La Vigilia di Natale


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Scene Title La Vigilia di Natale
Synopsis What with nearly having had her head chopped in half and all that, Abby's Christmas Eve is somewhat less festive than the fete she had been preparing and buying groceries for. Her roommate — the one who isn't in a coma — comes to accompany her, because staring at the one who was in a coma was kind of creepy. And he was worried. For what turns out to be good reason.
Date December 25, 2008

Abby, Alexander, and Teo's Apartment, The Bronx

It's not overly spacious, It's a New York area apartment. But it suits it's residents' purposes. An open kitchen, crammed with all the accoutrements needed to cook, a dining table shoved against the far wall with chairs tucked in. A living room with a fairly new red suede couch shoved up against a window and TV set opposite on a stand makes up the rest of the communal living area. It looks fairly newly occupied and the personal touches not put to it yet. Five doors down a hall lead to three seperate bedrooms, a bathroom and linen closet. What's behind the doors remains a mystery unless one of the residents leaves a door open, though if someone knows the residents, the simple gold cross above one door indicates where the woman in this place lives.

Early morning, Christmas Morning. Windows are locked, curtains drawn, no lights on save for the glow from the TV. Doors locked, every single one and Abby's hunkered on the couch. She's in her head ot toe flannel as always, blanket wrapped around her, head on the arm of the couch. The blonde hair's spilled across the arm of the red couch, the Grinch on TV, Jim Carrey's reciting something.

He'd called ahead, unwilling to disturb her solitude if she insisted on having it. Unwilling to disturb most things, though Teo had been in a bit of a fluster at first, thinking the day had been on-schedule when he saw her at the cathedral and walked her back to the library, despite that she'd forgotten a thing and had to run out again. Alexander's box of loot is with Alexander now, though coma boy himself continues to remain unavailable for comment. Teo had felt like something of a creep, watching him sleep.

And the other thing he felt was panic, upon realizing Abby was late. He'd sounded concerned on the phone in that politely minimalistic way of his, careful not to crowd.

The key grates in the lock, and he pushes his way in through the door with a scuffle of dense cloth and thick boots. "Ciao, bella. I put everything back in the fridge," he says. His jacket peels loose, and he throws it over the back of a chair in the same stride that takes him around to see her face, perched as it is on the end of the couch. "I don't think you bought anything that was going to go bad overnight."

"I thought there'd be more people there. I forget most of them have family." It's that impossibly small voice. That I've have a bad day voice. There's no evidence on her forehead of what happened. It's been healed, and clean. There's dark strand of hair though, sections of it, that frame the sides of her face. A speck or two here that was missed. Not to mention her jacket which has been hastily stuffed in the sink. "You didn't have to come, Teo."

Concern. In that politely minimalistic way of his, because Teo never wants to crowd. He drops into a squat near her head, and his eyes hunt those subtle discolorations out of the darkness despite the misleading, changing colors that shine out of the Grinch. "There were some people," he answers, though it takes him a moment too long to do so because, evidently, his mind had been elsewhere. "I wasn't the only one who noticed you were gone. Not to stroke your ego," a fragment of a grin, "but I don't think I was the only one who wanted to come, either.

"Are you all right, tesor— dear?" Bad day means he isn't going to Italian all over here, even if he personally thinks the fondisms sound better in the tongue he was born to. Out of his peripheral, he sees the bathroom door ajar but he doesn't turn his head.

"I will be." It's simply answered. "Couldn't go to the Library in case he was following. Can't lead him right to the smorgasborg of powers can I? I went to the Nite Owl, got some help, and came home." She figures she doesn't really need to elaborate why the library would be a smorgasborg. Only one person would consider the hive of evolved anti-terrorists, or terrorists a buffet. "Came home, and I'll be okay. So tired Teo, but I'll be okay. You need sleep."

Despite or because it's dark, Teo really looks it when he goes white. It doesn't take him too long. Ethan's cell and its individual rostership has been on his mind for awhile, and Sylar is a threat that has never really let his mind, what with the occasional late night panicky phonecalls, false alarms, true ones.

"I can't sleep yet," he says, at length. "My bio-clock is going around in cycles like glowstick tricks at a rave pre-'99, and I'm not tired enough. Do… do you want to talk about what happened?" The question is spoken a little blankly, like he can't imagine she does, but he'd be remiss not to ask. Teo closes his teeth on the tips of his glove fingers and hauls 'til one hand is free, warm, reaching over to push her hair back.

Not a trace of what used to be there, her forehead smooth as it always is. Jsut the lingering splashes of red in her blonde tress's "No. I want to watch this movie, and I want to pretend it didn't happen. I want to pretend a lot of things Teo. Just sit and watch the movie with me. And get your gun." The shotgun was near the couch and the box of shells for it beside it. "So if he finds me here you can shoot him. He doesn't seem to like bullet wounds."

The fingers that soothe the yellow locks of Abby's hair away aren't audacious enough to try and comb through the haemoglobin scabbed there, lest it catches and snags against her scalp or imposes more physical intimacy than the near-victim of a recent decapitation would prefer. He just assures himself that she's all her bright skin and the seat of her sanity intact, makes sure she can see. "That's a good extrapolation.

"Most don't." His mouth goes crooked with a smile and he straightens, reaches back to the small of his back to locate the .45. Which he recently bought himself a holster for, but old habits die hard. He shuffles crabwise, and deposits his butt on the floor in front of the couch, ceding the shotgun a comfortable amount of space.

He decides not to mention — or remind her, that Sylar had redicted six rounds out of Elisabeth's handgun into Trask's body, once. Merely gets his handgun out, sets his back against the cushions near her knees. "Is the Grinch the protagonist or the villain?"

"I don't know. I've never seen it." She's never seen alot of stuff that deals with TV. She sneaks a hand out from under the blanket and settles it on Teo's shoulder. Sneaks it in there as a last thought, letting it curl around his sweater and keep him close. "I'm alive" That's struck her a few times. "I prayed to god, and he sent someone. Something, and I'm alive."

More than one sweater, probably: his shoulder's softer than Teo normally is. He hunkers his arm up when he notices that touch, turns his head and puts his chin on top her fingers, a brief squeeze of affection accompanied by a warm curl of breath out of his big Finnish nose, a ghostly trace of a smile and a steady stare.

Different types of warmth. The Grinch gets a head-shot about then, painting the side of his face green. He doesn't really pay attention to the Grinch, nor to what would perhaps be the practical reaction to receiving this news. Who saved her; how to reevaluate the situation to prevent future error. He says, "I'll thank Him tonight before I go to sleep. For saving you. I'll write it on my arm so I don't forget."

"I'll never forget." She's not going to, not anytime soon. It only strengthens something inside her, that in a moment of crisis, God answered. "Tell me about the story, Teo." The television special. "I'm sorry if I fall asleep. I healed him, before I knew it was him. I healed him a lot." That should have been the clue, nobody has such massive injuries like that and is still alive.

Not nobody, but not many. Teo's frame tightens enough for the young woman to tell through her hand and the shape of him limned by the television's changing glow. Fear, mostly. He tries not to judge. He's always tried not to judge. If he didn't think some beliefs were worth dying for, he would be in a different line of work. "I think the Grinch is trying to ruin Christmas," he says, after a moment. "He's stealing all the trees. It's good we don't have one, I guess.

"I…" he trails off after a moment, unable to repress the notion. It bursts out of him, nothing ostentatious or emphasized or particularly loud: like a soap bubble, sort of. "I kind of wish you hadn't done that." He doesn't say it because he figures it'll change a damn thing, but because it's true. On Christmas, you tell the truth. "I'll tell you how it ends if you go to sleep."

"Wish I hadn't either Teo," is her grave confession. "But I did. And there's nothing I can do about that. Not now. Next year, we'll have a tree. I promise. Next year" She catches his ear with her finger, rubbing it before settling in for the long wait till proper christmas morning. "We'll go to the library after. We'll open presents there. See if Al's woken up yet."

'Next year' seems like a long way away. Teo nods, with a reasonable facsimile of certainty. "Next year. Uhhh," his expression goes mock-furtive momentarily, eyes rounder, shifting left then right, as if the walls might betray him. "Yours might be a few hours late.

"Your present, I mean. I hope that's okay. Timing was a sensitive issue. A little." He uncorkscrews the twist of his spine after a momentary discomfort, puts his elbow on the couch and tilts his head at her face. Remembers then, finally, to start working his boots off in a clumsy bump and thump of rubber, kicking them off because he's to lazy to fold his knees up and manage with his hands. "I hope he wakes up soon. Not altogether encouraging for the festive spirit, coma guy in the back."

"I'll just hold yours ransom. That's all." There's a smile, small, finally coming to the fore. "Glad you came. He'll wake up. I'm sure of it. Have faith" Abby's still grinning as she closes her eyes, pulls her feet in towards herself and makes room on the couch for Teo. He had a right to be on here as well. She didn't need the whole of it. "Good morning Teo." Instead of good night.

Teo has a tendency toward the floor. She'll probably step on him on the way to the bathroom at some point before she awakens, honestly. By then, her jacket will be out of the sink and sort of scrubbed, hanging on the towel rack. There will be food parked in the microwave. Until that particular time, Teo is a hand on her shoulder, a click of gunmetal and a verbal assurance above the level of the couch, his voice familiar even if his face has been blacked out by her eyelids.

"You are cruel and unusual, ragazza," he's saying, his tone light as the sluggish fall of precipitation outside. "But I accept your terms. I will take it on faith; that's one thing I don't generally have trouble with." If only by cheating in keeping exceptionally low expectations. "A do—" He catches himself. "See you later."

December 24th: Strangers in the Park
December 25th: Mysterious Ways
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