genome_npc (genome_npc) wrote in genomeproject, @ 2008-03-20 14:41:00 |
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Entry tags: | adam monroe, npc: monty petrelli, thread |
Questions & Curiosities [OT: Adam]
Monty wasn't quite sure what his brother was working through, but he had been silent and supportive through all of the sessions, listening intently to the things that Adam was telling Simon, trying his best not to fidget too much when he got bored, and hugging Simon and telling him things were going to be just fine whenever whatever it was got too hard or too intense for him to deal with on his own. One of these sessions had just finished, and Monty had sat obediently on the sofa in the sitting room, swinging his legs off the edge, a thoughtful little frown plastered on his face as a million thoughts rushed through his head before all settling into one large determined one as he pushed himself off onto the floor and headed upstairs.
Adam always put Simon to bed after the sessions. His older brother was always exhausted for some reason that Monty didn't quite understand and that he was determined that he wasn't going to not understand for much longer.
Adam was just coming out of the bedroom when Monty reached the top of the stairs. He closed the door quietly behind him and smiled at Monty.
"Thank you for being so patient. Your being there really does help him."
"Help him with what?" Monty asked, looking up at Adam with sincere confusion in his eyes.
Sure, everyone had been doing their best to explain what was going on, what was different or special about their family, but there was a lot that Monty still didn't quite comprehend. Like what was happening to Simon. As far as Monty can tell, there wasn't anything different about him except that he said weird things and felt sick a lot more now.
Adam paused for a moment, looking thoughtful, and then said quietly, "come down to the den with me, and I'll explain as much as I can, all right? You can ask me anything you like, and I'll do my best to answer."
Monty nodded, reaching up and taking Adam's hand as he started back down the stairs with him, "Everyone's tried to explain," He said softly. "I still don't really get it."
"It's rather complicated," Adam admitted. "But I've had a great deal more practice explaining than they have. We'll see if I can't make it a bit clearer."
"Okay," Monty said, smiling lightly as they reached the den and Monty tugged Adam over to the couch, dropping the other man's hand as he hefted himself up. Once he reached a comfortable position, he tilted his head and looked up at Adam, "Everyone keeps saying we're special. But I don't see what's so special about us now that wasn't there before. Or how we're so special compared to everyone else. It seems like a really silly thing to say about someone, that they're special. And if being special means that I say weird things and get itchy and cold and queasy like Simon, I think I'd rather not be special."
Monty finished what he was saying by slumping back against the couch. He'd clearly been holding that in a lot longer than he liked.
Adam sat down, trying to work out how to start explaining it.
"Well," he said slowly, "you know how sometimes people in the same family will have the same colour hair, or eyes? And how if you've got two parents with dark eyes, it's not very likely that their children will have blue eyes?"
Monty nodded slowly, wondering silently what this had to do with anything, but he was willing to go along with it. The adults were supposed to the ones that knew things, after all. "Mhm."
"That's genetics. Certain things are in our genes, like hair colour or eye colour. There's another gene that means the people with it can do things that not everyone can. I've got it, and in me, it means I heal very quickly. Your brother has it as well, and it's very likely that so do you. It shows up at different times for all of us. In your brother, the ability is something called synaesthetic empathy. It means that he can feel the emotions of people around him, with his other senses."
Monty blinked a few times, trying to take in everything that Adam was saying, filing it in separate categories. Genetics was a word that he could recall hearing before, but it was a long time ago so the occasion on which he'd heard it was fuzzy in his mind. But still, he was gaining a tenuous grasp on what was going on.
However, his reaction to the explanation was probably less than ideal.
"That's weird."
Adam chuckled softly. "Yes, I suppose it is. We don't get to choose what ability we have, after all; I doubt Simon would have chosen his. It's rather overwhelming, after all, and it's taking a lot of time for him to learn how to filter out everything he's sensing."
Monty furrowed his brow for a moment at Adam's last words, "Is that why you keep telling him to focus on me?"
"Yes. It's easier for him to cope with just one set of emotions, rather than everything," Adam explained. "And you're his brother, so it's easier for him to focus on your emotions and filter the rest of the world out. Think of it this way - you know there are radiowaves and cell phone signals and that sort of thing being beamed through the air all the time, don't you? Imagine how it would feel if you could hear all of those signals, all the time. I'm teaching Simon how to focus on one signal. Once he's learned that, it'll be easier for him to block everything out until he needs it."
Monty nodded slowly, a thoughtful frown still on his face as he shifted and leaned against Adam's side, "Is he going to be OK?" He asked, keeping his voice quiet. "He might be a stick in the mud sometimes, but he's still my brother. Only one I have. I don't know what I'd do without him."
"He's going to be fine," Adam assured him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "It's going to take some work, but he'll learn how to keep everything else at bay until he needs it. I'm going to help him, I promise. I've dealt with this sort of ability before."
Monty managed a soft smile up at Adam, snuggling against his side, "Thank you," He said before closing his eyes. "So. You can heal. Simon has...syna...sine...that empathy thing. Daddy can fly," His parents conversation the other day had pretty much cleared that one up for Monty. "And Uncle Peter can do lots of things. What about Mommy and Gran? If it's a...jean-etic thing...."
"Your mother might not have an ability, or she might have one that hasn't shown up yet," Adam said softly. "Sometimes only one parent has an ability, or sometimes it shows up late, like with your father. Your grandmother has an empathy-based ability, like Simon does. Sometimes it works out that way, but sometimes it's completely random. You might have something to do with empathy, or flight, or it could be something totally different."
"I'm not going to have to get stuck in a room with another weird creepy guy rambling about how children as great resources for it to show up though, right?" Monty asked, turning and hugging Adam, a ever so slight shiver running through his body at the thought at everything that had happened. Even if he hadn't been truly scared right up until the end, he didn't want to repeat that experience. Ever.
"No." Adam tightened his arms around Monty, stroking his hair. "No, that's not going to happen again. I promise. It's more likely that your ability will show up during adolescence; that's a common time for these things. For some of us it only shows up during a traumatic event, but for someone like you. the third generation with the gene, it should crop up fairly early."
"So. I'm just going to wake up one day and be able to do something or feel something that I've never been able to do or feel before?" Monty asked, frowning as he relaxed into the embrace. "Cause I really don't like the sound of that. It sounds dangerous."
"It can be," Adam admitted. "But your uncle and I will always be around to help you. And if it really becomes necessary, Peter can turn it down until you know how to control it better. We're trying to avoid that route with Simon, because there's the chance that it could get triggered again and it's best that he knows how to control it, but if there's no other option, he can do that."
"You might want to keep a close eye on him, too," Monty said, closing his eyes. "Simon can get obsessive if things start happening that he can't control. It's gotten better now, but it was really bad after we thought Uncle Peter was dead, Daddy started drinking, and Mommy and Daddy kept fighting."
"I'll make sure Peter and your parents know that," Adam said. "We'll make sure he's all right. That both of you are all right."
Monty smiled, "I'll be fine. I'm tougher than I look," He said, glancing up at Adam, a big grin crossing his face. "Especially for such a small fry."
"I've known some very tough people who weren't all that big," Adam told him, giving him a smile. "Size isn't all that important, I've found."
Monty grinned up at Adam before nodding, "I'm short for my age. Mommy says that it just means I'll have more room to grow when I get bigger."
"She's right, you know. I was about your height when I was your age, and I'm not exactly short now, am I?"
"Nope!" Monty said, grinning up at Adam. "Not short at all. And Aunt Dinah says that boys are usually as tall as their Daddies. And Daddy's no shrimp, either."
"Your father's very tall," Adam agreed.
"Grandma doesn't like him anymore," Monty said, his voice suddenly going very serious. "I don't think most of my aunts do, either."
"There's been a lot going on that your mother's family don't really understand," Adam said carefully. "Your father has been through a lot, and your mother did what was right for herself and for you, and that made a lot of things complicated. They're trying to fix things now, I think."
Monty nodded, a wide grin spreading across his face, "They're getting along like they used to. Which is good. Cause I missed home. And I missed Gran. And I missed Uncle Peter, too. Lots."
"It will take time for things to go back to the way they were," Adam warned him. "They've both been through a lot."
Monty nodded slowly, "I know," He said, even if he knew he didn't really know. "But they're trying. Which is better than the teacher telling Daddy that he can't see us and dragging us away."
"It is better," Adam agreed, squeezing his shoulders lightly. "And I think your mother has fixed things so your father can see you, even if they're not living together yet."
"Good. Cause I missed him," Monty said, leaning back against Adam. "Is there a reason we are how we are? I mean... Is there a why to the how or it is just because?"
"Some people say it's evolution. Humans gaining new abilities to further the race. Some people say it's God. I don't really know what I believe, myself," he admitted. "I know I believe that it's no more good or bad than anything else we're born with. It's the way we use it that makes it good or bad. Other than that, I'm afraid I don't know why we're the way we are."
Monty nodded slowly, taking in the words and staying silent as he turned them over in his mind. Perhaps it was best not to worry about something like that until he was a little older. "Thank you," He said finally. "I think I understand a bit better now."
"If you ever need me to explain anything else, I'll do my best," Adam promised. "I know it's all a lot to try to understand. You're doing better than I did."
Monty blinked a few times, looking up at Adam curiously, "Am I?"
Adam smiled a little. "You're not freaking out. That counts as a better reaction than mine."
Monty giggled a bit, "Well, I can't really blame you for freaking," Monty said, poking Adam. "I think I'd freak too if I hurt myself and it didn't stick."
"Especially when you consider the fact that I found out about it by being shot in the chest by three arrows," Adam pointed out. "Still, it turned out to be a very useful ability, in those circumstances."
"Arrows?" Monty asked, furrowing his brow in confusion, poking Adam again. "Who uses arrows anymore?"
"That was a long time ago. You see, a part of my healing ability means I don't really age the same anymore. So I'm a lot older than I look."
Monty blinked a bit, tilting his head at Adam, "You look about Uncle Peter's age. How old are you really?"
"Well, I was born in 1643," Adam said slowly. "So that would make me 364 this year."
Monty just stared for a long moment before a sudden and wide grin spread across his face as he gave Adam a playful shove, "Nuh-uh! How old really?"
Adam chuckled.
"I'm not joking, Monty. Just ask Hiro next time you see him."
"Why? Is he that old, too?" Monty asked, blinking, his eyes having gone a little wide at the truth of the number. "That's old. Even older than Gran. And she's ancient."
"No, but he met me back then. He can bend time and space," Adam explained, and then snickered. "And don't let your Gran hear you calling her ancient."
"But she is. She's like...50!" Monty said. "She's... She's... Almost ten me's!"
"That's as may be, but it's not polite to say so."
Monty shrugged a bit, "My teachers say that I'm the opposite of polite."
"Well, politeness is overrated sometimes, but I think you'll find it's best to be polite to your grandmother. She has quite a temper," Adam said fondly.
"Gran wouldn't get angry at me," Monty said, grinning up at Adam. "She loves me. And I love her. Which is why I don't tell her she's old to her face."
"You see, that's sensible. I couldn't get away with calling her old, either, especially since I'm a fair bit older."
"She would call you out on it," Monty said, grinning and nodding. "She knows how to speak her mind. Like Mommy."
"They're both very strong women," Adam agreed.
But then, you had to be, to be able to keep up with a Petrelli.
Monty nodded with a smile, "And not the frilly icky sort of girls."
Adam chuckled.
"No, definitely not."
Even back in the old days, Angie had never been a 'frilly icky' sort of girl.
"Those kind of girls are no fun. All they want to do is play with dolls and talk about hair and clothes," Monty said, picking at a loose thread on his shirt. "I bet Mommy and Gran were never like that."
"You're right, your grandmother was never like that. At least, not when I knew her."
Monty looked up at Adam curiously, the thread on his shirt momentarily forgotten, "What do you mean?"
"I met your grandmother a very long time ago," Adam told him. "Back when your father was still a child."
"Really?" Monty asked with wide eyes. The idea of his father having been a child once was one that he understood on principle, they all started out small and got older, but it was something that had couldn't quite get a grip on any other way. Sort of like the idea of his Grandmother having been his parent's age once. "I thought you were just Uncle Peter's friend."
"I'm Uncle Peter's very old friend." Adam chuckled, ruffling Monty's hair.
Monty giggled, beaming up at Adam before leaning over and hugging him again, "I like you."
"Well, that's good," Adam told him, returning the hug. "Because I'm rather fond of you and your family, you know."
"Are you staying then?" Monty asked, looking up at the blond.
"I believe so," he said thoughtfully. "Until you lot get tired of me."
Monty beamed and shook his head furiously left and right, "Nuh-uh. Not gonna happen."
Adam laughed softly. "You're a good kid, Monty."
Monty continued to beam before shifting and relaxing back against Adam, "I try."
"You are helping Simon a great deal. I can tell. And when the time comes, I'll be around to help you learn how to control whatever ability you get," Adam promised.
Monty smiled softly, those few words a lot more reassuring than anything else he'd heard in relation to this lately, as he snuggled contently against Adam, "Thank you. I really appreciate it."
"I've been told I'm a decent teacher. And your family is very special to me. I'll be around as long as you need me to be."
"Thank you," Monty said again, a bit sleepily this time as he snuggled contently against Adam.
"Have a bit of a rest," Adam suggested. "It's been a long day. I'll be right here."
Monty smiled, closing his eyes as he relaxed against Adam, "Goodnight, Mister Adam."
"Goodnight, Monty. Sleep well."