Season 3 Content Warning!
Starring:
Summary: Father and son talk after being teleported a day into the future.
Date It Happened: February 12, 2008
Could Have Been So Much More
Deveaux Rooftop
One moment the two of them were in an office with two women. The next they're standing on a cold rooftop, open to the sky. They'd never know it's actually a day later than it was a few seconds ago. There's no rain in this part of Manhattan, luckily, but there's overcast skies and it looks like it could decide to eventually. Peter's hand, clasped around his father's arm, releases and steps back, putting a very small distance between them. The noise of the city can be heard both above and below. Planes flying overhead, ground traffic… The city's definitely alive. "Your company… certainly throws a good pitch, dad." There's a stubborn anger in his voice.
One instant, the office, the next instant, the Deveaux Rooftop. Arthur recognizes it all too well once he and Peter arrive, but it doesn't stop him from taking a look around. "I haven't been up in here a long, long time," he says to Peter, glossing over his remark about Pinehearst. Turning back to Peter, the man frowns, crossing his arms over his chest. "You really shouldn't have done that, son. Those people could have used my— no, our help."
"What makes you think I would ever help you?" Peter asks with a tone of defiance, possibly even bordering on disgust. "You lied to Gabriel, tried to turn him into a weapon for your own gain… you've killed people." A man he knows of, at least. Right in front of his daughter. "You might not have anything to do with what's happening to Nathan, but you certainly aren't helping matters." Logan. He keeps his attention on his dad, rather than the roof around them, but not too far away is the place he killed a man… "And those people who are attacking you? They might have a very good reason to do so. Like Claire. Your own grand-daughter. You're holding her like some kind of lab rat."
"That is Gabriel's purpose. It has always been his purpose, and it always will." He pauses, considering Peter and his words, before speaking again. "What about you, son? Isn't this the exact place where you murdered Kaito Nakamura in cold blood?" He steps forward to Peter, closing the distance between them one step at a time. "Claire is in good hands. She's perfectly fine. As for your brother, he knows what the future holds. He's taken his place at my side where he belongs, much like you should, Peter. I can help you."
The rooftop has always been kind of a default place for Peter to go when upset. At the mention of Kaito Nakamura, though, he might regret it. There's a visible flinch and he takes a step away, reflexively, giving ground and maintaining some distance. Still getting closer, though. "Claire is not fine. She's being held prisoner in a room! Away from her real family, her real life." That determination remains in his voice, focusing his anger at his father. "Who the hell are you to decide what anyone's purpose is? Mine, Gabriel's, Nathan's. You don't control everything."
"We all have our purpose, Peter. Me, you, your brother, Gabriel, your niece, your mother, your friends. Some of us are choosing to accept our purpose in life, embrace it fully, and carry out what must be done." Arthur pauses, offering a hand to Peter, the frown on his face relaxing. He looks at his son admiringly, a small smile creeping up on his face. "I've been keeping tabs on you, Peter. You've had some struggles, but I know you can make me proud. I've missed you, son. Come give your father a hug, and I promise when we get back, I'll make everything right."
"You're not the one to decide what my purpose is," Peter says in that same defiant tone, biting back another emotion. He's looking at the frown, the hand, the small smile. The words are pulling against him, but anger and frustration are overpowering it, determination. "You can't make everything right," his anger breaking through. The offer of a hug… it gets a response in another step backwards, another movement away. Tension lines his shoulders and his jaw, clenhing his teeth together, making his voice even more raspy.
"You don't know what that… thing inside my brother has done. You can't give Claire back everything that was taken from her, and whatever the hell your biotech firm is really up to— " Dangerous ground to get on.
As his voice raises, though, he takes a dangerous step forward, getting just a bit closer. It's meant to add force to his words. "My purpose? Is to stand up to you and anyone like you."
"No, Peter, I'm not the one to decide your purpose. I already know what your purpose is, but it's your choice to embrace it, son." At the rejection of the hug, Arthur retracts his hand, crossing his arms over his chest once again. "We can protect you. Your brother and I. We can protect your loved ones. You'll never have to worry about the Company taking them ever again. I promise that I'll make everything right, Peter. You are my son, and I am your father. It is my duty as a father and a man to protect you. Won't you let me do that?"
It was so much easier to be defiant and stand up to this man before they started to speak. Peter can't help it when his anger deflates a bit, a hint of worry that he's being irrational slipping through his mind. Maybe everything he's seeing is tainted by what happened on this rooftop… There's a sudden shake of his head. No. This man's Company is holding Claire. She had given up hope in the dream. There wasn't much he could offer her in comfort other than assurances the he would come for her— or that her father would. "How will you protect them? Are you going to lock them up like Claire? Use them for their abilities?" The Company…
They haven't entirely earned his trust yet, especially not after everything they've done, everything they will likely continue to do. Even now he's not sure which one is a bigger threat to the world, to those he cares about. They both are offering a bargain. Protection. Both are controlled by his parents.
While a lot of the force has left his words, he maintains some of the defiance, "I don't need your protection."
As Arthur watches Peter, his brow furrows, jaw tensing a bit, as he tries to get into his son's mind and read his thoughts. The more ammo he has to convince his own flesh and blood that he belongs with him, the better. "Claire… is a delicate situation. There's more to it than you know. Claire is the one that helped me escape my paralysis, son. Did you know that? … do you even know what your mother did to me? I highly doubt that she told you. She is your mother, after all. That's what she does. Lies. Deceit. Anything she can to further her own interests, even resorting to the murder of her own husband. I'm telling you the truth. We're trying to make the world a better place. Primatech has lost sight of their vision, their goal, and Pinehearst is here to pick up the pieces they've left behind." He pauses speaking for now, still in his son's mind, trying to glean some sort of information that can be used to finally convince Peter into seeing Arthur's twisted version of events.
"I know exactly what Claire was used for," Peter says, even though he's flinching intentally at a lot of what's said. There's even a twinge around his eyes. "And mom told me that she tried to kill you— that… that she thought she'd succeeded." Who is right? Who is wrong? Primatech tried to use him to blow up New York City. Was his father in on the plan? He's telling the truth… Or claiming to. The tension starts to settle as his eyes drop away, looking from the man, to the rooftop that once had a greenhouse on it. It's now bare of most forms of life, but it has it's pigeons. The dark sky means there's not much to see by, but it doesn't take much to make out the dark shapes of the birds, and no light at all to hear the sounds they make.
This is where he trained to try and prevent that future that his mother had originally wanted for him. How can anything so terrible have made the world a better place? "How?" he finally asks, looking back. The defiance has faltered. "How will you make the world a better place?" The stress is on the repeated word.
"First and foremost, not using my own son as a bomb to destroy the city." Yes. Arthur can see right into your head, Peter, and pluck out anything he wants to and use it against you. "That was never my intent for you. You are meant for great and amazing things, Peter. Just like your brother. The three of us will save the world from people like your mother and her wretched Company. I never wanted to hurt you or take the ones you love. I know we took Claire, and the circumstances under which she was brought in were…. unfortunate." Arthur knows all too well how Logan managed to get Claire. Of course, Arthur couldn't care less about what happened to Claire. She's simply a useful resource. That's something he can't let Peter know, however. "As for her current predicament… that's only because she can't behave. She gets that from her grandmother."
"Prove it," Peter says in a whispered voice. Though he could be aware of the invasion, in theory, he is not that drastically— his mind isn't ready to defend itself. His father is much better at it than the telepath he encountered. No feedback, no obvious intrusion. Though he was told of his father's ability and that makes things a little different. "I know you can read my mind," he says, calling him on it. Whether he can stop it or not, Gabriel told him his father could read minds, telepathic in some way. "You're could just be… telling me what you think I want to hear." This accusation was made once, a long time ago, to his brother.
"You never believed in me before…" All those years growing up, the disappointment in his father's eyes. He remembers it. He remembers how his father couldn't even say his chosen profession outloud. Being a nurse wasn't good enough for him. He'd never be good enough. "What changed, dad? When did I suddenly become good enough?" He's not moving away anymore, even within arms reach.
"Is this not what you want to hear?" Arthur says, turning to look out over the city as he speaks to Peter. He has no reason to deny he's reading his son's mind. "That you can be protected, that we can help your loved ones be safe?" He reaches a hand out to Peter to place on his shoulder. A loving gesture. "I can't apologize for the way I've treated you in the past. I didn't believe in what you were doing because I knew you could be so much more. A true hero. A protector. Someone that can help me save the world. That's what you want to do, isn't it?"
That fact that it is what he wants to hear should make it even more suspect. In a way it does, but at the same time… Peter can't help but shift his eyes to his father. He wants to believe his father means every word of this. He wants him to think he's a better man, that he can be a hero, a protector. He wants to save the world. A purpose. And most of all he wants to believe that, for a change, his father believes in him…
The hand isn't pulled away from.
"What about— what about Nathan? You must know what's happening to him. If you can really read minds— this isn't him. And… I won't agree with holding people prisoner in a lab, no matter how… much they can't behave. Whether it's for their protection or not."
"Nathan's… doing what must be done. He may not realize it yet, but he is a crucial asset to Pinehearst." He doesn't say athing about the fact Nathan is not him normal self, and that an evil alter-ego is at work. It's not important. What is important that Peter isn't pulling away. "Like I said… it doesn't matter what you agree to, Peter. You have a purpose of your own. I'm sorry."
What he's sorry for may not make sense at first, but it all will soon. There's no telling how Peter will react, but suddenly, out of nowhere, he'll begin to feel a drain. An indistinct blur in the vague shape of Peter spills out of him and into Arthur, rapidly. The patriarch of the Petrelli family turns towards his son, gripping his shoulder, nails digging into his flesh in order to keep him at bay so he can absorb all of his powers.
"It's not Nathan, dad. He needs help," Peter says, not giving up this train of argument even if his father seems of the belief that his brother is doing exactly what he was meant to do. It does matter what he agrees to, at least to him, and the apology catches him mildly off-guard. Apologizing for not wanting to help Nathan? For the other things that Pinehearst has done in the name of a greater good? Of 'saving the world'? That's when the drain hits him. At first it just feels… off. Things slip through.
The first indication of what happens comes in the form of a sudden burst of fatigue, something he's only felt happen when he stepped into Rochelle's presence, and the Haitian's. Then there's pain. A lot of pain. Pulling back, he lets out a yell, trying to escape the vicelike grip. Some of his more reliable abilities slip through the cracks— but one does power up. A shimmering formless thing appears between them and expands rapidly, pushing the older man away, and forming a protective bubble around the youngest son. The vice-like grip is still felt, a hand coming up to touch it. Bruising under the surface. "What did— what did you do? What did you do?"
His voice is panicked. It didn't do all of what it should. The forcefield is testiment enough to that.
"I did what I had to, son." He holds up his hand in front of Peter, and suddenly, his hand covers itself in ice, cold steam rising off of it, the temperature difference in the surrounding air causing the effect. The power ceases, and then another— a crackle erupts, holding a small ball of electricity in his hand, much like Elle Bishop does. Next, a small shove with telekinesis in Peter's direction, forcing the man back a step or two. He ceases his display, smirking at his youngest son. "I took your powers. They belong to me now." Arthur may know that Peter's attempt at stopping him broke the connection, and in turn preventing him taking all of his son's powers. He has no intention of letting Peter know this, however. The less informed he is the better. "Unfortunately, I'm going to have to take you back with me. Soon, our family will be together again." Ominous. His hand suddenly crackles with electricity again, and Arthur reaches out towards Peter, intent on grabbing him on the shoulder again to give him a nasty shock.
The push ends Peter up against the edge of the roof. Ice. Lightning. Telekinesis. They're his abilities. The forcefield fades out, never something he could hold long. Took his powers. The fatigue pulls on him, reminding him of just how little he's slept in the last… five months. Electricity doesn't come to his hand on command, the bruising along his shoulder doesn't fade. And his father is moving toward him.
What can he possibly do, if he's lost all of his abilities?
"No." A last ditch effort to defy. He'd given his trust, he'd actually been willing to listen. For a time. The man had a lot of explaining to do, his help wouldn't come without major changes. But the only escape he can think of right now is perhaps one of the stupidest ideas he's ever had— well, since the last time he did this.
He pulls himself up on the ledge of the roof. And jumps.
TO BE CONTINUED…