Perhaps you could help me to demonstrate how your center can keep up its sickening spin.
There's a face that Chicago doesn't see all that often sitting in one corner of The Luna Bar, enjoying a whiskey sour and taking a moment to relax. To say that Adam has been busy lately would be the understatement of the millennium. It's not exactly easy to run worldwide criminal organization and it's even harder to figure out a good way to
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Peter's day is not going so well. He's got the forged paperwork showing he's licensed to be a nurse, but what good is that if he doesn't remember all his training? He's tried studying up on his own, but, really, he's just not that good at it, not outside the structure of regular classes and instructors and hands-on experience.
The beer arrives, and Peter's got more polite words and smiles for the barkeep. Once she drifts away to help another customer, however, the smile fades, and he reaches up to pinch the bridge of his nose, eyes closed, before he begins nursing his beer.
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Adam's been in this universe a lot longer than a lot of people realize and while he never really thought of anyone showing up here from his universe, the fact that someone (besides Sylar- Lord knows he could do without Sylar) has and it's Peter, of all people.
Well. Let's just say Adam's day has brightened significantly.
"Peter Petrelli," he says casually, but loudly enough for Peter to hear him, picking up his whiskey and giving the contents a good twirl. There's a chance that there just might be a spectacular double running around, so it's always good to be sure of these things.
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"I, uh." Clearly this is somebody who knows him. He thinks of how badly his meeting with Claire went and his stomach ties itself into a knot. Shit. He's racking his brains but he cannot come up with a name to go with this face.
"Hello." What was it he'd say? ...Who'd say it? There was somebody, somebody he knows who's really good with words. He can't think of that guy's name, either, but he knows what that guy would say.
"'Fraid you've got me at a disadvantage. You know my name but I can't seem to place your face. Sorry."
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He moves down a few chairs, closer to Peter. "Adam? We were going to save the world, provided you're not too focused on rescuing cheerleaders these days. Don't tell me it's the Haitian again."
Not that Peter will have any idea what any of that means if it was the Haitian, but Adam's going to put on a good show anyway.
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"I don't know any cheerleaders, or anybody from Haiti," he insists. But the frown deepens, and he admits, "...or if I do, I don't remember. I can't remember anything past the last few weeks, when I was in Ireland. I only knew my name because I had ID on me. Passport, driver's license, nursing license, that stuff."
He eyes Adam almost apologetically. "I don't remember you, either. We were... gonna save the world?"
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"Yes. Granted, that's all a bust now, all things considering." Well, at least his original plan is. He has other plans to save the world in this universe, but those are not so easily put into effect.
He strokes his chin, and mutters, more to himself, than to Peter. "All right, I suppose we're going to have to do this all over again." Never mind that this Peter never did it the first time. "I don't suppose you still have that photograph on you?"
It worked the first time! ...Beyond that, Adam's a little shorter on ideas. It's not like he can walk up to Nathan and tell him to be a sport and fix his brother. For one thing, there probably is no Nathan here... For another, Nathan would be a problem.
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"How did you..." Peter reaches around and pulls out his wallet. He extracts the photograph of him and Nathan, arms around each other, big smiles, in tuxes. It's a bit water-damaged--Adam, I'm sure sooner or later you're going to hear the story of Peter's arrival, and his subsequent unsuccessful attempts to get back across the Rift.
Peter holds up the photograph. "This was in with my stuff, when they found me in Ireland. Who's that? And how did you know I had this?"
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He looks relieved, however, when he holds up the photograph- the water damage is a bit new. "I know this, because we've done this before. Exactly this." Granted, it was in Canada, not some bar in an alternate universe in Chicago, but semantics. He gestures at the photograph with the hand holding his drink, his expression mildly perturbed that he has to do this again. "That's your brother. Nathan. You should know by now that you have abilities. One of them is healing, so..." He shrugs. "If you want your mind to heal itself, focus on Nathan. Provided it works, everything should become clear to you."
It worked the first time... Unless the Rift has just rattled his little brain so much that everything's screwed up. Adam's praying it doesn't.
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Oh, Peter. Repeating everything everyone tells you about yourself hasn't jogged your memory back so far. Why not stop?
He frowns down at the picture. "Nathan," he repeats. "My brother, Nathan."
...Nathan's the eloquent one. The one with the way with words. Nathan is the one who uses phrases like "you have me at a disadvantage". Nathan's the one who saved you, who flew you away when you were going to explode...
Peter crumples a bit, one hand going to his forehead, as the memories come rushing back, as his battered and erased psyche sets about mending itself. Kirby Plaza. Sylar. All those people. Nathan. Nathan saved him. Nathan's in the hospital now. The Company. The cells, the "Haitian pills," Elle ( ... )
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"Welcome back, Peter," he says, with a small, delighted little smirk over the edge of the glass. "And that is a good story, but irrelevant right now. How long have you been here like that?"
There's a question that's probably going to make Adam facepalm- Peter really is a helpless puppy and dropping him in Chicago, of all places, like that is just cruel. However, it does put Adam at a distinct advantage- he always did like having Peter on his side. He's useful. And he adores him and Adam rather enjoys being adored.
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Peter takes a drag off his beer, blinking a few times to shake off the last lingering traces of memories-flooding-in. A little crease appears between his eyebrows as he thinks. "Few weeks," he tells Adam. "I kept hoping my memories would come back, but..."
He shifts around on his perch, getting more comfortable. "After we got split up, I was put in a shipping container to Ireland. Spent a few weeks there. I saw... Adam, I saw a terrible future. There was this virus..." He lets out a sigh. "Nothing I can do, really, I guess. You can't go back. I tried."
He regards Adam for a few long moments. "What about you?" he asks, reaching for his glass. "How long have you been here?"
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"And you lost your... Friend there in that future, as well, right?" He arches an eyebrow in Peter's general direction and doesn't wait for a response to that before he adds, "When I said we'd done this before, I wasn't being sarcastic. Clearly, we're on different timelines, although equally unsuccessful at saving the world."
Well, Adam did drop the vial before Hiro teleported him, which subsequently dropped him in this universe, but he can't label releasing the virus a success unless he's there to fix everything.
"So I suppose even Hiro Nakamura's miraculous ability doesn't even work in alternate universes," Adam mutters, studying one of his empty glasses. He might sound a little snide. "And I've been here a lot longer than you have, I promise you."
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Peter hasn't yet made the connection, there. He doesn't yet know that it was a fluke of the way the Rift changed his power, not of his repeated hurling himself at the Rift, that made him pass out.
"That's not gonna happen here, is it?" Peter asks, finishing his beer and signaling to the bartender for another.
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Adam's faith in the human race is... Suspect at best. Adding a species war into the mix, on top of this CLF business and his faith drops into the negatives.
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The bartender brings him another beer. Peter reaches for it, eyeing Adam a bit critically, thinking hard. "You said, 'that particular bullet'," he notes, fingers closing around the glass. "That makes me think there's other ones out there."
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He tops off his whiskey and signals for another. The bartender is starting to give him funny looks, considering how many he's had and how drunk he's not.
He gives Peter a sidelong glance and says, rather crypically, "You'll find, Peter, that this city has more than its share of problems."
He might be running one of them, but he's certainly not bringing that up on a first date.
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