Starring:
Summary: This scene no longer exists in canon, it has been retconned. It is being posted as a deleted scene.
Date It Happened: April 2nd, 2007 - or Never.
Breakdown of Epic Proportions
Petrelli Mansion
It's early in the morning, and Nathan is awake, sitting at the desk in his den. It is possible he didn't sleep, if the fact that he's wearing exactly what he had been wearing the previous night is of any indication. But he has things to do - more specifically, phonecalls to make. Today's newspaper is lying in front of him on his desk, though he's not looking at it as he talks to a journalist. A deal is being made, spinning a story about how the people of this city need to be aware of these kinds of things, but in the end, it is promise of a small but significant cheque and some strings pulled for extra information that wins over the man on the other end of the phoneline. Nathan sets the phone down, leaning back into his chair, hands up to rub his face. Then, he picks up the phone to call the hospital. Need to keep track.
Besides a lot of phone calls and making sure people knew what was going on with Sylar, that Molly and Mohinder were okay, Peter's day had been eventless. Besides the whole… getting a newer and better phone. In fact, today had started out normal, making breakfast for his girlfriend in the large Petrelli kitchen while he listened to the radio. Then the news came on halfway through making the omelet. Luckily, he had the mental capacity to turn the stove off and trash the omelet /before/ running out the door and trying to find which hospital or morgue she'd been taken to. Invisibility is quite helpful in this, sneaking in to see the body, see the preliminary report. He's not invisible when he stumbles back into the house. Still early in the morning, and goes straight to the Den. From the haunted look in his eyes, and the red rimming areas of an otherwise pale face— he's got enough of an idea what happened. Seeing his brother on the phone, he just stays quiet for the moment, but there's a great deal of tension in the way he stands.
The call is finished quietly, Nathan wrapping it up quick when he sees someone step into the doorway, out the corner of his eye. Lifting his gaze to Peter, he sets the phone back down. The newspaper in front of him is flipped closed and tossed to one side, as he makes no move to go and greet his brother, although he does tilt his head in a way to invite him in. "So you've heard," Nathan says. He looks like a wreck as well, but not an emotional one - just tired, tense, but rather calm and collected.
Seems one Petrelli being an emotional wreck would be more than enough. and it usually would be Peter, wouldn't it? Stepping a little further inside, he closes the door so the women in the house don't have to overhear and approaches a little closer, though maintaining a physical distance to represent the emotional one. Voice hoarse and deeper than normal, almost whispered, he speaks in a tone very unlike his normal one. "You knew that's what she was doing, wasn't it? You knew that— you helped her— This is what she had planned."
To his credit, Nathan doesn't deny it, nor does he look awake from Peter. He's important in this, after all. "I told you," he says, almost gently. "It was a bad plan. But it was the one we had to work with." He stands up, moves around his desk. "I helped her, yeah. And I need your help now."
"Son of a bitch," Peter looks away, almost flinching a bit. That's an expression his brother should know well. Disappointment and pain. "You— you cared about her. How could you let her— could have faked it." Glancing back up, his eyes are still dark as he looks back at his brother, but now they have fresh moisture. "I went to the /morgue/, Nathan. I /saw her/. There— how could you not talk her out of that!?" Yes, it's very obvious that he would have tried his best to stop this, even if it meant physically stopping them.
"Faking it wouldn't have worked. Not for Gabriel Gray. He needs to see she's dead," Nathan says, firmly. There's no waver of doubt as to whether this was the right thing to do. As far as he is concerned, it was. He almost smiles, now, a flicker of fond amusement that comes from a place of irony. Because he's in no smiling mood. "This is why we couldn't tell you until after it was done."
Once he'd rounded the table, this had been a possibility. But something about what his brother said here, or maybe the flicker of ironic amusement, makes Peter tense up and do something he rarely ever does. Throws a punch, right at his brother's face. "We could have found another way together! You— god damnit."
GAME: Peter has rolled BRAWL and got a result of GOOD.
GAME: Nathan has rolled STAMINA and got a result of GOOD.
Ow. Whether or not Peter was just fast or Nathan let's him have it is unclear, but the punch lands, regardless, sending Nathan stumbling. Bringing a hand up, checking for blood and finding none, Nathan straightens up again, and shoots Peter a look - a glimmer of anger. "That was your last freebie," he says. "This was Mara's choice, Peter. And it's /done/, now."
Looks like one freebie is all he needed, because almost as soon as his brother finishes talking, Peter lets out a sound, an exhale that's so tense it's almost a whine. The moisture in his eyes falls, and he backs up a few steps and then kneels down. The fist that hit his brother gets pressed with the other hear his face, and he murmurs in a slightly higher pitched tone, "I promised— promised I'd save her. Why couldn't she— why couldn't she trust me to…" That's as far as he can get. The tension in his body definitely isn't one of fury, that's for sure.
Nathan watches, almost distantly, as Peter kneels, unreadable to the point of blankness. "This is saving her, Pete," he says, finally stepping nearer. He crouches down, but doesn't touch his brother, almost a precaution of wariness. "We're gonna bring her back, and Gray will only know that she died before he could ever find her again."
"Nathan, you can't just…" Peter shakes his head, still knelt down against the floor. With a shuddered inhale he looks back up, moisture trails on his cheeks giving him away, while he keeps one hand near his mouth, almost as if he feels like he's going to be sick. "I could have watched her. We might have been able to stop him when he came to get her— stop him for good, Nathan." That'd been the idea he'd come up with, the one him and Elle had been using with Claire in mind. And now… "Now— now he's just going to move on to someone else— we don't know /who/." Well, they have some ideas who would be top of his list, but they knew /she/ was. "Even if…" Because it is an if. "If we can bring her back… this… this was wrong."
"You wanted to catch the bad guy," Nathan says. He meets Peter's eyes when the other Petrelli looks up. "Maybe when he finally came after her, maybe you could've saved the day." A minute shake of the head. "I wasn't going to let her be bait. I was trying to protect her." Now, he puts his hands on Peter's shoulders, close to his throat, firm and comforting at the same time. "I'm sorry." He might even mean it, too, despite the determine steely tone beneath the words. "But this was her choice. Now we need to honour it."
The hand on his back will easily feel the tremors shaking him, and the tension in his muscles. "You didn't respect my choice," Peter says, voice whispered and tight, as he shakes his head and pulls away from the hand to try and stand up again on his own. "I was willing to die to save everyone— you almost made me kill you instead." Standing isn't quite as easy as he'd like, but he does get to his feet again, and turn away, hand raising up to rub his face, trying to wipe away the tears.
Nathan stands swiftly as Peter struggles to his feet, looking as if he's been punched for the second time. "Excuse me?" he asks, incredulous, the calm and soothing facade he was attempting crumbling a fraction. "I didn't respect your 'choice', and we're both still standing here. Compared to your plan of getting shot, I'd say it was a net gain." He reaches out to attempt to turn Peter to face him. "And this time, it wasn't your decision to make."
There's definitely nothing said there that makes Peter look any better at all. In fact the tension that settles over him look even thicker at what his brother says. "Fine," he finally says in the tense whispered tone. No more arguing from him, it would seem. Maybe that's part of the tension, defeat? Hand dropping away from his face, he adds on, "Let's go fix it."
Nathan betrays a look of relief, despite the defeat and general unhappiness in his brother's voice. He nods, once, hands dropping down to his sides. "I don't want to wait too long," he says. "But long enough that Gray gets the message." A thoughtful pause, before he says, "What you can do. Claire's ability. It'll be enough." It /has/ to be, at this point.
"Fine," Peter repeats again, in the same exact tone. "I'm going to take a shower and finish breakfast. You can call me when you're ready." A couple weeks ago he would have jumped at the idea of testing this out, seeing if it would work with him. Right now, though… it almost seems as if he's been battered too much emotionally to even think of this as something he would like to do. The shower isn't necessary for any reason other than to calm down. Taking a step towards the door he closed, he's intent on leaving his brother alone for a while.
Nathan doesn't stop him this time, watching Peter make his way out the office without a word. He waits for the door to close once more, before he turns and makes his way back to his seat behind the desk. The newspaper is flicked open again, and he glances over the words FOUND and SUICIDE in almost indecipherable blocky letters. 'This was wrong'? Then, there's a quiet flutter of pages as Nathan impatiently pushes the newspaper over the side of the desk, swearing under his breath, and just closes his eyes. It had better've been right. Because this was beginning to become not worth it.
Peter and Nathan break into the morgue invisible and Peter takes Mara's body back to his apartment…
Peter's Apartment
As no one's been living in Peter's apartment for quite some time, it should be no real surprise that things are clean. The fridge is empty of food, the cabinets only have few nonperishables, and mostly there's just bottles of water and half a year old beer. Packaged sugar sprinkled into the water is the closest he could get to some kind of sugary drink. It doesn't help as much as he'd like, especially since almost as soon as he got her inside and onto his bed, and the sugar-water mix prepared… he hooked right up to her. At least long enough to give her the full pint of blood that he hopes would be enough. Or at least until he started to feel himself passing out. Now, up against the wall where he can watch her, he's looking for any sign of movement, breathing, anything. And don't mind the fact that the more time that passes, the more distraught he looks. Distraught and exhausted, face pale, even a little on the feverish side, and streaked with tears.
It takes Nathan longer than it should to reach Peter's apartment, and when he does, he looks rushed. He lets himself in, key already in hand by the time he reaches the door. "Peter?" he calls out, only just stopping himself from calling out Mara's name as well. He goes where it makes sense to go, the bedroom, and pauses at the doorway, taking in the scene. The look on Peter's face isn't quite mirrored by Nathan, but he looks grim as he sets his eyes on Mara's body, still lifeless looking. "Nothing?" he asks, quietly.
The double doors are wide open, giving easy access into the bedroom area. Peter doesn't stand up, but does look away from her for perhaps the first time since he settled down against the wall. "Nothing," he says hoarsely, reaching up to wipe at his face before he looks back towards the bed. "You know… I don't even know if Simone was buried," he says softly, an odd change in topic, but with the situation there's… only so much he can think about. "You said you called the police, but— I don't know what happened. I'm too afraid to look, and… I know Sylar killed Isaac soon after that…" Something he only knows about because of Elena. Those tears are falling again, the red rimming around his eyes really setting off the paleness of his face.
With the caution of someone who doesn't want to be there, Nathan steps further into the room. Peter has to be wrong, this has to work. He stands at the end of the bed, studying Mara as if making up for how he had barely looked at her corpse back in the morgue. Then, finally, he simply looks back at his brother as he speaks, disturbed. "Mara's not dead," he says, against all evidence to the contrary. "Peter, we need to focus. I need you, especially, to focus." He doesn't quite want to suggest what he's about to suggest - not yet.
A fresh batch of tears fall as Peter blinks, looking as if his brother's not understanding where he's getting at with this sort of thing. "It's not working…" his voice cracks as he says it, tightness in his throat causing the words to get drawn out in tone. "It's not working, Nathan. She— she was right not to believe— believe that I could save her. I can't— can't save her— you're counting on me and… I can't." Leaning his head back, he rests it against the wall and finally lets his eyes slide closed, giving up on watching for any signs of life.
Nathan approaches Peter. He could comfort, but he doesn't want to encourage this, the breaking, the defeat. That would mean acceptance. He, instead, stands still just in front of Peter, hands clasped behind him. "You can," he corrects. "There's still another way, one that's certain. Peter." He says his name again as if to draw his attention back to him, away from the grief of this. "I need you to talk to Claire."
One almost wouldn't think someone so physically weak and drained could push himself off the floor so fast and send a fist in the direction of his brother's face. Or that he could have that much physical strength left after all he's been through. Peter's not even calling on a power or ability for this. He's just throwing a punch, one he's got no intention of holding back on. "You /asshole/." And that's really as far as he can get on that, because almost as soon as the punch is thrown, no matter how much it lands, he's dropping back against the wall, looking as if he may pass out.
GAME: Peter has rolled BRAWL and got a result of GREAT.
GAME: Nathan has rolled STAMINA and got a result of GOOD.
This time, Nathan tastes blood, and for a moment, he looks like he wants to strike Peter right back. But ultimately, it is the way that Peter collapses against the wall that forces Nathan to turn away and work on regaining his composure. A hand comes up to wipe away that smear of blood. "We both know it's the only thing left to do, now," he says. "And we both know you're the only one she'll listen to. I can't—" A curse under his breath. "This can't end like this."
Sliding down the wall until he's sitting on the floor again, Peter's looking down at his hand as if the punch hurt him just as much as it hurt his brother. No physical damage will likely remain, but there's still something painful about what he'd just done. "How can you make me ask her to do this…? Do you even know— what the Company put her through? Why her father betrayed you and rejoined them to get her out of their hands? She's not— she shouldn't have to be responsible for this sort of thing. She's just a kid. She's /your/ kid— and…" He closes his eyes and presses his hand against his forehead.
If Nathan has a conscience, it goes by the name of Peter. That almost gets a wince from the older brother, although really, he's trying to keep all emotion and reaction under the surface. The facade is starting to lose it's effectiveness. He kneels down, now, in front of Peter. "This is all I'm asking from her," he says. "Nothing else, I swear to god, Peter. But she has an ability to save Mara, and I can't let that go."
PHONE: Your phone begins to ring. The Caller ID says 283-6785.
You paged Claire with 'Ignore my greeting, it'd be different for this.'
"You're placing her life— /Her/ life," Peter says, pointing towards the body on his bed. "In the hands of a sixteen year old girl who already said she /never/ wanted to be used like that again. She's /sixteen/, Nathan." And this would be when Peter's cellphone starts to ring. "Damnit…" he reaches into his pocket and flips it open and just about whines. "…It's Claire."
PHONE: Peter sounds rather drained, upset and generally overwrought, "Claire?"
Nathan moves back when Peter answers his phone, but doesn't stand up. In fact, he sits down, back against the bed. This wasn't meant to fall apart quite so spectacularly. He stays quiet, listening to the one side of this conversation he can hear, watching Peter all the while.
PHONE: Claire sounds… much the same, when she replies to Peter, except that there's a distinct anxiety in her tone. "Peter? God, finally. My dad isn't picking up. Peter, I'm—" Muffled, clearly to someone on her end of the phone, she can barely be heard saying: "You /knew/ he got them back and didn't say anything?" When she speaks again, it's into the phone. "Sylar just called me."
PHONE: Peter chokes softly, and a faint sound of knocking can be heard as if he just leaned back against something, "What do you mean /Sylar/ called you?" He sounds as if he might very well be sick. "How did he get your number? What— God, Claire— I can't…" It sounds very much like he's losing it on his side of the phone.
At the same time he speaks over the phone, Peter's looking up at Nathan looking so horribly helpless it's almost as if he's heartbroken.
At the mention of Sylar, now it's Nathan's turn to look like he wants to be sick. He meets Peter's eyes, briefly, before he has to look away.
PHONE: Claire is beginning to sound more and more like a despairing, lost little girl. "I don't know how he got it. Peter, I… I'm scared." Lowering her voice until it's just barely loud enough to carry, she continues, "He said he has his powers back. He wants mine."
PHONE: Peter takes in a slow breath, but his voice is wavering even as he speaks. "I'm so sorry. I thought you knew. I thought…" Another deep breath and he sounds just a little more composed, "Where are you? Do you know where my apartment is? The one I had before?"
PHONE: Peter says, "Okay… Can I come meet you somewhere? It may take me a little while to get there, but…" There's a distinct sound as if he's struggling to get to his feet, or something. "Just tell me where and I'll be there… as soon as I can. I'm at my apartment right now."
Peter starts standing up from the floor, pushing against the wall for support. To be honest, he doesn't look up for travel, but… he glances towards his brother, and the body on the bed with him.
Nathan watches as Peter climbs to his feet, then does so himself, reaching out a steadying hand for Peter. Now he looks again at him, and this time, it's almost a pleading look. He's already said what he needs.
PHONE: Claire says, "Hang on, let me ask Drake."
PHONE: Peter responds in a soft tone, "All right…" Before he adds on in a more muffled voice, as if he's moved the phone away from his mouth. "I know— I get it… just…"
Peter shakes his head, more than hinting that he'll do what he's been asked, but— there's a look in his eyes that also says 'don't ask me to do this for you ever again.'