"Oh, for the love of Jesus Christ and all his little children." Claude heaved out a huge sigh, actually having to walk away from Peter to calm himself down. Impossible. This was literally impossible. It was like beating a plastic spoon against the Hoover Dam and hoping to make a crack.
Returning to Peter, Claude rubbed his face with one hand and snorted a laugh. "Right. Okay. Let's start at the bloody beginning. Empaths don't just sympathize with people, Peter. They feel. They're psychically linked to the people around them. The more you care about a person, the closer you get to them, the more their moods affect you. Sure, you have your own feelings, too, but with someone as powerful as you, it all gets muddled up in your mind," he reached forward and tapped Peter's forehead sharply with one finger.
"You don't know how to control that. Takes time and effort and you've not put that in. But more importantly, you don't understand that. Listen, Peter, you keep thinking about your powers in terms of the individual things
( ... )
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
( ... )
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."
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
( ... )
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
( ... )
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.
( ... )
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
( ... )
"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
( ... )
I felt it when Peter broke the circle and I glanced away, receiving a stunning blow to my chest and another to my side for my trouble. Flat on my back on the mat, I blinked, staring up at Claude. "Thanks," I muttered, sarcastic, as I heaved myself up again. A sheen of sweat slicked my body and my hair was wild and frizzing out of its holder.
Claude, however, looked serene, though he was breathing heavily. He was sweaty, too; though he'd stripped down to a black v-neck t-shirt and it was apparent that his body was in prime condition. I mean, seriously. Damn. At least he showed signs of exertion. I didn't feel like such an out-of-shape slacker
( ... )
Making a quiet sound of disappointment, Peter let himself be nudged out of the kitchen and obediently made his way over to the couch. Damn, Claude was on the couch. Wrinkling his nose slightly (not that Claude was unpleasant, really, but Peter wouldn't be surprised if he got smacked just for daring to sit next to him), Peter then shuffled over to the bed and sat on the edge.
"I could sleep for a week," he announced, tipping backwards and staring at the ceiling. He hoped, when he got better at controlling everything, that pulling out abilities one after the other wouldn't be so tiring.
But, despite being tired, Peter was also feeling way too energetic. In mind, at least. He was still fairly excited over the way he'd managed to manifest the radioactive power, and that was energizing in itself. So he hauled himself upwards again and wandered into the kitchen, looking over Rachel's shoulder at what she was cooking.
"Hey, thanks," he spoke up quietly. "For your support back in there, I mean. It really helped."
"That's because you have the mental control of a week-old kitten," Claude shouted to Peter, shooting me a smirk when I snorted softly.
Draining the pasta, I ignored Claude's humming as I shook the moisture from it and dumped it back in the pan. I felt rather than saw Peter come up behind me, and it was a struggle to not just lean back up against him. But Peter wasn't Nick, nor was he Kisten, and Claude, though a huge bastard with bastard creme filling, had been right about one thing. Guys like Peter were way out of my league
( ... )
"Shut up, I'm trying my best," Peter called over his shoulder, though he didn't sound nearly as defensive as he might have sounded earlier. He'd seen Claude looking worried and proud by turns, and Peter was so pleased with this revelation (he'd thought Claude didn't really care) that any insult from the man was just going to be met with a smile right now.
Taking the spoon from Rachel with a crooked grin, Peter put on a thoughtful expression as he licked the spoon clean. "It's great," he assured, throwing the spoon into the sink. "Just enough pepper, actually." Rachel really was a great cook, and Peter made a note to thank her for that more often.
Rachel's distance didn't escape him, though. Sometimes she had no reserves about physical proximity, but right now she was holding herself away. Peter didn't know why, exactly, but this had to be rectified. Stuff Claude and his assumptions, Peter liked giving out free physical affection. So he hovered behind Rachel again, sticking his hands into his pockets and plonking his chin onto her
( ... )
Returning to Peter, Claude rubbed his face with one hand and snorted a laugh. "Right. Okay. Let's start at the bloody beginning. Empaths don't just sympathize with people, Peter. They feel. They're psychically linked to the people around them. The more you care about a person, the closer you get to them, the more their moods affect you. Sure, you have your own feelings, too, but with someone as powerful as you, it all gets muddled up in your mind," he reached forward and tapped Peter's forehead sharply with one finger.
"You don't know how to control that. Takes time and effort and you've not put that in. But more importantly, you don't understand that. Listen, Peter, you keep thinking about your powers in terms of the individual things ( ... )
Reply
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 ( ... )
Reply
"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?"
Reply
"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 ( ... )
Reply
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 ( ... )
Reply
Reply
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. ( ... )
Reply
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."
Reply
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."
Reply
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 ( ... )
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Claude, however, looked serene, though he was breathing heavily. He was sweaty, too; though he'd stripped down to a black v-neck t-shirt and it was apparent that his body was in prime condition. I mean, seriously. Damn. At least he showed signs of exertion. I didn't feel like such an out-of-shape slacker ( ... )
Reply
"I could sleep for a week," he announced, tipping backwards and staring at the ceiling. He hoped, when he got better at controlling everything, that pulling out abilities one after the other wouldn't be so tiring.
But, despite being tired, Peter was also feeling way too energetic. In mind, at least. He was still fairly excited over the way he'd managed to manifest the radioactive power, and that was energizing in itself. So he hauled himself upwards again and wandered into the kitchen, looking over Rachel's shoulder at what she was cooking.
"Hey, thanks," he spoke up quietly. "For your support back in there, I mean. It really helped."
Reply
Draining the pasta, I ignored Claude's humming as I shook the moisture from it and dumped it back in the pan. I felt rather than saw Peter come up behind me, and it was a struggle to not just lean back up against him. But Peter wasn't Nick, nor was he Kisten, and Claude, though a huge bastard with bastard creme filling, had been right about one thing. Guys like Peter were way out of my league ( ... )
Reply
Taking the spoon from Rachel with a crooked grin, Peter put on a thoughtful expression as he licked the spoon clean. "It's great," he assured, throwing the spoon into the sink. "Just enough pepper, actually." Rachel really was a great cook, and Peter made a note to thank her for that more often.
Rachel's distance didn't escape him, though. Sometimes she had no reserves about physical proximity, but right now she was holding herself away. Peter didn't know why, exactly, but this had to be rectified. Stuff Claude and his assumptions, Peter liked giving out free physical affection. So he hovered behind Rachel again, sticking his hands into his pockets and plonking his chin onto her ( ... )
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