2007-03-31: Inevitable And Unacceptable


Nathan_icon.gif Peter_icon.gif

Summary: Nathan and Peter go drinking. They discuss things with questionable coherency.

Date It Happened: March 31, 2007

Inevitable And Unacceptable

Fly By Night Cocktail Bar

A night out at a bar wouldn't exactly be top of Peter's choice of places to go. But it'd been a long and interesting day, and after he /destroyed his cellphone/ in a freak accident of power usage… it's not too difficult to get him to go out tonight. In fact, it might have even been his idea when he saw his brother. Hard liquor may not be his thing, but he's being mighty generous with his drinking tonight. Maybe he's absorbing the whole 'drunk' vibe off of others? It's possible… or maybe he just never had the right motivation to drink before, and the compounding stress is catching up with him. "You know— don't even know what ability I used to do this," he says from where they sit, holding up the cellphone whose monitor he shattered with just a touch. "Thought I was getting so good, had so much control now." Yeah, he's a little on the drunk side.

Nathan is indulging in his right to not fuss around with silly cocktails. The remains of a Jack Daniels on the rocks is in front of him - it's not the first one tonight, too. Despite this, he makes a valiant attempt to focus on his brother on the opposite side of the table, reaching out to take and inspect the shattered cellphone. "Is it glass?" he asks, angling it towards the light. "Reminds me've what Jane can do."

"It was plastic, I guess. whatever they make those screens out of," Peter says, dismissing a wave before he downs a decent drink off his bourbon, also on the rocks. Not the first of the night for him, either. Good thing they have a driver. "Jane was there, but I don't think it was her. I wasn't screaming at my phone. All I did was touch it." He shakes his head. "Hope no one needs me before I can get it replaced. Don't think very many people have the house number."

"They'd better not," Nathan says, casually sliding the cellphone back towards Peter. "When you move out, you can give the landline number to whoever you want, but not the estate." He gestures towards the brokedown cell with his glass, which is on a journey back up off the table. "I can get you a new one." The last of his whiskey is gone, then, and Nathan looks around for an employee to help him out.

"I can take care of it," Peter says stubbornly, sliding the phone back into his coat pocket as he gives his drink a small swirl, clinking the glass on either side. "Think I might move out soon, actually. My apartments big enough for the both of us." Us meaning him and Elle, of course. "Think she might miss the baths at the main house, though." They are, after all, quite large baths. There's barely enough room in his shower at the apartment for moving around. Or for two. "Heard you were stopping by Mara's today when I brought her breakfast," he brings up, while his brother waits on the waiter.

"Probably a good idea, for both of you," Nathan says, on the subject of Peter and Elle moving out. Then… clinkyclinkclink. That is the sound of the remaining ice in his lowball glass as Nathan rattles it in indication to a waiter. Booze. Pronto. Especially now. "Well you know, have to go visit her sometimes," he says, gruffly. "How do you think she's doing?"

"Yeah, figured you'd want a good night's sleep again," Peter admits with a clickclick of his own ice. Not because his glass is empty. He's still got a good drink or two left. It's more a fidget than anything else. "I— tried to show her something while I was there. Ever since I witnessed what she could do— her ability— I thought she needed to see something… better. Better than Sylar." From the sounds, so much revolved around that man, whom should take up residence inside no woman's mind. Ever. "Didn't quite have the effect I expected. Guess she's still… worried."

Nathan quietly orders the same when a staff member does eventually meander their way over, and he clasps his hands, elbows on the table. "What'd you show her?" he asks, with a slight frown. Obviously he's heard none of this. A hand goes back to rub the back of his neck in a slightly restless gesture. "She has a right to be worried."

"I know," Peter says, expression growing more serious by the moment. Yes, he knows things aren't moving in her favor, and the danger is great. But he has to believe he can do something to stop it. Leaning back, he reaches into the interior pocket of his coat and passes a photograph across. A survellience photo. Dated days after the very man he's showing this to had been cured of his scars. Of him. "Elle gave that to me the first day she came back to visit. Showed me that you'd been healed. For me— that picture symbolized hope. Wanted her to see that…"

Nathan's brow furrows, peering over at the picture, even drawing it closer, checking the date in the corner. He glances at Peter, a little awkward, and pushes the photo back towards him. "I'm— glad. That it did for you. And that you could give her that. Thoughtful. Not sure if I'm the symbol of hope right now, but the feeling's there, right?" That last part is a little looser than what Nathan might generally admit, and he's glad when a renewed drink is set in front of him.

"Course you are, Nathan," Peter says, accepting his precious picture back and putting it safely into the interior pocket again. Would his brother believe he's carried it with him all the time since then? He might need to fold it up and put it in his wallet come warmer weather, but this works for now… "Stopped what happened in those paintings once before. You can stop this one. Future's not written in stone, right?" That's what he'd said before flying him away.

"Yeah. But I'm not sure what the cost of changing the future is gonna be this time," Nathan admits, gravely, this time actually looking at Peter before his gaze darts back down to his whiskey. "And now it's a team effort. Not just me…" He doesn't want to say 'flying in', not when people are close by, so he sort of just makes a Hiro-esque swooping gesture with his hand.

"We're working together, yeah," Peter admits softly, though he doesn't think his part in saving the world last time had been as big as everyone seems to believe. He was what they saved the world /from/ after all… "Whatever the cost, we'll figure things out… She's a great person. Even if she hadn't been, though… no one deserves what Sylar will do to her." And that she's a friend makes it even more dire. But Peter experienced it. He wouldn't wish it upon anyone else.

"Gray won't get near her," Nathan says, gently. "I just. Can't promise that will save her." Now he's just being cryptic. He takes a long sip of whiskey. Need to take that edge of tipsiness off and dive straight in, at this point.

"What're you talking about?" Peter asks, looking confused. His brain isn't quite clear enough to get all the possible depths and meanings, though he's a lot better off than Nathan for some strange reason. Maybe regeneration kicking in, or more likely he's just /not/ drinking as much as his brother. Or as much as quickly, either.

Nathan drinks to drink, when he does, it's true. Another sip is indulged in before he sets the glass back down on the table. "Talking about beating the clock." He shakes his head, once. "Talk to Mara. Perhaps all three of us should. As long as you don't go changing her mind, that's exactly what's not needed." Very explanatory, really.

Explanatory my ass. Peter looks across the table at Nathan and wonders if his brother is too drunk to speak clearly, or if he's just not drunk enough to understand it. It's been a good while since his last drink. Seems he decides that a drink is exactly what's needed, because he downs a good sized sip before looking back at his brother, "Making even less sense than usual, you know. How you planning to beat the clock exactly? And why would I talk her out of it?"

"Because it's a very bad plan," Nathan says, with a sort of self-depreciating smile. "But it's one that's a guarantee." He thinks on that. "Ish." Another sip down the hatch. He dislikes plans that have 'ish' in them, but, what are you gonna do. "Talk to Mara, it's up to her." He makes a dismissive gesture, there - saying no more on that. "I care about her, Pete."

The care doesn't really surprise him, but Peter's frowning down into his glass. What he'd seen— what he felt— "If it's that bad of a plan… why haven't you talked her out of it? I care about her too, but— doubt in the same way as you." Taking another drink from his glass, he cuts it off there, before he asks something he's not sure he has any right to ask.

"It's the only one she's got, that she believes in." Now, Peter gets a calculated look (with a hint of wariness), and it's impossible nowadays to guess how much he knows. Only half a year ago, Nathan would dismiss this for idle musing, but my how the tables have turned, lately. "Yeah," he finally agrees. "I guess so." He almost grins at Peter, now. "You must think I'm even more terrible'n usual." Now is sort of the first time he's even alluded to the vision Peter had gotten back at the hospital.

The look gets returned for a long moment, expression serious and bordering on a little too much so. Peter finally glances away when the vision is hinted at, towards his glass, which he swirls around. Now it's on the empty side, and he's going to let the ice melt a while longer. "Don't think you're terrible, Nathan. Nothing's wrong with caring for someone…" After all, he once loved a taken woman… The daughter of a patient, even. Inappropriate in it's own way. Even if he'd quit his job and she had broken up with her boyfriend before he acted on it. And his current girlfriend? He knocked unconsious and kidnapped. "But…" There's always a but. He glances up towards his brother, "Heidi. You'd told me just… a week ago… that you wanted to work things out with her… That's why I'd been upset in the hospital…"

"I do." There's a concrete certainty in Nathan's voice, there, that even whiskey intake can't waver. "I'm just…" A few seconds pass as he mulls over how to word it. He flicks glances at Peter (and /those/ are plenty wavery, by now), and then just shrugs, awkwardly. "Drawn. It'll be over soo-" He cuts himself off, there, and finishes off his whiskey. Quickly.

Though his brother doesn't say all that much, Peter lets out a sigh and pushes his drink aside. He's definitely done now, from the look of things. Still probably not capable of driving, though. "What if it's not over soon?" He asks, catching on to exactly what his brother had been saying. "I know you're talking about her dying, not you ending it," he adds, shaking his head. "What are you going to do if that doesn't happen?" After all, he's certainly going to do his best to make sure that future never comes to pass.

"Then it'll have to end some other way," Nathan says, with a shake of his head. He, too, actually sets his glass aside. He's good for the night, more than likely, unless he wants to go stumbling out rather than a lazy zigzag. Peter, in that respect, is a bit of a defense mechanism - he isn't going to get blind drunk in front of his little brother, no matter what the subject of conversation. "I slept with her, Peter." This statement is said flatly, understated. "No where else to go with it."

As the truth comes out, Peter rubs his face for a moment, as if trying to make sure his senses are clearer, or trying to hide the wave of disappointment. Not that he hadn't expected it. "Nathan… this isn't a one time in Vegas thing." Yes, he's thinking of the blonde woman he rescued from falling to her death from a building. "This is someone you're friends with— someone you've been friends with for a while. Someone you care about. This isn't a fling." In some ways that makes it worse, in others, he understands it better. Still, he lets his hands drop with a sigh, "Just tell me you were careful, at least."

Oh, God. He's gotta go ask that. Nathan gives Peter a semi-incredulous look… and carefully does not reward him with an answer. "You're right. She's a friend. Harder to…" He gestures, vaguely. "Let go, I guess. I don't know." Awkward silence, and Nathan longingly draws back his whiskey glass to study. "I love my wife," he feels the need to put it. Just in case.

At the look, Peter says rather deadpanly, "I meant careful with her knee." Though the rest is important too. He was a nurse, after all. Harder to let go. He gives a small nod of understanding there. Even when he'd seen the two up on the rooftop together, he'd still wanted to hold on to how he felt for Simone. He had. Right up until… "I know you love Heidi," he says, shaking his head. "But if you're serious about working things out— you have to tell her the truth. Especially since I'm not going to lie for you this time." It's not so much a threat as the honest truth.

"Peter." Honest truth can be just as a bad as a threat sometimes, and Nathan squints at his brother, donning a certain tone of sternness. "Peter Petrelli. This is /my/ problem. You're not going to say anything to anyone. You don't have to lie but you won't be in a position to do so." A pause, then he adds with some irritation, "Of course I was careful with her knee." There look. He was careful. /With her injury/.

"Don't invite any reporters to family brunch, then," Peter says, shaking his head with a hint of a smile appearing on the corner of his mouth. See, he can have a sense of humor. It's not as if he'd been planning to run up to Heidi and go 'HEY GUESS WHAT!?' Does his brother think he's twelve still? "Guess we should call the driver around and get home. Elle's going to electricute me for this…" And it doesn't sound like he's joking on that part, as he works to get standing, and pick up his coat to put back on.

Nathan drags himself up to stand, trying to get back his sober legs. Like sea legs, only… not. "Yeah, well. Like you don't like it that way," is his response to that last part, before carefully zigzagging towards the exit.

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