§ sarah, storms are brewin' in her eyes. (nopoweroverme) wrote in parabolical, @ 2009-08-21 01:39:00 |
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After disappearing from the Hyperion apartment and reappearing in the middle of the castle to find no one, Sarah left – by foot, rather than honing in on Peter and appearing right next to him – to find her husband, the new routine of the last few weeks since Peter had been released from his position as Champion. Released from being the Champion. The words still sparked disbelief in Sarah, even as much as she'd come to understand what it meant. It was a reward, that much had been stated by the Powers That Be, but Sarah knew he still saw it as a mark of personal failure. Nothing she said had been able to change that, and as of yet, Peter's anger still hadn't burnt out. It was a silent, pervasive feeling she could sense all the time, courtesy of her magical mistake with his crest ring, one that grew stronger the closer she came to where he was. Peter stared at the beings before him, barely feeling the temperature around him drop, but fully conscious of the feeling of anger and betrayal welling. They were 'releasing' him, throwing away the commitment he had made to this city, and speaking as though he should be grateful for the choice. No, it wasn't a choice, it was an order. Accept it or not, it was happening. "You misunderstand." "The burden is no longer yours." "Redemption has been achieved." Memories, as real as reality while they replayed in his mind. With the pressure Peter was exerting on the window ledge, the stone itself would normally be shattered into pieces, but his strength was being tested and outdone by the magic that penetrated every bit of the castle and the lands around it, the very world itself. The walls were systematically icing and melting around him for the same reason. He reveled in that feeling right now with his anger once more so cold, which was why he was in a lesser-used part of the castle where he knew Sarah hadn't tempered the magic in the space. This, the raw, undiluted magic, was strangely soothing to him, for it was the reinforcement that in this world, something – someone – was stronger than him and could prevent him from another catastrophe. More than that, it was the comfort of a concession of power that he willingly, gladly gave in choosing to be here, rather than the anger of that which he hadn't given up willingly. Like being Champion. The PTB could say his time as their Chosen had redeemed the cost of those lives lost in New York, but his sense of responsibility would never let him forget that a lack of control had been what cost those people their lives. And being the Champion hadn't just been a job for him, it was a way of life that had become a part of his identity, and now he was faced with reshaping that identity without that crucial element. It was what had lead to other seemingly drastic choices, ones meant to give him the willpower he continued to believe he didn't have, such as measures to keep from running back and continuing the job in the next disaster, title or no. He needed the distance from L.A. right now, even if it was the last thing he wanted, even if no one could truly understand why he couldn't just step down and go on, why he couldn't go from carrying the burden of a whole city on his shoulders to being no more responsible for the city than the next person. It wasn't just about losing authority. He could learn to take orders again, just as he'd worked with a team all this time. It was that he needed time until he could step foot back inside that city and not be distracted by his anger, until he could go back and be just another soldier in war that good and evil fought, until he could go back and not hear every voice that cried out or thought in fear in the night and feel each and every last one of them was his personal responsibility. And most of all, he needed distance until he could redefine who Peter Petrelli now was. Taking a breath in, he let it out slowly, and then sent a thought back behind him. Wife. As always, the proud possessiveness that came with the word carried over in the mental 'voice'. He didn't need the way the very stones seemed to hum with the presence of the Queen inside the castle walls to tell him his wife was in the castle, nor did he need telepathic senses to know she was behind him. He just knew, because she was part of him. Relaxing slightly as she felt Peter's emotional state change from one of sole anger to that anger blunted by that familiar, loved mixture of emotions she always seemed to draw from him, Sarah crossed the space between them and rested her chin on his shoulder, looking out over the Labyrinth. It wasn't lost on her why he was here, something she never would be entirely comfortable with because she had never wanted to have that kind of power over anyone, especially him. She had become more comfortable with what being in the Underground meant, and tried at every opportunity to turn that power into things others could like or enjoy, but ignore or not, the potential was still there. Maybe that was why, for her, L.A. continued to be a blessing because there, she couldn't constantly tap into the full weight of her capabilities. She still barely understood what she was capable of, was still a novice at doing some of the things Jareth had done so effortless. But even a novice could accidentally wield abilities as yet unknown, as she could do here, in this place. A place where Peter was, for all intents and purposes, he was trapped. Willingly. Because he'd asked, then pleaded that she do so. He didn't believe he was strong enough to keep from running back too soon; she believed he was. But his distress had motivated her and though it had knotted her stomach, she had locked him away from every portal in the Underground, so he would be unable to go home on his own. The cold anger turned hot, which was both blessing and curse, as Peter attempted to wrap his mind around what was being offered as a 'gift' to him, the one these Oracles, the form of the Power That Be, said would always be Chosen, just not Champion. What was this, Narnia? Once a Chosen of the PTB, always a Chosen of the PTB? They could very well take their gift and kiss his ass. He stared at them, which they seemed to take as a need to elaborate, for they spoke again in that shared-brain way of theirs. "You have the choice. "To return to the moment you were taken from." "Or to stay in this dimension." "Or to choose anew from among limitless other dimensions." Peter turned away from the window with the new spike of anger, a sharp half a rotation to grab Sarah and pull her close. Even now, even always, he took care that the ferocity of his emotions didn't translate into the superhuman strength and break her. He breathed her in like something as necessary as the oxygen that carried her scent, schooling himself to relax, even as he acknowledged she was holding on to him with every bit of her strength. "Sarah." Her name spoken was a quiet exultation, one in sharp contrast to his turmoil. To think they'd had the audacity to offer him the choice to return to his own time and place. All that time spent as their precious Champion and they had never understood one thing about him. But then, he'd had little respect for them by the end, after so many losses and frustrations, so perhaps the lack of understanding was no surprise. Reaching up, Sarah brushed back the length of hair hanging in his face, nudging his chin upward so she could get him to look at her. "Peter, this has to stop," she said, soft chastisement. She'd given him these few weeks to get past the anger stage, and he wasn't. And she knew why, because he was going over every little detail of that talk he'd had with the PTB, judging himself and them for every bit of it. "You're eating yourself alive from the inside out, going over and over what they said." "Because it doesn't make any fucking sense to me, Sarah!" He dropped his arms, intending to pace, but when she didn't let go, he simply sagged. "I gave them everything." He'd said it a hundred time out loud but the statement was no less relevant, no less painful. "I didn't want this job at first, I didn't think I was anything but Angel's placeholder until he got it together again, but eventually I did want it and I gave them everything. If they'd replaced me, then maybe it would have made sense, but they haven't, have they?" Sarah wouldn't claim to understand the PTB, because she didn't, but she could at least follow what they had been attempting to do here. Reward Peter, give him the gift of a free life and choices, for all that he had done. Where he saw it as a brush-off of all he had done, because he was lost and scared, they no doubt saw it as the best reward they could ever give anyone. "No, we're still doing everything the same." A.I., doing the role it had done all along, but without a Champion at the helm of the organization. "Even now-" "Now that what?" Peter stilled, but let her tell him, rather than skim it from the surface of her mind. "The Scourge," Sarah said, now tense as well, not just from the topic, but in bracing for his reaction to it. The last times they'd discussed it, his reaction had been poor, to put it politely. "It's not getting any better." She sighed softly. "Faith's gone completely on the offensive tactic now, rather than defense, which she should, but... it's not gone over very well." Sarah supported Faith, both in the job and their friendship, but the choices were a point of contention with others that weren't going away. Swearing, Peter did go to pace this time and Sarah let him. "I should be there," he said once he'd crossed the room and come back. "They'll need every person they can get. If I go back, I can find them and wipe them out." This wasn't the first time he'd done this. When she'd had to tell him Claire and Dean had been attacked, the small library's furniture had been reduced to ice dust from the blast of anger that froze the wood so thoroughly, and he'd talked about going back to see Claire, protective as always, but then talked himself out of it. When she'd updated him on what the Scourge were and the general sentiment being expressed about them, she'd had to reconstruct an outside wall from where he'd punched through it. He'd talked about what he would be doing if he were there, but he hadn't gone. There'd been other times in earlier weeks, but they'd all ended with him deciding no, because she could tell that for as strong as his need to protect was, the feelings that had sent him here to her kingdom were still stronger. But this was the first time she was going to tell him no, because this time, she could tell he meant it. It wasn't what was best for him. She knew that, even if she wanted him back home and their lives to return to what was 'normal' for them. He'd asked her to keep him here for a reason, and she had to be the one that remembered some of those reasons. If he went, he'd be unable to leave again, always one more person to save. There would be no transition, he'd fall right back into his old role, but without the authority, and no one could say if the PTB would eventually act on their own to give him a forced 'vacation' until he could accept this new, "unburdened" life. She wouldn't lose him. "No." Peter stopped, turned and stared at his wife with a sudden calm that wasn't at all peaceful. "No?" Meeting his gaze straight on, Sarah nodded. "You heard me, Peter. I said no." She moved forward. "This isn't a vacation. If you felt right about being there, you wouldn't be here. So, no, you're not going back. No one person is going to be able to get rid of the Scourge." After the still of a few moments, Peter backed down. "As you wish," he said, giving her a mockery of a bow. "You are the Queen." It stung. Logically Sarah knew it wasn't her that he was lashing out at, but instead the impotent rage that was building inside himself, yet it still stung. Her Peter was sweet and loving, sensitive and loyal, but she could never forget that her Peter could also be, as he always claimed he'd been when he arrived in L.A., an 'unforgivable bastard' because he had been hurt more than most could ever dream. "It wasn't a royal decree, but whatever helps you sleep at night," she said, moving to the window he'd formerly been at, gaze locking on a fountain down below. Peter regretted it the moment he'd done it, but even more so at the emotional flinch Sarah had done. She'd only said it for him, because he'd been so insistent he couldn't go back to L.A. right now. "Sarah, I'm sorry." He moved forward, but he didn't touch her - instead, he let her feel the feelings behind the words, so she knew they weren't simply empty ones. "You're right. I can't go. But I want to be back there." He sounded so lost with those last words, and Sarah knew he didn't even realize how much. She wanted to fix it, but only time would do that. "I know, sweetie, I do," she said, soft forgiveness for the moments-ago sarcasm as she slipped back into his arms. She would be with him, through the worst of this just as she was with him through the best of things. He was her husband, and even if no one else could truly understand his anger, his need to be away, his feelings and confusion, she would be the one to understand. "Let's go have lunch, I'm starving." "So then he goes "you'll be hearing from my lawyer" and pulls out this Wolfram & Hart business card, and Nathan, without even missing a beat, goes "when I called you a soulless bastard, I had no idea I was right" and the guy just stared at him for a solid two minutes." Sarah popped the rest of her strawberry in her mouth, chewed, swallowed, and continued, "and Nathan, seeing some advantage, goes on to explain in detail what 'customized' service means from them... and that's how Wolfram & Hart lost another client to Nathan Petrelli." She grinned as she watched Peter topple off the pile of pillows onto the floor, clutching his sides. It was good to see him laugh, it really was. When he could breathe again, Peter rolled back onto the pile of pillows and just lay there, looking up at the branches that wove together above their heads, making a natural tent. He loved the stories, but as much as they served to keep him connected, they also served to reinforce one very difficult thing. "I miss them." Nathan, who had become the literal voice in his head the last year. Peter had gotten so used to two minds that being here was a new level of alone. In a way, it was something he needed, to not be so mentally and emotionally linked to so many people, but he needed Nathan. He would always need Nathan. Nathan needed him too, because of the stupid belief that a person was made of those around them, so was it too selfish to be here and robbing his brother of that? Heidi, always so grounding, ready and willing to keep them all together, but strong in her own right. The nieces and nephews. He'd only known his nieces a short time, but felt as though he'd known them always. Claire with the dark hair, his platonic soul mate, the one who knew his past and private hell. He hadn't been there for her again as much as he should have in L.A. because of his 'job', and even though he knew Dean and his family had given her some of what she needed, she would still always be partially his to protect. Claire with the blonde hair, a reminder that not all timelines were his own, that somewhere, some version of himself hadn't failed to save the cheerleader and the world. They should be closer, and someday soon he'd find a way to rectify that. And Simon and Monty, the children he'd known from birth and in some ways grown up next to. Would they manifest powers before long, if they did at all? He should be there to teach them the way that no one had been there for him. His "adopted family" and friends who were still here, like Faith. When he went back - and it had to be when, not if - would they still have room for him in their lives? And everyone he'd been given, only to have them taken - Charlie, Lavender, Hiro, Gabe, even his mother, and so many more. Some, like Cordelia, had been returned, but different. He missed them all. Taking in a breath to chase of a sigh, Sarah found herself wishing the period of good humor could last longer. "They miss you. But we all want what's best for you." "But is this what's best for me, Sarah?" Peter rolled onto his side, looking up at the woman next to him. "I have a life there. But I'm here trying to figure it out instead of there." Doubt. It had been his plan, his choice, and he continued to doubt it when anger wasn't making him glad he wasn't there. "And you know why," Sarah said with a patience that she didn't put thought to and would probably deny was there. "You... I know being Champion is a part of you, and you have to find a way to rearrange all the parts of you to fill a part of that huge gap." She reached out to brush his hair back from his fair. "Could you really do that when you couldn't bring yourself to block out the sounds of the city right now?" Closing his eyes, Peter leaned into the touch, bringing his cheek to rest in her palm. He'd tried. He had really tried. It hadn't been until days after his chat with the PTB that he'd come here because severing his multi-powered tie with the city (telepathic, empathic, technopathic and so many more) and trying to ignore every distress had been slowly tearing him apart. He cared. He'd gone through five years of hell on earth and come to this city, certain he wouldn't find anything to care about, and he'd found a whole city to care about - to care too much about. There were times he'd had to face the truth that if he had to choose between being Champion and someone important to him, he might well have chose being Champion. He cared too much and that was why he couldn't be there right now. 'No, I couldn't.' It was hard for him to admit, and Sarah knew it because he didn't say it out loud. "And they understand that," she said. "Anyone who knows you, who knows how much of yourself you gave the entire time, how many ways you were tuned in to everyone in the city, knows you need this break. We'll wait as long as we have to." Peter laughed bitterly. "Unless they send you all back." Oh. Oh. Suddenly understanding, Sarah moved until she was practically nose to nose with him. "Listen to me." This time her tone was fierce, her expression equally so, because she needed him to understand. "Even as Champion, you didn't have the power to make those promises you made. You could move through time, slip into another dimension, do a hundred other things to try to get people back, but you could never bend the PTB and SP to your will. You no longer being Champion hasn't changed anyone's chances for staying to being sent back." Peter kissed her nose, wanting to believe her. There plenty of people he'd promised, openly or silently, that they would never be sent back as long as he was Champion. But some of them had been sent away, and his disillusionment with the PTB had grown. It had made him more independent, more certain that he could do his job without 'bosses'. But even with that feeling, he'd still worried that without some control as Champion, he had no sway, and that if he wasn't Champion and some of them had been brought here to help him - they'd be sent back. Like Nathan. Like Claire. Like Sarah. 'My wife.' After blinking once, Sarah snorted. She still, so far as she knew, was no telepath, but much how the crest ring she'd given him allowed his strong emotions from a distance, or milder emotions from close quarters, to be sent back to her, sometimes she caught a few thoughts that weren't a projection or a mental link. Sometimes she couldn't put them in context, but that stray thought combined with the fiercer one told her clearly what was on his mind. "If that isn't completely egocentric, Peter Petrelli, I don't know what is," she said, poking him. It was a teasing reprimand, but there was also seriousness there. If he had to learn to let go of responsibility for the city, then he had to learn to let go of these responsibilities he'd put on himself too. "We're not here just for you. We're here for all the things we do, for all the friends we've made, for all the people we love or came to love. We have many, many reasons to be here besides one piece of you that you don't have anymore." And if they took those closest away from them, Sarah would find them herself. Abashed, Peter conceded the point this time. It wasn't that he was trying to be self-centered, it was that he genuinely worried about this, but she was right. "How did you get so smart, wife?" Laughing, Sarah shook her head. It wasn't brains, just sense mixed with a healthy dose of hope to cover the chance that she might well be wrong. "It's a good act," she said, then pushed him back against the pillows with distraction in mind. There would be time for more of these talks later. "I could stay longer," Sarah said softly as she rested her forehead against his. The time always went too quickly, even with her ability to move it as fast or as slow in relation to L.A. time as she wanted. She knew there were things she was needed for at home, but a part of her stayed right here with him, incomplete. These last few weeks had been, in some ways, a strain on their marriage. If she were honest, that strain had been there before now, in these recent months when Peter's focus on his duty to the city had made him so very scarce. She'd known the man she was marrying, had known that as long as L.A. was his primary responsibility, he would give it every part of himself that he could, and she'd accepted it. She just hadn't been happy about it in the last few months when the most common thing out of her mouth was "Peter's not here, he's out on another patrol". They'd grown together in L.A., learning to be a team in both A.I. and life, and that excess of responsibility, and now this separation in the wake of it being ripped away, was testing all of that. But she couldn't just give up her responsibilities in L.A., though she would if it ever became necessary, and she knew he didn't want her to do that. But these weeks weren't the end of this, which meant the strain would continue. For now, she knew that Peter needed to repair himself before he could repair anything else. For now it had to be enough. "Go home, Sarah." He knew her thoughts, he sensed her feelings, and he was helpless to make it instantly better. Her understanding, her willingness to let him find his way before anything else was addressed, somehow made him feel just that much more guilty. Selfishly, he wanted to keep her there with him but he knew her. She thrived surrounded by family and friends, doing the hundred different things she balanced on her plate, and he wouldn't see her wilt because she had holed up in the Underground with him. Home. L.A. was still home to her, and Sarah hoped it would be his home again, once he was ready. But her real home would always be in his arms. She kissed him, slow but thorough, and then let go of him. "I love you and I'll see you soon." "I love you," he said, leaning in to kiss her again, pulling back just enough that he didn't go with her as she vanished. Soon wouldn't be soon enough. |