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| Scene Title | The Shadow of Insomnia |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Peter arrives at Abigail's apartment to deliver her a message about Cardinal, but Abigail begins to see the cracks in Peter's surface showing. |
| Date | May 25, 2010 |
There is power at the Rivage. And with the weather on the return, it means that the heat that the apartment puts out will actually keep the apartment warm. Somewhere, Abby procured dog food between the Garden and now so that her new charge wasn't starving or being relegated to cat food. She took Raith's and Eileen's caution to heart. Rhett is being fed in a completely different room.
The place still looks like a temporary lodging and since the burning down of the bar, it more likely will remain so until she is able to either get her ability under control or rebuild the bar. Peter was told in a message that he could bring the animals back anytime, that she was back at the Rivage. With Alexander gone, his room devoid of his stuff save for the bed and the layered crates that served as shelving, it's been deathly quiet.
The radio is on, Abigail laid out on the couch with the rolly polly ball of fur on her chest, the both of them enjoying an afternoon siesta. The cast on the coffee table, letting her foot breath and get some air. She took the time to paint her toenails too, an act in and of itself when she can't very well bend over much. But she managed. The new tattoo of the lotus flower in running water is visible on the bottom of her foot, something only the girls in vegas and Francois had seen yet. A bottle of pills sits on the coffee table too, Hydrocodone crossed out with a black sharpie and "haitian" written on it. Lest anyone decide they needed some painkillers. The cat supplied supply of negation pills is in there, protected from canine and feline alike. Radio on, eyes closed, she's not expecting visitors unannounced.
Especially not visitors who don't use the door.
"Abby…" are you alright? The familiar echoing whisper of a shadow's voice comes from the floor beside the couch, followed by an inky rippling of shadows across the floor that spreads like ink on wood, seeping into the cracks and bleeding out. "The Bar, it— " Lucy's…. The shadows ripple for a moment, like unstilled water, before a head and shoulders begin to emerge from them, and slowly Peter Petrelli — not Richard Cardinal — arises from the shadowy cloth, draped in a black wool jacket, his red scarf tightly wound around his neck.
There's a look of both worry and relief on his face, a conflicting expression to be certain. Brows knit together as they are, he looks Abby up and down, head shaking slowly. "What happened?" is asked more materially, and it is evident he doesn't have her pets.
"Richard?" Drowsily from the depths of her nap, Abby's roused with the sound of someone talking, but having heard no door open and only a shadow in it's wake. "Richard, re-"Not Richard, as the voice coming from the shadow is not his but Peter's. Hands go around the puppy still laid out asleep on her chest, and she watches as unlike Cardinal, Peter pulls himself from the shadows and become corporeal in her room. Her heart beats a little fast, but not so much as would require Peter to douse her with water, or use the extinguisher that's been tucked into the room.
"Dreyfus, it was Dreyfus" Abigail shifts enough to lay the brown ball of fur on the couch, slowly moving limbs and offering her hand to her partner so that he can help her sit up. "He tried to trap us and pick us off like fish in a barrel, He just didn't count on a few things. Like our tenacity, ability to survive being shot"
There's a grin on her face. "Or manifesting pyromancy when shot up a few times"
Brown eyes grow wide and Peter is left to stare at Abigail vacantly. There's a searching look in Peter's eyes before his shoulders slouch and his head hangs a little. He still doesn't look like he gets much sleep, and that's one of the first things Abby recognizes about him, things that offset the beard he's grown in the weeks its been since they've seen one another. "I'm sorry…" is the response to her seemingly good natured reaction to it, guilt on his face for the loss of the bar and having to bear the burden of a power so vastly different from the one she was gifted.
The silent expression on Peter's face is an inscrutable one as he lowers himself down to sit on the arm of the sofa. "It's too cold to take Pila outside…" Peter murmurs, folding his hands in his lap and staring down at the floor, "I'm— sorry." Again with the apologies, for everything and anything except thigns that might actually be his fault.
"Then she stays where she is, until it's not too cold. Because I don't think I can take Teo mad at me for the death of his queen on top of everything else already" Rhett lolls on his back, lost in puppy dreams and content while his mistress makes room for Peter to sit down proper with a pat of her hand on the cushions.
"Stop saying sorry, for the things that you can't control Peter. You knew, and I knew that the odds of getting healing or anything like that were very low. A.. one in a ten million crapshoot, the odds so very bad against us that even the best gamblers in Vegas would have shied away"
"Beard does not become you Peter. Five O'clock shadow maybe. WEll, no, maybe if you keep it trimmed close, but don't let it get all lumberjackey and such. Kaylee might like it. Run her hands through it. I know I would if I were her" Her hand doesn't go for his jawline and the beard, just for his hair and ruffling it. She affectionate right now, maybe the result of the sleep, the puppy, who knows. "Thank you. For taking care of them"
Dark brows crease together and Peter's eyes shift to Abby when he feels a hand in his hair. Attention diverts down to the puppy held close to her, thoughtfully, then back up slowly. He's very Flint-ish at the moment, dejectedly silent for lack of having the proper words with which to express his feelings. His eyes avert from her, down to his feet and slowly he leans forward, letting his forearms rest over his knees.
"Cardinal's alive…" Peter offers off-handedly, staring distantly at the floor, "healed, I mean." There's something of a distance in his expression, even when he looks back to Abby with a faint smile on his lips. "It worked, Sasha's power…" he doesn't go into the details, just tries to make that smile a little bit bigger for her. This is supposed to be happy news, right?
"Thank you" Taking a cue from his body language, pulling back the affection for him. "I had thought you had seen him. Given that you slid in here without the need for the key that I gave you" She watches him, blue eye's suddenly cautious.
"What was the price Peter" Was Richard all black now? Was he scarred?
"Gillian." Peter admits with an askance look to Abby, followed by the flash of a smile and an awkward laugh, "I'm kidding, I'm kidding…" one ungloved hand waves in the blonde's direction playfully and his mood seems to mercurially shift away from the glum doldrums of a moment ago. "Cardinal's fine, mostly. I left a mark on his hand, but… he'll be alright. Gillian augmented the both of us to get it working properly, I had to augment her back…" Peter waves one hand in the air flippantly, flashing a toothy smile. "It's nothing, really."
Lifting up a hand to scrub at the back of his head, Peter rises up to stand, but turns instead and leans over to Abby, lifting both of his hands and resting them at the sides of her neck abruptly. He leans in and— of all things— presses a kiss to her forehead just at her hairline, then leans back slowly and lets his fingers drag across the sides of her neck. "Thank you for being supportive of me, for all this— and— " brown eyes divert down, then back up again, "how soon as you back to work?"
Which is to say:
"How soon can I tell my Vegan co-pilot to take a flying leap?"
There's being affectionate - the kiss on the forehead that they have both done to each other, and then there's that. The drag of his hand, his fingers across her neck that draws an involuntary shudder from the woman. "Okay, Peter, unless your name is Robert or your name was Flint, doing that to my neck, is gonna get you in a heap of trouble with Kaylee"
She wriggles her toes, taking that hand that did that thing to her neck, holding it between both of hers. "I got asked that today when I called to give my new number. They're in pretty desperate need. I mean, I can drive, I can help you, I just can't be counted on to help get a patient down the stairs or lift them. THey asked if I could come at least work in the Bay."
"Given that you don't have healing anymore, I think you at least have him for about another month. I'm sorry Peter. I know he's really not the easiest to work with. Heavens, I just jibber back at him about saving his soul and whether he's found Jesus and that Jesus will be his salvation" His hand is squeezed firmly. "I would have to take the negation drugs too on my shifts. I can't afford to … you know.. flame while taking care of a patient and.. that was another thing I wanted to talk to you about"
There's a flash of a smile, dark brows lifting, and Peter offers Abby a look that is strangely wild-eyed for a moment. "I do," he offers without context long after the appropriate time for any response comes and goes. "Have healing, that is." Dark brows crease together, and Peter slides his hand from Abby's, holding it palm up to her, then does so with the other hand. "Two hands, to powers. Or, that's the going idea at the moment… Gillian helped me figure it out, indirectly."
Straightening up, there's a look down to Peter, a tilt of his chin up and a warm smile. Her open-ended notion of wanting to talk to him about something has Peter flashing Abby another smile before he steps away from her and reaches inside of his jacket, taking out a business card for a tailor in lower Manhattan along with a pen. Coming to stand by the wall, Peter turns the card over to the blank side, and clicks the pen with his thumb before hastily scrawling a number on the front.
"This," Peter admits quietly, "is Gabriel's number." Peter turns slowly, walking back over to where Abby sits and offers the card out between two fingers. "Keep the calls brief, but this will go directly to him." He doesn't need to say it's a Messiah phone, or that it's connected through Rebel, but that doesn't make those notions untrue either.
"Don't tell him where you got the number from, just ask him for help. I trust him," Peter admits in a way that seems so very unlike him, "you don't have anything to worry about, and he has far less control-issues than I do."
"Peter…."
Geeze, drop the bombshell. Bombshells. That he has two abilities, and then that he has gabriel's number and he's pushing her towards him to learn. "Peter, it's Gabriel. This is no small thing I can do. The last time I had a run in with him, I was negotiating my death when he came for my gift." She won't be rude and not take the card from him. She does, between her fingers, glancing down to the number. Between her phone and this one, the odds of being eavesdropped…
"I was going to ask you, I have others who are willing but…" But Peter looks like the hind end of a donkey's ass and her hand catches around his wrist, pulling him down onto the couch. "You have good control, in certain aspects of your life. In others, like.. eating donuts for breakfast, you are sorely lacking in control, I will give you that. But really peter, you are one of the more anal people I have ever known"
But look from whom's loins he was sprung. "Did you come over in the hopes that I would let you heal me and put you out of your vegan misery or just to tell me that Richard is whole and flesh and can make love to Elisabeth and make babies and lay on the beach in tahiti and sip pina colada's?"
"Yes," is Peter's blanket answer to all of that with a toothy grin. "Trust me, Abby, he's changed. I'm the last person in the world who should be saying that, but Gabriel's not the man he used to be. Maybe it was Eileen, maybe it was everything he went thorugh with Kazimir, but he's a better person now than he ever has been. He's still Gabriel," Peter admits with a raise of his brows, "but… he's a… he's a good person." All of this sounds so alien coming out of Peter's mouth, yet it's delivered with conviction.
Tucking his hands into his pockets, Peter lifts up one brow and studies Abby thoughtfully. "He had the chance to steal the ability of someone who has a power very similar to mine, and he didn't. He taught them how to use their power, and it saved all of our hides. Who do you think's partly responsible for stopping the weather? Him, more so than me. If you can trust me," Peter takes a step back, slow and meandering, "you can trust him."
"As for healing you…" There's a crease of Peter's brows, "that depends if you're comfortable with a permanent, black scar on your body in the shape of my hand. I can't do it right now, though," he shifts his weight with one foot, "I— I need time to rest from what happened with Cardinal."
Attempt to pull him down is failed, the guy backing off somewhat which is puzzling. Peter, going to bat for Gabriel and his self control. The weather had turned, she knew that, but that he was responsible and others? Her brows furrow, blonde pulling inwards and down, forehead creasing as palms come down on the couch, using them to push herself up and off of the couch, balancing on one foot, toes of her other touching the floor.
Behind her, Rhett whines, back paw rising as he dreams puppy dreams still. "Peter…" She limps forward, nearly a hop, reaching out to snag his forearm. "Peter. What's wrong? You are not the man that I left my pets with. Is there…"
There's the tiniest looks of surprise when Abby takes his arm in her hand. Brown eyes look up to Abby, dark circles around them. Peter makes a quiet sound in the back of his throat, then steps forward to take Abby's elbow in one hand and helpfully guide her back down onto the sofa, settling down beside the blonde. There's a deep breath drawn in, free hand smoothing over his face. "I haven't been sleeping well… I— had… a fight with Kaylee, and… and I pretty much threw her out." There's a look in Peter's eyes, distant and unfocused. "She… she keeps doing things with the Ferry and I just— " he cuts himself off, rubbing the heel of his palm over one eye.
"I'll be fine," comes the dismissal from Peter. Brown eyes lift up to meet Abby's bluer ones, and the smile Peter offers is a far wearier one than just a moment ago. "I've been pulling double shifts and just… I get three hours of sleep or so a night, maybe…" he looks away, down to his lap, and finally lets go of her elbow. "I'll be fine."
"Oh Peter,"
Silly stupid-head Peter, pulling double shifts. For reasons that she thinks probably has to do with a very empty apartment and probably the smell of the blonde on his bedsheets or who knows what else. Now her hand comes up to cup his jaw, shake her head with disapproval in her eyes. "Peter, you can't subsist on three hours of sleep. That's just screaming to screw up the measurements of a drug and kill someone in the rig. You know this, you realize this. Even I can't live on three hours. You can't live on three hours, the body needs sleep"
Lips press together, probably far similar to his mothers in that moment than he would care for. "Pass me my cast, help me get it on. Then take off your stupid jacket. There's some jogging pants of Alexanders and long sleeved shirts in the dryer. You can either sleep in his bed, or you can stay with me in mine, because I know you won't do anything untoward, if you need company. But either way, you are not leaving here without at least those three hours of sleep. Then, when you've reset, whatever it is you need to reset after saving Richard, I will take that handprint because I know a really good chromokinetic, who can turn it flesh toned. Or.. I can turn it into another tattoo."
Jaw tense and brows furrowed, Peter freezes under the touch of a hand on his jaw. For the barest of moments, there is a distant and sad expression in Peter's eyes, something deeper than the surface that bubbles up in apology or some sort of wordless plea for just a moment. Though before it's given long enough to muster a presence, Peter mels away in Abigail's hands, falling to the floor like fine grains of black powder that land in a perfect, black silhouette of his body.
"This body doesn't need sleep…" not much. The echo of his voice is a distant whisper, the sibilant hissing of Cardinal's shadow-voice coming from Peter. "I'll be back tomorrow…" he whispers to her, moving like ink across the floor. "Don't forget to call him," Gabriel. The shadow lingers near the apartment door, cast up against the wall as though Peter were there and casting his own shadow.
"Thank you," Abigail. With those words, Peter slips between the cracks, disappearing from the blonde's apartment and the invitation of her comfort and company.
Men. She watches him slink back into the shadows, fingers running through the shadow before it too makes for the kills with only his insistence to call Gabriel. "I will" She promises with a sigh, wrinkling her nose at the form he's taken. That body doesn't need much sleep. But does Peter still need that much sleep when he returns to the form, Does time accumulate different for either form. Translate?
The puppy wakes with a start, rocking back and forth to get up onto his feet as Peter does his trick, watching the shadow move, chasing after him all the way to the apartment door and into it with a thud that sends it rolling back onto it's haunches and shaking his head.
"Oh Rhett. He'll be back. You can chase him around the room then" Her hand coming out to swipe the cast and start to fit it back to her foot carefully. "You might even have a cat to chase and torture"