Chapter Nine: The White House

The cab had placed them in front of a grand, bright white doorstep of a completely white Regency-styled estate. It was quite a large one as well, even considering the times, with three floors with many elaborately designed white windows. Kate was reassured once she noted that the lawn was well-kept, as well as the rose bushes that lined it. Before Adam even had the chance to grab the knocker, the heavy doors opened.

They were opened by a sort of tall old man, with a perfectly white mustache and a a pair of black framed glasses. He was in a red robe and pajamas, but he still looked as professional as ever. He blinked twice, and then grinned.

"Joseph, it's been far too long, but I have been expecting you," he said with a wry smile. "Come in, please, come in. Ely! Make some tea and bring out the lemon cake to the lounge! We have much to talk about, Joseph."

Adam was really smiling. "Always the same, Walter. You haven't changed much. And I assume you remember Kate Bailey?"

Walter immediately took her hand to kiss it. "As dashing as ever, Miss Bailey." But, he raised his eyes at the child in her arms. "Another one? Well, you two have been quite busy." At this, the two's smiles turned to grimaces. "Like I've said, there is much to talk about. Fifteen years and not even a single call? You're in deep trouble, Mr. Allen."

The lounge was a bit more comfortable to say the least. There were two leather sofas and a love seat around a glass table with fresh-picked flowers. The rest of the room held a white grand piano and paintings that lined the wall. Auctions, Mr. Ferguson had explained.

Re-telling of five years spent in Revolutionary France proved to start off difficult for Adam and Kate, but they found themselves done with the story in about fifteen minutes. Walter listened closely to all of this, face in deep thought, and head nodding with every detail of the hell, as they called it.

"It would be possible to complete Elizabeth's request, wouldn't it?" asked Kate. "There is such a thing as a time permit, yes?"

Walter coughed, looking quite uncomfortable. "No one should be permitted to mess with time, and that has been the world's view on it for centuries. If she wishes to join the World Temporal Corps, she may do so through the typical means, although I will gladly write her a recommendation letter. She should at least be happy that she isn't being sentenced to death for her crimes."

Kate nodded unsurely, while Adam seemed to have no problem with this. Clarisse sat next to her mother and had her neck craned to see every feature of the room.

"Is Monsieur very rich?" she asked.

Kate placed Clarisse in her lap. "Yes," she whispered to her, "very rich, but he doesn't like to show it."

"Dad, we've nearly run out of bergamots," said Ely, a young man with well-kept brown hair in his thirties, while he placed the tea tray down on the glass table.

While Adam took one of the teacups, he purred, "Are you still living with your father, Elijah? You're a man very well-suited for any woman."

"That, Mr. Allen," Ely looked slightly insulted, "would be a question for Elijah. He's working in the basement now, and should be back in time for dinner. Which, speaking of..."

With these words, another man nearly identical to Ely came into the room. This one wore an pastel orange silk shirt and didn't have his hair so neatly combed down. "About that... I may need another hand for the dessert. Ah hello, Mr. Allen! My dad said he knew you'd be coming. Nice trip?"

"Elias!" Ely was calling from the doorway. "Eliot needs you in the kitchen! Ah, excuse me, Mr. Allen, Miss Bailey, Little Miss Bailey."

"Mr. Ferguson," Kate asked from her tea. "I'm not sure I've met all of your children."

Walter chewed through his bite of lemon cake. "Yes, you've had. The eldest is Glen, who is in Prague with his own family. Then Laurel, in Milan still trying to start a fashion catalogue. Then Celeste, in Edinburgh working at the University. Then there's Elijah, who lives with me. He is a duplicator, don't you remember?"

While Kate became embarrassed from the lack of understanding, Adam made a question. "What would Elijah be doing in the basement? And what would you, Mr. Prime Minister, be doing in your pajamas? I've missed fifteen goddamn years, and there seems to be more time passed than last time."

Walter sipped his tea calmly. "I resigned about a year ago," he said. "I was getting too old and tired to keep up with this radical world. Elijah took over as Prime Minister until they overthrew him last Tuesday."

"Overthrew him?" At once, Adam's face displayed some form of terror.

"Why, yes. The pressure popped. Radicals have been spreading and deciding that they didn't like your way of organizing Europe. So, new leaders, new borders, the forming of actual countries again. But gone is the mixed population where you'd have a multitude of abilities working together. Now, people want laws and rights that allow them to use their abilities to the fullest, rather than be suppressed in a field of near equality. Everything is being turned on its head and redone."

Kate asked, "So that's why they've opened all borders for free immigration? So people can settle to their hearts content and won't protest and cause damage to their current governments?"

"Basically," shrugged Walter. "But there's still going to be war over who controls which land and what freedoms certain ability types have when in a certain country."

"Insolents," teethed Adam. "They'll never appreciate what they had."

"Because they think they know what they want, and they think they want change," Ely was now sitting with them, sipping his own cup of tea. "They keep saying the old government was a bit... ah..."

"Fascist," Kate completed his thought.

Once Adam looked at her with an eyebrow raised, she continued, "Well, it was, to tell you the truth. If people didn't want to be employed through the government, making use of their own power, they were screwed, making minimum wage no matter what they did. There isn't much freedom with being forced into a career."

Adam tried to ignore her. "And what's this new government like?"

"London's is staying relatively the same considering the rest of Europe," said Walter. "They're still supporting mixed communities, but when you've got things like 90% of knowledge-based abilities moving to Scandinavia, it's not quite the same. The new prime minister, Jocelyn Kimball, is sympathetic to the past, but politics force her to move with the flow. She's a very supple girl for a Petrelli."

Now, Adam was laughing, and Walter and Ely joined him. There were two laughs coming from kitchen as well and a few hearty ones from upstairs.

Kate swallowed her tea. "I don't see what's so funny. The Petrelli Line is your line, isn't it, Joseph?"

The laughed immediately ceased. Adam didn't know when they had started to play Battleship.

"I never knew that, Mr. Allen. How so?" Ely asked.

Adam licked his lips with burning eyes toward Kate. "Angela Petrelli, one of the twelve founders of the Company." He stopped to take some tea while the two from the kitchen could be seen leaning towards the lounge. "She was the seventh generation from my first son, born in Milan, 1750."

The lounge was eerily silent.

"How is this Kimball? Simon's daughter or Monty's?" asked Adam without skipping a beat.

Walter replied, "Peter's daughter, it seems. He still hasn't been tracked down for ages, but there's no faking DNA."

"Oh, I thought he was a homosexual?" sighed Adam. "Nevermind, he must be nearing a hundred by now, bored of the same old story. Walter, we do have a project running to catch him, don't we? This change of priorities is signaling the start of another operation, and I must say this war gives perfect grounds to carry it out."

Walter replied very solemnly, "Joseph, at this point in time, the entire world is at a standstill. We can't do much of anything, much less create a project to pursue a man who has been untraceable for half a century. All we can do is wait and see for what the future holds. It is completely out of our hands."

A/N: First, for those who care, Walter's ability is acute ESP.

Second, for a long time, I imagined Arthur to be Adam's long lost descendants, but Angela's way more kick ass. It makes sense though, right? Adam having children in Italy... and Petrelli being an Italian name.

I'll try to update more often.