Fic: To Battle the Inevitable, One-Shot (Angela, Peter/Claire)
Title: To Battle the Inevitable
Rating: PG-15
Genre: Angst/Romance/Hurt/Comfort
Pairings: Peter/Claire
Warnings: Incest, implied sex, some dark themes, character death.
Summary: “Peter had completely destroyed himself, the dreamy son she once prided in having was now lost somewhere along the path of anguish and angst” Angela watches Peter sink deeper into depression and she knows that Claire is the only one who can revive him...
A/N: So this has been on my computer for a while, I didn’t get a chance to finish it. A lot of themes are similar to my one shot, “It’s Comfort, its Hope”. It pained me to write this because of Nathan’s death factor but…it had to be done. Of course, HOW Nathan died is still unsure, (and I hope not something we’ll have to see) I just gave my own theory which is that Peter took Claire and fled the building, leaving Nathan to deal with Sylar. I think I’ve developed this “thing” for writing Paire and highlighting their need for each other…sometimes its Claire who needs Peter, sometimes it Peter who needs Claire…Heh… I blame it on the writers for not giving us enough Paire this season: / But I don’t know if I’m complaining exactly… I’ve never been THIS inspired to write Paire…EVER: P hahahaha… At any rate, I hope you enjoy! :D Sorry for the long lyrics in the beginning but it’s what I was listening to while writing this and it fits and I REALLY encourage you to read it, if not…just skim through it.…the song will be playing anyways : )
To Battle the Inevitable
…
And I’ve lost who I am
And I can't understand
Why my heart is so broken
Rejecting your love
Without love gone wrong
Lifeless words carry on
But I know, all I know
Is that the ends beginning
Who I am from the start
Take me home to my heart
Let me go
And I will run
I will not be silenced
All is lost
Hope remains
and this war's not over
There’s a light
there’s the sun
taking all the shattered ones
to the place we belong
and love will conquer…
-Shattered, Trading Yesterday (More Than This album version)
…
The sound of the front door crashing open caused Claire to jump and turn around but Angela didn’t move a muscle. She continued to work on her dinner with her knife and fork. She didn’t need to look around to know the intruder was Peter.
She felt sorry for her son, immensely sorry. Nathan’s death had affected everyone. Claire, in particular, but Peter had seemed to delve the deepest into the pits of guilt and sorrow. He blamed himself for fleeing the building with Claire, leaving his brother behind, blamed himself for his death…
Her son was no longer the empath he once was but empathy was a permanent part of his nature, inseparable, no matter how many scales it varied. He absorbed the sadness and grief from around him, and it only magnified his guilty instincts. Peter had completely destroyed himself, the dreamy son she once prided in having was now lost somewhere along the path of anguish and angst.
No longer having Claire’s regeneration ability all the time to hinder his attempts, he turned to drowning himself in the intoxication alcohol brought with it. He would come home, drunk and bloody from fights she knew he’d intentionally get himself into. Claire would rush to his side immediately and Angela would watch the desperate worried expression on her face as the young woman tried in vain to touch Peter, any part of him. Force him to take her ability. She would watch the look of hurt she tried so desperately to hide when Peter would push her away, pull away from her grip; avoid her touch as if it were poison to his skin.
He refused. He always refused. He refused to take her power, to get rid of the wounds, the pain. Angela knew he wanted them to remain, knew that he thought the more pain he bore the more it would make up for the act he thought he’d done. He distanced himself from them, not thinking him worthy of earning their sympathy.
She had long ago started to hide the pain she felt at the loss of her eldest son. It was for his sake, for Peter’s sake. The more he saw someone grieving over Nathan, the more regretful he’d feel; the more he’d inflict pain on himself. It was tearing Angela apart seeing her son break down like this; it was enough losing one son but it seemed she was losing her other…
It was undeniable that Claire was affected possibly more than Angela was herself with Peter’s behavior. Angela was all too aware of Claire’s feelings for Peter. She loved him; in the simplest, most pure sense of the word. She had seen the connection the two shared, the way they were bound to one another, the way they seemed to keep the other together and had it not been for their shared DNA, Angela would have never batted an eye over the question of their being together. But circumstances were different and though Angela had never once brought it up but she was silently thankful that Claire kept her true feelings hidden.
Angela Petrelli may have been a woman of secrets but this one, she was afraid, would be too much, even for her.
Angela prayed every night before sleeping for a sign of what to do to save her son, to bring back her old Peter. But every morning she’d wake up with nothing. But this night, it was different. That morning had brought with it answers, answers she was relieved but not altogether surprised with.
Angela looked at Claire who was still staring at the door to the dining room in hopes of Peter emerging. She smiled slightly to herself as she put her knife and fork down.
“He wont be coming here, I’m afraid.” She said. Claire turned to look at Angela, her face miserable and the elder woman’s heart ached for her. “Why don’t you try and talk to him?” she suggested softly. Claire bit her lip, and Angela smiled reassuringly, “It may just work this time,” she said.
Claire frowned, regarding her with a slightly suspicious look. Angela knew she was thinking over the hint she had provided her with. Claire nodded finally, excusing herself and exiting the dining room. Angela watched her go, taking a sip of her wine and toasting destiny’s cruel sense of humor.
…
Claire couldn’t stop the apprehension from surfacing as she climbed the stairs to Peter’s room. She was afraid of what she’d find, of how she’d find him. She hoped Angela was right; that this night would be different, that Peter would listen to her. She stood outside his bedroom door for a moment, contemplating on whether to knock or not. She knew for a fact he’d never reply if she knocked; he’d just tell her to go away.
So she took a deep breath and pushed the door open. The room was dark and she had to wait a moment for her eyes to adjust to the sudden darkness. After blinking a couple of times, she made out Peter’s form slumped against the foot of the bed. Her heart ached the second she set eyes on him. His shoulders were slumped, his head bent.
She shook her head and walked over to him. He didn’t respond or look up at her and she stood over him awkwardly for a moment before kneeling down next to him. She could see him much more clearly now thanks to the moonlight streaming in from the window opposite them. She gasped when she saw the most recent wounds he bore. There were nasty gashes along the side of his face, his lip bleeding, dry blood caking his clothes and hair.
She couldn’t stop the tears from falling as she looked at him. Her hero; reduced to this. She shook her head, swallowing a painful lump in her throat. “Oh Peter, what have you done?” she asked in a broken voice. Peter closed his eyes, but didn’t reply. She reached forward to touch his face but he instinctively moved out of her reach.
“Just leave Claire…” Peter said in a low voice, not looking at her. Claire let her hand linger in midair for a moment before lightly bringing it down to grip his clothed arm. Peter tensed when her fingers wrapped around his arm but relaxed slightly when he figured it was protected from her skin by the fabric of his shirt.
“Let me help you…please…”She begged.
Peter shook his head, “I deserve this Claire…” he said eliciting a fresh batch of tears from Claire at the painful tone he used. “I…I deserve it…”
“No you don’t Peter!” Claire protested, “Look at you! Look at what you’ve done to yourself!” Peter didn’t reply and Claire stared at him miserably for a moment before she stood up, wiping her face of her tears. If he didn’t want her help through her powers, she’d use other means, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to let him sit there in his wounded state and not do anything about it.
She got a bowl of lukewarm water and a towel from the bathroom and went back to Peter. She placed the items on the floor next to her and kneeled down in front of him again. Peter didn’t look at her but his eyes cast a sidelong glance at the bowl and towel she had brought. Claire wet the towel and slowly brought it to his face. Peter finally turned to look at her. Their eyes met and she nearly started crying again when she saw the pain reflected in his. Pain, she was sure, that had nothing to do with his physical injuries.
She gently touched one of his tender wounds with the towel and he winced, closing his eyes immediately. Claire was tempted to brush her fingers along his skin, just a small touch…there would be no need for him to go through this pain then…but she knew if she were to do that, Peter would draw away from her completely and she would lose her chance to talk to him…
So she continued to tend to his wounds by hand, a part of her breaking every time he winced or swallowed in pain.
He didn’t say anything, didn’t protest as she cleaned his face of excess blood with as gentle a touch as she could. She nervously reached out to touch his head, turning it to the side. Peter obliged, allowing her to wipe dried blood off his neck.
“Why are you doing this, Claire?” he asked after a moment in cracked voice, barely above a whisper.
Claire didn’t reply, she finished wiping his neck and put the towel aside. Peter turned to look at her, his face, though cleaner than before, still severely wounded. She met his gaze once more and the tears she had been holding back for so long started welling again.
“Because I care about you Peter,” she whispered.
“I don’t deserve to be cared about. I killed my own brother.” Peter said in a bitter tone.
“You did not kill him,” Claire contradicted immediately.
Peter shook his head, “I did Claire. I killed him. If I had stayed there to save him from Sylar, he would still be alive. It’s my fault...” Claire jumped in surprise as he brought his fist down on the carpet accompanied by an angry whisper of “All… my fault.”
Claire’s protesting ‘no’s’ that followed were drowned out as Peter suddenly banged the back of head against the footboard of the bed, his eyes closed in pain, teeth gritted as he hit his forehead with his fist, repeating “my fault…all my fault…” under his breath
Claire controlled her tears, sitting up and reaching for Peter’s hands. “Peter…” he struggled to escape her hands, “Peter!” She grabbed the sides of his head, halting his movements, “Peter, look at me,” she demanded. Peter opened his eyes slowly and she saw tears in them. She swallowed another lump in her throat as she moved her face closer to his, “Nathan’s death was not your fault.” She said firmly. He opened his mouth to reply but she silenced him, “Nathan died in an act of bravery. If you had stayed there, if you hadn’t taken me and escaped, we’d both be dead too; regeneration or not.”
Peter stared at her for a moment and she stared determinedly back. “Your not the only one who misses him,” she said in a softer tone, “Your forgetting that I lost my father…that Angela lost her son…we’re all grieving…but you…look at what you’ve done to yourself…”. Peter looked away, shaking his head and pushing her away gently, standing up with difficulty.
Claire followed his movements, standing behind him. She reached out a hand and placed it on his back. Peter tensed at her touch. “You need to stop doing this Peter,” she said softly. “You need to stop destroying yourself like this.”
Peter turned to face her, her hand previously placed on his back now on his chest. She could feel his heart beating under her palm and she took a step closer to him. Peter stared down at her and she took his silence as an opportunity to say all she had wished to say for the past months. “Seeing you like this…” she whispered, “it hurts me to an extent I can’t explain. Stop doing this yourself Peter, please. If not for yourself then for me…for Angela…can’t you see we still care about you? I still care about you?”
“You shouldn’t Claire, I don’t deserve it.” Peter repeated quietly.
“Stop saying that Peter…yes, you do…” Claire breathed, “I can understand what you’re going through, really; I can... But this just isn’t…the way to deal with things. Nathan wouldn’t have wanted this…” she said.
“I just…I-I can’t get it out of my head...” Peter said in a broken voice, turning away and dropping down on the bed. Claire sat down beside him, placing a hand on his back.
“He was your brother…It’s difficult to deal with, Peter… I know…” she said gently. “But you don’t need to shut yourself away from us...from me… I’ll always be here…I love you,” she said in a whisper, averting her gaze for a moment before turning to look back at him.
…
Peter turned to look at her tear stained face and this time, he didn’t draw back when she reached out a hand for him. “I need you Peter…I need you back…”She touched his cheek gently and he felt his wounds starting to heal. He kept his eyes locked on hers as she brushed her fingers along the contours of his face.
He was looking at her properly in what seemed like years. He had almost forgotten how heartbreakingly beautiful she was-almost…
She kept her hand on his cheek even after he felt all the wounds heal. He stared at her for a moment before he found himself leaning into her touch. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him into her arms. Peter raised his hands to hold her arms firmly in place and sighed, savoring the comforting feeling of being this close to her. He closed his eyes and buried his face in her shoulder. She gripped him tighter, her fingers twisting in his hair.
Peter lost track of how long he stayed like that; in Claire’s arms. It was too comforting for him to keep his mind fully aware and he lost himself in that comfort. He pulled away eventually, but he didn’t let go of her, just reached out and took her hand instead. Claire smiled at him and he cupped her face in his hands.
Words were insufficient to say how thankful he was that he had her. His gaze dropped to her lips and he looked into her eyes for a long moment before he leaned in, closing the gap between them as his lips met hers.
He kissed her slowly, reminding himself again and again that she was there for him, that he hadn’t lost all those he loved…he still had her, would always have her…that she loved him, even for the sick bastard he was for letting his own brother die…kissing her brought with it a sense of familiarity, it was the first real thing he had experienced in a while and it was such an intoxicating feeling that without realizing it, he began deepening the kiss, pushing against her lips with the tip of his tongue, sliding into her mouth when she granted access.
He pushed her onto the bed lightly, his hand still possessively cupping her cheek while the other slid down to grip her waist. She pulled back gasping for air, her eyes meeting his heated gaze. He smiled at her, his first genuine smile for as long as he could remember. He leaned in and pressed his forehead against hers, their breaths mixing together.
He lightly brushed her lips with a kiss before entwining his hand with hers above their heads, “Thank you,” he breathed. There was nothing else he could say. There was too much to thank her for to just cover in two words but the kiss that followed was so heart felt, Claire didn’t need anything else…
…
Angela watched from the doorway as her son pushed her granddaughter onto the bed, kissing her with such passion she had only known to exist in movies. She watched them commit one of the most unforgivable of sins, a small frown gracing her features before she sighed, gently closing the door.
She turned around and headed back to her own room where sat down, instinctively reaching for the picture of Nathan on her side table. She ran her fingers over the smiling picture, tears welling in her eyes.
Peter and Claire had entered into something there was no turning back from and she knew it was wrong. Very, very wrong…and she had tried to stop it in every way she could…
But some things were greater than one person; some things were meant to be; inevitable. Concealment….denial…they could only last for so long…You could only battle with the inevitable for so long...Charles’ voice echoed in her head and she closed her eyes, remembering the fluttering breeze on the rooftop as he had spoken them, so long ago.
“In the end…all that matters…is love.”
Peter had been lost, lost in the realms of depression and in that state, the only one who could help him was Claire. The only thing strong enough was her love… She was the only light he saw, she was the only cure he had…and something that strong could not be buried, could not be ignored…
Angela opened her eyes and took one last look at Nathan’s picture. “May you rest in peace my dear, dear child…” she whispered. She raised the frame to her lips to kiss her son’s forehead, tears streaming down her face.
She had lost one son, and if keeping her other meant she would have to accept their feelings for each other, she was willing to do so.
…
Claire woke the next morning to the feel of a warm body pressed against her naked back. She turned her head slightly to see Peter’s sleeping face; So peaceful, so serene. She smiled turning back snuggling deeper into his spooned position. She placed a hand over the arm that was draped over her waist and breathed deeply…closing her eyes and savoring the moment as long as she could before she gently disentangled herself from him, making sure not wake him up. She wrapped a sheet around her body, gathering her clothes from the floor.
She emerged from the bathroom half an hour later. She walked up to Peter’s still sleeping form and sat down gingerly on the edge of the bed, reaching out a hand to smooth back his hair, she ran her fingers gently through it before she leaned in and kissed his forehead tenderly.
She entered the Petrelli mansion lounge a while later to find Angela standing near the mantelpiece, staring at the family photos. She turned her head to the side slightly to acknowledge Claire’s presence before turning back. Claire took a deep breath, staring at her grandmother’s back. She bit her lip for a moment before asking in a low voice,
“You knew didn’t you…?”
There was a pause before Angela turned to face her; she stared at her for a moment before she smiled sadly.
“Yes dear…I knew.”