Right Where I Belong

Participants:

peter_icon.gif helena_icon.gif

Scene Title Right Where I Belong
Synopsis Recovering from over-exerting his powers, Peter and Helena discuss the future.
Date September 13, 2008

Condemned Tenement: Abandoned Apartment

This apartment looks to have been left untended for years. It's a modest sized studio apartment, opening up from the doorway to both sides, painted a faded canary-yellow color, most of the paint peeling away in large spots. An old, ratty couch rests just across from the door, patched up with pieces of denim over the worn and faded fabric. The cushions look to have seen much abuse, and though they're repaired to some extend by re-stiching, they are still unevenly stuffed. In front of the couch, between it and the far wall is a lopsided coffee table. It's frame is metal, likely was once glass-topped as well, but the entire top of the table has been replaced by a sheet of particle-board with a plastic tarp thrown over it and held in place by heavy-duty staples. The four windows that line the wall opposite of the doorway are all busted out, two of them are boarded up, and all but one is covered with clear plastic that is stapled to the window frame.

Not far from the entrance, a small kitchenette rests in disrepair. The stove doesn't look to have been used in a long time, and with a portion of the ceiling having collapsed down onto it, for good reason. While the debris is neatly stacked — pieces of plaster, wood and sheet-rock stacked a foot high — it clearly seems to be hastily done. The L-shaped counter adjacent to the stove features a mini-fridge that isn't plugged in, and water-stains on the faux-marble countertop.

Beyond the kitchenette is what was likely the apartment's bedroom. A pair of matresses have been laid on the floor, with a folding screen placed between that area and the kitchenette. The screen looks newer and in better condition than the room, though portions of it are scuffed and torn. The bed is made with not only sheets, but also a heavy brick-red quilt that looks to have been hand-made. A small, uncomfortable looking pillow crowns off the arrangement. From the looks of it, no one lives here.


"I'm fine, really…" Peter had protasted the whole way upstairs to his room, "I… I'll be alright." He was still limping, but the dark circles under his eyes had finally started to fade away. It was like his regeneration was working far slower than it normally does. One arm around Helena's shoulders, he works himself into the room at her side, stumbling over an empty beer bottle on the floor in the dark. The heat and electricity still isn't connected in here, but at least the chill of the evening isn't so bad as to make it uncomfortable, what with the window that still lacks plastic covering. "I… I have things I should be doing, I can't lay down…" Stubborn to the last.

"I'm going to sit on you." Helena announces firmly. "And I will make you stay put until I know you're asleep. I'll force you to count sheep if I have to." She looks around as she helps half-carry him to the bed, and nudges him so that he'll fall on it. "I'll get you more blankets so you can stay warm. Minimum of 8 hours, and I mean it. That painting power of yours looks like it drained you dry."

With the nudge, Peter falls backwards onto the bed, landing with a soft exhalation as his arms sprawl out to the side. He closes his eyes for a moment, then blinks them open, "Alright, alright," Peter says gently, "This… isn't the first time this has happened though," Looking over to Helena, Peter seems hesitant to go on, "Too many abilities at once, pushed too far, it burns me out. Sometimes I black out, sometimes I just… get feeble." He grimaces slightly, trying to lean up on one arm. As he looks up at Helena, he holds up one of his hands, motioning towards her, then draws his fingers in. A disappointed look comes over his face, "Can't even pull you closer…"

Helena sits down on the bed, tucking back his hair. "With the luck we're having tonight, Claire would walk in and there would be epic amounts of drama." Helena points out ruefully. "But I'll stay at least as long as it takes to get you asleep."

Peter manages a smile, closing his eyes and nodding as he feels the touch of Helena's fingers moving back his hair, "Did you ever get my note?" He asks, slowly opening his eyes, shifting on the bed to lay his head down on the small pillow, trying to get himself into a semblance of comfort, despite his current condition. He winces, moving his foot more carefully, the ankle was still tender.

Helena looks over him fretfully, but pink rises on her cheeks. "I did." she says. "I've never gotten a flower before, much less flowers, plural. It's in my room. Is your friend alright?" She's content to talk, at least until he drowses off.

Peter smiles, a more full one, seeing the reaction, "Have to keep that in mind…" His brow tenses at the second half of the question, and he shakes his head, "No, she's… pretty banged up. She'll live, but she's going to be in the hospital for a while. S'kind've a long story…" His head leans towards Helena, eyes closing, "I'll tell you about it tomorrow, when I don't feel like I fell off the roof of that building." He laughs, painfully. Then, after a moment of silence with his eyes closed, "You looked good in black." He smiles, wryly.

Helena lets out a laugh at that. "This is work clothes." she says, brushing herself down a little bit. "If you're that desperate to see me done up as a goth tart, I'm sure an opportunity will present itself. I didn't realize you went for the girls with the pale skin and the heavy eye makeup, though." she teases. She grows serious for a moment. "Are you planning to kill Sylar?"

Peter is all smiles at first, shaking his head slowly, "Not really, no, you just… It looks good on you." He was about to continue the flattery, but her more serious question catches Peter off guard. He moves to sit up, groans, and then lays back down on the bed again, draping one arm over his forehead, staring up at the ceiling. "Yes." His answer was clear, determined, "I'm going to."

Helena is silent for a long time, her expression musing. Then, "Good." She looks down at him. "From what I've heard, he needs killing." Then softer, "And that woman? She looks like she was eating that man." She shudders. It really creeped her out.

"If there was any other way," Peter says quietly, "But he's a monster, through and through." Forcing his eyes shut, Peter tries to forget who the real monster is, and as he opens them again, he looks up to Helena, rolling onto his side, reaching to to rest a hand on her leg. "Hey," He tries to sound reassuring, "We'll figure it out. I… I'm not entirely sure what's going on, but we'll figure it out. The numbers in that painting, same ones from the one in the subway." Peter shakes his head gently, "It all means something, it's just a matter of figuring it out before it's too late."

"Do you know anybody who's good with numbers?" she asks. "It could be anything…we should sit down one day and see if we can't sort it out. Sylar's always been sort of a boogey man to me, but that woman, I think she'll give him a run for the money in my nightmares." Her tone turns wry. "Okay, so not a topic for getting you to fall asleep."

Peter laughs, smiling again, and his hand slowly moves away to lay flat on the bed from where it rested on Helena's leg. "Not particularly, no. Maybe Sergei? He's a cop, right?" He looks thoughtful for a moment, "I don't know…" Then, at Helena's comment, he cracks a smile and looks up at the girl. "Don't get me started on dreams," Peter says with a laugh, resting his head back down on the pillow. He's quiet for a while, just enjoying the excuse to have her company, "You did a great job out there tonight, Helena — Really."

Helena doesn't even blink. "Thank you. People forget sometimes, that I'm capable. Claire's really bent on being a leader, or at least being able to say she is. I try not to make a big fuss. I just step up when I need to and don't worry about it otherwise. Anything else is just going to end up with me pulling my hair out." Helena gives him a little nudge, and stretches out alongside him, on top of the covers. "For someone who's such a loner type, you sure seem quick to take charge." It's observation, not a criticism.

Making room when Helena stretches out, Peter watches the girl for a time, laying on his side once she's settled, "That's the kind've person who needs to lead," He says quietly, "People expected it of me. Hiro…" Peter closes his eyes and shakes his head, "Be the one they need, he said to me." His eyes wander, exploring the silhouette of Helena's form in the dark before looking back up to the sound of her voice, "I guess I still believe it, somehow. That I have my gift for a reason… That I'm supposed to do something, to make a difference." His eyes close, tone of voice softening. "I just wish I knew what that was."

Helena lifts her head so she can look at his face. "You're right where you need to be." she tells him firmly. "But I can see where it might be difficult for you to figure out where who you are and the whole…destiny thing begin and end. But it's meant to be, and you don't need to push it. You see what I'm saying?"

Peter looks up at Helena, watching her again with an intent expression. What she says makes sense, and there's a humble look on his face as he looks away from her for a moment, then back up again, "I do," He agrees, "You're right." Peter gently wraps one arm around Helena's waist, both urging her closer to him and moving himself towards her. "I am right where I belong," Finally, he believes it. This time, without hesitation or uncertainty, and he leans over, letting his nose touch to the tip of Helena's, "With you."

Helena gives him an Eskimo kiss, a brief rub of her nose against his. "Cam and Claire are going to kill us." she says, her smile widening. "But right now, no time for love, Dr. Jones. Now you sleep. I'm not kidding about the whole, you get eight hours thing. There's plenty of time to plan for what's coming."

Peter laughs, smiling broadly, "They might, they might…" He lays his head down, close to Helena, "Sleep is, actually, all I want." His voice is quiet, gentle, "Thanks, Helena…" Peter leans his head against her, keeping one arm around her waist, just holding her where he lays. "…For trusting me." His hand lightly brushes across Helena's back, a tired, heavy sigh escaping his fatigued form. He had put forth a great effort tonight, but to what end Peter had no idea. But for now, none of that matters. For now, he can finally sleep again.


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September 13th: Art Crawl!
Previously in this storyline…
Art Crawl!

Next in this storyline…
Calm Before the Storm

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September 13th: I Want to Ride My Bicycle
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