writerfangirl (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
writerfangirl) wrote2010-01-17 01:41 am
writerfangirl) wrote2010-01-17 01:41 am
Drabble For ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
wiccanslyr
Prompt: Peter, Claude - Not invisible anymore
Title: Reconnection
Rating: PG-13 (for swearing and description of Sylar's nastiness)
Spoilers: Through "Let it Bleed" (and knowledge of relatively recent Heroes comics is a plus)
Words: 777
Disclaimer: Nobody belongs to me.
“You're afraid, Poodle. That'll let the bad guys win every time,” Claude said as he brought the staff down toward Peter's face. “Gives um an edge. You're the most powerful of us on the planet and...”
“Was,” Peter replied, ducking out of range of the staff, “and I'm not...”
“Not what? Not afraid or not the most powerful?” Claude recovered and spun the staff. “Now you're runnin' instead of fighting. Didn't teach you to be like me.” Claude smiled at his own remark of self-deprecation.
“I found a different way,” Peter replied, finding it difficult to look at him, but looking at the roof wall behind Claude was difficult too.
“Heart's not in it. And that's what's wrong, Poodle: throwin' yourself into every little problem that you can find. What about your own life? You're just leaving it to rot.”
That was the wrong choice of words on Claude's part because they filled Peter with a fiery hatred for his former mentor—even if Claude was right. Peter began walking toward Claude, but then stopped himself. Hesam had told him the same thing but not as bluntly as Claude. Not as cruel, either.
“Nothing I can do about it,” Peter weakly protested.
“Bollocks. Don't wanna be in the position you're in, do something about it. You'll just waste your life away, Peter. The death of your brother won't have meant anything.”
Peter narrowed his eyes on Claude, but didn't say anything.
“You're the only one who can avenge your brother, and you don't need me tellin' you something that you already know. Stop making excuses, stop lying to yourself, and pick your battles for your life.”
Peter wanted to hurt Claude, wanted to push him off the roof like Claude had done to him years ago. He wanted to do so many things that he didn't actually do. Because Claude was right about all of it and attacking Claude would be trying to ignore the truth. More than that, it would be trying to deny the truth. But he couldn't deny something that he actually knew. Peter bowed his head.
Claude smiled lopsidedly and nodded. He set the staff down and then picked up two green bottles of ale the he had stashed by the bird cages. He offered one of the bottles to Peter. “Was afraid that I was gonna have to clock you for you to finally accept it.”
Peter took the bottle and popped the cap off. “I don't think I'll ever fully accept it,” Peter said and took a long sip from the bottle. The thought of getting drunk up here made him feel a pang of pain in his stomach, but soon the alcohol would help with filling the void, even if it was temporary.
“You admitted it. That's the first step, mate.” Claude looked at Peter and put his arm around him. “You'll get there.”
Sylar had hurt or killed his entire family. He was after Claire a few years ago and then finally got what he wanted last year. He didn't kill her then to take her power, he physically violated her. Bennet had told Peter what had happened. Then Sylar hurt his mother, even hurt Peter himself on multiple occasions. Finally, Sylar killed his brother. Sylar didn't kill Nathan the usual way he murdered his victims: Sylar cut across Nathan's throat and let his brother bleed out.
Peter couldn't imagine the pain his brother must have experienced in those final minutes of life. Because until Nathan bled out, he would have been alive, chocking, unable to breathe, and unable to stop the bleeding.
Peter squeezed the bottle he was holding, causing it to shatter into many pieces. He winced. A large, jagged piece of glass cut into his palm. He ripped the glass away and watched as the cut healed itself. He stared at his palm where the cut had been. “Tha...I....”
Claude smiled, completely calm despite Peter's surprise and lack of composure. “Who you are, mate, like I said.”
Peter slowly wiped the blood away with the sleeve of his shirt, looking intently at the undamaged skin. He swallowed hard.
“West told me Claire called him and had him see you a few days ago. You needed to touch him to get flight again, he said.”
Peter nodded, still staring at the undamaged skin. He swallowed again and laughed. He wiped his tears away and started to float. This wasn't West's ability; this was his brother's. “Thanks, Claude.”
“Don't mention it, mate,” Claude replied, deeply sipping from his ale.
Title: Reconnection
Rating: PG-13 (for swearing and description of Sylar's nastiness)
Spoilers: Through "Let it Bleed" (and knowledge of relatively recent Heroes comics is a plus)
Words: 777
Disclaimer: Nobody belongs to me.
“You're afraid, Poodle. That'll let the bad guys win every time,” Claude said as he brought the staff down toward Peter's face. “Gives um an edge. You're the most powerful of us on the planet and...”
“Was,” Peter replied, ducking out of range of the staff, “and I'm not...”
“Not what? Not afraid or not the most powerful?” Claude recovered and spun the staff. “Now you're runnin' instead of fighting. Didn't teach you to be like me.” Claude smiled at his own remark of self-deprecation.
“I found a different way,” Peter replied, finding it difficult to look at him, but looking at the roof wall behind Claude was difficult too.
“Heart's not in it. And that's what's wrong, Poodle: throwin' yourself into every little problem that you can find. What about your own life? You're just leaving it to rot.”
That was the wrong choice of words on Claude's part because they filled Peter with a fiery hatred for his former mentor—even if Claude was right. Peter began walking toward Claude, but then stopped himself. Hesam had told him the same thing but not as bluntly as Claude. Not as cruel, either.
“Nothing I can do about it,” Peter weakly protested.
“Bollocks. Don't wanna be in the position you're in, do something about it. You'll just waste your life away, Peter. The death of your brother won't have meant anything.”
Peter narrowed his eyes on Claude, but didn't say anything.
“You're the only one who can avenge your brother, and you don't need me tellin' you something that you already know. Stop making excuses, stop lying to yourself, and pick your battles for your life.”
Peter wanted to hurt Claude, wanted to push him off the roof like Claude had done to him years ago. He wanted to do so many things that he didn't actually do. Because Claude was right about all of it and attacking Claude would be trying to ignore the truth. More than that, it would be trying to deny the truth. But he couldn't deny something that he actually knew. Peter bowed his head.
Claude smiled lopsidedly and nodded. He set the staff down and then picked up two green bottles of ale the he had stashed by the bird cages. He offered one of the bottles to Peter. “Was afraid that I was gonna have to clock you for you to finally accept it.”
Peter took the bottle and popped the cap off. “I don't think I'll ever fully accept it,” Peter said and took a long sip from the bottle. The thought of getting drunk up here made him feel a pang of pain in his stomach, but soon the alcohol would help with filling the void, even if it was temporary.
“You admitted it. That's the first step, mate.” Claude looked at Peter and put his arm around him. “You'll get there.”
Sylar had hurt or killed his entire family. He was after Claire a few years ago and then finally got what he wanted last year. He didn't kill her then to take her power, he physically violated her. Bennet had told Peter what had happened. Then Sylar hurt his mother, even hurt Peter himself on multiple occasions. Finally, Sylar killed his brother. Sylar didn't kill Nathan the usual way he murdered his victims: Sylar cut across Nathan's throat and let his brother bleed out.
Peter couldn't imagine the pain his brother must have experienced in those final minutes of life. Because until Nathan bled out, he would have been alive, chocking, unable to breathe, and unable to stop the bleeding.
Peter squeezed the bottle he was holding, causing it to shatter into many pieces. He winced. A large, jagged piece of glass cut into his palm. He ripped the glass away and watched as the cut healed itself. He stared at his palm where the cut had been. “Tha...I....”
Claude smiled, completely calm despite Peter's surprise and lack of composure. “Who you are, mate, like I said.”
Peter slowly wiped the blood away with the sleeve of his shirt, looking intently at the undamaged skin. He swallowed hard.
“West told me Claire called him and had him see you a few days ago. You needed to touch him to get flight again, he said.”
Peter nodded, still staring at the undamaged skin. He swallowed again and laughed. He wiped his tears away and started to float. This wasn't West's ability; this was his brother's. “Thanks, Claude.”
“Don't mention it, mate,” Claude replied, deeply sipping from his ale.
no subject