There comes a certain time in every mans life when he decides that he needs a little something more to do. Since certain happenings of a radioactive nature, and
trying to keep the rest of the castle safe from Sylar,
only to end up with a pole through his head, Peter wanted something else. Something normal. Something that wasn't running around
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Needless to say, she didn't really have time for new friends or nervous twitchy guys. "Move it or I'll move it for you, Thumper," she commanded, pushing past him to get to a bed where a blonde teenager was expelling his lunch into a bucket. "If you don't have something falling off or bleeding, then you're in the wrong place."
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He looked over at the busy nurse, smiled briefly, and made his way towards one of the beds - currently housing a rather rotund man that looked way too much like Santa Claus. He didn't look like he was in danger of expelling anything soon, so Peter grabbed a washcloth and soaked it in cold water, patting it down on the patients forehead. If he got the fever down, the poor guy would feel a lot better.
Again, Peter looked up at Carla, watching her curiously. "What do they have?" The unspoken addendum was, of course, 'I'm going to be staying here to help.'
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A shocked but entirely please smile lit up her face and Carla nodded once in acceptance of his help, replacing Logan's chart and walking over to Peter. "Some kind of prank candy, we think. Lily - one of the Healers in Training - is off now trying to run down some kind of antidote." In other words, 'it's not catching'.
Holding out one hand, she added, "I'm Carla. I'm a nurse, here. And you, Thumper? Doctor, nurse, or do you just have a thing for sponging down fat old guys?"
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He shook Carla's hand, giving her an apologetic smile over the fact that his hand was probably still wet from the washcloth. "Peter Petrelli." ...Thumper? Peter wasn't even going to ask about that one. The apologetic smile turned into a crooked grin. "I'd say I have a thing for sponging down old fat guys, but I'm really just a hospice nurse in disguise."
Concerned, Peter looked over the rest of the patients, and rubbed the back of his head. He'd dealt with things like this before, but he was a little out of practice. "So, ah, anything that needs to be done, just yell. I'm here to help."
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She went to work on Santa, absently slapping his hand as it wandered to grab her ass. Obviously it wasn't the first time. "So, Peter," she glanced up after a few minutes. "What made you decide to come join the madhouse? New here or have I just not seen you around?"
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As soon as Carla gave the word, Peter was already hurrying over to check the IV's of the patients she pointed out, making sure to stay far enough away from the yellow blob. Despite himself, Peter couldn't help but raise his eyebrows at it. What the hell was it?
So involved in taking vitals, Peter almost didn't hear Carla's question. "Hm? Oh, I just... needed a break," he answered, smiling ruefully. "I haven't been here long, but I figure I could at least do something useful." Thank god for quick reflexes; Peter jerked his hand out of the way as the yellow blob moved. He didn't want to get bitten, thank you very much. "How busy is it here? Are there really that many doctors in a magic castle?"
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Grabbing a chair and dragging it over next to the other patient Carla had said needed checking, Peter sat down and started taking his vitals. The poor guy looked like he was having fever dreams, and for a moment Peter really wished he'd picked up something useful, like the ability to heal other people. That would go a lot further towards saving the world than anything else he could do.
He should probably answer Carla's question about the 'break', but Peter really just wanted to shove a lot of what had happened recently under the rug. It was diversion time ( ... )
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"Break from what?"
Yeah right, Peter. As if you were going to get off that easy.
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"Wow, ten years," he commented quietly. But, oh god, there she went again with the questioning. Peter didn't really mind the sorts of people who thought all business was their own - in cases like this, having a politician for a brother came in handy. It had taught him to avoid the real truth quite convincingly.
Peter just smiled slightly again, looking at Carla over the patient he was tending. "My brother Nathan was running for Congress; tends to focus a lot of attention on the family. I barely went a day without some reporter trying to talk to me and get the scoop on any dirty little secrets I could tell. It's nice to be away from all that."
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"So, Thumper," she started, but whatever line of questioning she'd chosen next was interrupted by Robin stirring restlessly, reaching out to grab her shoulder as he half-woke, panicked from some dream. "Shh," Carla murmured, wincing slightly under the puck's grip and trying to ease him back down. "It's okay, we're just trying to help you. Thumper, hand me that potion, the one in the green vial, behind you." Her order to Peter contrasted with the gentle, soothing voice she used on the patient. Robin, however, wasn't about to be soothed. He grabbed hold of Carla tighter, muttering wild phrases in Greek. Carla's face blanched slightly at the sudden pain in her shoulder, but otherwise she didn't move, holding Robin back from leaping out of bed and waiting for Peter to give her the sleeping potion.
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His control had been a bit haywire lately, but Peter managed to think clearly enough to remember the blonde woman in Kirby Plaza, the inhuman strength hiding under her slim body and concern for her family. Gently, he pried Robin's fingers away from Carla's shoulder, and held his arm down, keeping a loose grip around Robin's hand in case he tried to flail some more.
As an afterthought, he reached behind him and retrieved the potion in the green vial, handing it to Carla with a concerned frown. "Are you okay? I didn't know he was strong enough to do that, I'm sorry, I should have been looking out for it."
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"Thanks," she said, looking up at Peter with a smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. He has bad dreams, this one. Took out an entire instrument tray when he first came in."
Her hand lightly squeezed Peter's in thanks before she moved away, fingers exploring her shoulder. Damn it, she'd bet it was bruised. Holding it gingerly, arm stiff and close to her body, she walked over to the cabinet and pulled out a tube of paste. This was...going to be awkward. Her arm just didn't bend the right way to work the bruise paste in. "Don't just stand there," she called over, half-teasing. "Are you going to help?"
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At Carla's request, Peter's head shot up, wide eyed and a little embarrassed at having just drifted off a little into his thoughts. Oh, she wanted help with... presumably some kind of paste for bruises or pain. He could do that.
He dutifully followed Carla, and took the tube from her, glancing at it in curiosity. At least there was one upside to being a nurse - Peter could be completely clinical and helpful when confronted with a hot woman asking him to rub things on her. "Sure. Do you just want to pull your collar aside, or...?"
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