Participants:
| Scene Title | Push and Pull |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Helena works out late into the night, and Peter decides to find something to fight for. |
| Date | September 10, 2008 |
Condemned Tenement: Training Room
Helena is not without some training. Having been with PARIAH for some time now, she's at least learned how to handle herself in a scrape, as it might be put in a Dickens novel. One of the apartments, the one generally reserved for common use, has a body bag set up in the spare bedroom, as well as free weights. Helena is in a tank top and a pair of yoga pants, her in a braid down her back. She's focused on the bag, punching and kicking it as the battery powered dock for her mp3 player blares heavy guitar riffs and Buckcherry's suggestive lyrics. It won't be hard for Peter to find her, even if he didn't pull one of the tricks out of his hat, an inquiry to one of PARIAH's loitering membership would direct him to her easily.
At the hour of the evening that it is, this much activity in the building isn't hard to miss. Peter isn't specifically looking for Helena when he comes up the stairs, walking back to his apartment, covered in sweat and paint, but hearing the music from her iPod and the sound of fists striking canvas, the noise of Helena's harsh sounds coming with each punch, Peter stops. Hesitating by the doorway, something Claire said lingers in his mind, and he watches her for a short time from the doorway.
Looking down at his feet for a moment, Peter presses a hand to his forehead and laughs to himself, contemplating something before slowly walking into the room. He looks grubby, for certain, they're quite the pair at the moment. Peter is still dressed in the white tanktop he wore in the basement, looking sweaty from working in a confined space with the boiler and furnace running. Paint is smeared across the tanktop and his skin, with a big swath of red streaked across his forehead, with some of the same color across the back of his right hand. He makes his way over to the iPod dock quietly, then rolls his finger over the wheel of the iPod, turning the volume down. "Working on making being deaf one of your powers?" He cracks a smile, straightening as he folds his arms, looking Helena up and down with a crooked smile.
Helena was in her zone, man! She whirls, but upon seeing who's there, she rolls her eyes and grins, self-consciously wiping at the sweat collected at her forehead. Rolling her shoulders and padding from foot to food so she doesn't kink up after all that exertion, she moves over to the bottle next to the dock. "Peter," she says breathily, "You look like you've been attacked by Picasso. Warm up for tomorrow's outting?" She keeps her eyes on him as she uncaps the top and takes a careful sip.
"Something like that," Peter says with a smile, quickly clearing the distance between the two, "I went downstairs to pick up the paint supplies, see what we had — and I just sort've lost it down there." He rubs at his forehead, motioning over his shoulder towards the boiler room door, "You can check it out, I don't have a clue what to make of it," He grimaces, "It isn't pretty." Peter lets his eyes wander Helena for a moment, distractedly.
"Claire and I had a talk about a few things," He motions around the room, "Probably didn't hear us yelling with the music on. But, we've got it all worked out…" Something plays at the corner of Peter's lips, a twisted smile, "She was concerned about one thing, though… Something she said to me?" There's simply no way he can't let it be said, "See, we were talking about losing people, and about what we'd do if Claire wasn't around… and I jokingly asked her what you'd do without Claire's wardrobe to borrow from, right?" He lets his wonder hang in the air, observing Helena's reactions…
Helena looks momentarily confused, "Well, I'd be inconsolable without Claire." She cocks her head to the side, sensing his need to continue, and clearly not sure as to what he's expecting her to expect. As such, she expectant about what he's expecting her to expect. It's very simple. See?
"Well, see," Peter smiles, walking around Helena and towards the punching bag, and also ensuring that he's out of her immediate arms reach so that he doesn't become the punching bag, "She said you'd be able to borrow your wardrobe from other people," He rolls one shoulder, "Something about wanting to get into my pants?" He starts to laugh, cracking an enormous smile as he looks back around, raising one brow as he looks back to the young girl.
Helena's brows hit her hairline, and she takes a breath…and then a long swig of water. "Well," she says, as she wipes her mouth and sets down the bottle. "You are a tall dark emo drink of water, Peter. We already had a part of this conversation. But you told me that you're all conflicted, and I told you it's not a race, and for that matter, I love her to death, but it's none of Claire's business. What exactly are you asking me?" She too walks to the body bag, standing on the opposite side of it and tilting a bit to look around it as she speaks with him, eye to eye.
Deflating a little, Peter frowns somewhat and tilts his head to the side, "I was hoping you'd turn bright red, maybe…" He seems playfully disappointed, "Have a bit of a fit, punch me?" He grins slightly, "You're all serious and business-like," Peter shakes his head as he walks around the body-bag to stand next to Helena, settling his weight on one foot as he folds his arms, watching her curiously. Though, the latter bit of what she has to say makes Peter become somewhat introspective, shaking his head and letting his eyes drift from the blonde, down to the floor. "There's not much to be confused about anymore, actually." There's a little disappointment, he's doing his best to hide it, "Things… didn't exactly work out." He looks back over to Helena, managing a smile again. "Trying not to make it drizzle." He adds with a half-smirk, "So far so good, right?"
Helena's brows settle, and then one upraises again. (Somewhere, a network exec is shouting, "My god! Seyfreid Spockbrows almost as well as Quinto!") "So that makes me what, the booby prize? Missed out on the prime rib, settling for the broil?" She adds slyly, "I could punch you still, if it'll make you feel better."
"Hey." Peter says sternly, "It's not like that," He honestly seems a bit hurt by the suggestion, "It's just, things happened first with her, and…" He shakes his head, not even seeming like he understands it all. "It wouldn't have been fair to her if… if I didn't at least give it a chance. She's not going to do that, though, I don't think. I kind've ruined that with my indecision…"
He affords Helena a faint smile. "You're probably swatting away guys with tornados, though," Peter says with a nervous grin. "I don't know what it means," He finally admits, looking down at the paint on one of his hands, "I… You're different." His tone of voice becomes a bit more gentle. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel anything, I do. But it's more than just…" He can't place it all into the proper words, "It's more than just feelings, there's this… pull." He motions towards Helena with one hand, and closes his fingers, trying to pantomime what he's expressing. "You can punch me now, I'm not making sense…" He shakes his head, laughing nervously.
Helena leans her cheek against the body bag and looks up at him through her lashes. "Not going to punch you." she says with a shrug. "But here's the thing. This ball is totally in your court. You're the one with things to sort out, and I don't mind waiting to see what happens. Of course," she adds frankly, "That doesn't mean I'm putting my life on hold for you. There's PARIAH and its goals to think of. Other people to be concerned about." She pushes off the body bag. "You feel a pull, but you don't seem willing to start tugging yet. When and if you are…" she gives a shrug, a surprisingly gentle smile, before adding more firmly, "I'm going to have to talk to Claire, though. Whatever I do or don't do about it is none of her business, and she's been seriously unhinged lately. I think she's scared but I don't know exactly of what. She's so angry lately." She shakes her head, amusement about their conversation turning into something worried.
"She's feeling useless," Peter says quietly, walking over to stand close to Helena, "She's doubting herself, all that… I tried to talk to her tonight, I think she feels like she has to prove she's not useless to us." Reaching out, Peter lays a hand on Helena's shoulder, smiling warmly. "Odd as it may seem, I'm kinda' scared myself. There's a good chance that if I have to go up against Sylar, I might not make it out in one piece…" He doesn't bother to elaborate, "Kind've puts a perspective on things. I… Last night I was going to tell her, the one I was confused over?" Peter arches a brow, "Didn't get the chance, so… that boat's come and gone." He looks at Helena, then moves to slide his hand down to her waist to urge her over, to be the one to pull her in. "I don't want that regret twice."
"If you have to face Sylar," Helena says as she's tugged, "It won't be alone. And Claire's wrong. I hope I can convince her of that." She adds mock-solemnly, "And while you have wonderful pants, I don't quite think they'd fit me."
 September 10th: War Torn |
Previously in this storyline… Next in this storyline… |
 September 11th: Family |