Who: Anakin Skywalker, Peter Petrelli, and Charlie Andrews What: Requesting a housecall Where: Phone conversation Rating: pretty G Status: log ; complete
The phone was ringing as Charlie passed through the lobby. At a glance, she didn't see anyone at the desk, so she shrugged, swallowing down the bite of apple in her mouth, and answered the line, reading off the saluation from the slip of paper that was attached to the telephone. "Angel Investigations, we help the helpless!"
There was a moment of silence, but before Charlie could ask if someone was on the line, a steady voice spoke. "I would like to speak with Peter Evans, please."
With a quick glance, Charlie could make out Peter's figure through the window to the office. "Right-o!" She started to reach down to put the phone on hold, and reconsidered. "Oh! Can I ask who's calling?"
Another pause, this one slightly longer. "My name is Anakin Skywalker."
You didn't need a perfect memory to know who that was. Charlie felt her jaw drop, spluttered for half a second, then said, cheerily, "Hold on, please!" before placing the call on hold and staring the receiver. Then she shook her head and went to the office, knocking lightly at the door before pushing it open. "Um, Peter? There's a call for you. Line 2."
Peter glanced up as she opened the door, then frowned. There had been a flurry of calls directed towards him after the silence epidemic had ended, no doubt as a result of his brush with the media. But the calls had slowed a bit after he'd refused to respond to them. "Who is it?" he asked.
Charlie licked at her lips. "Anakin Skywalker."
Peter raised his eyebrows. "Seriously? Asking for me?" Charlie nodded, and Peter glanced at the phone. The light for line 2 was blinking. The empath took a breath and lifted the receiver. "This is Peter."
Anakin eased a bit, tension loosening in his shoulders. "Mister Evans," he said. "This is Anakin Skywalker. We met, briefly. You assisted my children."
Furrowing his brow, Peter nodded, answering softly, "I remember, sir. It was my pleasure. Please, call me Peter. Luke has become... like a brother to me."
The Jedi bit back against the knot that formed in his throat, knowing that this man, practically a stranger, felt such a level of kinship to his son that Anakin had not yet had the opportunity to forge. But the bitterness needed to be placed aside. He wanted Evans' help, and knowing this about the man was encouraging in that respect. "I'm glad to hear that," he said. "You are a powerful healer, Peter. I have need of someone with medical knowledge, as well as healing skill."
Immediately concerned, Peter asked, "Is someone hurt? I'm a licensed nurse - well, I was, anyway - not just a healer. If that helps."
"No one is hurt," Anakin assured him. "And your credentials are more than adequate. Peter, I would like to ask you to tend to my wife. She is currently with child, and there is no medic in this city whom I would trust to ensure her health, save you."
Silence.
Anakin frowned. When the silence continued, he began to speak again, somewhat disappointed. "If you are unavailable to--"
"Wait, wait," came Peter's voice. "Just hand on. You're asking me to tend to your wife's pregnancy?"
"Well, yes. If you are available."
"Oh, hell yes, I am!" Peter blinked at his exclaimation, and softened his tone. "I mean, of course. I'm honored."
Grateful he was on the other end of a phone line, Peter flushed, remembering the brief stop he and Willow had made to the balcony outside of the Skywalker penthouse. "Yes, sir."
"Just Anakin, please. I shall see you tomorrow, then."
After hanging up the phone, Peter stared at it for a few moments, before breaking into sudden, elated laughter.