So Little Time


helena_icon.gif peter2_icon.gif

Scene Title So Little Time
Synopsis Helena tells Peter the news about Cameron.
Date October 16, 2008

Apartment 1407

Some time ago this spacious apartment may have been a comfortable and warm place to live. The architecture is reminiscent of old-world New York, with many hallways and corridors leading to wide open living spaces and dining rooms. But in whatever times has passed since someone lived here, it has not been kind. Plastic and sheets cover much of the contents of the apartment, pulled over armoires and cabinets, couches and chairs and tables. Boxes half-filled with personal belongings are stacked up in cleared out areas of what might have at one time been a living room. Windows with blinds partly drawn view the streets of what is clearly the Lower East Side.

The facts are these: Helena biked all the way from the hangar to Peter's apartment. Once there, she ate something, despite being dirty and sweaty from her exertion, feeling a dull sense of flatline after the sick adrenaline rush of seeing Cameron's body and making her escape. The breakdown happened in the shower, where tears and water drops can be easily confused, and once that was done, so was she. Now she's a girl in an apartment, dressed in a shirt to big for her and a pair of sweatpants, sitting on the couch and cradling a cup of wine in her hand while she stares intently at nothing. The wine bottle stands by itself on the coffee table. Fortunately, that offset stare is not one of someone who has a lack in her capacity to cope - oh no, Helena's thinking hard about things.

The sound of a rush of air comes to fill the silence in the apartment, that very faint sound that is the telltale sound of someone who can teleport. Hard-soled shoes clack against the wood floors of the apartment, "Helena?" Peter's in the kitchen, and the sound of the french doors that lead into the bedroom opening can clearly be heard from the living room, "Helena are you here?" Without a doubt, it's Peter.

"I'm - " Helena's voice comes out unexpectedly hoarse; the shower also allowed for a satisfying amount of vocality to express her upset. She clears her throat. "I'm here." An empath should hopefully get an immediate sense of wrong, but then Peter also has his own trials and tribulations. Helena straightens, turning toward the sound of his voice. There's a quick wipe at her eyes, as if that could magically erase the red. She sets down the wine.

"Lena?" Peter comes out of another pair of french doors from the bedroom into the living room, turning to spot where Helena sits on the sofa. Her condition makes him hesitate, and he's still dressed in that business-style he has been wearing since joining with Company. Still in black, as he usually was, but that touch of gray on his dress shirt seems to brighten things up — for Peter. "What's wrong?" He moves quickly, as if in a hurry, to stand by the side of the sofa, then slowly crouches down and offers one hand out to her. "Jesus, you look like hell."

Helena will not cry again. Will not. She takes the hand, half rising from her seated position. "It's Cameron." she says. "He's dead." There, she said it. Her hand slips into his. "His body was left out in front of one of our safehouses. It was…it was dried up, like a…" she suddenly trails off. "Oh my god. The man. The man with the birds." Her eyes grow huge. "I know who did it."

Peter's eyes widen the moment those first words slip past the girl's lips, "Oh my God." He and Cameron had never entirely seen eye to eye about anything, but for him to be dead, that's not something Peter even entertained for a moment. Squeezing the hand, Peter rises up just enough to walk over and settle down on the sofa at Helena's side, wrapping one arm around her shoulders as he gently guides her over and into his arms. "Hey, hey," He rests his nose in the part of her hair, "It's alright…" His own tense and dry swallow indicates that it's clearly not alright. "Is everyone else okay?" One hand comes to rest on her cheek, gently tilting her head back to look at her face, "Alex, Dan, Eve?" His eyes wander Helena's, searching for some confirmation that the worst of it has already come and gone.

"Everyone's safe." she says, relaxing slightly from the comforting contact. There's still some sense of…distance, or holding back. "I ordered an E and E. I'll be touching base with Alex and Teo tomorrow, but everyone managed to head out." Further thought - she knows who killed Cameron, but not who he is, or what he even looks like. She'll need to talk to Trask, and maybe Cat. She looks back up to Peter. "He left me in charge. I mean, I was taking care of things while he was busy, but he left me in charge. By myself." An edge creeps into her voice, but she stays reasonably calm.

"Don't worry about that right now." Peter brushes a hand over the top of Helena's hair, fingers raking across her scalp gently, a reassuring gesture. "Just relax," His words come as a whisper, pulling Helena back towards his chest slowly, one hand resting on her shoulder, the other brushing up and down the small of her back. "Don't worry about that right now, just — " He shakes his head, resting his nose in her hair again, letting her feel his breath. "I'm here." For all his haste, Peter seems to struggle now between being where he needs to be, and being where he should be.

Helena is quiet for a long while. She doesn't shake or quiver, nothing so melodramatic, but there's a sense of coiled tension just under her skin. "But you can't stay." It's not a question. Does she mean for a few minutes? The night? Ever? Hard to tell. "I'm using this as my safehouse. I thought you might not mind, and the Company probably wouldn't think to find me here." She pulls back to look at him. "You know there are people in the Company who are undoubtedly going to continue to target PARIAH, right?" This becomes especially important to her now. "We need to know what to do if they come after us. And you'll need to know things too."

Peter sighs, the moment he hears Helena continue to speak about work and business despite her condition. He reaches up with one hand, pressing two fingers to her lips, "Ssh." He says quietly, then moves the hand to cup her cheek. He looks at her in a somewhat proud, if not somewhat chiding manner with a gentle shake of his head. "You're not a concern to them right now. Not even a blip on the radar, I don't think." His brows furrow slightly, "First, since you insist on being as bad as I am about rest…" His words are said more teasingly than anything, "The guy… the one who…" He looks down to Helena, then away, "He's in the papers. Lots of people, mostly Evolved. It was on the news tonight, what happened. I… I didn't know it was him."

There's a moment of silence, then his eyes turn back to the blonde in his arms. "I came here to tell you something. The Company, they don't have unrestricted access to Molly Walker. They never did." Peter shakes his head again, "There's a new person in charge of this branch of the Company, a woman named Sabra Dalton. She's a friend of my family, a good friend. I met her at my father's funeral. I trust her, Helena." He gives a gentle squeeze of her shoulder.

"Molly is in the company of Homeland Security, and the Company doesn't directly work with them, I've come to find out. So any fears about being tracked down, don't worry. They can't even get her to help us look for Elle." Peter gently brushes his hand against that cheek, stroking his fingers around the back of her ear and through her hair. "I've got about fifteen minutes, tops, then I have to get back." He smiles, gently, "Do you want to spend them talking about work, or not?"

Helena looks at him. "Are you going to stay with the Company after you find Elle Bishop?" she asks, and then holds up a hand. "No. I don't think I want to know the answer yet. And you're right." Then there's a hand to his cheek in turn, permitting herself a small smile. "Are you still spitting poison?" she can't help but ask. "Because I'm almost afraid to ask where you got that."

"I don't know," Peter admits, and at first it's uncertain which question he's answering, a worried look crossing his face. "I… a man I work with. He's a good person, just a little rough around the edges." There's a gentle smile, and he leans in to press his nose to her forehead, eyes closing. "I don't want to risk hurting you, I don't know if I can control it…" His words are hushed, and the regret there is considerable. Arms come up to wrap around her shoulders, the least he can afford Helena is the comfort of his embrace.

"You better learn." she murmurs as she rests against him. "It's so unfair." she says. "You could stop time if you wanted. And I have only now." Another moment of silence and then, "I still may need to be able to reach you. I can't depend on knowing when you're going to show up. I'm not here all the time, but I could leave something for you. You could do the same." There's Company personnel she wants to ask about, but his time - no, he really does have all the time in the world, so it's her time - is limited.

"Yeah, sure." Peter says in a quiet tone of voice, "There's a cigar box in my closet. It's got some pictures of my dad in it, sentimental stuff. It's probably buried under something — Just leave the notes there." He manages as much of a smile as he can, despite the truth of Helena's murmured warning. "There's one other thing," He says quietly, a hand lightly brushing up and down her back again. "If you, or anyone, finds out anything about Elle, you let me know. Her life is in danger because of me, and I'm not going to let that happen. See if maybe Wireless can do you the favor, maybe tap into security cameras…" He winces, "Just don't tell her I asked."

Helena nods. "I can do that." She looks up at him. "You'll keep the Company off our backs. We may not be a blip now, but eventually we'll come back around to their attention." Her fingers brush his cheek, and she unwittingly looks at the clock - and finds herself hating it. "If you find out anything about this killer," her eyes are bright, "Tell me."

"I can't promise that." Peter says with a frown, "I'm not that important to them, I don't make those kinds of decisions… and…" His eyes close, head gently shaking, "I'll see what I can do. If I hear anything about him, I'll let you know." When Helena looks at the clock, so does Peter, and his eyes close slowly. "I've got to get back, I have an appointment with Doctor Knutson." Peter strains a sigh, nose pressing against's Helena's forehead. He lingers there, considering the risk, but in the end doesn't tempt fate. His arms come from around her shoulders, and he slowly begins to stand up from the sofa. "Are you going to be alright?"

Helena would be better if he was with her. That's plain in her expression. But she nods. "Yeah." she says. The corner of her mouth upturns. See? Tough as nails. "Go on." she urges.

Peter watches Helena for a moment from where he stands, making a subtle gesture with one hand as a light touch of some unseen hand brushes her lips. His smile turns bittersweet, and his eyes avert from hers. Then, in that instant, there is a rushing sound of air moving to fill the spot where Peter once was, leaving only empty space behind in his wake.

Any additional notes fall to the bottom.

October 16th: Then Pharaoh Called
October 17th: Bedside Manner
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