Fic: Wanderlust
Angela Petrelli watched with disapproval as her son threw clothes into the half-open dufflebag, with half of them sliding off and landing on the bed instead of inside the bag. In all reality, she really should be grateful that he even let her in the front door after all that had happened, but it wasn't as if he was staying long anyway. His apartment still looked like he had started to move out and never finished anyway--but it had looked that way for months, and there had been no progress one way or the other.
Peter walked over to the bed, pulling the bag open and shoving the clothes that had missed inside, not caring what kind of state they were in. He didn't look up at Angela, but she didn't take her eyes off of him. "You haven't thought this through, Peter," she said in a tone of distaste. "Where are you even going to go?"
"Vegas," he said shortly, throwing a belt at the bag on the bed.
"I know, Peter, but where in Vegas? And what are you even going to be doing there? You barely lead a life as it is in New York; going away isn't going to change that," she said in a patronizing tone.
He let out a sigh. "It doesn't matter. There are more lights in Vegas."
Angela regarded him for a moment as one regards an animal trying to achieve something stupid, but without interfering. "Excuse me?" she asked calmly. "What do lights have to do with anything, Peter?"
"Lights just make it better," he muttered, not looking up at her again. "Even when it's night there, it's still like day, and it's just better all around."
She started to walk over toward him. "Peter, look at me. What are you talking about?"
His head snapped up to face her. She had been here all day while he was dealing with his last minute plans to leave, trying to talk him out of it. In fact, Peter just couldn't stand the sight of the place, and it was honestly just worse with her there. He needed to go, for his own sanity. Being here, alone, was too much. It was too empty and too hollow, and much too dark. For never sleeping, New York was a dark place--there were many shadows to hide in, even in the daylight, and he needed to retreat to the light.
Peter narrowed his eyes at Angela, as if it was something she should understand automatically and just didn't. "Because he can't hide in the lights. Sylar."
She reached a hand out toward his face to touch his cheek, and perhaps...that scar--the dreadful thing that split his face in half. And obviously his reality. Angela had been afraid of this; she had seen the signs in the past months, she just didn't want to admit that it could be true. "You are not going after Sylar," she said.
"No, but he'll come, and when he does, he won't be able to hide because he can't hide there," Peter insisted.
Angela pulled her hand back before she even touched his face. She let out a deep sigh. Her poor lost boy... "Peter..." she began. "You need to stay here in New York."
His eyes went over Nathan standing in the doorway. His Nathan--the one that was always with him, and never far because he couldn't exist outside the realm of Peter's mind. He closed his eyes. "Nathan.. make her leave."
"Peter, Nathan is dead," Angela told him in a flat voice. Her own emotion was so well hidden that not even he could detect it. "He's been gone for months."
"Nathan, please."
Nathan shook his head. "She can't see me, Pete, remember? You have to make her leave."
It was another point of leaving. He needed to get away from her. She was his mother, and Peter had loved her despite everything for his entire life. This had been the breaking point, when he couldn't even look at her face for the first two weeks, and now.. he just wanted to get away from her. She wouldn't leave him alone.
"Mom, you need to leave," he said, trying to squeeze his remaining strength back into his voice.
"Peter, you're my son, I'm not leaving you," Angela insisted.
"No. Get out. I don't want to see you."
He opened his eyes and turned on the lights. Only Nathan was left standing in the doorway. Peter let out a breath, and picked up his bag. "Vegas will really be better, right?"
His brother gave him a half smile, but it was enough. It had been Nathan's idea after all where to go, and had it been up to Peter, he would have just left and gone. There were too many reasons to leave to be counted in an orderly manner, and too many appearing rapidly in his mind that clogged up his synapses so he had to disregard the reasons for his departure, other than big prominent ones and that it had to happen.
"Of course it will, Pete," Nathan said. His tone took on a skeptical flare. "It's got your lights, remember?"
Peter rolled his eyes and swung his bag over his shoulder with a sigh as he headed for the door. He could hear the remanence of her voice in the rooms behind him.
You're making a terrible mistake, Peter.
"Stay in New York, Ma," he said to the bedroom. He opened the front door and stepped out into the hallway, and when he closed the door to his old apartment, he locked her inside. He didn't need two of them on the way to Vegas--one was bad enough.
Peter walked over to the bed, pulling the bag open and shoving the clothes that had missed inside, not caring what kind of state they were in. He didn't look up at Angela, but she didn't take her eyes off of him. "You haven't thought this through, Peter," she said in a tone of distaste. "Where are you even going to go?"
"Vegas," he said shortly, throwing a belt at the bag on the bed.
"I know, Peter, but where in Vegas? And what are you even going to be doing there? You barely lead a life as it is in New York; going away isn't going to change that," she said in a patronizing tone.
He let out a sigh. "It doesn't matter. There are more lights in Vegas."
Angela regarded him for a moment as one regards an animal trying to achieve something stupid, but without interfering. "Excuse me?" she asked calmly. "What do lights have to do with anything, Peter?"
"Lights just make it better," he muttered, not looking up at her again. "Even when it's night there, it's still like day, and it's just better all around."
She started to walk over toward him. "Peter, look at me. What are you talking about?"
His head snapped up to face her. She had been here all day while he was dealing with his last minute plans to leave, trying to talk him out of it. In fact, Peter just couldn't stand the sight of the place, and it was honestly just worse with her there. He needed to go, for his own sanity. Being here, alone, was too much. It was too empty and too hollow, and much too dark. For never sleeping, New York was a dark place--there were many shadows to hide in, even in the daylight, and he needed to retreat to the light.
Peter narrowed his eyes at Angela, as if it was something she should understand automatically and just didn't. "Because he can't hide in the lights. Sylar."
She reached a hand out toward his face to touch his cheek, and perhaps...that scar--the dreadful thing that split his face in half. And obviously his reality. Angela had been afraid of this; she had seen the signs in the past months, she just didn't want to admit that it could be true. "You are not going after Sylar," she said.
"No, but he'll come, and when he does, he won't be able to hide because he can't hide there," Peter insisted.
Angela pulled her hand back before she even touched his face. She let out a deep sigh. Her poor lost boy... "Peter..." she began. "You need to stay here in New York."
His eyes went over Nathan standing in the doorway. His Nathan--the one that was always with him, and never far because he couldn't exist outside the realm of Peter's mind. He closed his eyes. "Nathan.. make her leave."
"Peter, Nathan is dead," Angela told him in a flat voice. Her own emotion was so well hidden that not even he could detect it. "He's been gone for months."
"Nathan, please."
Nathan shook his head. "She can't see me, Pete, remember? You have to make her leave."
It was another point of leaving. He needed to get away from her. She was his mother, and Peter had loved her despite everything for his entire life. This had been the breaking point, when he couldn't even look at her face for the first two weeks, and now.. he just wanted to get away from her. She wouldn't leave him alone.
"Mom, you need to leave," he said, trying to squeeze his remaining strength back into his voice.
"Peter, you're my son, I'm not leaving you," Angela insisted.
"No. Get out. I don't want to see you."
He opened his eyes and turned on the lights. Only Nathan was left standing in the doorway. Peter let out a breath, and picked up his bag. "Vegas will really be better, right?"
His brother gave him a half smile, but it was enough. It had been Nathan's idea after all where to go, and had it been up to Peter, he would have just left and gone. There were too many reasons to leave to be counted in an orderly manner, and too many appearing rapidly in his mind that clogged up his synapses so he had to disregard the reasons for his departure, other than big prominent ones and that it had to happen.
"Of course it will, Pete," Nathan said. His tone took on a skeptical flare. "It's got your lights, remember?"
Peter rolled his eyes and swung his bag over his shoulder with a sigh as he headed for the door. He could hear the remanence of her voice in the rooms behind him.
You're making a terrible mistake, Peter.
"Stay in New York, Ma," he said to the bedroom. He opened the front door and stepped out into the hallway, and when he closed the door to his old apartment, he locked her inside. He didn't need two of them on the way to Vegas--one was bad enough.