2008-03-29: Ten Minutes Lost, Four Years Gained


FuturePeter_icon.gif Sierra_icon.gif

Summary: A reporter gets a mission from the future.

Date It Happened: March 29th, 2008

Ten Minutes Lost, Four Years Gained


It's a quiet night in New York City…or as quiet as a night can get, anyway. Most people are home now, inside spending time with family or working on final essays for school or reports for work. In Queens, Sierra LeBlanc makes her own way home. She had spent the whole day in her cubical, sorting through backdated files which she didn't have a chance to work on today, despite the fact that it was supposed to be her day off. As she turns off a main road on to a smaller one, supposedly the one her home is on. It's quiet here. No one else can be seen walking down the street.

Seen being the keyword, here. Able to see the unseen, Peter can rest assured that there are no other invisible people in the street either, but that doesn't mean he hasn't been following a bit behind her much of the way. Quick stride, quiet steps, all makes it difficult for anyone to notice him, especially with being invisible. That doesn't mean he will keep doing it. A shift in his form brings him into visibility, once they've turned down the smaller street. "Sierra LeBlanc?" he asks, once he's fully in sight. Voice deepier and huskier than the meeting they had in Battery Park, it still sounds similar. Even in the dark he looks much the same, except for distinct shadows cast across his face that hadn't been there before. Specifically a depression in the form of a slashed scar right across his face.

Sierra certainly didn't think that anyone was following her, especially not for a little while now. She pauses for a moment in front of a duplex, opening up the purse that she carries along with her. She scavenges inside of it for a few moment, "Mon dieu! Where did I put those keys?" She mutters to herself. A lock of hair falls in front of her eyes, and as she goes to wipe it out of her sight, there's a voice calling her name…so familiar, that voice. She knows it…the person knows her. Her head turns, body following suite. "Oui?" She enquires, green eyes locking on the man. It's sort of hard to see him in the shadows, but she tries to make him out. "Do I…know you?" She asks slowly, before it starts to slowly kick in, her memory coming back of that night in Battery Park. "Ah! You're…you're…Senator Petrelli's brother! Peter, oui?"

"Oui," Peter responds, a hint of a similar accent sneaking into his voice before he catches himself. The problem with omnilinguistics… makes it difficult to hold onto one language sometimes. "Peter, right. We met a few— earlier this year, ran into each other." Almost literally. With some amusing consquences for himself at the same time. For him, that'd been much longer ago, though. So much has happened. It makes him look different, but that doesn't mean he's unrecognizable. "I actually… have a story for you. It's not about me, but it is something important."

Sierra smiles a little. "Ah, you know French? Ce magnifique!" She chuckles a little bit. "We did indeed meet not too long ago. Quit the…well, it was a bit of a different meeting than I usually have with people, I must admit." She giggles. "You make a good imitation of your mother, if I remember correctly." She says with a little grin. As she studies him a little more, she frowns. "Is that…at scar on your face? Oh my goodness! How did that happen?!" She shakes her head. "A story? Umm…do you want to come in to my place, have a cup of coffee or something?" She motions to the duplex right next to them, the place she stopped in front of. "I live here."

"The scar isn't important," Peter says, closing his eyes for a moment. As she looks at him, the scar fills in, becoming closer to the person she met in Battery Park. Some small differences. It's her ability, though, and he's abusing it to cover up the scar. In retrospect, he should have done that originally. Maybe she'll think it was a fake scar to keep from being recognized? She only saw him a month and a half ago, but the scar looks much too old and healed for that limited time-frame. Time travel makes things very complicated. "I can't stay long," he admits, but he does step as if to move into the house, reaching into his coat. "I'm just here to drop off some paper work, point you in the right direction. I promise there's a story there. Something no one else will find for quite some time. An exclusive."

Sierra frowns and shakes her head, but makes no mention of the scar otherwise. She doesn't want to intrude. Patting down her jacket, she finds her keys there. She moves up the steps and opens up her door, holding it open to allow Peter in first. "You can stay as long as you want, Monsieur." She tells him once they're inside. "If this…story is as exclusive as you say it is, why bring it to me? I just work at a small time paper." Not that she isn't flattered. She is. Glad that he thought of her.

Stepping into the duplex, Peter moves a few steps into the home, before turning to watch her. The scar remains gone, even as they're inside. "There's a few reasons why you're the best possible person for this." There's a hesitant look on his face for an instant, before his jaw tightens and he continues, "Your ability, for one. You can disguise yourself far more effectively than most people could manage. This will help protect you while you… investigate." Investigative journalism always comes with risks, depending on what's being investigated. "Also as someone with a unique ability, you understand what might happen if… certain things come out. You'll edit your story to keep certain things safe, while leaving in enough incriminating revelations to bring the people responsible into the public's eye."

Sierra takes off her coat and hangs on the coat while listening to peter talk, inform her of why he thinks she's the best. "Of course, investigative journalism, depending on the subject, has it's dangers. Just as you say, but…why couldn't you just tell the world about whatever this is yourself? You are the brother of a Senator. You could call a press conference, be live on television and inform the world. Certainly that would be better, non? I mean…oui, I can use my ability to find things out much more easy because of my ability…but if you already know about this…why do you need me?"

"You know how my mental state is viewed by the media," Peter responds quietly, realizing that one press conference over a year ago pretty much killed his public credability. And that isn't the only reason… "A lot of what I could tell them hasn't happened yet. I realize this doesn't help the appearance of mental stability, but I'm not exactly the man you met in Battery Park. When I told you that you weren't alone… there are a lot of abilities out there. As varied as skin tone, eye color, hair color, the combination of all. One of those abilities allows…" He pauses. She's a journalist. She may need evidence. "Do you have a cellphone?" Of course she does, but he's still asking.

How can she not know how his mental state is viewed by the media? Sierra wasn't at the press conference regarding it by his brother, she was still in Canada at that point, but she heard well enough. "Oui. I know you aren't seen in the best light, exactly but…" She shakes her head. "I see your point." She says with a nod. "What do you mean it hasn't happened yet? How can you know about it if it hasn't happened yet?" She furrows her brow. "And what do you mean you're not 'exactly' the man I met in the park?" She sighs. So confusing! "I know…I believed when you told me about there being others with other kinds of abilities. I've met some with different abilities." She says. She gives a nod in response to the question. "Oui, I do have a cellphone." She says, taking it out of her purse.

"Thank you," Peter says, making the time display visible. This should prove his point well enough. Setting it down on a table nearby, he quotes the exact time, then continues, "Cellphone clocks are controlled by the network you're on, normally. That's why I want to use yours— I could have rigged mine, but yours…" That's slightly more difficult. With it set down, he walks back over to her and puts a hand on her shoulder, closing his eyes.

There's a small lapse in time, for them, a shifting. They're still standing exactly where they were, nothing about the room has changed at all, but when he opens his eyes, he nods his head toward the phone, "Go look at the time."

It's jumped ten whole minutes.

Sierra watches Peter curiously, nodding as he puts it on the table. "Oui…that is true but, why would you have rigged yours?" Though she has a feeling she's going to find out soon. When the time shift has happened and she goes to look at the phone, she looks quite confused, and then looks back at Peter. "What…just happened?"

"We went ten minutes into the future," Peter explains, voice serious and deep. The raspy tone is back as he keeps a distance from her. "There's a reason a lot of the things I could tell you— and everyone— haven't happened yet. I'm from four years into the future." Well aware of how that sounds, he still opens up his coat and pulls out a small folder. "I can't give you full details, I can only point you in the right directions, and give you rock hard assurances that what you're investigating is very important, possibly even earth shattering. And that what you see on the surface, isn't always what there is under it. You'll have to dig deep, and you'll have to be very careful. These are powerful people you're going to be exposing."

Sierra blinks, silent for a few moments. "I…we…huh." She seems lost for words, which almost never happens for her. She thinks back to those she's met: Turning into water, healing, and possibly one or two others. Sure. Why not. Time Travel. "Four years into the future, hmm? Okay. I'll buy it. And where am I in this future? Do we know each other better then? Am I working for a bigger paper like the New York Times? Am I married? Are there kids?" Oh, she's got questions alright. Even more than she's just mentioned. She accepts the folder and looks down at it. "Okay…I'm investigating high ups. Powerful people who can do a lot of damage. So who are they? The US Government? The CIA? FBI? CSIS?!" Trust a Canadian journalist to be worried about the Canadian Intelligence agency.

"That's a lot of questions, and I can't exactly answer then," Peter says, watching her for a long moment as she takes the folder. There's only a handful of things in there to start with. A list of addresses, locations of labratories and a main building, and a business card on top. Pinehearst. "I can say that we'te better acquaintances in the future, but the other questions might be a bit too personal in nature. Your future is yours, and I'm changing things, so inevitably, your future will change as well." So any answers he gives, would be false, eventually. Or maybe he hopes. "You're investigating a biotech firm. They do have ties to the government, as well as employees connected to the government. Since you follow my family— you might recognize the company. My brother's one of it's biggest supporters."

Sierra slowly nods while ruffling through the papers. She takes the card out and looks at it, while looking back at Peter. "Well, I am glad that we at least got to become a bit more acquainted." She says with a little smile and a nod before looking back down at the card. "Pinehearst. I've only heard of them in passing. They deal in…experimental pharmaceutical drugs and the like, non? I do not really know anything other than that. I don't know their CEO or anything like that but…actually, I may know someone who might actually be able to help me! And he works for your brother too. I think I can trust him."

"Experimental drugs and humanitarian activities are what it wants to be known for, but I can assure you there's more to it than that. I just can't tell you exactly where to look," Peter explains softly, but does not appear overly surprised when she mentions knowing someone who knows her brother. Either he already knew this, suspected it, or just fails to be surprised by anything these days. "You have to be extremely careful when you investigate this, and if your friend can help, then that's great. Trust who you think you can trust. I'm also going to give your number to someone. On the event that I go back to the future, they'll contact you so you can continue your work and have someone who knows about it to talk to." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out another card, with just a number printed in black. "This is my number. You can leave me a message. As long as I'm still here, I'll do my best to answer it."

Sierra takes a deep breath in and sighs, thinking about it all. "If I could get an audio file and picture of someone that works there, I can definitely sneak in that way. But it will be dangerous. I know it will. If there not as clean as you are hinting at, cherie." She takes a seat at the table and puts the Pinehearst card back in the file. "I'll give mon confidant a little talk, see how he can help me." She closes her eyes. "This is all so much! The future…dangerous peoples. Dangerous companies! This is all so much!" She shakes her head. "I can hardly believe this all." She looks up at Peter and accepts the number. "I…I will. I'll let you know if I need help or anything." She pauses for a moment, adding the card with his number to the file. "Who is this person you're leaving my number with?"

"A close friend of mine," Peter explains, watching her through her mini-breakdown. Such a thing is very common with his side of the story. Asking a lot of someone who barely knows him, has little reason to trust him. There's only so much he can ever reveal, with how cryptic everything is. "So you know it's a friend of mine, they'll mention where we first met, and assure you that they're not from the CSIS." Since she put such imphasis on it, that it made him think of them for a code. He even almost smiles. Very faintly. Just the smallest tug on one corner of his mouth.

Sierra looks up at Peter. "You couldn't just tell me who this…this…petit ami could be, could you? Hmm?" She shakes her head. "Non…I know the need for secrecy. I am a journaliste. Les journalistes doivent garder des secrets toute l'heure." Loose translation? Journalists know the importance of secrets. She lets out a soft chuckle. "I'll trust you."

"Thank you," Peter says, though there's a guarded look as she speaks on secrets, and wanting to know things, like simple names. There's reasons he's not giving names to people, because there are secrets that need to be guarded. Some secrets are important. And this one may protect both her, and his other friend, in case something bad happens to one of them. "I'll see myself out. Sorry about costing you ten minutes," he adds on, before closing his eyes. There's that shift again, but this time it's just him, vanishing from the duplex.

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