It's Not Suicide If It Doesn't Stick

[chimeramimicry]

"It's Not Suicide If It Doesn't Stick"
Who: Peter, Peter, Nathan
When: The younger Peter believes his older self is dead.


I didn't really know him.  Except I did.  He's me.  Or was me.  I can't help how losing him makes me feel.

Sylar's gone.  Smashed up.  Mohinder really came through there and together, we managed to get the other me out of the apartment and int othe back of his cab.  I don't really know where to take him except--  I give Mohinder my address and somehow we get him upstairs before anyone notices something weird and we have to play Weekend at Bernie's.

Not sure how I'd handle puppetting a dead me, honestly.

Mohinder leaves, scarred and confused and Peter's bleeding on my couch.  I think about calling Nathan, but I can't.  No one can ever know the way I'm going to eventually go.

Comments

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

Peter snorts, going in the bathroom to clean up the clothes. He sets the water running warm in the sink and lets them soak. Oh, they're ruined, but he'd rather clean them as much as he can before tossing them. His 'brother,' his other self will find fresh jeans and a t-shirt in their stead on the toilet when he gets finished cleaning his skin.

"We don't talk about it," Peter says before he moves out of the bathroom. "Probably better that way. All he cares about is that stupid campaign of his."

[fallen-empath.livejournal.com]

"Yeah, well, that's Nathan," Peter replies bitterly, drying himself with the towel his younger self has left for him. "It only interests him if it's in his best interest."

He gets dressed in the clothes that belong to his younger self, a strange feeling surging through him while he does so. It's an echo, almost. His brother loved him. He knows that like he knows his middle name. So why won't Nathan admit that his little brother is more than just an insignificance in the grand scheme of things? This is something he can change too. He has to.

Peter bursts out of the bathroom and tears other Peter away from his video game.

"You've got to make him talk. Make him listen. You can make him do anything, don't you get it? You can do anything!"

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

Peter screws his lips shuts and crosses his arms over his chest. "Make him talk? I can't make him return phone calls and there's no way in hell we're going back to his office after last time." Yeah, it's nice to have someone tell you that you have power, but Peter knows it isn't true.

He might not give in to his brother quite so much anymore, but he absolutely isn't to any sort of level of taking charge.

Gazing at the controller in his other self's hands, Peter flicks his wrist and brings it back into his own hand. Okay, seriously useful skill. "It's for the best. He's safe. He'll be in congress soon. What else do you want?"

[fallen-empath.livejournal.com]

"Yeah, you're right. Never mind him. Hey, that was pretty good," Peter says about other Peter's telekinetic display, changing the subject. "Try it with something heavier."

He goes over to the bookcase and selects a biology textbook, a hefty volume of Shakespeare, (no, he won't admit to anyone but himself he likes poetry) and a gaming manual for Final Fantasy 8. He drops them on the coffee table.

"Go ahead. Push them over to me without dropping anything." He stands across the room about ten feet away, almost in the kitchen.

Peter can feel it, that his younger self isn't confident enough to get right in Nathan's face and make him pay attention. But he himself is living proof that other Peter will get there one day. He'll just have to build him up.

Hands-on training, a little bit like Yoda teaching Luke Skywalker how to use the Force. The thought makes him want to laugh, but he doesn't dare.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

He doesn't have to. They think alike, mostly, and Peter's go the same ideas as his older self. After doing such menial tasks as book floating -- he sends them over Peter's head and back to the book shelf -- and chair wrangling (his apartment turns almost too Feng Sui for a few minutes), he simply has to ask Master Yoda if he can be a Jedi now.

The grin is short lived. "I don't like that one," he says with vague uncertainty. "I don't like how I have to feel."

It's not just thinking about the power user, not completely. It's more about feeling it and Peter's never been a murderer. Even if video games, he avoids it if possible. He always had such trouble in Final Fantasy, selecting the run away options, and never managed to have the money to buy upgrades.

[fallen-empath.livejournal.com]

Peter shakes his head, not because he doesn't understand, but because he does. He remembers how that felt, not wanting to use it because of the emotional cast-off that came with it. Sylar was, and still is, his mortal enemy. No, maybe not because Peter can't die. His antithesis. He's not going to say 'nemesis' because that sounds too comic-booky, and there's nothing fantastical about this.

Nathan taught him that necessity overrides emotion any day of the week. It doesn't matter how you feel when you're doing the things you know need to be done.

"All right, then forget that one. We should try flying again. Don't try to throttle me this time."

Peter flings open the window with TK again -- it's really very useful! -- and picks other Peter up and leads him right to it.

"Show me you can do it without my help. Like I did with Nathan," he adds, without even really meaning to.

God, he's really screwing this up, isn't he?

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

Peter glances at his other self and smirks. "You're really ruining time lines aren't you? Spock wouldn't be happy at all." Peter's not a Star Trek fan at all, he's not really into science fiction unless it's been drawn and in panel form. And even then-- He prefers modern day stories. He likes Spiderman over Superman, despite the radioactive spider. Peter Parker's not an alien.

He's just genetically different from other humans.

Like he is! And yeah, Peter never gets tired of drawing comparisons between himself and his favorite comic book hero. And he likes to show off too. So, out the window he goes. He doesn't really care to feel the things his brother makes him feel at the moment either, so he flounders a bit before he catches himself and takes off.

[fallen-empath.livejournal.com]

Peter follows behind slowly, watching his younger self as he finds his wings, the ones his brother gave him, and he marvels at how hard his other self fights against it, so hard he almost falters.

But other Peter does as he's been instructed, just as he might do if Nathan were in his place. And that hurts. Nathan should be here, putting his two cents in. This isn't Peter's job. He's been through this before! Why is he saving himself from it? How can Peter learn what he knows if he teaches him otherwise?

His head spins from the discontinuity of it all, but nevertheless, he speeds up behind his younger self, catching up to him easily. He's flown many a mile without Nathan to help him or hold him back, that's for sure. Maybe other Peter just doesn't understand this yet.

Peter dips downward and seizes other Peter's wrist, halting his flight and effectively interrupting whatever's going through his other self's mind mind at the moment.

"He loves you, don't you get that?" he cries. "Why do you think I'm doing this? I'm trying to help you! I don't want you to make the same mistakes I did!"

The mistakes that killed him, Peter agonizes, pulling his other self close.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

Being jerked out of flight is startling but to suddenly be clung to like that? He struggles at first, and while he's sure he can get away if he needs to, Peter will pursue him. He can't get away permanently and it's dawning on him, now, that his older self is probably unhinged.

He really doesn't want to hear about their tryst, his older self and the brother that died. "I know he loves me, he's my brother!" Yes, Peter's well aware of just who that 'he' is. It's the only thing that's ever on his other self's mind. "I love him too... And I'm sorry you lost him and what you had, I am, honestly, you know that--"

He swallows.

"Peter, you're hurting me..." And then the hug. That horrible, sad hug. He snuffles lightly against his neck and exhales slowly, tugging himself closer as well. "I'm sorry. I don't know what you want from me..."

[fallen-empath.livejournal.com]

Those soft words, spoken in his own voice but coming from the person in front of him, are like a shot to the chest. He knows that there's only one Peter Petrelli here, hovering in mid-air over the East River, who just doesn't get it. And it's himself.

He was so intent on this being the right place and the right time that he never really paid attention to the fact that this version of himself is normal and not incredibly twisted like he is. Or maybe he just didn't want to see it, didn't want to admit he was fighting a losing battle.

He hasn't stopped anything. Peter will go back, and everything will be as it was before. The thought is devastating, and his limbs go slack, his head dropping to other Peter's shoulder. If other Peter weren't here, he would go plummeting straight to earth, die on impact, and then pick himself up from the wreckage without a scratch.

Peter is tired, and death, permanent death, would be a relief.

But that isn't his fate.

"I don't -- I don't really know," Peter replies finally, pulling back, placing his hands carefully on his other self's shoulders. "I don't know anything anymore, and I'm sorry."

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

It's hard to keep up with what's going on anymore. Peter looked into his own eyes and just sees a whole lot of darkness and a lost sense of loneliness he really can't manage to identify. It scares him to think that he might become this way too. 

Peter sets a hand on his older version's cheek and lightly thumbs under his eye. 

"Let's go back. Have another beer. C'mon."