Monsieur Tout-Le-Monde (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} sometimes) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} solitarycomm,@ 2013-01-01 21:56:00 |
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WHEN: Backdated to December 23rd
WHERE: Meredith's apartment, where he's been staying for a while now
WHAT: Peter's birthday and an attempted reconciliation
WARNINGS: None
Peter had lost all track of the world around him. After being possessed, after Nathan killing the demon within him and having to go to that fight at Elysium... after having his arm ripped off and having been dead for who knows how long before Severus came and took the pipe out of the back of his head... from that point on everything just sort of faded away. Even the pain of regrowing his arm, which took far longer than he would have liked, it was all just background noise and visual static. None of it mattered. None of it made him feel anything.
He recalled vaguely that Mer had gone through a hell of an experience with a demon of her own taking over that Daryl guy, but she was okay. That was what he took away from it. She was okay, she was there, and when he had both arms he'd been able to hug her before simply remaining on her couch and not really moving since. There wasn't much point in it, after all. He didn't exactly have what could be called a ‘home' to return to any more. Not with Nathan... not with how his brother hadn't even been able to look at him.
Almost all questions or attempted interactions with him fell off to the wayside. Sometimes ignored, but usually brushed off in depressed lethargy. Talking required too much. Thinking required too much. Even eating was ignored or put off. It wasn't like he was going to die from starvation anyway, right?
It was almost stereotypical, how he curled up there and did nothing but stare into the void. Every day he made the effort to take care of the basics of self-care, but once completed he only collapsed back onto the couch. With no more work to go out to, no more lives to save and no home to return to... this was it. He had no purpose, no place else to belong, and nothing to drive him to do more.
That it took so little for everything to fall apart... but it was what he'd expected to happen if he was to ever tell Nathan about Gabriel. How else was Nathan supposed to react? Sylar, in his world, had killed him. And yes, Gabriel had done some awful, terrible things. All of which Peter made damned sure he made up for. Not just for Claire, but for others. Those memories the demon had plucked and shoved into Nathan's head, they were all out of context. If he'd just had the chance to explain!
But there was no point in thinking like that. So Peter remained where he was, alone for the time being, in Meredith's apartment and sitting up on the couch with his knees drawn up to his chest. Arms wrapped around and eyes staring blankly at the wall ahead of him. He didn't know what else he could do. Without a calling and without his brother? He was nothing. Even with all the abilities in the world, he was nothing.
Hell, he'd only just realised it was his birthday. Welcome to being 31.