2007-05-10: No High Heels For A Week


Elle_icon.gif Jane_icon.gif Peter_icon.gif

Summary: Elle's hurt. Peter can heal. And then there's some ambient awkwardness that will bite them later.

Date It Happened: May 10th, 2007

No High Heels For A Week


PHONE: Your phone begins to ring. The Caller ID says 283-4658.

PHONE: You answer your phone, "Elle?"

PHONE: Elle speaks into her phone, with the has-been-crying voice. "Peter? I'm at Den of Iniquity. I need help."

PHONE: Peter goes from normal sounding to serious in about an instant, "What— what happened? That's— That's in Brooklyn right? It'll take me a while to get there… Are you okay? Do I need to get fast?"

PHONE: Elle says, "I have a hole in my foot. I don't think I can walk on it."

PHONE: Peter makes a distressed sound, then she might be able to hear him moving around quickly, grabbing a few things. "I'll be there as soon as I can. Are you going to be inside the Den or outside?"

PHONE: Elle takes a long silence as she gets information, then finally answers "I'm going to be out front. A woman named Elena is helping me." She looks back to Elena. "Elle."

PHONE: Peter pauses for an instant, before he says, "I'm— glad you have help. I'll be there as soon as I can."

PHONE: You end your current call.

=After Arriving In Brooklyn, After Elena Leaves

Elle gasps as the pain starts back up. It clearly distracts her from Elena trying to make her departure. She'll drop in later to thank the young woman for all her help. She looks back at Peter. "Owowowow…the numbness is going away. Heal it, please." she says, after Elena gets clear.

"I'm so sorry, Elle— I can't believe she did this to you in a public place," Peter murmurs, shaking his head as his hands move to her ankle. He glances towards the departing young woman, giving her an incline of his head, but nothing else really. Has to act like he doesn't know her. Something which kills him deep down. Hiding something from people he cares about… it's not his favorite thing in the world. "I'll do what I can, but this— might be beyond me. I'll take you to— to your father's hospitals if I need to." Because this could well be beyond him. Even then… as he holds her ankle, some of the damage starts to flow away, the most serious damage healing quite a bit.

Elle winces. She feels bones knitting, and at least the open -hole- in her foot seals over, but it's still pretty hurt. "It's okay. It could have been a lot worse." She looks frustrated. "I was trying to get the painting back for your friends at the bookstore." That's right, she was actually trying to do something nice.

"You— you were doing it for my friends…" Peter repeats softly, not quite disbelief in his voice, but definitely a form of shock. Emotional shock, in fact. "Yeah— it could have been a lot worse. She could have completely destroyed your whole foot." If it'd been the toe of her shoes instead of her heel— he's not sure how much of his girlfriend's foot would be left intact. With no further healing happening, he lifts up her foot to undo the bandage, wanting to get an opinion of how much damage remains, feeling her foot much the same as he'd done the other night— only this time without half the sensuality. It's all business.

Elle nods. "And…ow…I stopped by and met Heidi." she says, looking to Peter. "She's really…ow…nice." Her foot still has torn ligaments. Definitely no heels in her future for a few weeks.

"You've still got some tearing… I'll probably wrap your foot every day for you, to add support— and you'll need to stick to flats for a while," Peter explains, knowing that— quite possibly he's done all that he can. "You met Heidi? Yeah— she's a good person. I'm glad you liked her." He likes her too, obviously. She's his sister. Glancing towards the Den, he starts to stand up. "Do you want me to take you back to your place?"

Elle nods. "She was there when I brought Nathan his present." If that doesn't get a doubletake, it ought to. "My car's right over there…" she indicates it. "Maybe you could just drive for us?"

It does cause a double take, and widening eyes. "You bought my brother a present?" Peter asks, words coming out slower than they probably should, as if he's not quite sure he comprehends. But at the same time. Oh right, cars. People actually do /have/ them sometimes… "Yeah— yeah, I can drive," he adds, moving to pick her up. "Guess flying can wait til next time you get injured— though you didn't care much for it last time."

Elle smiles. "I just don't want to leave my car here. And…yes. I wanted to thank him for bringing Rianna to help. I didn't really know what to get him. I got him a fruit basket." she says, a little defensively. Hey, she tried!

"That's really sweet of you," Peter says, hugging his girlfriend close and drawing close enough to kiss her hair lightly. "He likes ties, and— alcohol," he says, for later reference as he carries the small blonde girl in the direction of her SUV. Hopefully he won't wreck it trying to get her back to her place.

Jane and Elle's Apartment

Elle is trying to ignore the OWPAIN in her foot. "Thanks for coming to get me." Someone is on an attempt at socializing, maybe.

Nice enough to do most of the work both getting them there, and inside the apartment, Peter even helps her over to the couch, before he settles down beside her. "I'm glad you called me. Just— wish you hadn't ran into her again. This is the second time you've gotten hurt because of her…" Because of him, in a way.

Elle shrugs her shoulders. "It's okay. I wanted to get the painting back. That wasn't going to happen without going to her."

"So she— wasn't grabbing it for your father? She was— stealing it on her own?" Peter asks, looking over at her curiously. If it'd been for the Company— she wouldn't have gone to /her/ to get it back— "Don't— don't risk yourself like that again. She could kill you— easily. If you want to get it back, then call me and— maybe we can get it back together." At least then he can take as much of the damage for her as possible. The two sit on the couch, just gotten inside, the door closed and relocked behind them.

Elle shakes her head. "I didn't want help. I figured if I got the painting, it might smooth things over with the bookstore crowd, and that would be better." And would make getting the list easier.

There's a sound or two down the hallway, toward the bedrooms. A door opens, a few seconds pass, then another opens and closes. Jane came out of her bedroom and entered the bathroom, then closed the door behind her? Probably.

Glancing up towards the sounds of doors opening and closing, Peter calls out just once, "Jane?" to let her know that he's there at least, before he nods to Elle. "I get it— but— she's dangerous. You know what she did to me. Your father might even have it on tape if you want to actually see it." He's not exactly sure what kind of bugs they're talking about.

Elle looks back. "I'm dangerous too, Peter. She didn't come out of tonight unscathed. But we were in public; I wasn't willing to go full out on her." She looks back towards the back. "I should bring Jane up to speed."

Her stay in the bathroom is brief, Jane emerges a minute or so later and walks down the hall toward the main room, thinking she heard voices. A male voice in particular. She's clothed for bed. A pair of old cut off shorts, a long pinstripe baseball jersey with the Yankees logo showing Jeter's name and number on the back. "Hey, Elle, Pete," she offers on seeing them, holding back a yawn. "Night." And she's starting to head back toward her room.

"I'm aware your dangerous— but unless you can get a blast off before she snaps you in two pieces…" Peter doesn't want to assume that his girlfriend will just be okay. He'd rather be there to do something about it. "I don't like thinking of you being hurt— anymore than you like it when I get hurt," he notes, giving her that much. There's only so much a boyfriend can handle… But as the other woman starts to yawn and dismiss herself, he calls out, "Jane, hold on a minute."

Elle waves a hand to try and catch Jane's eye. "Jane, can you come here a second?" She looks back to Peter. "I know. But just like you have things you have to do, so do I." She considers. "I should see if the bartender there knows how to get ahold of Elena. I should get her something nice."

She stops in her tracks, just past the main room doorway, and turns around. Jane was sleepy and headed for bed, but words still register in the brain. Hurt? Blast? Snap in two pieces? Elena? She just spent a good part of the day with Elena. "Yes?" she replies, walking over to pick a spot and sit.

Something about what Elle's said seems to have made Peter a little anxious, and he reaches over and takes her hand gently in his, before he looks towards Jane. "Elle got into a little trouble at— at the Den. Ran into Jessica. You should be staying off your feet as much as possible the next couple of days— and I sure you'll have reminders." He's trying not to talk about Elle as if she's not there, at least.

Elle nods. "Yeah…" she says, sounding annoyed. "Thank you, Peter." She leans in and gives him a kiss, before looking back to Jane. "Your roomie's an invalid for a bit."

"Jessica," she replies slowly. Concern enters the voice as Jane studies the blonde for injuries, eyes lingering at the feet since Pete said she should stay off of them, and she asks "At the Den of Iniquity, in Brooklyn? What happened there?" She's at least a bit more awake now, the name of the place seems to register as familiar.

As Peter doesn't know what happens, he doesn't say anything, looking towards Elle for the story. Something about this has made him anxious, though— perhaps because his girlfriend got hurt?

Elle looks frustrated. "She decided it would be fun to staple my foot to the floor with her high heel." she says. "Stepped right -through- it. Peter healed it mostly up, but not all the way."

That draws a wince, and a murmured ow from the brunette. Jane reaches down and perhaps rubs her own foot a few times, as if just hearing about such a thing made her foot ache. "That's just… vicious."

"Yeah— And she was— she was just trying to get the painting back," Peter explains softly, looking towards his girlfriend. The anxiety hasn't completely faded, but there's a stunned manner to him. "For the bookstore." In case Jane doesn't understand what painting he means.

Elle shrugs a little. The attention to her moment of weakness (translation: altruism) is a little uncomfortable. "It's all right. I'll manage it." Cause letting Jessica win, not an option.

"Do you need anything, Elle?" Jane asks, not sure if the blonde will take it, but concerned and wanting to offer anyway. Curiosity is present as well, although some names she doesn't repeat. Instead her next words are a question. "Jessica works at the Den now or something?"

With the blodne woman's uncomfortable streak, Peter reaches down and picks up her hand, drawing it to his mouth to place a kiss there, pretty close to the ring he bought for her, in fact. "You don't have to. It matters enough that you'd try."

Elle smiles. "Some painkillers might be nice. It hurts like a bitch. And I may be kind of hobble-horse around here a while."

Getting to her feet, Jane enters the kitchen. She returns carrying ibuprofen and water to swallow the tablets with. "I can only imagine." True words, the unspoken part being how much she wants to not ever find out firsthand.

"If you need something stronger…" Peter pauses for a moment, knowing that some morphine-type pills might be called for… "We can go to your father. They should have plenty at their hospitals." If he were still working as a nurse he could get it, but alas, he's now working at a bookstore— that hasn't full reopened yet.

Elle shakes her head. "No, we can't. Not without him wondering why I need it. He doesn't know I did this. And it can stay that way."

Jane's eyebrows raise at the mention of stronger pills. "I wouldn't want to use the harder stuff unless I had to, anyway, unless the pain were enough to make me unable to function at all. They can be hard to kick when you're healed and withdrawal's a bigger bitch than the foot injury, I'd think." Issues? Yes, she has them. That cold turkey experience just got dragged back into mind.

"Only some of them. There's plenty that don't form habits if you take them in the recommended doses," Peter says, the nurse part of him coming out. Actually almost all pain pills, even over the counter, can be habit forming if relied on too often. "It was only as suggestion for if there's enough pain." A suggestion they won't be taking, it seems. "Good thing I was able to heal most of it." Though he's not sure the extent— if Elena's right— if the heel went all the way through… "You'd've needed a hospital and physical therapy at the very least…"

Elle grins a little, smiling beamishly. "My hero." she says, and kisses Peter on the cheek. "Over the counter should be okay. Low body mass plus high pain tolerance should both dovetail nicely here. Anyhow…thank you both."

Leaving the ibuprofen with Elle and the water glass too, Jane begins heading back out into the hall. It's time to resume Plan A: Bed. "You're welcome," she replies. "Good night to both of you. And try not to keep me awake moaning." A teasing smile is flashed as she turns the corner.

Though he's smiling as he's called a hero, hers especially, Peter's eyes downcast at what Jane says, a sheepish look appearing across his face. At least he has the good nature to feel embarassed about that. "Good night, Jane." His brother'd had the same complaints! Which is half why he'd been anxious to get back to his apartment…

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