2008-01-21: Rest While You Can


Heidi_icon.gif Angela_icon.gif

Summary: Angela visits Heidi in the hospital.

Date It Happened: January 21st, 2008

Rest While You Can

Mount Sinai Hospital, NYC

Heidi spent most of the night in the Intensive Care Unit, connected to just about every monitor the hospital could throw at her. Heart machines, oxygen, an IV, an EEG, and others are still hooked up, even if she's now in a private room.

It's a pretty normal room. White-walled, quiet, with the shades drawn shut, a few chairs here and there, and a dresser that already has a couple vases full of flowers. It looks like someone's taken a break from keeping vigil, as a coat is slung over the back of one of the chairs. At the moment, though, the only person in the room is Heidi.

She's sleeping, though the monitors make constant beeping noises. Electrodes from the EEG are stuck into her hair, matting it, though someone's taken the time to push it out of her face. Said face is bruised and cut, with bandages covering a good portion of one side of her forehead, and down one side. There's a tube down her throat, underneath an oxygen mask.

Both arms are lying atop the blanket, and they're both in casts. It looks like Simon and Monty have been here, since there's green scrawling all over one of them that says 'I love you, Mom,' and there might also be a doodle of a t-rex. Any other injuries aren't immediately apparent, covered by the blanket.

The mother-in-law of the woman who was so unfortunately hospitalized the day before is paying a visit. And she's not timely, considering it's been many hours — a full day — since Heidi was admitted to the hospital.

In the corridor outside the room, with a phone pressed to her ear, Angela Petrelli walks briskly alongside a tall, dark man who, with his imposing bearing and the way in which he keeps a vigilant eye on everything going around the woman, seems to be a bodyguard. But the way in which Angela lays a hand on the Haitian's arm as she urges them to come to a stop a few feet from Heidi's door suggests a more complex relationship. "Yes, I won't stay long," she says into the phone, her distinctive voice drifting in sharp pieces from the hall. She flashes the Haitian a brief smile and holds up a hand, which also holds soft leather gloves, in a gesture of 'wait'. "By now he must know." Angela waits to hear the response on the other line; then, "Contact me the instant you hear anything." The call is ended.

The Haitian is given a nod; he remains in the corridor, a silent guard. Angela steps to Heidi's room, the dark, angular shape of her long, black coat cutting into the doorway's empty space. A pale blue scarf winds loosely around her neck, sitting purposefully on one shoulder like some kind of sash of power. She spends a moment simply regarding the bedridden woman, fingering the gloves she holds in one hand. "Heidi."

With the in-and-out of consciousness, Heidi really hasn't been able to monitor the time, and so it's likely that she'll forgive Angela for being a little late.

Waking is slow, though, eventually, her eyelids move, giving the barest indication that she's heard her name. There's no panic when she wakes up, at least visibly, though the shock of pain and immobility hits Heidi, and the heart monitor betrays her consciousness with beeps that come just a little closer together now.

There was an accident. She remembers now. Her eyes open, dark and dull, and at first, they stare up at the ceiling before they glance toward Angela. Does she know? Has she figured it out? With the tube in her throat, Heidi can't say anything, but she tries. It just doesn't end with anything intelligible.

Steps are taken towards Heidi, although Angela stops at the very end of it, placing her hands on the foot of the bed and leaning ever-so-slightly over the woman. Slight, but enough to loom. Her face, however, is full of sympathy. "The boys are in the lobby." She suspects Heidi's sons will be one of the first things on her mind. The woman's mouth flickers into a rather cheerless smile. It's pitying. "History is doomed to repeat itself," the elder Mrs. Petrelli says, reflective. "No matter how hard we try to alter the present, the past bleeds into the future. Are you in much pain, dear?"

She didn't do this. It wasn't her fault. Her mother said something about Heidi being the driver, but there was more to it than that. It's not as open and shut as people think!

She's so tired, though, and has already tried to convey this at many points throughout the day. She's sure she gave Logan's name in the ambulance. Why isn't anyone listening? This is important!

Heidi's eyes close again, and, like one of those early-morning dreams where you think you've already gotten out of bed when you're really still asleep, Heidi sees herself telling Angela the truth. However, when she's again awakened by her mother-in-law's voice, she's still lying down.

All she does is stare. What's the use in lying? She's already frustrated enough as it is! In the end, she nods once - yes, it hurts. All over.

Angela slowly stands upright, methodically tucking her gloves into a pocket of her stately coat. She moves to Heidi's bedside and gently pushes aside the woman's hair from her face, lest it threaten to fall again. She looks down into Heidi's eyes. "Oh, Heidi," she fusses in a whispery voice, chastising, not the woman herself — rather, her situation. Time and again. She glances away, calculating eyes taking in the various monitors, but continues to speak, not distracted. "Life hasn't been very fair to you." Angela's hand snakes away, reaching out toward the cord trailing from one of Heidi's IVs to her arm. It has a button, which she presses. Morphine. "Nathan's inauguration is today," she turns tide and comments conversationally, as if Heidi could respond. "It's such a shame you'll miss it."

A sting of mistrust crosses Heidi's mind as Angela reaches for the cord. Her eyes narrow for just a moment in questioning curiosity, before the reason behind Angela's action becomes clear.

Last time she was in the hospital like this, her back was broken. There was anger… And she can feel it again. She doesn't care, though, because she's honestly been stupid. This isn't just her fault for being so damned trusting - it's Nathan's, for being too weak to really do anything about it. It's Peter's, for not being available. It's the dogs' for not attacking Logan when he came home covered in blood. Angela's. Her parents'. Everyone.

When Nathan is mentioned, Heidi looks away from Angela, shaking her head. It's not Nathan. Her fingers twitch as she tries to lift her arm, but— So tired. And, really, the morphine is just making that worse now.

Angela lays a hand on Heidi's upper arm, the one that attempts to move and fails; another hand goes for the woman's fingers, curling over them. "Rest while you can," she tells her, as if this moment of being broken should be a blessing. Or… maybe she's simply concerned for Heidi's well-being. She shouldn't jostle her injuries too much, after all, they're fresh. The faintly smiling face of Heidi's mother-in-law looks down upon her. There seems to be more on the tip of Angela's tongue, but the words never come. "I can't stay." One more squeeze and she steps back abruptly and is back at the door in no time. Adjusting her scarf over her shoulder, she looks back at Heidi — then departs.

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