2007-04-23: Panic Calls And Visitations


Cass_icon.gif Jane_icon.gif Peter_icon.gif

Summary: Peter calls Cass, Jane calls Peter, Jane comes to visit Peter. All in the aftermath of Elle being brain wiped.

Date It Happened: April 23rd, 2007

Panic Calls and Visitations

On the Phone

PHONE: You dial the number 283-2277. It begins to ring.

PHONE: The other end answers, "Hello?"

PHONE: Peter sounds very shaken, voice tense, partially broken between words, as if he's trying to gulp for air. A tell tale sniff or two reveals that he might very well be emotionally overought, "Cass— I need— I don't even— is there a way— a way to fix— the— to undo— the mind wipes? Please, tell me there's a way…"

PHONE: Cass says, "Wait, what? Peter, I don't understand. Mind wipes?" There's a pause and her tone is certainly worried. "Who got mind wiped? Are you okay? What happened?"

PHONE: Peter takes in a shaky breath. "No… no I'm not okay. I thought she was just busy when— when she didn't come home tonight— but I tried to call her and she doesn't even remember me… none of it." There's some incoherency in his voice, before he takes another breath, "Elle… they took her memory. She doesn't remember me. She was talking about leaving— about— God, she must have told them…"

PHONE: Cass takes a breath of her own as she listens to Peter. She's heard some of this mind wiping, but she's not positive of it. "Elle? They took Elle's memories?" The Company girlfriend. She remembers that much. "Oh God, I'm sorry, Peter. We'll figure something out" There's a much longer pause after his last sentence. "Wait. She told them /what/ exactly?"

PHONE: Peter sounds almost drained now, still giving the occassional sniff, or shaky word. "That— that she was thinking of leaving. Told me two nights ago. Told me she was thinking of leaving them… If her father found out he must have— he must have had her wiped, made her forget me. She— she'd only leave because of me. God, this is my fault. If I'd just— just signed that— guess his daughter was worth more to him than any contract with me." The last bit has a different kind of tension, near bitterness.

PHONE: Cass says, "Peter, it's not your fault. You've got to stop blaming yourself for things you have no control over." She's noticed that about the Petrelli boy in their short time for together. "It was her choice. Just because you were a part of it doesn't make it your fault." She sighs. "Father's are kind of crazy like that. Look, we'll think of something. There's got to be a way to fix this."

PHONE: Peter lets out a shaky breath, another one, but still sounds tense, and almost bitter, when he speaks, "We'll fix it. I can't— I can't leave her in a place like that— with people like that." By the time he gets to this point, his voice breaks off again. Another slow breath. "I'll try to think of something. Know a few people I can talk to." Doesn't sound as if he's accepted the blame lifted from his shoulders, though. "..Sorry that I bothered you. I know— you have enough on your mind as it is."

PHONE: Cass takes a steadying breath, as if trying to will calm through the phone and into Peter. "I know. We won't. I'll start thinking on this end, too. Don't worry about it. Seriously. This certainly is not the first time I've had the sinking feeling I was doomed. Back in high school my dad caught me trying to sneak back into the house smelling like beer and cigarettes. That worried me more." Her tone is a false sort of light, trying to take the man's mind off of his situation. Sighing, there's a long pause on her end. It sounds like she's walked and then stopped. "I…uh, I think I've got to go. Someone just almost knocked himself out with a lightsaber." Another pause, this time serious sounding. "Just have faith. It'll all work out."

PHONE: Peter sounds a little surprised. "…All right? I'll.. I'll talk to you later. Be safe."

PHONE: You end your current call.

PHONE: Your phone begins to ring. The Caller ID says 283-2260.

PHONE: You answer your phone, "Peter Petrelli."

PHONE: Jane sounds both angry and scared. "Pete. It's Jane. Where are you, right now? It might not be safe for me to stay at home for a while."

PHONE: Peter sounds emotionally winded and quite drained, and almost as if he's been crying, from the tension in his voice, and the way he's breathing, "You tried to call Elle, didn't you?"

PHONE: Jane answers simply and briskly. "I did. And there's a lot of broken glass here now."

PHONE: Peter sighs, "You were the next person I was going to call." From the sound, he's almost too drained to keep calling people. "I'm sorry— I should have called you first. I knew the two of you were friendly… I'm at my place. I only found out a little while ago…"

PHONE: Jane says, "Where's your place? I've been with her, and she's been violated. Not about to stick around and be alone if they come for me."

PHONE: Peter sighs softly, "Eastern Centennial Apartments, Lower East Side." From the sound of things, it doesn't seem as if he /wants/ company, but… "Apartment 1407." And then he gives the street address too.

PHONE: Jane states "I'll be there soon, Pete. Keep your head up. Now… make contact with Mr. Bishop. Either he ordered this, or he doesn't have control over that organization, some person or persons won't accept us."

PHONE: Peter sounds so very drained. "Doesn't matter anymore. Deal's off. Whether he had anything to do with it or not. I'll get her back— I'll get her memories back… and if they ever touch her again…" Now the drained voice has a new tone to it. A cold, dangerous sound. Whispered, and very different from how he'd normally sound.
PHONE: Jane hasn't hit the point of being drained yet. She's angry. Jane simply says "Right there with you, Pete. See you soon." And she hangs up.

PHONE: You end your current call.

Peter Petrelli's Apartment

Some time after causing a pile of broken glass and calling Pete, Jane arrives at his apartment. She's got a bag in one hand with some clothes and supplies, her favorite guitar, and the backpack. Anger in her heart, she still needs to vent, so the instrument had to come along. Her hand lifts and knocks three times on the door, not at all quietly.

There's a long pause before Peter opens the door, as if he's checking and double checking the spy hole. She'll hear a good series of locks undoing, before it opens. The young man looks like a wreck, face pale, eyes red around the edges, and with more than a little moisture on his cheeks, forming lines. "Not much room here, and don't mind the puppy. I don't have any dog whistles," he adds, waiting until she's inside before he closes the door behind her and locks it, every lock, including the security chain. Puppy? There's one sitting on one of the seats in the living room, looking sad, ears drooping, as if she's drawing on the upset of her owner. Very likely she is.

"Thanks, Pete," Jane replies, coming through the door and looking him over. Without another word, she sets down her gear and offers her shoulder to lean upon, take comfort and support. It's not a sexually laden gesture, she doesn't view him in that way, and she wouldn't do that to Elle if she did. "It's good enough. I won't be alone to kick, scratch, claw, and fight if someone comes for me." The anger is still present, her face is stern and the eyes intense. This is a woman who, although she can't remember it, insisted on going with Team A not just because it was helping Nate get his brother, but also because Clint was believed held there.

Right now, it would seem, Peter's not really wanting physical comfort and support. The offer is noticed, but he pulls away, even if he knows it's just friendly. "You're not alone. But I don't think they're coming for all of us," he says, turning around and walking towards the living room, not even reaching down to pet his whining puppy on the top of the head. She's so very unhappy, by the way her ears sit, and the lowering of her head. This would be the second day in a row that she's been upset by things not related to her, and beyond her comprehension. "I /want/ to be alone… but— she must have told someone she was thinking of leaving the Company. They must have panicked. But they didn't come after me, or you— or Nathan, I hope. Maybe they wanted to cut their loses," he says, a hint of bitterness.

"She told me things," the brunette replies, as she starts to deflate a bit herself. Jane sinks onto the floor and leans her back against something, with eyes closing. "And with the consequences of this, the scratched deal, I doubt they'll take chances I know anything. I'd like to meet her father and know the truth, if he ordered it or simply has renegades. Trust is shattered, like my television set screen, and some other things." She pauses to look him over again, running the words he spoke over in her head, and somberly states "If you think I'm not in danger, though, I'll go find a hotel and leave you privacy."

"You can stay," Peter says, still sounding too drained to really say no. "You're right. We know things. The deal's blown… for all I know they'll show up and erase her from my memory next." Reaching up, he rubs at his face, signs of tears shining in his eyes as he starts to move back towards the bedroom. Only the one bed. Only glass doors seperating the bedroom from the rest of the apartment. And things in there that belong to Elle. A blouse and a jacket are even laid out on the bed, as if he took them out to touch them, feel them, hold them. "Not much room on the couch…" It's only a double. "But you can have it. I'll keep the puppy in the bedroom with me."

"Thanks, Pete," is her terse reply. In silence, Jane runs things through her mind, trying to make sense of it all. Why mindrape Elle? She was thinking to leave the Company? But she offered her a job with the main outfit, or at least suggested it. They'd connected, bonded. Doctor Forrest isn't one to abandon friends. And she won't abandon this one. Even now, she's hoping Elle thinks over the question she asked about a specific date and begins to think. She's forgotten, so there has to be a hole there she won't be able to explain away. And her own experiences are recalled, believing herself an addict, and how she struggled to wrap her head around things she was told by others, they didn't seem real, and still sometimes don't, but they make sense…

Stepping back in, Peter grabs the poor puppy, and brings her over to the bed. It'd been made since they last slept in it together, though he can still almost feel her there. The puppy doesn't move once settled down, merely shifting and looking around, confused on what is wrong, unsure, tail definitely not wagging. "I'm going to get her back," he says softly, picking up and folding the blouse carefully. "Somehow. Maybe it will help return the holes in your memory too, but— I have to get her back. I love her. And she loved me…" With the blouse folded, he takes it over to the dresser he'd partly cleaned out for her clothes, and puts it down, then returns the jacket to a hanger. "There's food and drinks in the fridge, cookies in the cookie jar, and the bathroom is over here." It's in his bedroom, so she'll have to open the glass doors and sneak through, if she needs to use it.

"The seeds are planted, Pete," Jane quietly offers. "She talked to you, and to me. Do you remember what I was like, then?" Her head tilts back, the eyes still closed, as she runs a hand through her hair. "I asked her to think about a specific date, the 22nd, and what she did that morning. There'll be a gap there, one she can't explain, unless some cover was crafted to explain them, like was done with me. And it'll start her wondering. I hope."

"We were together for over a month, even if she was gone two weeks…" Peter explains softly. "Someone can't just— forget all of that. There'll be so many holes… so much missing." And that's just the stuff that involves him. Walking back through the apartment, he steps into the kitchen, picking up the food and water bowl for the puppy, and busying himself with washing them out as he thinks. "If they can't be fixed… I'll just have to… make her fall in love with me all over again. Though now she thinks I'm some kind of creepy stalker… Still would, even if I tell her I know the way she laughs when she wins a game… the way she growls when she fails…" And much more intimate things he wouldn't dare mention. Like all her freckles. Filling up the water bowl, he also scoops a feedings worth of food into the other one, and walks back towards the bedroom. If he's going to keep the puppy there, she'll need some food.

Thinking and thinking, feeling the need to do something with her hands, Jane goes for the guitar case and opens it. The Fender Strat comes out. She doesn't plug in, wanting to keep volume down, but her fingers start to move on the instrument. Jane Forrest coping strategy, tried and true. "I hope, when the questions come, she'll look to us for answers and not tell anyone she's asking. Plant the seed, the tree grows on its own." After a few beats of pause, she remarks softly "I lost it, Pete, when she hung up on me and I knew what happened. My tv is toast, and the window cracked. It hit so hard, hearing this done to a friend, and takes me back to March 11th."

"I know. I'm sorry," Peter says, setting the bowls down on the floor for the puppy, in a place that won't be between Jane and the bathroom, since the last thing he'd want to do is have her step in it. With nothing menial left to do, though, he just sits down on the edge of his bed and leans forward, arms on his knees. It helps that she's playing, at least. Gives something to pay attention to. "Guess that means I shouldn't go over there and try and threaten her father?" he asks softly, looking towards his hands. It sounds like he's very much considering trying to strangle the man. Or maybe electricute him.

"We need to see him in any case, Pete," Jane offers quietly, "and know where we stand in his eyes. Trust is blown, if he didn't order this I'd need to see extensive proof he's done housecleaning to get control of things." Candice doesn't even come to mind as a possibility, she perceives them as close friends and her doing such a thing is a totally out there concept. Friends don't do things like this to each other. Silence settles over her as she continues to work strings and frets, she eventually plugs in since Pete's listening and keeps the volume low. Bluesy riffs are what's mostly emerging.

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