2007-11-25: Saving The World Through Get Togethers


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Summary: Monica corners Peter for a talk about ways to help save the world. The best idea he's got is to form a support group of sorts to help people understand the fundamentals… that they're not alone. And Ian and Monica make strides toward hooking up!

Date It Happened: November 25th, 2007

Saving The World Through Get Togethers

Monica's House

The early evening hours. The sun's set, making the air of the city cool and crisp, especially in this late autumn. Peter's wearing a long coat, with a scarf around his neck, when he approaches the Dawson-Sanders house and knocks firmly on the front door.

So Ian arrived unexpectedly, and that's okay. Monica has him situated in the living room. "Remember that guy I told you was at the center of everything?" she says, as the door is knocked on. "This is who I was talking about." She heads for the door, peeks through the spyhole and opens up. "Hey, Peter. C'mon in. How's Elena doing?"

Ian is indeed in the living room. "I know Peter," Ian says, clearly startled. "'Lena's boy," There, Pete. You been promoted.

And the door opens to the Center of Everything— or Elena's boy… who is older than then by quite a bit. Whichever works. Peter smiles faintly, a tick of the corner of his mouth, really, as the door opens and he sees the young woman whom he met in this house soon after he returned from the future. He looks healthy and awake, a little less gloom and doom than when Ian last saw him. Even his jaw is looser, rather than clenched tight. "Monica, nice to— Ian. Hey," he blinks in surprise, stepping inside and beginning to remove the scarf from around his neck, as well as his coat. "Elena's doing a little better actually. She called me a short time ago— not one hundred percent, but better."

"S'good to hear. Can I get you something to drink? I was gonna ask you something kinda private like, but this pertains to Ian too." Monica plays hostess quite nicely. There's even a bowl of chips and dip on the coffee table. Hey, it's an attempt, however eccentric, given the topic she intends to discuss.

Ian can't help but grin at that. "You and your good manners," he says, shaking his head. And then he nods to Pete, rising from his seat. "Good. You didn't get sick with it, or did you?"

"I'll take a water, thank you," Peter says, equally polite as he hangs his coat up and moves as if to join. The chips and dip set catches a glance, and he moves in that direction, finding himself a seat. It's Ian's question that removes his smile, making him more serious. "I was sick. I got better before the others. But the cure's getting pretty close, I think." Eyes shift to Monica, "What did you want to ask me about?"
Monica retreats momentarily to grab a bottle of water from the fridge and offer it to Peter; she sort of expects Ian to get his own, since he comes over often enough. "I want to know why we're all here." she says. "Which isn't exactly the question I was going to ask you, but in conjunction with that, don't you think we're all here for a reason?" A pause. "That made less sense, didn't it."

Monica retreats momentarily to grab a bottle of water from the fridge and offer it to Peter; she sort of expects Ian to get his own, since he comes over often enough. "I want to know why we're all here." she says. "Which isn't exactly the question I was going to ask you, but in conjunction with that, don't you think we're all here for a reason?" A pause. "That made less sense, didn't it."

Ian is a big ol' leech like that. He tends to bring offerings of chocolate, though. "You mean the big meta reason?" Ian suggests, glancing between them. Peter's recovery is clearly encouraging - he grins at that.

"No, no, I understand," Peter says, the water bottle opened as he sits back in the chair, looking between the two. "When I first realized my abilities— it was a little a year ago. Before that I didn't really know what I was supposed to be doing with my life. And then all of a sudden I had this… power. And I think that I have it to help people. To help the world. And I think that's the same reason a lot of you have it, the ones who decide to use it to help, at least. I guess the two of you know about each other?"

Monica nods. "There are others." She puts a hand to her forehead. "Oh my lord, I had no idea how many others. I wanna know what you're gonna do about it, Peter. 'Cause everywhere I look? I see connections that go back to you, it seems. I don't want to just sit here, with this, with what I can do. I know you don't. I won't speak for Ian."

The Californian's brow is furrowed. Aw, look, he's trying to think, isn't it cute? "Help? I mean, I'm all for doing what I can, and bein' a part time supehero, but…what about those of us with destructive powers?"

"I wouldn't say super hero. I'm not talking tights or cape or anything— but we can do a lot of good," Peter says, glancing between them. He hasn't taken a drink yet, but his eyes settle on Ian. "There's a few very dangerous abilities out there…" There's a pause, hesitation. "One of the abilities I have essentially makes me a walking nuclear warhead." Or flying. Or walking through walls, whichever way someone wants to parse it. "A year ago— I almost blew up New York because of it. I was trying to stop the bomb from going of, and turned out the bomb was me. But New York didn't get blown up, obviously— thanks to people like us."

Another pause, and this time he looks back at Monica. "We can help people in normal ways— especially you. Your ability would make it pretty easy to just help people. But the rest of us— what we can do to help is do things to stop major incidents— people with abilities, destructive ones, who don't attempt to control themselves."

"Wait, so like…you two are a Big Mac, and I'm a Happy Meal?" Monica's brow goes up, and a hand goes to her side. Uh oh. "This would be easier on all of us if we worked together, don't you think?"

Ian would like to try and be cool. Be nonchalant about this. But Peter's little revelation has him taking an inadvertant pace back at that comment. Like it'd help if he decided to unleash the Cerenkov radiation, right? "What the….I gotta hear this story," he says. "And we'd be policing our own kind? Mutant kind, whatever. Like the X-men."

Something about the way it's said makes Peter blink and sit up a bit. "I didn't mean that, Monica. I just meant you can help people in public more than the rest of us. It's hard for us to do things in public without someone noticing that we're… different. And there's dangerous people out there who wouldn't like anyone to know what we can do. And honestly I can say the future is better off if they don't know what we can do." At least one future would have been better off without that.

But it was Ian that really startled him, frowning. "Maybe. But— I don't think we'd be able to do that on our own…" There's a pause, a set to his jaw. "I'm more thinking that we could… teach them. The ones who actually want to control themselves, but can't."

"The point is," Monica says, "There's a lot of us. And if we were organized, or even just contacting each other, maybe we could…ya know. Do something about it. Make things better. Maybe help each other make the most of what we can do. There's one guy - he thinks what he can do isn't anything worth anything, and I think he's wrong."

"Honestly, I can barely control myself," Ian admits, and then looks startled at himself. More than he meant to admit, clearly. He goes red. " I mean, I'm not longer afraid of killing someone by accident, but….I get stressed, it slips. I'd be willing to ry and help, though," he says, staunchly.

"Oh I agree we should have a way to contact each other— but there's bigger…" Peter rubs a hand over his face. "We have to be careful. I do agree that we should be able to contact each other— that's why I gave your number, Ian, to this guy named Hiro Nakamura. If he calls you, that's where he got it. He's a good guy and he's going to be helping me with something. Until I know more about it I'm not sure what the rest of you can do, though. Other than start exchanging numbers and getting together. I guess we could form a… support group or something."

"A support group." Monica echoes, and then nods. "Yeah, that'd be - yeah." Maybe she did entertain fantasies of saving the world, and instead she's getting Hi-My-Name-Is tags. "I'm guessing you can't tell us about it?" Monica inquires. "Else you'd be more specific as offering to let us figure out how we might be able to help. But we could just first try all meeting. Maybe after Elena gets better so she can be there, too."

Ian makes a noise - stifled, almost hysterical giggles, that come out as ungenteel snorts. "Japanese, huh? You think he can help me?" hewonders, when he's got himself under control.

"A support group that occasionally tries to save the world, maybe," Peter says, catching some of the implication behind Monica's tone. "The support factor would be for like you, Ian— or this friend you mentioned. Having abilities can seem really lonely at first— and scary if they're dangerous— if they could hurt people." He looks at Ian quietly for a moment. "Sometimes just knowing there's others like you that go through the same thing is enough— and those of us who choose to go try to fight against bad things that going on…" He trails off.

"There's been a couple major incidents where the city could be destroyed. The bomb was one of them. The one that I tried to stop recently was a tornado. In the middle of the city. Not just one, either, a whole slew of them. Both of these were going to be caused by people like us who couldn't control themselves, who didn't understand their ability. We can do more, but that's important too."

Monica looks between the two. "Alright," she says at last. "I guess…first we need a meeting place. Someplace where people will feel safe to come. Either of you got suggestions? My house is small."

"I live in a -dorm-," Ian says. "Coffee shop? Bookstore? Library?" he suggests, pitching the ideas out there. Peter gets a perturbed look. 'You're right," he says, unhappily.

"That— I'm going to have to find somewhere," Peter says honestly. "I live in an apartment, but that's not much bigger than your dorm. And it's too cold for rooftops or outdoor meetings right now." He tries to think. "I know a few people I can ask. I'm sure we can find a comfortable place to meet— for those of us who want to show up. You have my number, Monica. You're free to give it to anyone you know of who's like us. And I know a couple people I can contact too."

Monica considers a moment. "I know someone who might be able to give us a space. I'll talk to him." She ducks her head a little bit - is she blushing? "Okay, Peter. I'll do that." She gives him a smile. "Thanks."
Ian's eyes round. 'Man. We are coming out of the woodwork, aren't we?" And then he grins, hugely. "It's gonna end up like Mutant Stonewall, isn't it?"

Wait, didn't Elena say that… Peter blinks at the blush, looks over at Ian for a moment, then back at Monica. "This someone isn't a boyfriend, right?" Then he realizes just how nosey that might be, "I— nevermind. That's none of my business." AHEM. "You're right— they do seem to be gathering here— now. Fate or destiny or some other thing seems to be bringing many of us here all at once."

"What? No!" Monica is immediately flustered. "I just - no." Awkward! Then, "Yeah, it just makes sense, you know? I'll see if I can talk to the others about a meeting. Face to face, all up front and stuff."

"Wait, me? No, I never - making out with Joe that once doesn't count," says Ian. And then shuts UP,

"You're gay?" Monica blurts out in dismay.

"Sorry," Peter apologizes to Monica, but then blinks over at Ian's words, obviously surprised by his addition to it. He opens his mouth, then looks at Monica, eyebrows raising. Um.

"NO!," says Ian. There's a wash of electricity up his arms at that, from hand to elbow and a little beyond. "I like girls. I had a girlfriend all through high school."

"Well then who the heck's Joe? And don't you burn my carpet, Ian David Jackson! I want my security deposit back!" …chides Monica.

"Ian, calm," Peter says, actually moving closer to the young man instead of away and reaching out for his arm, not minding the surge of electricity that slides up his arm. He's been shocked enough in his lifetime that this doesn't even bother him. Any damage heals away almost as soon as it's had time to settle. Better than the carpet.

Ian tries to clamp his hands around Peter's wrists. The downside of the power, though, is that it affects his nerves as well - and the grip is fluttery, spasmodic. "Joe was a friend of mine. Is a friend of mine. He is gay," Ian explains, jaw clenched - the flicker's crept up to his body, making his teeth chatter.

"So you kissed a gay boy, but you yourself are not gay." Monica twines a finger into her hair. "Were you trying to figure out if you were gay?" She looks at Peter gratefully. Scorch marks on the carpet would have made her really cranky.

Peter's actually looking at Ian with concern as his grip flutters, but he keeps holding on for a time. "You're okay, Ian. Really. It's fine." He's trying to be supportive. "You know what Monica can do, right? With the juggling in an instant thing?" It's pretty obvious he's trying to change the subject.

"No. I'm not gay. I was kinna drunk, and figured 'hey, he wants to, well, I'll try it and see'. But I wasn't into it, so no gay for me," Ian does not sound disappointed at all. The electricity begins to die away, with the embarassment. "Yeah. I've seen her do it."

Monica still looks a bit miffed and uncertain, but at least she quiets down about the gay thing. And here she thought Miki was! Only he wasn't. Men in New York are confusing. She looks to Peter. "You done anything else with it? I learned this wrestling move the other day that's pretty interesting."

"Can that be a come-on, because now I totally want to prove to you I'm not gay. You look so dubious," Ian says, desperately.
Only when the electricity dies down does Peter take his hand away. The skin has been burnt, but in front of them it heals away. He flexes his fingers a few times, and then looks between Ian and Monica and just absently adds in response, "Not yet, but I've been meaning to try it out sometime soon."

Monica grins a little bit. "You let me know when." she tells them. "A'ight, you two. Don't mean to keep you if you have places to go. Though you're both welcome to stay."

Ian looks to Peter. Looks to Monica. Looks back to Peter. "No, you're not, Petrelli," he says, with a funny little grin on his face. "I mean, thanks. But…shoo."

Oh, it doesn't take too much for Peter to figure out that he should be leaving. Moving away from Ian, he fetches his water bottle and puts the lid back on, apparently intending to take it with him. "I'll catch the two of you later." There's a hint of an unspoken 'good luck' in his eyes before he makes for his coat and scarf so that he can leave.

Monica arches a brow at Ian - shooing people out of her house! - and offers Peter a final smile before he leaves. Then, "Men." A shrug of her shoulders, and she heads for the living room.

Ian follows after her. Not until he's given Pete a thumbs up over his shoulder, though.

As Peter pulls his coat on, and winds his scarf, he catches sight of the thumbs up and smiles, faintly, before he shows himself out the door.

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