More Heroes fic!
Mar. 13th, 2007 04:20 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mf_luder_xfI got it out on time!! Wow, nearly three months to write a fic and it ends up being done two days prior. *headdesk* I fail.
Title: The Five Stages of Grief
Author: MF Luder
Pairing: Nathan/Peter
Keywords: Petrellicest, slash
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Through Parasite
Disclaimer: They belong to the NBC and Tim Kring.
Archive: My LJ, Biani's Slash Archive, anywhere else, please just let me know so I can visit and pet my baby on occasion.
Summary: Anger, denial, bargaining, depression, acceptance: these are the things Nathan feels since it all began.
Feedback: Mulder_Loves_Scully_Forever@hotmail.com
Author's Notes: Written for the Nathan ficathon on![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
vote_petrelli, and for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kelly_girl. She asked for Nathan/Peter, saving people or discovering new powers. I’m afraid I only managed one of those, and I’m not entirely sure it’s the kind of fic she intended, but I hope that it still pleases you, kelly_girl. It wasn't even what I expected it to be--it just kind of came out this way. My grief cycle is a shortened version taken from the movie All That Jazz, but the real information can be found at The Kubler-Ross grief cycle. Unbetaed because I am very tardy in writing this.
1. Anger
Nathan’s angry about a lot of things. His life had been going along so well. Sure, he’d made mistakes in the past, but now he had a beautiful wife, two great kids, a mother who was a bit of a clepto, and a brother who was too altruistic for his own good. But things were good. They were good, dammit.
Then Linderman happened and his father’s death and revelations about powers, for Christ’s sake. It was like the plot from a bad sci-fi novel. And he’s angry.
So angry, he’s taking it out on his brother.
“Peter, why must you insist on being such a selfish bastard?” he yells, storming into his brother’s apartment. Shoddy, run-down place not befitting a Petrelli.
Peter just turns around with a glare equal to Nathan’s and responds, “Me? Why am I a selfish bastard? Look at you! You refuse to admit to anything! You’re coiled up like the bomb I supposedly am. You’re so busy trying to push us all away, everyone who cares about you. What’s worse is I don’t even think you realize you’re doing it.”
Nathan advances and throws a right hook that only clips his brother in his ear. His reflexes have gotten better, lately.
Then they’re kissing, harsh and brutal and without reason, but God, it feels good. His brother’s stronger than the skinny frame lets on and he pushes right back at Nathan, giving as much as he gets. Nathan gets him pushed up against a wall and they haven’t done this in so long, he’s missed it, but then Peter’s shoving him away, glaring reproachfully.
“No, Nathan. You don’t get to do this. You can’t always have what you want when you want it. I’m enough of a mess, I can’t handle you, too. Get your own priorities straightened out first and then we’ll see. I can’t deal with your anger, right now.”
Then Peter turns and stomps out of his own apartment, disappearing into thin air with a furtive glance over his shoulder and a push of bangs behind his ear so Nathan can’t remotely follow him. He wonders when his brother got so smart.
Nathan punches the wall.
2. Denial
He sits down abruptly at the sound of the sweet Texan accent he hasn’t heard in so long. It’s not one he ever thought he’d hear again. She’s dead. Meredith was dead.
“We need to talk, Nathan.”
A pause. He can’t even begin to grasp what’s happening.
“You still there?”
He manages to choke out, “It’s been fourteen years.” Fourteen. “I went to your funeral.”
He barely acknowledges the rest of the call, half-heartedly throwing out a lump sum of money he hopes will keep her quiet. Because for all he knows, this is somehow a trick. She was dead.
After the phone call, he sits blankly for a moment, before shoving it aside. He can’t deal with it. Not today. He’s got a brother to find, a campaign to run.
This mess will have to wait another day.
3. Bargaining
His head is a disaster. A million thoughts running wild and the calm he’s exuding in the office, with his mother, it’s all a façade. Inside he can’t help the fear. Fear for himself. Fear for his family. For Peter. For the newly found ex-girlfriend and his daughter.
His daughter.
Meredith was right. She was beautiful. In fact, he wasn’t sure such a beautiful child could be his. And yet, the moment he’d seen her, even through just that tiny camera phone picture, he knew she was his. She had his eyes.
And just like his mother had warned, he was sunk. He’d made himself leave, not letting Meredith call his girl, Claire, back. But he’d wanted too. Driving away, his heart had sunk to the pit of stomach and he felt numb. Already his daughter had wormed his way into a heart he didn’t think could hold anyone else. He knew his life couldn’t. Too much to think about, to much to worry about.
Linderman. The campaign. Peter. Claire. Meredith. His wife and two sons. Peter.
And so it was, one night, late at the office and all alone, he found himself gripping the edge of the desk for dear life, knuckles turning white, praying and hoping for some kind of resolution. Absolution.
It wasn’t a religious prayer. Hell, he went to church but it was strictly to keep his mother happy. Instead, he sat debating with himself, promising anyone, anything, that could hear him. If he could just find Pete. If he could just meet his daughter without it ruining his campaign. If he could just get Linderman turned in. If Peter hadn’t gotten involved with Simone. If he could just win the election.
If, if, if…
4. Depression
He can’t do it. He can’t force himself to pull the trigger. With everything riding on this: his freedom, Peter’s safety, maybe the safety of his newfound daughter. Not to mention revenging his father’s death and Heidi’s paralysis.
Despite it all, he lowers the gun and feels drained, as though the last dregs of energy he has since it all started have died with the lack of release of the single life-freeing bullet it would have taken.
He’s not a murderer. But that doesn’t make him feel better.
Linderman turns around as soon as he hears the safety click back on, beaming at him, those beady eyes staring far too-knowingly and perhaps with understanding, his lips tugging up in a self-satisfied smirk.
“You’ve made a wise decision, Mr. Petrelli. I assure you, you will go far with me. I have big plans for you.”
And Nathan can feel happy sliding through his fingers, and he’s not sure this will give him meaning but something in him refuses to let whatever information Linderman has about him, about Peter, about them, go untold. His mind itches to know, but right now his body just hurts.
He sees Linderman nod to someone behind him and feels big hands take the gun from his limp fingers.
“If you just follow my man, here, he’ll take you to my office and draw up the specifics of the deal. Since you’ve so happily gone into the deal, I predict death threats will no longer be needed--provided you keep up your end.”
He turns back to chopping his vegetables then pauses. “I assure you, Mr. Petrelli. Claire is safe and no one further will learn about her…abilities.”
Nathan’s eyes widen, but something in him won’t let him resist when the large black man from before turns him and escorts him out.
He’s feeling entirely too numb right now. That can’t be healthy.
5. Acceptance
He’s put it off for too long. His stomach is a ball of cold steel and he’s really regretting the coffee he drank this morning, but he’s not going to hold back anymore.
He walks into the room where Peter is waiting with a blank stare. At least he’s visible this time.
“Peter.”
He rests a hand on his brother’s shoulder, drawing courage from the warmth exuding from his baby brother’s body and the way he instinctively turns into Nathan’s touch, even when his arms are crossed and he looks ready to ignore Nathan forever.
He sits in a plush chair without a single thought to his nice suit or manners. He rubs at his forehead.
“Why don’t you sit?”
Peter just jerks his head ‘no’.
Sighing, Nathan leans back. “Sixteen years ago, I was rather foolish. I was eighteen and in love. We, ah. Well, let’s just say she got pregnant.”
Peter seems to perk up now, though his eyes remain hard.
“Having a child out of wedlock was not befitting of the Petrelli name and so Dad and Mom took care of finances for some time, ensuring Meredith would keep quiet. Then, after two years, there was a fire. Meredith and the baby died.” He pauses. “You know, I never even knew her name. Before the fire.”
“Her?” Peter spoke up.
“My daughter.”
“You had a daughter.”
Nathan nods, then stops. “No. I have a daughter.”
“Wait, what?”
Peter’s stepped closer now and Nathan takes a moment to think this might not go as bad as he thought.
“The fire…Meredith didn’t die. And it seems some family found and adopted the baby. “
“Why didn’t she die in the fire?”
“I don’t know. Well, I have an inclining. But not the specifics. I just know…she’s like us, Peter.”
“Powers?” Peter’s eyebrows rise.
“Mmhmm,” Nathan responds, the information still sinking in, even after he’s met the girl.
“What’s her name?” Peter asks, now sitting beside him on the edge of the chair, one hand tentative on his arm.
“Claire. Claire Bennett, as according to her adopted family. She’s sixteen, beautiful blonde hair, and she--”
Peter jumps up, backing away.
“What? What?” Nathan asks, standing up, worried at the horror dawning in his brother’s eyes.
“No, no, no…it can’t be.”
“Be what? Peter!”
“Claire. That’s who I saved. The cheerleader. In Texas.”
“Oh.“ And then he realizes. “Oh.”
He see it now. The images of Isaac’s paintings align in his mind with the girl he‘s recently seen. Blonde hair, same eyes. Only there, that girl looked terrified. The other day, meeting Nathan for the first time, with his mother and some random Haitian watching on, she looked nervous, but determined. A quiver to her chin, but strong, staring at him steely, and he knew then why so many people back down when he gives them that ‘look‘.
“Then I…you…”
Nathan stumbles over his words. Peter saved his daughter. Claire saved his brother. The possibilities of coincidence are so great his head starts to pound.
“The one you saved from Sylar. At that high school.”
“The one who healed me. Christ, Nathan, she saved me. And,” clarity comes through his voice, “that must be how she survived. The fire.”
The thought that Claire saved Peter makes him love her even more. Nathan steps towards his brother, gripping his arms firmly. “Do you know what this means?”
“Yeah. I’m an uncle.” He grins but then his eyes turn hollow. “I’m Claire’s uncle.”
“Peter. What’s wrong?”
“I just…Nothing. Nothing’s wrong.”
Peter’s eyes dart about the room as though afraid someone might be watching behind a camera or ready to jump out and yell, “Surprise!” but then he steps in closer and lays a kiss on Nathan’s lips for a single moment. Nathan lets one hand slide up to caress the sharp arch of Peter’s cheekbone and feel his soft skin beneath his hands.
When Peter pulls back, he looks happy again. “I don’t know how you did this, Nathan, but I’m glad. You seem happier. You seem…like you’ve sorted things out.”
Nathan knows acceptance and invitation when he hears it and he smiles a little to let Peter know he knows, then asks, “So, you want to meet your niece--for real this time?”
Peter gulps and nods his head.
Nathan steps away, body already feeling the loss, and opens the door to step out and call his mother and Claire who have been waiting, hoping Peter would want to see them.
They step into the room and Nathan watches as Peter’s entire body relaxes and he grins like he hasn’t in a long time. Nathan’s jealous. His brother’s never responded like that to him.
Claire and Peter stare for one long moment and then Claire rushes to him and they embrace, Peter kissing the top of her head.
“I’m so glad you’re alright, Claire. I’ve been so worried but I couldn’t, I couldn’t--”
“It’s alright,” she responds pulling back and looking up at Peter with adoration. “I knew we’d see each other again. I’m glad you’re okay, too.”
They embrace again, and Nathan notes his mother’s raised eyebrows, despite the feeling he has that she knew about this already.
“Nathan,” comes Peter’s soft voice and it’s choked with emotion.
Nathan shifts, not entirely comfortable with the scene. He doesn’t want to cry. Can’t.
“Dad?” comes Claire’s voice right after, tentative and searching.
Peter has one arm held out and Nathan awkwardly shuffles over, barely touching them, then pulling them both into a large hug.
Both have come back from the dead and Nathan wasn’t sure he’d ever find either of them at least some point in his life.
But now, smelling the herbal shampoo his daughter uses, Peter’s cologne, and feeling how protective they are of one another, and in turn him, Nathan knows then. That despite Linderman, despite the crazy powers thing, and the fact that Peter may still explode despite having gained some sense of control of his powers, they’re going to be okay.
With his mother looking on, Nathan thinks he may have found happy and meaning together, after all.
Title: The Five Stages of Grief
Author: MF Luder
Pairing: Nathan/Peter
Keywords: Petrellicest, slash
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Through Parasite
Disclaimer: They belong to the NBC and Tim Kring.
Archive: My LJ, Biani's Slash Archive, anywhere else, please just let me know so I can visit and pet my baby on occasion.
Summary: Anger, denial, bargaining, depression, acceptance: these are the things Nathan feels since it all began.
Feedback: Mulder_Loves_Scully_Forever@hotmail.com
Author's Notes: Written for the Nathan ficathon on
vote_petrelli, and for kelly_girl. She asked for Nathan/Peter, saving people or discovering new powers. I’m afraid I only managed one of those, and I’m not entirely sure it’s the kind of fic she intended, but I hope that it still pleases you, kelly_girl. It wasn't even what I expected it to be--it just kind of came out this way. My grief cycle is a shortened version taken from the movie All That Jazz, but the real information can be found at The Kubler-Ross grief cycle. Unbetaed because I am very tardy in writing this.Nathan’s angry about a lot of things. His life had been going along so well. Sure, he’d made mistakes in the past, but now he had a beautiful wife, two great kids, a mother who was a bit of a clepto, and a brother who was too altruistic for his own good. But things were good. They were good, dammit.
Then Linderman happened and his father’s death and revelations about powers, for Christ’s sake. It was like the plot from a bad sci-fi novel. And he’s angry.
So angry, he’s taking it out on his brother.
“Peter, why must you insist on being such a selfish bastard?” he yells, storming into his brother’s apartment. Shoddy, run-down place not befitting a Petrelli.
Peter just turns around with a glare equal to Nathan’s and responds, “Me? Why am I a selfish bastard? Look at you! You refuse to admit to anything! You’re coiled up like the bomb I supposedly am. You’re so busy trying to push us all away, everyone who cares about you. What’s worse is I don’t even think you realize you’re doing it.”
Nathan advances and throws a right hook that only clips his brother in his ear. His reflexes have gotten better, lately.
Then they’re kissing, harsh and brutal and without reason, but God, it feels good. His brother’s stronger than the skinny frame lets on and he pushes right back at Nathan, giving as much as he gets. Nathan gets him pushed up against a wall and they haven’t done this in so long, he’s missed it, but then Peter’s shoving him away, glaring reproachfully.
“No, Nathan. You don’t get to do this. You can’t always have what you want when you want it. I’m enough of a mess, I can’t handle you, too. Get your own priorities straightened out first and then we’ll see. I can’t deal with your anger, right now.”
Then Peter turns and stomps out of his own apartment, disappearing into thin air with a furtive glance over his shoulder and a push of bangs behind his ear so Nathan can’t remotely follow him. He wonders when his brother got so smart.
Nathan punches the wall.
He sits down abruptly at the sound of the sweet Texan accent he hasn’t heard in so long. It’s not one he ever thought he’d hear again. She’s dead. Meredith was dead.
“We need to talk, Nathan.”
A pause. He can’t even begin to grasp what’s happening.
“You still there?”
He manages to choke out, “It’s been fourteen years.” Fourteen. “I went to your funeral.”
He barely acknowledges the rest of the call, half-heartedly throwing out a lump sum of money he hopes will keep her quiet. Because for all he knows, this is somehow a trick. She was dead.
After the phone call, he sits blankly for a moment, before shoving it aside. He can’t deal with it. Not today. He’s got a brother to find, a campaign to run.
This mess will have to wait another day.
His head is a disaster. A million thoughts running wild and the calm he’s exuding in the office, with his mother, it’s all a façade. Inside he can’t help the fear. Fear for himself. Fear for his family. For Peter. For the newly found ex-girlfriend and his daughter.
His daughter.
Meredith was right. She was beautiful. In fact, he wasn’t sure such a beautiful child could be his. And yet, the moment he’d seen her, even through just that tiny camera phone picture, he knew she was his. She had his eyes.
And just like his mother had warned, he was sunk. He’d made himself leave, not letting Meredith call his girl, Claire, back. But he’d wanted too. Driving away, his heart had sunk to the pit of stomach and he felt numb. Already his daughter had wormed his way into a heart he didn’t think could hold anyone else. He knew his life couldn’t. Too much to think about, to much to worry about.
Linderman. The campaign. Peter. Claire. Meredith. His wife and two sons. Peter.
And so it was, one night, late at the office and all alone, he found himself gripping the edge of the desk for dear life, knuckles turning white, praying and hoping for some kind of resolution. Absolution.
It wasn’t a religious prayer. Hell, he went to church but it was strictly to keep his mother happy. Instead, he sat debating with himself, promising anyone, anything, that could hear him. If he could just find Pete. If he could just meet his daughter without it ruining his campaign. If he could just get Linderman turned in. If Peter hadn’t gotten involved with Simone. If he could just win the election.
If, if, if…
He can’t do it. He can’t force himself to pull the trigger. With everything riding on this: his freedom, Peter’s safety, maybe the safety of his newfound daughter. Not to mention revenging his father’s death and Heidi’s paralysis.
Despite it all, he lowers the gun and feels drained, as though the last dregs of energy he has since it all started have died with the lack of release of the single life-freeing bullet it would have taken.
He’s not a murderer. But that doesn’t make him feel better.
Linderman turns around as soon as he hears the safety click back on, beaming at him, those beady eyes staring far too-knowingly and perhaps with understanding, his lips tugging up in a self-satisfied smirk.
“You’ve made a wise decision, Mr. Petrelli. I assure you, you will go far with me. I have big plans for you.”
And Nathan can feel happy sliding through his fingers, and he’s not sure this will give him meaning but something in him refuses to let whatever information Linderman has about him, about Peter, about them, go untold. His mind itches to know, but right now his body just hurts.
He sees Linderman nod to someone behind him and feels big hands take the gun from his limp fingers.
“If you just follow my man, here, he’ll take you to my office and draw up the specifics of the deal. Since you’ve so happily gone into the deal, I predict death threats will no longer be needed--provided you keep up your end.”
He turns back to chopping his vegetables then pauses. “I assure you, Mr. Petrelli. Claire is safe and no one further will learn about her…abilities.”
Nathan’s eyes widen, but something in him won’t let him resist when the large black man from before turns him and escorts him out.
He’s feeling entirely too numb right now. That can’t be healthy.
He’s put it off for too long. His stomach is a ball of cold steel and he’s really regretting the coffee he drank this morning, but he’s not going to hold back anymore.
He walks into the room where Peter is waiting with a blank stare. At least he’s visible this time.
“Peter.”
He rests a hand on his brother’s shoulder, drawing courage from the warmth exuding from his baby brother’s body and the way he instinctively turns into Nathan’s touch, even when his arms are crossed and he looks ready to ignore Nathan forever.
He sits in a plush chair without a single thought to his nice suit or manners. He rubs at his forehead.
“Why don’t you sit?”
Peter just jerks his head ‘no’.
Sighing, Nathan leans back. “Sixteen years ago, I was rather foolish. I was eighteen and in love. We, ah. Well, let’s just say she got pregnant.”
Peter seems to perk up now, though his eyes remain hard.
“Having a child out of wedlock was not befitting of the Petrelli name and so Dad and Mom took care of finances for some time, ensuring Meredith would keep quiet. Then, after two years, there was a fire. Meredith and the baby died.” He pauses. “You know, I never even knew her name. Before the fire.”
“Her?” Peter spoke up.
“My daughter.”
“You had a daughter.”
Nathan nods, then stops. “No. I have a daughter.”
“Wait, what?”
Peter’s stepped closer now and Nathan takes a moment to think this might not go as bad as he thought.
“The fire…Meredith didn’t die. And it seems some family found and adopted the baby. “
“Why didn’t she die in the fire?”
“I don’t know. Well, I have an inclining. But not the specifics. I just know…she’s like us, Peter.”
“Powers?” Peter’s eyebrows rise.
“Mmhmm,” Nathan responds, the information still sinking in, even after he’s met the girl.
“What’s her name?” Peter asks, now sitting beside him on the edge of the chair, one hand tentative on his arm.
“Claire. Claire Bennett, as according to her adopted family. She’s sixteen, beautiful blonde hair, and she--”
Peter jumps up, backing away.
“What? What?” Nathan asks, standing up, worried at the horror dawning in his brother’s eyes.
“No, no, no…it can’t be.”
“Be what? Peter!”
“Claire. That’s who I saved. The cheerleader. In Texas.”
“Oh.“ And then he realizes. “Oh.”
He see it now. The images of Isaac’s paintings align in his mind with the girl he‘s recently seen. Blonde hair, same eyes. Only there, that girl looked terrified. The other day, meeting Nathan for the first time, with his mother and some random Haitian watching on, she looked nervous, but determined. A quiver to her chin, but strong, staring at him steely, and he knew then why so many people back down when he gives them that ‘look‘.
“Then I…you…”
Nathan stumbles over his words. Peter saved his daughter. Claire saved his brother. The possibilities of coincidence are so great his head starts to pound.
“The one you saved from Sylar. At that high school.”
“The one who healed me. Christ, Nathan, she saved me. And,” clarity comes through his voice, “that must be how she survived. The fire.”
The thought that Claire saved Peter makes him love her even more. Nathan steps towards his brother, gripping his arms firmly. “Do you know what this means?”
“Yeah. I’m an uncle.” He grins but then his eyes turn hollow. “I’m Claire’s uncle.”
“Peter. What’s wrong?”
“I just…Nothing. Nothing’s wrong.”
Peter’s eyes dart about the room as though afraid someone might be watching behind a camera or ready to jump out and yell, “Surprise!” but then he steps in closer and lays a kiss on Nathan’s lips for a single moment. Nathan lets one hand slide up to caress the sharp arch of Peter’s cheekbone and feel his soft skin beneath his hands.
When Peter pulls back, he looks happy again. “I don’t know how you did this, Nathan, but I’m glad. You seem happier. You seem…like you’ve sorted things out.”
Nathan knows acceptance and invitation when he hears it and he smiles a little to let Peter know he knows, then asks, “So, you want to meet your niece--for real this time?”
Peter gulps and nods his head.
Nathan steps away, body already feeling the loss, and opens the door to step out and call his mother and Claire who have been waiting, hoping Peter would want to see them.
They step into the room and Nathan watches as Peter’s entire body relaxes and he grins like he hasn’t in a long time. Nathan’s jealous. His brother’s never responded like that to him.
Claire and Peter stare for one long moment and then Claire rushes to him and they embrace, Peter kissing the top of her head.
“I’m so glad you’re alright, Claire. I’ve been so worried but I couldn’t, I couldn’t--”
“It’s alright,” she responds pulling back and looking up at Peter with adoration. “I knew we’d see each other again. I’m glad you’re okay, too.”
They embrace again, and Nathan notes his mother’s raised eyebrows, despite the feeling he has that she knew about this already.
“Nathan,” comes Peter’s soft voice and it’s choked with emotion.
Nathan shifts, not entirely comfortable with the scene. He doesn’t want to cry. Can’t.
“Dad?” comes Claire’s voice right after, tentative and searching.
Peter has one arm held out and Nathan awkwardly shuffles over, barely touching them, then pulling them both into a large hug.
Both have come back from the dead and Nathan wasn’t sure he’d ever find either of them at least some point in his life.
But now, smelling the herbal shampoo his daughter uses, Peter’s cologne, and feeling how protective they are of one another, and in turn him, Nathan knows then. That despite Linderman, despite the crazy powers thing, and the fact that Peter may still explode despite having gained some sense of control of his powers, they’re going to be okay.
With his mother looking on, Nathan thinks he may have found happy and meaning together, after all.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-03-13 10:58 pm (UTC)Loved the scene with Peter as they realize who Peter saved and who saved Peter in Texas. Wheee! I want it to happen just like this on the show.
Thank you.
no subject
Date: 2007-03-15 12:38 am (UTC):-D
no subject
Date: 2007-03-14 11:56 pm (UTC)And I quite enjoyed your characterization of Nathan!
no subject
Date: 2007-03-15 12:40 am (UTC)Ah, Nathan. I love his character so much.
Thanks for reading!!
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Date: 2007-03-15 06:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-19 06:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-16 08:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-19 06:22 am (UTC)