New Fic: Heroes/Thoughtcrimes
May. 8th, 2007 03:32 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mf_luder_xfSpring has finally hit Minnesota!! IMHO, spring doesn't start until the flowers blossom and today it just hit. The air is suddenly laced with lilacs and cran-apple petals. It's a light, intoxicating smell.
So, in honor of spring (or rather, my impending absence), and avoidance of my last paper of the semester, I have a not-so-spring-like fic for you all.
ETA: This is a newer version of the original first part. It has been edited and made (I hope) better.
Title: Things That Are (1/2)
Author: MF Luder
Fandom: Heroes/Thoughtcrimes
Keywords: crossover, gen, future!fic
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Five Years Gone
Disclaimer: Heroes is owned by NBC and created by Tim Kring, Thoughtcrimes was produced by USA Network.
Archive: My LJ, anywhere else, please just let me know so I can visit on occasion.
Summary: Five years after the bomb goes off, Freya finds herself still hiding what she is, and still working for the NSA. She discovers a friend who has been gone for some time, but he’s lost, even to himself. Can she ever get him back his memories?
Feedback: Mulder_Loves_Scully_Forever@hotmail.com
Author's Notes: Erm, forgive the inclusion of an inside joke shared with a person who will never, ever read this. I also included my own little explanation for why everyone could stand directly in front of the nuclear bomb blast and not die of radiation.
Beta Thanks:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
dearjoanwallace was kind enough to help me out. Thanks so much!
“Here you go, Bennet,” Freya McAllister said as she walked into the tiny office, handing the man a small file. “Found another family for you. They were already in hiding, but not well enough. Little boy has telekinesis.”
“Thanks, Freya,” the thin man nodded, distracted as he reviewed a piece of paper.
She nodded back before heading into the hallway, absent-mindedly listening for any suspicious thoughts.
She had been at this for five years now. Well, more, if one counted the whole time she’s worked for the National Security Agency. But it had been five years for Bennet and she couldn’t help but think they’d done little to nothing. It was a new world, but it sure as hell wasn’t a brighter one.
When the bomb went off in New York and Nathan Petrelli ascended to the Oval Office, she’d hoped something good could come out of it. She had met Nathan once, two years before the bomb, at a party hosted by his family. She was there as part of his father’s service detail and in the ten minutes she’d spoken to him, she had been both turned off…and turned on. He was as slippery as any politician, his words never saying what he truly meant. But while his thoughts displayed a cunning mind, they also displayed conviction and good intent.
It didn’t happen, though. Instead, he signed that despicable bill into law. At that point she’d been grateful that only three believable people had ever known about her “gift”: Harper, Dr. Michael Welles, and Brendan. Harper had kept his mouth shut when the edict came down, too dependant on her skills to want to turn her in. Brendan…she hadn’t seen him since the bomb. She didn’t even know if he was still alive. The good doctor--her mentor--had died two days after the bomb from radiation sickness. Before taking her secret to the grave, Michael had handed her a slip of paper with a single name: Bennet.
And so she had continued to work for the NSA, just under a different capacity.
She and Bennet had found hundreds of children since that fateful day when President Petrelli betrayed an eighth of the nation--more, worldwide. And now he was going to announce a cure? His chief science advisor, Mohinder Suresh, might be good, but he couldn’t know more than Michael who had devoted his life to finding and helping telepaths like her. Seeing the structure and knowing the framework didn’t mean a person understood it.
Gonna get what’s coming to him…
Can’t wait to get home to my wife…
Ellie, God, I wish you were here…
Wow, that hamburger’s really disagreeing with me…
Dum, dum, dum, dum, dum, dum…
Freya couldn’t help the small grin that escaped when she heard Agent Mully humming the theme song from the old The X-Files TV show. Especially when he was so consumed by the song in his head, he didn’t notice the doorframe wasn’t as large as he thought it was.
…Peter Petrelli…
She whipped around upon hearing that thought. The President’s brother hadn’t been seen in a few years. Word had it he was secretly working with Hiro Nakamura, though she highly doubted it. Peter had never been one for terrorist attacks. She’d met him at the same party when she met Nathan and Peter’d come across as shy and almost whiny, but passionate about people. Then again, people changed. Especially in times like this.
She listened, but the thought was gone. She had, however, caught the man who’d thought it. Matt Parkman. What was he doing in Texas? He knew. He had to know something. They needed Peter more than ever, now.
~~~
She slunk into the tacky strip bar which seemed to be Peter’s choice of hang out, according to locals. It had been relatively easy to find him once she’d located the town where he was living--hard to miss a guy with a scar across his entire face.
It was early and she wasn’t expecting to see Peter for awhile still. She wasn’t even sure what she was looking for. An ally? Vindication? To know why he wasn’t in DC trying to knock some sense into his brother’s head?
She ordered a club soda and settled in to wait.
Class act tonight. Damn, that Jessica’s fine.
Why did she leave me, I can’t believe she left…
…I hate my life…
Scooby-Dooby Doo, where are you…
No. It couldn’t be. Not here. Here of all places…
Freya stood and walked towards a corner booth , clouded in shadow, even mid-day.
“Brendan?” she breathed the question.
Dooby-Doo…Did someone call my name? Nah, must be hearing things, no one knows that name, I’m not him anymore…Where are you…
“Brendan.” She spoke louder this time, and his eyes snapped to hers.
He looked like a something the cat dragged in. She remembered the first time she met him: tie half done, blue shirt untucked, hair sticking up like it had a life of its own, worried about coming off smooth to the “observer“. But now…now he had at least four-day-old beard growth. He was wearing a ratty gray tee and torn jeans. His hair flopped in his eyes.
“Do I know you?” he asked, voice raspy, as though he hadn’t used it in a long time.
“Do you--? Brendan. It’s me. Freya.” She tucked her dark curls behind an ear, hoping fully exposing her face would help.
“Freya? Oh, yes, right…”
Scooby-Dooby Doo…
She took a step closer and when he didn’t react, she eased into the booth across him. He was swinging his beer bottle in circles, watching the liquid swirl.
“You don’t remember me?”
He set the bottle down.
“How do you know my name? I mean, my real name. Everyone here knows me as Eddie.”
Eddie? What an awful, dull name. It didn’t fit him. Brendan might not have been a super hero--in any sense--but he’d been a great guy, a good agent, and her closest friend.
“I’m a friend,” Freya said, “Do you remember where you used to work?”
“I’ve always worked in town, here. I’m a cop.”
“A cop.”
He smiled, seeming proud of himself. “Up for promotion next week, too.”
“Eddie?”
He ducked his head, almost bashful, almost flirtatious. “Nickname I got on the force. So long ago, I think only the payroll staff remembers my real name. I just went with it.”
She reached out to touch his face. “Brendan…”
He looked quizzically at her as she ran her thumb over his jaw line, feeling the rough scrape of facial hair beneath her fingers. She reached up to brush his hair out of his eyes.
“I know you?” he asked. “I don’t remember meeting you.”
“You don’t remember being my partner? New York, DC? Cazal?”
“Your partner? You mean, like…”
I slept with this woman and I don‘t remember? She’s hot!
“No, no, not partners like that. We worked together. We worked for the NSA.”
“NSA? Ok, did Bud send you? Some kind of promotion joke? Haha, what a kidder.” Brendan smiled crooked and charmingly at her.
“No!” She was frustrated now. He wasn’t lying; his thoughts clearly indicated his confusion.
“Really. I worked for the NSA,” he repeated, sarcastically. “In another life, maybe. Now, if you don’t mind, it’s my day off, and I’d like to get to the next beer.”
She grabbed at his shoulder and drew his face close to hers, fingers on his chin. “Brendan. I know your real name. You’re Brendan Dean, born October 2nd, 1968. You grew up in Greenwhich Village with your mother and father, Lily and Dane. You were pulled right out of NYU to work for the government and at 34 you began working at NSA on the Cazal case. Do I look like I’m lying to you? How would I know all of this?”
His mouth twitched down. “You’ve got most of it right. Except, I never worked for the government. Not the way you mean. I finished school and came here, to Nevada. Went to cop training and have been working my way up ever since.”
She sighed. She caressed his cheek again and tried to smooth his hair. She noticed he turned into it just the slightest--like he used to.
“Will you stay here? I have a call I need to make. But I want to talk to you a bit more. I miss you, Brendan.”
He gazed at her, seeming to take her in. She knew the face he got when his logic and gut were telling him two different things. She’d seen the look enough.
“I have this strange, unaccountable feeling that I’ve missed you, too.” He nodded. “Go make your call.”
Freya smiled, standing to walk to the bar. After ordering a vodka diet coke, she pulled out her cell.
“Bennet.”
“I found him,” she spoke into the receiver.
“Found who, Freya?”
“Brendan. I just…I can’t believe it. But something’s wrong with him.”
“Wait. You found your old partner?”
“Yes.”
“Where are you?”
She glanced around, amused. “A crappy strip club in Nevada.”
“Nevada.” His tone was sharp.
“Yeah. I heard a lead on Peter Petrelli and made my way out here, only to find Brendan.”
“Does anyone else know you’re there?”
“No.”
She heard Bennet sigh into the phone. “Keep it that way.”
“I was planning on it, but I want to bring him back. You’ve got something or someone who can fix him, right? You’ve got to.”
“Freya…” She could just picture her boss sitting at his desk, rubbing the bridge of his nose under his glasses like he did when he was tired. “He’s that way for a reason. When the bill came through, I had to protect you. You came to me that very next day and I understood only three living people knew about you. Me, Harper and your partner. So, the Haitian made him forget, before he went to work with Mohinder.”
“What?” Her voice was raised, but she couldn’t help it. Couldn’t believe it. “You did this to him? You made my best friend forget?”
“It had to be done, Freya! For your safety. He was a civilian.”
“He was NSA! He was my partner, for God’s sake, Bennet! You had no right. No right.”
“Maybe not. But I couldn’t risk it. Every day I protect children and adults from being locked away or cured. You’re just another. There’s no telling who he might have told. There are other telepaths out there. And unlike you, his mind can be read.”
She bit her lip, then gulped down half her drink. “I’m bringing him in. You will fix him, you hear me? Or we’re done.”
“Freya--”
She hung up.
She ordered a beer and another drink for herself and brought them over to Brendan’s table.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” he responded, smiling when she held out the bottle. “Thanks.”
“I realize you don’t entirely believe me right now…but if I promise you’ll be back in time for your promotion review, will you take a trip with me? There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”
“Where?”
“Texas.”
He eyed her suspiciously. “I have this funny feeling I should go with you, while my head’s screaming that instead of just being NSA, you’re an assassin or something.”
Just because you’re paranoid…
“Doesn’t mean they’re not out to get you, I know.” She grinned and grabbed Brendan’s hand in hers when he responded with his own slow grin.
“Why the hell not?” he shrugged, swallowing more beer.
“Now that’s the Brendan Dean I know.”
~~~
Things That Shouldn't Be: Part 2
PS--Any Thoughtcrimes archives out there, by chance? Or like, other Joe Flannigan character archives? *scratches head*
So, in honor of spring (or rather, my impending absence), and avoidance of my last paper of the semester, I have a not-so-spring-like fic for you all.
ETA: This is a newer version of the original first part. It has been edited and made (I hope) better.
Title: Things That Are (1/2)
Author: MF Luder
Fandom: Heroes/Thoughtcrimes
Keywords: crossover, gen, future!fic
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Five Years Gone
Disclaimer: Heroes is owned by NBC and created by Tim Kring, Thoughtcrimes was produced by USA Network.
Archive: My LJ, anywhere else, please just let me know so I can visit on occasion.
Summary: Five years after the bomb goes off, Freya finds herself still hiding what she is, and still working for the NSA. She discovers a friend who has been gone for some time, but he’s lost, even to himself. Can she ever get him back his memories?
Feedback: Mulder_Loves_Scully_Forever@hotmail.com
Author's Notes: Erm, forgive the inclusion of an inside joke shared with a person who will never, ever read this. I also included my own little explanation for why everyone could stand directly in front of the nuclear bomb blast and not die of radiation.
Beta Thanks:
dearjoanwallace was kind enough to help me out. Thanks so much!“Here you go, Bennet,” Freya McAllister said as she walked into the tiny office, handing the man a small file. “Found another family for you. They were already in hiding, but not well enough. Little boy has telekinesis.”
“Thanks, Freya,” the thin man nodded, distracted as he reviewed a piece of paper.
She nodded back before heading into the hallway, absent-mindedly listening for any suspicious thoughts.
She had been at this for five years now. Well, more, if one counted the whole time she’s worked for the National Security Agency. But it had been five years for Bennet and she couldn’t help but think they’d done little to nothing. It was a new world, but it sure as hell wasn’t a brighter one.
When the bomb went off in New York and Nathan Petrelli ascended to the Oval Office, she’d hoped something good could come out of it. She had met Nathan once, two years before the bomb, at a party hosted by his family. She was there as part of his father’s service detail and in the ten minutes she’d spoken to him, she had been both turned off…and turned on. He was as slippery as any politician, his words never saying what he truly meant. But while his thoughts displayed a cunning mind, they also displayed conviction and good intent.
It didn’t happen, though. Instead, he signed that despicable bill into law. At that point she’d been grateful that only three believable people had ever known about her “gift”: Harper, Dr. Michael Welles, and Brendan. Harper had kept his mouth shut when the edict came down, too dependant on her skills to want to turn her in. Brendan…she hadn’t seen him since the bomb. She didn’t even know if he was still alive. The good doctor--her mentor--had died two days after the bomb from radiation sickness. Before taking her secret to the grave, Michael had handed her a slip of paper with a single name: Bennet.
And so she had continued to work for the NSA, just under a different capacity.
She and Bennet had found hundreds of children since that fateful day when President Petrelli betrayed an eighth of the nation--more, worldwide. And now he was going to announce a cure? His chief science advisor, Mohinder Suresh, might be good, but he couldn’t know more than Michael who had devoted his life to finding and helping telepaths like her. Seeing the structure and knowing the framework didn’t mean a person understood it.
Gonna get what’s coming to him…
Can’t wait to get home to my wife…
Ellie, God, I wish you were here…
Wow, that hamburger’s really disagreeing with me…
Dum, dum, dum, dum, dum, dum…
Freya couldn’t help the small grin that escaped when she heard Agent Mully humming the theme song from the old The X-Files TV show. Especially when he was so consumed by the song in his head, he didn’t notice the doorframe wasn’t as large as he thought it was.
…Peter Petrelli…
She whipped around upon hearing that thought. The President’s brother hadn’t been seen in a few years. Word had it he was secretly working with Hiro Nakamura, though she highly doubted it. Peter had never been one for terrorist attacks. She’d met him at the same party when she met Nathan and Peter’d come across as shy and almost whiny, but passionate about people. Then again, people changed. Especially in times like this.
She listened, but the thought was gone. She had, however, caught the man who’d thought it. Matt Parkman. What was he doing in Texas? He knew. He had to know something. They needed Peter more than ever, now.
~~~
She slunk into the tacky strip bar which seemed to be Peter’s choice of hang out, according to locals. It had been relatively easy to find him once she’d located the town where he was living--hard to miss a guy with a scar across his entire face.
It was early and she wasn’t expecting to see Peter for awhile still. She wasn’t even sure what she was looking for. An ally? Vindication? To know why he wasn’t in DC trying to knock some sense into his brother’s head?
She ordered a club soda and settled in to wait.
Class act tonight. Damn, that Jessica’s fine.
Why did she leave me, I can’t believe she left…
…I hate my life…
Scooby-Dooby Doo, where are you…
No. It couldn’t be. Not here. Here of all places…
Freya stood and walked towards a corner booth , clouded in shadow, even mid-day.
“Brendan?” she breathed the question.
Dooby-Doo…Did someone call my name? Nah, must be hearing things, no one knows that name, I’m not him anymore…Where are you…
“Brendan.” She spoke louder this time, and his eyes snapped to hers.
He looked like a something the cat dragged in. She remembered the first time she met him: tie half done, blue shirt untucked, hair sticking up like it had a life of its own, worried about coming off smooth to the “observer“. But now…now he had at least four-day-old beard growth. He was wearing a ratty gray tee and torn jeans. His hair flopped in his eyes.
“Do I know you?” he asked, voice raspy, as though he hadn’t used it in a long time.
“Do you--? Brendan. It’s me. Freya.” She tucked her dark curls behind an ear, hoping fully exposing her face would help.
“Freya? Oh, yes, right…”
Scooby-Dooby Doo…
She took a step closer and when he didn’t react, she eased into the booth across him. He was swinging his beer bottle in circles, watching the liquid swirl.
“You don’t remember me?”
He set the bottle down.
“How do you know my name? I mean, my real name. Everyone here knows me as Eddie.”
Eddie? What an awful, dull name. It didn’t fit him. Brendan might not have been a super hero--in any sense--but he’d been a great guy, a good agent, and her closest friend.
“I’m a friend,” Freya said, “Do you remember where you used to work?”
“I’ve always worked in town, here. I’m a cop.”
“A cop.”
He smiled, seeming proud of himself. “Up for promotion next week, too.”
“Eddie?”
He ducked his head, almost bashful, almost flirtatious. “Nickname I got on the force. So long ago, I think only the payroll staff remembers my real name. I just went with it.”
She reached out to touch his face. “Brendan…”
He looked quizzically at her as she ran her thumb over his jaw line, feeling the rough scrape of facial hair beneath her fingers. She reached up to brush his hair out of his eyes.
“I know you?” he asked. “I don’t remember meeting you.”
“You don’t remember being my partner? New York, DC? Cazal?”
“Your partner? You mean, like…”
I slept with this woman and I don‘t remember? She’s hot!
“No, no, not partners like that. We worked together. We worked for the NSA.”
“NSA? Ok, did Bud send you? Some kind of promotion joke? Haha, what a kidder.” Brendan smiled crooked and charmingly at her.
“No!” She was frustrated now. He wasn’t lying; his thoughts clearly indicated his confusion.
“Really. I worked for the NSA,” he repeated, sarcastically. “In another life, maybe. Now, if you don’t mind, it’s my day off, and I’d like to get to the next beer.”
She grabbed at his shoulder and drew his face close to hers, fingers on his chin. “Brendan. I know your real name. You’re Brendan Dean, born October 2nd, 1968. You grew up in Greenwhich Village with your mother and father, Lily and Dane. You were pulled right out of NYU to work for the government and at 34 you began working at NSA on the Cazal case. Do I look like I’m lying to you? How would I know all of this?”
His mouth twitched down. “You’ve got most of it right. Except, I never worked for the government. Not the way you mean. I finished school and came here, to Nevada. Went to cop training and have been working my way up ever since.”
She sighed. She caressed his cheek again and tried to smooth his hair. She noticed he turned into it just the slightest--like he used to.
“Will you stay here? I have a call I need to make. But I want to talk to you a bit more. I miss you, Brendan.”
He gazed at her, seeming to take her in. She knew the face he got when his logic and gut were telling him two different things. She’d seen the look enough.
“I have this strange, unaccountable feeling that I’ve missed you, too.” He nodded. “Go make your call.”
Freya smiled, standing to walk to the bar. After ordering a vodka diet coke, she pulled out her cell.
“Bennet.”
“I found him,” she spoke into the receiver.
“Found who, Freya?”
“Brendan. I just…I can’t believe it. But something’s wrong with him.”
“Wait. You found your old partner?”
“Yes.”
“Where are you?”
She glanced around, amused. “A crappy strip club in Nevada.”
“Nevada.” His tone was sharp.
“Yeah. I heard a lead on Peter Petrelli and made my way out here, only to find Brendan.”
“Does anyone else know you’re there?”
“No.”
She heard Bennet sigh into the phone. “Keep it that way.”
“I was planning on it, but I want to bring him back. You’ve got something or someone who can fix him, right? You’ve got to.”
“Freya…” She could just picture her boss sitting at his desk, rubbing the bridge of his nose under his glasses like he did when he was tired. “He’s that way for a reason. When the bill came through, I had to protect you. You came to me that very next day and I understood only three living people knew about you. Me, Harper and your partner. So, the Haitian made him forget, before he went to work with Mohinder.”
“What?” Her voice was raised, but she couldn’t help it. Couldn’t believe it. “You did this to him? You made my best friend forget?”
“It had to be done, Freya! For your safety. He was a civilian.”
“He was NSA! He was my partner, for God’s sake, Bennet! You had no right. No right.”
“Maybe not. But I couldn’t risk it. Every day I protect children and adults from being locked away or cured. You’re just another. There’s no telling who he might have told. There are other telepaths out there. And unlike you, his mind can be read.”
She bit her lip, then gulped down half her drink. “I’m bringing him in. You will fix him, you hear me? Or we’re done.”
“Freya--”
She hung up.
She ordered a beer and another drink for herself and brought them over to Brendan’s table.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” he responded, smiling when she held out the bottle. “Thanks.”
“I realize you don’t entirely believe me right now…but if I promise you’ll be back in time for your promotion review, will you take a trip with me? There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”
“Where?”
“Texas.”
He eyed her suspiciously. “I have this funny feeling I should go with you, while my head’s screaming that instead of just being NSA, you’re an assassin or something.”
Just because you’re paranoid…
“Doesn’t mean they’re not out to get you, I know.” She grinned and grabbed Brendan’s hand in hers when he responded with his own slow grin.
“Why the hell not?” he shrugged, swallowing more beer.
“Now that’s the Brendan Dean I know.”
~~~
Things That Shouldn't Be: Part 2
PS--Any Thoughtcrimes archives out there, by chance? Or like, other Joe Flannigan character archives? *scratches head*
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-05-08 08:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-08 09:19 pm (UTC)And I hope you enjoy the fic!
no subject
Date: 2007-05-08 10:25 pm (UTC)I'm working on my own xover right now, so I'm all about reading others, that would hopefully get the gears to turn - I'm gonna read yours after I see the movie.
no subject
Date: 2007-05-09 06:48 am (UTC)Part two: http://up-file.com/download/7f2aa0148586/JF-F05-02.mpg.html
I tend to enjoy crossovers. As long as its done well and doesn't rely too much on knowing th other show, they can be very good. Once I see more BSG, I want to write a SGAtlantis/BSG fic.
no subject
Date: 2007-05-15 02:32 pm (UTC)Very nice. You meshed everything well. I haven't gotten to watching Heroes yet, though.
no subject
Date: 2007-05-16 06:55 pm (UTC)Thanks so much for reading! And Heroes is totally worth watching. :-)
no subject
Date: 2007-05-17 03:15 am (UTC)I'll get to watching it soon. Thanks.
no subject
Date: 2007-08-05 05:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-05 06:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-05 05:31 pm (UTC)