2007-11-08: One Year Later

Starring:

Elena_icon.gif Peter_icon.gif

Summary: Peter calls Elena on the one year anniversary of him almost blowing up New York. Elena urges him to visit Charles Deveaux, and the two also get to talking about investigating Mr. Burnstein.

Date It Happened: November 8th, 2007

One Year Later


Over The Phone

She didn't know how long she had been sleeping, but when she wakes up her nose is on fire. Elena gropes for the box of kleenex situated next to her bed, and manages to grab it. However it slips from her grasp, and lands in a quiet thud on the carpeted floor. She bites back a curse. Rising slowly in a seated position, she gropes for it in one hand, while another hand rubs at her eyes to clear them. The guest bedroom looks more like it came from a clinic than anything else. Excedrin and Tylenol in their little bottles litter the beside table, as well as a few more of cough suppressant and Vitamin C. There are a few books piled onto it as well, her jPhone resting on top of them. Her laptop was somewhere on the foot of the bed, powered down and waiting to be used. The remote of the TV inside the room was on the floor.

She grabs both items and sits up, blowing her nose and looking bleary-eyed at the windows. It was pitch black outside at four in the morning. Winter was coming.

Her throat was parched, she carefully reaches out to grab a glass of lukewarm orange juice from the table and takes a sip. She wrinkles her nose, the acidity more pronounced by its temperature, but she downs it slowly.

Meanwhile, somewhere else in the city, there's a man in his late twenties leaning up against the concrete footing surrounding a specific spiraled fountain, in front of a specific building. Lights illuminate the area, though to the outside observer, he's not visible. Blending in with the area, he might as well not be there as far as most eyes are concerned.

Peter doesn't want to be seen, but he wanted to be here anyway. Doesn't help he'd not been the least bit tired— he couldn't sleep through the whole night. Huddled into his coat, though, there's little reaction to the cold. Helps he picked the side of the fountain that blocks the wind from hitting him, but the concrete against his back, and under him certainly remains chilled. It should bother him more than it does.

There's a cellphone in his hand, held in front of him. He'd left a few pictures on it, pictures he's thumbing through quietly, before he stops on one in particular. Long moments pass, before he switches to the phonebook and hits send on a specific name.

It's not an hour of the day he usually calls. There's a specific reason, though.

Binary Sunset fills the room, right at the chorus when Luke looks at the two suns of Tatooine going down.

Elena looks up from where she's burying her face in Kleenex. She checks the time again, and furrows her brows. It's really late…or early. But she does reach out to pick it up, answering the call and leaning back on her pillows. "Peter," she croaks, her voice thick with sleep and the strain from coughing so much in the last few days. Still despite the miserable state she couldn't help but smile. "Couldn't sleep?" He didn't call the other night, but she never expected him to call her every day - even if he tried his damndest to, she never really expected it. He had a life as much as she did…well. Before.

"I'd be up tonight even if I could sleep through it," Peter responds in a whispered voice, one that carries over the phoneline, a lazy tone that could be taken as tired, even if he's actually not. It's her voice that concerns him more anyway. "You don't sound so good— are you getting worse, or did I just wake you up?" There's concern now in his voice, and the distinct sound of air toying against the phone— a hint of wind. Not so loud that it distorts. The sound of being outdoors, even if it's cold. No hint of trees, but there's that dull ring of distant machinery.

"I think I'm building up a resistance to the cough suppressant. I've been taking it for three weeks to suppress it," Elena answers truthfully. "So I can talk normally. But if you take something like that for so long, the body gets used to it, you know?" He would know. He's a nurse, and this probably wasn't the first time he's heard a patient go through something like this. She takes another sip of the lukewarm juice. "And I got up because I was coughing too much to keep sleeping, and my nose is stuffy." She falls silent, hearing the wind through the receiver. "Are you outside…what are you doing out so early…?" She tries to change the subject. He was already worried enough.

It's true that he's worried enough as it is, but even a change in subject doesn't derail Peter right away. He's quiet for a time, as if trying to think of something to help out with. Finally he says, "Know this sounds like a strange substitute, but— I'll be sending some dark chocolate your way. I'll put it in the kitchen." If she looks it up online, a 50g bar of dark chocolate gives an effective dose of theobromine, which is a proven cough suppresent not often found in actual cough medicine. Fickle patients call for some interesting attempts to medicate— and this would be one of the many he's learned.

But— she did ask a question, and he tilts his head upward to the clouds. Thankfully, it isn't raining right now. That could change, though. "Do you know what today is?"

"You're sweet," Elena murmurs, shifting a bit on the bed so she could sit up a bit more securely. "I love dark chocolate, it's my favorite." She had never…really told him that actually. After eight months of knowing one another, and dating towards two months, they were still trying to get to know each other after all. He already knew one of her favorite poets, that she listened to opera and classical, that she knew how to ballroom dance, her favorite colors… when it came to her, however, Peter had good instincts. "I can probably even melt it in some milk with a dash of real cream." It was getting colder, and hot chocolate sounds good at the moment. She balls up the kleenex in her hand, and tosses it on the wastebasket near her.

When he poses the question, she wracks her brain. Did she miss another anniversary? A significant moment? It was November - the only things she could remember about November was that it was headed onto final exams, Thanksgiving, and her mother's fourth death anniversary. "What day is today, Peter?" she asks.

"I can see if I can find some powders that have enough of it— then you can have dark hot chocolate, too," Peter says softly, absently, knowing it may take a bit of looking for more than regular bars of dark chocolate. If he finds one with more cocoa, the really dark chocolates, that'd be even better. If it helps— and she enjoys her medicine, it's enough for him for the moment.

No, not an anniversary for them. They've a few days left for that— but it is an anniversary. He's unaware of when her mother died, but… "A year ago— now— I almost blew up New York. The night Nathan got elected to Congress— before dawn. I went to fight Sylar in Kirby Plaza and nearly nuked Manhattan." There's still a hint of guilt in his voice, even if the explosion took place in an area where only one man took any of the damage.

"I know you're busy, you don't really have to go out of your way," Elena says softly. She knows he's trying as hard as he can to help out, but the fact that he's still taking care of her warms the heart. She leans back further into the pillows. "Thank you, though. It's helping, what little you could do. Even if you can't…." Even if he can't be there. But she's not so dependent on him that she can't function. The virus is doing plenty of that for the both of them. She frowns at the rows of pills and bottles on her bedside table.

God.

She hated this.

Though when he explains what today is, she sits up a little straighter. "…is that why you're outside?" she asks softly. "…where are you?" And what happened that day? She never really got the whole story. But she didn't have the heart to ask him. She preferred he told her these things on his own.

"It's not that out of my way. It's just a stop into a grocery store— and maybe a chocolate store come morning," Peter explains softly, trying not to make a big deal about it. Dark chocolate isn't difficult to find a convienece store, or a grocery store. High consentratiosn of cocoa, though, that'd be something for an actual chocolate store. "Good thing white chocolate isn't your favorite, though." There's almost no trace of what he wants her to be taking in white chocolate. It'd be a waste of time to bother.

"I'm in Kirby Plaza," he concludes, still looking up at the sky. "You know the building— it's where you and everyone else tried to rescue me all those months ago— but it's also where I nearly destroyed the world." Save the world is what Hiro said. New York, certainly— but he imagines the effects of a nuclear bomb in the middle of the city might have been similar in the end to the tornado lashing out in the future he went to.

"I just wanted to call someone." And that someone, apparently, was her. His voice is somber, whispered, "I'm glad I didn't wake you, at least. I just wish that this was all over, so I could be with you right now."

There's a small smile when Peter essentially tells her it's no problem. "I was never a white chocolate fan," Elena confesses, sticking to a more lighthearted topic for now. "Besides. It's not realy chocolate. It doesn't have any cocoa in it." Trust her to cling onto a little fact like that to discern the difference between real chocolate and fake chocolate. Sure, it melts like chocolate, looks like chocolate, treated like chocolate, but if it's got no cocoa in it, it's not chocolate. That's her story and she's sticking to it! "I…don't think we've actually talked about this before. You were too concentrated on getting me shiny things I happen to love," she teases him gently.

Though when he mentions Kirby Plaza, she sits up straighter, turning a little gray. "Peter you're not actually…" Oh god. Don't make him do anything rash. However when he further explains, she relaxes. "Oh thank God, I thought you were…nevermind," she says quickly. "I…I didn't know that. They moved you to where you…" Almost blew them all up. "…oh, Peter…" she says softly. Of course he'd remember today. With him almost killing everyone, and ended up almost killing just Nathan - which might as well be everyone to him.

"You can call me anytime," she tells him softly. "I…it's not like….I've learned to at least return your phone calls." There's a pause, and finally.. "You might…not be able to be with me but…"

Her fingers tighten a little bit on the blanket. "Remember….when…the day you told me about Simone? And those dreams with Mr. Deveaux…?" There's a bit of hesitation, before she continues. "You could…I mean they both died during that time. And Mr. Deveaux was the one who told you that it'd be Love that would save the world. I won't be able to be with you but…you could visit them. Let them know it worked."

And cocoa is exactly what she needs right now, so yes, white chocolate doesn't count. They've not talked about it before— and now that they have, Peter has commited to memory what chocolate she likes, which will probably come into play at a future date. But for now… he's sitting in the middle of Kirby Plaza, still up against the fountain, still invisible. "Don't worry, I'm outside," he says when she starts making sounds of worry and fear— he's not that crazy right now. There's also no need to go inside. "I was outside when I nearly blew up— near the fountain. The one that's shaped like a spiral…" Of course he was outside— it'd be difficult for Nathan to fly him out of the building.

The question about Simone causes him to sigh quietly, finally letting his eyes drop to look from the sky to the ground in front of him. "I don't know where she's buried— or if they even buried her at all." He knows his brother was intending to put in an anonymous tip, but he didn't look into how that went— he'd been far too distraught by what was happening. "I do know where Charles was laid to rest— I could go visit him. She might be nearby…" But he's not going to hold his breath on that.

"….would it…" Elena hesitates. "Peter I…you know when it comes to things like this I….I want you to be able to tell me without me asking." But what happened? is the question she doesn't say. When he starts telling the story however, she shifts, leaning against the headboard, finally, of the bed. "The red spiral? I remember…when Jack and all of us…when we got out of there, I saw it. We fled through the front door." There's another quiet pause. "….so….you started glowing and Nate flew you out of there?" That can't be all of it. She could tell. "I wish I could be there right now. It doesn't seem like…if you're remembering last year I wish I could….do more than just this." Hug him. Have her presence nearby to soothe him. Something than just sitting on her ass hacking her lungs out and depending on other people to take care of her. It wasn't right. That was her role.

She bites back the frustrated sensation welling up from the pit of her stomach. Instead… "If you know where he is, maybe….it's just a suggestion. Maybe it would help. There's only so many ways I can remind you that you could do this. Only so many words. But maybe if you went and remembered the first person who believed in your ability to save everyone with your heart and not your abilities…" She smiles ruefully. "Some selfish part of me wishes I was the first but in a way it's kind of fitting coming from someone older and wiser."

The problem with answering things that aren't asked— is that sometimes Peter doesn't understand what they're trying to ask without asking. Case in point. He might have recognized the worry, but he's not sure how to answer that beyond how he already has. The events of Kirby Plaza hadn't been the best topic he could come up with. However, she gives a cue in the form of his remembering last year.

"Niki was there— did I ever mention that? And her husband and her son— And Molly Walker. Mohinder— Officer Parkman— Though I guess he's a Detective now. Mr. Bennet. Sylar— Hiro and Claire— then Nathan. All of them were there. Niki saved me from Sylar— he was hitting me with a parking meter and she took it from him and hit him with it instead…" It's not describing all of it, but he does start to stand up from his seat finally, backside too cold to continue to sit there.

"I couldn't save his daughter, though."

"…it sounds like half the city as we know it was there," Elena says, blinking a bit. She didn't know Niki's entire brood had been there. Nor did she have any idea that Molly had been there, as Claire and her father, Sylar, Nathan…in fact the only person she hasn't met out of the bunch that Peter had mentioned was Detective Parkman, and even he sounded familiar, though she had absolutely no idea how. She keeps listening quietly. Though the visual of Niki coming out of nowhere and just beating Sylar to paste with a parking meter causes her to crack a grim smile on her face. "She gets a gold star for that one," comes the quip, before she covers her mouth again as she coughs furiously. Withdrawing her palm, the flecks of blood are evident - sadly something she's used to now. The lining of the throat gives way with that much coughing.

She takes a deep breath. Though when he dwells on Simone, she hesitates. It was the societal stigma the Ex Factor usually put on any subsequent boyfriends or girlfriends in one's life. Normally the cardinal rule is not talk about it. But to pretend Simone never existed, especially the way she died, would be rejecting a part of Peter….and she wasn't willing to do that either. She knew how he got as far as rejection was concerned. Hell he had been a mess when she wouldn't take his phone calls and that was before her romance with him happened.

"I know," she tells him softly. "But you can…" She closes her eyes. "I only bring this up because…"

There's a long bout of silence.

"Peter, Mama was killed in November," she continues. "I don't know…if I'll even be well enough to come visit her this month. But that's what I do. I tell her what's been happening in my life. What's up with the family. I apologize to her for doing things she might not approve of…" And she's done plenty of that this year, from committing felonies to premarital sex. "It's…for me it's not just remembering what I've lost, but also a way to exorcise my demons. Let go of the things I couldn't…..tell anyone else a little bit."

Many people had been there— Peter doesn't even know why half of them happened to be there when they were— the only one he'd arrived with had been Mr. Bennet, with the promise to kill him if anything went wrong. Being a good shot didn't matter in the long run, not when he got slammed against a building. And calling Simone and ex might be giving their relationship too much credit. He'd loved her from the moment he first saw her— having never mentioned that while he dreamed of his mother and Charles talking about the bomb, he also saw himself fall in love with her all over again. A love that kept a professional distance, up until he quit his job—

And they spent one night together. No dates, nothing else— just one night. Where in his heart got broken a little in the morning.

But she changes the subject rather exquisitely. "I didn't know that— what day did she die?" he asks, genuinely sounding concerned. If he knows the date, he can work towards getting her better by the deadline— so she can talk to her mother. He's moving away from the fountain now, slow steps carrying him towards the street— by the parkingmeter that got replaced sometime in the last year.

….well, she used the example to illustrate how visiting Charles's grave could help with what he feels of the one year anniversary since trying to save the world from last year. That was how Elena told her stories, delving in to something personal to give it life and share her point of view through that. It had been a miscalculation on her part, because now Peter's asking for details. She falls silent for a while. It was as if she wasn't going to answer - talking about that part of her life had always been hard, even when she told him almost everything…and was encouraged to tell more through the course of their friendship. But her mother, and that entire mess with Carter..

She could still remember it. Running ahead while her father took out groceries from the trunk of their car, while her younger brothers and sister piled out of it, little things in plastic bags to get ready for Thanksgiving. She remembered opening the door and bounding to the living room with a box of Almond Roca in hand because they had been her mother's favorite, only to…

"….the…fifteenth," she says slowly. "Of November."

Blood drops on the TV screen.

"It….I'm just saying," she says, trying to steer the topic back to its earlier course. "…that you might find a bit of comfort doing that," she tells him softly. "It does with me. I….wish I could do more, Peter. But now you're stuck trying to take care of me and— " And it's frustrating and she hated being a burden and it was driving her crazy.

Fifteenth of November. That's not a lot of time at all— but Peter can probably do something for her to make the illusion work— allow her to visit the grave. He has a few days to think of a way to do it— to give her that much. Of course he doesn't know how she found her mother, or even how she died— but he does seem to understand her pain.

It's what she says as he walks that makes him frown, looking at the ground in front of him, watching his feet move from stone to stone until he reaches a sidewalk. "You're doing more than you know, Elena— you answered the phone, for one." As if that were something truly special. To him it probably is. "And you're right— visiting Charles' grave is something I should have done months ago— I've had the chance, and no excuse not to— well— except when I was in the future or sick." He could have visited in the future.

There's one thing that helps him plan ways to get her to her mother's grave… he knows where it is. When he probably shouldn't.

She could practically read his mind. Elena doesn't have her father's telepathy, but she knows Peter very well. "You don't have to worry about it, baby," she tells him softly. First time she's ever called him an endearment or something other than Peter, though she did call him 'hero' once. "She'll understand. Besides, it's not like I'm going to be here forever, right? I'll just be a little late, is all." Her fingers grip a little bit tighter on her jPhone, smiling a little bit from where she is. That part of her life wouldn't be something she would tell anyone freely, but she's told more about her experience in that to Peter than anyone else.

"Peter we…I promised you I wouldn't screen you ever again." She chuckles softly. "I learned my lesson the last time, believe me. I just….it's not like I don't appreciate the care, it's just…I promised you I was going to look after you. When you first got back…"

There is a pause, something clicking.

"Peter I…not to segue too far but speaking of you being around… I called Kitty. I told her to keep her eyes peeled, like what I said with Ian, and if she sees anything remotely weird to tell you about it. But Peter, she said something… she made a comment and I couldn't help but think… this guy. The guy who died, the one Dr. Aldric mentioned to us. He said he worked for a plant in the meat packing district. Do you think…if we found out where that was, if we knew what this plant was manufacturing, maybe we'd get an idea as to how this spread."

Despite her assurances, Peter probably isn't changing his plans. He wants her to be able to talk to her mother, but it's better if he surprises her with it, so he just makes a soft amused sound at being called 'baby' and keeps moving. "I know you promised— and I didn't expect you to. But you might have been asleep, and— really— it's enough that you're here when I call. I don't need much more right now." That's as much as he can ask of her right now. To be there when he needs someone to speak to.

The mention of Kitty causes him to grow serious again, listening. But the virus spread was supposed to be his fault. That's what his mother said in the dream. That's where it will end up being, but…

"I was planning to call Kitty up and get her involved in some things— I'm going to investigate the man, talk to his widow, and try to find out what he might have done that would connect us. I wanted to bring her along, cause she might pick up on things I don't." He's not sure if Elena knows of her ability, so he doesn't mention what he means by that. "We can find out what plant he worked in when we do this."

"I know….but…" But nothing. Elena lets it go, shaking her head and smiling faintly. "Never thought our roles could be switched so soon," she teases him softly, though she bites back a chuckle at the amused sound he makes. "Shut up, it just came out," she tells him, though he can probably hear her biting back a grin at the mock-chastisement. She takes another sip of that lukewarm orange juice, making a displeased noise when she does it, but she focuses on the conversation at hand now. It was important - the other stuff was too, but…

"I knew she had an ability," she tells Peter. "But I don't really know what it was. I did…I do remember her telling Ian that she saw him in…some sort of dream, or something. It was a while ago, I don't remember what she said clearly. What can she do?" she asks. It sounds helpful, but whatever she could do, she relaxes a little bit when she hears that Peter intends to bring backup. "Take Ian too," she tells him softly. "He knows about it, and he wants to help. And….if things get rough, he could be useful."

There is a pause, and then? She can't help but laugh softly. "God. I'm suggesting a Sith Lord help Skywalker. I'm sure somewhere a Star Wars fan is rolling over his grave."

"I thought it was cute," Peter says, in response to her self-chastisement there, since he'd not really been mocking her, he just found it humorous. It is sweet. "I call you sunshine, you know." Baby might have more insulting conotations, but he doesn't mind it. It's cute, just like he said. He's still moving, towards a local convience store— to send her bars of dark chocolate like he promised, but he listens to what she says, the second suggestion of someone to bring alone. "The static mutant, right?"

He remembers Ian fairly well, "You call him a Sith Lord? That's… not the most flattering nickname— but Skywalker could be both a Jedi and a Sith Lord, remember?" It's Star Wars. It's fun.

"You'll have to give me his phone number— text it to me and I'll contact him too. Couldn't hurt to have a third pair of eyes."

Well she knows that, but she can't help but tease them both about it. Elena couldn't help but chuckle softly. "I know," she tells him softly. "And you do. More often these days actually, even though I don't really look like anything shiny at the moment." She looked terrible, but she wasn't going to get into any more detail than that. She had her pride. Though at the 'static mutant' reference, she laughs softly. "Yeah, that's right. He was my lab partner…now that I'm out of commission, he has to get a new one. God, I feel so guilty thinking about it, especially since he just wants to help…he visited me the other day. He's really worried. I think I can try and kill two birds with one stone shifting things so you two can team up."

She can't help but grin further. "Well, no…I've yet to grab a new nickname for him. He started calling me Angel for some reason, even if I look like anything but." These days anyway. "And that's true. You know your Star Wars well. I think I did good giving you the code name."

She nods. "I'll text you his number when I get off the phone with you. He knows to be careful."

"It's not your fault. It just happened," Peter says, trying to reassure her. Luckily 24 hour convience stores are pretty quick to find, even in this part of town. He walks into one. She'll hear a buzzer, and a change in the atmosphere. He goes to the candy aisle and starts looking for the biggest bars of dark chocolate he can find. And ends up just grabbing the whole box. She might need them for a while, after all.

"Angel? That— I think it suits you, honestly. Though if he calls you that, I might start getting jealous." There's a hint of a joke there— but it could be genuine at the same time. Skywalker does fit him. Both versions, honestly. The quickest way to lose himself is for someone to threaten his family, which is what happened to the first one.

"Actually Angel's what they called you— where I went a few months ago." The future. He's being subtle because… he just dropped the batch of chocolates in front of the man at the counter. Who starts to count them. And make comments like 'Sugar craving?'

"Girlfriend," is his response, nice enough to cover the reciever, though she can still make out the muffle. "They called you that there— so more people than him thought it was appropriate."

"I know." Elena can't help but look at the phone a little bit, surprised. 'It just happened.' As opposed to 'it was my fault.' The change was so…it stood out so starkly to her that she couldn't help but feel amazed. Peter did react better when he was being proactive, which was odd considering how reactive he usually is. But with his brother and his girlfriend down for the count… perhaps the sense of purpose was empowering him in some way. Who knew Peter Petrelli was a pressure player, after all? A small smile flits on her mouth. "Where are you now?" She can't help but ask.

She chuckles. "Nothing to be jealous about," she reassures him. "Ian knows I have a boyfriend…he mentioned you actually. He said to tell you to take better care of me. I told him you take care of me just fine." There is a pause. "Also don't tell anyone but Monica has a crush on him." Yes, Niki's cousin-in-law, Monica. "To do anything to encourage him would break Girl Code on top of everything else, like me falling ridiculously in love with this guy I randomly met in a coffeeshop."

She blinks a little bit when he mentions the future. "…they called me that? Really?" she wonders out loud. "I…but I thought I…you know. Was mean?" The mention that he was buying things for his girlfriend causes her to grin.

"I'm in a convience store— I promised you dark chocolate, didn't I?" Peter responds, looking at the man ringing them up at four in the flipping morning. He might even be muttering under his breath about how he's pussy whipped, or something. But nevermind that. "Really? Well I fell ridiculously in love with this young barrista at Starbucks." Against all odds. And the guying counting the bars of chocolate? He's rolling his eyes. Definitely pussy whipped.

"Yeah, they called you that." There's a pause, as he thinks about things. "I wouldn't say mean exactly. Just harder— you…" He trails off, turns away from the man now scanning a barcode and punching in the amount of chocolates and continues, "It was more that there was so much that needed doing. Business. Didn't have time for anything that held things back." Being vague is difficult.

The amount appears on the screen and he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a wallet, lays it down, and finds a credit card with one hand and hands that over.

"Really? What a coincidence. Anyone I know?" Elena teases, and she can't help but grin, leaning back. Sick with the mutant death flu, hacking her lungs out, and looking like death warmed over, and Peter still manages to flirt with her while getting her dark chocolates. Best boyfriend ever. The salesman rolling his eyes at Peter can shove it for all she cares (though granted she doesn't really know he was rolling his eyes at his customer). Though when he explains the future again, she listens… "I suppose I would be the same way if things did get that difficult. I just…it's kind of scary, you know? Someone calling me that here, while in the Future they were calling me the same thing. If there are coincidences left in this world, Peter, as far as we're concerned, I hope that's one of them."

She falls quiet for a moment, closing her eyes. She pushes those thoughts away, and concentrate on the fact that she'll be getting a few bars of dark chocolate later, from someone who desperately wants to make sure she's okay. It was odd, feeling the warm fuzzy emotion of being loved and cared for like this, by someone other than her father. But it was pleasant.

"You….take such good care of me, even when you're not here," she tells him softly.

"You know who," Peter says in a voice that accepts her silliness, while rejecting her mock ignorance. With the chocolate bought, paid for, and put into a bag, he takes up the bag, the reciept, and puts up his credit card while she continues to talk. He's listening carefully, but by the time she's done he has everything ready and starts out the door with his bag of chocolate. "There's a lot of coincidences, Elena. It's not anything that makes the future happen. It fits you— Jack was called Shephard… and Gene was called Shaft. And Eric had this Swedish or German name or something— but you guys called him Scrooge." It seems to be an amused sound to his voice.

He moves down a short distance and sits down on a bench, as if waiting for a bus. The bench happens to be empty right now. "And Cass was Princess Leia, cause she was a leader of the resistance."

That seems to have amused him more than some of the other nicknames. Because… that made her his twin. "I don't think I got a nickname…" He's trying to think on it, but then bars of chocolate start moving from one place to another. "You have chocolate down on the kitchen counter— next to the coffeemaker."

"I know. I can't help but be a little paranoid these days," Elena says, looking at the clock next to her, resting on the bedside table and ticking away. "Being in a box, even a box as big as your family's mansion, can drive even the most optimistic person a little crazy. It's not like…it's been all bad news. Nate did win the election, and you've got a plan of attack. All those things are worth something. And you have an old friend to visit." Charles. "I can't help but be a little jealous of you, having been set free from this. At the same time, I'm rather glad you are. Better you than me, you can do so much more than I could."

She hears him move away, and she cracks up. "They called Gene Shaft? I mean… we called Gene Shaft? Why? He's the whitest white boy who ever whited on the planet."

She's still chuckling at the receiver, and she laughs more when Cass is called Princess Leia. "Wouldn't that make the two of you brother and sister?" she teases. "…and…I'm sure you've accumulated enough nicknames in your life. Like Piglet and Skywalker and whatever else…though it won't be so farfetched to give you a nickname that describes your powers, like…I don't know. Spongebob. Or Shamwow."

"I so have a friend to visit," Peter admits, sending a few more bars of chocolate before he's emptied the bag enough to casually carry it. "I wish all of you were set free from this." Her and Nathan especially, but Evelyn too. Though— sadly— the young girl isn't quite as high on the priorites as his brother and girlfriend. "To be honest— it took me a while to figure out who you were talking about with Gene. You all had crazy nicknames— and passwords." Though their password was much easier to remember than the Resistance ones.

"Practically siblings, yeah," he says with a smile. They can even wear the same clothes! More or less. He's got more muscle mass and no boobs, but they're basically the same size.

It's the nicknames. He gives a hint of a laugh. "Alyssa called me Spongebob once or twice, I think— and— I have no idea what a Shamwow is, but I'm pretty sure that's what Micah just called me the other day…"

"I know, but we can hold the fort," Elena says softly. "Me and Nate. Though I think the cabin fever is getting to us…" She can't help but laugh softly. "I actually hugged him when we both found out he won the other day. Never thought I'd be able to do that really. I'm not exactly family status." Nathan seemed like the type of person who only suffered that with family. But she can't help but smile. "Sounds like us," she tells him. "Bet they were all references to something too. With the passwords and stuff, and the name of the group." The Boondock Saints. It must be Jaden's influence.

Though she couldn't help but smile about him and Cass. "Almost fitting the two of you are working together on this. Before long you guys will be reading each other's minds," she teases quietly. "You two already fit in the same size of clothes…mostly. You're bulkier than Cass is, and heavier." Though she's not sure how true that is now. He lost weight since.

"You don't know what a Shamwow is..?" she tells him with a laugh. "I'm going to have to link you to the informercial. I'm pretty sure I can find it on Youtube. Just…trust me. It fits more than you think." She exhales softly. "….I should go back to sleep," she tells him quietly. "It's…early and my head feels a little heavy. But…go see Mr. Deveaux. I'm sure…it might help."

There's a pause. "…I love you, Peter," she tells him quietly. "I…no matter what happens. You know that, right?"

"I know the both of you will," Peter says, moving down the street to find the quickest way to the cemetary that he knows Charles was buried at. The quickest way without teleporting or flying, at least. They probably were all references, and he can't help but smile at the phone when she talks about his brother, and her Saints as well. "That's funny, Cass read my mind the other day when I got healed— she knew that I was ready to go over to the mansion and try healing you, even as the woman who healed me passed out on the floor." And yes, they can wear about the same clothes— because his boss is taller than he is.

"Youtube, huh? Okay, I'll give it a look, if two people are acting as if it fits me." He takes in a slow breath. "I love you, too, Elena… and the only thing that's going to happen is you'll be able to tell me that for a very long time." Because he can't lose her… or his brother either. Losing both would devestate him beyond reason— he's not sure who he would be without them.

"I know this sounds weird— but go downstairs and get a bar of chocolate and eat it before you go to bed. It might make you a little hyper, but it should help the cough. I wasn't kidding when I prescribed it."

"Well…that's what you WOULD do," Elena says with a light, if not hoarse laugh. "You would come running here to try it no matter what the consequences would be to yourself. But you know I wouldn't want that. And neither would Nate. He even told me in no uncertain terms earlier that you can't coma yourself all the time trying to save us all." She pauses for a moment. "….your brother's a really good guy, Peter. I know…I wasn't exactly generous of my opinion of him before. I can admit at the very least that I misjudged him." She was Heidi's friend before Nate's, after all.

She can't help but grin. "You might laugh, or be amazed. I think I should get you a roll for Christmas," she tells him. But at the last… she couldn't help but smile. "A long time, huh?" she says, a touch wistfully. Would she even make it through her twenties? She could only hope. "I'll hold you to that, Mr. Petrelli." She presses an exagerrated kiss on the receiver, not out of a desire to make a joke out of it - but so he could hear it and he could only do so over the phone if she did it that way.

The request…she pauses. She was so weak she didn't know if she could even make it out of bed. "I will. And I'll think of you," she teases. She'll make it there without falling, damn it. She had more pride than to keel over, she was embarrassed enough the first time it happened. "Try and get some sleep, okay? Goodnight. Stay safe."

"Well, as long as you want to— I don't know— you may change your mind and decide you'd rather run back to Spain and marry a cabana boy or something," Peter says, joking even as he says it. It's the kiss that makes him laugh, just a hint of one, really, and a moment later she'll hear a lighter verson of that from his side. "Don't worry about me— I got a few hours sleep earlier tonight," he explains, hoping she understands just how much that means for him right now.

It's all the sleep he needs, even with using abilities to do things. Because he has an ability— from a woman who claimed she hadn't slept for years until someone put her to sleep.

"Good night. I hope to be able to see you again soon." There's a reluctant pause, before he finally hangs up.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License