently paranoid about the dozens of things beyond her control. She's not usually this bad, but when your husband is missing, and you get a phone call that's not a phone call, and the FBI is watching your house, that would drive anyone to worry a little.

She's just leaning back on the couch, thinking about attempting to call again, when she hears the door open. It could be one of the workers, so she doesn't panic, but she does stand. She, too, is dressed down today, with jeans and a sweatshirt because they're comfortable. Besides, she'll be home all day today, waiting for word. The voice is one she's heard before, and, relaxing, she heads for the door. "Jack," she says, relief evident in her voice. That he just walked in isn't a surprise. He has before, after all.

As she sees him, the look of relief disappears, replaced with concern - or confusion. This isn't how he looked last time she saw him. "…I hope you've been well?"

"Life has been… interesting. I did get engaged," Jack answers evenly. He clasps his hands together behind his back in a loose imitation of the military at-ease posture. Unfortunately, he seems anything but at ease. His forehead is creased and his mouth is pinched with concern. He rolls his broad shoulders and expels a heavy breath. "Talk to me. What's going on?" he asks as he steps through the door separating foyer and sitting room. His wary gray eyes are on constant alert, darting to and fro in an unobtrusive search.

At least that's something to smile about, and the severe expression on the woman's face does dissipate slightly. Maybe there's a hint of a smile there, but no 'congratulations' is offered. It seems out of place, given the situation… But life goes on, it happens no matter what, and there's comfort in knowing that won't ever change.

"Nathan's missing," is the quiet answer. She nods toward his den… it's private, and they can talk in there without being listened in on. After all, she has no reason to believe that the 'FBI' would have bugged anything other than her phone. Have they?

Once there, Heidi heads over to the window and looks out. Hard to believe that just a couple days ago, she and Nathan were taking down Christmas lights and having a nice conversation. "He went to a doctor's appointment. Didn't come home that night and called the next day from Washington. Only I'm starting to think I — Well, I know it wasn't him."

Jack's brow furrows darkly as he paces around the room and waits for clues to magically appear. He's the police equivalent of a SWAT member rather than a detective, which leaves his investigative skills sorely lacking. He looks up from shuffling through a stack of paperwork that's too outdated to contain any useful information. "Wait… Wasn't him? What do you mean, like someone was impersonating him?"

The comforting thing is that she can tell Jack what she couldn't tell the FBI guys directly. It's hard to explain it in words; she wouldn't use 'hallucination' or 'hologram' or anything of that nature, because it still feels real in her mind. "I don't… I don't think I even really took a call," she says. "I know I did. I had the phone in my hand, but it wasn't. Someone wanted me to think everything was okay, but the call… He was like a robot. That's what it sounded like. I don't know how they did it." Heidi pauses. "I don't even know who 'They' are."

The more they talk, the less pleased Jack appears to be. He pushes aside the paperwork and picks up the desk phone in the den to check the last number that was dialed. "Slow down," he says, his thumb hovering over the redial button. "Are you saying you're not sure it actually happened? Like an illusion or a trick or something?" Because as a stage magician, trickery and deception are languages he speaks fluidly.

There's another option to consider, as well. "Or like a hallucination? And who are 'they?' Feds? Company?"

It wasn't an illusion. That she's sure about, because she knows that at one point, she was both holding the phone and saw it hanging up, and then it was gone - while she was watching it. No illusion could have done that. No illusion could have imitated Nathan's voice. "I'm sure someone was making me think I was talking to Nathan. Like - yes - a hallucination. I called the police after that…" To Jack's guesses, Heidi can only shake her head. She doesn't know who it was who called, but Jack won't find the number in the phone. Heidi was so rattled, she didn't even think to check to see if it was Nathan's number that was dialed. All the area codes are local, as well - there's been no call placed from D.C. "He said he was going to see Mohinder Suresh before he left. I found where the doctor's lab was, so I went there. It was just destroyed, Jack."

It's starting to look like she's getting teary, but Heidi doesn't cry. "Everything was broken, there was blood on the floor. Someone took him from there." And…? "And that's all I know. The FBI was already there. I couldn't look around."

Destroyed. Broken. Blood. FBI.

These are words that push Jack over the edge of concerned friend and into the realm of angry, vengeful friend. Now his absent clue-searching comes to an abrupt halt and he rounds on Heidi as a far, far better source of answers. It takes a few seconds before he can collect himself and speak in a calm, analytical fashion, but he manages. "I know Suresh. I'll see about having a look around what's left of the lab if you'll write down the address for me. Now what's this about FBI? What did they have to say?"

What! Why is he mad at her!? At least, that's what it looks like at first, but it makes more sense for Jack to be righteously angry at whoever took Nathan. Heidi's just been worried. Scared. She called Jack for a good reason. Nodding at the simple request, Heidi heads to the desk and looks through the pile of papers she left there with information she's managed to find within the past few days. it's not much, but she does have a printout of Mapquest directions to Mohinder's lab. "Here, if you want to go. They didn't have a whole lot to say. There was an Agent Brownstone… He was this guy with thick glasses. Said he knows about supernatural things, but I didn't really feel comfortable telling him… About… Things." Just in case.

"He said he'd have someone monitor the phones. They have been for a couple days, but I haven't gotten any calls. There's a couple agents on the grounds, too."

"Thought I saw some suits on the way in," Jack mutters as he tucks the directions into one of his coat pockets. "You did good not to talk about this on the phone. If they're FBI, I'm a Chinese whore. Something smells wrong about this, and I don't like it. I'll sniff around."

The firearm that Jack produces is a dainty, ladylike revolver with an enclosed hammer and a polished steel finish. He reverses it and extends it toward Heidi handle-first. "You ever used one of these?"

Jack's words are met with wide blue eyes. "But they were— " She starts, but she didn't request any identification or anything. Heidi just assumed that they were FBI. There was absolutely no reason not to. Now that she's thinking about it in more detail, though, they were so quiet. Agent Brownstone wouldn't even talk to any of the others there while Heidi was around.

Before Jack can finish his sentence, Heidi cuts him off on the word 'These' with "Oh my god." And the look she gives him means she thinks he's crazy. "My father has… I've never…" Resolving, because she figured something was wrong about this situation, too, she says, "Turn off the safety and shoot, right?"

Jack nods encouragingly. "Just flick the little switch next to the trigger. Keep it in your purse or something. And for God's sake, don't let the kids go anywhere but school for a few days?" He half-smiles and gives Heidi's shoulder a pat to soften the harshness of his implications. "If we're lucky, we'll find out you had a bad bite of sushi or something. If it's anything else, I'll do my best to figure it out. Promise."

Had she really expected anything other than the fact that her tiredness might have been the cause of things, she would have brought it up. After sleeping, though, the situation with the phone became even foggier, stranger, and yet the events out of the ordinary became clearer, in a way. She was fine. She is fine. Still, she hopes that this isn't as serious as she thinks it is. Intuition tells her it is, though. "The kids will stay at home. Don't worry about that. Can you tell me anything? You're worried. You said the people at the house aren't FBI."

"Maybe. Look… I've uh heard of people doing this before. With kidnappings." Jack shifts uncomfortably and clasps his hands behind his back again, straining the shoulder seams of his shirt in the process. "People don't question cops, and they question agents even less. You said one of 'em was calling himself Brownstone, right? I have a contact in the Agency. I'll try and find out of the FBI has a Brownstone working in the city. If not, we know they're bogus."

"Kidnappings," Heidi says dryly. She looks at the firearm in her hand, which she doesn't necessarily want, nor does she believe it's safe to have it with kids in the house, but if Nathan was taken and the rest of her family could be in danger, she'll take the chance. "Or they drive up to you in a parking lot and throw you into a van." She's… had her own brush with things like kidnappings, unfortunately, and it was severely traumatising. She can't imagine Nathan is worse off. After all, he saved her. He must be okay. Perfectly fine, even. Yeah, this will work out. Heidi's sure of it! "Brownstone. He just… knew what he was talking about I thought. I didn't even think …" That thought trails off, and she goes in another direction. "He was so helpful."

And she can't think anything less of Noah, because he was nothing but helpful. Even let her into the crime scene.

"We're always helpful," Jack agrees, his voice tinged with self-depricating sarcasm. "Just remember, even ID badges are easy to come by if you know people and have money. I have fake credentials for three domestic agencies and more foreign ones than I can shake my stick at."

He reaches out very casually, lays two fingertips on the barrel of the revolver, and pushes gently until it's pointed at the floor. "Don't worry, we'll get him back," he promises.

So did she not talk to the FBI? Obviously confused, Heidi opts to not ask too many questions. She called Jack because she couldn't handle this, and there was that little feeling that something was wrong besides. If her suspicions are confirmed, shouldn't she feel better about calling in someone she trusts?

Hard to do when your husband is missing.

Ah, right. Her father did mention something about making sure guns were pointed away from people. "Is there anything I can do?" she asks. "And can you tell me what's going on if you find anything?"

It's only after she asks that that she realises what Jack just said. Beyond the 'shaking his stick at anything, which is an unfortunately disturbing mental image, she's suddenly wondering who she can trust, if these things are so easy to fake. Maybe the look she gives him is a little disapproving, but even so… "Just do what you have to."

Jack cups a hand against Heidi's shoulder and gives her a reassuring squeeze. Despite the motions, he chews nervously at his bottom lip and a new frown creases his prematurely wrinkled forehead. "I don't even know what I can do yet," he admits. "Except keep you and the kids safe if there's something to worry about. I'll call you if I find anything out. Promise."

Then, as if unnerved by the contact, he pulls away and gives an involuntary shiver. A quick rummage in his inside pocket reveals the pill bottle he's stashed there. Vicodin. He shakes a few directly into his mouth and swallows them dry.

They'll just have to see what can be done. It's important to exhaust all possible resources; she might tell some of those on Nathan's staff that she trusts, like George if she can catch up with him, and while she didn't want to worry Peter at first - in case she was wrong - she really needs to make sure that he knows.

As she thought about previously, the kids will probably think this is cool somehow. Even if their lives are in danger. They understand a lot more than people give them credit for - something of which Heidi is accutely aware - but they're still kids, and they have huge imaginations. Maybe Heidi will make a tent out of blankets in their room tonight, and tell them what's going on - in terms they can understand. She doesn't like lying, even if it's easier.

Medication.

She narrows her eyes, considers. He doesn't look okay, she can see that, and could right when she walked in. "Come on to the kitchen for awhile. Sit down."

"Sure, hon. I could use a rest before I start pounding pavement." Having worked security for Nathan in the past, Jack is familiar with the layout of the house. He stretches to his full height with a crackling protest from muscles, joints, and sinews, then shoves off and pads through to the kitchen.

"Cup o' coffee?" He queries as he bustles shamelessly through cabinets and starts laying out a snack for two. The transition from guest to host is seamless, and he's clearly made himself comfortable here before. It only takes him a moment to assemble a bit of fresh fruit, some juice, and a plate of sliced meats and cheeses.

He looks like he could use a little rest. That's Heidi's first thought as she bites her lip, hesitates, and follows after.

Even if she's never talked with Jack extensively, she knows he's been around here before, and it's unsurprising that he can figure his way around a kitchen. Still, she's tempted to help, but even as the thought crosses her mind, she sinks into the nearest chair and rests her head on her hands, face toward the table. "Sure," comes the answer.

"What if something happened to him?" she remarks. It's mostly just to herself. "What would I tell the boys? I don't even really know how to deal with this — there was blood on the floor. What if it was Nathan's?"

Enough coffee for several generous helpings goes on, followed by Jack carrying what already prepared to the table. The thought of losing his best friend is likely as appealing to him as losing a husband is to Heidi. He chooses his words carefully.

"Don't even think that," he replies quietly, though the question may be rhetorical. "Whatever happened, he knows how to handle himself. Wherever he is, we'll find him." Again, he reaches out to comfort her, but this time he withdraws before he makes contact.

The food goes untouched. As fresh and delicious as it may be, it'll do nothing to quench the brand of hunger that he feels. Absently, he fingers the bottle of Vicodin through the fabric of his coat.

Her head is still down on the table. The food smells good, but her stomach is twisting and painful. While Heidi doesn't like to consider things before they actually come to be, she's already trying to figure out how she'd get by raising two kids on her own. She almost left him before, sure, but the prospect of him being taken… Eventually, she does sit up, blankly staring at the prepared food before she grabs a couple crackers and some cheese.

"I don't want to consider the worst," she says. "It just seemed like an entirely different tier of danger opened up when he told me he could fly." Well, he didn't tell her technically. "And…" she starts to add, quiets for a moment, then decides to tell him anyway. "Nathan… Awhile ago, he did something, and I almost left him, but I couldn't. He means a lot to me, to the family. I didn't take that for granted… I didn't. But now I wish I would have gone with him when he left a couple days ago. I owed him that much."

"Shhh. Shhhh," Jack murmurs. "You didn't know. You couldn't." Completely bypassed is the topic of divorces, indiscretions, and et cetera. Instead he pushes back from the table and goes back to his cupboard-diving for a couple of mugs. When rich, dark, lifegiving coffee has been poured, he tops both of them off with a hefty dose of Irish cream. Because when you're upset, liquor and coffee is good for you.

He sits back down and sets a cup in front of Heidi. "I'm more worried about these 'agents' you mentioned," he mutters. "They could be legit, but if they aren't…" the implication is left to hang ponderously.

It's just that the world is supposed to be more good than bad. She always felt that way, that even if things went really bad - and Heidi knows what really bad is - something could be okay, with any situation, if you just look for it. Broken back? Been there. At least she gets to sit all the time. Kidnapped? Done that. As a result, she's more physically fit thanks to training. Affair? Yep. Helps a woman realise how much they really love their husband.

Husband missing? Kidnapped, possibly dead?

She can't think of anything to soften the shock.

Taking a deep breath (and a pull at her coffee) she meets Jack's eyes. "I feel like they were genuinely trying to help." A smile appears, even if it doesn't reach her eyes. "I just can't imagine everyone ever is bad."

Jack shakes his head wearily. "They aren't all bad. Just… lots of them." Welcome to the pessimistic world view of a man who's seen how little life can be worth. In some countries the exchange rate is phenomenally low.

A long moment passes while the Irishman stares into his coffee cup. Then, abruptly, he picks it up and drains off half the contents like a draft of medicine. Alcohol and caffeine work fast, but not this fast. The relaxing of his muscles is preemptive, a response in anticipation of the relief to come.

"Is there anything you need around here?" he asks, his voice already steadier. "I can drive you if you need to go out, and I'm sure Trina wouldn't mind staying with the kids."

Her initial response is just to shake her head. If so many people in the world are bad, then there wouldn't be any world left, really. The bad people just get more attention. As of late, it seems like these folks have surrounded her life. She's not naive enough to think this is just a minor setback. More and more, Heidi's learning that this is her life. Still, it must have to get better some day, even if it's just moments of awesome between long strings of — well. Stuff like this.

The smile returns as Jack attacks his coffee. That had to have hurt. "No, Jack. Thank you for coming over. I'll save this for the kids when they get home," Heidi says, indicating the snacks he made up. "They'll really appreciate it. Just make sure to call…" There's a pad of paper on the table, and picking it up, she writes her cell number down. She didn't give that to the agents, and even if she doesn't know if they've found a way to listen in on it, she didn't hallucinate while talking into her cell phone, after all.

Jack's unfinished coffee is left on the table, and he hasn't even touched the food. He nods, pushes back from the table, and slips the number into his pocket. "I'll call you as soon as I know something," he promises again. "Take care of yourself. Keep the boys close… and keep that piece closer."

And then without further ado, he's gone. Poof.

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