WHO: Peter Petrelli, Sarah Williams WHERE: the Hyperion WHEN: after this WHAT: A brief talk. RATING: PG STATUS: log; COMPLETE!
Before he had even made the suggestion to help Niki, Peter was searching for Sarah. He wasn't going to leave this hotel without telling her where he was going. The whole situation was... hell, it sucked. That was it. It sucked, and there was nothing he could do about it.
No, that wasn't true. He could let Niki go to the hospital. He could go try and help her and not tell Sarah. He could not explain the history between him and Niki.
No, he couldn't. If he tried any of those things, he'd hate himself. Niki was a part of his past, and he would never be able to write her off like that. Even if she hated him. And he loved Sarah. He wouldn't lie to her. Even when the truth would hurt. Because he was certain this would sting.
As soon as he had an address, Peter was out of his seat, moving in the direction where he would find Sarah. Which turned out to be the kitchen. He wanted to run over and throw his arms around her, but he didn't. He paused, held himself a bit away. "Sarah?"
Having nearly finished cleaning up after the usual lunch mess with the boys, everything but the dishes put away, Sarah paused with a plate in her hand and smiled. "Correct!" she teased because of the question in his voice, then turned away from the cupboard to look at him. "Hungry? I can make you something..."
She trailed off, smile receding fractionally as she focused on the look on his face and his general body language. Something wasn't right. What it was, she couldn't be certain, especially as it could be anything given the events of their lives, but quiet instinct told her it wouldn't be liked if he looked like that.
Setting the plate on the counter, she closed the space between them. "Spill," she said, nudging his midsection.
Peter shut his eyes for a moment, to breathe in the scent of her, letting his hands drift to her arms, to hold her hands. "I need to go check on a friend. She was attacked last night by that pyramid-headed thing, and..."
He let out a breath. "Her name is Niki. We were together, before I came here. It's over, for a lot of reasons, but I can't... I can't not help her. Not if she's hurt."
Instinct had been right. Sarah didn't like it. Where was 'the Apocalypse is nigh, hon, so we have a bit of a problem' when you needed it?
She knew exactly who he was talking about. One didn't exactly forget the name and face of the people that threatened to decapitate the person they loved, after all. That the violent blonde in question was someone more, someone he'd been together with before coming here, made Sarah's initial vague dislike of Niki's behavior a full-blown 'do not want' of jealousy and worry that she stamped on with vicious force.
This was Peter and he couldn't deny help to those he loved, no matter what the history between him and the individual in question was. Even if she could push past the flares of jealousy and insecurity, which was questionable at this point, that fact would still remain. And she wouldn't love him as she did were he any other way.
Realizing a reaction – a spoken one, that was – was required, she gave it. "I know, I understand." Understanding was very cerebral, after all. Understanding could occur without emotions attached.
Some of the tension holding him melted. Some, not all, because he could still feel that flare of jealousy and insecurity that gave rise in her. Peter wouldn't admit that he didn't mind the jealousy so much, but the insecurity made him want to hold her, to kiss her until it melted away, until she was as confident as he was that she was the one, the only one, for him.
"Sarah," he said, resting his forehead against hers. "I love you. You're all I want, baby. You." She had to know that. She had to believe that.
Sarah closed her eyes, her turn to breathe in the scent of him as she listened to him. She believed everything he said, not just that he believed it, but that she believed it. And this wasn't about being the only one ever, it was about still being the one later. That prickle of insecurity said, things change, it wouldn't be the first time this happened, but she gave it another stomp for good measure.
This wasn't the past – not hers, not his. The present might be touched by the past, but it wasn't a repeat of it, and they loved each other. He was hers, just as much as she was his. She wrapped her arms around him and held on, trying to keep the gesture from being the equivalent of a quietly growled 'mine'. She didn't know if she succeeded.
"I love you too," she said softly, brushing her forehead against his. "Now go patch her up." It wasn't permission and it wasn't an order, it was only acceptance.
She didn't succeed completely, but the gesture, along with her attempt to hide it, made Peter smile. "I'll be back soon," he whispered, and then brushed his lips against hers in a soft kiss, making the words a promise.
He wrapped his arms around her and hugged tightly. And then he let go, letting his arms trail away from hers as he turned, keeping contact for as long as possible without clinging to her again. It was still hard to walk away, but his chest felt lighter than it had when he'd first approached her.