Participants:
| Scene Title | From Day One |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Fate pushes Peter and Abby together as partners on Unit 59, for St. Lukes and it can only get better. Or worse. Depends on how you look at it. |
| Date | February 19, 2010 |
Streets of Morningside Heights
Morning traffic looks remarkably busy in these early hours of the day, thick flakes of snow falling from heavily clouded skies in a light and picturesque scene. At the ambulance bay of St.Luke's hospital, a plow truck comes scraping down West 64th Street, and the parking ban has left the sidewalks clear of parked vehicles as dirty brown-gray slush is heaped up onto the curb to replace the once pristine freshy fallen snow. Pale yellow light still shines from the parking lot streetlights overhead, the sky dim enough in its overcast haze to turn those automatic lamps on, and beneath them a single ambulance rests silently, just inside of the garage bay doors.
A taxi isn't a typical site, not out back of the hospital. The yellow cab pulls up to the curb, and its passenger gets out in a bit of a hurry, tapping twice on the roof of the cab after closing the rear door, gloved hands tucking in to the pockets of his jacket as he looks up at the snow-filled skies at the higher floors of St.Luke's.
Eight-thirty in the morning is late for the first shift belonging to this particular Paramedic, a half an hour late on the first day of his job. Huffing out a distracted and somewhat exasperated breath, Peter Petrelli shakes his head to the side, sending his bangs away from his brow as he treads along the salted driveway up towards the ambulance garage doors.
There's no telling who his partner is going to wind up being, but he's hopeful about one thing — that she's forgiving of tardiness.
Maybe she is. Maybe she isn't. Most people wouldn't get to know but Peter might since his partner is currently present with her back to him, blonde hair up in a braid that's then pinned in a bun. -ime to find a dress. Send Teo to get one and hope he doesn't come back with something suitable for white trash, Lord on high I should have just canceled for sure. Need cat food, birdseed is getting low but that can wait till next paycheck oh god, what is that.. stain did they not clean this thing? Oh. Well. Not dirty. Should call Momma, see if she needs anything, have to stock the fridge for her- Seems like he's got a partner with a busy mind when he gets close enough.
Female, slim build, jacket on and a fresh new dry cleaned uniform that by the end of the day may need to be switched out for a second one. Even the boots are shined on the toes. Peter's EMT partner, to his paramedic. His driver and who knows what else. Fresh from the farm at least. //Where is he? Heavens, I hope he doesn't make this a habit. Can only think what he'll be like on a call" Abigail hops up into the back of the ambulance, reaching for a drawer to look in it and thereby giving him a side profile of someone that Peters met on a very very few occasions.
Abigail Beauchamp.
White? Won't be too hypocritical would it? Not black, black just.. no black. I could do a red but I'd look like some Jezeble. Lord Roberts gonna take one look and just pretend he doesn't know me. I need Xiu to get rid of the wings. Maybe getting telepathy wasn't such a smart idea.
Rolling his tongue over the inside of his cheek the way one might assess a particularly mischevious raccoon ferreting through their trash, Peter stares into the back of the ambulance, arms crossed over his chest, eyes half-lidded and brows raised. He takes a few more steps closer to the back of the ambulance, reaching up to knock three times on the inside of one of the doors, lips crooked up into a lopsided smile. "Sorry I'm late…" Comes the familiar voice from behind that southern belle.
"I had to take a detour on the Ferry," comes the double-entendre with a snorted laugh, "and now— you know I'm not even sure what to make of this." Shaking his head and smiling, Peter folds his arms and leans against the inside of the door.
"Looks like we meet again." Peter says with a crook of one brow up, and for all the similarities in his voice, there's so much of him that is so far removed from the possessed man Abigail had last seen him as.
Abigail freezes like said proverbial racoon who's been caught red handed and furry paw'd holding that piece of trash from the gleaming silver can's of garbagey goodness. Only with less black mask and ringed tail.
Or chance of rabies
"Peter… Petrelli" It's not spoken with any sort of negativity, dismay or even dislike. Well, I know it's not Kazimir. 'So you're my partner, or well, I guess I'm your partner" The drawer is closed tight and she eases out from the back of the ambulance to wipe her hands on her pants and stand before him almost like waiting for inspection.
Lord on high, this is just strange. Teo's going to choke. Francois's going to ch- oh heaven, Deckards gonna try and kill him. Maybe. Maybe "This is a surprise. Really. I uhh, I didn't know you were, you know, a paramedic. Actually.. I uhh.. I didn't know- well no, well yes well… oh blank" I'm screwing this up.
"I'm Abigail Beauchamp and this is my first day and I really really really don't want anyone to die on my first day. Really. I'm having a very bad week and could use a day of just, you know, healing folks. well you know not that kind of healing, I can't do that anymore, which of course you know, I mean of course you know because you were-"
Because both of them died in Mexico. It's all gone and Lord where is Flint. I hope he's not in some ditch, i'll kill him if he's in some ditch, well of course, he'd be dead already but.
"Well, you're not that anymore because that's gone and… I am embarrassing myself, aren't I" She wrings her hands, one in the other nervously.
There's so much going on inside of her head, it's hard to get a grip on everything that's rattling around. Closing his eyes and holding up one hand, Peter manages something of a rueful smile and just recoils mentally, retreating inside of his head and shutting out that typically quizzical nature of his that pressures him to eavesdrop on everyone around him. "You— You're… about how I remember you being?" Peter offers a lopsided smile, eyes opening in a squint as he reaches up to rub at the side of his head with one hand. "I ah, I didn't know you were— " he eyes her jacket, then looks back up to her, "I had no idea you had any medical training. I guess, once a healer always a healer, right?"
There's a crooked smile again, and Peter's tucking his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "It suits you…" he offers with a smile, seeming so much lighter than he had when weighted down by Kazimir's ability. "The ah, the EMT jacket. Honestly, sorry I was late, it's been a long morning." He pauses, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he looks Abby up and down. "Wow, I mean— of all the people in this whole city to get paired up with, I just— that's…" There's a snorted laugh, a shake of his head.
"That probably sounds really bad, doesn't it? I'm sorry I just— I never thought— " Now he's making an ass of himself. "I ah, yeah. This— this is sort've what I went to school for before the whole… save the world thing." He grimaces, as if to imply that job didn't turn out so well. "Surprised you recognized me without the old…" he traces his thumb up and down across his face, "couple people didn't. I guess it's a nice change."
"You've met me once" So what kind of impression did she make? It has her puzzled and worried but her thoughts are silent to the other man even as she closes the doors and locks them in preparation for going on duty. "A friend, Conrad, gave me hell about… not doing something with my life other than being a bartender when I had potential. Told me to go to medical school. But you know how it is, when the world is always ending every other weekend and people were calling you at two in the morning to heal" Well actually, no, he probably didn't know.
"When I lost the Lord gift, I… went for what would still hopefully give me the same…" Satisfaction? Feeling of accomplishment? Doing gods work? "Something that would still let me help people. We'll see if it suits me though. I've been going to school at nights. I had to pull out for Russia but I was able to get back in and finish it off. I think it's my name that got me in truthfully, thinking I could still heal and it's okay, I mean, it's the first day, well my first day. If I talk too much Peter, just tell me to shut up. Really. Or shove a coffee in my face. Either seems to do the trick"
But the mention of the scar just draws blonde brows down. "No, it's just a scar. it's not like it render you unrecognizable. I mean.. You're still.. Peter. They must need glasses or something. So…"
So. "You ready to save some lives? I mean, not the same as saving the world. I think it's a little tamer and with far less bodily injury and monks cells and all that"
Laughing with that crooked smile, Peter shakes his head and looks from his feet up to Abby. "You make a strong first impression…" he admits with a nod of his head, offering up a hand towards her to help her down out of the back of the van. Of course it's not necessary, but he's just trying to be chivalrous; after all she's from the South, manners are important! "It's good, you know, not being beholden to your ability ot what it made you think about yourself, and not getting so wrapped up in things you can't change that you ruin your life for it."
Smiling a bit less jokingly, Peter considers Abby for a moment, brows furrowed together. "Saving lives sounds like a great idea… I think I could use a change from the way my old job used to be. So," he turns that gloved hand of his palm up towards her, "why don't we go make a difference in someone's life?"
Some people still wish they had their ability. Other people have their ability still. She watches him for a few moments and maybe if he'd still had his telepathy not on lock down, he's know what was going on behind her blue eyes when he cites those words to her. But whatever it is, she just nods, digging the ambulance keys from out of her pocket. "Slow poke gets shotgun, I'm driving right now" Punishment it seems and his hand isn't taken. He doesn't her well enough and she doesn't know him well enough - Not yet at least - to warrant taking his hand casually. "THough, it's my understanding that right now, we just wait till we get a call and then I do what you tell me to"
"Looking down at his hand with a momentary look of scrutiny, as if worried he'd put it in something offensive, Peter rube his forefingers and thumb together and then tucks it back into his pocket after a moment of oh right used to kill with a touch dances through his head; because that makes the most sense. "We can make a difference in the life of a Dunkin Donuts drive-through attendant's life then," Peter admits, closing the back doors of the ambulance with a crooked smile before headed around to the passenger side door and bringing it open, climbing up inside.
Leaning against the closed door, Peter waits for Abby to come up intot he driver's seat, cracking a smile as he sees the tiny blonde behind the wheel of the great big ambulance. "You know I don't think we ever really properly spoke, you know— back when we met. I wasn't… I guess I wasn't really myself back then." Resting his elbow against the door just inside the passenger side window, Peter braces his fingers against the side of his head. "You still running that bar on the bad side've town?"
"How can you drink from that place? Coffee is so bad for you. But I can drive by one if you want so you can have your breakfast" She'll have a donut too, it's southern thing, but they will be stopping at a Juice it up so that she can get her swamp sludge.
The rig is bigger than her SUV and she's not that small. Really, she's 5'7 and not that out of place. Seatbelt on, and key in engine, she starts backing out after making sure no ones in the way. "The shithole as someone in the bar called it? I do. Managed to survive not burning down while I was gone. Though they changed the wallpaper. Dead bartenders don't seem to drive people away though" She looks over towards him, shifting gears on the steering column and heading out. Radio scanner turned on check, everything they'll need, check. "And no, we haven't. Usually I was cleaning up your messes and making sure they lived" She points out. "Listen, I'm sorry I didn't shake your hand. I don't.. like to touch people which makes no sense in this job, but it's different to touch someone socially, or to heal them, than it is to touch them to try and fix them. It's still habit."
She offers a smile regardless though to the other man. "Really, what are the odds? I mean, I figured that I'd get Johan right, since he got hired here as well. He was hoping to be my partner. But, I have you. Not that that's a bad thing, really. Maybe. Possibly. Okay, i'm gonna shut my mouth now cause i'm just shoving my foot all the way down to my appendix aren't I"
"How's that sneaker taste, anyway? I bet you a coffe'd be one better." Peter questions with a crooked smile, snorting out an amused laugh and shaking his head. "Breakfast doesn't sound like a bad idea, I didn't get a chance to make anything to eat. Friend of mine in the Ferry needed some stuff brought down to her, so I had to make a special detour all the way out to Midtown for her." Drumming the fingers of his other hand on his thigh, Peter glances out the front window of the parked ambulance, considering the movement of other EMTs and medical personnel out the window.
"What're the odds of anything in our lives happening. I mean, when I start telling people about the things I've done— out loud— I sound like a crazy person. We sorta' lived charmed lives, and I guess being here as paramedics, it's making the best of it." Furrowing his brows, Peter offers Abby a relieves smile. "You know, it's nice… having someone I work with that I can mention things like, the Ferry or the Company, and they'll know what I'm talking about. I guess it makes conversation easier than just… weather and local sports."
For all that he wants a normal life, Peter still seems to find ways to pull himself backt o those old mainstays.
"Know how many people wanted to commit me for saying I'm a faith healer?" Satisfied that they're ready to go, they go, heading out and away from their hub to find fried dough, coffee and sludge. "Doesn't feel so charmed lately. Team Charlie seems to have a few loose ends that no one thought about and they're slowly going through our families one by one Peter. I'd hardly call seeing ones childhood home in ashes a charmed life. Unless you count that my parents got out in time charmed" She has to think about that.
"Okay, yes, charmed life. at points." She looks over at him. "Says the son of one New yorks high ladies and the brother of the president. But yeah. It makes conversation much easier. Don't have to skip around the 2 am phonecall that you get from the ferry looking for you to come stitch some folks up"
And for all that Abby doens't try to deliberately seek out trouble, it seems to root her out and bend her over at times. "Krispy Kreme do? Or does it have to be a dunkin?"
"Whatever's closer," Peter admits with a flippant wave to the windshield as he eyes the tail lights and falling snow out the front of the ambulance. More to the point, he angles a look across the cab to Abby, considering her a bit more seriously for a moment. "The whole family thing… I was never really a part of that. My brother an I've got— I don't even know if issues covers it entirely. Mostly I'm just trying to be there for my mom, she had a spot of bad luck last summer, and I just— it's easy to push family away when they piss you off or so something remarkably stupid. It's hard to be the one who stays there and sees things thorugh and tries to make a difference, you know? But somebody told me once," and he won't really say that it was Kazimir, "Everyone knows the right thing to do, the hard part is doing it." Peter smirks slightly at that notion. "Someone said it before that, I figure, but it's still good advice."
He leans back in his seat, gloved hands folding in his lap, brown eyes angled downward. "This… thing with your family," Peter's eyes drift back towards Abby, "have you gone to the authorities about it yet? I mean— I'm not trying to tell you what to do, I just— " he just deals with a lot of paranoid people who don't trust the police.
"I guess that I keep forgetting that not everyone was raised like myself. I seem to think mine is the only functional family in the world. Though, our abject faith in the lord makes folks think that we are crazy so… Just so long as you're there, when it counts. ANd that's good advice, doing the right thing. Matthew Parkman and I shared those same sentiments. Sometimes the hardest thing to do, is the right thing. It might not be fair and it might not be good but it's what's right"
Krispy kreme is frankly closer and she can see the sign for one ahead. Though there's no lit sign that screams hot from the oven. "I did. They knew the past few weeks. Agent Parkman, CIA Homeland, FBI. There's.. I wouldn't be surprised frankly if there's not a cop car somewhere behind us. Matthew's paranoid and for good reason. They're trying to solve the issue" She flickers her eyes towards him then back to the road. "Skoll survived"
"You— " Peter's brows furrow, and that look of surprise that settles in matches the halting cadence of his speech. "You know Matt?" Peter snorts out another laugh and shakes his head, brows raised and eyes closed. "It really is a small world, I guess. He's… He and I have some past history that doesn't really mesh well together. We've had our differences, and— you know we said and did things we regret. I don't talk to him anymore, but I think we're— " He actually has to pause and think about it, "I figure we're good if I'm not in jail." That's a comforting thought.
"Skoll?" Peter arches one brow, looking like he's trying to remember some elusive detail from a dream. "Russian, yeah I— " Peter snorts out a laugh, "He's a sick fucker, from what I remember. Just— " there's a wave of one of Peter's hands to the side of his head, "damaged. I trust the government to be able to track him down eventually though. He's just one guy, and the Vanguard's gone… there can't be that many more people out there to try and turn to for help."
Breathing in deeply, Peter exhales a slow, strained sigh. "Hey, did yuo hear anything about some people going into Detox down with the Ferrymen? I— I don't really pay much attention to the bulletins, I'm hardly ever at one of their safe-houses. But when I was down at Grand Central, there were a bunch of people getting medical care and I think I heard them talking about Methadone. You have any idea what's up with that?"
"I know Matt. He's a good man, and doing the best that he can do with what he's been given and he has a good heart" Abigail rises to defend him. "His hair's gone grey and I worry that the worlds weighing on his shoulders. I felt bad telling him about Skoll's love note and everything but…" It's something that had to be done.
"Down in the terminal? Yeah uhh.. best I've managed to hear is that they broke them out of some illegal refrain experiment that a company employed shrink was doing. They had Pastor Sumter and Kaylee. They brought them all down there since it's about the biggest place and sanitary. Methadone though" She'd heard murmurings too. "I would suppose they need methadone to help with the drug cravings. I was down there the other day, but through the sheer grace of god and permission from Matthew to disappear for a few hours. Joseph was asking for me and I'm not one to turn away a man who means a great deal to me. I haven't been able to go down there though beyond that. was back home and well.. I have people keeping an eye on me. Wouldn't do good to lead them traipsing through midtown"
She pulls into the drive through, barely squeaking the ambulance through so that she can lean out the window to the order box and place her order and after consultation with peter, his as well. "My treat"
Peter cracks a smile, nodding his head once. "Company? Like… proper noun?" There's a mild darkening to his expression, jaw working from side to side as he nods his head. "I'll talk to my mother about it," he offers in quiet grousing, folding his arms across his chets as she's handling the order at the drive-through window. But then, crackling over the radio between the pair of them a soft-tone beep followed by a voice signals an abrupt end to breakfast.
«All vehicles in the vicinity of Manhattan we have a traffic collision at the intersection of 1st Street and Central Park South, please respond.»
A sharp breath exhales from Peter as he leans forward and takes a hold of the radio, looking over to Abby with a raise of his brows and a crooked smile. "You know maybe I will consider that charmed life comment," he offers to the blonde before squeezing down on the microphone receiver to respond to the call.
It's going to be a good first day.