2008-04-15: Finally


Heidi_icon.gif Logan_icon.gif Niki_icon.gif Peter_icon.gif

Guest Starring:


Summary: Never let go of hope. One day you will see that it all has finally come together. What you have always wished for has finally come to be. You will look back and laugh at what has passed and you will ask yourself… 'How did I get through all of that?'

Date It Happened: April 15, 2008


259 West Broadway

A slim black phone is plucked off of the glass surface of a coffee table by feminine fingers. Lights — bright, in contrast to the evening — from buildings in the Tribeca area reflect onto the surface of the table and phone both, until Niki brings the phone up in front of her as she strolls through the room of the loft apartment.

"You sure you're ready?" she says, her thumb hovering on the keypad under a screen that highlights 'NATHAN PETRELLI'. She's dressed to kill tonight, perhaps literally, what with the all-black attire: boots over skinny jeans, a long black tank, and a fitted, but unsashed, stylish trench on despite the fact that she's inside and the weather is pretty nice. Her hair's pulled back as tight as it can go, hanging in slender ponytail. "'Cause once I hit this button…"

"Sera's" eyes narrow. This woman has a certain cruelty to her that Heidi's face could never possibly hold. It's a lack of innocence, something almost sinister in the dark brown eyes.

However, if this woman has any rage reserved for Niki, she doesn't voice it, instead opting to take a deep breath, take a stroll over to the window, and nod. Beyond the face of Sera Fairfax is Heidi Petrelli - her memories, her carefully-guarded feelings, and the knowledge, that Niki and Nathan have—

Making sure the window is unlocked - it's sort of an idle gesture, because who really knows how he'll arrive - she shoulders it open, stepping back from it, keeping her eyes on the sky beyond. "Maybe he won't eveen come," she says. There's a hopeful note in her voice at the start of the statement, that somehow manages to fade near the end. "Yeah, I'm ready. Do it."

Another step back, and she dips her shoulder enough so that her fingers can trail along the glass surface of a high table. They wrap around a small wooden box - something that would normally be used to store things such as pencils, pens. Small knives.

"I just want to make sure," Niki says. Because everything is about to shift. And whatever happens tonight, it's very likely that things are about to change. …Well, maybe. "And you're right, he might not."

One way to find out. The blonde takes a second to herself, turning away — just partially, in profile — from Heidi. As she brings the phone to her ear, pressing the send button, she tosses her head, loosens her shoulders, shoves them back; her whole poise changes, her whole expression.

Somewhere, there is a very nice apartment. There aren't any blood stains on the carpet, no bodies in the closet. Not even any dust on the shelves due to the daily cleaning service that ghosts in in the morning, in the afternoons. It's pristine, clinical, and almost completely untouched. Nathan would give anything to be able to break or ruin something here, to affect the prison outside his own personal cell, but all he's been reduced to, lately, is fleeting phantoms in the numerous reflective surfaces.

The phone rings out around the time Logan is undressing for the day, down to an untucked shirt and slacks, bare feet quiet against rich carpet as he moves to pick up his cellphone, glance at the ID. It reads 'NIKI SANDERS'. When he opens it, however, and speaks into it, the woman is addressed as, "Jessica."

Heidi looks away at the phone call is made, though she can obviously still hear it. For this occasion, she's dressed all in black, too, though far more casual than 'Jessica' is. She'll blend in with the shadows, just in case Logan were to, say, find where she's hiding and look right at her. Speaking of which, it's to this pre-ordained secret hiding place that Heidi creeps off to. Niki, of course, knows where it's at. Hopefully Logan won't have a clue. If the stories are accurate, he'd have no reason to suspect anything.

Of course, plans don't always go well. She's prepared for that, too.

She still loves him. Somehow, though, this seems, to her, like it will be way too easy. Maybe hurtiing him is in his best interests, or maybe Heidi's just convinced herself of that.

The voice that answers is telltale enough for Niki's Logan-attuned ears. Her features play into her voice, even though he's not here to see them in person. Neither is Heidi, who she watches disappear. She smiles, wicked and canary-like, and turns to face the window. "Got something for you!" As chipper as 'Jessica' can be, she adds, "I know it's a little late, but… thought you might wanna know I'm about to kill your brother dearest."

There's a beat of a pause, not even the sound of breathing on the other end of the line, Logan turning, also, towards the wide open windows that are fixed into one wall of his flat, looking out on Manhattan. He paces towards it, raises a hand to rest a palm against cool glass and meets the eyes of a reflection in much the same pose as he, phone up to his ear and all, but a world of difference in expression. Anger. Resignation. Loathing. Logan smiles as he addresses the woman on the other end of the line. "No rest for the wicked, huh? No raise until it's done, honey."

She imagines she can hear Logan's end of the conversation. Heidi's somewhere past jealousy, though. Even past anger, to some degree. All that is stuff she can feel vaguely in the pit of her stomach, but she so cold now that it's hard to care. For Heidi is a ninja, and ninjas care about NOTHING.

That's what Simon told her once. When he was going through his ninja phase.

Monty was a pirate.

Maybe one day, they can all be a family again. Not likely, thinks Heidi to herself. Backing farther into the shadows, she finds her hand wrapping around something; turning to look at it, she realises that this isn't in the plan, but she's owed anyway.

Looking into a window pane of her own, there's no reflection save for a transparent replica of herself. Niki's visage has faltered and it's really herself looking back at her, eyes sensitive instead of cold and hating the things she's saying. She shuts them and forces a devious smile to help the indulgent little laugh she gives Logan. "Mmmmmmh, I'll be sure to get you a souvenir." A beat. "Meet me after. 259 West Broadway. Then we'll see about a raise."

Niki ends the call.

A small, aborted sound never makes it to Niki's ears as Logan starts to protest, or agree, or simply reply before the dial tone is ringing in his ear and he's quite suddenly alone in his apartment. Mostly, anyway. After. After Peter is dead. It shouldn't be that easy.

"It's not going to be."

Nathan is almost alarmed when he hears his own voice ring out into the apartment, before he's moving swiftly for the door. He has no plan, no weaponry against a woman with superstrength, no shoes even, but he has to do something in his limit of given freedom. Perhaps throwing himself suicidally into an unknown situation isn't such a bad idea, all things considered.

"Slow down, cowboy," comes the insidious whisper of Logan's voice, reflection catching in the corner of Nathan's eye and jerking him to a halt to glance balefully at the irradiated face of his enemy in the opaque mirror of a framed photograph. "You don't know where you're going, now do you? It's over, do you understand? Are you getting an idea of the situation yet? They're dead. So are you. Look around you. I've won."

He wouldn't be lying, exactly, and the honesty in his words lends them a sort of avid conviction that Logan's ice cold nature sometimes lacks, sentiments often coming out like used car salesman sentiments but not this time. Nothing here belongs to Nathan. Not even the clothes he's wearing anymore. It's been too long. And it only takes that, small comments, small truths, that have Logan easing him out of the driver's seat once more, as much as such catastrophic things like the deaths of his family can shake him loose again.

Not so long after, after taking his time to get redressed, to select a nice shirt and a matching jacket, the figure of a man ghosts along the edge of a window, and with a comet's speed, darts up into the sky, disappearing into the oily black before he finds where he's going to descend again.

The window is open — nudged a few cracks beyond its unlocked lock in the interim, letting a spring breeze in. It's a vast window, taking up nearly the whole of the wall.

One lamp on, everything else dark. Empty living room, save for the few furnishings it holds. A few coloured scarves thrown over things here and there to give it life, but otherwise it's cold. Exposed. Brick walls, high ceilings, all beams. The door beside the kitchen is ajar, a stream of light filtering out.

Inside the bedroom, between a shiny new mirror on a closet door and the end of the richly-hued queen-sized bed, "Jessica" stands with her back to the door in front of a flimsy white kitchen chair. There's something — someone? — in it, and the blonde is holding a gun at her side. Courtesy of Logan the day she was assigned to his security.

There is nothing not cool about flying. Let's get that straight. It even has a sound effect attached, but, only if you listen creatively. Because he's mostly silent, first just a shifting speck in the distance, hovering for a moment, before rather abruptly dropping from the sky at an angle headed for the large window. Like most people this evening, Logan's chosen black, for the practical purpose of flying low without being seen too easily, unless you're specifically looking for a flying man. Shirt, jacket of the same jet black colour, slacks a dark shark-grey. Hovering for a moment, his fingers curl around the edge of the open window, levering it open further before swinging himself inside, not even catching his foot on the edge as can occur so easily. When he lands inside, Logan doesn't do anyone the courtesy of shutting the window again, only looking around the apartment, gaze steering towards the bedroom where the light streams out. "Jessica?" he calls out, not with uncertainty, more of a greeting as he moves towards the door, hand out to bat it open.

Niki turns her head ever-so-slightly, listening. Her eyes narrow ever-so-slightly, suspicious, though by the time the door is batted open, she's smiling over her shoulder. "You got here awfully fast," she points out as if amused, casual despite… the circumstances. "What," she prompts with a scoff of a laugh, stepping aside in one languid hip-rolling gesture to reveal the chair… and its occupant. "Come to see the show?"

The occupent would just happen to be the man who'd just entered's younge brother, tied to the chair. Shirtless, beaten, there's unhealed wounds on his face, on his chest, bruises that aren't disappearing as they should be. Dark hair falls into his face, and a gory slash bleeds from across a broken nose, and between swollen eyes. It looks like Niki decided to see just how much the boy could look like Rocky's son and made a point about it. Why he's not healing, though…

That could have something to do with the empty bottle of pills laying on the floor nearby. Or maybe something else. Who knows. Either way… when Peter looks up, one thing is clear. He's not healing as he should be. Through puffy and watery eyes, he looks past the abuser, to his brother, the man within his brother. "Na— nathan…" he manages to get out, voice whispered, pained, and a hint of some kind of desperate hope.

She can almost see them from where she's at, and she can certainly hear them. He breathing is so slow, though, she's so god-damned calm, that she's surprising herself. It's as if she's done this a million times before, or maybe the simple act of going over it enough is clear enough in her own head that she's not nervous or tense. Or maybe she is, but she'll just feel it later. At least if Logan sees her beforehand, he won't recognise her.

Unless Niki's been lying to her. The thought has crossed her mind. Logan could know everything… But that's paranoia talking. Not everyone is bad in the world.

Peter's words bring her back to the situation at hand. Briefly, she tenses. No, not yet.

It could be one of those make or break things. Let Nathan witness the death of his brother or find himself shattered to pieces in an effort to stop it. At first, Logan doesn't react, eyes settling blankly on the bound and beaten form of Peter, assessing and judgmental, before a gaze of similar coldness rests on Jessica. As if maybe nothing needs to happen, maybe Logan hasn't won, and yet— "Why haven't you done it yet?" Logan asks, casually ignoring the broken plea of his alterego's name. "Haven't you ever been told not to play with your food, or do I get the honours?"

Jessica does like to play with her prey, if the bloodied, beaten appearance of Peter is any indication. "Not that he's not— " She gives a little laugh under her breath that would be a giggle, if it weren't injected with so much devious pleasure, and crouches down by the side of the chair to trail a finger down the captive's chest, over the wounds. " — fun to play with, but actually…" She springs back up. "I was asking him a few questions. Like what he knows about Pinehearst and what dirty little things he's been up to. But hey— " She holds up the gun, turning it this way and that, considering it, then considering Logan. The gun is in limbo, loose in her hand. "I think I got all we need."

"Nathan, please…" Peter pleads painfully while he looks through the haze of blood, moisture and swelling skin. Really not looking too good, for a play thing. Then again she could have been going easy on him once he stopped being able to heal. Maybe he's counting on his brother to bail him out of this situation. He always had before… Except things are different now, aren't they? The ropes seem to have dug into his wrists, blood dripping down his hands, fresh as he tries to move a bit. He's not getting anywhere.

Not Peter. It's not her job to save Peter. Maybe that's cold of her to think, but the one she's really after here is Nathan. Or, Logan, rather, since it doesn't seem like Nathan has anything to do with this rendezvous. It makes her all the more determined to fix what's happened to her husband, and at any cost. She'll know when. And as much as she'd really like to stop what's happening to her brother-in-law… Well, she can't. Not until it's time.

Logan's mouth twists into a smile of approval for Jessica, simply giving her a nod, before brown eyes are cast down to the gun in her hand, held so casually and invitingly. Peter's words make his hand's journey to take the weapon hesitate for a second, and it's hard to tell if its a genuine hitch, or if its for show. Not so longer after, however, Logan's hands close around the gun, taking it from Jessica's hold and letting it settle in his hand easily, finger hooking expertly around the trigger. His arm extends, letting Peter look down the barrel at an inevitable, point blank range.

Logan doesn't have to say that Nathan isn't in right now, that Nathan is gone, or anything of the kind - this should be message enough. And it's not even going to make him feel better, just accomplished. Without flare, uncaring of who might hear what in this building, and unknowing of a fourth presence within these walls, he fires the gun.

There's a moment when their eyes meet. Time doesn't slow down. The bullet doesn't stop in mid air. It just hits him right in the middle of the head, impacting his forehead and sending him flying backward until the body smacks into the floor heavily. Blood splatters behind him, beside him, wet, hot and very real looking. Only a small bit will get anywhere near Logan, but at that range, a drop or two may land on him. Blood? Feels pretty real…

After the gun is whisked from the blonde's hand without a hitch, her hand stays in midair without time to move as the spectacle ensues. When the shot goes off, Niki flinches. Her whole body jumps and her eyes flash with uncontrolled shock. For an instant, as her face is suddenly speckled with blood and god-knows-what from the nearby carnage, she looks sick. It's just an instant before she gets herself under control, but it's an instant that Jessica would never have experienced at all. "Do I still get a raise?" she forces herself to purr, forces herself to step around the body to Logan, to reach out to touch his jacket familiarly as if they didn't just commit murder… all while desperately hoping he didn't notice her falter.

Wide brown eyes watch from her hiding place.

Something's gotta give. Something. Peter can't —

When the gun goes off, Heidi flinches, closing her eyes, gritting her teeth together as she feels a coldness shiver through her, bile rising in her throat. No, that wasn't part of the plan, either, but at least what she's feeling means she hasn't completely lost all her humanity. She's not completely cold.

Murder tastes like sick.

Allowing a moment to collect herself, she finally opens her eyes again, looking down at the floor, waiting.

Logan takes a step forward to peer over at Peter's crumpled form, hand tense around a still pointed gun as if maybe Peter were about to spring back up at any second. He wouldn't put it past him. But there's nothing, not a twitch, just the steady spread of blood that hasn't already been spattered with bone and matter all over everything.


Logan forces himself to relax, drawing in a breath and turning towards Jessica. No, he hadn't noticed her reaction, and he lifts a hand to wipe the back of it against his face which only helps to smear the solitary droplet that managed to kick up his way. "Oh you get a raise," he says, a twist of suggestion in his voice, not giving her back the gun just yet— he's unsure he could unlock his grip around it if he wanted to— even as he moves to circle his arms around her. Almost too soft for Heidi to hear, Logan leans in to murmur into Jessica's ear, "It's quiet in my head."

Niki keeps a close eye on that gun, looking at it out of the corner of her eye even as Logan moves in closer. Eventually convinced it's staying where it is, she gives a faint smirk to Logan, her hand roaming to his upper arm — his gun arm — via the sneaky route of under his jacket, past the lapels. "Shh." She looks straight into the murdering Senator's face with smoky-rimmed eyes of cold blue and deadly come hither, while behind his back, with her other hand, she makes a 'come hither' gesture of another kind toward the closet door.


The dark eyes narrow again. A silent snarl is evident on her lips. Not Heidi, really. Even if she's not having near the same problem Nathan is, she has to distance herself from the caring mother and loving wife, or else she is going to end up with problems way beyond what she wants.

Logan killed Peter. Nathan couldn't stop it. It's another tick on the ever-growing list of terrible things this man has done.

Sera simply appears. Fingers slowly curled around the mirrored closet door to push it open, behind Nathan. She could just stab the syringe into his shoulder. Easy, efficient. But all the rage comes tumbling out in one fell swoop as she aims to crack her husband over the head with a bat, with all the power she used to break Peter's jaw.

As soon as the bat comes down, there's a loud sob. Her arms raise again, and unless someone stops her, she's going to hit him again, and again, and again.

He's turning his head by the time the weapon finds purchase. The sudden wrench of the closet door opening, the beating of feet against the floor and then the sound of something cutting air as it makes its arc through it. No time to actually look by the time the world suddenly seems to split into bright white.

Logan's body jerks violently against Niki, falling into her until the floor jumps up and comes to meet him, the gun tumbling loose from his hand and somewhere Logan can't comprehend right now as a terrible pain stabs needles through his head, vision split once, twice, the world swaying drunkenly around him as he collapses.

A low groan, animalistic in a sense, guttural and pained, comes up from deep in his chest and forces out between gritted teeth, even as he tries to get his hands and legs beneath him, to get up, too dazed for now to think beyond such necessities and oblivious to the fact the woman is about to bring her weapon down on him again.

Niki stumbles, not under Logan's weight, but the sudden speed and awkwardness which he's falling to the ground. She's nearly on the ground herself by the time he falls, and as Heidi's well-deserved rage explodes, Niki is crouching. "Stop it!" she says in a voice so urgent that it winds up squelched and low. "Stop it!" she manages to shout, next, launching at the woman, trying to wrangle the weapon from her grip. Easy, if she can grab it in the first place. "That's enough!"

Her expression is as feral as Logan sounds. Having kept her calm about her all this time - even when she was supposed to be dead - it's become impossible to hold the rage at bay any longer. Her face is damp from the tears that have somehow found their way from her eyes - which are wide, dilated, and almost inhuman. She's not beating Nathan, she's destroying Logan.

Killing him.

Her eyes are still fixed on him as Niki finally takes hold of the bat, and sense begins to creep back into Heidi's mind. The weird thing is, she doesn't feel sorry for what she did - not really - as she allows the bat to be pried from her fingers. It shouldn't be too hard, given Niki's ability, and the fact that Heidi's strength is ebbing from her own adrenaline rush. Side-stepping away from Niki, nearly stumbling over nothing, she leans, shoulder to the closet door, watching the man wearing Nathan's face like a hawk watches a rat.

Oh god it hurts. With the shock of the impact gone, now a low, throbbing, red-feeling kind of pain takes place. He wonders, distantly, if his skull is fractured, and it's a struggle to even stay conscious - he could slip at any time. Another groan, this time accented with a hint of trying to speak defining the sound, and even as Logan gets to his knees, his elbows and eventually at least one hand, the threat of concussion threatens to drag him down again.

"Jessic…?" he finally mutters, as he brings a hand back to where the bat hit him, evaluating the film of red on his fingers before he ignores the woman, both of them actually. Jessica is his security. She'll deal with it. Where the hell did his gun go? Oh, there— his hand goes out in an attempt to grab it, movements sluggish but with a sort of mechanical determination.

Niki, yanking the bat away, gives Heidi a look that rapidly goes from angry and aghast to understanding in a heartbeat. She stands with the weapon at her side, frozen for a moment, frowning at Heidi-as-Sera, before tossing it aside. She doesn't notice Logan's desperate crawl for the gun; she's quickly on her hands and knees at the end of the bed, not so far from where he fell… and where her knees get soaked in the spreading pool of another Petrelli's blood. She hauls a box out from underneath the bed, starting to quickly rummage through it, nimble but too-rushed fingers searching out key items. Duct tape, handcuffs…

There's still work to be done, though. This whole thing - could have been made a lot easier if Heidi hadn't decided to attack Nathan with a bat. The pills were on the floor for a reason. And, sure, they're sort of bloody now, and more than a little gross, which Heidi will reflect on later and probably be very sick to her stomach, and there could be vomiting involved - who knows - but for now, the objective is to make sure Nathan doesn't escape. So she grabs a handful of the pills.

Grabs the back of Nathan's shirt.

And then, she will proceed to attempt to force at least some of that handful down his throat, while Niki searches for the other stuff. Hey, he can't fly away if he can't fly, right?

In a single swing of a bat, chaos has erupted within the room. And Peter is lying dead just a couple of feet away. Logan's fingers brush cold metal by the time someone is gripping his shirt, pulling the collar tight against his throat with the yank, and all he can think of is to attack. It's like trying to grab an injured animal, one that's getting a sense that it's been cornered.

He swings his arm around the time he feels a warm hand try to grip onto his face, to force the pills past teeth. No bullet is fired, but the weapon is whipped around to crush and batter in at least one blow, aimed for a face he doesn't recognise.

The box in Niki's possession drops with a shudder of various items, followed rapidly by a clatter of metal as she drops the handcuffs — drops everything. She whirls around, pushing to her feet. Everything is happening so fast— she might be too late, but she grabs at the blur of Heidi being attacked, trying to pull her away from Logan.

It was careless. That's what Heidi realises just about the time she starts seeing stars. Her first thought is that there are no stars inside apartment buildings. Then, she thinks, these are pretty clearly stars that she's seeing, so for a moment, she thinks that maybe she's outside.

There's a couple seconds of blank in her memory before she finds herself leaning against Niki. Her face is on fire, but she can't tell if the blood smeared across it is hers, or compliments of the bits of her brother-in-law all over the floor. She's not quite dead weight in the blonde woman's arms, as one foot manages to find the floor underneath her. It feels like something's broken. Her eye is swelling shut.

Reaching into her pocket, she withdraws the box she took off the table earlier. Inside is the serum that Mohinder gave to Niki. "I can't," Heidi says. Mostly because she's seeing two Logans at the moment, and she's not sure which one needs it. "You have to do it."

As if to add to the decor of spattered blood, Logan turns his head to spit what drug did makes it way into his mouth. Broken pills, mostly, blood tainted, now in a spray on the carpet of the bedroom, and he slowly drags the back of his hand over his mouth, ridding himself of the bitter taste.

Blood makes crimson spider web patterns down his face, seeping from the injury to the back of his skull, and the droplets change direction and course as he raises his eyes from where he lies crumpled not so far away from Peter. The gun is heavy in his hand, too much so, but he lifts it anyway, the aim wild but always threatening. "Who are you?" he asks, in a voice as though his words are being summoned from a million miles away. He's going to pass out, already dangerously courting with that thin line between his consciousness and Nathan's, although the presence of a milder alterego doesn't try to fight back at the moment. No need to give anyone a reason not to do what's necessary. He shot his brother in the head, after all, and he's not getting back up this time.

Logan squeezes the trigger of the gun again, but it goes wild, buries into wall plaster without anymore gore.

Not-quite-dead-weight is practically no weight for Niki; she maneuvers Heidi easily to the bed, taking the box from her in-between them. "It's no good without…" She starts to mumble, only to instinctively duck down and hug the other woman close to her when the gun goes off again. That can't happen again. If Logan stays awake even for another minute, that's another minute he could fire and not miss. She rushes from the bed and— she goes straight toward the barrel of the gun, sweeping at it viciously with her boot.

Her face has been exposed to Logan now. there's really no reason to hide her identity from him or anyone else any longer. This appearance will eventually vanish; why renew it again, only for Logan to chase after someone else? Perhaps she'll need a new face. A new identity. But not this one.

Dazed eyes that barely hold any of the anger they did before, attempt to meet the man's eyes. It's hard, though, with the room spinning like it is. She starts to say something, then realises she has to spit out a good amount of blood - and a tooth - before she can.

In that time, the gun goes off.

During Niki's reaction following the shot, Heidi kneels on the floor. "Angel, Nathan," she says simply, looking from the floor to the double image of his face.

The gun goes whipping from his hand to land useless somewhere out of his reach, a small grunt of pain coming from the Senator as Niki's kick hits true. Everyone— alive— in this room has two names, it seems, swimming gaze managing to land on— Angel's, Heidi's— with a look of true shock.

She can't be alive. The world tilts, and not only from a head injury, and Logan crab-walks his way away from both women, until his back hits the wall and the reverberation in his head makes him wince. Then, a low chuckle judders out of him, hands curling in the carpet. He smears blood on white walls when his head tilts slightly, staring at the woman who can't be her— then towards Jessica. A smile, blood-stained, cold, and his words come at a slur. "Niki, right? Come closer an' I'll kill you. Both've you." It's a genuine promise.

While the man realizes he's been betrayed, the kicked away gun vanishes off the ground, almost seeming to shimmer. Likely to be missed considering the situation.

"No. You won't, Logan," a voice suddenly says out of nowhere, or perhaps everywhere, and the sound of a gun firing happens once again. The barrel isn't even seen, nor the hand that holds it. Just the sound of a shot, the bullet ripping through the air. The same gun that fired a bullet into the head of a certain Petrelli now fires one at another…

And as the sound of the shot echoes, the room shimmers and shifts, the body in the chair vanishing, and a darker, uninjured man appearing holding a smoking gun. A scar digs into his face, marking him quite different from the younger version that had appeared to be in the chair. The chair remains covered in blood, the rope as well. Even if the body has faded, it looks like not everything about the situation had been illusion…

Niki watches the gun skitter. She's not going to let it outta her sight this time. Or— never mind. When the weapon disappears, the resentful gaze she had reserved for Logan falters and she immediately whips about to look around the bedroom. Gunfire— "PETER!" What the hell is he doing?!

The shock is enough to bring a smile to the woman's lips, though not quite enough for a chuckle. The expression fades as dark eyes look back down at the floor, which wavers closer and farther away as she stares at it. Hey, there's a lot of blood down there, isn't there? Where's that adrenaline rush now, Heidi?

If there was a race to see who'd be sick first, Heidi wins it, leaning forward on her hands and adding to the mess on the apartment floor. Sorry, Niki. They'll have to clean this up later or something. To her credit, though, Heidi doesn't pass out, though that's mostly credited to the gunshot that wakes her up again, staring eyes looking toward the source as she forces herself to her feet.

And somehow, she can't bring herself to look at Logan. She's afraid as to what she might see.

The sharp cry of pain pierces through the room, Logan's whole body jerking when the bullet goes tearing through him. Blood in the air again, some more, an eruption of glittering red as fine as a swarm of gnats hangs in the air before only crude red droplets ruin the decor some more.

The sound of Heidi puking is interrupted only by wheezing, pained gasps from across the room, choking breaths forced in and out.

The dark gray of his pant leg goes darker with crimson. Knee impacted, imploded, he's not going to be walking for a while, and Logan has his eyes squeezed shut, as if in denial that Peter is somehow still alive and he doesn't even see the scar, or see the difference, or much of anything with his eyes closed. All in all, it could have been worse.

The man could have shot him in the forehead. But it does its job, Logan is subdued, silent and trembling from the effort not to black out, and of course the pain. But no threats, no wild anger. Not yet.

It could have been so much worse. As one of the women turns to yell at him, Peter lets the gun lower away, so that she knows he's not about to fire it off again. "You're weak," he grates, looking down his nose at the man trying to remain conscious. It's not difficult to do such a thing right now. No one has ever been a bigger critic of his brother than Peter himself. And he's got a little more experience on things than before. Enough that he actually pulled the trigger.

There's many reasons why he would, and the fact that his older brother's alter ego coldly shot him in the forehead, a wound that was supposed to be fatal to him… it's enough to make him a little colder as well.

"He won't be going anywhere," he adds, to the two women still in the room, holding onto the gun.

Unlike Heidi, Niki looks straight at Logan, at the damage done to … Thank God, just his knee. Breathing heavily, she looks between Logan and the very alive Peter, over her shoulder to Heidi and a glimpse of the baseball bat somewhere behind the bed. She takes a second to absorb everything, and then she charges for Peter and shoves at him with the palm of one strong hand. "What the hell is wrong with you people?!" her face twisting into ferocity. "He wasn't going anywhere before you shot him!" she accuses Peter; then it's Heidi's turn. "And you, you coulda killed him!" Niki's voice lowers just a twinge asshe all but grits her teeth. "Nathan is still in there."

When she can still hear him breathing, Heidi dares a look over her shoulder, which is a mistake, because she's hit with another wave of dizzyness. Flexing her jaw, she's not surprised to hear a crunching, creaking sound just below her eye indicating injury.

The dizzyness passes, and in combination with that and Niki's reminder that Nathan is, indeed, still inside the body of the killer - because somewhere along the line, she started seeing Logan as the owner of the body, and Nathan as that weak consciousness that she was able to love - the rage does, too. Regardless of the destroyed knee and the concussion, Heidi makes her way around the bed, and looks Logan in the face. "I'll talk to my husband now."

He's gone pale. Shock will do that to you, drain blood from your face and make you go cold. He's shivering a little beneath black clothing. At least he's nicely dressed. Logan opens his eyes to look up at Heidi's unfamiliar face, disbelief still evident there. This isn't hurt, it— has to be a trick, but that doesn't make sense. Or maybe it does. He can't quite think right now. He's not screaming, but his leg is, and his concussion is a weight on his eyelids.

Whatever this is, Nathan can't know. Nathan can't know.

"Go to hell," Logan growls back. Uncaring that Niki is harpy screeching for at least his body's sake, uncaring even of Peter's presence right now.

"Do you have any idea how many times he's killed me?" Peter suddenly snaps at Niki, after he steps back under the shove of her hand. There's something dangerous in his eyes, something dark seated. Part of the plan had been his, but there were things he never clued at. Like exactly how he's felt about how many times he's died at people's hands.

Come to think of it… she killed him once too, didn't she?

Instead of handing the gun back, he starts to take it apart, unloading it, pulling the clip out. All like someone who'd recieved at least a bit of training with guns in the past… Or the future.

A glance is tossed to Heidi, who still doesn't quite look like herself, before he begins to try to move around Niki and in the direction of the woman who is supposed to be the man's wife. "We need to put your face back, Heidi." His voice still sounds cold and even bitter, but… he's a cranky man sometimes.

"I killed you too once," Niki is, in fact, quick to remind Peter — she's angry when she says it, but there's an unsure flash of doubt in her eyes after the fact as she tracks his movement, turning. "Jessica. Logan. They're a part of us!" she shouts again, insistent, speaking on behalf of the nearly unconscious man on the floor, too. She follows Peter to Heidi — this is all too close to her heart, her mind, for her to pass off so easily. "You said that you didn't blame me for the things I've done," she points at Peter, "Nathan is your brother." Who is going to be sore.

Her nose curls up when he refuses. The words would have hurt in the past, but now, she's struggling just to stop herself from striking him again.

In a way, she hates herself for allowing him to get to her this way, and she hates him for being so completely unable to reign Logan in. She would have never considered violence before, but the truth of the matter is that it's severely addictive, almost easier than reason. "Yeah," she says to Peter, agreeing, though not taking her eyes off of Logan. Nathan has to know. He has to.

That temper almost turns to Niki when she has the audacity to chastise them for what they just did. "I lost my life because of Logan," she states. There's so much wrapped up in that one statement that she doesn't have to explain it. Her optimism, her livelihood, her cat, her kids. All gone.

Words words words. So much noise. Logan's eyes slide shut as those words continue, and he doesn't have it in him to be in any way grateful towards Niki, the betrayal stinging sharper than most emotions he knows. A whimper, uncontrolled and pure pain, escapes his throat as he attempts to drag himself up to sit, a hand raising to clasp over his forehead, feeling the coldness there, the sweat standing out on his skin. The world is edging away, but still, he battles the tide of concussion, and stays crumpled and silent in place for now. Blood leaks out onto carpet, circular and dark red and growing.

While certain people might try to imagine this whole thing isn't happening, Peter touches the woman first, hand resting on her cheek. The transformation doesn't fix the physical damage that happened to her, nor does he make any more to heal her right now, just takes away what he'd given her, the Sera identity, the new face. Those are gone, melted away as if they never were.

"I can forgive him, but right now he has to earn it." There's that bitter sounds, dark, cold, quite different from the man he's supposed to be in this day and age. Not that he's quite the same at all. "It wasn't an illusion he shot, Niki," he says with a rumble in his voice. He hadn't exactly explained all the details of the plan to them… There's no move to reach for his brother, even to stop the bleeding just yet. Not physically reaching for him, at least. Something does reach out. No one else can see it, though,

"Logan. You're going to crawl back into the corner of my brother's mind. Right now." That of course means Nathan has to deal with the intense pain…

Niki tenses, teeth clamped shut, on hearing the details of the plan come to the fore after the fact. "I'm not saying that Logan doesn't deserve it," Niki says, reigning in her voice. "He does." She looks down at the man on the edge of consciousness, kneeling down beside him — harmless now, she figures — while looking up at her co-conspirators. "But Nathan doesn't." There's… something akin to sympathy in her eyes as she looks back to the Senator, concern even though he's still Logan, last they heard. Maybe not, now that Peter's said his demands. She remembers her own alter ego in Technicolor memory these days. It's hard not to see herself — to see Jessica — in Logan.

The process sort of tickles all over again, though it's hard to feel through the pain. It's not much of a comfort knowing that Logan hurts a whole lot worse than she does right now… But that knowledge helps. A little.

It's not too much longer before Heidi is in front of Nathan, and not the face she'd come to call Sera. Her hair is different now - no longer the jet black it's always been before, but streaked here and there with grey. Her eyes, though - bright blue and clear, though pained. Then there's the scar that still weaves its way down one side of her face. It's definitely Heidi.

The first thing she says with her voice is to Niki. "Yes. He does."


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