Heroes/Threshold: Choices (Molly, Claire; T; ~2,300w.)
Notes: 2007-11-30 and 2010-02-13. Originally for a request by 
mylia.
*
Molly, Claire; T; ~2,300w.
A report of a corpse walking out of a morgue leads them to Texas. "Claire Bennet," J.T. said, clicking the slide onto the big screen.
Choices
"Corpses don't just get up and walk away," the coroner said, a tremble underneath the declarative certainty of her words.
"You'd be surprised," Nigel said dryly.
Molly shot him a look and he didn't say anything else, but the coroner watched him curiously as he gathered evidence, and she eventually had to put her arms around the poor woman's shoulder, leading her out of the room with promises that they would get to the bottom of this mystery.
She felt like she was promising that a lot lately since she'd taken this job. She just hoped she wasn't lying, this time.
*
"A serious cranial puncture, yes, but if it weren't fatal I don't think it would have immobilized an infectee that long," Nigel said, flipping through the file, his glasses perched on top of his head.
"And she looks really dead on these tapes," Lucas said, turning around the laptop so Molly could see the freeze-frame from the security camera they kept near the intake door.
"I hate when infectees change the definitions of institutional and culturally pivotal words and concepts," Arthur muttered, scowling at the screen. "Plus, that's just freaky."
"I'll immobilize her," Sean chimed in, his hand resting on his gun in a very clear meaning.
"Something else is at work here," Molly said, closing the laptop with a click of finality, "and we're going to get to the bottom of it."
*
Twenty-five cross-references, five hacks through government databases (the last through a place called Primatech, which seemed not to be affiliated with any organization they knew, and caused Arthur to make the symbol of the cross at his computer screen while jumping away and screaming "Begone, devil!") and fifteen cups of coffee later, and they had their answer.
"Claire Bennet," J.T. said, clicking the slide onto the big screen.
A very innocent-looking blonde stared back at them, her smiling a little forced for what was obviously a school picture. She appeared completely unremarkable, just like all their other infectees: normal until proven otherwise.
"Get her," J.T. said, pushing another button. Her address popped up on the screens in front of them.
"We'll track her down, sir," Sean said, the first out of his seat. But Molly was unable to tear her eyes away from the screen, from the face pleading to be proven normal.
*
Storming the Texas home proved remarkably easy after Lucas was able to remotely disable the security system. ("Really, you wouldn't believe how many things are tied into satellites now. I could stalk any of you if I wanted to, and you'd never know." He said this as if it were comforting.) Less of a storming and more of a quiet invasion, in fact, with Sean and three of his men in the lead, guns announcing their entrance through the front and back doors.
Molly followed Sean through the front door; as soon as they were through, the tiny dog that had been barking since they'd approaching within twenty feet of the front door flew at him.
She smiled, unable to tell whether it was making a sexual advance or attacking.
But the smile didn't last long, because they quickly discovered that, except for a woman sleeping in the master bedroom, the house was empty.
They went back out to the cars and did the best they could to melt into the suburban scenery, awaiting her return. There were certain lines even Threshold wouldn't cross, and abducting a cheerleader at her school was one of those few.
*
"She's coming," Lucas hissed, grabbing Arthur's shoulder in a death grip and pointing an agitated finger at the observation camera monitor.
"Why are you telling me?" Arthur said, reaching up and giving Lucas a hearty shake. "Don't flip out on me now."
"Tell Cavennaugh," Molly said evenly, putting a hand on his shoulder.
Lucas fumbled for the radio, and after a few static mishaps, got the message across.
When Sean and his team hauled the girl into the van, his hand over her mouth to keep her from screaming, Molly had to look away.
*
"Whatever you think I am, you have the wrong girl!" She cried, banging her fists against the glass.
"Why don't we have her sedated and restrained in the medlab?" Nigel demanded, his arms crossed over his chest. "This girl was dead, Caffrey. We all saw her."
"They look so human," Lucas said quietly, chewing on one of his fingernails nervously.
"They're not." J.T., hands folded at the small of his back, stepped closer to the glass. He didn't flinch even when she came directly in front of his part of the barrier, screaming her protests louder.
"Did you hear her word choice?" Arthur tapped a finger on his chin, brows furrowing. "She said what we think she is. Not who. She knows something's different about her. She could be fully cognizant of the change."
Molly held up a hand for just a second, as if she were going to touch the glass.
"I know." She said, instead, and left the room.
*
She slid the grainy security photos across the table, watching closely for Claire's reaction.
"These are from your intake at the morgue," Molly said, clinically observing the utter surreality of saying the word morgue to Claire, who was sitting in front of her looking perfectly vital, healthy, and human. "By every measure that we can ascertain after the fact, you were dead when these were taken."
Claire's face went through a shocking number of expressions, quick flashes of intense emotion that took Molly completely off-guard: shock, fear, anger, resignation, and under them all, a pervasive sadness that she couldn't attribute to performance, no matter how carefully she told herself to tread.
"What am I supposed to say?" Claire pushed them back, looking away.
"The truth." Molly put them inside the manila folder, shutting it. "That's all we want."
"You're going to lock me up either way, aren't you?" Claire's jaw set into an incredibly stubborn line, her arms coming up and crossing over her chest protectively. "I don't see why I should tell you anything."
Molly started to say something, stopped, started and stopped again.
She was so tired of lying.
"I'm going to do everything I can to make sure that doesn't happen," was the only thing she could offer, and it was the best she could do.
*
"How are these results possible?" Molly asked, shaking her head at the manila file folder open in her hands.
"Add it to the list," Nigel said, watching Claire through the glass. "Looks like she's just a run-of-the-mill inexplicably mutated human."
"So no triple helix?" Molly said, afraid to trust what she was hearing because she'd hoped against hope before and rarely been rewarded for her efforts.
"Nope. Lots of other interesting stuff going on in there, though." He looking at Molly, as if watching to see how she'd react to his next words. "It's too early to say for sure, but I can't rule out the possibility that she might hold the key to curing the infection."
Molly closed the file. "And I'm guessing that blood sample you took won't cut it."
Nigel shook his head. "I'm afraid not."
"Hm." Molly smiled but it wasn't the least bit mirthful. "Of course it couldn't be that easy."
*
"You know we can't fully brief this girl." J.T., as ever, combined sympathy and practicality into one neat package. "And from what she's told Ramsey, she's already been through more than a couple runarounds with her father."
"I know," Molly said, tapping her pen against her desk. "But we're not just going to take whatever we want from her. She's not our enemy and it wouldn't be in our best interests to treat her like one."
"And she's only seventeen," J.T. said softly, his eyes steady on hers.
"And she's only seventeen," Molly repeated, sighing.
*
"Just because I'm some kind of freak doesn't mean I enjoy being studied," Claire said, her arms crossed over her chest. She'd been officially released as of ten minutes ago, and Molly had apologized all the different ways she knew how, each of them genuine. She wondered if Claire could tell, if that's why she was staying even though the door was finally open.
"I assure you," Molly said, her hands folded prayer-style on the table, "I wouldn't ask if this weren't important. If I didn't believe it would do some good."
"And you can't even tell me why?" Claire said, eyes narrowing.
Molly looked at Claire felt like she was seeing a picture slowly form before her: the father who, every time they thought they came close to pinning him down into the system, kept dead-ending behind deeper encryptions and dummy organizations; the way that when they'd taken her into custody, she hadn't been surprised, but resigned, as if she'd just been waiting for this to happen; the genes that guaranteed that she would never need to go to a hospital in her life, that marked her as indelibly as a triple helix but with a completely different outcome and just as many ramifications.
Claire was becoming a woman in a world of infinitely expanding possibilities and she had the power to tilt the scales and affect which ones came to fruition, and nothing Molly could do would protect her from herself.
"Tell you what," Molly said, standing. "Why don't I show you what I can, and you can decide for yourself."
"And if my answer's no?" Claire said, still skeptical.
"Then we'll put you on the first flight home," Molly said. She stepped forward, putting a hand on Claire's shoulder. "I promise."
"All right," Claire said, a little lingering reluctance as she looked at Molly, like she wasn't quite willing to trust, yet, but she was allowing the possibility that she might.
Molly couldn't help but think she'd react the same way in Claire's position, and what a world they lived in that she needed to learn it so young.
*
"This is Jenklo," Molly said, gesturing at him. "He's been affected."
"Is he on drugs?" Claire asked, leaning over and whispering, keeping her eyes on him.
He stared back at them, hands resting on his thighs, expression still.
"No," Molly said. "We haven't been able to develop any treatments, yet."
"Can he hear us?" Claire said, taking a step backwards. "He's kinda creeping me out."
"He can hear us," Molly said, staring at Jenklo, at a face the same age as Claire's but completely inaccessible to her. "He just chooses not to respond."
"I think I've seen enough," Claire said, rubbing her hands up and down her upper arms.
"I'll escort you back up," Molly said, and led her to the elevator.
*
"So, if I wanted to do this..." Claire said, her eyes carefully on the ceiling of the elevator and not on Molly. "I mean, if, big if."
Molly nodded. "Hypothetically speaking, you mean."
"Yeah. If I wanted to do this... what would I need to do?"
"Well," Molly said, "the first thing we'd need to do is inform your parents. You're a minor, so after we obtained your consent we would need to legally obtain theirs."
Claire sighed in that special way that teenagers sigh, slumping down against the back wall of the elevator. "Well, great. So much for that idea. He'll never let me do it."
"He'd find out sooner or later," Molly said, shrugging. "We'd probably be flying you out to D.C. on a monthly basis for a full workup in Dr. Fenway's lab. This would affect your entire life. It's not something you could hide from your family."
"You haven't met my family," Claire grumbled.
"Regardless. If you're willing, another blood sample and a few scans before you leave would be a great benefit to us, but beyond that, we'd have no choice but to inform your guardians."
Claire was silent for the next few floors down, chewing on the edge of her thumbnail.
Just before they got out on the ready room floor, she said, "I'm eighteen in five months."
"That's a coincidence," Molly said, just as the elevator doors opened. "I was just thinking we might have a job opening in five months."
Claire, for the first time since they'd met, smiled.
*
"You can't be serious," J.T. said, looking at Molly like she was crazy. "She's going to be an eighteen-year old kid in five months. This is no place for kids, no matter how fast they heal."
"I don't disagree. But we don't have the luxury of waiting around until she's thirty. She might never make it to thirty if we don't do our jobs. Besides," Molly said, looking out over the city, the ready room empty behind her, "I think it's about time someone gave her a choice in all this, don't you?"
"And she'll probably be safer here at Threshold than she is out there," J.T. said, softly.
"That's what we like to think, anyway." Molly said, smiling a little. "And not that there's any guarantee that she'll still want all of this five months down the line, but I drafted up a plan for how to slowly help her acclimate to working here - she'd start in a low, menial position, of course, absolutely no contact with infectees, and then we'd progress from there, doing weekly check-ins to see how she's coping with all of it. Did you want to take a look at it?"
"Why am I not surprised?" J.T. said, chuckling.
Molly's smile grew and she patted J.T. on the shoulder. "That's my job," she said, leading him out of the ready room to in the direction of her office, where she had a color-coded binder all laid out to illustrate her points.
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mylia.
*
Molly, Claire; T; ~2,300w.
A report of a corpse walking out of a morgue leads them to Texas. "Claire Bennet," J.T. said, clicking the slide onto the big screen.
Choices
"Corpses don't just get up and walk away," the coroner said, a tremble underneath the declarative certainty of her words.
"You'd be surprised," Nigel said dryly.
Molly shot him a look and he didn't say anything else, but the coroner watched him curiously as he gathered evidence, and she eventually had to put her arms around the poor woman's shoulder, leading her out of the room with promises that they would get to the bottom of this mystery.
She felt like she was promising that a lot lately since she'd taken this job. She just hoped she wasn't lying, this time.
*
"A serious cranial puncture, yes, but if it weren't fatal I don't think it would have immobilized an infectee that long," Nigel said, flipping through the file, his glasses perched on top of his head.
"And she looks really dead on these tapes," Lucas said, turning around the laptop so Molly could see the freeze-frame from the security camera they kept near the intake door.
"I hate when infectees change the definitions of institutional and culturally pivotal words and concepts," Arthur muttered, scowling at the screen. "Plus, that's just freaky."
"I'll immobilize her," Sean chimed in, his hand resting on his gun in a very clear meaning.
"Something else is at work here," Molly said, closing the laptop with a click of finality, "and we're going to get to the bottom of it."
*
Twenty-five cross-references, five hacks through government databases (the last through a place called Primatech, which seemed not to be affiliated with any organization they knew, and caused Arthur to make the symbol of the cross at his computer screen while jumping away and screaming "Begone, devil!") and fifteen cups of coffee later, and they had their answer.
"Claire Bennet," J.T. said, clicking the slide onto the big screen.
A very innocent-looking blonde stared back at them, her smiling a little forced for what was obviously a school picture. She appeared completely unremarkable, just like all their other infectees: normal until proven otherwise.
"Get her," J.T. said, pushing another button. Her address popped up on the screens in front of them.
"We'll track her down, sir," Sean said, the first out of his seat. But Molly was unable to tear her eyes away from the screen, from the face pleading to be proven normal.
*
Storming the Texas home proved remarkably easy after Lucas was able to remotely disable the security system. ("Really, you wouldn't believe how many things are tied into satellites now. I could stalk any of you if I wanted to, and you'd never know." He said this as if it were comforting.) Less of a storming and more of a quiet invasion, in fact, with Sean and three of his men in the lead, guns announcing their entrance through the front and back doors.
Molly followed Sean through the front door; as soon as they were through, the tiny dog that had been barking since they'd approaching within twenty feet of the front door flew at him.
She smiled, unable to tell whether it was making a sexual advance or attacking.
But the smile didn't last long, because they quickly discovered that, except for a woman sleeping in the master bedroom, the house was empty.
They went back out to the cars and did the best they could to melt into the suburban scenery, awaiting her return. There were certain lines even Threshold wouldn't cross, and abducting a cheerleader at her school was one of those few.
*
"She's coming," Lucas hissed, grabbing Arthur's shoulder in a death grip and pointing an agitated finger at the observation camera monitor.
"Why are you telling me?" Arthur said, reaching up and giving Lucas a hearty shake. "Don't flip out on me now."
"Tell Cavennaugh," Molly said evenly, putting a hand on his shoulder.
Lucas fumbled for the radio, and after a few static mishaps, got the message across.
When Sean and his team hauled the girl into the van, his hand over her mouth to keep her from screaming, Molly had to look away.
*
"Whatever you think I am, you have the wrong girl!" She cried, banging her fists against the glass.
"Why don't we have her sedated and restrained in the medlab?" Nigel demanded, his arms crossed over his chest. "This girl was dead, Caffrey. We all saw her."
"They look so human," Lucas said quietly, chewing on one of his fingernails nervously.
"They're not." J.T., hands folded at the small of his back, stepped closer to the glass. He didn't flinch even when she came directly in front of his part of the barrier, screaming her protests louder.
"Did you hear her word choice?" Arthur tapped a finger on his chin, brows furrowing. "She said what we think she is. Not who. She knows something's different about her. She could be fully cognizant of the change."
Molly held up a hand for just a second, as if she were going to touch the glass.
"I know." She said, instead, and left the room.
*
She slid the grainy security photos across the table, watching closely for Claire's reaction.
"These are from your intake at the morgue," Molly said, clinically observing the utter surreality of saying the word morgue to Claire, who was sitting in front of her looking perfectly vital, healthy, and human. "By every measure that we can ascertain after the fact, you were dead when these were taken."
Claire's face went through a shocking number of expressions, quick flashes of intense emotion that took Molly completely off-guard: shock, fear, anger, resignation, and under them all, a pervasive sadness that she couldn't attribute to performance, no matter how carefully she told herself to tread.
"What am I supposed to say?" Claire pushed them back, looking away.
"The truth." Molly put them inside the manila folder, shutting it. "That's all we want."
"You're going to lock me up either way, aren't you?" Claire's jaw set into an incredibly stubborn line, her arms coming up and crossing over her chest protectively. "I don't see why I should tell you anything."
Molly started to say something, stopped, started and stopped again.
She was so tired of lying.
"I'm going to do everything I can to make sure that doesn't happen," was the only thing she could offer, and it was the best she could do.
*
"How are these results possible?" Molly asked, shaking her head at the manila file folder open in her hands.
"Add it to the list," Nigel said, watching Claire through the glass. "Looks like she's just a run-of-the-mill inexplicably mutated human."
"So no triple helix?" Molly said, afraid to trust what she was hearing because she'd hoped against hope before and rarely been rewarded for her efforts.
"Nope. Lots of other interesting stuff going on in there, though." He looking at Molly, as if watching to see how she'd react to his next words. "It's too early to say for sure, but I can't rule out the possibility that she might hold the key to curing the infection."
Molly closed the file. "And I'm guessing that blood sample you took won't cut it."
Nigel shook his head. "I'm afraid not."
"Hm." Molly smiled but it wasn't the least bit mirthful. "Of course it couldn't be that easy."
*
"You know we can't fully brief this girl." J.T., as ever, combined sympathy and practicality into one neat package. "And from what she's told Ramsey, she's already been through more than a couple runarounds with her father."
"I know," Molly said, tapping her pen against her desk. "But we're not just going to take whatever we want from her. She's not our enemy and it wouldn't be in our best interests to treat her like one."
"And she's only seventeen," J.T. said softly, his eyes steady on hers.
"And she's only seventeen," Molly repeated, sighing.
*
"Just because I'm some kind of freak doesn't mean I enjoy being studied," Claire said, her arms crossed over her chest. She'd been officially released as of ten minutes ago, and Molly had apologized all the different ways she knew how, each of them genuine. She wondered if Claire could tell, if that's why she was staying even though the door was finally open.
"I assure you," Molly said, her hands folded prayer-style on the table, "I wouldn't ask if this weren't important. If I didn't believe it would do some good."
"And you can't even tell me why?" Claire said, eyes narrowing.
Molly looked at Claire felt like she was seeing a picture slowly form before her: the father who, every time they thought they came close to pinning him down into the system, kept dead-ending behind deeper encryptions and dummy organizations; the way that when they'd taken her into custody, she hadn't been surprised, but resigned, as if she'd just been waiting for this to happen; the genes that guaranteed that she would never need to go to a hospital in her life, that marked her as indelibly as a triple helix but with a completely different outcome and just as many ramifications.
Claire was becoming a woman in a world of infinitely expanding possibilities and she had the power to tilt the scales and affect which ones came to fruition, and nothing Molly could do would protect her from herself.
"Tell you what," Molly said, standing. "Why don't I show you what I can, and you can decide for yourself."
"And if my answer's no?" Claire said, still skeptical.
"Then we'll put you on the first flight home," Molly said. She stepped forward, putting a hand on Claire's shoulder. "I promise."
"All right," Claire said, a little lingering reluctance as she looked at Molly, like she wasn't quite willing to trust, yet, but she was allowing the possibility that she might.
Molly couldn't help but think she'd react the same way in Claire's position, and what a world they lived in that she needed to learn it so young.
*
"This is Jenklo," Molly said, gesturing at him. "He's been affected."
"Is he on drugs?" Claire asked, leaning over and whispering, keeping her eyes on him.
He stared back at them, hands resting on his thighs, expression still.
"No," Molly said. "We haven't been able to develop any treatments, yet."
"Can he hear us?" Claire said, taking a step backwards. "He's kinda creeping me out."
"He can hear us," Molly said, staring at Jenklo, at a face the same age as Claire's but completely inaccessible to her. "He just chooses not to respond."
"I think I've seen enough," Claire said, rubbing her hands up and down her upper arms.
"I'll escort you back up," Molly said, and led her to the elevator.
*
"So, if I wanted to do this..." Claire said, her eyes carefully on the ceiling of the elevator and not on Molly. "I mean, if, big if."
Molly nodded. "Hypothetically speaking, you mean."
"Yeah. If I wanted to do this... what would I need to do?"
"Well," Molly said, "the first thing we'd need to do is inform your parents. You're a minor, so after we obtained your consent we would need to legally obtain theirs."
Claire sighed in that special way that teenagers sigh, slumping down against the back wall of the elevator. "Well, great. So much for that idea. He'll never let me do it."
"He'd find out sooner or later," Molly said, shrugging. "We'd probably be flying you out to D.C. on a monthly basis for a full workup in Dr. Fenway's lab. This would affect your entire life. It's not something you could hide from your family."
"You haven't met my family," Claire grumbled.
"Regardless. If you're willing, another blood sample and a few scans before you leave would be a great benefit to us, but beyond that, we'd have no choice but to inform your guardians."
Claire was silent for the next few floors down, chewing on the edge of her thumbnail.
Just before they got out on the ready room floor, she said, "I'm eighteen in five months."
"That's a coincidence," Molly said, just as the elevator doors opened. "I was just thinking we might have a job opening in five months."
Claire, for the first time since they'd met, smiled.
*
"You can't be serious," J.T. said, looking at Molly like she was crazy. "She's going to be an eighteen-year old kid in five months. This is no place for kids, no matter how fast they heal."
"I don't disagree. But we don't have the luxury of waiting around until she's thirty. She might never make it to thirty if we don't do our jobs. Besides," Molly said, looking out over the city, the ready room empty behind her, "I think it's about time someone gave her a choice in all this, don't you?"
"And she'll probably be safer here at Threshold than she is out there," J.T. said, softly.
"That's what we like to think, anyway." Molly said, smiling a little. "And not that there's any guarantee that she'll still want all of this five months down the line, but I drafted up a plan for how to slowly help her acclimate to working here - she'd start in a low, menial position, of course, absolutely no contact with infectees, and then we'd progress from there, doing weekly check-ins to see how she's coping with all of it. Did you want to take a look at it?"
"Why am I not surprised?" J.T. said, chuckling.
Molly's smile grew and she patted J.T. on the shoulder. "That's my job," she said, leading him out of the ready room to in the direction of her office, where she had a color-coded binder all laid out to illustrate her points.
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