2007-07-28: DF: Two Years From Yesterday


DFJane_icon.gif DFPeter_icon.gif DFPortia_icon.gif

Guest Starring:


Summary: While staying in the Zoo, Peter meets up with Jane and Portia and learns a little… and then hears his brother making a speech on the radio.

Dark Future Date: July 28th, 2009

Two Years From Yesterday

Bronx Zoo

Walking with Portia, after Ali peeled off and abandoned the cloak of invisibility the sixteen year old has up, Jane aproaches the zoo entrance. She's fairly quiet, and stormy of mood, with some manner of dirt on her clothing from what they'd been up to earlier. Perhaps shockingly she isn't carrying the guitar case or the backpack. Whatever was at hand gave her the desire to travel light, apparently. "Thank you," she comments quietly after a time, "woman." The word spoken with a touch of emphasis, perhaps to underscore the status she believes life has bestowed on Portia too early. A recognition.

She's a bit leaner than she was two years before, more gaunt in the face, and her eyes hold a haunted quality, mixing with sadness and anger of a sort Mr. Petrelli would only have seen when he and Nathan came across her in the East Village just days after the Cold Turkey experience when she believed she was an addict.

The teenager can definitely be called more of a woman now. Portia, taller and more slender, has added the usual rebellous teen's hair-coloring. Blue tips at the bottom of her hair. As she keeps ahold of Jane for the mantle of invisibility to remain, her expression is somber. "Don't mention it. I do what little I can." The girl's gaze goes out about the zoo as they approach. She's silent, simply because there's nothing to say. A simple 'how are you' doesn't quite fit here.

Among the people in the Zoo, there's one person who stands out doing some of the manual labor chores. A familiar face— cleaner cut, better shaved, with less hollow darkness in his eyes, Peter Petrelli's taken up the job of filling up watering holes for the animals. Holding a hose, he's currently at one of the open troughs for the animals on guard. There's a young boy of ten following him around everywhere, but he's doing his best to ignore it— at least he hasn't started asking all kinds of questions he can't answer.

She pauses at the entrance with Portia, and even though invisible the animal guardians can detect them. They smell something is different there. Jane lets the security crew do what they do, letting go of Portia's hand so she emerges from the cloak of Being Not Seen. Her eyes move across the tigers, the snakes, and the nearby pigs on duty now. When they seem to recognize and accept her, she steps forward and makes her way fully into the compound. No words are used.

There's a few off duty guard pigs that keep a close eye on him that move over for something to drink. One of them nudges his leg rather hard. The boy watching him will get to see Peter fall right into water trough he's just filled up. There's a loud yelp, and he's soaked up to his waist in cold water. "Son of a bitch." He yelps, pulling himself out of the water. The boy actually giggles a little, before looking away. He totally didn't see someone he wants to hero worship fall into water. Freezing.

The splash catches Jane's attention, followed by the familiar voice. Her eyes snap to the area it came from, and she begins walking that way at a decent pace. "Good to see you," she begins. The voice is somber, as it usually is in these times. "What brings you here, to… fall into the water?" An eyebrow raises, curiosity exists, but there's not the slightest trace of humor. She hasn't yet realized this version doesn't look anything like people living in this time do.

Falling into the water does not amuse her, even if it /is/ Peter. Little amuses Portia these days. Arms are still across her chest, silently following after Jane before the teen just looks off into the distance. No, she's not aware of Peter being different. Not at all.

"We interrupt your scheduled programming for this broadcast live from the White House."

"When I think back to the war that tore apart New York City, my home as well as the home of countless citizens, I no longer feel anger towards those that caused it. I only feel sadness for those that were driven to strike out as they did. Because it is out of misunderstanding and intolerance that their hand was forced, and as President of the United States, it is my duty to this country to ensure that this will never happen again."

"During my campaign, I made a decision to be honest with America. That I wouldn't hide what I was to the people I intended to lead. I announced that I had the ability to fly. I believe that my subsequent election was a message from America - that the Evolved wanted a leader. They wanted hope. They wanted to believe that good could come from people like them. It is with this message in my heart that such recent decisions have been made, and I believe that only the unpatriotic, that only the hateful, could possibly stand in my way."

"I didn't do it on purpose," Peter mutters, looking down at his drenched jeans until he glances towards the two women. One of the people calls out from deeper in the Zoo, "Petrelli is on the radio!" and the volume is turned up enough that they can hear what's being broadcast. Though the young Petrelli looks at both the women with a hint of shock, he recognizes them… but doesn't at the same time… "Jane? and… …Portia?" He's less sure on the second one. But then he's in shock for another reason. The voice of his brother over the radio. And he just stares. Forgetting about the fact he's soaked.

"A good leader has an obligation to protect his people, as well as an obligation to better them. To the Humans of America, I speak to you now: cooperation is its own reward, and to rebel against the laws of our country is to rebel against the freedom such laws preserve. I am a father and a husband, and I would protect this country as I would protect my own family. Rebellion will not be tolerated."

"I ask that all of us, Evolved and Human, remember the values of America and America's people in the wake of disaster. We are a country of progress, of forward movement. We are a country that recognises it's own strength. We are a country of evolution. Thank you."

We now return to your schedule program.

As the audio feed from the White House fades, a ruckus can be heard. A panic if you will, as people scream, furniture and equipment are knocked over.

What occurs as the voice of Nathan speaks may shock Peter even more. This darker version of M. Jane Forrest, already grim, shifts into scowling. Her face seems as if it may split. Fists clench at her sides, the knuckles turn white, and there's evidence of a scream building for the second time tonight. She remains silent, however, and the absence of destructive impact suggests she bit back the sonic blast. Eventually her mouth closes and she listens to the entirety of his address. The eyes take on a new level of powerful emotion, almost like murderous rage. "Freedom," she spits. "Hateful. Unpatriotic! My ass! Rebellion won't be tolerated, please. This country was founded on rebellion, and a man who throws out the constitution, who has people put into concentration camps, dares to criticize anyone who opposes him!"

This is the woman who was extremely loyal to Nathan after the raid trying to break out the younger Petrelli, he having taken the time to find and help her at a very dark time, and now she's done a 180?

Staring off into the distance, Portia just shakes her head. "What does it matter anyways? He'll get us all eventually." Her arms remain over her chest, and she stares at the ground for a long time.

The things said over the radio baffle Peter, but the things said before him worry him as well. Shaken faith to the point of anger— it's true the first time he met the woman she'd been angry, but this… The broadcast is shut off when a few people start laughing at the sound of a ruckus, someone even commenting that they hope it's the attack that finally does him in, before they turn it down for later. They'll keep listening, though, in case there's an emergency broadcast announcement that a few here would probably love to hear. Most are just trying to go about their business. They wish to stay safe… The young man, though, approaches them, soaked as he is. "What happened to make things this bad?" The Peter they know should very well be aware of this, this one looks confused, and hurt, but still hopeful and kind… a difference from the older cold version that walks around.

"Who are you?" she demands, her eyes settling on him. "You look like Peter from two years ago. Are you someone making illusions, playing mind games?" Jane's gaze bores into him intently. "If this is a game, a joke, drop it. Now. Pretending not to know about the war, when most of us got outed and had to fight for our lives against the masses of humanity. And… that man in the White House turning Nazi…" She, it seems, refuses to speak the President's name. Perhaps the vitriol comes from believing, and seeing how wrong she was, that someone she trusted so well would do such things.

"It's not a— Jane— I look like Peter from two years ago because I am Peter from two years ago," Peter says, fully aware how crazy this whole thing sounds. It's not the easiest thing for him to admit either, however… "You know what Hiro can do— and you know I've met him. It's not that hard to believe— Two days ago we were still trying to figure out the tornado, and everything that will happen, and to you that's two years ago. But to me it's not. I have to figure out what happened so I can go back and fix it— that can not be my brother. He wouldn't say those things." Would he?

Silent for a moment, Portia studies Peter for a long time. She looks kind of numb. "The tornado.. my.. mother said that." Her she grips her arms a little tighter.

She stares at him for a good stretch longer, absorbing what he said, the truth of it sinking into her mind bit by bit. But she also realizes it could be a trick, she's had illusions thrown at her before. The moving notes. And so a two part test is arrived at. "Tell me what illusions I once called you about, and show me where I was shot." Jane seems calmer now, but it's clear another effect of all that's happened is the reluctance to trust. "Tornadoes happened. Then a war started. Most of us got outed, and had to fight for our lives. My own bandmates tried to hang me." She doesn't say anything else about that, but, well, she's still here so one can guess the outcome. "After we were exposed, it was also reported some of us had the marks. They made us targets. A lot of us did more than just defend ourselves. They went on the attack." This statement causes her eyes to flash with that intensity, showing her disagreement with that stance. "We were trying to wipe each other out. Now the fighting is mostly over, and people without powers are being rounded up."

"You saw dancing notes," Peter answers the first part, and actually has to think about the second one for a moment, because he doesn't remember exactly. "I think it was your right leg…" Though it may have been her left. "I took you flying for the first time that day." That's an additional bit she didn't ask for, so he'll hope she accepts the fact he's not totally sure which of her legs he healed. He's disturbed, but he nods towards Portia, "Yeah— your mother. I decided to try to come here when I heard about one of her visions… Two years from today, I was told— and here I am… two years from yesterday." Yesterday it was two years from today, now it's yesterday. "…Did you ever find out who caused the tornados? Was it an accident or deliberate?"

She's calming a bit more now, evidence she's accepted his answers. "Welcome to Hell, Pete." And Jane draws a deep breath. "I've been told, by someone I saw again today, that Sylar did at least some of it. He killed the sister of Claudine Salonga, a Company agent, and took her power to affect winds. Is it true? I don't know. But I was out with Ali when she was broadcasting earlier. She warned people away from Times Square by pirate radio, there was a Homeland Security raid, some woman was dragged out of a building by her hair. And I think Miss Salonga stopped the arrests. The earth moved, wrecked their vehicles. She can do that, so it could've been her. It fits her claim to be away from the Company now and trying to help people."

"Two years ago." Portia shivers at the idea. She remembers perfectly how Desiree mentioned the storm. She can't ever forget that. "You're trying to stop it all?"

Welcome to Hell. Apt description. Peter glances around at the transformed Zoo, with the refugees and the wild animals protecting them, and then he can't help but shiver slightly. And not just because his pants are soaked. He's going to need to find a change of clothes. He really wishes he would have packed for this trip more… "Yeah… Agent Salonga. I remember her. I'll have to find out when he killed her sister— maybe I can stop that from happening too…" The last time he thought for sure Sylar was the one to cause the desctruction of New York, he'd been wrong, almost costing his brother's life. So he won't dismiss other possibilities… "Yeah— I'm going to find out everything I can and then go back." There's a pause. He has something more to say, but he closes his mouth. The less people know Hiro's here too, the better.

"The last time I saw Agent Salonga, before today," Jane states, "was early in May, at Times Square. The earth shook, and a small tornado happened. She was there with her sister, just like she was before that at Battery Park, where a boy got blown into the water by a freak wind." One hand runs through her hair and she glances over at Portia, perhaps finally registering what she'd said. "We've talked about the painting of tornados doing damage, and her mother saw something too?" That's possibly a new one on her. "I haven't seen Desiree in ages."

"I remember hearing about that, yeah," Peter says, frowning thoughtfully. What's become of this world is exactly the sort of thing the Company said they strove to stop— people finding out, powers running rampant. If they failed so miserably— if that was ever their mission at all— then no wonder an Agent who had been so loyal to them until they wiped his memory from Elle would turn against them. Or at least stop working for them. Maybe the Company doesn't even exist anymore… That's a question he'll try to have answered to. "I'm not sure how I'll do any of this, but— I stop this from happening… somehow." He'll change the future.

"My mother and I were shopping." Portia pauses for a moment. "Then she got this crazy idea that she needed to go to Cass' apartment. So we went. And she looked out the window. Said she saw a storm… tornados." Her gaze flickers to Jane for a long time. "That's because she's… gone."

Her mouth opens, she seems about to say something after Peter speaks, but Portia's talking, so she listens, and what she hears causes her to open and close her mouth a few times. "Gone?" Jane asks, as if not quite believing it. Or wanting to believe it. Nothing more is said, she simply opens her arms to hug the sixteen year old woman if she'll permit it. Through all of this, the anger, everything about it, there at least seems the ability to feel and show compassion.

Gone can mean many things. Peter frowns visibly, but there seems to be gears running through his head. Two years to fix… two years to change. All he needs to do is find out what needs changing and no one will have to look like this. Or at least not this badly. "I'm sorry to hear that…" Another thing to fix… "I need to go find some clothes and get changed. Daphne said I could stay here if I can't find any place else, so if you're here too, I'll probably be able to talk to you two again…"

The woman allows herself to be hugged, sinking into it a little. There's not much hugging that she's gotten over the last two years. "Yeah. She's gone." Portia murmurs, glancing back towards Peter. He'll fix it. She always believed he was something special back then, so maybe there was still a tiny glimmer of hope left.

She holds Portia to her, allowing herself to be used for drawing strength and comfort without complaint. "Stick around long enough, you'll come across the other Saints," Jane remarks, before starting to move away. "Maybe even meet yourself." Then she speaks quietly to Portia. "It's late. I've got room for you to sleep."

Saints? Peter won't ask the question— sometimes it's better not to know the answer. However, meeting himself makes him smile, faintly. "The space-time continuum might implode if I meet myself." It's half of a joke, a joke in a dark and deadly world. The tiny glimmer of hope sloshes away towards the barracks that he'd been assigned, with a ten year old boy following close behind.

Glancing after Peter, Portia looks back to Jane after a moment. "Alright. Thank you." She whispers. Just going to have to get used to it. Contact with people? It's still a little weird.

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