2007-08-25: DF: Poltergeists


DFJessica_icon.gif DFNiki_icon.gif DFPeter_icon.gif DFDL_icon.gif

Summary: When Peter sneakily follows Jessica up to the Syndicate's headquarters, ghosts from the past come haunting in the future. Will Peter fight to save the memory of Niki? Will D.L.? Who's in the right and who's in the wrong? More importantly, will anyone get out alive?!

Dark Future Date: August 25th, 2009


Upper Level, The Syndicate

There's an elevator. It's guarded; they all are. Jessica, as it turns out, has a swipecard in the pocket of the silky robe she threw on. It bypasses the security, and the manpower outside the doors simply step aside to let her through. It's Peter's lucky day, it would seem (or not, depending on one's perspective), as Costa intercepts Jessica once more to exchange a few more words before she steps inside and the doors slide shut. Destination: up to one of the highest levels. Alone in the elevator (so she thinks), she takes a cell phone from her other pocket and makes a call. No answer, it would seem. She leaves a message. "Keep watching. It's been too quiet. He's up to something. I want to know where he is every time you can freakin' find him with your little trick, understand?" Pause. "Or I'll kill the chef and you're outta supper. Just get on it."

A lucky unlucky day. Peter slips through as quietly as he can manage and presses himself up against the wall of the elevator and waits for her to step inside. There's no way that this ability will totally block out any and all noise he can make, but he still tries to breathe quietly. Holding his breath would probably just make him mess up, so he doesn't even bother. Up. That's actually better for him. As long as the building has windows, and he's pretty sure it did, he can escape in some manner. Maybe he can learn something. All he can do is breathe quietly and listen.

Done. Snapping the phone shut fluidly, Jessica waits out the remainder of the ride. There's a moment, three floors from her destination, wherein she tenses, her senses sharpened. She turns her head along her shoulder; her gaze almost reaches her invisible spy, suddenly suspicious, but she seems to second guess herself. The elevator comes to a halt and the doors slide open soundlessly. She steps out into a long corridor, a wholly different world from the ground level. Offices upon offices. The corridor is uninhabited — or was, until now. Jessica's decisive heelstrikes monopolize the floor as she heads down it.

Gleaming black walls. Dark marble floors. Ambient light. Another world, one that has the distinct feeling of… an office building. And yet this is no regular office building, that much is also decidedly obvious. The air itself is uneasy. None of the office doors have have name placquards.

There's a mild urgency when the doors open. Peter has to wait til she's through before he can step out, but he can't wait too long or they'll close. As is, he needs to sidestep out quickly to get into the hall. Being able to step through doors would certainly be helpful right now. Looking down the empty hallway, he spares only a moment before checking for windows. Just in case. Then his eyes follow her. There's no move to follow her with his own footsteps until she's reasonable distance away. Please don't squeak, shoes. With the echo in the hallway, he has to walk slowly. It's also fortunate he doesn't wear heels.

*Beep-beep.* Another swipe of the all-powerful card grants Jessica access to one of the nondescript office doors to the right. A lock audibly disengages, louder than it ought to be because everything else is so quiet. There's zero hint of the noise from S*Y*N way up here. Her hand is on the handle, ready to open the door.

She pauses.

Very, very slowly, she looks down the corridor the way she came with slit eyes, already challenging her would-be stalker. Jessica looks straight at Peter — but through him, past him. She glances the other way, back again, and makes a slow rove around with her gaze. The floor, the ceiling, the walls themselves, wary. She's accustomed to the feeling of being watched and followed by unseen bodies and she does not appreciate it. Frozen in place, tensed for fight or flight (90% fight), Jessica's hand tightens on the handle. "… D.L.?"

There might be a slight noise as Peter stops midstep. He'd already been about to give up hope when she pulled out the card. Whenever she enters that room, he'll lose her. He knows he will. Because he won't be able to get through, and she won't hold it open for him. He's too far behind her as it is. He can't help but mentally curse his 'courage'. If that's what this had been. Recklessness is closer. It's her glancing around that stopped him, though, and what holds him still. Now he's not quite breathing.

D.L.? No, that wouldn't be his name. But the use of the name surprises him quite a bit. That's the name of her husband, isn't it? There's a long moment of silence. Then he takes a deep breath and the invisibility slides away, starting with his legs and all the way up to his head. "That's— Niki's husband's name, isn't it?"

Jessica rolls with the punches. Okay, not D.L. Invisible, spying Peter. That she can handle. For a few seconds, her flaring anger catches and stays frozen on her face. Then, instead of answering Peter, she shakes her head and clucks her tongue, the wicked grin she wears so well twisting her lips. "Tsk tsk tsk. Trespassers will be prosecuted." Must've forgotten to put up a sign. High-heels start to advance on Peter.

There's some backpedaling. Peter actually raises a hand in her direction as if that would stop her. Honestly, it could. But there's no feeling that shows he's using such an ability just yet. In fact, it actually gives her less distance to travel before she can get ahold of part of him. "Wait, I'm not— I can leave. I didn't see anything and…" Like that will make any difference to this woman? She's already killed him once. But there's one thing that he has to ask. "Are you seeing his ghost?" He's dead. Maybe she's so far gone that she's seeing ghosts now? It could happen…

"You think I'm crazy?" Don't answer that, Peter. It's bad for your health. "What, you think I'm seein' dead people?" …yeah, it could happen. Wrong timeline. Jessica's pace doesn't let up until she nearly collides with the man's outstretched hand, staring him down. "I should rip out your spine," she spits, fiery. "You shouldn't be here."

"Last I heard, D.L. was dead," Peter says, though he still makes no real moves to physically (or mentally) force her away from him. In fact his hand drops as she gets so close they're almost touching. That liquid courage she gave him earlier is still doing it's job— or maybe, for some strange reason, he has a deathwish. "No, I shouldn't be here…" More than just this hallway. More than just this building. But here he is. There's nothing confrontative in his voice. He's resigned. Quietly so, in fact. Already died once today. Already stood by and watched as a friend died… And she's right. He doesn't belong here.

"Some people don't know how to stay dead." Funny, how Jessica is talking about D.L. but seems to speak directly to the man in front of her. Peter oughta be a dead man walking too. Noticing his resigned behaviour only makes the deadly woman step in closer, gauging his mannerisms, his lack of the fight or flight response she had here in the hallway just a minute ago. Just when it seems like she's going to either come back with another scathing retort or, just maybe, punch him in the face so he'll stop being a kicked puppy, she instead grabs for his upper arm-with the intent to roughly drag him, like he's a petulant child, to the room she unlocked.

"Are you talking about me or— " That's as far as Peter gets before he gets grabbed firmly and dragged towards the room. What? He doesn't even think to fight at first. There's still dried blood all over him, his clothes are still torn and scorched in various places, and there's many abilities he could call upon to fight her off in this situation, including her own. But for the moment, he's too surprised to even manage a spark, much less a return deathgrip. "Je— Jessica?" he says, voice startled.

The dark marble flooring spreads into this room as well, black and grey blooming with charcoal veins over its gleaming surface. The lighting is comfortably ambient or ominously dim, depending on one's point of view — and why they're here. A wide, open space is made less wide and open by dividers in black wood and white paper: behind them, mystery. Otherwise, red prevails, pinned to the very walls in the form of curtains; rather than the sumptuous draperies of the lower floor, these decorations are more haphazard. A few curtains sparkle with beads or tassels. Not every wall is covered. To the left, a shadowed white wall houses several Rorschach Blots in frames; one such inkblot painting resembles a smoky blue helix.

An expansive plate-glass window monopolizes most of the wall opposite the entrance with a view of the cityscape. The view is lofty, and it's not hard to tell, from here, that some of the city is in ruins. The window is slightly dark, tinted, and electronic shutters wait on either side to horizontally engulf the view at a moment's notice. A heavy desk of black metal and thick glass sits boldly in front of the window. A few picture frames, their photos turned toward the high-backed black leather chair, are scattered on the desk along with some writing implements, a flat-screened computer monitor, a phone, and a silver letter opener. There are no chairs gathered 'round. The space is not meant to lend comfort to its guests.

Jessica is all business-if one's business is manhandling grown men, which, in this case, it is. The door is flung open and she waltzes in, her fingers digging into Peter's arm as she hauls him along for the ride. The room around them is an office… of… sorts. It's in the wide, open space in the middle that her rather furious stomping comes to an abrupt halt, punctuated by a whirl. Which is exactly when she lets go of Peter, fully expecting him to go crashing into a wall or, maybe, that lovely room divider. Whatever. Room decor is not her top priority. "Somethin' tells me you wanna die."

Indeed, Peter does slam into a wall. It hurts a little, but he manages to get back onto his feet— if leaning against the wall. There's a need to breathe for a few moments before he can answer. "I don't— want to die," he says, though the voice may not be convincing at all. It sounds as if he doesn't really care if he dies— maybe part of that has to with how many times he's died. Or what happened today. Or maybe he shouldn't have had two drinks. However, if he dies, really, really dies, he can't go back and fix anything.

Wasting no time, Jessica's smack dab in front of Peter again within the span of a few short seconds with zero concern for personal space. "There's gotta be a way to kill you for good, I'm surprised Nathan hasn't tried it." There's a growl to her voice, making it low, sultry, challenging. "Or I could just throw you out a window for being somewhere you don't belong." Let's go with that! Time to be viciously grabbing for Peter. By the throat.

Throwing him out a window? Sure, that wouldn't kill him, but it still hurts. The hand goes towards his neck, and Peter raises a hand to intercept. This time, he doesn't just leave it there. A crackle of electricity is the only warning, but at this range, it may not be anywhere near enough warning. She's practically touching him when it flies out, a small ball of lightning that he hopes will at least stun her for an instant. What he'll do after that— he honestly has no idea, but he will be moving away from the wall. He doesn't want to get pinned there. That was how she killed him the first time.

There's a slow clap coming from somewhere. Oh wait, it's coming from that wall. No, not that wall. The other wall where nothing is going on. With the way the wall shimmers and stuff and the fact that there's a large black man coming through it, could maybe just make things all that much cooler. Better. Something like that.

"Please. Don't stop on my account." D.L. tells Peter. "She always did like it rough."


The woman makes a sudden noise on the impact of the electricity, more of a shocked (ha, ha) guttural sound than a cry. It's enough to send her staggering back, one, two, five stumbling backwards steps in the open space. She doesn't quite fall, but it works: Jessica is stunned. How much is the blast of lightning and how much is the appearance of the man who is currently the bane of her existence? That's for our viewers at home to decide. "Well, what're you waiting for, boys?" she challenges, starting to get her bearings back.

Clapping. That draws his eyes as the young man only gets to move a few steps away. And there he is. The man Peter only saw twice in passing. But still someone he can recognize. He'd been told that he walked through walls. Apparently he can walk right out of his grave. "I thought you were dead." he asks in a stunned voice, looking at him with shock. People don't come back from the dead too often— unless they happen to be him. Sure, Hiro did it once. But he always thought it was fairly permenant for most people. What is he waiting for? He looks back towards Jessica. The hint of lightning crackles on his finger tips for another moment, and then disappears all together when his foot starts to slip into the floor. Just the heel. And only an inch. He stumbles backwards and ends up falling flat on his back in shock. What the hell just happened. At least his foot stopped falling into ripple-effect floor.

"I got better." Yeah, he had to say that. But D.L.'s looking off to the side before he realizes that Jessica's looking at him for a fight. There's so much hostility in this room. Mostly because of him showing up. Which is all about the way he's doing his thing. His showing up to make sure everything happens the way it should be happening. "Watch your step, kid. I've got business with Blondie." He would crack his knuckles if he wasn't phasing his hands right now, just to make sure Jessica doesn't try any funny business. "Who's the new boyfriend, Jess? I thought you were interning with the President…"


It's hard not to laugh at Peter's misfortune, so Jessica doesn't try to fight it. There's a huff and a smirk when his sudden use of the freakin' phasing husband's power backfires, but she's glowering at D.L. again in no time. "Mmmm, jealous, D.L.? You know Niki was pretty good friends with him after you went away." Between a man she can't touch, and a man she can't kill, this isn't the greatest situation ever — but fear is not an option here. Ever bold, she steps back, starting to circle the both of them, predatory and careful.

"You got better…" That's not something he's heard many people say. If that's the case— then maybe… Peter can't help but feel a small surge of hopefulness. If he goes back and tells Niki that her husband is probably alive maybe she'll… believe him? And then maybe she won't… turn into this. Interning with the President? "I thought Nathan tried to kill you?" he asks, pushing himself back to his feet. Or trying to. His hand slips through the floor the first time… At least his whole body isn't falling through the floor. That could end this conversation in a rather unfortunate way. The second try he's able to get back to his feet. For the moment.

D.L. just offers a little smirk. If only because of the fact that he's the kind of guy that doesn't really care any more. Especially, well, since Niki doesn't live any more. This is all Jessica. His weakness has been obliterated by her and so D.L. doesn't really have anything to worry about. He's a very dangerous man right about now. "You know. Back in the day, Jessica. That might've worked." He smirks and starts sliding across the floor, practically gliding since the phased feet are frictionless. "But since you killed my wife, I've been sort of… cold." And, of course, here comes one of his punches! Rar!

"Nathan didn't know what he was doing," Jessica snaps offhand. Her attention is split between the two men, but it mostly settles on D.L. Peter seems to be having his own problems with not falling through the floor. She's wise to watch him, but what she doesn't expect is how easily D.L. comes toward her. She shoves an arm up to try to stop what's coming, but she's not fast enough. He's faster. There's an actual *crack* as his fist hits her face and she goes down, whirling onto the floor and hitting it hard, rolling onto her side. When she starts to push herself up, there's blood already streaming from her nose and lip. If looks could kill, D.L. would be dead a hundred times by now. Seriously dead.

Nathan didn't— "You were involved with Logan," Peter suddenly says, realizing what's going on, finally. The hints had been there before, but it took this one to really get it to settle into place. It's surprising, honestly— but then again not at all. "You won't be getting much from him anymore…" He doesn't give his new nickname for the man, but— she's getting punched in the face by her husband. He looks over at him surprised and alarmed, his first instinct to take a few steps closer to her and actually reach out. She looks— "You didn't have to punch her. She's— your wife's still in there." She might deny it, but he's sure she is. He looks down towards her. He wants to help. He couldn't save Cass in this time period. But maybe… Maybe he can stand here and look at her and get nothing.

"I know, Boyscout." D.L. snaps at Peter, without taking his eyes off Jessica. He unphases and gets to stomping over to where she's fallen. Because, well, he's kind of ticked off. But if he wanted to kill her, he would've killed her already. He's been stalking her for over a year. Death would've come sooner than now. "What do you think I'm here for? To play hero?" The moment he gets close enough, he leans over to grab Jessica's hair (oh those hot blonde locks. mmmm.) to try and lift her back to her feet. So there can be interrogation things that happen.

Up Jessica goes. Thanks, D.L. She fights for purchase, scrambling for an instant to make sure her feet are on solid ground. That hateful glare of hers is made all the more vicious by the fact that her face is bloodied. It's wet on her lips as she breathes harshly through her mouth. She's through with words. Fingers come up to claw at the hand of the man who hauled her up. It's gotta be solid. She grabs at it, trying to pry and throw it away.

All the while, Peter's standing there, staring at her, trying desperately to send out a single thought. Just one. But he knows it's not working, so instead he tries yelling it out, "NIKI. STOP." That won't work, though. But it's worth a try. Even if he might be watching her husband get his hand ripped off. If this is anything at all like what's going on with his brother— he knows that Nathan had been there when Logan shot him. He couldn't take control, but he'd been there. Listening. Maybe she will be too.

Sure enough, D.L.'s hand is pulled. Luckily,it doesn't come off his body. But that same body ends up being hurled across the room. The hurl is pretty fast and thus D.L. doesn't even have time to phase. His back hits the wall and he slides right on down. Hitting the floor. Which he gets to phasing through within moments. Who knows what he's doing underneath there, but Jessica may be too distracted by the Peter (hopefully) to see D.L. phasing back up. Behind her. And thus, well, he goes for trying to grab her around the throat. Which might be dumb.

Niki? No answer. Jessica doesn't want to turn her back on Peter, but at this point, better him than D.L.; she remembers the last time he slipped through the floor. She wound up getting pulled down, too. In the brief interim, she turns about in a small circle and wipes the back of her hand underneath her nose, smearing both it and her face with blood. She licks her lips and— "Mmh!" She sees him, sure. Just as he's making with the grabbing around her throat. Instinctively, she's grabbing at him again, trying to pry free.

Telepathy isn't working. Maybe the length of time since he last saw the cop has such an affect on the ability that he can't manage to use it effectively. Peter does the only other thing he can think of, something he doesn't want to use. And even though D.L. is holding his own with phasing through the floor… "Jessica, if Niki's anywhere in there, let us talk to her." That's the most he can think of. His voice sounds funny. Maybe it won't work— maybe it won't be strong enough, but it's worth a try. It's something he'd decided to do if his lessons in the present had brought out Jessica and she tried to kill them all.

D.L. glares at Peter, "Back off, Boy Scout!", just long enough for Jessica to pull one of those sweet moves of hers to get him away. Which is not good for the body. He stumbles backwards, giving Jessica room. But he's pretty good with the staying on his feet. His arm is hurting like a mofo, though. She's got a grip on her, that's for damn sure. His body lunges in the next moment, though, where he's leaping at her to get his tackle on. Maybe if he can pin her down… he'll have a chance to do this. His way.

Jessica propels herself forward when she frees herself from D.L., those heels, suited more for dancing around a pole than fighting, let's be honest, striking the office floor. The command from the man from the wrong time has an affect on her - the words seem to slap her in the face. Her eyes squeeze shut, and when they open?… they're just as furious as they were before. She laughs, the sound rising up in sick contrast. "D.L.'s right, you know— " Jessica forces the words out, but is cut off abruptly as she goes crashing to the floor. In D.L.'s tackling grasp, the blonde's brows knit together in acute distress. Her blue eyes become distant, less ferocious, almost … confused. They rove from her attacker to the other. "Peter?" she… simpers. Her breath catches in gasps. "Help. H-help me— "

That look, those eyes. Peter can't help it. They cause a small panic. Maybe she heard him— maybe she's fighting it. But D.L. isn't about to stop. He's already grabbing onto her again. Reaching a hand out, he tries to grasp the man where he's holding her, attempting to pull him away. "Stop it, D.L., you're hurting her!" Her face already has breaking, blood on it. She's already been hurt in multiple ways. But how do you hold onto someone who can phase, even with the mind? Surely he can avoid that to. He's not trying to hurt, just trying to pry him away, help her escape. Little does he know, right?

D.L. is in the middle of this thing where he's trying to get his wife back. He can't see her eyes. He can't tell if it's the truth or not. But it's the only thing he's got to go on: her voice, that is. But he doesn't even get the chance to react, as the amazing power of Peter Petrelli (FULL NAME MEANS SHUN!) gets to prying him off. Wincing, because he's trying to force himself back down on her, he still ends up being peeled away like a can opener. He grunts, but keeps reaching… for Jessiki's ankle. "You don't /know/ her. Stay out of this!"

The imitation of Niki crawls on her hands and knees, swiftly scrambling out of D.L.'s reach until she shoves herself back onto her feet. She back-pedals unsteadily, as if dizzy, until she bumps against the desk. "Just calm down, everyone," she says in an oh-so-shaky and desperate voice. Wide-eyed and scared-looking, she holds onto the edge-and slowly creeps a hand along the desk's surface to curl her fingers around the letter opener that sits there. Surreptitiously, she sneaks it to the small of her back.

"I know that you're hurting her," Peter says, letting his hand drop as he looks at the woman, still believing without a doubt that this woman is Niki. But at least he's not trying to throw him away from her anymore, and he's not poised to attack. "Niki— Niki please… This doesn't need to— you— You don't have to keep fighting." He cares about her. She's a good friend. A glimmer of hope that he can bring her out of it is something he's grasping for— and she just happened to give it to him, whether faked or otherwise.

D.L. is not exactly sure he should be doing anything. Especially, well, considering that Peter's fighting for his wife. Well, fighting for his wife's sister. "You need to leave. Now." is what's being said to Peter. Though, his eyes are staring at Jessica the entire time. Since, well, that's how he manages to keep a close eye on her. Which, well, he doesn't trust her at all. "Things are about to get -really- ugly. Aren't they…" D.L. starts stalking towards FakeNiki. "… honey?"

"Niki" looks dubiously between the two of them, as if conflicted. Above all, scared. She keeps up with those glimmering eyes and wide open mouth. "D.L" It's easy to make her voice crack. Her face is practically broken. Lesser women would be crumpled in a corner long before this holding their face in pain. "I don't… want to fight anymore…" she says as she fingers that knife-like object behind her. "We can— we can stop this. D…?" Cue hopeful eyes. She watches D.L., but the act's not for him. Jessica knows he can see right through it. She's going to keep it up as long as she can because Peter believes her, and Peter can throw people like D.L. around and shoot lightning from his hands.

It's not helping D.L.'s case when, in all honesty, he's the aggressor at the moment. Peter raises a hand again, his left hand, and reaches out again, this time mentally tossing the black man towards the wall in an attempt to keep him from getting too close to the woman who's begging to stop. It might have been intended to pin him there, but he's never really dealt with someone who can phase right through it before, so there's a way to escape, at least.

D.L.'s slammed back against the wall. But that's not going to hold him. Not for long. There's a wince as he's hitting against the solidity of SYLAR'D… but then he goes Swayze. Which means, well, there's sliding right through the nonsense. And he stays that way. "You can't touch me, kid. I'm not going to tell you again." He actually looks over towards Peter. And he glares. Intimidation factor. "Back. Off." Staying phased, even as he walks towards Jessica. "Drop the charade before you get this white boy killed." Since this is all tensiony, it

A flash of true Jessica glares daggers at D.L., but she turns her head to do it. It'll take a little extra for him. to reach her, because she's inching away in the opposite direction. Where? Toward Peter, that's where. The guy who's trying to be Niki's hero here in the Syndicate headquarters. No place for heroes. She keeps her back to the window; as she passes by the desk, there's the risk of her reflection (more importantly, the shiny, silver reflection of the faux knife in her hand) catching in the broad glass window that looks out over the dark city. "I don't— understand. Peter, what's going on? D.L., baby, it's me…" Liar, liar.

And then the cell phone in the pocket of her kimono-like robe starts to ring.


What's going on? "Niki— it'll be okay, there's just a missunderstanding," Peter says, looking from her towards D.L. who's crossing the room towards her. He steps forward, attempting to get closer, even moving as if to put himself in front of the blonde woman who he really wants to believe in right now. "She's already hurt." She'd been on the brink of death not too long ago, and he'd saved her once. He wants to help her again, heal the damage done by her husband's fist. And he's especially not wanting them to fight anymore. But at least he doesn't try to toss the man again. Maybe if he just physically gets between them, everything will be okay.

And oh hey, phone's ringing. But he's more worried about approaching husband of doom. :(

Okay. See? Now this is where things are going to get hairy, because D.L. cannot stand it when someone stands between him and his destination. He stops and solidifies, as if that's going to make his imposing figure even more imposing. He's trying to do the whole intimidation factor. "Warned you." is all he says, rearing back and making a fist. Of course, there's no time like the present to swing like hell at Peter's face. If he has to fight him to fight her, then so be it. So far, he can phase through all this crazy SYLAR'D crap.

What phone?

Off-screen, Molly Walker leaves a message: "Well, since you're not answering your phone, I guess it's not really important for you to know that D.L. is in the building. Now, send me up something sweet. I want chocolate cake. Or maybe spaghetti. Or maybe chocolate covered spaghetti. Surprise me. Ciao."

The phone rings until Jessica shuts it off inside her pocket. Shut up. The pretender doesn't have to put on her Niki face now that Peter's in front of her. Behind him, she smirks, self-satisfied and mocking in D.L.'s direction, just in time for the pissed off husband to go ballistic on Peter's face. …That doesn't dampen her bloodied smirk any. If she could just get her hands on him— maybe. Maybe. Taking the distraction brought on for violence to do more violence, she lunges past Peter toward D.L., knife first. Okay, so maybe it's a pretend knife, but in Jessica's hands, it doesn't matter how sharp it's not.

Ow. That really hurt. Peter takes the punch right to the face, doesn't even try to stop the fist. He's knocked out of the way, actually, which makes things even more convenient for Jessica. His face blooded and broken, he's probably sporting a broken nose and jaw both, but he doesn't pass out, and he isn't unconscious, so that's a good sign. And it's already beginning to heal over. His eyes widen as he spots her lunging, though, but he can't even call out a warning, or a protest— his jaw isn't healed yet.

This is not good. Mostly, well, because of the fact that he's being letter opened. He doesn't see it coming, which isn't a good sign. In fact, he just catches the opening in the side. Wincing in pain, while the blood flows, he goes right into phasing. The phase is -towards- Jessica and through the side, peeling himself away from her arm and the evil instrument. It's almost flashback time as he extends his leg at the back of Jessica. He doesn't want to break her too much. It's still his wife's body! But still. Kick!

The makeshift knife falls before Jessica does. Slick with D.L.'s blood, it clatters down with its owner mere moments away. She goes sprawling onto her stomach, a mess of blonde hair, blue satin, skin and blood. Her arms sprawl on the floor past her head, one hand inches away from the letter opener. She doesn't move. Is she down for good this time?

There's a lot of people bleeding right now. Peter's among them, though he pushes his jaw back into place. Pretty soon all that's left is the broken nose. "That wasn't really Niki, was it?" he asks, looking down at her where she's fallen, wincing. His voice sounds off due to the broken nose that's still healing, and the broken jaw that's still healing. And he's breathing funny too. "I thought that…" That it was really her. And now he sounds rather distraught. Because he fought the wrong one, or because he really wanted her to be Niki. "You're hurt," he responds, the genius that he is, and pushes himself to his feet. He hopes that she's at least still breathing.

D.L. narrows his eyes, reaching down to touch his solid body. Blood, yes. But that's okay. He's been shot before. He's been through… way more than a stab wound. This is nothing. "I'll finish things here." And with one hand, he's pointing to the door. So that Peter can leave. While he finishes getting his wife back. Which, well, is what he needs. Especially, while Jessica's down. "This is a family affair…" Eyes are still on Jessica. Kind of.

Jessica is still breathing, but that's about all she's doing — aside from a harsh cough. She stirs, but doesn't make a move to get up. Maybe she's passed out. Maybe she's listening and waiting.

Family affair. Peter looks towards Jessica for a long moment, and then nods. "Take care of her— I'm glad you're alive. I'm sure Niki'll be happy to hear that." Like there's a chance that he'll be able to tell her. The wound has healed over entirely at this point, and he makes his way towards the door, as instructed. He opens it, glances back… and then disappears into the hallway. Of course he's forgetting about the special elevator and the super access card that is needed to get in. He'll probably have to open and window and try to fly. But he is leaving— even if he seems sad again.

D.L. narrows his eyes, looking up at Peter right quick, as if to make sure everything is kosher. And making sure he leaves. "Don't tell Niki!" is yelled after him, but he doesn't know if Peter heard it or not. Instead, his attention is focused on Jessica and he smiles. It's a smile that hasn't been seen on his lips before. It's a bit… wicked. "Now." He holds his hand up and is phased as he wiggles the fingers.

"Let's see if we can't find my wife…"


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