With a growl, Claude grabbed Peter by the shoulders and roughly yanked him back into the training room, despite Rachel's indignant 'Hey!', and thrust Peter into the middle of the chalk circle. "Use your brain, you poodle. Do you think I'd put myself in the way of your lackluster performance?"
He turned to Rachel, snapping, "Do it." She hesitated and he grabbed her arm, shaking her. "You want to help him? DO IT."
Looking furious, Rachel met Peter's eyes and sighed. Expression apologetic, she nonetheless set her circle, Claude jumping out of the way just in time. "Peter," she said plaintively. "Think about it. You're inside the circle. Sylar couldn't get to us when I had us in one. You won't be able to get out, no matter what. Just..." She glanced over at Claude and then back. "Look, I know you're going to be able to control it." She gave him a lopsided grin. "Besides, the sooner you do it, the sooner we can kick him out and go take a nap."
Claude snorted and rolled his eyes. "As touching as this is, love and cuddles aren't going to stop him," he pointed at Peter, "from killing us all in our sleep. Go back to painting your nails or whatever you were doing before. He doesn't need you, and I sure as hell don't want you lurking around."
Rachel's expression tightened and she folded her arms. "Like hell."
But Claude had already shifted focus back to Peter. "Look, Petrelli, you can whine and cry all you like, but truth of the matter is, you are going to get a starring role on the Young and Glowy sometime. If you can't get a handle on it now, you're going to wake up and have one less nubile young wife to screw and a hell of a big crater to live in. So reach down into wherever you keep your balls and stop fucking around."
This wasn't happening. This seriously couldn't be happening. They were insane.
Peter had spent the better part of a few months trying to avoid blowing up, and okay, he was in a circle that would apparently let everybody else be safe and wouldn't let the radioactivity extend beyond it, but that wasn't the point. If he shoved it so far down that he forgot about it, it wouldn't resurface, it would stay dormant. Right?
But as soon as Peter started thinking about it, thinking about Ted and the panic of trying not to explode, it started happening anyway. Just like last time; the radiation moving like flash-fire heat through his veins, his hands lighting up from the inside. Oh god, it was happening again.
"Claude, please," Peter pleaded, staring down at his hands. Not again, not now. "I... I can't control this. Just let me out, put something through my brain, anything!"
Eyes going wide at Peter's pleas, Rachel moved forward to help. But she was jerked back by Claude's hand on her shoulder. His fingers pressed into her skin, biting painfully, holding her back. Jaw working furiously, she made a soft noise of frustration, watching Peter, hands curled into fists at her side.
"Calm down," Claude ordered sharply, but his voice had become oddly soothing. "Breathe, Peter. Don't worry about what's happening. Find the emotion. Figure out the link. Then make the button. It's all right there, right in front of you. You're not going to hurt anyone. You just need to concentrate. Focus. You're fine. You can do this, Petrelli. This isn't New York and you're not going to explode. Find the link."
That would fairly decent advice, if Peter wasn't a little more preoccupied with a certain something else.
"I can't, I can't think," he stammered, panicked. "It's a little hard when I'm about to explode!"
Technically, Peter knew he should be able to control this. It had happened four times; two he'd controlled it, one he'd passed out from, and one that he'd exploded. It wasn't terribly good odds, but if he'd done before, he had to be able to do it again. Right?
He glanced up at Claude and Rachel, initially scared for their safety before he remembered that the circle would protect them - and oh god, the radioactive power was spreading up his arms and taking over, glowing with a sickly light.
Do what Claude says. Calm down, and breathe. ...Well, at least he was calmer, now. The strange kind of calm that came with inevitability. Claude and Rachel were safe, it would be okay. "I can't do anything," Peter said slowly. Deja-vu. "Just don't come inside the circle until it's finished."
Claude was now holding Rachel bodily back. "Get off me," she snarled, pushing him away and heading for the circle. Claude and Peter both be damned, she was not letting him do this alone. What Rachel thought she was going to do was unclear. One second she was heading for the circle, determined, the next an invisible fist had struck her with scientific precision and she was sprawled on the floor, unconscious.
Not sparing her a glance, Claude flickered back to visibility. "You can do something. Stop just reacting - you're not a dog on a leash being led around. Don't behave like it. 'S not a runaway Roller Coaster, mate, and you're not strapped in and heading down the drop. Find the feeling. Make the trigger." Claude's voice became more urgent, compelling Peter. "FOCUS, Petrelli. Look at me."
Clear blue eyes met brown, steady and sure. "It's not stronger than you, friend, and you can do something. Breathe."
Peter had almost gone to stop Rachel from doing anything, before remembering that he couldn't exit the circle. Claude's method was a bit brutal, but it worked, it kept Rachel safe - even if she'd probably have a hell of a bruise tomorrow.
He opened his mouth, trying to say 'Thanks' or 'I can't do it' or 'Sorry', or any other number of things that sprang to mind for him to say, but his voice wasn't working. Claude's words were getting lost in the pounding that was taking up his hearing, and the only thing Peter could really do was stare at him dumbly. He couldn't think. All he could do was feel the radiation moving through his veins and trying to overwhelm him, trying to explode.
Deja-vu.
It was all he could do to be grateful when he started to feel light-headed and started to list slightly to the side. Thank god, he was going to pass out and not explode. He wasn't strong enough to focus in the midst of all of this. Peter almost smiled as his vision began to darken; this was one sure way out of it.
When Peter came to, he'd find himself lying still within the chalk circle, head on Rachel's lap as she dabbed his face with a cool washcloth from a basin in which herbs seeped. Claude was pacing back and forth, occasionally checking on Peter with a low growl of concern before resuming his trek around the room.
"He's going to be fine," he announced to no one, hand scrubbing at his face.
"No thanks to you," Rachel shot back, worry evident in her voice. "Come on Pete," she continued more softly, brushing back his hair from his face. "Don't do this."
"What I did was necessary."
"What you did was cruel." Rachel sounded furious. She'd only been out for a second, waking up in time to see Peter pass out. Within seconds she'd broken the circle and started barking orders at Claude, which he followed with uncharacteristic meekness and a hell of a lot of muttering. The water was an essence that was useful for soothing and pain relief. Continuing to bathe Peter's face lightly, Rachel grew more worried by the second. "Who do you think you are, anyway?"
"I'm his best chance, girlie. You have no idea what's out there, and neither does he. I'm just trying to help him and save all our asses."
When Peter woke up, it was with one firm belief; Passing out was getting to be really old.
"He is my best chance," Peter announced, squinting as he opened his eyes. Not much time had passed, probably, but the radioactive power always made him feel a little strange afterwards. He wondered if, when using it, his body had to be healing itself constantly. Peter hoped so, otherwise he was probably going to get cancer in the next few years, or some other radiation-induced deformity.
With a slightly loopy smile, he reached up and patted Rachel's cheek in thanks. Then, he pushed himself upwards until he was sitting, and looking up at Claude in worry and apology. "Sorry, I just... I guess I'm not good enough to get a hold of that one yet. I can't really think, I get too scared." Peter smiled slightly, self depreciative. "Even when I know everybody around me is safe. Kinda stupid, huh?"
When Peter sat up, started talking, obviously drained but not seriously harmed, both Rachel and Claude let out quiet sighs of relief. Claude immediately looked away, squinting out the window, hands in his pockets. He'd donned his jacket again and his shoulders had a peculiar hunch. Almost shame. He'd been wrong. Again. Once again he'd thought Peter could control his radioactive power, once again he'd been mistaken. At least this time Peter hadn't exploded. No one had to die for this error, and Peter wasn't injured. Claude was sure, though, that his luck couldn't possibly hold. He had to get Peter to control this or people would die. "Try again," he said, flatly, not looking. "No excuses, friend. Don't hear me whinging on about how hard it is to go invisible, do you?"
"You've got to be kidding." Rachel had laid her hand on Peter's shoulder, about to insist that he go rest on the couch while she made lunch. Now her eyes, sparking with ire, tracked to Claude. "He's had enough."
"I'll say when he's had enough," Claude shot back in a roar, turning around. "And he'll be there when he's either learned to control it or he's dead. That's the only way."
"Stop pushing him!" Rachel didn't move from Peter's side, but she had unconsciously tapped a line, her fingertips crackling with the energy she was spindling in. "Making Peter break isn't going to justify your sorry life, so back off. He's doing the best he can. He's got time."
Claude started forward with a growl, then stopped himself. "You're not really his wife. You're nothing more than a mistake. Don't think that you can talk for him, friend, and don't think that you have any say over what methods I use. I know what I'm doing. And I'm not going to listen to some little girl dressed up like a two-bit whore and thinking she's somebody. I am trying to help him." Almost as soon as the words spewed from Claude, angry and hostile, he disappeared. Stomping out the door back into the kitchen, Claude muttered a nearly-silent rant about pushy women and bloody empaths.
For her part, Rachel let her hand fall from Peter's shoulders, cheeks flamed in embarrassment. "Sorry," she muttered, pushing herself up and unknowingly following after Claude back out to the kitchen. "I'll make you something to eat. You should...eat something."
Silently watching and listening to the argument between Rachel and Claude, Peter simply watched as they both left for the kitchen. Rachel was right, he should eat to keep up his strength. Unfortunately, Claude was more right - he had to get a control over this before it killed people.
As soon as he had the room to himself, Peter settled himself into the middle of the chalk circle, kneeling, hands on his knees. Rachel had taught him how to set a circle, and although he'd never tried, it didn't sound too hard. Deepening his breaths, Peter closed his eyes and mentally reached out for the nearest ley-line. God, Rachel had never told him that it would feel like this, like unadulterated power filling his mind. Grimacing sharply, Peter struggled to follow through and loop it back, but as soon as he could feel the circle take shape on the chalk, everything righted itself and he breathed a sigh of relief.
That was probably the messiest circle-drawing anybody had ever done in history. But it had worked, and that was the only thing that mattered. It would contain everything that needed to be contained. God, that had been tiring. Peter had already felt fairly drained, and that had just topped it off. But he needed to control this.
Features setting in determination, Peter lifted his hands off his knees, watching them as he dug deep and retrieved memories of Ted. They were few and far between, but they were enough. It was so reactive, the way he barely had to think about it before the radiation started lighting up his hands again.
If there'd been some way for me to send Claude zapping to the ever after or falling out of an airplane or bound and gagged into a troll cave, I so would have done it. Whatever he could do for Peter be damned. He was rude and belligerent and had insulted me (and my clothes!) for the last time. He said something else and I was going to take him down.
Banging things around in the kitchen, I had pulled out a pot to boil water for pasta - lots of carbs would get Peter his strength back fast; that and some protein, so I was already planning on adding some chicken to the menu - when I felt a pull on my chi from someone tapping the ley line behind our tent. Now, normally when I'd had that feeling back home, it'd been a gentle tug. Not this time. This time it felt like someone was ripping at my insides; I braced myself against the counter and gasped. It was someone bullying power with none of the finesse of an actual ley line witch.
"Peter."
Turning, I ran back into the training room, finding him on his knees within a circle of his own construction, hands already beginning to glow. Turn it all to hell. I knelt down in front of him, my face a study in concern. Some pride, too - for a first timer, he'd set a fairly good circle. "And people say I'm stubborn," was all I said, though, my lips curving up into a crooked smile.
Instead of doing what my first instinct was and trying to force down his circle or shouting at him to stop killing himself for the affirmation of a cranky old man, I took one deep, slow breath. This wasn't about me overreacting because there was an emotion, there, in regards to Peter that I couldn't let myself acknowledge and I didn't want to think about. Peter needed to do this, even if I hated the methods.
"Come on, Petrelli." My smile was brief but confident and my eyes sought out his. "I know you can do this."
Unknown to me, Claude had followed me back in, guessing what my reaction had meant. Now he rippled back into my vision with a snort and an eyeroll, arms folded tightly across his chest. "Rather you know that he's safe behind his little glass wall and you can be as bloody love and sunshine all you want without risk." His eyes fixed on mine for a second, far too piercing. "But I'm guessing that's pretty typical, yeah? Keep everyone at just enough distance so that you can pretend fall in love and it never has to be too real? Sad little caricature of a girl, aren't you? And tell me, friend, does it keep you from getting hurt? Or are you just alone with the pain, too?"
Gaping, I stared at him, but he'd already dismissed me from his attention. Focused again on Peter, he was nodding his head as if to some unheard beat, his fingers tapping nervously. I choked down any response and returned my gaze to Peter. Oh, I was so going to kill that man later.
Wow, Claude should really lay off Rachel. He got that Claude liked to say that he knew all about the real sides of people, but was this really a good time? It was a little distracting.
Essentially, Peter figured, the problem came down to belief. He had no problem believing in his own powers, and no doubt when it came to the relative truth of the future Isaac had painted. He'd believed that he could save Claire, so he had. The downside was, he also believed that the radioactive power would overwhelm him and he'd explode. If he could just manage to flip that belief around...
Barely hearing what was going on outside the circle, Peter glared at his hands, willing the power to fade and vanish. He could do this. Rachel believed in him. Claude believed in him. All he needed was his own belief, and he'd be set.
Minutes ticked by, and Peter imagined the door shutting on his few memories of Ted. Slowly, gradually, the glow faded. Triumph and relief rushed through him, almost making him laugh with the giddiness of adrenaline. He'd done it. Once. And once wasn't enough.
He couldn't stop there, he was going to do it again and again until he either succeeded 100% of the time or passed out. And Peter wasn't just going to make it go away, he was going to be able to control it, own it.
The next time he tried, it manifested as an exploding ball just above his hands. That was surprising. But progress. And Peter wasn't leaving this circle until he felt he had enough control over this.
Eyes intent, Claude watched, silently, as Peter struggled with the power. And when Peter managed to force it back, he barked out a laugh. "What do you know? Poodle learned a few new tricks, after all. Just hold onto that, Peter, whatever you're doing. That's your meal ticket, right there."
Rachel grinned at the fireball. "Cool," she breathed, looking up at Peter. Obvious pride was in her face; she wouldn't normally be so open, but worry for Peter broke down some of her usual walls.
"More than cool," Claude amended, something in his shoulders loosening. "Control. That's what an exploding man looks like when he's not about to level New York."
Caught off guard, Peter glanced up at Rachel and Claude when they spoke. Were they proud of him? That was strange. Not many people had ever been proud of Peter, so it felt kind of nice. Encouraging, even.
The brief burst of radiation had felt, curiously enough, like releasing pressure. It tended to build and bubble up in times of stress, taking advantage of any cracks in control. Maybe those bursts were a good way to keep the pressure low.
"You don't have to watch," Peter commented to Claude and Rachel, rubbing at his forehead with a hand. He'd sleep for days after this little session. "Go read a book, watch paint dry. Seriously, I'm going to be here for a while."
Obviously Peter underestimated the depth of commitment both people in the room had to him. But instead of arguing, Claude and Rachel just exchanged a quick glance, then Rachel stood gracefully. "Just remember not to touch any part of your circle," she said quietly, one hand going to brush gently against it, and she smiled at the feel. "Otherwise it'll break."
Claude didn't move as she left, leaning back against the wall and half-watching Peter. For once he didn't offer advice or odd metaphors. It was Peter's power, now, probably for the first time. All Claude could do was watch.
Rachel returned, pulling her hair back as she walked in. She'd changed into workoutclothes, but was barefoot, ready to spar. Claude didn't even remove his jacket, though he grinned widely and shot Peter an amused look at Rachel's outfit. Lucky man.
Moving forward, they didn't even have to speak. Claude picked up a long pole from the corner and attacked Rachel without warning. She ducked under the blow, kick shooting out to unbalance him. Claude dodged and came after her with a fury.
It was like a dance, graceful and without hesitation. Both had obviously been trained and neither held back. Claude shimmered invisible only to reappear behind Rachel to take out her legs with the pole. Rachel rained swift blows down with vampire-taught precision.
And both of them kept Peter in the corner of their eyes at all times. The tension of waiting was nearly unbearable; so they sparred, releasing it, close at hand should Peter need them. And both of them pretended they weren't worried and didn't care, a careful charade they needed for themselves.
"Fine, don't leave when I tell you to," Peter muttered under his breath, taking a break to watch them spar out of the corner of his eye. He could help feeling slightly envious. Maybe, one day, he'd be good enough to be that confident. Not that Peter particularly wanted to learn how to fight for the sake of fighting, but being able to at least defend himself would be fairly useful.
It turned out that there wasn't much more he could do. He was already overly tired from the first part of Claude's training, and trying to focus and channel the radioactive power was fairly time consuming. A few more bursts of radiation, an hour later, and Peter couldn't work up the energy to do anything more today.
Peter smudged out of a portion of the chalk circle, breaking it - if he was going to set any more circles, he'd definitely have to practice doing so with more finesse. A quick glance at Rachel and Claude told him that they were still sparring, and he didn't want to interrupt. So he shuffled out into the kitchen, brushing back sweat-soaked hair with a grimace, and started rooting around in the cupboards for something he could eat.
He turned to Rachel, snapping, "Do it." She hesitated and he grabbed her arm, shaking her. "You want to help him? DO IT."
Looking furious, Rachel met Peter's eyes and sighed. Expression apologetic, she nonetheless set her circle, Claude jumping out of the way just in time. "Peter," she said plaintively. "Think about it. You're inside the circle. Sylar couldn't get to us when I had us in one. You won't be able to get out, no matter what. Just..." She glanced over at Claude and then back. "Look, I know you're going to be able to control it." She gave him a lopsided grin. "Besides, the sooner you do it, the sooner we can kick him out and go take a nap."
Claude snorted and rolled his eyes. "As touching as this is, love and cuddles aren't going to stop him," he pointed at Peter, "from killing us all in our sleep. Go back to painting your nails or whatever you were doing before. He doesn't need you, and I sure as hell don't want you lurking around."
Rachel's expression tightened and she folded her arms. "Like hell."
But Claude had already shifted focus back to Peter. "Look, Petrelli, you can whine and cry all you like, but truth of the matter is, you are going to get a starring role on the Young and Glowy sometime. If you can't get a handle on it now, you're going to wake up and have one less nubile young wife to screw and a hell of a big crater to live in. So reach down into wherever you keep your balls and stop fucking around."
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Peter had spent the better part of a few months trying to avoid blowing up, and okay, he was in a circle that would apparently let everybody else be safe and wouldn't let the radioactivity extend beyond it, but that wasn't the point. If he shoved it so far down that he forgot about it, it wouldn't resurface, it would stay dormant. Right?
But as soon as Peter started thinking about it, thinking about Ted and the panic of trying not to explode, it started happening anyway. Just like last time; the radiation moving like flash-fire heat through his veins, his hands lighting up from the inside. Oh god, it was happening again.
"Claude, please," Peter pleaded, staring down at his hands. Not again, not now. "I... I can't control this. Just let me out, put something through my brain, anything!"
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"Calm down," Claude ordered sharply, but his voice had become oddly soothing. "Breathe, Peter. Don't worry about what's happening. Find the emotion. Figure out the link. Then make the button. It's all right there, right in front of you. You're not going to hurt anyone. You just need to concentrate. Focus. You're fine. You can do this, Petrelli. This isn't New York and you're not going to explode. Find the link."
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"I can't, I can't think," he stammered, panicked. "It's a little hard when I'm about to explode!"
Technically, Peter knew he should be able to control this. It had happened four times; two he'd controlled it, one he'd passed out from, and one that he'd exploded. It wasn't terribly good odds, but if he'd done before, he had to be able to do it again. Right?
He glanced up at Claude and Rachel, initially scared for their safety before he remembered that the circle would protect them - and oh god, the radioactive power was spreading up his arms and taking over, glowing with a sickly light.
Do what Claude says. Calm down, and breathe. ...Well, at least he was calmer, now. The strange kind of calm that came with inevitability. Claude and Rachel were safe, it would be okay. "I can't do anything," Peter said slowly. Deja-vu. "Just don't come inside the circle until it's finished."
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Not sparing her a glance, Claude flickered back to visibility. "You can do something. Stop just reacting - you're not a dog on a leash being led around. Don't behave like it. 'S not a runaway Roller Coaster, mate, and you're not strapped in and heading down the drop. Find the feeling. Make the trigger." Claude's voice became more urgent, compelling Peter. "FOCUS, Petrelli. Look at me."
Clear blue eyes met brown, steady and sure. "It's not stronger than you, friend, and you can do something. Breathe."
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He opened his mouth, trying to say 'Thanks' or 'I can't do it' or 'Sorry', or any other number of things that sprang to mind for him to say, but his voice wasn't working. Claude's words were getting lost in the pounding that was taking up his hearing, and the only thing Peter could really do was stare at him dumbly. He couldn't think. All he could do was feel the radiation moving through his veins and trying to overwhelm him, trying to explode.
Deja-vu.
It was all he could do to be grateful when he started to feel light-headed and started to list slightly to the side. Thank god, he was going to pass out and not explode. He wasn't strong enough to focus in the midst of all of this. Peter almost smiled as his vision began to darken; this was one sure way out of it.
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"He's going to be fine," he announced to no one, hand scrubbing at his face.
"No thanks to you," Rachel shot back, worry evident in her voice. "Come on Pete," she continued more softly, brushing back his hair from his face. "Don't do this."
"What I did was necessary."
"What you did was cruel." Rachel sounded furious. She'd only been out for a second, waking up in time to see Peter pass out. Within seconds she'd broken the circle and started barking orders at Claude, which he followed with uncharacteristic meekness and a hell of a lot of muttering. The water was an essence that was useful for soothing and pain relief. Continuing to bathe Peter's face lightly, Rachel grew more worried by the second. "Who do you think you are, anyway?"
"I'm his best chance, girlie. You have no idea what's out there, and neither does he. I'm just trying to help him and save all our asses."
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"He is my best chance," Peter announced, squinting as he opened his eyes. Not much time had passed, probably, but the radioactive power always made him feel a little strange afterwards. He wondered if, when using it, his body had to be healing itself constantly. Peter hoped so, otherwise he was probably going to get cancer in the next few years, or some other radiation-induced deformity.
With a slightly loopy smile, he reached up and patted Rachel's cheek in thanks. Then, he pushed himself upwards until he was sitting, and looking up at Claude in worry and apology. "Sorry, I just... I guess I'm not good enough to get a hold of that one yet. I can't really think, I get too scared." Peter smiled slightly, self depreciative. "Even when I know everybody around me is safe. Kinda stupid, huh?"
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"You've got to be kidding." Rachel had laid her hand on Peter's shoulder, about to insist that he go rest on the couch while she made lunch. Now her eyes, sparking with ire, tracked to Claude. "He's had enough."
"I'll say when he's had enough," Claude shot back in a roar, turning around. "And he'll be there when he's either learned to control it or he's dead. That's the only way."
"Stop pushing him!" Rachel didn't move from Peter's side, but she had unconsciously tapped a line, her fingertips crackling with the energy she was spindling in. "Making Peter break isn't going to justify your sorry life, so back off. He's doing the best he can. He's got time."
Claude started forward with a growl, then stopped himself. "You're not really his wife. You're nothing more than a mistake. Don't think that you can talk for him, friend, and don't think that you have any say over what methods I use. I know what I'm doing. And I'm not going to listen to some little girl dressed up like a two-bit whore and thinking she's somebody. I am trying to help him." Almost as soon as the words spewed from Claude, angry and hostile, he disappeared. Stomping out the door back into the kitchen, Claude muttered a nearly-silent rant about pushy women and bloody empaths.
For her part, Rachel let her hand fall from Peter's shoulders, cheeks flamed in embarrassment. "Sorry," she muttered, pushing herself up and unknowingly following after Claude back out to the kitchen. "I'll make you something to eat. You should...eat something."
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As soon as he had the room to himself, Peter settled himself into the middle of the chalk circle, kneeling, hands on his knees. Rachel had taught him how to set a circle, and although he'd never tried, it didn't sound too hard. Deepening his breaths, Peter closed his eyes and mentally reached out for the nearest ley-line. God, Rachel had never told him that it would feel like this, like unadulterated power filling his mind. Grimacing sharply, Peter struggled to follow through and loop it back, but as soon as he could feel the circle take shape on the chalk, everything righted itself and he breathed a sigh of relief.
That was probably the messiest circle-drawing anybody had ever done in history. But it had worked, and that was the only thing that mattered. It would contain everything that needed to be contained. God, that had been tiring. Peter had already felt fairly drained, and that had just topped it off. But he needed to control this.
Features setting in determination, Peter lifted his hands off his knees, watching them as he dug deep and retrieved memories of Ted. They were few and far between, but they were enough. It was so reactive, the way he barely had to think about it before the radiation started lighting up his hands again.
Now, all he had to do was control it.
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Banging things around in the kitchen, I had pulled out a pot to boil water for pasta - lots of carbs would get Peter his strength back fast; that and some protein, so I was already planning on adding some chicken to the menu - when I felt a pull on my chi from someone tapping the ley line behind our tent. Now, normally when I'd had that feeling back home, it'd been a gentle tug. Not this time. This time it felt like someone was ripping at my insides; I braced myself against the counter and gasped. It was someone bullying power with none of the finesse of an actual ley line witch.
"Peter."
Turning, I ran back into the training room, finding him on his knees within a circle of his own construction, hands already beginning to glow. Turn it all to hell. I knelt down in front of him, my face a study in concern. Some pride, too - for a first timer, he'd set a fairly good circle. "And people say I'm stubborn," was all I said, though, my lips curving up into a crooked smile.
Instead of doing what my first instinct was and trying to force down his circle or shouting at him to stop killing himself for the affirmation of a cranky old man, I took one deep, slow breath. This wasn't about me overreacting because there was an emotion, there, in regards to Peter that I couldn't let myself acknowledge and I didn't want to think about. Peter needed to do this, even if I hated the methods.
"Come on, Petrelli." My smile was brief but confident and my eyes sought out his. "I know you can do this."
Unknown to me, Claude had followed me back in, guessing what my reaction had meant. Now he rippled back into my vision with a snort and an eyeroll, arms folded tightly across his chest. "Rather you know that he's safe behind his little glass wall and you can be as bloody love and sunshine all you want without risk." His eyes fixed on mine for a second, far too piercing. "But I'm guessing that's pretty typical, yeah? Keep everyone at just enough distance so that you can pretend fall in love and it never has to be too real? Sad little caricature of a girl, aren't you? And tell me, friend, does it keep you from getting hurt? Or are you just alone with the pain, too?"
Gaping, I stared at him, but he'd already dismissed me from his attention. Focused again on Peter, he was nodding his head as if to some unheard beat, his fingers tapping nervously. I choked down any response and returned my gaze to Peter. Oh, I was so going to kill that man later.
After Peter blew up.
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Essentially, Peter figured, the problem came down to belief. He had no problem believing in his own powers, and no doubt when it came to the relative truth of the future Isaac had painted. He'd believed that he could save Claire, so he had. The downside was, he also believed that the radioactive power would overwhelm him and he'd explode. If he could just manage to flip that belief around...
Barely hearing what was going on outside the circle, Peter glared at his hands, willing the power to fade and vanish. He could do this. Rachel believed in him. Claude believed in him. All he needed was his own belief, and he'd be set.
Minutes ticked by, and Peter imagined the door shutting on his few memories of Ted. Slowly, gradually, the glow faded. Triumph and relief rushed through him, almost making him laugh with the giddiness of adrenaline. He'd done it. Once. And once wasn't enough.
He couldn't stop there, he was going to do it again and again until he either succeeded 100% of the time or passed out. And Peter wasn't just going to make it go away, he was going to be able to control it, own it.
The next time he tried, it manifested as an exploding ball just above his hands. That was surprising. But progress. And Peter wasn't leaving this circle until he felt he had enough control over this.
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Rachel grinned at the fireball. "Cool," she breathed, looking up at Peter. Obvious pride was in her face; she wouldn't normally be so open, but worry for Peter broke down some of her usual walls.
"More than cool," Claude amended, something in his shoulders loosening. "Control. That's what an exploding man looks like when he's not about to level New York."
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The brief burst of radiation had felt, curiously enough, like releasing pressure. It tended to build and bubble up in times of stress, taking advantage of any cracks in control. Maybe those bursts were a good way to keep the pressure low.
"You don't have to watch," Peter commented to Claude and Rachel, rubbing at his forehead with a hand. He'd sleep for days after this little session. "Go read a book, watch paint dry. Seriously, I'm going to be here for a while."
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Claude didn't move as she left, leaning back against the wall and half-watching Peter. For once he didn't offer advice or odd metaphors. It was Peter's power, now, probably for the first time. All Claude could do was watch.
Rachel returned, pulling her hair back as she walked in. She'd changed into workout clothes, but was barefoot, ready to spar. Claude didn't even remove his jacket, though he grinned widely and shot Peter an amused look at Rachel's outfit. Lucky man.
Moving forward, they didn't even have to speak. Claude picked up a long pole from the corner and attacked Rachel without warning. She ducked under the blow, kick shooting out to unbalance him. Claude dodged and came after her with a fury.
It was like a dance, graceful and without hesitation. Both had obviously been trained and neither held back. Claude shimmered invisible only to reappear behind Rachel to take out her legs with the pole. Rachel rained swift blows down with vampire-taught precision.
And both of them kept Peter in the corner of their eyes at all times. The tension of waiting was nearly unbearable; so they sparred, releasing it, close at hand should Peter need them. And both of them pretended they weren't worried and didn't care, a careful charade they needed for themselves.
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It turned out that there wasn't much more he could do. He was already overly tired from the first part of Claude's training, and trying to focus and channel the radioactive power was fairly time consuming. A few more bursts of radiation, an hour later, and Peter couldn't work up the energy to do anything more today.
Peter smudged out of a portion of the chalk circle, breaking it - if he was going to set any more circles, he'd definitely have to practice doing so with more finesse. A quick glance at Rachel and Claude told him that they were still sparring, and he didn't want to interrupt. So he shuffled out into the kitchen, brushing back sweat-soaked hair with a grimace, and started rooting around in the cupboards for something he could eat.
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