Starring:
Date: October 5, 2009
Summary:
Reunions and meddling don't always go well.
"Red Thread of Fate is Painful"
New York City
The onset of Fall gives rise to cool breezes and what little trees New York has to shift color, leaves fringed gold and red over green, to herald the holidays that will soon come to pass in the next few months. It is approaching six in the evening, the sun's blazing corona sinking further and deeper into the horizon and coaxing inky blues and purples to splash over the sky's eternal canvas. La Guardia airport, prone to the rush hours, is hectic and busy, planes lining up to land, people claiming luggage, cabs being hailed left and right. Fortunately, however, one such plane won't have to go through that particular hassle, scheduled to land on a private airstrip adjacent to the commercial runways to be picked up by a car courtesy of a very rich friend whose turn on the wheel turned out to be something rather favorable and convenient to a life fated to travel the skies rather regularly.
This time, however, this isn't an assignment.
After close to a year gone, with only sporadic visits back, Elena Gomez was coming home.
Chewing quietly on a fingernail, dark, gold-sharded eyes remain on the window, watching the runway lights get closer and closer as the plane drops altitude. The private jet, some manner of Airbus, makes a smooth descent from the twilight skies towards the concrete below. Her earbuds blare music in her ears, her mp3 player marked on a single track and completely and utterly oblivious of the attendant trying to get her attention… until the hapless and exasperated woman is forced to wave her hand over her eyes.
The junior reporter blinks, looking up. "Oh, sorry," she says, working her headphones from her ears. "What is it?"
"We'll be landing in a few moments, Miss Gomez, please buckle your seatbelt," the attendant replies, exhaling, but planting that patented Customer Service Smile to the young woman.
The brunette nods, securing her seatbelt and digging out her cherry red phone, flipping the top, and closing it, fiddling with it restlessly. This isn't her first time in planes, but this homecoming is hopefully going to be quiet. Pack up, get in a car, rendezvous with Kitty at wherever she's living now, stay there for a few days until the condo papers were signed and move in. Maybe get a cheeseburger or ten along the way.
—
Meanwhile at Hanner Manor, Kitty lounges on her couch in the living room. Her two cats prowl around the room. She has a 'Oh shit' look on her face as she holds the cell phone to her ear. Her hand runs through her hair and she looks up to the ceiling, "Pete.. the Cat Whisperer is here.." she says and closes her eyes, covering her hand with her mouth as her shoulders shake and her hands tighten up.
Ok so.. Kitty is being a bad girl..
"I'm sorry, but I'll love you til you turn six hundred and eight-two if you do me this favor. Just pick up my friend and drop them off here." Tiger looks at Kitty and if cats could shake their heads, that's exactly what he would be doing. Kitty blinks at Tiger and throws a pillow at him. Stupid cat, trying to ruin meh plans of mischief. "Please?" she draws the please out and looks hopeful.
—
"You're lucky you caught me when you did, my boss is refusing to let me take on another shift," Peter says into his phone as he moves toward the airport. Teleporting there will cover much of the distance between steps, letting him jump from one side of the city to another. He's tired, as usual, but that has little to do with his lack of sleep and more to do with just constantly doing things. More shifts, more missions, things that he tries to do to fill up the time.
This could even count. Doing favors for a friend.
"Okay, I see the car," he says, as his cellphone switches to a different tower without falling offline. Anyone tracking his cellphone would be very confused. "Good thing you sent had one there already, cause I don't even have a car— I don't really need it," he states the obvious as he looks around at the crowds of people. Teleporting the person wasn't an option. Getting into the car, he starts it up so he can move to the loading zone at one of the terminals. While he drives, he switches the phone over to speaker so he doesn't have to juggle both of that, and while he pulls up he finally asks, "You also said who I was meeting here. A business associate?"
—
The plane lands, touching down smoothly and rolling to a stop, just as a few cars enter the private airstrip. Airport crews brace the wheels on the ground, while a small carrier wheels a portable flight of stares closer to the jet as whatever it's carrying is being prepped to get on the ground. Somewhere within, its lone passenger unbuckles her seatbelt, depressing a few buttons on her red phone as another hand lifts up to unlatch the overhead compartment to pull out her laptop case. Elena's hair presses against her shoulder, sandwiched between the phone, blowing a lock of hair from her eyes as the device dials Kitty Hanner's line. A brief smile is flashed to the attendant in thanks, shouldering the bag and reaching out to grab a jacket.
Her appearance today is nondescript, her clothing straddling the line between professional and casual; black slacks, ballerina flats, and a soft, wide-necked sweater that slipped down a shoulder on occasion.
"Come on Kitty, pick up…" she murmurs softly.
And whenever she does…?
"Kitty? It's Elena… hi, I -just- landed, are you picking me up? Where am I meeting you?"
—
"Oh yeah, you don't need one." Kitty snickers and smiles. "Thanks so much for doing this." She says and closes her eyes. Tiger leaps onto her lap and then her phone beeps. "Hold on Peter, I'll be right back."
Click
"Heya!" Kitty says and looks excited as she greets her friend over the phone. "Nope, can't come get you. The shaman is in town, cleansing the manor so all the positive vibes will get stronger, ya know?" she brushes a lock of dark brown hair out of her eyes and she hops up from the couch. She makes her way towards the kitchen and hops onto the counter, her feet dangling. "But a friend of mine is coming to pick you up." She describes the car and grins. "I can't wait to see you." She says happily then she clicks over,
"Hello? Yeah, she's a good business associate of mine." Is Kitty's answer to Pete- Elena? Looking down at the caller id. "Oh! Elena. Bye!" Click.
"Yeah, she's a good business associate of mine." She says, this time to the real Peter. Whew, that was a close one.
—
"All right, I'm pulling up to the recieving terminal. I'll try to get a close place to sit and wait— do I need to go inside to help them with luggage?" Peter asks once he's back on the phone with Kitty, looking around as he gets in closer, to find a place to pull up and wait. He managed to get most of that out of the way while she was on the other line, but there's no suspicion in his voice. Not yet. She's never pulled something like this on him. On his partner, maybe, but…
"Okay, I think I got a good spot— it's about three cars back from the main exit line. It'd be easier if I could just travel the way I like to travel…" It's a muse, but it's an accurate one.
—
…….what?
"…. a shaman. In New York City," Elena replies, her tone as flat and as dry as the Death Valley. Skeptical? Just a little bit. Raking fingers through her hair, she adjusts the strap of her bag, waiting for the staircase to pull up and get latched onto the end of the plane as she continues speaking. "….wait, so if you're not picking me up, who is?" she wonders, taking a step out once the ground crew gives her the all-clear, a thumbs-up signaled to them from her height a few feet off the ground as she disembarks the plane. "And— what? I can't wait to see you too, but I don't… I think it's a little late to call Dezi now, I think she's covering for someone at the hospital." She checks her wristwatch, eyes on it as she heads down the stairs in quick, brisk strides. "Though I can always take a cab— it'll be great to see you too, but— "
Business associate?
BYE?
"Kitty, wait a second, I don't even— who's picking me up? I need to know what he looks like and— "
Click.
She sighs, rolling her head back and disengaging her cellphone from her ear. "Hide and seek then," she murmurs, stuffing the phone in her pockets and looking around for a car - a limousine? A driver with a Ms. Gomez placard? Her hand lifts to push her tousled hair out of her face, blown this way and that by jet streams swirling around the airport at so many landings.
—
"Oh don't be so whiny, if you don't drive a car every once in a while, you'll forget. Right?" she says and grins. She looks down at her toes and then wrinkles her forehead. "Ok, so you'll see her. Very pretty girl, gorgeous!" Kitty says and she waves her hands in the air.
"I'll see you when you drop her off over here. I'll be making Root beer floats! Bye!" Before Peter can say another word to Kitty, she hangs up the phone. Swinging off the counter she taps a button on a stereo in the kitchen and a song begins to play. "I love you.. you.." she sings to herself as she begins to dig in the fridge. OOHH GOODIES.
—
"Kitty, I'm not whi— how am I going to— do you have any idea how many very pretty girls there are in New York City?" Peter says into the phone— to a bunch of nothing. She'd already hung up on him. "Damnit, Kitty," he mutters, putting his phone back into the pouch and setting it into his pocket. This could take quite a bit, it's not even like the car is properly marked for such a thing. It's not a limo, he has no sign to hold up. So he just gets outside and begins to move around the car, to get to where he can see the people exiting.
If he has to, he'll scan minds until he—
Spots Elena.
It's like something just got thrown at his face, or someone dropped an icecube down the back of his shirt. He stands up straighter, he looks stunned, and his mouth stays open.
All of a sudden he pulls his phone back out and begins dialling, hoping that she doesn't spot him right away. It could just be a coindicence.
—
She doesn't see Peter at first, who keeps dialing somewhere behind her, Elena lifting a hand to wave towards the attendants on the ground who are busy unloading her luggage - and there wasn't much of it, a few boxes and two suitcases - to a wheeled carrier and sighing softly, fingers drifting upwards to rub on her eyelids, rubbing in quiet, circular motions. Reaching into her pockets, she pulls out her phone again, to start dialing Kitty Hanner's number. "Come on, Kitty," she mutters, lifting the receiver up against her ear as she walks down the concrete path, angling her body to turn around and face the cars that had just…
"……."
If the world had been transformed into a comic book, her speech bubble would be full of dots, phone in hand and gaping at the sight of a dark-haired figure by a car, holding his own cellphone and looking just as perturbed as he is. She looks down at her phone. Looks up at Peter. Looks down at her phone. Looks up at Peter. Looks down at her phone again.
Shaman. In. New York City.
Realization dawns on her like icewater, braiding down her spine and sending its sharp tickles down suddenly enlivened nerve endings, adrenaline pouring into her bloodstream as breath leaves her body.
Oh, no.
No way.
—
Kitty's not picking up. The phone switches over to voicemail finally, and Peter has a few words to say into the phone. "Your idea of a joke isn't very funny, Kit." It's clear and firm, but the point gets acrossed. He's not amused. Sliding the phone back into the holder, he reaches down to straighten his long black coat, which he's wearing over his paramedic uniform, and walks forward, leaving the car running.
She looks older— different really. Something about the way she stands looks very little like the woman he first few— or even the one he met in the future. Closer to that age, there's something very different about this woman.
But he would recognize her anywhere. Something about he jumps out at him in a crowd.
There's tired around his eyes. Overworked, over-wrought, he's been using abilities far more than is probably safe. There's something off about his face. An ability always in use to hide scars that his father put there. A kind of tension that's only grown in the last two years that she's known him.
That ticking bomb inside his head will never quite go away.
"Kitty's not answering her phone. Probably getting a good snicker behind our backs."
He's going to… not kill her. But kick her. A lot.
—
She's still gaping at him as he leaves the car running and strides towards her, a dark, hazel-eyed spectre from a past she wasn't sure she's ready to embrace. Eyes remain wide, dark save for those golden flecks, fringed with long lashes and a look that crossed the median between shock and surprise. Of all the airports in all the world, he had to be the one conned by a wealthy friend to come get her. Somewhere, somehow, she could feel deities spanning across different cultures keying in on this moment, with popcorn, ready to laugh their heads off at the tragic comedy presented on the cosmic theater of her life. Every step takes him closer, and for once in a very, very, very, very long time, Elena Gomez has absolutely no idea what to say, rooted on the spot, lips slightly parted and frozen on words she can't quite bring herself to vocalize out loud.
Until he says what he does, uniting her thoughts and his against a COMMON ENEMY.
She sighs, reanimated, finally, from her shocked and frozen position, tucking her phone back into her pocket. "Knew something had to be up when she mentioned a shaman visiting her house," she tells him. "I hate to say it, but we've been had… and pretty badly. By Kitty Hanner." She will never live this down in a million years. "I won't speak of this to anyone if you won't."
There's a pause, her eyes wander away from him, though they make that same, circuitous route back to the overworked features on his face. Despite the tension, her giving heart forces the fae-lines of her visage to soften. "You look tired, Peter."
—
"I am tired," Peter says simply, with no attempt to hide any of it. She can read him better than most people can, but he's been projecting a high level of tiredness the last few weeks especially. So many things to do and he doesn't get much time to sleep. Even with the abilities he has, he still needs a few hours of sleep a night, and he's packing what little sleep he gets into fewer hours that is actually healthy for him.
"If she wouldn't have asked me by phone I wouldn't have fallen for it… She even had a car here waiting, cause she knew I don't drive myself anymore," he says, glancing back at the car. It's still running, and there's people who are probably wanting his spot.
The state of tiredness makes it difficult for him to deal completely with the moment. Elena…
In some ways he's glad to see her. In the airport and not shoved in a van and dragged off to a Building 26. But in other ways…
His eyes drop down away from her face, and he sticks his hands into his pockets for a moment, shifting his weight until he can look back up. "I guess we should get your things loaded so I can drive you to Kitty's place…"
—
"I told you before about getting spread too thin," Elena replies, the words automatically flying out of her mouth - she can't help it, a whole year, and some responses still felt natural when presented by the face before her. Determined not to mirror his own stance, she crosses her arms loosely over her torso, for a moment digesting the following words he speaks. "It's dangerous, Peter. It might've been a while but your level of control is determined by how much— " She stops there, tightening her throat around the words. He was a grown man, inching closer to thirty. He didn't need a 21 year old babying him.
She nods, at his words regarding Kitty. "I remember, your telep— " She halts there, a furitive glance making a practiced sweep in their surroundings. "It doesn't work through electronics." All that time spent assisting him then, regarding his abilities, makes their mark on a young woman who has not forgotten much, if anything. She turns away from him momentarily, stamping down on the heavy, awkward blanket thrown on their vicinity, waving her hand to the ground crew to gesture to the car and get things loaded.
It shifts to the side afterwards, palm up, fingers extended to his direction. "I'll drive," she offers. He can take it or not, but her charitable nature isn't about to let him deal with New York traffic during rush hour when he looks the way he does…
When his body is the way it is.
He can sense she's using, a deft, more practiced control over abilities that can, above everything else, diagnose his levels.
—
There's a noticable flinch of tension as the lecture begins, but it doesn't get very far. Perhaps for the best, that, it's obvious Peter was starting to withdrawl, just not physically yet. It started when he glances away, and his eyes stay on the pavement for a time, even when she trails off and starts to talk about his abilities instead.
"It's more that it doesn't work at that distance. It's the range more than the medium. If she was on the other side of the room on the phone, I could still do it…" He says, looking back up a bit. Even with everything else, there's some fascination with abilities that he can't quite lose. Some abilities he hates, but most of them have something worthwhile.
"You'll drive… Kinda thinking Kitty didn't even need me to pick you up. She could've just had the keys waiting in the car and told you where it was…"
But her getting to Kitty's place wasn't really the point. With the ground crew handling the luggage, it's not even necessary that he do much in that department, but he says, "I really am okay, Elena. I can drive, but if you insist, I'll let you handle it… I'll help getting your things in the car, though."
With that said, he breaks away, turning around to go and get the trunk open and help with loading her things. It gives a distraction. Why is it so hard to look directly at her?
—
She looks surprised at that, the old glimmer of fascination when he reveals that he can, now, is something she can't quite hide. "…really? When did you— " Learn it. Developed to that front. But when he lets his eyes roam away again, that same, awkward silence falls, Elena inwardly screaming/groaning at how this is going, grasping at straws and focusing on him instead of the space in between. It was much safer, it was something she could talk about, filling the pockets of silence with something so it didn't have to feel so….
Alien.
"Well, I think that was the point - you and I being in the same space together. I know she likes appearing so cheerful but… when she worries, she…" There is another pause. "She worries." And leaves it at that, because it is true, and the most honest side of her isn't about to make any assumptions regarding her college friend. When he breaks away, she lets him, sliding her hands in her pockets and turning to peek into the car, looking over the leather interior and its capabilities. Automatic. She nods at that, not having had the time to learn stick. The Evosoft GPS device is mounted on the side, the familiar logo brushed over by delicate fingers as they move across the touch screen to hit on recent places.
Kitty's address was already on there.
"Definitely a trap," she murmurs, busying herself with that. Despite doing most of the talking, despite the confidence, despite seeming unperturbed seeing him again, however, she is more than happy to tweak around the settings of the car until it's time to go.
Perhaps she can't look at him directly for too long either.
The trunk is open, three boxes, two suitcases. True to form, Elena always packed light, wherever she went. This was supposed to be a full-on move, and yet she manages to consolidate her entire life in five items.
—
"I've had a lot of practice," Peter says simply to his growing abilites, before he turns all of his attention on the menial things. Loading boxes, suitcases— it really isn't nearly enough stuff. Not that it isn't enough to live off, it's not enough to occupy his attention for very long. There's cars envious of the spot, the men loading have other places to be, and he's wishing there was more to stuff into the car.
With everything in place, she might spot through the mirror cash getting handed over to the men. He says thank you to them, and they wheel away their carrier to go help others. The truck doesn't go down just yet. For a time, it might even seem like he decided to teleport out as soon as everything was loaded.
Then a hand touches the trunk and pulls it down with a heavy sound, and he rounds the passanger side and opens the door, sliding into the seat and doing his seatbelt without glancing over.
There's that awkward pause again. They should be able to fill in the silence with some noise.
A few slow breaths later and he asks, still looking straight forward, "Are you— okay? You said that Kitty was worried and… is everything okay?"
—
She says nothing, for the time being, Elena sliding in on the driver's seat and closing the door. The engine left running, she reaches over to buckle herself in, tightening it - slender, still, her powers always lent her towards being five pounds underweight at any given time, though at the very least she's been able to maintain that before her body mass gets dangerously low. She adjusts the mirrors, the seat, depresses the button on the GPS to get going. Jabbing her finger on the autolock, she shifts gears, undoes the parking break, and steps on the gass. She's managed to learn how to drive in a year, having taken advantage of her frightening learning curve and more than probably galvanized by that same, independent spirit that kept her from being too much of a burden to anyone who cared or looked after her.
It's a while when she speaks, though thankfully she has an excuse to keep her eyes forward - she has to watch the road, after all. "She's just worried, about you…. and me. She's always been very sweet, she just wants to see her friends happy. As for everything being okay…I don't really know."
She taps on the brakes, once she hits the first red light in a series of red lights down the long road to Kitty's place. "I talked to Trina this morning," she tells him, her jaw setting. "She mentioned something… I wasn't going to be… I wasn't supposed to be here for another week, but something she said…" She turns to look at him, finally, her expression serious. "Do you know what's going on with them? Trina and Jack. Did she mention anything…?"
—
"Yeah… happy," Peter says quietly, shifting his eyes to the mirror at his side and watching the world through the mirror. He can't quite see himself, but a transparent outline is visible in the light splashed window. She's got the tough part, driving through New York city traffic, and he doesn't even need to give directions with the GPS helping her every step of the way.
For a time, he wonders if he should just get out and leave… Does she want him to leave? Would she be happier if she was left to get there on her own?
Kitty wouldn't be happy. But she'd deserve it if he did just disappear out of the car.
"I saw Trina last night," he admits, looking away from the mirror and glancing in her general direction, but not quite at her again. "There's— something happening. I didn't find out about it from Trina. I'd went to warn her and Jack, actually. I'd already warned Cass and a few others… I know a little more now, too," he says, glancing back to the mirror.
Would his brother have been able to stop this kind of thing? Did his brother start it with his strange inititives when Logan was in charge?
"The anti-terrorism thing going on with the government right now— There's a mission. Alpha Protocol. The government is investigating and neutralizing threats to American soil. And by that they seem to mean anyone with an ability." Dire conversation.
—
She doesn't seem to notice, her expression schooled carefully, but the word from that bedroom voice causes something in her to sink and crumple at the same time, yanking at her stomach and curdling at her blood. Elena restrains herself from beeping at the horn too loudly when a cab cuts her off, putting on the brakes and having seen it. The golden shards of her eyes glitter, her concentration focused on both the conversation and keeping up her boosted senses… this was practice, her control much smoother, enhancing her agility and her sight to be able to maneuver traffic safely. Without it, she would've been crushed many times by DC traffic. New York was no different, and in some cases, much worse.
She is no mind reader, she doesn't know what he's thinking. If it were two years ago, she would ask, and he would answer. Fluid lines of communication that bypassed the glass wall that stood erect and unyielding in between. That's not to say she's not listening, however. She is, and intently - and for the moment, the space is filled with something.
"When I called," she begins. "She seemed happy." She did, she could remember the enthusiastic greeting, from miles and miles away. "But then…. she said that if I came back, she needed to talk to me, but it wasn't 'phone and tea' conversation. Whatever she has to tell me she wants to do it in person. I'm just…I worry, every time she does that. Trina doesn't typically say things like that unless it's important." Her fingers tighten on the steering wheel. "Could be about this, could be about something else. Anti-terrorism policies have been tightened up since 9/11, but this is the first I've heard of the Alpha Protocol."
The threat was there, but she doesn't seem to fear it. "I picked a hell of a time for a career change," she muses with the faintest of smiles, tugging up on her dew-clung mouth. "This is supposed to be the kind of stuff I ought to be writing about."
—
"I don't think Alpha Protocol is something they'll be announcing to many people, so I wouldn't ask questions about it," Peter says, still looking out the window for the most part as the city moves away from them, past them, closer to them. Movement is just like time. Things far away seem impossibly far— and then startingly close, and then suddenly far behind and difficult to see. There's always going to be things behind to look out for that are far away, but it's the ones that are close that cause a potential accident…
"When I first heard the terrorism talk I thought it was just business as usual. I didn't connect it to what we were seeing happening in the Company until I talked to Trina and…" he trails off. The Company. There's silence again, as he looks at buildings that pass by. This kind of thing is what he joined the Company to avoid. To make sure they only locked up the people who were really dangerous, or who were using their abilities to do dangerous things. There's always some that are missunderstood, and those are the ones he petitions to get released…
"I think Trina's afraid of Jack getting caught up in it. This is exactly the kind of thing that… that he would rally against." That the Saints rallied against.
—
"It sounds like the sort of thing that would be kept under wraps," Elena agrees. "My assignment is the Cairns matter anyway, there's something shady going on with that." The last is a murmur, a little more contemplative, tapping on the brakes again so she could turn the wheel and make a right at the corner before continuing on, her mind trailing down dark pathways wondering just how a murder could be pinned on a public servant without a body. Less world-shaking than what he's telling her now, but it's something to think about even as she divides her concentration between driving and the conversation at hand.
And then, he brings it up.
The Company.
He could see the subtle tensing of her shoulders, should his eyes gravitate back to her. "I'd…. have thought you left…. You're wearing a paramedic's uniform." Observant, as always, the thing had been glimpsed under the dark coat he wore. "Those hours aren't kind… Dezi's an EMT herself, I know." He was keeping two jobs. It was a miracle he even had time to breathe.
Exhaustion seeps into the line of her profile, at that, remembering the same arguments, circular, tumbling over and over the hamster's wheel at the back of her head.
—
"I— was going in to take a shift, but my boss ordered me to take some time off. Said I looked too tired— and I've been working double or triple shifts for a week now," Peter says, still looking out the window for a time. There's that tiredness in his voice and eyes. It's no wonder his boss tried to send him home for sleep. "Kitty chose a good time to call." A hour earlier, he'd have said no, because he had to work, and hour later and he might have been asleep at his apartment. Or saving the world in another way.
"I didn't leave. The work at the Company is important. I wouldn't know as much as I did about Alpha Protocol if I didn't work for them," he says, finally looking over. The tired in his voice gets replaced by something else, closer to determination. This is an old argument. And one he never did like being questioned on.
It was his decision, even if his mother approached him with it. It was something he felt he had to do.
"I'm making a difference there, Elena. They're not the same Company that they were two years ago."
—
"Company work isn't exactly kind either," Elena replies, her jaw setting stubbornly from where she is seated, tapping on the brakes and leaving it there when she hits another red light. "EMT by day, agent by night?" To her credit, her voice is still mild, she might have handed the carte blanche that she had held for a couple of years that gave her the right to be worried about him. But she knew the signs of implosion when she sees them, that something isn't quite right with him and anger simmers in the undercurrents of her passionate nature… not at him, not with regards to this, but that the people he was close to now, people he was working with, aren't putting their foot down to do or say anything about it. Part of her hated herself for recognizing it, as well, even as she turns her head to look at him directly in the eye, an effort to pin him to where he's seated.
"Do you really trust that, still? After everything?" she replies, her lips pressing together. "That they would just turn around and do a complete one-eighty over tried and true tactics perfected over… what? Decades?" She remembers the picture, the founders, the aged photograph they came across in one of their many moments together in his apartment. She takes a deep breath then, forcing herself to look away from him, and closing her eyes. "The only reason I'm willing to give this entire thing the benefit of the doubt is the fact that your heart is always in the right place. That you'll always try to do the right thing. I just…"
BEEP BEEP.
The honking behind them causes her eyes to fly open, jerking upwards to the rearview mirror. The light had turned green, a moment ago. She depresses on the gas again.
—
"I trust it because I've seen it. The Company can't keep secrets from me anymore," Peter says, focused and firm when he says this, as if he has more than a little experience making sure that that is exactly what happens. No secrets. Change the game. Do something different and keep the people safe. There's questions he still needs to ask, but that's for another time. Day and night don't much matter to someone who sleeps less than four hours a night most the time…
"You didn't give me the benefit of the doubt, Elena," he suddenly says, voice deepening for a moment. This actually isn't the usual argument, but they haven't talked in a while so he hasn't had the opportunity to say this particular detail. "You left. And you didn't come back. You didn't…" he trails off, jaw tightening as he looks away. "Nevermind." There's that tone to his voice, something even darker than before. She did what she had to do, she finished her school, she has a new career.
"I still haven't found Nathan."
—
"They spent the last how many years turning Deception into an art form, Peter," Elena counters, yanking the wheel a little bit harder to the side than her usual wont, slipping through traffic and feeling the rise of yet another argument seeping into the confined spaces of the car. "It's true, you're a telepath, but you're also just one person. I'm not saying you're not capable, but several decades is a lot of ground to cover, and a lot of damage, incidental or collateral, to fix. Maybe you're right and things have changed, but I doubt it very much that there aren't things that they're still keeping from you. Would that be so hard to believe? That they're capable still? An organization that employs… what? Telekinetics, gunfighters, shapeshifters. Psychics. So many talents under one umbrella and you think they won't be able to find a way if they really don't want you to find out about something?"
The last, in particular, stung, and spying a vacant spot, she suddenly shifts, the wheel spinning around her hands to slip the car full-speed into that opening so she could drive the car into an alley and force it completely into a stop. It isn't a dead end, they can see the opening that yields into yet another street. The GPS in the car blares in protest in the shift of direction, but it was dangerous to drive while having this conversation, turning sideways to face him fully, her features tight.
"Yes. I left. I left, but only because you didn't make it easy to stay. Killing. Absorbing Sylar's powers. Vanishing. Lapsing into a coma. And I stayed. I stayed through all of that, because I know you and I loved you and you'll always try and do the best you can, and then you… after everything they did to you and me, you still… did you really think it would be easy after that? It wasn't as if you didn't know where I stood, regarding them. You knew. You knew, Peter."
She lapses into silence after that, turning away and slumping her head backwards on the seat. Not even an hour back and…
When he brings up Nathan, despite earlier words… "Have you asked Gene to help look for him?" she says, quietly, after a long moment of quiet.
—
As the car stops, there's a sudden settling in the seat by Peter. The longer the conversation goes on, the more tense he looks. As she faces him fully, he doesn't look back at her. Not yet. Could the Company still be hiding things from him? Perhaps. They could be, but he has to believe they won't because they're different. They're the main line of defense that will keep people safe. They get the Mandys off the street. They lock away the Kellies. They keep people who would rip someone's face off from doing that again.
But there's always the possibility of deception. Always the crimes of the past.
But she has to bring up the things he couldn't control. He didn't try to take Sylar's power. He didn't mean to kill Kaito. He killed Kaito over the same things that she's yelling at him for joining the Company about. Which would be another reason he can't think too much on it. If he does, who knows what would happen to people.
He didn't try to get locked up. None of that was his own fault. And joining the Company had been the best option that had been presented to him.
"I don't think there's anyone who can help me find Nathan. I've tried everything. I've been looking for a whole year, Elena and I haven't found anything." His hand suddenly goes down to the door, gripping the handle that would open it. He doesn't pull the door open. He'd have to take off his seatbelt still, but… "You know, you can handle yourself the rest of the way. You don't need me to go along with you."
—
She didn't blame him for all of that - the most difficult parts of their relationship recounted only to illustrate that she stayed through all of them despite his accusations that she didn't give him the benefit of the doubt when that had all she'd been doing for the last year of their relationship, that when she had left it had been some kind of breaking point, steam-boiler pressure on a decision he had made that he didn't even so much as notified her about. He might look tense, but Elena is unrelenting, tossing forward the truth as she sees it. He's a grown man, she wasn't a teenager anymore. And if he was bringing everything else up, she was going to let him but not without saying what she has to say either. How else was it going to go?
"Did you ask Molly?" Wherever that little girl was. She remembered, because she had asked her to help him find her father and Dezi before. If she hadn't found Nathan by now, either Molly didn't see him, or Peter couldn't get to Molly either. But even now she was trying to solve problems, that formidable brain burning neurons to find a solution despite the firestorm of emotional turmoil culled from her by his insistence.
At the last when he grips the door handle, she doesn't look at him. "You didn't have to ride with me either," she replies, lashes falling over her eyes to keep telltale pinpricks of heat stabbing behind her lids at bay.
—
"I've done everything I can think of, Elena," Peter says, suddenly snapping. Perhaps because it sounds like she's offering ideas that he had thought of over a year ago now. His brother hasn't been missing for a month or a week. These kinds of brainstorms were things that have long since been thought of. "Some people are just—" Hard to find. Impossible perhaps. He's used normal methods, power methods. He's physically gone to places in the world to look for him.
"I— I don't know why I came along. It was stupid of me," he says, moving his hand over to the seatbelt and unbuckling it, letting it come off. It snaps rather forcefully against the side of the car.
This didn't go well at all. She's hurt, and he's hurt. And it's not going to change. Right now he's the one who wants to be anywhere but here. "Tell Kitty to mind her own god damn business," he adds, before reaching down to open the door, so he can step out of the car.
—
Her jaw hardens at that - if he was going to bring it up only to declare it impossible, then why the hell bring it up at all? The urge to grab him and shake him was nigh-near overwhelming, but Elena stays her hands, gripping them over the steering wheel and her gaze fixed on him as he fumbles with the seatbelt and gets out of the car. She makes no move to stop him, her gaze wandering away from him when he jerks his body out of the passenger seat. His words on Kitty, said out of anger, only causes her to close her eyes yet again, forcing her fingers to relax their hold on the steering wheel.
He didn't know why he came along, and that it was stupid of him. Maybe he was honest in that he didn't know, but she did, and the dull ache only sharpens on the edges.
"She was only trying to help." It was the truth, and despite how badly this went, there was no way she could direct her anger towards Kitty, either. It wouldn't be just. It wouldn't be fair.
—
Or he was lying to defend himself. The reasons are something that he maybe doesn't want to admit to, right now. Peter wanted to be with her, wanted to talk to her again. But it only brought back that she left him, and wasn't there and… "She didn't help," he says, stepping up and out of the car, facing the alley wall and looking at it, holding the car door open for a few moments longer. "You're friends with Kitty and she joined up with the Company too."
In his mind, that should have been reason enough for her to stay, to at least give some kind of support to his decision. To at least stay beside him while he looked for his brother. While he tried to do what he thought was right. He's not kidnapping harmless people and erasing their memories and he's not letting them do it either.
"It's not supposed to be easy… staying with someone. But if you really wanted to, you would have done it," keeping his eyes off of her.
—
Her grip tightens on the steering wheel at that. When Elena speaks, it's with clenched teeth. "She didn't…doesn't…and will never know what the Company took from me," she whispers, her words barely a breath. "What the Company took from my father. What it continued to do to you and me, and you again and countless others later. In fact the only person I know that I still talk to who knows everything is you." Leather bites into her grip, stinging her palms… and despite having the ability to stem the pain, she doesn't use it. "What I know. What I felt after finding out that they… everything."
She takes a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. "I was with you for two years," she tells him. "If there's anyone who knows how hard it is to stay in a relationship that's tested over and over and over again by things no normal person has to go through, it's me." Her gaze lifts, to look over to the place where he's standing and not looking at her. "I stayed when most people would've left. I supported you through all of that. I was there. But the one thing… the one thing I felt strongly about and you… you didn't even talk to me about it, Peter. You just went off and… am I always supposed to be the one to— what about— ?"
What she felt.
Did that ever matter, after all?
—
"It was one person in the Company, Elena. One person who is dead. It wasn't the entire Company that plotted to let the man who killed your mother out," Peter says, turning back toward the car, voice raising a bit. A poor homeless dude who might use the alley as a flopspot is getting to witness a confusing argument, that's just getting louder. Maybe he should have stayed in the car a little longer.
"Maybe there needed to be someone in the Company who would have been able to stop that from happening. Maybe it could have been someone like me, and you— It wasn't like the entire Company decided to do these things and— god damnit, Elena. The people who were running the Company at that time, most of them, they're dead. That's why it should be different— it should— You didn't even…"
His voice breaks. She stayed when most people would have left, and just when he finally started to get his life figured out and do something that actually helped people… when he started to find a purpose again, and… "You knew how I felt about the Company too. Everything that they did to me… And I still made the decision to work with them so I could make sure they changed, that they didn't hurt anyone the way they hurt us again. Maybe you stayed when you should have left, and you left when you should have stayed," he finally says, pushing the door closed on her. He could teleport, fly, or speed off, but he just begins to walk away down the alley toward the entrance they came in.
—
The first words stung, especially, heat intensifying behind her eyes, but certainly not out of anger. Even when Peter rails at her for that one person, or several, or whoever else is dead, she says nothing… not yet, watching the man before her justify past actions by what he's doing in the present. Some part of her breaks, something like glass shattering at the back of her consciousness that she's too proud to acknowledge currently. She couldn't breathe, the pain was indescribable, but she manages to stay, for the most part, composed, though if he used any one of his psychic talents for the time being, he would know she's anything but.
"You wouldn't be so forgiving," Elena replies after a pause, after his series of arguments, the rants, the fact that the old regime is dead. "If they had taken Nathan from you."
And that was it.
The door slams shut, and he starts walking. Her position remains in its rigid state, until she knows she's alone, homeless guy notwithstanding, her arms curling over her steering wheel and burying her head there, boneless, the pinpricks intensifying behind closed eyelids. She'll go, in her own time, but she can't drive in the state she was, and despite some part of her dying, she was not suicidal.
But she will, eventually.