Ballad Of Big Nothing- Adam's Side
Ballad Of Big Nothing
Adam's Side
"What do you mean? What's wrong with him?" I screeched over the phone.
Ever since Peter's move to London, things had begun to decline again. They had a taken a turn for the worse, almost deja vu like. Of course, the last time I hadn't really been there since the beginning to notice the cause of his self-destruction. But this time, it was pretty evident what was causing it- simple to fix as well, not that he'd have that.
Any word of Claire and he'd leave the room- even the letter 'C' was too much for him to bare. Quite honestly, it was a bit ridiculous for things to be so out of hand with him- especially when he had been making so much progress with her. It was as if she alone was all he needed to survive- she'd brought him sanity and, without her, it was gone, and again he resumed to that same stoic state he'd been in before her.
I envied him. Not his insanity, or lack of, but that someone could mean that much to him.
I was jealous that he could feel so passionately about her- enough to drive him insane. Maya meant a lot to me- she kept me company, and I loved her, but the insane passion that Peter evoked for Claire- I didn't have that with her, she didn't bring it out in me. The feeling always ran around inside me like a faint mist, but never triggered by anyone, it
just sat there in existence.
Over the phone, I could hear Elle sigh, "When I got here he was sitting on his bed, completely blank again."
This had been going on for a few weeks now, but more so as it got closer to the Easter
Sunday Petrelli brunch that Heidi had made him agree to go to which, consequently, he'd almost begged me to attend with him to make an excuse to leave early.
I wasn't sure what had happened between the both of them. He hadn't mentioned anything, but remained silent and surprised me with his abrupt declaration that he was moving to London.
He had given me no reason as to why their crazy, love fueled relationship had come to a sudden halt-it was bizarre. In my whole time as his agent, I had never seen him so full of life, and finally happy with a smile on his face. The fact that she'd been able to make him stop his less-than-healthy lifestyle had astounded us all too. That was what had made me realize just how important Claire was- just how pivotal.
Sighing, I pinched the bridge of my nose, exhaling deeply. To say I was clueless about what to do was an understatement. Nothing Elle or I did seemed to change anything or make any difference. Peter remained in a state of complete shock.
Of course, there would be small moments where he'd snap out of it and do the photo shoots or walk the runway, but that light in him- that magnetic pull that he'd had before with everyone, had vanished. It was as if Peter was an empty body roaming the earth with no soul.
Not to mention his old habits were returning quickly, and stronger than before. It was amazing what two months without Claire could do to him- it was disturbing how beneficial, yet catastrophically bad she could be to him.
...
Just as Elle had warned me, he was in a frozen sort of state when I arrived at his apartment. There was no expression on his face. The only visible signs of how he was feeling were the purple circles around his eyes and his obvious weight loss, again.
Apparently his desire to eat had left along with Claire, all good things had in fact. The only wants he had was anything that would pull him further down into the black blasphemy that he was already in.
I gestured for Elle to leave, as much as she didn't want to. In these past months she'd grown insanely close and dependent on being next to Peter, regardless of how much pain it caused her to see him love sick over someone else- then again, I suppose her expectations had always been low with him to begin with. She'd always settled for one third of his attention, and accepted the fact that while he may have been looking at her, all he ever thought of was Claire.
She left, rolling her eyes, and with microscopic sparks emitting from her fingertips. I smirked, knowing too well just how easily those small sparks could cause a city blackout if she stayed to listen to what I had to say to Peter.
As I heard the door close behind us, I turned back to the stoic figure laying down listlessly on his bed, "Peter- this- this has to stop."
For a moment, I thought he hadn't heard, or that he was resigned on completely ignoring and tuning everyone out. But then, it was there, a twitch of his mouth- an exhale with every attempt of saying something, "I'm ok."
"No, you're not."
He shut his eyes tightly and swallowed. But I didn't care if he was angry. What was that next to the decline of his health, anyway? If I had to infuriate him to get some response out of him, I'd do it. At that point, I was willing to do anything imaginable. His family get together was only four days away after all.
With no response coming from him, I sighed and sat against the wall, watching him intently, and wondering to myself why it was exactly that I even cared what happened to him. Never, in the history of my life, had I felt so compelled to help anyone before, even when it had been for the greater good alongside Hiro.
Yet, it was there- looking at Peter, I felt as if it was my duty to ensure his safety and well being- as if I had been granted some type of responsibility with him. Perhaps it was the contract binding me as his agent, or some higher sense of morality that I had gained since the Haitian had removed my less than heroic memories. But, whatever the case was, I had a feeling that ridding myself of Peter was not in my near future.
I looked at his figure, analyzing him and his thin form. There were tiny pinprick marks on his arms and stitches from his experiment on himself that Elle had informed me about. His body shivered from cold, but the room was at a nice temperature, he was sick- and it bothered me that just a couple drops of my blood into his system could make him feel better. All it would take to make those needle marks go away- the scar on his arm- the pessimistic view he'd gained- it could all vanish with my help.
But Peter had always been stubborn, and accepting the help that he much needed? He had too much pride. I would have done it myself and strapped him down. In fact, I almost had done just that when Elle had called me frantically explaining that he had slashed his arm. But his pleading- I couldn't force something on him that he didn't willingly want. He may not have been coherent at times, but knowing he didn't want my ability to help- that's when he was the sternest- he knew what he wanted.
I rubbed my eyes, about to say something, but my phone started going off. I didn't have to even look at the number to know who it was. Some Indian man had been calling me for weeks, talking about how he knew of my ability, and that it was important I meet with him- that the world depended on it. It wasn't anything personal with the world but, with Peter around, I certainly didn't have time to go off saving people- not that I had before to begin with...
Without thinking about it, I hit the ignore button, and instead focused on Peter's arms,
"Peter- must you really do it?"
He sighed, "Do what?"
Pretending had always been one of his most masterfully acquired abilities. He could have had a wound to his heart and still go on pretending as if he was in perfect health. He'd practically do anything to deny the fact that there was something wrong, and that it had something to do with a certain short blonde.
"Did it ever occur to you that in a few days you're going to have to face the whole Petrelli clan? Your family, Peter. How do you propose to do that in the state you're in? What will Cl-"
"I'm not going."
Of course he'd say that. He'd say anything to get out of family gatherings or any social situation lately, "Whether you like it or not, you're going. You haven't seen your family in months- and it wouldn't hurt to show your face to the public now and then...it's just one visit, it won't kill you."
A bitter scoff escaped him, "It might."
...
With mountains of persuasion and promises to never again force him into this, Peter had finally accepted to go to his family gathering. It had been somewhat of a challenge to get him onto the plane, but after a couple of sleeping pills, his anxiety had seemed to fade away, and he drifted into sleep.
At the same time, I'd had to use somewhat of the same convincing with myself.
After leaving Peter's apartment a few days before, the persistent phone calls from 'Mohinder Suresh' had steadily increased. Once I had mentioned them to Peter, and he'd assured me that he was a trustworthy, old friend of his, I'd given in to his plea of meeting with him once we got to New York.
Peter had gladly given me directions as to how to get to Mohinder's apartment, but had refused to go, and had instead decided to stay in his hotel room until the very last second before I'd pull him to go to the Easter Sunday brunch.
As I knocked on the door, an unfamiliar feeling of uncertainty and fright spread through me. I wasn't used to being clueless about what was going on, or who I was meeting. What I didn't expect to find though, was the young girl who opened the door for me; a sick looking Claire with an inexplicable expression upon her face.
"Claire?" I couldn't help it, my curiosity was too strong not to ask what she was doing there. She looked nearly as bad as Peter did from the outside, apart from the self-mutilation marks he carried on his arms.
Her face was as easy to read as his. It was contorted with such pain that it nearly made me mute. It was as if she mirrored him externally, as if whatever he was going through, she was as well. I had underestimated just how strong their bond was- just how interconnected all their feelings were. Never before had I witnessed such an incredibly flawed, yet deep love between two people.
The only question that I still had was what had happened? Peter had been silent about anything related to Claire, only saying that they had mutually decided to break up. But it hadn't made sense to me, not when only weeks before he had been planning a spontaneous wedding in Australia.
She frowned at me, confused as I was, I supposed, to see me there as well, "Wh-what are you doing here?"
I looked over at Mohinder and frowned, realizing I wasn't quite sure either, "I'm not exactly sure yet." How was that remotely relevant anyway? It was my chance to pull her aside and beg for her to do her magic work on Peter to help him. After all, she was the only one that had ever been able to make him see things clearly while I had known him. Yet- as much as I wanted to ask her what had gone wrong, what had happened between the both of them, and beg her to help him now, I decided not to.
There was always the possibility that she could be as fragile as him, and to mention his name could have caused her to try and flee. So I sighed, and turned to look at her instead, "How about you? How do you know each other?" I motioned between Claire and Mohinder.
Claire's brow furrowed and, as she was about to respond, her hand traveled to cover her mouth, and she ran out of the apartment with no other warning- leaving us all confused.
Again, for what seemed the fiftieth time in those five minutes that I had arrived at Mohinder's apartment, I raised one eyebrow, and looked at him curiously, "So why exactly is it that I'm here?"
...
Confusion.
Shock.
No- impossible, improbable?
Fact.
Apart from wanting my blood to try and save the world, my trip to Mohinder's had been to reveal to me one of the most life-altering truths I had ever heard.
Peter- the psychologically imbalanced model, who I basically took care of-Peter Petrelli the once- hero of the world, was my biological son. Mohinder had toyed around with the possibility of him being distantly related to me, or perhaps my brother- although after assuring him that I was indeed in my 300's, he'd known that was clearly impossible. No, the hard cold truth, and perhaps- misfortune for him- was that he was my son. Mohinder had assured me that he'd looked at both our files hundreds of times, and had always come up with the same results.
Only, I wasn't sure how to act around him after that. Telling him the truth was obviously not an option. He was already in a broken state to begin with, I couldn't imagine what telling him that I was his father would do to him. I suddenly pictured him standing on the side of a bridge, letting go...He didn't need to have something else to stress over, in fact- I didn't need it either- but it made sense.
All the feelings that had been circling in me since before I had become his agent, every strip of worry and necessity to watch over him- it made sense. It was my subconscious knowing that I had some type of paternal obligation to care for him. It was odd feeling, and a huge difference between knowing you were expecting a child and suddenly having a thirty-year-old one in front of you.
Confusion rang through my head first, wondering how it was possible. I didn't remember any romance with Angela but, then again, I was pretty certain I had fornicated with all the females working at the Company back when I had been in charge. It didn't surprise me that Angela had been one of them, after all, she did have her own track record.
After all the calculations had gone through my head and I had come face to face with the truth, and accepted it, another wave of feelings started surging through me. Anger, deep anger, that I hadn't felt in a long time ran through my blood. The mere fact that Angela could keep something that big from me and lie to him- to Arthur and Nathan, it very well made me livid.
I looked over at Peter again, sitting down on the balcony, smoking a cigarette and looking out on to the street twenty feet below. I hadn't been able to speak to him since I had come back. I wasn't sure what to say without sounding weird or different. The only difference I felt myself was the urgency to shake him and make him unwillingly- if I had to- get better.
Now that I knew the truth, I also had to face Angela.
...
Peter groaned as we walked through the front door of the Petrelli mansion, already recognizing a dozen faces from what I could tell. He had managed, thankfully, to pull himself together as much as he could, and soberly as well.
"Twenty minutes max." He said flat out, grabbing a glass of champagne as the waiter passed, downing it all at once.
I pursed my lips and shook my head, "Go mingle, I have something to attend to."
Peter blinked his eyes, "Here? With who?"
I contemplated telling him the truth right there- to say that I was going to have a conversation with his mother. But then that would lead to other questions, revelations- all things that weren't necessary, and I was sure they only would cause more confusion for Peter.
So I raised an eyebrow towards the food, "The buffet, of course."
To that, he merely rolled his eyes and darted off towards an excited Heidi and Nathan. I scoffed at his stiffness as soon as Heidi enveloped him in her arms.
From the corner of my eye I could see a brunette turned towards me, and instantly knew who it was. As I turned to look at her, Angela slowly made her way around the corner, knowing I was following her.
As soon as I was on the other side of the office door, I quickly pinned her to the wall, "You bitch."
She laughed coyly, as if there was some type of joke in her taking my memory and keeping the fact that I had a son from me. Then again, Angela had always seemed unable to process those natural feelings everyone else had.
"You had my memory removed so that I wouldn't know his paternity," I let her go and breathed heavily, trying to maintain my fury, "You should have told me Peter was my son."
But as those words came out of my mouth, there was an intake of breath behind me. I turned to see a petite brunette in front me- Claire. She stood still in shock, obviously having heard what I had just said.
When I turned back to Angela, she was still-stoic- without any expression on her hard- frightening face. I sighed, unsure of what to do. I needed to get the truth out of Angela, and ask her why she had kept the truth from the both of us, but at the same time- Claire knowing frightened me. The last thing he needed was her running to him and telling him the truth about his paternity.
So, I made my decision and turned back to explain to Claire that she couldn't tell Peter, but she had already fled.
"This isn't over," I sneered at Angela.
When I left the study, I could already see a panting Claire holding herself up with her hands on her knees. She noticed me out of the corner of her eye and looked up, "Is it really true?"
"Yes," I sighed, putting my back against the wall next to her. Feeling as helpless as she felt clueless. I had no answer to her silent questions. I imagined that millions must have been filtering through her head, wondering which one to pick and ask, but as to where to begin- I guess that was the problem for both of us. "Just, please don't tell him anything, Claire. He doesn't know- and he wouldn't be able to handle it at the moment."
"What do you mean?"
In the moment I turned to try to casually explain that he was in such a deep depression over their breakup that it almost seemed as if he wasn't alive anymore, my cellphone went off with a bright little letter on the screen from Maya.
It read-
I'm in labor.
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Beta'd By Ellie!!