Romances of Maury Parkman, Chapter 6: Luckiest Man Alive
A/N: This is set in March of 2011, almost four weeks after chapter 5. For those of you who have read the other Shattered Salvation stuff, you'll see events alluded to here happened in Salvation of Acceptance. To sum up those events as they bear on this chapter, Maury has had a long and arduous two days work and is stopping by Angela's place to give her a report on how things are going.
Maury rang the doorbell on the Petrelli house and scratched idly at the bristles on his cheek while he waited. He supposed he should have gone by his apartment that morning and shaved instead of heading straight back to work. His beard hairs were grey and didn't show up much against his skin until they got a bit longer. He wondered what he'd look like with a beard these days. It had been over a decade since he'd had one. The door opened and Michael Fitzgerald took up most of the space. The blond man studied Parkman carefully and said nothing.
After a long beat, Maury asked, "Are you going to let me in?"
Michael didn't answer. His lips moved slightly, but no sound came out. Maury tilted his head and listened. Michael was thinking, You have to tell me to let you in. Angela said. Tell me to let you in. Is he hearing me? How do I think louder? There's a way that they-
"Let me in," Maury repeated, this time using his ability to back it up. Michael stepped out of the way immediately.
Michael said, "She's waiting for you in the sitting room."
"Thanks," Parkman said absently, then looked up at Michael. I really ought to give him some training on mental defenses since she's decided to keep him around longer term. "Do you like your job?"
"What?"
"I said: do you like your job? What you do here - do you like it?"
"Oh. Yeah, yeah, sure. I do." Michael looked perplexed to have been asked such a thing, but he enjoyed his work. He elaborated, "It's real easy and she's nice. I get to see a lot of people."
Maury snorted softly. Of course he gets to see a lot more than he was seeing stuck in a cell in Omaha. Michael had been released from containment for good behavior last August, with his freedom contingent on working for half a year in whatever capacity the Company directed. Angela had picked him up as a bodyguard, though he'd also been used as muscle for a few small missions. He was a cooperative, easy-going fellow and now that the Company wasn't out to get him, he could not care less about opposing them.
Parkman said, "Are you going to keep doing it?" Michael looked faintly alarmed, not sure at all where the director was going with this line of questioning. "You're not slave labor. Not anymore, at least. Your six months was up at the end of January."
The big man nodded. "Yeah, we talked. She talked to me. I know. I asked to stay on. She said yes."
Parkman nodded. "Okay." He made a note to address mental defenses with the bodyguard at some later date. He nodded at Michael to dismiss him and walked to the sitting room.
Angela was waiting for him, having just set aside her laptop. He hooked a thumb back in the direction of Michael and asked her, "How is it that you're waiting for me, you expected me, me, mind you, and yet you asked him to test me? If you knew I was going to be here, then why bother with a test? You already knew how it would turn out."
"Yes, I did. That's why it was a test you would pass."
He rolled his eyes at the indecipherable answer and sat down in the chair next to her. A small table sat between the two seats. "Now I know why you precogs take drugs all the time. Must be the only thing that makes the world make sense to you."
"Yes, it is," she said distantly.
He glanced at her sharply. "I was being facetious."
"I wasn't."
He sighed. He rubbed his forehead and decided to drop it. He was being grouchy because he was tired.
"How did things go?" she asked.
"Pretty good, actually. You want the full report?"
"Yes, please."
He put out his hand across the table and she slipper hers into his. It wasn't for any reason of closeness, but his gesture told her how fatigued he was from the day that even the slight advantage of contact was something he needed. Hours upon hours of near-continuous use of his ability had exhausted him. It was part of why he was annoyed to be tested at the door. He'd expected to have to relay the information to her telepathically and was husbanding his power as much as possible. To have to squander some of it on a pointless security measure was irritating.
Twenty minutes later, she slid her hand from his and the pain in her mind receded immediately, fading to nothingness as the contact ended. Maury lifted his fingers to his temple and slowly rubbed a small circle. He had no escape from the ache of overextending himself. The pain made him nauseous. He carefully controlled his unruly stomach, though if he had to do much more, his control would slip.
"I think you got all the important parts," he told her.
"Yes, I think so," she said softly and stood. She'd felt what he went through just so she stayed informed. She walked to the side of his chair and stroked his head. He put his hand down and looked up at her in surprise. She smiled at him. "You don't complain."
He snorted. "I complain all the time."
She ran her hand to the back of his head and turned him to face away from her. She put her hands on either side, starting at his temples and massaging his scalp, running her fingers across the slightly oily skin and wispy stray hairs. He slumped and said quietly, "Thank you. You're being really nice. You don't have to do this for me. I'll be fine."
"I know." She worked over his scalp to the base of his neck, then rubbed the muscles down his spine. She came back up lightly along the sides of his neck and then brought her hands around his face as she stood behind him. Her fingers pushed into his jaw muscles and over his cheekbones, then ghosted across his forehead.
"That's… really good," he murmured.
"It's been a long time since I touched a man like this." Her hands fell to his shoulders and rested there for the moment.
He stood up and turned to face her, putting his left hand on her right hip. He rubbed his lips together slightly and leaned in to her. He hesitated for a moment and she turned her head to meet him. He closed the distance and kissed her on the mouth, his hand sliding around to the small of her back and pressing her lightly against him. She put her arms around him and felt his warmth.
He broke the kiss and simply enjoyed the embrace, his cheek against hers. "I'd like to do more. Oh… how I'd like to do more if you'd let me, but Angel, I'm so tired. I'm sorry. My head's killing me. I don't think I can." He knew she knew that. The cynical part of his mind thought that was exactly why she was flirting with him like this. He was 'safe' at the moment, incapable of even using his mind against her, much less his body.
She hugged him and said, "Stay until morning. You'll be able to then."
"Stay here, with you?" He drew back so he could see her face. Cynicism be damned. Hope came to life.
"Yes."
He smiled slowly and kissed her again, more lingering and deeper than before.
He woke up when the bedroom door opened. She slid into bed with him. He muttered something about snoring and kicking him and something less articulate. She told him to go back to sleep and he did. When he woke later, she was still with him and awake. "Did you sleep at all?" he asked muzzily.
"Yes," she said simply.
"Hm." He got up and visited the facilities and rinsed his mouth out. When he came back, he kicked off his boxers and climbed into bed, rolling over to face her. He ran his hand across her skin, watching her face in the dim light. He couldn't see her expression yet, not after the brightness of the bathroom, but he could feel her presence in his mind. He wasn't trying to read her. He ran his fingers up her arm and across her shoulder, scooting himself closer and propping himself up on his elbow. She was naked under the sheets. He smiled.
She lifted her head a little as he caressed her face, then he leaned in and kissed her gently and softly. He touched her like she was fine porcelain, though he knew full well she was made of sterner stuff. He leaned back, savoring her taste and the impression of her lips against his, willing and sweet. He could feel wisps of her mind through the contact. Touching people's skin with his hands or his face often did that, if he wasn't determined about blocking. He wasn't now - there was no reason to be. He said, "Angela." It was almost a question.
"Yes?"
"I love you."
He could see her well enough now to see her smile and even without that, he heard it in her voice as she said, "Maury." Her tone was faintly chiding.
"Yes?" he answered, smiling in turn. He knew he wasn't going to get a similar answer. It just wasn't who she was, certainly not yet. Maybe after they'd been together for a while.
She said in a kind, amused voice, "You always were a sentimental fool underneath all that."
"Mm," he said and leaned in to her again, this time kissing along her cheek towards her ear. "I like it when you talk dirty to me." He let his hand drift lower across her body and after a few minutes she arched her back and then rolled on her side to face him. They embraced.
Their love-making was slow and passionate and careful - neither was in a hurry, they wanted one another, and yet there was the cautious distance of new lovers. After they were done, she left to shower and he lay sprawled out on the bed, thinking, I am the luckiest man alive. Even if Arthur finds a way to make me pay for this like Angie said he would, this was fucking worth it. He exhaled happily and stared at the ceiling for nearly a minute. I wonder how big the shower is? I'll bet it's palatial. He got up to find out and slipped under the warm water with her.
It was easily big enough for two and had a built-in seat. She smiled at him with hooded eyes as he entered. He thought about asking if she minded, but didn't. After kissing each other under the water, touching and caressing for a while, he murmured, "Let me wash your back."
She handed him the sponge and shower gel and he worked up suds. She moved the shower head to spray against the wall. He started on the top of her buttocks and worked upwards. She asked, "Maury, do you think a person can ever really change?"
He huffed slightly, scrubbing at her lower back. "For your sake, I hope like hell they can."
She shifted a little and asked, "For my sake?"
"Yeah. My track record with women sucks. At least, the ones I really care about. The one-night stands, that sort of thing, never gave me a problem." He hesitated. "I was… with you… I'm hoping for more than that." He made a few abortive motions with the sponge, then swept up her wet hair and put it over her shoulder. She reached up to help him get it out of the way and their fingers touched, danced and twined together for a moment.
"Mm. I liked it."
He smiled a little at his pang of insecurity at her non-answer. His smile widened as he thought, Would I have expected anything else from Angela, the consummate realist? He rubbed higher, across her shoulder blades and the middle of her back. I wonder who she had in mind? Clearly it wasn't me. Maybe herself? Gabriel?
He thought back to one of his encounters with Gabriel earlier that day. The man had pushed him hard, mentally as well as telekinetically, in a fit of pique about Maury concealing information from him. He'd apologized, but Parkman had been reminded of how frightening a person he was, how quick to move from disagreement to lethal violence if it suited him. He was as bad as Arthur but without the long-term vision, which made him worse (more unpredictable, less reliable) and better (easier to thwart, simpler to manipulate). Gabriel mentioning how he wasn't quite up to three digits in murders didn't help.
"Who were you thinking of?" he asked.
"Arthur."
Oh, that stings! He chuckled. I stay the night, we sleep together, we make love, I'm here in the shower washing her back and she's thinking of him. What a way to make me feel wanted, Angie. He shook his head, grinning ruefully at his own wounded pride. What did I expect out of this, anyway?
"What if he has?" he said. "What if he's changed and he's everything now you ever wanted him to be?" He finished with her back. Would you go back to him? Are you going to dump me already? Guess I'm no good in bed. I knew I should have taken her mind. At least I would have known what I was doing wrong. Assuming performance even matters, which I sort of doubt.
She turned around to face him and said, as if she'd read his mind, "It doesn't matter. He wasn't here. You were." She spoke more softly. "My future has changed. I've made different choices than the ones I saw myself making before." She wrapped her arms around him. He kissed her forehead and she laid her head on his shoulder.
Different choices? Me rather than him? He wanted to ask, but he didn't. Her skin was cool under his hands. He glanced up at the shower head and wished he had telekinesis to redirect it without moving. After a few moments, he reached up to move it so the spray hit her back, rinsing her off and warming her. As he'd expected, though, his motion ruined the moment and she took a step back from him.
She moved her hands smoothly across him, slick with soap and water. "Your turn."
"Sure." He turned and rolled his shoulders, irritated. He'd been enjoying just standing there holding her.
"Stiff?"
"A little. It's not too bad."
"Michael does a very good massage." She lathered up the sponge again.
He chuckled. "Have you been abusing your privileges with the hired help?"
She snorted and began in the middle of his back, spiraling out. "Of course not. He's a good man. Speaking of that though, have you been abusing yours with the agents?"
"What? Hey, she came on to me. And I'm… I'm not… we're just friends, that's all." He sounded guilty even to himself.
Angela's hands stopped moving. After a long moment, she said, "Maury… who do you think I'm talking about?"
He blinked and looked over his shoulder at her. Her face was still and severe. "Uh… Patty?"
She smiled slightly, her face softening. "Ah." She blinked. "Yes, I recall… her."
Maury's eyes shifted to the side, thinking of who she must have meant, then back to her. "I haven't touched Claire. Not like that. It's very basic commands. We can't let someone with her ability be so vulnerable to mental attack. She's the future as much as Gabriel is."
She nodded and started cleaning him again, turning the subject away from her granddaughter. "Patty. Didn't you recommend her to be an agent? She was with Matt."
He nodded. "They broke up. Not well. Yeah, I recommended her. She's a good kid. Lotta potential, I think."
"Your judgment isn't clouded?"
He shrugged. "I'm not seeing her anymore. I didn't see her much to start with either."
"Hm. You said Gabriel put a hole in your head. I don't see it." She reached up and stroked the back of his head, leaving a trail of soap bubbles behind.
"Didn't I tell you? No… I don't think I went over that part. Fatima put me back together. Fuad's bodyguard, laser-eyes, got me across the legs really good and I passed out. She healed me." He avoided mentioning the part where Gabriel had nearly killed him a second time for tasering Peter. "I was about played out at that point anyway, but after she did her thing, I had a second wind. I wouldn't have made it the rest of the night without it. That was a really rough day."
"Things should be better for a while."
"So the Halo thing is going to pan out?"
"I think so."
"What about Peter? Gabriel's about to lose his marbles over me leaving him on ice. I'd assumed that last attack on Pete wasn't reversible and that was that." It had been the topic that provoked Gabriel into assaulting him yesterday - a very light assault by Gabriel's standards (and Maury's too), but it was an attack any way you looked at it. Maury wouldn't tell him why he wouldn't have Fuad and Bandar try to fix Peter.
"Peter will be as he has been." She sighed.
"So it's already happened? Or it hasn't happened yet? You said he was going to stand against us."
"He will and he is." She smiled. "I'm sorry, Maury. It makes sense to me and it probably will to you later."
"You're sure we shouldn't do anything about that?" he pressed.
"Maury, he's my son."
He shrugged. She'd done some pretty ruthless things already with her sons, but he nodded and took it on faith, as he did with so many things with her. "Should I have Bandar reverse what he did to him?"
"You don't need to."
He sighed and made an effort not to grit his teeth. 'Don't need to.' That wasn't my question. Should I? I've got to know what to do about Peter because without that I can't know how to handle Gabriel. If he keeps hitting me like he has been, eventually he'll kill me and I figure he'll disintegrate my body. That will be that - no coming back if that happens.
She finished his back and rinsed him off. They got out and dried separately. Angela stepped over to him and kissed him deeply. He returned it with interest. When they parted, she ran her hand across his stubble-covered cheek. "You should shave."
"Are you offering your razor, dear lady?" he smiled.
She huffed. "I still have some of Arthur's things here. I have two sons, a male bodyguard and a butler. Surely you can find what you need somewhere around here."
He looked her up and down and thought, I have what I need, that's for sure. He started searching through drawers for shaving cream and razors anyway.