Starring:
Summary: The three S's happen in this log. Swearing, Sex and… You'll just have to read to the end to find out the third.
Easter Egg: Congratulations. You found the log. This is what could have been. Enjoy it. Hate it. Whatever floats your boat.
A Swinging Pendulum
Mara's Apartment
The two block walk from where Nathan landed to Mara's apartment has not been easy on the woman. She moves along awkwardly, limping with the help of her crutches. She puts on a brave face for her companion, insisting she can make it without his assistance. At least… until she reaches the stairs to her flat. "Oh…" She stops and stares at them for a long, long moment, then to Nathan.
Nathan doesn't exactly meet Mara's eyes - something he's been avoiding doing for the entire journey, really. But he does glance her way, only to look back up the metal stairs. He puts on a smile. "These things are a pain," he mutters, in response to her 'oh', before he shrugs once. "Come on, let me…" It's a familiar gesture by now, the one to indicate he's about to pick her up. Usually, it's before a flight.
Mara wraps her arms around behind Nathan's shoulders instinctively, carefully tucking her crutches around behind him. It's a maneuver more practiced than she'd like it to be. "Thank you," she says quietly. Defeated.
With equal instinct, Nathan lifts her off her feet. It's a little awkward, if only in the effort not to knock Mara's leg against the railing. The street is probably empty enough in that he could use his power, more than likely, without drawing attention, but as usual… why fly when you can walk? Setting her down once they reach the landing, Nathan backs up, letting her make with the door opening.
Mara reaches into her pocket to fish out her keys, leaning against her crutches heavily. "I hope that damned clock has stopped," she mutters. The brightly coloured key chain, one of those personalized ones, although hers reads 'Kay,' is retrieved and the key is fit into the lock. She nudges the door open with her free hand and listens intently.
Tick, tock, tick, tock…
"Damn."
"Can't have everything," Nathan says, gently nudging her to step inside the apartment, following her once the path is cleared. With a gloved hand, he shuts the door behind him. "Besides, we're averting fate, today. What's the worst that can happen."
"I can think of a few things." Mara hobbles toward her bedroom where she stops and stares at the grandfather clock adjacent from her bed. "I could touch it," she tells him. "I could touch it and I could see everything. Exactly what he intends to do to me. I could see how he kills me. I could see if I ever tell him what he's going to get by taking my ability. I could see if I say his name. I could… I could see if he makes me scream." She's petrified in the doorway. Too scared to scream. Too scared to cry. Too scared to move. It's all a show, for Nathan's benefit. She's already had her vision. She's seen her fate. And that's why they're doing this. Today. Now.
Nathan moves to stand just behind her, a hand curling around her left arm. "We got enough futures to worry about tonight," he says. He sounds unsympathetic, although this falters for a moment when he says, "Mara?" A slight tug, obviously an attempt to urge her away from the door. "He won't make you scream. We're fixing that right now."
Mara pulls her arm away half-heartedly. "I have to get the rope," she explains. She braces one arm on the mattress and then uses one crutch to nudge a box out from under her bed. "Don't… even ask." She oh-so-carefully stoops down to procure a length of rope from the box, far too purple to have ever been considered practical. She's looking a little ill and unsteady as she brushes past her accomplice to head toward the kitchen.
She keeps the rope in her bedroom. How handy. Nathan sort of just… shakes his head once, before turning to follow her out. His eyes are on the rope, even as he moves to grab a couple of lowball glasses, setting them down on the kitchen counter. "Sure that'll be strong enough?" he has to ask.
Mara fixes Nathan with A Look. "I'm a struggler. Trust me, it's strong enough." The rope is piled onto the counter and a piece of paper is retrieved from her jacket pocket and carefully smoothed out across the counter top. How to tie a noose. "We agreed, right? We don't want it to snap my neck?" Because who knows if she'd come back from that? She doesn't wait for an answer. "So I gotta tie like…" Her hands shake as she's tries to follow the instructions and pictures she printed out. You can find anything on the internet.
Grabbing an ice tray out of the freezer - because it has to be done right - Nathan breaks off a few cubes into each glass before before going for the booze. In all other respects, he had been making sure it wouldn't be obvious anyone else aside from Mara had been in her apartment. But no way is he skipping out on a drink. "Are you sure you wanna do it this way?" he asks, flicking a glance to the rope, to the drawings, but not to her, just back to the drinks.
"I don't have the guts to slash my wrists. And I might only succeed in making my knee worse if I jump… I… I suppose I could overdose?" Mara looks down at her work and curses. "I can't do it. My hands are shaking too much. N- Nathan…" The 'could you?' is unspoken.
In a flash, his drink is gone. Just gone. Nathan knocks back the whiskey, sets down the glass a little louder than he meant to, and picks up the rope. "If it's an overdose, people might keep it too discreet," he mutters, as he twists and knots the rope as the pictures indicate. Both his hands and his voice are steady.
It's the hardest thing she's ever done. And here he is, right beside her. It would be romantic if it weren't so fucking macabre. The same motions are done with her own drink of whiskey, slamming the glass down on the table with a gasp and a cough before refilling and repeating. "You're right. Nobody will raise a fuss if I overdose. Somebody has to find me. There have to be photographs. People- People gawking. It has to be sensationalised."
As Mara talks, Nathan completes his work. It had to be redone a few times, but now he's holding a noose in his hands. He doesn't hand it to her, just sets it back down and refills his glass. "It will be. Everyone will know." The renewed drink is gone as quickly as it was poured. "Jesus." That's said in a tone of 'how exactly did we end up here, again?'
"H- Help yourself. I… have something I need to do." Mara starts to make her way back toward the bedroom. As an afterthought, she looks over her shoulder and assures, "I'm not going to touch the clock." She doesn't have to. The door is shut and only quiet cursing and shuffling around can be heard behind the door. And the reason for all the apprehension in the air.
Tick, tock, tick, tock…
Nathan watches her go, nodding very minutely at the confirmation of no spontaneous, clock-related visions. Pouring himself one last, much smaller drink of whiskey and getting that down, he washes off the glass, dries it and puts it back. Never here. Sliding his hands in his pockets, he almost strolls into the centre of the apartment, glancing towards the door. He wants to go in there. He stays put instead.
It's a full ten minutes before Mara emerges from her bedroom, dressed in a wine-coloured gown that was probably worn at a wedding. Or maybe a high school formal if her body didn't change too much. She has her makeup done. She's dressed more for a night on the town, or some sort of ball than for what they intend to do. "How do I look?" With the liner and smoky shadow around her eyes, they seem wider. She looks more vulnerable. Fragile.
Not what Nathan was expecting, and it shows. She'll have to glean the answer to her question from that shock, then the flash of remorse, before his face becomes a mask again and he settles his gaze elsewhere. "Ready now? We shouldn't put this off much longer," he says, almost turning his back to her as he paces towards the window, though keeping out of sight from the street.
Mara seems frozen to the spot, watching the man pace. "Nathan." She looks down at the floor, at her shoes over the shag carpeting. "I promised I wouldn't do this, but… I have to. I have to. I- I could- This might not work. I might…" She lets the implication speak for itself as she limps forward with the help of her crutches. "Nathan. Look at me."
He doesn't want to do that, that's clear. But after his eyesight picks out almost everything else in the room, Nathan finally looks at her. His turn to feel frozen in place, but only for a moment, before he steps towards her. This is perhaps where anyone else might talk her out of it, but he's already talked himself into it. He wouldn't be here if there was even a shred of doubt. So he is grim, resolved. "It'll work," he says. It's not quite a lie.
"Shut up." Mara scowls. Then, she reaches up with one hand to grab him by the front of his shirt and drag him in for a kiss, eyes squeezed shut tightly to withstand against the onslaught of tears threatening her carefully applied makeup.
There's no resistance from Nathan. He meets the kiss and his arms wrap around her, holding her close. His voice may betray very little but at least in this one action, there's a flicker of everything he's feeling behind it all - some fear, some regret. Among other things. When it's broken, he kisses her forehead. From here, he stops trying to urge her, and instead keeps his arms around her, waiting. It's her death, after all.
"I can't do this," she gasps. "Not- Not yet. I have- Nathan." There's panic in her voice now as she wraps her free arm tightly around her pillar of support. "I'm so scared. What if I fuck this up? What if this is it? What if- Oh God."
"I know." What does he know? Whatever she's feeling, the panic, whatever. Nathan runs his hands over her back, in an attempt to soothe, for whatever good that'll do. In the background, like a constant rhythm under there words, is that same monotonous tone. Tick, tock, tick, tock. He pauses as if to allow her to listen to it. "It has to be done. You know it. You'll never come back here and hear that again." Deep down, he feels as this is an entirely separate part of him that is talking - a part of him he barely recognises. "You're not going to let him win."
The silence, or rather, the obstinate ticking that fills it and refuses to let it exist, is just what Mara needs to bring her resolve back. She tips her head back far enough to look the man in the eyes. "I love you." The pauses for the space of a breath. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I did this. To you. To us. I'm sorry about… about Heidi." The children. Your marriage. Everything? "But I love you."
It's like a seesaw. Her resolve strengthens and in turn, crumbles his own. For a split second, it shows, before he shuts his eyes and draws her closer, close enough that he murmurs at a volume that could only possibly be heard by her. "I love you. And I'm sorry too." This is the only way I could save you.
"This- This could be it. This could be the last time. This…" Mara swallows back the dread. The tears. "This could be the /last time/," she repeats. She pants for a few moments, finding it difficult to stay on her feet. The weight of the situation is crushing her, and the lack of vicodin in her system isn't helping matters. "Make me feel whole, Nathan. Just… Just one more time."
There are a lot of far more intelligent answers than the one he gives her. There is a simple No. There is making the case of discretion, of getting this done, of being only a phantom and accomplice here. All of them reasoned. Instead, what he does is pick her up. For all the times he's needed her. And despite all the certainty he tries to have that this won't be a final moment. He walks them both to the bedroom - it used to be a source of comfort for her, didn't it? At least it would be again.
The coupling is passionate. Desperate. All those things she was afraid she would do in this room, she does for him. She gasps. She begs. She pleads.
She screams.
When it's over, Mara stares up at her lover in wonder. How did I ever live without this? Without you? All those things that she can never express. Never put into words. All those things that will make this too painful. "Nathan…" In spite of herself, she smiles.
A thin lock of dark hair is brushed from her forehead, and Nathan, also, manages a smile. Something he has barely done since they'd first put this together, since they'd first decided what the inevitable solution was. He kisses her - just a light kiss at the corner of her mouth, as if to reward her own smile. "Mm. Let's do this again sometime."
Mara laughs. She actually laughs and wraps her arms - and her good leg - around Nathan. "I promise you. Every night for the rest of my-" The laughter changes from genuine mirth to sorrow. "For the rest of my life…" She actually finishes the thought and stares up at the man. "Oh… Jesus."
"Seen a man survive a bullet to the chest, Mara," Nathan says softly. He's told her all this. She's probably aware of some of it anyway. "Seen him go from stone-cold dead to perfectly fine. Alive." He needs to make sure she understands this. Needs to make sure /he/ understands this. "You're not done here." He moves off her, untangling from her arms.
The words weigh down on Mara's already troubled mind. She slowly eases herself up into a sitting position, pulling the sleeves of her dress back into place and peering around the room. This will be the last time she sees it. "…Are those my knickers on the doorknob?"
Nathan gets to his feet beside the bed, readjusting his clothes with a casualness he doesn't feel. Even /this/ hadn't relaxed him entirely. He glances back at her, and her question, and cannot at all suppress or hide a smirk. "Had to get 'em out of the way."
"Good job, cowboy. …Now what'd you do with my crutches?" Mara leans over to peer down at the floor where her crutches are well out of her reach. "A little help for the cripple, eh?"
Stooping to pick up her crutches, Nathan hands them over. Maybe this will be the last time she ever uses these things, too. And if it all goes awry… it definitely will be. Try not to think about it. He offers his hand as well, to help her off the bed.
Mara slides off the bed with Nathan's help, smoothing out her dress once she's back on her feet. Putting her underthings back on is a task in and of itself, but she manages to do it. She grins at him finally, running her fingers through her rather messy hair. It looks oddly fashionable on her, however. "Do I need to redo my makeup?" The lipstick's a bit smeared (on his collar, no less), but otherwise she came out just as good as she looked when she went in. Maybe better, now that she's got that bit of a glow about her.
Nathan pretends to look at her critically, squinting, before his hand cups her jaw. Using the pad of his thumb, he very lightly smooths out a smear of lipstick, almost pushing the colour back where it's supposed to be, hand dropping once more. "No," he says. A beat. "What I meant to say before, was, you look really…" Really? Really what, Petrelli? Just compliment the woman. Sexy. Beautiful. Amazing. …ah, fuckit. "Come on." His hand slips into her free one, stepping towards the door.
Mara can't help but smile at the words unspoken. "It's okay. You don't need to say it." She grasps his hand firmly and then heads back toward the kitchen with his help. Her grip tightens when she finally lays eyes on his perfectly tied noose. "Oh… Oh God, this is it." She turns her head quickly to give him a very serious near-glare. "Do not let me chicken out. No matter what, don't do something stupid like /save/ me."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Nathan says. Oh irony. He brings her hand up to kiss the back of… then lets it go, hands sliding into his pockets. Heck no is he picking up that noose and he's not letting her use the excuse of having no free hands to wriggle out of it.
Mara takes one deeeep breath. Two. Three. Three is a good number. Maybe four? No. Five. Five has always been her number. Five is good. She picks up the tied rope and turns it around in her fingers. "All right… Let's just…" She stops trying to put it into words and limp-marches to the front door, tying the free end of the rope securely around the railing of the landing outside her door. She puts the loop around her neck and then sets her crutches carefully aside, propped up in the corner of the rail. Almost gracefully, she braces her palms against the iron and hoists herself up to sit on it. The left leg easily swings over to the other side. The right, however? "…Bollocks."
She's doing it. She for real is doing it. Every fibre of him screams in panic at the sight of Mara sitting precariously on the edge of the landing with a /noose/ around her /neck/, but instead, he is outwardly calm. Very calm. He walks outside, stepping on to the landing. At her utterance, he sees what the problem is, and gently, he helps steady her and bring that injured leg over the side of the railing. For a moment, he holds her there, forcing himself to look at her. But then he steps back, before he can decide to not let her go.
"Nathan." Mara reaches out to reel him back in for one last brief kiss. Her kiss goodbye. "I love you," she promises one last time. Then, she turns her head back around so she can stare out ahead of her. She actually laughs. Bitterly. "Fuck you, /Gabriel Gray/."
It's almost slow motion as she slides herself forward and off the railing. She marvels at the way her skirt billows out as she drops. This moment in time, captured now, would probably look beautiful. The stuff posters or prints are made of. If not for the rope around her neck that stops her descent rather artlessly. The shock of it causes a (quite literally) strangled cry to escape Mara's lips. It didn't break her neck, just as she hoped. Or maybe she secretly hoped it would have. How long goes by? Twenty seconds? A minute? Finally, it starts to happen.
Nails come up to scratch at her neck, scratch at the rope. Legs kick out and one shoe drops to the pavement precious few feet below. "Nathan!" she tries to scream. "Nathan, I've changed my mind! I don't want to die!" But the screams are barely audible with the rope against her windpipe. The words are barely words. The frenzy of motion slows. The kicking stops. And then her arms fall limp at her sides.
They say that those that suicide always regret it. Just at the last moment. Nathan had hoped Mara wouldn't. He shuts his eyes at the sound of her screams, the half-words, hands gripping the railing until his knuckles go white. He doesn't watch, but he waits for silence, for the sense of still motion, for the sense of abandonment. When it comes, there is no one there to hear it, the one, dry sob he allows himself, before he wrenches his hands free of the metal bar.
A moment later, he is gone, shooting straight up into the air. For such a dramatic exit, it is completely silent. But a few moments later, the sound of an explosion, high above, as something breaks the sound barrier. It's still not fast enough.
She beat the clock. Pretty, unseeing hazel eyes stare out. Unfocused, the body dangles, the last remaining signs of her struggle leaving the lovely girl to sway back and forth in time.
Tick, tock, tick, tock…