Participants:
| Scene Title | How Do You Feel About Waffles? |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Helena and Peter catch each other up, and Peter asks an important question. |
| Date | May 21, 2009 |
Birds and the ocean.
There's so many worse sounds to wake up to.
Sunlight falls in amber-hued rays through uncurtained windows facing where the Hudson River lets out into the Atlantic, towards the azure blue skies, a cool sea breeze and the sounds of gulls. Breathing in a slow, content breath, Peter Petrelli slowly rolls off of his back to his side, turning away from the windows to wrap on ebare arm around the other slender figure laid tangled in loose sheets beside him.
There's worse things to wake up to, and it feels now like those mornings of waking to nothing but stress and violence are just a distant memory, even if this is only the eye of the storm. Leaning his head close, Peter's nose presses into blonde hair, eyes drift shut as he breathes in the scent of her skin through her hair, one hand moving down along her bare side beneath the cover of the sheet.
"'Morning," Peter murmurs into Helena's hair, followed by a gentle press of lips to the side of her head as he props himself up on his elbow, tracing fingers across her cheek to pull back hair away from her face. It feels like time has wound back, like the last six months have been all but a dream, and everything is the way it used to be. It feels as though all of the hardships and deaths might have just gone away, but it's that lacking sensation nagging in the back of his mind, the emptiness where there should be a connection to the woman at his side through her ability, that reminds him that this isn't the perfect morning.
But there are worse things to wake up to.
There was so much to get used to. Reacquainting themselves with each other - to each other. She'd laughed at him a little at his shock over her tattoo, loved him a bit more for his distress at the sight of her bullet scar. But reacquaint they did, in the happiest of ways. Days are filled with problems, small ones and big ones looming over their heads; nights are theirs.
She lets out a soft sigh, shifts a little when she feels his hand on her skin as lashes slowly open to look at him and smile. "G'morning." she says in a voice still husky from sleep. She starts to sit up, yawning again behind her hand.
"The apocalypse happened while you were asleep," Peter notes with a sarcastic smirk, "I told the horsemen to wait outside." Letting that smirek turn into a grin, Peter leans forward and presses another kiss to Helena's forehead, before raking his fingers through her hair as he sits up, letting the sheets slide down off of his chest as he does. Every time Helena sees the new scars on his body, it's a reminder of just how mortal he is now, without his abilities. The injuries caused by Allen Rickham so prevailent on his back and side.
"I think I'm going to start looking around for Claude…" There's no real segue into those words, just slipping into them as if they were casual dress. "I… need to get a handle on whatever it is I can do, and… you know, it's high time I see him again." Swinging his legs off of the mattress to the floor, Peter lets both of his hands rake back through his long hair, a relaxed sigh escaping him. "I… guess that's more've a longterm plan though."
It's so hard for him to turn off, to focus on anything other than business lately.
"You need a haircut." she remarks absently, and then, shifting in the bed to face him, sheet wrapped around her and hair in a tumble she says, "And I agree, we really should find Claude. I haven't seen him since the fight with the Vanguard, I hope he's okay. You know he's going to smack the crap out of you when you find him, right?" She's unable to keep from finding that funny as she smiles and shoves her hair out of her face. Scooting to the edge of the bed next to him, she says quietly, "I don't really understand Gabriel's ability very well…but you seem to be managing it so far."
Snorting out a laugh, Peter gives a shake of his head and tugs down at one of his long, unruly locks. "There isn't much to get a handle of, really," the hair is let go to fall down at the side of his face, "It's like I don't even have an ability, it's just— I don't understand what it is he does, and frankly I don't think I want to know. What he did— the way he did things, I just— " Peter exhales a soft sigh and gives a shake of his head, "I do have to talk to him at some point. The three of us need to get our abilities back in order, before Gillian does something…" something left unsaid, apparently.
Turning to afford Helena an askance look, Peter reaches up and lightly brushes her cheek with the back of his hand. "Not really anything I can do today though." Lowering his hand, Peter pushes up from the bed, walking over to the strewn trail of clothing on the floor leading away from the door. He snatches a shirt up, looks at it crookedly, and then tosses it back to Helena. "Yours," he notes off-handedly.
Helena catches it with one hand, unable to keep from snickering about it like she's twelve, but for a moment, more serious. "I'm worried." she confesses. "I mean, I don't know what drove him to do what he did, but maybe you should talk to him. Sylar. I mean, Gabriel." The room she has here in the dispensary has some actual furniture. With actual drawers. The shirt is dumped in a corner and she goes for fresh clothes. While putting them on, her words are occaisionally muffled. "We have uhh…the eight fugitives to think about, I'm still being cautious about Pinehearst, Humanis First, this FRONTLINE thing, and getting back on track with our own original agenda. We're way, way off course and we need to get back on track."
"To be honest I don't even know what that track is anymore, Lena." Pulling up the worn pair of jeans he's been wearing for a few days now, Peter buttons them up and begins the search for his belt, finding it draped over a lamp. "I mean, Phoenix… it— " the buckle jingles as he begins to thread it through the belt loops. "I mean, it… I wasn't around when it got put together, so… I mean, I don't really have any room to say, but why are we together?"
Dark eyes turn to look towards Helena as Peter's hands fumble with the tongue of his belt. "It's like… I spent a few days here at a place called the Garden. I guess— Eve's sister runs it?" He sounds a bit uncertain, "I didn't even know she had a sister or… ah— anyway, the people there were great people. I… Phoenix, I just… I don't know," Peter rubs a hand over his forehead before bending down and scrouncing for his shirt.
"The people at the Garden hardly know what's going on with Phoenix when I asked them. All I heard was that you— we— use their safehouses, but don't really… contribute much back. I mean— we fight, but— " there's a narrowing of Peter's eyes. "Maybe I just… don't understand. I don't know, I— I guess it's kind've… strange," he turns the old white t-shirt right-side out and tugs it down over his head, "I just sort've assumed I'm a part of a group, and… I don't even really know what we stand for."
Helena blinks a little. "You told me you wanted to stay." she says, in faint disbelief. "That you wanted to be part of Phoenix. Did you suddenly change your mind? Obviously it needs rebuilding, obviously its purposes and goals need to be reassessed." She turns around once she's dressed to face him. "So now we're obligated to broadcast what we do to every Ferrymen operative and resource? We don't contribute? Conrad died, Kazimir is dust, and we don't contribute?" She runs a hand through her hair. "This has just been…a holding pattern. I've barely had time to catch my breath. You think I don't know how things have changed, how we've all changed?" She purses her lips, frowning. "The plan," she says quietly, "Was to figure out all the major concerns, determine what we had the power to address, and what we couldn't. To get back to what we were originally doing - furthering the cause for the freedom of the Evolved. Reorganizing, reminding the public of our presence, recruiting again. I'm sorry if we're not working fast enough for you."
Peter hisses out a breath through his teeth, rubbing his fingers at the sides of his head, "Helena you— you're not listening. That's not— " one hand sweeps over his brow, eyeing his boots across the room, but decides to remain barefoot for the time. "Of course I want to be a part of this, I want to help you with what you're doing. I just— I don't know what it is we do."
There's an earnest look of confusion on Peter's face. "I— I wasn't around when Phoenix was formed. Nobody I've talked to really… knows what it is Phoenix stands for. I mean, are we an army? Are we— I don't know," his shoulders slouch a little. "I'm not talking about the battles you fought, about the Vanguard or any of that. No one ever said that wasn't worthwhile, I mean— that's over though, the Vanguard's gone…" he hesitates, "right?"
The question seems mostly rhetorical as he moves to clear the distance between himself and Helena. "This— this isn't about working fast at all, jesus don't— don't get so defensive with me. Okay so— working for the freedom of the Evolved, reorganizing an drecruiting. How're we going to do that? I mean— All I've ever known, personally, is PARIAH. I know you made this to be different, I just— I don't know what Phoenix is."
"We… we obviously have to do something about the people who came back from the future. But what about after that? I mean— the Ferrymen seem so understaffed. They're trying to help people who want to get out of Registration do that, give them cover identities. I just— I don't know what we have to share— Resources, people. They seem like good, honest people. I— I just want to make sure we're not being our own seperate group just— just for the name."
Hesitating a foot away from Helena, Peter almost reaches out for her, then hesitates, biting down on his lower lip. "I never got the sales pitch."
Helena pauses a moment, furrowing her brow. He starts to reach for her and she takes a step forward, but when he hesitates, she also pauses. And then he mentions the sales pitch. "Ah." she says, nodding. This, she understands, and moves to sit next to him. "When you think about PARIAH," she begins quietly, "And you think about what they started to mean, it was any means necessary. Promote the Evolved agenda, despite what harm may come to anyone in their way."
"Phoenix is about promoting the Evolved agenda, not by hurting people, even though we'll act in protection and defense. By showing them what good the Evolved can do, and by showing people that they don't have to be afraid. By encouraging them to take action and take a stand. At least, that's what I wanted Phoenix to be."
Looking down to the bed Helena's sitting on, Peter reaches out to run his fingers thorugh her hair, managing a hesitant smile as he does. "So," his hand turns, brushing knuckles down along her temple to her cheek, "sort've like… an Evolved public-relations group." There's a lopsided smile, and Peter closes his eyes, shaking his head at the joke.
"It's exactly what my dad— " he cuts himself off, fingers curling towards his palm as his hand pulls away from Helena's cheek. "Sorry I— you probably don't want to keep hearing that. I just— It's going to take some time for me to get used to the idea of what you saw in the future. I… I wanted to believe so strongly." Frowning, Peter moves away from the bed, folding his arms across his chest as he breathes in a slow breath. "You know… when you talk about Phoenix like that— like a sort've public face," he turns to regard the blonde over his shoulder, "it really makes me think more and more of how well Cat is suited for the task. I— I don't know, I see so many conflicting things. Phoenix as this… sort've blunt instrument tha beat down the Vanguard, then this dream of being the face of the Evolved. It's… a hard mix."
Rubbing one hand over his temple, Peter slowly turns with a thoughtful look. "I know… it sounds crazy, given what we know about the government, but— has everyone in charge thought about, uh, legitimizing Phoenix? I mean, getting a Registered face for the group, one that can handle activism, get people whipped up for the cause in a legal way? I just— I'm getting tired of fighting. I know… I know I have to, but…" dark brows furrow, and Peter's eyes wander down to the floor. "I'd give anything just to have a normal life again…" those dark eyes track up to Helena. "With you. Somehow. I— " he swallows tensely, "I don't want our life together to— to keep being this constant war. I just…"
Peter's voice drops into a hushed tone, "I'm worried one day I'll lose you, that one day one of us will be without the other one permanently, and— i just— " he sighs, resigning himself as his hsoulders slouch, "I'm worrying too much, aren't I?"
Helena stops dead, and fights with all her might not to tremble at the foreshadowing in Peter's voice. She moves to sit down next to him. "The only way you can get people 'whipped up' legally would be if the government wasn't already acting against the people's interests. No one at Moab got trials. Thirty-five kids killed themselves, almost thirty-six, out of the fear of what it means to be Evolved, and the government hasn't really done a thing. Hiro Nakamura's been delivered to the press as the terrorist responsible for the 2006 explosion. Do you really think we're living in an environment where playing by the rules is going to get us anywhere?"
First it's a raise of one brow at the mention of the children, a somewhat sick expression crosses Peter's face before it just falls away with the mention of Hiro. "They— " Peter's breath is caught in his throat, "Hiro— " eyes wide, Peter covers his mouth with one hand and looks away from Helena, down to the floor with a distant expression. "I… I didn't— " apparently Peter hasn't been watching much television, or talking to many people in the know inside of Phoenix.
"Maybe you're right," he murmurs, staring down at the floor. "But then… what can we do?" Letting his eyes track back up to Helena, there's a sense of uncertainty in them. "If… if we really can't trust my father," and he still sounds dubious about that, "and we obviously can't trust the Company, how… how're we ever supposed to— to stop this? Outside of just going back to what PARIAH was doing," Peter's expression hardens, "and just killing people until someone listens or there's no one left that doesn't share our point of view. How— how can we possibly make this work? Do we just live on the run fo rthe rest of our damned lives?"
Helena points out gently, "You and I are not going to find those answers sitting here. It's going to take all of us. That's why I want to have a meeting, like I said - go through what we know we can do, and what we can't. We'll have some hammered out, concrete goals and directions. And I believe it can be done, but I just need people to be willing to trust that we can do this." She leans to the side, letting her shoulder lean against his. "I'm still willing to listen to your dad, you know. But it's hard for me not see little things…I'm willing to be he was always a domineering man, but the way he spoke to Dr. Ray? He's accustomed to having things his way." Her mouth crooks into an amused smile. "No wonder he was so pissed when you got into nursing."
There's a hesitant smile from Peter there, "Yeah he— really was upset about that." Reaching up to rub a hand at the back of his neck, Peter's expression turns more into a lopsided grimace than anything else. "Maybe there's still a chance that whatever turns my dad into the person you met in the future can be — "
A buzzing sound hums from inside of Peter's jacket, draped over a chair near the bedroom door. One dark brow arches, and Peter turns to head towards the chair, yanking the jacket up before proceeding to pat it down in a hasty search of the many pockets to try and find his phone. With the phone in hand, Peter flips it open and stares down at the number, brows furrowing and head tilting to the side. Exactly when did he finally get a phone?
Pressing a button, Peter brings the phone to his ear. "Yeah? Hey— what's up? I didn't think you were going to call me until— " something cuts Peter off, and his eyes dart over to Helena, his expression is all too telling that something's wrong. Swallowing anxiously, Peter begins walking back over to where Helena's seated. "No I— when? When'd this happen?"
Whatever is said makes Peter exhale a heavy sigh, coming to sit down on the bed beside Helena, staring vacantly at the floor. "I… Alright. No I— No I'm on Staten Island right now," his eyes wander back and forth distractedly. "Yah, yeah I can do that. Do— do you have any idea who— " he winces, then just nods his head. "A— alright. I'll… I'll tell her." The moment of silence that follows comes with an awkward tension before Peter mumbles out, "I— I love you too, Dad," and hands up the phone.
Helena looks at Peter warily, not so much at him as a sort of Oh god, what now? expression. "Something's gone wrong," she asks softly, "Hasn't it?" She's already putting on her shoes. "Go ahead." she says. They'll just have to deal with it.
Laying the phone on the bed, Peter's expression is a difficult one to read, "They— Roger Goodman is dead." The words come with a difficult to express level of remorse, espescially given the weight put on that name in lieu of Helena's return from the future. "I— my father said he only just learned of it, but he thinks that Roger might've been dead for a few days. He— he just stopped communicating with my father, without explanation, the same day you and I showed up at Pinehearst…"
Clenching his jaws, Peter looks up from the floor to Helena. "He— he wanted me to tell you, to make sure you knew. He— he says that Roger hadn't finished compiling hard evidence on the Company yet, he didn't— he was supposed to raid the Company archives the day before we showed up at Pinehearst and… Arthur never heard back from him."
Eyes divert to the phone, and Peter's brows furrow further, "Things are… they're already changing, aren't they?"
Helena bites her lip. "They are." she says. But then, "We may not be out of options. We may have a way to make it back inside the Company, to get what's needed to bring it down. We're…working on it." She starts to pace. "Your father still wants a meeting with our leadership anyway, so obviously he thinks we're not a complete loss. I just…it's hard, with what I've seen. I know you have a hard time for believing me, or maybe it's just hoping for the best, but I'm going to ask you to not get frustrated with me or with Phoenix because I'm choosing to be cautious with him."
"The fall of the Company is something I want to see happen." she says. And there are other things she inevitably doesn't.
"It's— I understand," Peter exhales the words with a heavy sigh, rubbing on ehand over his forehead. "When you get everyone together I— I'd like t be there. I know I've never really been a part of Phoenix, but I'm going to try and change that. I'm going to help," he looks down at his hands and sighs, "what little help I can offer."
Glancing from his hands to the phone, Peter grows quiet for a moment and then offers it up to Helena in one hand for her to copy the number down. "I— don't know how secure it is, but my father gave it to me when we were leaving Pinehearst." Dark eyes view the closed phone, then lift to regard Helena.
"I might need to call you to come rescue me," he says with as best of a joking smile as he can muster.
"Was that a pout?" she asks, taking the phone and moving to get hers - she just transfers the chip with the addresses as she adds in his number. "Were you pouting, Petrelli? There's no pouting in activism!" A pause. "That wasn't quite the quote, was it?" She grins and hands him his phone back, adding cheerily, "It has been more like a fairy tale in reverse, hasn't it? You're Sleeping Beauty, and I'm the Prince." A smirk. "This time when I come to rescue you? Get on the damn horse, okay?" She smiles a little and says, "Are you headed out?" She's a little shy in the asking. "A couple of people have approached me about changing my face - I really, really don't want to." She's vaguely feeling him out for his opinion, yeah.
"I— it was a frown," Peter corrects with a grin before seriously considering her first question. "Out?" He glances towards one of the windows, looking out over the dusty and grimy skyline of Staten Island, then out another window which just views the sea. His brows crease together, head tilting down, "Maybe… I should. Clear my head a little," his eyes track back to Helena, coming with a crooked smirk. "Don't you dare tell Alexander that, he'll never stop calling me Princess."
Despite everything that is going on, it's a sign of hope to be able to joke around, to be able to make light of an otherwise disastrous situation. One thing he won't make light of, though, is what Helena asked last. Something he delayed answering, and as he moves to clear the distance between himself and the blonde, it's clear in his expression that he's taking the decision seriously. "There's… somebody who can do that? I mean— " he waves one hand over his face, "I mean— just like that?" Surgery doesn't even cross his mind, he's pretty certain modern medicine can't quite do that yet without making someone look like Frankenstein.
"I— " Peter sharply exhales a breath he'd been holding in, "I don't know… what— what do you want to do?" One hand reaches up, fingertips tracing the countours of her smile. "You… between a new face, and Hana, you— you could have a new life. A real life." He seems hesitant about the idea. "Would it make you happy?"
"Maybe, I - " she lowers her expression, her skin pressed against his fingers. "Maybe for a little while. It wouldn't be real, though. I mean, with everything going on, where would I go? And I don't think you'd leave anymore than I could, not really. I want my happiness to be truth, and not because I turned my back and hid." She lifts her gaze to him. "It doesn't work. We'll make things better, and then we'll have the life we want, whatever that may be."
For some reason she sees fit to change topics again. "I was thinking - I think Gillian's picked up my atmokinesis. I should probably work with her a bit, help her control it."
There's an awkward topic, and Peter's expression is just a touch telling about it, the way his brows go up and he looks away when Gillian is mentioned. "She— she's got a lot of powers, it's… it's hard for her. I think— I was trying to help her figure them out, how to keep them all under control, but— " he turns away from Helena, folding his arms again. "She's having a hard time with it," of course that's the reason, "I mean, she's still doing better than I did, given what abilities she has…"
Looking over his shoulder to Helena, Peter frowns slightly. "Are— you sure? I mean, I know how things looked when you came back but— I— " he turns away again, not knowing the secret Helena's keeping from him. "We were stranded in Antarctica together, with this girl — Tamara — after the fight at Moab. She— Gillian was really hurt, my powers were all— scrambled. I— we got to spend a lot of time just… talking."
He's trying not to make this sound comprimising, but he's terrible at dancing around the truth. "There's— we're friends." It's hard to say who he's trying to convince. "You just— I know you looked so— I mean if I had known you were…" he sighs, and stops digging himself deeper into the hole he thinks is entirely his fault. "I'm just— surprised. I thought you might be upset at her or— God, I don't know."
Helena closes her eyes a bit. No, this isn't how it's supposed to be. But things are changing, and everything about this feels foreboding, a telegraph of pain to come, and the irony is, she'd almost rather have that meetup with a rebar to the heart. "I'm very close with Alex and Teo, and even Django." she says. "Django and I kept each other going at Moab, he'd sit with me on his side of the fence. We'd talk, and we'd sing." She lifts her gaze. "Let's keep this straightforward and simple. If you have feelings for Gillian, if you're conflicted, don't hide it from me. I'm assuming you're with me because you want to be, and I'll put my trust in that." She clenches her hands a moment and says, "I'd like to think I'm a better person than to be someone who wouldn't help another just because I might feel a little threatened." And that's as close as she comes to actually admitting there's some threat. "But this isn't highschool. And we really can't afford unexpected hailstorms."
That pretty much makes Peter looks a bit taken aback, "I— Nno it's nothing like that at all." His voice almost cracks as he tries to backpedal away from whatever terrible and strange, alien terrain the notion of he and Gillian being together consists of. "We're— hell we're not even really friends, it's— " one eye narrows slightly, "she and Gabriel are— " Peter unfolds his arms, waving both hands back and forth in a no, no, no motion. It's almost comical in the animated nature of it.
"Look I— it's not like that at all, I just— it looked bad when— you know we were on the roof and I just— you got so upset, so I just, I figured— " He's not really sure what he figured. Then, after a moment, Peter arches a brow and tilts his head to the side. "Who's… Django?"
Her relief is so palpable, it's almost equally comical. "I just told you," she says, smiling faintly. "A fellow prisoner in Moab. He went to the future with us. He's been a good friend, but that's all." Her voice is pretty firm on that score. "Listen - we should get some breakfast. And then you should go do whatever it is you need to do. Like I said, if you talk to your dad, tell him that we'll look into seeing if we can arrange for someone to pick up what Goodman left behind, but I'll need a few days to find out." No, she doesn't want him knowing that they have Elle. Another secret kept from him, at least for the present.
"I got the impression that you've been staying here. You know you're welcome to continue. And that way you could help with us pulling everyone together and hammering out our direction. We're working on a clinic room for our new doctor in residence, and he could probably use some help with set up, if you need something to do while you're here, but I'm pretty sure you're going to be working with your dad a lot, especially if it turns out we can work with each other, Pinehearst and Phoenix." Obviously she's still skeptical, but also not unwilling to try.
There's so much to digest, so much to consider doing, so much everything going on. But Peter instead focuses on the one thing that he knows he can handle right now. "So…" his head tilts to the side, brows furrowed in a serious expression, "how do you feel about waffles?"