Topic #213: theatrical_muse
OOC: The Peter being referred to is mybrothershadow, and he’s used with permission from his mun. This is set in the shakeitup_pf’verse, but in the previous timeline before the Blooms arrived in Roanoke.
“There's enough sorrow in the world, isn't there, without trying to invent it.” -E.M. Forster, A Room With A View
“I should be up there helping people.”
Sandy glanced over at Peter, and sighed heavily. “Peter, there’s not a lot you can do.”
“I have Adam and Claire’s ability, don’t I?” he said, giving her a look. “I could be out there healing people.”
“You don’t have their ability,” she said quietly. “You’re an empathic mimic. It might not work, and you might cause more harm than good. Blood types and all. You know that.”
They had the same conversation every day, sitting in the cold areas of the underground, waiting for the signal that it was safe to make their way above ground. Peter had picked up her brother’s ability not long after they had met, so he was able to keep their body temperatures down far enough to keep the virus from incubating. Initially, Eddie and a few others had been with them, but they had gotten separated for a while, when the others had gone to look for food. Peter and Sandy had taken the last shift, so they were switching it up and having the other half of the group go instead.
Peter was quiet for a while, and Sandy sighed slightly, running a hand through her hair. She didn’t understand why he did this. Why he took the weight of the world on his shoulders when he didn’t need to, piling that extra sorrow onto himself when it would be so much easier if he didn’t.
“Peter-why do you feel so responsible for all of this?” she asked quietly, desperately needing to understand what was going through his head.
“Does it matter?”
Sandy was quiet again, before pulling her knees into chest. “I’d like to know. I’d like to-see where you’re coming from, I guess.”
Peter looked at her, crossing his arms in front of his chest, and leaning back against the wall, looking away from her as he did. “Adam conned me into helping him get the virus. I was the reason he escaped to begin with, and I’m the reason he was able to get to the virus. This is all my fault. Everyone’s dead-Nathan is dead-all because of me.”
“Peter-he tricked you-”
“That doesn’t make it any better.”
“You can’t live with the weight of the world on your shoulders, Peter,” she said softly.
“But I have to.”
“No, you don’t.”
“What if things were the other way around?!” Peter asked, glaring back at her. “What if it were Eddie and nine-tenths of the world’s population who had died because of you, and I was sitting here telling you that you shouldn’t be feeling guilty over what you did?”
“Peter, it wasn’t your fault! He tricked you!”
“Without me, he never would have gotten this far.”
“Peter!”
“You don’t understand, Sandy.”
“Then make me,” she said, quietly, her face pleading with him to try and make her understand, try and take the burden off his shoulders. “There’s too much pain already to try and take it all on top of your own, Peter.”
Peter was quiet for a moment, before shaking his head, and looking away from her again. “If I don’t feel guilty, I turn into him.”
“If you keep feeling guilty, you won’t be able to survive yourself.”
“Maybe I don’t deserve to.”
“Yeah, well-don’t not survive until my brother gets back,” she muttered. He shot her a look, and she smirked back at him, letting him know she was joking. Millions of people may have lost their lives, but Sandy had managed to hold onto her sense of humor. Peter just rolled his eyes.
“Nice try.”
“I’ll get a laugh outta you yet, Petrelli.”
“Might take you a while.”
“Eh,” she said, shrugging slightly as she leaned back against the cold wall behind her. “I can live with that.”
637 words
“There's enough sorrow in the world, isn't there, without trying to invent it.” -E.M. Forster, A Room With A View
“I should be up there helping people.”
Sandy glanced over at Peter, and sighed heavily. “Peter, there’s not a lot you can do.”
“I have Adam and Claire’s ability, don’t I?” he said, giving her a look. “I could be out there healing people.”
“You don’t have their ability,” she said quietly. “You’re an empathic mimic. It might not work, and you might cause more harm than good. Blood types and all. You know that.”
They had the same conversation every day, sitting in the cold areas of the underground, waiting for the signal that it was safe to make their way above ground. Peter had picked up her brother’s ability not long after they had met, so he was able to keep their body temperatures down far enough to keep the virus from incubating. Initially, Eddie and a few others had been with them, but they had gotten separated for a while, when the others had gone to look for food. Peter and Sandy had taken the last shift, so they were switching it up and having the other half of the group go instead.
Peter was quiet for a while, and Sandy sighed slightly, running a hand through her hair. She didn’t understand why he did this. Why he took the weight of the world on his shoulders when he didn’t need to, piling that extra sorrow onto himself when it would be so much easier if he didn’t.
“Peter-why do you feel so responsible for all of this?” she asked quietly, desperately needing to understand what was going through his head.
“Does it matter?”
Sandy was quiet again, before pulling her knees into chest. “I’d like to know. I’d like to-see where you’re coming from, I guess.”
Peter looked at her, crossing his arms in front of his chest, and leaning back against the wall, looking away from her as he did. “Adam conned me into helping him get the virus. I was the reason he escaped to begin with, and I’m the reason he was able to get to the virus. This is all my fault. Everyone’s dead-Nathan is dead-all because of me.”
“Peter-he tricked you-”
“That doesn’t make it any better.”
“You can’t live with the weight of the world on your shoulders, Peter,” she said softly.
“But I have to.”
“No, you don’t.”
“What if things were the other way around?!” Peter asked, glaring back at her. “What if it were Eddie and nine-tenths of the world’s population who had died because of you, and I was sitting here telling you that you shouldn’t be feeling guilty over what you did?”
“Peter, it wasn’t your fault! He tricked you!”
“Without me, he never would have gotten this far.”
“Peter!”
“You don’t understand, Sandy.”
“Then make me,” she said, quietly, her face pleading with him to try and make her understand, try and take the burden off his shoulders. “There’s too much pain already to try and take it all on top of your own, Peter.”
Peter was quiet for a moment, before shaking his head, and looking away from her again. “If I don’t feel guilty, I turn into him.”
“If you keep feeling guilty, you won’t be able to survive yourself.”
“Maybe I don’t deserve to.”
“Yeah, well-don’t not survive until my brother gets back,” she muttered. He shot her a look, and she smirked back at him, letting him know she was joking. Millions of people may have lost their lives, but Sandy had managed to hold onto her sense of humor. Peter just rolled his eyes.
“Nice try.”
“I’ll get a laugh outta you yet, Petrelli.”
“Might take you a while.”
“Eh,” she said, shrugging slightly as she leaned back against the cold wall behind her. “I can live with that.”
637 words