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Title: Black Edelweiss
Series: Zeitgeist
Follows: One Giant Leap
Wordcount: 1,253
Summary: Two weeks after Claire Bennet's televised leap from the Ferris wheel, the 12th handles it's first case delving into the strange world of specials. Evidence points the investigation toward a former Company Agent, a man Noah Bennet would swear up and down doesn't exist.
Details: Minimal details due to inflation. Full warnings and details in main post.
Warning: This interlude contains spoilers for the Agatha Christie's The Mousetrap.
PREV: Interlude 11 // MAIN // NEXT: Interlude 13
Konrad—Manhattan, New York; August 1968
"He's presented to us in the beginning as a policeman," Konrad explained with a soft smile, "and the detective is the one person you never suspect in a mystery story."
The girl considered his words for a moment before her nose crinkled attractively. Well, perhaps girl was a bit uncharitable. It was possible she was in her mid-twenties, though certainly not older.
It was the closing party for her troupe's production of Agatha Christie's The Mousetrap. A mere understudy for the past several months, their final two weeks had been her first stepping into her role. While he was no expert on theater, as far as Konrad was concerned she had proven a success. He had no opinion of whether or not it suited the part, but the young actress had a vibrant energy to her that Konrad had found irresistibly charming. Still giddy from the rush of the stage, she had been more than happy to indulge his company. Surprised at her apparent confusion regarding the ending of the very play she had performed, Konrad had tried to explain it to her.
"I’ll confess," she said after a moment, smiling with embarrassment, "I've never been fond of mysteries."
Konrad finally let it slide. Though she was clearly a very bright young woman, if the interest simply wasn’t there then continuing on the subject wouldn’t be worth the effort. Their conversation turned instead toward theater itself rather than the plot of the play that had just been performed.
"Have you ever done any acting?" she asked him with interest.
"I've played a few parts," Konrad answered simply, trying to keep a childish note of hurt bitterness out of his voice.
First Dorian Gray then Richard Conway...and the curtain was closing on the latter production as well. Soon he would be reprising his old role as Konrad Reichardt—though he could only hope it would be on a stage more brightly lit than the last.
She seemed to note the maudlin edge to even that short answer, and when he failed to supply more, rather than prying she continued with an easy smile.
"I've always had a passion for the dramatic," she told him. "I come by it quite naturally. I grew up in the shadow of Coney Island. As a girl I took center stage in my family's psychic act."
Konrad leaned back, taking a second look at her with a slight frown as some memory itched out of reach in the back of his mind. He had seen more than a few such acts in his time, the sort where articles were taken from the audience for the performer to identify. Yet something about this seemed achingly familiar...
"'Now, oh seer, what do your visions show?'" Konrad asked imperiously, bringing his fingers to his temple.
Her lips parted into a pleased grin. Then her eyes roamed from his, turning thoughtful. Following her gaze, Konrad realize she was looking at his watch.
"There was this man who used to bring is sons to the pier on the second Saturday of every month," she said, speculatively. "Like clockwork. I remember the younger boy was fascinated with my act. He always had to participate..."
Her fingers ghosted across the back of his hand as she reached out to touch his watch, as if confirming to herself the evidence of her eyes.
"He always borrowed his father's wristwatch. I don't know how many times I must have seen it..." Looking back at his face, she wore a faint, wondering smile. "You look...a bit like him. Was that you?"
Konrad drew his arm back slowly from her touch, a tug covering the watch with his sleeve. It was an old Sylar 1917 Field Edition, the one his father had worn during the end of the first war. Given to him when he enlisted, it had been the only piece of his family that he had managed to hold on to after he fled. He had always hoped to pass it along to Sam when he was older, but that opportunity had never arrived...
"Lots of fathers take their sons to Coney Island," Konrad answered neutrally, trying not to show how the memory had affected him.
She was mistaking him for his son, he knew, and Konrad was stunned to realize that he and Sam probably would seem about the same age at this point. His thoughts strayed to Sarah. As good as his promise to her, Konrad had never tried to contact his family, but even the promises he made to himself could never stop him from thinking about them. He often wondered if Sarah was still living in the same apartment in Brooklyn, or if she had managed to find a place overlooking a park like she'd wanted. Wondered if Martin had taken over the shop like he always said he would. Wondered what Samson had decided to do with his life...
Warm fingers startled Konrad out of his speculation as she took his hand, turning it over in hers. Her fingertips traced the lines of his hand as a palm-reader would—passing lightly over a lifeline which appeared no different from any other—but her eyes were on his face, meeting his.
"I sense...that you're very lonely," she said.
There was a touch of humor to her sympathy, which somehow made it palatable, and he offered her an apologetic smile. Unfazed by his melancholy she returned the smile to him gently, leaning in for a kiss. He stopped her with a hand on her cheek.
"You know I can't stay."
Because he had told her that he was leaving New York the next day, though not where he was going or why. Tomorrow, Konrad would board a flight to Texas and join Bobby Bishop at the Company's new facility in Odessa. Catching her show had been his way of saying goodbye to the city he had loved so much these past twenty years. The city that had embraced him and become his home after the one he had known in Dresden had been destroyed.
Konrad hadn't told her that he was leaving because he had been gunned down in front of witnesses trying to stop a bank robbery two days ago. He should never have given her the name Conway, but this was the third life he had been forced to abandon, and he had wanted to say goodbye to that, too. From what he had seen, she would make up her own reasons for his leaving. Let her think he was dodging the draft or a gambler escaping his debt, whatever she wanted to believe. He just hoped she didn't read the papers too closely...
Raising her hand to his wrist she pulled his hand down gently, pushing forward in spite of his protests to claim her kiss regardless. Her lips tasted sweet from the colorful drink she had had.
"I know, Richard, but let's pretend," she said, smiling broadly as her voice took on a tone of melodrama. "Let's love a lifetime in a single night and pretend we have forever."
And Konrad realized, too late, that the same charm that had drawn him in made her invitation impossible for him to resist. Martha wasn't what he normally considered his type, but maybe right now her flavor of joy and excitement was exactly what he needed. Because he did want to pretend—pretend he was who she thought he was, that little boy who had been fascinated by her show when she was younger.
If he let himself forget who he was for just one moment of happiness, would that really be so wrong?
PREV: Interlude 11 // MAIN // NEXT: Interlude 13
Author's Note: Posted in honor of Castle's birthday (April 1st).
Series: Zeitgeist
Follows: One Giant Leap
Wordcount: 1,253
Summary: Two weeks after Claire Bennet's televised leap from the Ferris wheel, the 12th handles it's first case delving into the strange world of specials. Evidence points the investigation toward a former Company Agent, a man Noah Bennet would swear up and down doesn't exist.
Details: Minimal details due to inflation. Full warnings and details in main post.
Warning: This interlude contains spoilers for the Agatha Christie's The Mousetrap.
PREV: Interlude 11 // MAIN // NEXT: Interlude 13
Konrad—Manhattan, New York; August 1968
"He's presented to us in the beginning as a policeman," Konrad explained with a soft smile, "and the detective is the one person you never suspect in a mystery story."
The girl considered his words for a moment before her nose crinkled attractively. Well, perhaps girl was a bit uncharitable. It was possible she was in her mid-twenties, though certainly not older.
It was the closing party for her troupe's production of Agatha Christie's The Mousetrap. A mere understudy for the past several months, their final two weeks had been her first stepping into her role. While he was no expert on theater, as far as Konrad was concerned she had proven a success. He had no opinion of whether or not it suited the part, but the young actress had a vibrant energy to her that Konrad had found irresistibly charming. Still giddy from the rush of the stage, she had been more than happy to indulge his company. Surprised at her apparent confusion regarding the ending of the very play she had performed, Konrad had tried to explain it to her.
"I’ll confess," she said after a moment, smiling with embarrassment, "I've never been fond of mysteries."
Konrad finally let it slide. Though she was clearly a very bright young woman, if the interest simply wasn’t there then continuing on the subject wouldn’t be worth the effort. Their conversation turned instead toward theater itself rather than the plot of the play that had just been performed.
"Have you ever done any acting?" she asked him with interest.
"I've played a few parts," Konrad answered simply, trying to keep a childish note of hurt bitterness out of his voice.
First Dorian Gray then Richard Conway...and the curtain was closing on the latter production as well. Soon he would be reprising his old role as Konrad Reichardt—though he could only hope it would be on a stage more brightly lit than the last.
She seemed to note the maudlin edge to even that short answer, and when he failed to supply more, rather than prying she continued with an easy smile.
"I've always had a passion for the dramatic," she told him. "I come by it quite naturally. I grew up in the shadow of Coney Island. As a girl I took center stage in my family's psychic act."
Konrad leaned back, taking a second look at her with a slight frown as some memory itched out of reach in the back of his mind. He had seen more than a few such acts in his time, the sort where articles were taken from the audience for the performer to identify. Yet something about this seemed achingly familiar...
"'Now, oh seer, what do your visions show?'" Konrad asked imperiously, bringing his fingers to his temple.
Her lips parted into a pleased grin. Then her eyes roamed from his, turning thoughtful. Following her gaze, Konrad realize she was looking at his watch.
"There was this man who used to bring is sons to the pier on the second Saturday of every month," she said, speculatively. "Like clockwork. I remember the younger boy was fascinated with my act. He always had to participate..."
Her fingers ghosted across the back of his hand as she reached out to touch his watch, as if confirming to herself the evidence of her eyes.
"He always borrowed his father's wristwatch. I don't know how many times I must have seen it..." Looking back at his face, she wore a faint, wondering smile. "You look...a bit like him. Was that you?"
Konrad drew his arm back slowly from her touch, a tug covering the watch with his sleeve. It was an old Sylar 1917 Field Edition, the one his father had worn during the end of the first war. Given to him when he enlisted, it had been the only piece of his family that he had managed to hold on to after he fled. He had always hoped to pass it along to Sam when he was older, but that opportunity had never arrived...
"Lots of fathers take their sons to Coney Island," Konrad answered neutrally, trying not to show how the memory had affected him.
She was mistaking him for his son, he knew, and Konrad was stunned to realize that he and Sam probably would seem about the same age at this point. His thoughts strayed to Sarah. As good as his promise to her, Konrad had never tried to contact his family, but even the promises he made to himself could never stop him from thinking about them. He often wondered if Sarah was still living in the same apartment in Brooklyn, or if she had managed to find a place overlooking a park like she'd wanted. Wondered if Martin had taken over the shop like he always said he would. Wondered what Samson had decided to do with his life...
Warm fingers startled Konrad out of his speculation as she took his hand, turning it over in hers. Her fingertips traced the lines of his hand as a palm-reader would—passing lightly over a lifeline which appeared no different from any other—but her eyes were on his face, meeting his.
"I sense...that you're very lonely," she said.
There was a touch of humor to her sympathy, which somehow made it palatable, and he offered her an apologetic smile. Unfazed by his melancholy she returned the smile to him gently, leaning in for a kiss. He stopped her with a hand on her cheek.
"You know I can't stay."
Because he had told her that he was leaving New York the next day, though not where he was going or why. Tomorrow, Konrad would board a flight to Texas and join Bobby Bishop at the Company's new facility in Odessa. Catching her show had been his way of saying goodbye to the city he had loved so much these past twenty years. The city that had embraced him and become his home after the one he had known in Dresden had been destroyed.
Konrad hadn't told her that he was leaving because he had been gunned down in front of witnesses trying to stop a bank robbery two days ago. He should never have given her the name Conway, but this was the third life he had been forced to abandon, and he had wanted to say goodbye to that, too. From what he had seen, she would make up her own reasons for his leaving. Let her think he was dodging the draft or a gambler escaping his debt, whatever she wanted to believe. He just hoped she didn't read the papers too closely...
Raising her hand to his wrist she pulled his hand down gently, pushing forward in spite of his protests to claim her kiss regardless. Her lips tasted sweet from the colorful drink she had had.
"I know, Richard, but let's pretend," she said, smiling broadly as her voice took on a tone of melodrama. "Let's love a lifetime in a single night and pretend we have forever."
And Konrad realized, too late, that the same charm that had drawn him in made her invitation impossible for him to resist. Martha wasn't what he normally considered his type, but maybe right now her flavor of joy and excitement was exactly what he needed. Because he did want to pretend—pretend he was who she thought he was, that little boy who had been fascinated by her show when she was younger.
If he let himself forget who he was for just one moment of happiness, would that really be so wrong?
PREV: Interlude 11 // MAIN // NEXT: Interlude 13
Author's Note: Posted in honor of Castle's birthday (April 1st).
