Angela Petrelli (mamapetrelli) wrote in parabolical, @ 2008-06-15 01:22:00 |
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Entry tags: | angela petrelli, peter petrelli (future) |
WHO: Angela & Peter Petrelli
WHAT: Angela hasn't been eating. Peter brings her dinner.
WHERE: The Hyperion Hotel
WHEN: BACKDATED; June 12th
RATING: PG
STATUS: Complete
He hadn't wanted to do this. He really hadn't. But there was a line between a son angry with his mother, and a son who let his mother starve herself, and it wasn't one that Peter was willing to cross. He put together two plates from dinner, silently thanking the wonderful person who had made lasagna, and headed up the stairs to his mother's room. One plate dangled in the air on its own for a moment as he knocked at the door, before he plucked it back out, waiting to see if she would open it.
Angela hadn't left her room since her argument with Nathan. She had barely budged from her bed, only to get the occasional glass of water from the sink in the bathroom. Even the hunger pains that she had been feeling next to constantly now hadn't been enough to motivate her to leave the room. She had felt a little encouraged when Monty and Simon had slipped into her room to check on her, giving her quiet hugs (or at least, as quiet as Monty could manage to be) and saying that they hoped that she felt better soon. Knowing that at least one part of her family still loved her was enough to make her...well, not want to curl up and die, but there was still something holding her back from venturing out of her room and risking another explosion.
The knock on the door, however, was enough to perk her attention from where she was curled up in her bed. Pushing herself up, Angela crossed the room and pulled the door open. Surprise crossed Angela's expression as she blinked at Peter, "Yes?"
"Hi, Mom."
Peter held up the plates. The lasagna was still warm, and the scent of it was utterly intoxicating. He'd cut thickly, not sure how hungry his mother would be, but wanting to make sure she had enough to satisfy. But first he had to make sure the offering would be welcome.
"I come bearing food?" he said, a hopeful smile on his lips.
He was smiling. That was...something, at least, even if she wasn't sure whether it was sincere or not. What was she thinking? This was Peter. Of course it was sincere. She mentally chastised herself as she stepped back to let her son in, offering him a shaky smile in return. It was taking a lot for her to ignore the hunger pains now. With the scent of food so close at hand, Angela could feel her stomach starting to churn and grumble.
Peter looked down at her stomach as he stepped inside, then glanced back to her face. "Looks like I came just in time," he said. "Sounds like something's about to start revolting."
He gestured with his chin, and the coffee table slid closer to the edge of the bed. Then he leaned closer to her, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek, and walked over to the table to set down the plates. "I know how much you like lasagna, and this is almost as good as the stuff Frannie used to make, back when she worked for us that summer I started middle school. You always said no one could make lasagna like Fran, but I think this one came pretty close to the mark."
Angela wasn't quite sure how to react, but she was grateful, so very grateful, that Peter had had the presence of mind to...well, remember she was here for one and recall something so...so small that Angela herself was sure that she had forgotten it right up until she'd heard the words leave his lips. The worry that had been surrounding her subsided a bit as she offered him a smile back.
"It's hard to get it to be quiet after awhile," Angela said before lowering her voice. "But I didn't want to risk coming downstairs and end up...making more of a mess of things."
Peter glanced back at her, giving a soft sigh. "Mom, I know I was upset. But that's nothing compared to how upset I'd be if something happened to you. Especially if it was something you did to yourself for as silly a reason as that."
He set the plates down, with the accompanying silverware, on the table and set at the edge of the bed. "There's... plenty of things that you don't know. About me. About... the things that have happened, both here, and where I came from." One of his hands rubbed absently at the scar marring his face. "And it's not fair to you. So... I guess I'm really asking if we can try again."
"You're not the only one that was upset," Angela said as she stepped over to Peter, a very soft smile on her face as she raised a hand to touch Peter's cheek. Scar or not, five years or not, he was still her son. He was a piece of her heart that she wouldn't be completely whole without. He was right. There was a lot she didn't know, and even the skeletal outline that Nathan had provided her with wasn't enough for her to truly used what Peter had suffered, what she had...
Angela shook off the last thought before it was able to complete itself as she leaned forward and pressed a light kiss to Peter's forehead, "I love you, Peter," She said as she looked at him. "And I want to make this work."
"I know," he said. He'd closed his eyes at the light kiss, but now opened them, squeezing one of her hands in his. "We both need to try." And then he led her hand to the plate. "But first, you have to eat something. Because I can feel how hungry you are, and it's making me hungry."
He nodded towards the plate, with a light smirk. "Don't worry. I'm not gonna try and run out of here the moment your mouth is full." He just wanted her to get some of it down before he started telling her about things that made her lose her appetite.
Angela smiled at Peter as she slipped down onto the bed, patting the spot next to her for Peter, "Well, then, we can both enjoy it properly, then," Angela said, grinning up at Peter. "Since a meal that smells this good is one that should be eaten only when one can truly appreciate it," She said as she picked up her set of silverware and started eating.
Peter was right, really. If she'd kept this up, she would have ended up doing major damage to herself. She wasn't a healer. She didn't have a system that was built to keep her alive no matter what.
Pleased that she had started eating, Peter picked up a fork and joined in. "You like it?" he asked. "I think Giselle made it. She's a really good cook."
Neutral topics for now. Slow and steady.
Angela smiled as she nodded, finishing the bite that she had taken before looking over at Peter, "I think your assessment was right," She said. It was probably the best she had had since before Frannie had left them for a job in an upscale restaurant in the trendy area of New York's meat packing district. "At least I know that you won't starve here," She said, reaching out and giving his hair a bit of a ruffle. "I doubt you ever did figure out how to get over that...burning water habit that you and Nathan both have."
"Nathan burned the tea-pots, Mom. I just helped him bury the evidence." He shook his head, letting his hair settle down to how it had been a moment before she'd riled it up. "Besides, we can't be so naturally talented at everything, can we?"
He took another bite, waiting to swallow it before he added, "And as far as I know, there's no genetic ability to enhance cooking."
Angela just grinned, a playful yet knowing smile on her face at Peter's last statement, "As far as you know, yes."
Peter squinted at her. "I know there are abilities that can enhance your skills. But I haven't run across any so far that are soley aimed at culinary expertise. And I'd be surprised to know I haven't run across them all."
"Solely, no," Angela said, smiling over at Peter as she reached out and gave him a bit of a hug. "But you'd be surprised how eclectic these things can be sometimes. Even if you do..." She paused, studying him for a moment before asking quietly. "How many have you come across?"
Peter took another bite of his lasagna, giving her plate a pointed look that clearly indicated that she would have to eat another bite if she wanted an answer to that question.
Angela wrinkled her nose at Peter but she turned back to her plate and took a few more bites, a slight smile on her face as she glanced sidelong at him. Since when had they switched places? She was supposed to be the one taking care of him, not the other way around.
He was satisfied after the first bite, but waited until she had taken a few more before he finally nodded, letting out a sigh and preparing to shove another bite into his mouth as soon as he'd answered.
"Five hundred and forty."
And then concentrated on lasagna.
Five hundred and forty. Five hundred and forty. A soft sympathy soaked into her as she looked over at her son. She had known... She had known that it would get bad, dangerous, overwhelming, as soon as she had realized what Peter could do. But she had never imagined... Five hundred and forty. Good God.
"I'm sorry," Angela said softly.
"It's not your fault," he said, his own voice just as soft. "It's just... how I am. And its been a long five years."
Angela shook her head with a soft sigh, "No. I'm sorry that I didn't explain what was happening the second that I realized it was," She said, looking over at Peter. "I should have. I should have explained it to both of you instead of...pretending like everything was all right."
Peter exhaled slowly, setting down his fork and turning towards her, taking one of her hands in his. "Listen for a moment. I need to get this out before I clam up again." He shut his eyes, taking another breath to steady himself.
"We knew it was coming. Isaac's paintings. My dreams. Hiro's jump into the future. It was just the question of who, and how to stop it. I don't know where things went wrong; I don't know what happened in your timeline that made Nathan fly after me, when he didn't for mine. I just know that for me, I destroyed New York City on November 8th, 2006. By the time I really came to enough to know what was going on, the death toll had reached five million. And then I found on, pretty much on the heels of that, that not only had Nathan blamed someone else for the explosion, but that you and him had both known what was going to happen, and hadn't done anything to stop me."
He dropped his head, ashamed now at the memory. "I was so hurt, and so angry. I said some things that I could never take back, and I left. I didn't see either of you again. Not until now, here. It's been five years for me. I don't want to lose you - either of you - again."
"Claire," Angela said softly after a moment of silence. "Claire is what made him leave," She said, turning her attention back to her meal for a moment for letting out a slow breath, closing her eyes. "She was so certain that things could be changed, that nothing was inevitable. Just as certain as I was that we couldn't do anything to stop it. When we were trying to leave... She put enough doubt into your brother's mind for him to decide that he had to try. He left me standing on my own the helicopter pad," she said softly, prodding lightly at the lasagna before sliding her eyes closed.
I thought I'd lost you both.
It was too hard to voice that, but it was a thought that she had had several times in the last few years.
"I don't want... I can't make any excuses for what I did, Peter," Angela said, looking over at him. "None that would hold water, at least. But...here, we don't have the Company to worry about. We don't have anyone threatening us or chasing us. And I don't... I don't want to ruin this second chance because we can't understand each other," She said, raising a hand to touch his cheek. "I don't know what you've been through, Peter. I can't... I can't even imagine," She said, tears starting to pool in the corners of her eyes. "But I'm going to be here for you now, like I should have always been."
Claire.
It made sense now. Save the cheerleader, save the world. Peter wondered if Hiro had known just why saving Claire would work.
Overhearing the thought in her mind, Peter squeezed her hand. "In my time, you did. Me, to anger and self-imposed exile. Nathan..." He throat tightened for a moment, but he pushed past it, the tension still detectable in his voice. "I don't know when it happened, but Nathan was killed. By Sylar. The same one who had tried to kill Claire all those years-- back in Odessa. The one who killed me. He made himself look like Nathan, stole his ability, and used Nathan's position to become President."
He sighed, looking towards the ground. "It was a dark place to live. At first, it was just emergency powers set up by the President, to detain any Evos. But the Linderman Act was passed in March of 2007, and all new regulations went up. We could be caught, incarcerated, or even killed if the Department of Homeland Security thought we were enough of a risk. Some were taken to be used as test subjects. We had no rights. None. I spent five years being hunted, like some kind of animal."
Angela set her silverware down, leaning over and curling her arms lightly around Peter, pulling her toward him. It sounded far too much like what Ishi had been afraid would happen if they allowed themselves to be known. "Mutant Control Act," Angela said quietly. Odd, really, for Angela Petrelli to make a comic book reference. She had always been of the opinion that Peter had spent far, far too much time with his head buried in those things. Pulling back to look at Peter, Angela sighed softly, shaking her head slowly, "If I had known that it would end that way, Peter, I would have done everything I could have to keep it from happening. I'm sorry. I'm sorry that you have to go through that."
Peter leaned against her, shutting his eyes for a moment, to savor the moment. He wasn't sure if he completely believed her, but right now, it was easy to pretend. Peter wrapped an arm around her, his own meal forgotten.
"Can't change the past." He laughed a moment later, realizing his words. "Or maybe you can, if you're Hiro Nakamura. But it doesn't erase the memories." The smile faded a bit. "I'm doing good here, Mom. It's a dangerous place, but... I know I can help, here. I can do the things I was meant to do."
"I love you, Peter," Angela said softly, pressing a kiss to his forehead as she held him. "And you're doing a world of good here. I'm impressed with what you've accomplished. I know... I'm probably not the most popular person in this place, what with the things that have happened since I got here, but I want to be here for you."
Peter nodded. He started to speak, but something shifted in his pocket, and a soft, squeaking honk issued out. "Someone's awake," Peter muttered, reaching into the pocket and drawing out the tiny duckling. Kat stretched out her neck at seeing him, and Peter brought her close to his face, gently nuzzling at her while she rubbed her neck against his chin. After a moment or two, once his nostrils were filled with eau de duckling, she emitted another sound. Peter nodded, and reached into his other pocket, taking out a small box and setting it on his lap. Inside was a small portion of damn watercress, that he'd carefully cut into small pieces for her to eat. Kat plunged in with relish, eating happily while Peter stroked her back with one finger.
Angela was...surprised was an understatement. She wasn't really sure what that sound was at first, and when Peter produced the duckling from his pocket, all Angela could do was blink. She'd seen the announcement of the presence of a duckling in the hotel. It wasn't exactly a normal pet by any means, but Peter had never really been the definition of normal. Lifting an eyebrow slightly, Angela offered Peter a silently questioning gaze before glancing back down at the duckling.
He laughed gently at the expression on Angela's face. "This is Kat," he said. "She was a gift to me from my friends here. At least, they gave me an egg that she hatched from. So I'm taking care of her."
The duckling paused in her meal long enough to look up at Peter and make her little almost-quacking sound. "Sorry," Peter said in apology. "Kat, this is my mom. Your grandma. And mom, this is Kat. Her full name is Katara, after a good friend of mine. But I always called her Kat."
Her mind was stating the obvious 'It's a duck' while she was trying not to look too surprised or confused by his response to the...quack. "Please don't tell me you've decided to replace Dr. Doolittle," She said, lifting an eyebrow at him. "Though, I can say it's not the first time I've seen animal communication, but that was...twenty, twenty-five years ago."
Peter shrugged. "Wasn't really a decision on my part. I don't get to pick and choose what I get." He continued running his thumb over Kat's back, as the ducking turned her attention back on the food. "She's still young, so there's not a whole lot of context in there, but I try to communicate back with her the way I'd talk to an adult, so she learns faster."
Angela had to chuckle, "Spoken like a true parent."