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the_dala at 10:41am on 07/12/2006 under fic: other
the_dala at 10:41am on 07/12/2006 under fic: otherI have fallen hard for "Heroes," and for Peter and Claire in particular ::does the dance of new fandom joy:: This one contains speculation about what happens after "Fallout," but no spoilers past that (some character death, though). It is mildly shippy, but more pre-ship and Peter-centered than anything else. (And I finally found some "Heroes" icons I liked!)
First Thaw
For awhile he thought it was because he was the first one she’d met, that she’d imprinted on him like a baby chick. She couldn’t exactly go looking Hiro or Isaac up, since she didn’t even know they existed. But given his name and the Internet, it was almost inevitable that she’d show up on Nathan’s doorstep asking for Peter (and he’d caught serious shit from Nathan about it later, too, even though the papers didn’t end up running stories on the steamy underage romance between the senator-hopeful’s depressive criminal brother and a Texas high-school cheerleader as Nathan swore they would). Peter was unaware of all this, being in a coma at the time. And afterward, in the hours leading up to the blast and the long, numb days that followed, noticing the way she looked at him was not first on his list of priorities.
He kept to his room at the house for weeks after the memorial service. The rest came by frequently at first, but when Peter continued to turn them away, they gave up. Simone was the last, though she too went on her way. Claire, though – Heidi had let her stay, ostensibly to help with the boys but mostly because she still didn’t want anything to do with her father. Peter could hardly avoid her when they lived on the same floor (every now and then she’d turn a cartwheel down the hallway), used the same bathroom (she washed her hair with Heidi’s shampoo at first, before buying something that smelled like apple blossoms), ate the same cereals for breakfast (Corn Pops, sometimes frosted Cheerios, and she liked hers out of the oversized NYU mug with the chipped handle). Though he did nothing to encourage her, somehow – perhaps due to the pervasive sense of loss and grief in the house – Claire became family.
All through that long winter, he sat and stared out the window as the city froze over. Often Claire sat with him, in the armchair by the fire with bare feet tucked under her, reading for the GED class she was taking. He and Nathan had done their studying like this long ago, when Nathan was home from law school. Claire didn’t interrupt his silence the way he had always bugged Nathan, though. He’d never have thought a cheerleader would apply herself so intently.
On the first snow, she abandoned her books to build a snowman with Aaron and David, which quickly devolved into a fierce snowball fight. Peter began to feel uncomfortable about watching her laughing and tumbling in the drifts, but since he didn’t want to look away either, threw open the window and refereed from the study. Claire and David stopped in their tracks, blinking at him in surprise, while Aaron took the opportunity to lob a well-packed missile at his big brother’s face. The game went on for another forty minutes, with Heidi and Angela taking turns at evening up the teams (they’d salted the pathway first thing in the morning for the wheelchair). Claire protested his final ruling; she had cheated shamelessly and he docked points for it. Three weeks later it snowed again, even more heavily, and this time Hiro, Ando, and Micah came by to do battle. Peter moved to the stoop so he could see better.
One morning in late February, Peter woke to the distinctive scent of waffles and bacon. He wandered downstairs, yawning, to find a pink-cheeked, damp-eyed Claire sitting in front of a breakfast plate with a chocolate-frosted cupcake. He stood in the doorway while the boys twirled noisemakers and shouted the customary song at the tops of their lungs.
“Happy birthday, sweetie,” Heidi said, leaning over to drop an arm over Claire’s shoulders and kiss her cheek. Her baby sister was twenty-two, close enough to Claire’s new eighteen that it was easy to see why Heidi had taken to her.
“Thanks,” said Claire, swallowing back the tears, and he knew she must be remembering her last birthday, at home, with her parents and brother. Before she knew she was special – different.
As she blew out the candle, she glanced up at him. For a moment her emotions were laid as bare to him as her thoughts would be to Matt – hope, longing, regret and remembered sorrow. Everything that made him look away from her, from his family, from the raggedy group of survivors he had once tried so hard to bring together.
“Happy birthday, Claire,” he echoed as he held her gaze.
Her lips barely curved, matching his reserve, but her green eyes were warm. “Thank you, Peter.”
In March she disappeared for a week. Peter dreamed about it – something about a reservoir, with Mohinder holding out his hand and Nikki pacing like a stalking cat and Claire turning her face away as blood sprayed her. Unfortunately, it contained no clues about where they were. Heidi was cagey when he asked her, but it turned out she really didn’t know where Claire and the others had gone; moreover, she didn’t want to know.
“How can you say that?” Peter demanded. “After –”
Heidi set her jaw and managed to choke out, “After Nathan? My husband died a hero, Peter. If I’d tried to take that away from him – if I tried to take it away from Claire now, when I have even less of a right…”
Peter shook his head, shook the hair that had grown too long out of his eyes. “You don’t know, you don’t understand!”
“Maybe I’m not like her.” (Like you.) She crossed her arms across her lap, staring up at him, her mouth a thin line. “But I know what she can do, what she is – and the world needs people like Claire, Peter. Needs them more than we do.”
But she’s just a kid, Peter wanted to say but didn’t, because for one thing it wasn’t true, not anymore; and for another, if he said those words they would have to have an entirely different conversation. So instead he said flatly, “I’d think you wouldn’t find it so easy to sit on the sidelines while the world uses up the people you love.”
Hurt flashed in her eyes, but she was silent as she turned and moved away from him.
When Claire got back, the boys dive-bombed her before Peter had the chance to say anything. She laughed and hugged them, shrugging out of her coat. Her shirt had been washed, but not soon enough to keep the dried blood from setting in incongruous pink spots. David and Aaron ran off to fetch Heidi, giving Peter his chance.
Ignoring the mingled welcome and relief in her face, he stepped forward and took her by the arms. “What are you playing at, Claire?”
“I wasn’t playing,” she snapped, twisting a bit in his grasp. “Let go of me.”
“Where were you?” Peter demanded, still holding her fast. He couldn’t seem to make himself let go.
Her eyes went distant and cold. “If you really wanted to know, you should’ve asked us ages ago.” She rolled her shoulders, and he was so surprised to feel the flex of muscle that he turned her loose. But he grabbed her wrist as she pushed past him, and this time she broke his grip deliberately.
That night he went by her room to apologize, but she was in the shower. He leaned his forehead against the bathroom door, listening to her sobs and wishing it would snow again.
He retreated to the study, book in hand, but ended up staring at the flames in the fireplace until she came down. She was wrapped in an a fuzzy blue robe and her slippered feet made no sound on the rug. He didn’t once look at her as she told him about Brody Mitchum, about the mission they’d just gone on, about how she’d been training with Nikki and Audrey.
“Peter?” she asked when she was finished, uncertain. “Are you gonna say anything?”
Drawing in a deep breath, he replied, “Okay.” She blinked at him as he stood up and crossed the room. “Okay,” he repeated, brushing her shoulder with his fingertips. Claire reached up, but he drew away and walked out before she could touch him.
Warmer weather hit them in April, just after a late ice storm. On a particularly balmy Saturday morning, Claire got the boys ready to go to Central Park with Nikki, D.L., and Micah. To everyone’s surprise, not least of all his own, Peter asked to go with them. Claire acquiesced readily, her eyes still a bit wide; they hadn’t talked much since that night before the fire.
If D.L. and Nikki were likewise surprised to see Peter out and about, in Claire’s company, they did their best to hide it. They walked along the paths while the three boys ran ahead, politely discussing landlord woes and college football teams, avoiding more sensitive topics like where Claire went four nights out of the week or how D.L. had gotten the new scar on his neck. Spreading out a blanket at the Sheep Meadow, they shared the sandwiches Heidi had packed. Then D.L. got up to romp and throw a ball with the boys, and Nikki walked around with her camera, and Peter and Claire were left alone with the remains of the picnic.
Claire grinned as she watched the antics on display, leaning back on her elbows with her legs stretched out, blond hair shining in the sun. She caught him looking, and raised her eyebrows.
“Don’t you want to go play?” he asked, after fumbling for something else to say.
“Nah, not just now,” she replied, nibbling on the last of the grapes. “You know, this city was kind of depressing in winter, but it’s really starting to grow on me now.”
Peter flipped the ring on his soda can until it broke off and fell into the bottom. “I guess it was worth saving after all.”
She lowered her eyelashes at the bitterness in his tone. “What happened was not your fault, Peter. Every one of us had a choice, from you and me to Sylar and Ted. And Nathan.”
“What was I good for, then?” His throat worked painfully as he rolled the can in his hands. “I was supposed to save the world.”
“You saved me,” she said softly. “And you believed, Peter, before anyone else even knew what was going on – you believed for all of us.” Sitting up, she reached out to lay her hand over his clenched fist on the blanket. “There’s a reason why Hiro came back to talk to you, not himself or Mohinder.”
He closed his eyes, remembering Nathan repeatedly telling him to drop it, and remembering the conviction on his face at the end.
“We needed you then, Peter, and we need you now.” Carefully she pried his fingers open, turned his hand over so they were palm to palm. “You and Heidi lost Nathan, I lost my parents and my best friend, Hiro lost Charlie, Mohinder lost his father, Matt lost his wife – but it doesn’t mean we have to give each other up for lost, too.”
Her words were too old for her earnest young voice, and he defied anybody to resist the combination. Folding her hand in his own, he squeezed it, and was rewarded with a smile that spread across her face like springtime. Cautiously, his mouth unused to the movements after so long, he smiled back.
On the cab ride back to the house he sat behind the driver, Claire beside him with Aaron conked out on her lap, David on her other side. He stretched his arm over her shoulders to give her more room and she leaned comfortably against him. Propping his head against the dirty window, he dozed off and dreamed about flying.
First Thaw
For awhile he thought it was because he was the first one she’d met, that she’d imprinted on him like a baby chick. She couldn’t exactly go looking Hiro or Isaac up, since she didn’t even know they existed. But given his name and the Internet, it was almost inevitable that she’d show up on Nathan’s doorstep asking for Peter (and he’d caught serious shit from Nathan about it later, too, even though the papers didn’t end up running stories on the steamy underage romance between the senator-hopeful’s depressive criminal brother and a Texas high-school cheerleader as Nathan swore they would). Peter was unaware of all this, being in a coma at the time. And afterward, in the hours leading up to the blast and the long, numb days that followed, noticing the way she looked at him was not first on his list of priorities.
He kept to his room at the house for weeks after the memorial service. The rest came by frequently at first, but when Peter continued to turn them away, they gave up. Simone was the last, though she too went on her way. Claire, though – Heidi had let her stay, ostensibly to help with the boys but mostly because she still didn’t want anything to do with her father. Peter could hardly avoid her when they lived on the same floor (every now and then she’d turn a cartwheel down the hallway), used the same bathroom (she washed her hair with Heidi’s shampoo at first, before buying something that smelled like apple blossoms), ate the same cereals for breakfast (Corn Pops, sometimes frosted Cheerios, and she liked hers out of the oversized NYU mug with the chipped handle). Though he did nothing to encourage her, somehow – perhaps due to the pervasive sense of loss and grief in the house – Claire became family.
All through that long winter, he sat and stared out the window as the city froze over. Often Claire sat with him, in the armchair by the fire with bare feet tucked under her, reading for the GED class she was taking. He and Nathan had done their studying like this long ago, when Nathan was home from law school. Claire didn’t interrupt his silence the way he had always bugged Nathan, though. He’d never have thought a cheerleader would apply herself so intently.
On the first snow, she abandoned her books to build a snowman with Aaron and David, which quickly devolved into a fierce snowball fight. Peter began to feel uncomfortable about watching her laughing and tumbling in the drifts, but since he didn’t want to look away either, threw open the window and refereed from the study. Claire and David stopped in their tracks, blinking at him in surprise, while Aaron took the opportunity to lob a well-packed missile at his big brother’s face. The game went on for another forty minutes, with Heidi and Angela taking turns at evening up the teams (they’d salted the pathway first thing in the morning for the wheelchair). Claire protested his final ruling; she had cheated shamelessly and he docked points for it. Three weeks later it snowed again, even more heavily, and this time Hiro, Ando, and Micah came by to do battle. Peter moved to the stoop so he could see better.
One morning in late February, Peter woke to the distinctive scent of waffles and bacon. He wandered downstairs, yawning, to find a pink-cheeked, damp-eyed Claire sitting in front of a breakfast plate with a chocolate-frosted cupcake. He stood in the doorway while the boys twirled noisemakers and shouted the customary song at the tops of their lungs.
“Happy birthday, sweetie,” Heidi said, leaning over to drop an arm over Claire’s shoulders and kiss her cheek. Her baby sister was twenty-two, close enough to Claire’s new eighteen that it was easy to see why Heidi had taken to her.
“Thanks,” said Claire, swallowing back the tears, and he knew she must be remembering her last birthday, at home, with her parents and brother. Before she knew she was special – different.
As she blew out the candle, she glanced up at him. For a moment her emotions were laid as bare to him as her thoughts would be to Matt – hope, longing, regret and remembered sorrow. Everything that made him look away from her, from his family, from the raggedy group of survivors he had once tried so hard to bring together.
“Happy birthday, Claire,” he echoed as he held her gaze.
Her lips barely curved, matching his reserve, but her green eyes were warm. “Thank you, Peter.”
In March she disappeared for a week. Peter dreamed about it – something about a reservoir, with Mohinder holding out his hand and Nikki pacing like a stalking cat and Claire turning her face away as blood sprayed her. Unfortunately, it contained no clues about where they were. Heidi was cagey when he asked her, but it turned out she really didn’t know where Claire and the others had gone; moreover, she didn’t want to know.
“How can you say that?” Peter demanded. “After –”
Heidi set her jaw and managed to choke out, “After Nathan? My husband died a hero, Peter. If I’d tried to take that away from him – if I tried to take it away from Claire now, when I have even less of a right…”
Peter shook his head, shook the hair that had grown too long out of his eyes. “You don’t know, you don’t understand!”
“Maybe I’m not like her.” (Like you.) She crossed her arms across her lap, staring up at him, her mouth a thin line. “But I know what she can do, what she is – and the world needs people like Claire, Peter. Needs them more than we do.”
But she’s just a kid, Peter wanted to say but didn’t, because for one thing it wasn’t true, not anymore; and for another, if he said those words they would have to have an entirely different conversation. So instead he said flatly, “I’d think you wouldn’t find it so easy to sit on the sidelines while the world uses up the people you love.”
Hurt flashed in her eyes, but she was silent as she turned and moved away from him.
When Claire got back, the boys dive-bombed her before Peter had the chance to say anything. She laughed and hugged them, shrugging out of her coat. Her shirt had been washed, but not soon enough to keep the dried blood from setting in incongruous pink spots. David and Aaron ran off to fetch Heidi, giving Peter his chance.
Ignoring the mingled welcome and relief in her face, he stepped forward and took her by the arms. “What are you playing at, Claire?”
“I wasn’t playing,” she snapped, twisting a bit in his grasp. “Let go of me.”
“Where were you?” Peter demanded, still holding her fast. He couldn’t seem to make himself let go.
Her eyes went distant and cold. “If you really wanted to know, you should’ve asked us ages ago.” She rolled her shoulders, and he was so surprised to feel the flex of muscle that he turned her loose. But he grabbed her wrist as she pushed past him, and this time she broke his grip deliberately.
That night he went by her room to apologize, but she was in the shower. He leaned his forehead against the bathroom door, listening to her sobs and wishing it would snow again.
He retreated to the study, book in hand, but ended up staring at the flames in the fireplace until she came down. She was wrapped in an a fuzzy blue robe and her slippered feet made no sound on the rug. He didn’t once look at her as she told him about Brody Mitchum, about the mission they’d just gone on, about how she’d been training with Nikki and Audrey.
“Peter?” she asked when she was finished, uncertain. “Are you gonna say anything?”
Drawing in a deep breath, he replied, “Okay.” She blinked at him as he stood up and crossed the room. “Okay,” he repeated, brushing her shoulder with his fingertips. Claire reached up, but he drew away and walked out before she could touch him.
Warmer weather hit them in April, just after a late ice storm. On a particularly balmy Saturday morning, Claire got the boys ready to go to Central Park with Nikki, D.L., and Micah. To everyone’s surprise, not least of all his own, Peter asked to go with them. Claire acquiesced readily, her eyes still a bit wide; they hadn’t talked much since that night before the fire.
If D.L. and Nikki were likewise surprised to see Peter out and about, in Claire’s company, they did their best to hide it. They walked along the paths while the three boys ran ahead, politely discussing landlord woes and college football teams, avoiding more sensitive topics like where Claire went four nights out of the week or how D.L. had gotten the new scar on his neck. Spreading out a blanket at the Sheep Meadow, they shared the sandwiches Heidi had packed. Then D.L. got up to romp and throw a ball with the boys, and Nikki walked around with her camera, and Peter and Claire were left alone with the remains of the picnic.
Claire grinned as she watched the antics on display, leaning back on her elbows with her legs stretched out, blond hair shining in the sun. She caught him looking, and raised her eyebrows.
“Don’t you want to go play?” he asked, after fumbling for something else to say.
“Nah, not just now,” she replied, nibbling on the last of the grapes. “You know, this city was kind of depressing in winter, but it’s really starting to grow on me now.”
Peter flipped the ring on his soda can until it broke off and fell into the bottom. “I guess it was worth saving after all.”
She lowered her eyelashes at the bitterness in his tone. “What happened was not your fault, Peter. Every one of us had a choice, from you and me to Sylar and Ted. And Nathan.”
“What was I good for, then?” His throat worked painfully as he rolled the can in his hands. “I was supposed to save the world.”
“You saved me,” she said softly. “And you believed, Peter, before anyone else even knew what was going on – you believed for all of us.” Sitting up, she reached out to lay her hand over his clenched fist on the blanket. “There’s a reason why Hiro came back to talk to you, not himself or Mohinder.”
He closed his eyes, remembering Nathan repeatedly telling him to drop it, and remembering the conviction on his face at the end.
“We needed you then, Peter, and we need you now.” Carefully she pried his fingers open, turned his hand over so they were palm to palm. “You and Heidi lost Nathan, I lost my parents and my best friend, Hiro lost Charlie, Mohinder lost his father, Matt lost his wife – but it doesn’t mean we have to give each other up for lost, too.”
Her words were too old for her earnest young voice, and he defied anybody to resist the combination. Folding her hand in his own, he squeezed it, and was rewarded with a smile that spread across her face like springtime. Cautiously, his mouth unused to the movements after so long, he smiled back.
On the cab ride back to the house he sat behind the driver, Claire beside him with Aaron conked out on her lap, David on her other side. He stretched his arm over her shoulders to give her more room and she leaned comfortably against him. Propping his head against the dirty window, he dozed off and dreamed about flying.
excited
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