Was It You?


abby_icon.gif peter7_icon.gif

Scene Title What It You?
Synopsis Peter comes to visit Abby in the hospital and asks a difficult question.
Date April 21, 2010

St.Luke's Hospital

A private room, all the more easier for the tweedle to watch over the occupant, house's Peter's friend and partner. Teo's gone, do things, get food, sleep, you name it. But it leaves Abigail alone in the room, looking out the window at the snow that falls viciously from on high, heaps of it blanketing the city, freezing tree tops and looking very much like the set of some fictional movie about natural disasters.

Clear liquid drips into a milipore chamber, delivering enough drugs to keep pain at bay, emotions low and coherency at just lucid enough for conversation. If one could pull anything from the blonde other than polite yes's, no's, she's not hungry, the IV bag needs to be replenished, and to answer Teo when he asks, or tries to make a joke that the both of them know that they should laugh at but don't. The hospital gown is the drab patterned blue, her cast is a glaring white, untouched by sharpies or anything right now, pink toes peeking out from the smooth finish, higher than her other leg. Hair braided and laying over shoulder while on the television there's the price is right playing and normally, she'd be shouting out the prices, playing along. Normally.

Things these days have been far from normal and Peter's joyride with The Vegan is extended. For who knows how long. It's a quiet room he's walking into.

The knock on her door is out of courtesy, though the federal agents out front had already let the guest emerging into the hospital room know Abby was awake. "Abigail?" Peter Petrelli never calls her by her full first name, but there it is spilling awkwardly out of his mouth as he steps in through the partly open door, brows raised and a nervous — and perpetually crooked — smile spread across his lips. "Sorry, ah, I meant to get here last night but I had a thing going on and just…" it's a terrible excuse, and Peter reaches up one gloved hand to scrub at the back of his neck. He looks like he hasn't slept in a while, judging from the dark circles around his eyes.

Walking in to the room, Peter moves over to Abby's IV out of reflex, checking it with wandering brown eyes before settling them down on the blonde in the bed. "God, Abby… what happened to you?" There's a tightness in Peter's throat, and the paramedic unshoulders his black wool jacket, then unwinds the red scarf from around his neck, laying them both on the chair by her bedside.

Reaching out slowly, Peter lays a hand on Abby's, squeezing gently, "You need anything?"
He doesn't get a chance to take her hand, it's moved out of his path, settling on her hip and out of reach. Whatever happened, any progress she made in letting others touch her, and the casual contact that she'd started to make a part of her life is gone. Even Teo has been discouraged from it. Caliban's handprint easily seen in the form of livid bruises around her neck.

"Robert happened" Simple, quiet, succinct. "You got my message then. I was out of it last night." Her other hand creeps down to press buttons, move to a more upright position on the bed. "Some water? Little thirsty but Teo's gone for a bit, get some rest"

"I already told my mother what happened, she— said she'd handle it." From the sounds of Peter's voice it seems like he wants to handle it. Looking down at the hand Abby moved away, Peter's lips press together tightly and his head shakes, brown eyes cast over to the caraffe near the bed on the swiveling table. He takes a few steps from Abby's side, tugging a plastic cup from the stack on the tray, pouring her a cup of water in the awkward silence between breaths.

Looking over his shoulder at her, Peter's brows furrow and head nods slowly. "Here…" he turns, offering out the cup, giving her the dignity of letting her drink it herself rather than trying to carefully help her tip the cup up. "Abby why— why'd Robert do this to you?" There's simple disbelief on his face, head shaking, brows furrowed. "Are— are you sure it was Robert?"

Steady hands take the cup from him. Even fingers don't brush against his as if she's making a concerted effort to not touch. "I don't know. I don't…" The plastic cup is held close, taking her gaze away from watching him pour and pass the water to it resting on her abdomen and rising, falling with each breath.

"He must have been hallucinating. He thought, I was someone else, someone impersonating me. He told me to tell him where Abigail was or he'd start breaking body parts then he grabbed-" It's not had to figure out what he grabbed and hurt. "Odessa saved me" See Peter, she is good for something. "She stopped time so that he wouldn't kill me and we went upstairs till he went away and she called for the agents"

Eyes close, try and trap the water that's gathering on eyelids and keep them there, at bay. "Think maybe it was the Russians? Zhukovsy's… not with them. It can't have been an illusion"

"I dunno…" Peter breathes out, brows furrowed and head shaking. "Robert doesn't seem like the kind've man to do hallucinagenic drugs and then go up into someone's apartment and— " he cuts himself off there, moving to sweep the end og his jacket to the side and take a seat in the chair he'd draped it over. Peter, obviously, has no idea that Robert has H5N10, after all he's not Evolved to the best of Peter's knowledge.

Resting his forearms over his knees, hands folding, Peter dips his head down into a nod. "Zhukovsky's dead," Peter notes to Abby, head nodding a few times, "I— I don't think they have another illusionist on their payroll. With Dreyfus and Kozlow both still on the loose though it— maybe they leveraged something, or found a telepath to scramble his mind, make him see something that wasn't there. I've seen— " Peter furrows his brows, "done that before."

"He's been sick Peter" Abigail intones quietly, looking over at him, trying to put weight into the words. "He's been sick, and he wasn't carrying his gun. He has always had his gun with him for as long as I know him and he pulls it" Her head tilts back to rest on the pillow, squeezing eyes shut. Teo, and now Peter, two people she's told.

"Sick?" Peter's brows furrow, brown eyes go distant and his head nods once, slowly. "Don't worry, Abby, my— my mother'll handle it, I know she'll figure out what happened. You're safe now though, you've got those guys outside, I'm here, I'm sure there's plenty've other people looking out for you too so— so don't worry." Reflexively he tries to reach out for her, then stops himself remembering her reaction. There's a furrow of Peter's brows and his head nods slowly and eyes wander down to his feet.

"I tried to see if I could get Doctor Stevens down here to take a look at you," oh the irony, "but— but they said he'd taken a leave of absence, something about transferring out to another hospital. I'm… I'm sorry." Always apologizing, it's Peter's way, and rubbing a hand at the back of his neck for lack of anything better to do, he can't help but seem more awkward than usual.

"Maybe— once the feds catch Sasha— maybe I can try and get to him before he gets shipped off, I can get his power do— something."

There's a crease of Peter's brows, brown eyes cast to the side where Abby's feet are, then back up to the blonde. "I'm so sorry, Abby."
"Stop with the sorries" It comes out harsh, as harsh as she can manage at the moment, lids lifting and her eyebrows crimping. "Sasha's ability is why Teo's face is fucked and Francois's hand. You use his on my foot, I'll never walk again Peter. I need to walk. I can't work with you and the ambulance if I can't put my own weight much less someone else's on my ankle. And Doctor Stevens is with the Company now. I know because he came to the Ferry and I called Matt to help him turn himself in Peter. He went with them to try and learn what it is that he does, and how to learn to use it properly. I know, because it was go with them or go with whomever it is that the company is afraid of these days and is having territorial pissing matches over"

It's exhausting being snappy but it's better than crying? She realizes she just yelled, or Abby version of yelling at him and she switches to apologetic, a half aborted attempt to reach out and touch his shoulder but curls her fingers into a fist and pulls back. 'I'm sorry. I'm not.. I'm not myself. This stupid formula and waiting to manifest, and then… Robert and Flint, and the cliffsides fires. I'm sorry Peter"

For a moment Peter actually looks pissed that he's getting brow-beat, but the moment Abby sinks back down into herself the expression fades away entirely and the fire in Peter's eyes is immediately washed away. "I know what Sasha's ability is," Peter admits as patiently as he can, "I know better than anyone else, probably. It's not as ugly as he makes it out to be, and— " Peter's brows furrow, "I'm not going to let you suffer through surgery and rehabilitation for this, Abby. I'll find a healer, somewhere… I'll find one and then— then I'll fix you up. Even if I have to get my mother to arrange a meeting with Daniel, I'm not letting you sit like this all— broken. He damned well deserves to fix you after what Robert— "

Peter pauses in hesitation, brows furrowed as a nervous look comes over him. When Peter's eyes wander from side to side, there's a look back up to Abby. "What— what was going on before Robert— before this happened." He just nods to Abby, not having the heart to say attacked. "It's important."

"I am broken Peter. I've been broken since Staten Island. The world is broken and Mister Linderman's ability isn't go to fix all of it" Can't fix Deckard, can't fix a great many things. "They already did surgery on my foot, I get out in a day and go home and this cast and physico therapy. There's no life Kami to make things better like it never happened"

She shifts in the bed, palms down to adjust her weight, lean forward and pull a pillow down further while he has a brain fart. "He was telling me he was going to Vegas Peter. That he didn't know how long he'd be but that he felt I deserved to know in person. He was.." There's a flush creeping along her collarbone and swiftly moving up her neck that has nothing to do with drugs or the heightened temperature she's dealing with. "He was.. his hand was on my foot and his thumb was stroking along my arch"

Rolling his tongue over the inside of his cheek, Peter's brows furrow. "I'll fix it…" Peter insists, like is so symptomatic of his personality, something is broken and he has to fix it; much easier when it's not something broken in his own life, of course. "Abby, I— I don't have Wendy's ability anymore so— so I can't say for certain but— but are you sure you didn't do anything to Robert?" There's a grave seriousness in his tone, teeth worriedly tugging at his lower lip as he leans forward and folds his hands on the side of her bed.

"You've been given the Formula, it— it changed what I did, there's no telling what it'll do to you either. He had bare skin contact with you, there's— there's any number of abilities that could've adversely affected him. Maybe he felt something, maybe you subconsciously did something and it affected his mind. You were— " there's a furrow of his brows, "maybe your heart rate was a little up, triggered something. I— " he hates even suggesting it, "there's no way to say you didn't manifest, and just not know it."

That never occurred to her. The moment it does, what Peter says, sinks in, the blonde is horrified. She did it? Whatever she did, she brought this on?

Her unadorned hand, no IV plugged into the back of her palm, is thrust out at Peter. There's a way to find out, to know. "Take it" She shakes her hand in his direction. "Take it, tell me if there's anything to take. you can't take it unless i've manifested right?"

"I— " Peter's brows furrow, eyes go wide, "Abby I— I don't know if I can or not. I— " there's a swallow and Peter's brown eyes go wide as he looks at the hand. "Abby I— I can't. I don't know what it is you do, if I take it and it isn't obvious there's no telling what could happen. What— if you're poisonous or something? God, if I accidentally let loose in a public setting or— or at work. I— I can't risk that Abby, I'm— I'm sorry." Mortified nervousness hangs on Peter's face as he leans back and away from Abby's hand, palm smoothing across his mouth.

"We don't know if that's what happened, we— I don't know. Robert's the only person who knows and he— I'll find out," Peter explains with a worried hitch of his voice, "I'll talk to my mother, go all the way to the top to try and talk to Daniel if I have to, I'll find out why Robert did it. In— in the meantime just… just try to stay calm, don't do anything to excite yourself."

"Don't get excited, stay calm. I have to do that after you just told me that I may have made Robert try to kill me Peter? You want me to stay calm after that? That I caused the guy I have been trying to date, who's… You try staying calm and unexcited! Peter, if it's something from touching me, then a screwed up Ankle is the least of my worries since I work in an ambulance and touch people all the time!"

"Abby, it— it'll be okay, we'll figure it out." Peter's voice hitches in the back of his throat, one hand rubbing at the side of his face. "We don't know if that's what it was, I— I'll talk to someone, figure it out." Now he's inwardly cursing at himself for having even brought up the topic. "I'm— so sorry Abby I— I shouldn't have even said anything, I just… I thought— " Peter's wondering right now if he thought at all about what he said.

Getting up from his seat, he looks away from Abby, drawing in a slow breath and running both hands up thorugh his hair, sweeping bangs away from his face. "If you're that worried for now, just— when you get home get yourself a pair of gloves. It's easy to keep away from skin to skin contact if you think about it," he certainly had to for a time. "I— I'll take some more time off from work and try to figure out what happened to Robert." More time off from work.

Abby happened to Robert. The self hate that Deckard has, that Caliban has for some of the things he's done is there on her face. "He's in Vegas, he said he had to go to Vegas, that.. he was taking a bus" She wants to curl up in a ball right now, stick her fingers in her ears and go la la la la la. What did the formula do to her? "Just go. Go away Peter" Sullen Abigail is returning, looking away from him and down at her plaster covered ankle. She could be throwing things at him but she's not, only getting angry. More angry at herself than anything else.

"Abby, I— " Peter cuts himself off, brows furrowed and head tipped down, hands curled tightly into fists at his side. He grabs his scarf, winding the length of red around his throat, then takes his jacket and slings it over his shoulders, hastily buttoning it up as he takes a step away from her bed. Nervous brown eyes wander to Abigail, then back to the front of his coat. He's silent, worriedly so, and as Peter turns to walk towards the hospital room door. He doesn't need to say goodbye, he'll be back soon enough and hopefully with answers, even if he has to beat them out of someone.

Had he stayed, Peter might have thought to check Abigail's vitals out after she got frustrated like this.

Her fever's up.

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