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Westchester County: the place where people go to hide. At least that's the impression Sue got from her brother after his foray into Westchester. And so here she is, in Westchester, at the most renowned bar in town. And thus far people haven't paid her too much attention, much to her relief. She sits at the bar with a half-finished bottle of merlot sitting in front of her. Her glass is given a fleeting glance and her pointer finger carefully runs around the rim producing a very musical sound.
Besides looking like, well, Sue Storm, she's dressed in a navy dress, ankles crossed as she stares blankly at the wall in front of her. The palm tree wallpaper seems to accept her subdued depression. She lifts the glass to her lips only to frown. It's empty again.
The bottle is lifted, and the glass is filled.
A middle aged gentleman sits beside her and looks at the glass. "Drinking alone, honey?"
Sue's expression sours at the word honey, but she can't bring herself to do anything else. She's lost the will to scold.
*
When the doors open to admit one more, it's really nothing new. People come in and out of Harry's all the time, and at all hours.
Most people are not as massive as the most recent arrival, however; he has to physically duck in order to avoid banging his head as he comes through the doorway. The hostess doesn't seem surprised to see him, though a touch by the way he holds up a hand before she can offer him a booth. Bar seating today.
Once Piotr has actually reached the bar, the logo on the chest of his heather gray t-shirt becomes legible: the Xavier Institute.
He casts a curious look down the length of the bar and takes note of the pair a short ways away, but doesn't butt in. Yet, anyway.
*
The middle-aged man slides closer to Sue, "Honey, no one should have to drink alone. Surely you want some company. A cherry blossom of your origin should never have to be in such solitude."
Sue's gaze deadens. Her eyes continue to face forward as she stares at her glass of red wine. She brings the fluid to her lips and takes a discerning sip. The glass is returned to the counter. Her lips edge downwards and she finally turns to face him. "Sir. Please do not mistake my sitting at the bar as an invitation for company."
"Oh honey, you have such a sense of humour. Any woman alone wills for some company."
Sue rolls her eyes.
*
That's all the invitation Piotr needs.
Rather than speak up, he simply straightens up and — surprisingly quietly, for a man his size — makes his way down the bar, coming to a stop just behind the middle-aged gentleman. Piotr takes a moment to make sure he is standing very much straight, his shoulders square, before he softly clears his throat — not at the man or at Sue, but at the bartender.
"Lou. One of my usual," Piotr rumbles. And, after acknowledgement: "Spasiba."
*
The gentleman doesn't turn around for several beats. He remains where he is for several beats. But then, like an animal sensing danger, he very slowly turns around to watch Piotr, his eyes widening as he moves.
Sue's head cants to spy Piotr, her eyebrows lifting in response to the large Russian behind her harasser. The middle aged man clears his throat expectantly, yet Piotr's attention is on the bartender.
As the bartender responds, the middle-aged man slides off his seat to tread back down the bar.
Amusement tugs Sue's lips upwards as the man trails off, and she looks up at Piotr and then to the seat next to her. "Care to join me?" she offers. "I think I may owe you that drink — " she notes as she sucks on her bottom lip.
*
Perfect posture, facing forward — only after the man begins to move away does Piotr shift enough to let his eyes follow him as he retreats. Good.
Immediately, his shoulders relax and he turns to offer Sue a warm, almost apologetic smile. "Only if you are certain you want the company," Piotr replies, lifting one of his hands. "There is nothing wrong with drinking alone."
He casts a look down the bar, pursing his lips in thought. "…though I am also happy to act as a… what is the word. Buffer?"
*
Sue smirks. "Oh, I know that. Sometimes drinking alone is the only way to drink." A world-weary smile forces her features upwards. "Actually, I'd appreciate the buffer. I'm —" she ponders the thought " — needing time away from…" she frowns slightly "… life I guess." Her eyebrows lift. "And I wouldn't mind the company — as long as it's not actively motivated by…" she hmmms and ponders a polite phrase, "well. That." Her gaze shifts to the middle aged man who had sat next to her.
"Sincerely though. That drink is on me." She turns to face him, "I'm Sue."
*
"Piotr. Do not worry — I do not wish to give my girlfriend any excuses to be angry with me." He smiles lopsidedly and invites himself to the stool next to Sue's, like a dutiful buffer.
The bartender gets a friendly smile when his bottle of beer is dropped off, and then Piotr is returning his foucs to Sue. "I am sorry to hear you need the time away," he says with a sympathetic furrow to his brow. "I am told I am a good listener, if it would help? Or," he's quick to add, lifting a shoulder, "I can not listen, too."
*
Sue chuckles. "I'm sure she'd be glad to hear you want to stay in her good graces." The smile extends and she sips at her red wine. "Then I'm glad to have you pull up a seat, Piotr." Her pronunciation isn't awful, and there's no question she makes the effort.
Her head tilts uncertainly as she contemplates the question. Merriment fades from her eyes and she lifts her glass to her lips, taking a long deep breath to smell, rather than drink, her wine. She holds the breath a few beats and then forces a near-smile that has no merriment, no joy — just the polite poise exercised by one used to living int he spotlight. "I — I… don't know," she frowns lightly as her shoulders sink. "Work problems. And, I suppose, by extension, family problems." Her fingers play at the stem of her glass. "But mostly work problems." Her eyes flit towards Piotr, "I came to Wrestchester for… respite, I suppose. I'm not sure I'm finding it." Pause. "Perhaps when I reach the bottom of the bottle," her eyes glance towards the emptying bottle.
*
"This sounds very familiar." Piotr does not presume to offer Sue a commiseratory pat on the shoulder, but he does reach over to lightly pat the bar counter next to her in much the same way, his mouth quirked into a wry smile. "I hope you are able to find what you are looking for. If you do, point it out to me," he adds with a note of hope in his voice.
*
The glass is lifted to clink against Piotr's bottle. "May we both find a sense of — " her head shakes slightly " — peace seems like a pipe dream," she murmurs as her eyes roll dramatically. She scoffs at her dramatization and her eyes settle on the red fluid in her glass. "So, you're from Westchester?" She eyes his shirt for several beats. "I had," her eyebrows draw together, "a friend come here. Mind, he's a bit…" her lips twist to the side, "ostentatious at times. Apparently a young woman told him people here don't want attention. That true?"
*
Piotr is happy to — carefully — clink his bottle against Sue's glass, with a very sympathetic chuckle at the note regarding peace. Yeah, no, that isn't going to happen.
"By way of elsewhere," Piotr rumbles with just a touch of amusement, his eyes dropping to his drink. "But I do live here now. It is… mm. Many come here for the quiet," he admits, thoughtfully rubbing his nose. "Or to disappear. I suppose."
*
A hum of appreciation indicates Sue knows something of wanting quiet. Her lips twitch as she studies the colour of her wine — holding the glass up a little higher to see the light through it. She gives the glass a quick swirl to admire the fluid's legs and then, once more, takes a sip of the dark red wine. "I suppose," she smiles tightly, "that disappearing has its merit. We make choices as to where we want to be — where we can handle being." The smile disappears. "And sometimes we can drift away from… everything." Her lips purse. "If you could run from your troubles… would you?"
*
"Technically, nothing is stopping me," Piotr replies with a wry smile. He rests an elbow on the bar and props his cheek up with his hand, watching Sue as he considers the question. His smile fades a touch. "I had the opportunity," he admits quietly. "Not to run away, but to… not come back. But I could not." His mouth twists to one side, shoulders raising briefly in place of an actual shrug.
*
Sue turns her head to study Piotr. A stitch of a smile plays on her lips, and she nods almost knowingly. "What…" her voice drops to a whisper. "What brought you back? What told you that this life," she nods towards his bottle, "with all of its crises, troubles, and weight was one you should come back to? What drew you back?" Pause. "And why?"
*
"My baby sister," Piotr admits, looking up from his drink with a very small, sad smile. "I was worried for her. I thought that she needed me. Still do," he says with a slight wave of his drink to acknowledge the correction. "There are my friends, too, and now Katya." The aformentioned girlfriend, no doubt, judging by the way he smiles when he says the name. "But at the time, it was… fear. Really."
*
Sue's own smile falters. She guzzles the rest of her glass. The wine glass is returned to the bar and she pours the rest of the bottle in it. One bottle. One night. There's a chance she might yet order another. Jury is still out.
"Family complicate matters," she whispers softly. Her pointer finger runs along the rim of the glass, producing a lovely sound. "I'm glad you have people to make it worthwhile." Her eyebrows draw together. "I do too." She shrugs. "But how do you know it's enough? That you're enough?"
*
Piotr's bottle is as yet untouched. He'll get to it, eventually.
"I do not," Piotr replies quietly, that sad smile still on his face. "They try to tell me that I am enough, and that I belong here. But I see the way strangers cross the street when they see me coming. The warmth that leaves their faces after I speak." He drops his eyes to the bartop. "I suppose I do not want to admit defeat without having truly tried."
*
"People here are odd when it comes to immigrants," Sue offers in return. "My brother and I moved here when we were young." Her lips turn downwards. "We lost our parents in the war and came to live with our aunt in California. But over a decade later people still will us to be white."
She hums again. "Perhaps some people are destined to never be enough," she sips her wine. "Or maybe their efforts can't measure up to what they need to succeed at."
*
Piotr finally brings his bottle up for a drink, his brow creasing in consideration. After a long, long moment of quiet, he lifts his eyes to regard Sue with a very thoughtful look over the top of his drink. "Depends. Who determines what is enough?"
*
"Ghosts," Sue whispers to her wine. It's a simple answer and one that haunts her constantly. Goosebumps form along her arms and down her legs. Shivers creep up her spine as they form down her neck. The fluid is given a swirl and she brings the wine to her lips.
*
Perhaps surprisingly, Piotr gives a nod, lips drawn back into a grim line. There's a level of understanding in his eyes that can't be feigned.
"The trouble with ghosts is they are…" Piotr trails off, a faint scowl coming to his face. Word. What is the word? "…vague?" No, that isn't it. This is really hurting his gravitas. He puffs up his cheeks in frustration and hangs his head. "…point is, goal posts are easy to keep moving out of reach."
*
"They're terrible," Sue murmurs softly. "And the echoes of the lives they reflect are long gone." Her eyes lid lightly. "I'm Korean," she offers lowly. "We see ourselves as invariably indebted to our parents. I'm not sure my brother feels it so acutely, but I do. I live with this tether around my neck, dragging me on. Telling me how I should live and work. They whisper in my ears telling me what to do."
"And I," her voice cracks, but she opens her eyes and just shakes her head. No. Emotions will not get the better of her. "I know I failed them. I failed that debt. I owed them for much and I… disappointed them."r
*
A quiet, pensive rumble comes from the russian's throat. Piotr casts a quick look around the room before he leans closer to Sue, dropping his voice down to a quiet, low murmur.
"I recognize you," he admits quietly. "The things that you and your brother have accomplished? That you are alive and healthy, doing good things?" Piotr raises his eyebrows slightly. "I do not think any reasonable parent would be disappointed."
*
"It's kind of you to say, but no amount of good things can make up for this level of bad," Sue offers in turn. She takes another long sip of her wine. "I'm reminded of my failings as a good Korean girl on a nearly daily basis." Her lips press into a thin line. "But those pale compared to my failings as a scientist." Her lips twitch into a wry smile, "I'm always the one telling our team to be responsible. Irony, that." Her jaw tightens.
*
That gets another quiet rumble from Piotr. "That does not sound good. Should I ask if you would like to talk about it?" he says carefully, before he gestures towards her drink with a slight raise of an eyebrow. "Or should I just offer to buy you another?"
*
An exasperated sigh has Sue's head resting on the bar in front of her. "Just buy me another," she murmurs to the bar sadly. "There are some things we can't fix. We need to be responsible for what we put into the world. Whether that's energy, an image," a very public one as the case may be, "or something we create. We are responsible for how other people use that as well. Not just ourselves. Create that which benefits. Not that which harms. Live for that which helps, not that which hurts."
*
"You cannot be responsible for the actions of other people," Piotr asides to her even as he turns to flag the bartender down. The lady would like another, and so he will… add it to his tab. He'll be good for it. Eventually. He hopes. "Once something is out of your hands, it is out of your hands."
*
"But you are responsible for what you create," Sue replies quietly. "You are responsible for thinking about, or not thinking about, how people could warp it. And you are responsible for considering what could be done." She tilts her head to look up at Piotr. "It's not enough to create something and hope for the best. Scientists have an ethical obligation to consider the implications of what they create: the good, the bad, and the ugly."
*
"Perhaps. But no one is…" Damn it, again. Word. Piotr pinches the bridge of his nose and mutters a quiet "vsevedushchiy" under his breath, closing his eyes as if it will help him find a proper translation. "…you cannot see every possibility yourself," he finally settles for, opening his eyes again. "You do your best, and if someone tries to… to pervert that? You try to fix it."
*
Sue's hands clasp lightly. "Only if you are in a position to do so," she murmurs quietly in reply. "Not everyone can fix things. Not everything is fixable. And even if it could be fixed, knowing that you contributed to something vile…" her eyebrows draw together. "Well." Her lips tighten into a near smile.
*
Piotr is beginning to think she might need something stronger to drink, but he is not going to be the one to suggest it. "Why would you be unable to?" he asks instead, returning his chin to its place in his hand, propped up as he studies her with a worried frown. "Is… friends, perhaps? Could you call upon help?"
*
"Can I get… whiskey?" Sue asks the bartender, who readily complies. Her head remains pressed to the bar. And her cheeks begin to flush. She's finished a bottle of wine. And she's not done for the night. It'll be a miracle if she can get home. "…not this time," she mumbles softly. "As Reed said," whether or not Piotr knows who Reed is, "we have an image. We can't draw attention."
*
He recognized her — Piotr knows who Reed is. By reputation, at least. He just smiles wryly and offers a quiet 'ah,' taking a moment to drain the rest of his bottle. When the bartender returns with Sue's whiskey, he trades the empty bottle across. "That, I can very much understand. I am sorry."
*
The whiskey is regarded with a wrinkle of Sue's nose and a frown. She finally brings it to her lips and takes a long swig only to force it down with the burn. She coughs hard at the first blush. "Who drinks this sludge?" she murmurs. But it does the job. The burn actually feels kind of good in a way; she's pretty sure Johnny would be ashamed. "It's fine. We make decisions. We wanted to influence legislation and help folks be comfortable with… people like us. It's a choice."
*
"Sometimes it feels like a very stupid choice," Piotr notes in a low, rumbling grumble. He rests his chin in both hands now, sighing as he peers dully at a spot on the wall beyond the bar. "An understandable choice. I do not know if there is a better one to be made. But still. Infuriating, at times."
*
"It is," Sue agrees slowly. "We live how we live to make things better. And maybe we don't always, but we certainly try. And while I had good intentions, others used pieces of it to — " She takes another swig of the whiskey, prompting more coughing. "We make other choices too." Her eyes flit towards Piotr. With her liquored up self, she can feel confessions coming on, and what does it matter — she doesn't know him anyways. "I… made a choice when the Fantastic Four started. I would protect the group. I would keep us together. I would minimize discord. I would sacrifice anything and everything to ensure — " she frowns.
*
As she gets going, Piotr shifts in his seat to rest his cheek in his hand instead, letting him look at her while she speaks. There is no judgment or worry in his expression, not even when she coughs on the whiskey. Just patient, quiet sympathy. Even when she cuts off, all he does is raise both of his eyebrows in silent question, encouraging her to go on.
*
Sue stares at the glass in front of her. "I met Reed Richards when I was an undergrad student. He was my TA. I had this intense, undeniable schoolgirl crush on him," her lips turn upwards at the memory. "And while I've always worked hard, I worked harder than anyone to get him to notice me. I spent more energy polishing my assignments and thinking through ideas than would be considered remotely practical. Even for a minority woman in the sciences. We have to work harder, but I did a depth of work that — " Her head shakes and her eyes roll at her own silliness. Her eyes flit back to Piotr. "It's sad. Truly pathetic. That was nearly five years ago. When we started our family, when we made a choice to be who we are, I made a promise to prioritize the group. To deny any of those ridiculous thoughts or feelings. And…" her eyebrows draw together "…yet last week I did it again. I did everything in my power to ensure he noticed me." Her smile weakens. "And I'm left in the same loop. That same uncertainty. That place where these tensions need to be worked out."
She frowns again. "And now I've disappointed all of them and they don't even know. It's my job to keep us accountable. I keep us afloat. I… I always have. I am not the one who — " her eyes clamp shut. "My work was warped. It was used exactly how it wasn't intended. But I should've had some foresight. Just because we can do something doesn't mean we should." Her eyes turn back to the glass. "Shelley's Frankenstein demonstrates that. Just because we can create something vile doesn't mean we should. Science is not dispassionate. It requires passion. It requires foresight. It requires people like me to see that a ray gun is a bad idea."
*
For a while there, it was starting to sound suspiciously like something Piotr might be willing to offer advice on. He may still. But he doesn't interrupt when the topic veers sharply back into territory he has no expertise in whatsoever and he finds himself frowning thinly, his brow drawn low over his eyes. "…I see. I am sorry," he says quietly. "I cannot imagine what that must feel like." He purses his lips, thinking for a moment. "Do you know who did this?" he asks, head tilting slightly. "I know someone who is very good at punching things. And his weekend is open."
*
A small frown tugs at Sue's features again, "It's already been dealt with as much as it can for the time being." She raises a hand, "At least, as I understand it." Her lips purse lightly and she inhales a deep breath. "And I know it's not just my work, but what surprises me is I had no idea that it could be so warped. I had no concept of it. Just the vague notion that I was doing something to help my friends. To help my family." She smirks, "Everyone thinks Johnny is the one who has no foresight. No. It's me. I'm the short-sighted Storm." She issues him a small smile, "But thank you for the offer. If it were a matter of punching things, I'm uniquely positioned to enter almost anywhere and destroy… stuff. While we have an image, I can be very difficult to see."
*
"Well. If that ever changes." Piotr offers her a small smile and lightly taps the bar, raising his eyebrows slightly. "Piotr."
His head still propped up in his other hand, Piotr thoughtfully drums his fingers against the side of his face. "…would it be too presumptuous to offer you advice on the other matter?" he asks, one eye squinting slightly in a wince. Lord, what is he doing.
*
"Piotr," Sue repeats with a nod and a smile. "I'll keep that in mind." Her head tilts at the question, and her eyebrows lift expectantly. "Sure. Advice away. That's what bars," she knocks on the one in front of her, "are for."
*
"I thought they were for getting drunk. I have been doing this all wrong." Which… honestly, he kind of has. Piotr is large. It's difficult for him to get drunk, so he rarely tries.
Piotr's eyes flick off to the side. He'd been doing such a good job of maintaining eye contact before. "I do not know him, of course," he says slowly. "His reputation, but that is not same. And your situation is not our situation. But I can tell you that even though I suspected her interest in me, we were…" He pauses, and laughs. "…honestly, kind of bullied into going out. Not bullied. Tricked. I was too timid and she did not think I was interested."
*
A smile edges Sue's lips. There's appreciation for this story even if the situation varies somewhat. She hums quietly. "So other people saw that the pair of you got together?" Her eyebrows lift expectantly. "Interesting. You must have some rather emboldened friends. I take it the risk has been balanced by the reward?" She clucks her tongue. "So, what's your advice then?"
*
"I think they worried I was too stupid to notice she was interested." Piotr can't help rolling his eyes, but at least he's still smiling. "So, they pushed. It is still a little irritating, but… yes. It was worth it." That, he feels no need to qualify.
He drums his fingers against his cheek again, humming softly. "Part of it was I had been afraid to lose what was there," Piotr admits, finally dragging his eyes back to Sue. "Perhaps he feels this way and just needs to be reassured, or… pushed." He smiles wryly. "Or just asked."
*
A stitch of a smile follows Piotr's thoughts. Sue hums again and nods once. "It's not quite that I think he's wholly indifferent towards me. There are moments of complete clarity that suggest something exists between us, yet," now she frowns. "I have tensions in my life for good reason. We have people who would assume we not do what we do. We have people who hate what we are. And it's very public. I need this little family to have… balance. It's not perfect, and my — " her eyebrows draw together and she freezes. "It's not a crush anymore, but I can't qualify it. My life isn't perfect by any stretch. I have pieces I would seek to change, but it is balanced. And that balance is tenuous — " she frowns lightly. " — it teeters like a scale. Anything to tip it over could upset that place."
*
"Would that be so bad? You do not seem happy, the way things are now," Piotr observes gently, raising his eyebrows at her. "I cannot imagine that your family -" Her words, so he's going to use them as well, "- cannot tell that you are unhappy. They may just not know why. Already, it may not be so balanced as you think."
*
It's unusual to make Sue pause and think about her circumstances. She's so aware of her role in the Fantastic Four and what she contributes to the group, that she doesn't often get people truly giving her pause. Her jaw tightens and she polishes off the last of her whiskey before offering rather noncommittally, "Maybe." But there's a very small smile that follows the single word answer.
*
"You do not have to do anything, of course," Piotr notes with a small smile of his own, still watching her with his head in his hand. "But if things remain as they are and you are still unhappy…" He lets the words trail off and just raises his eyebrows in another shrug.
*
A smile draws Sue's features upwards and she nods once, all-too-knowingly. "Thank you, Piotr." She reaches out to squeeze his hand once. "You've helped. Maybe more than you know." Or maybe it was the combination of things. "And I have a lot to think about." She reaches into her shoulder bag and leaves a few bills on the bar as she gets the bartender's attention, "For his tab. Please." Her eyebrows arch upwards and she hops off the stool somewhat unstably. "I should call it for today…" a bottle of wine and a glass of whiskey and she's toast. And all too aware of it. Her judgment is most definitely in question. "Take care of yourself, Piotr. I hope your situation finds some semblance of peace. Even if it's not today." And even though she has no idea what it is.