Contingency 3/? (Claire/Isaac hiatus fic Heroes/Incidental Heroes)
Title: Contingency
Rating: R
Spoilers: Everything up to Parasite, with speculation taken from .07 Percent spoilers, all the way up to Episode 9: Return, of Incidental Heroes. No doubt will become vastly AU once the hiatus ends.
Pairings: Isaac/Claire, others to be determined.
Characters: Isaac, Peter, Claire, MacKenzie (IHeroes), as well as the rest of the Heroes cast.
Genre: Action, Drama, Romance, It uses Incidental Heroes storylines and characters, so is arguably Crossover.
Warnings: Speculation!fic, character deaths, some underage themes.
Summary: Is destiny set in stone, immobile? Can disaster ever truly be prevented? And can a broken soul ever find salvation? Four broken heroes will do anything to make certain they can be.
Disclaimer: Hells no, do I own Heroes.
AN: Seeing the Nathan/Peter clip made me write this chapter. I had to. Also, spoilery for a specific scene in .07%--but reworded to fit my purposes.
--
Contingency
Chapter 3
He looked so strong, when she finally looked up at him, strong, soliditary, and sad. His eyes were red-rimmed, and his jaw was set against the tears that must have demanded to consume him, but she remembered when she had arrived.
"This wasn't the way it was supposed to be! You weren't supposed to die...not like this...not like this...Peter..."
She had only just entered the main foyer, and couldn't see the room the voice was coming from, but there was no mistaking the grief in his high-pitched, choked voice. There was nothing of that cool, collected politician she had heard last time. No self assurance or aloofness...
Her heart shattered before she even entered the room.
Angela, her grandmother--it was so strange to use that phrase, 5 years after her 'real' one had died. What was real anymore, anyway? The father she thought had rejected her, held her as tightly as if he had known her all of her life, and the man who was her invincible hero lay dead on a footrest-thing. Her 'grandmother' was pacing, and her 'father' was watching in stony silence.
It was so bizarre to call this her family. So wrong to find out her hero was her uncle only after he had died. Nothing made sense in this world anymore. Nothing mattered.
"...I'm resigning." His voice was so sudden, she almost jumped. But he wasn't talking to her, he was talking to the woman, who whipped around to face him with a stern frown on her face before he continued, voice stronger than before. "Tomorrow. I don't care about the election anymore. Peter's dead."
"Listen to yourself!" Angela snapped, fists clenched. "After all you've worked for, you're just going to throw it away? Do you think Peter would want that?"
"I'm not going to go on and pretend nothing happened for the sake of some stupid election!" He retorted, arms falling away from Claire, as he stepped forward. "It's always for the election! Everything I do I excuse, because I can't let it mess it up! I've done too much! No more--not this time!"
The woman--Angela--shook her head slowly. "You're not acting yourself now, it's understandable. We'll talk about this later."
"It's not going to change later, Mom." He insisted sternly. "I won't pretend everything is okay, and sweep my brother's death under the rug!"
Claire shook her head, falling to her knees next to the form of her hero. How did she get into this mess? Why was she here? Wasn't this family, Peter...her father...whomever--weren't they supposed to save her from her life? Give her answers in this chaos?
Unbidden, tears flowed once more, as she clutched on to what was left of her hero. She wanted her father--her real father--back, she wanted her mother, and Lyle, and school, and Peter, she wanted a normal life back.
Was that too much to ask?
Peter...oh, Peter, please come back...please...please...
---
The figure in front of him gave him a bitter smirk. "So you're telling me."
He would have rolled his eyes, but he didn't want to put in the effort to do so. Eternity with the one person he would have loved to never see again. What exactly had provoked this level of hell? And was it really Isaac, or just some ethereal manifestation, created to torment him?
"I have nothing to say to you." He spat, turning back around. "Just because I have to spend eternity with you, doesn't mean I can't spend it in silence."
"Peter, I'm not dead." The voice said, accent heavier than he remembered. "Not yet, anyway."
He glared over his shoulder. "And that's supposed to console me, how?"
"It means you're not dead, either. Not unless I've suddenly gained the ability to see and talk to dead people."
He turned around then, arching an eyebrow. "And where is this supposed to be, then?"
"I don't know." The figure shrugged. "Maybe some sort of half-way house?"
"And we're...the only two people in it?"
"Look. I don't know what's going on any more than you do." He huffed, pointing at him. "The last thing I remember, that Sylar guy is closing in on me, and then I see...this...this girl, and she led me here. And then you wandered in."
Peter smirked. "Sounds like you're dead to me."
"I'm not." He insisted. "He never delivered the last blow. And my wrists still hurt. I shouldn't feel any pain if I'm dead."
Peter frowned, mentally checking himself for injuries, and finding none. "I don't feel any pain."
"So? Maybe you stole some numbness, or something."
He narrowed his eyes. "I don't steal, I copy."
Still, he had a point. Regeneration might have healed all of his wounds already, although it begged the question--why was he here, if he wasn't hurt? "So why are we here?"
Isaac shrugged. "That woman seemed to want us to meet. She's probably...probably different, too."
Peter sighed. "What for?"
"I don't know." Isaac shook his head, lips twisting into a sardonic smile. "But forgive me for grasping at straws--as soon as I go back, I'm going to die, so I'm inclined to prolong this visit, no matter the foul company."
"Good riddance." Peter shot, crossing his arms. "I, for one, can't wait for this to be over."
Isaac shook his head in silence, clearly fuming, before starting to pace. "I don't know what your problem with me even is! You stole my girlfriend, took all the credit for saving that cheerleader, attacked me, and are going to blow up New York!"
"You lost Simone, I didn't take her!" Peter hissed, heart throbbing at the mention of the woman he so recently lost--thanks to the man claiming innocence. "And then you killed her!"
The man whirled on him, eyes shining with barely held tears. "She's only dead because of you! I loved her!"
"You shot her!"
"I meant to shoot you!" Isaac's face crumpled, before he turned away, refusing to meet Peter's gaze. "I was trying to save New York."
"So was I!"
That got him to look at him again, exasperation and fury written in the man's features. "How the hell was I supposed to know that?!"
"Maybe you should mind your own business!"
"I painted it first!" He cried, flinging an arm up toward nothingness to accentuate his point. "You wouldn't even have known about the cheerleader if it wasn't for me!"
"Hiro told me about her, not you!" He challenged. "You were too busy shooting up to answer the door, remember?!"
"Oh, and you think you could have found her without my help?!"
"I would have done anything it took!"
Isaac sneered at him then. "You would never have found her! You've always been a lost sheep looking to anyone around you for guidance. You saw a damn painting of a falling man and took it as as sign to jump off a building! I'm just regretful you didn't kill yourself doing it!"
He was sure he would have flung the man across the room long ago if he had the ability. As things stood, he seemed unable to. "And how'd you figure that one out? See it in one of your little 'visions'?"
"No." Isaac looked far too smug for his tastes. "Simone told me. Guess your secrets weren't as safe with her as you thought."
"You should have left her alone and accepted the fact that she'd left you!"
"Oh, what, for you?" Disdain was evident in his voice as he indicated his head toward Peter. "You were just a rebound boy after a fight."
He picked up a nearby goblet from a table and flung it at the image of the painter. Unfortunately, it simply shimmered through him.
"Oh, nice...can't even have a conversation without attacking people anymore, can you?" Isaac sneered. "I might shoot up, but at least I don't try to kill everyone who disagrees with me."
"Oh, not anyone, Isaac. Just you." He was vaguely surprised the venom dripping from his words wasn't visible. "I hope this gets over soon, and I hope Sylar takes his time killing you. The only thing I wish I could change, is that I could be there to watch him do it."
"You wouldn't be able to stomach it." He snorted.
"Its amazing what one can handle for one's satisfaction." Peter retorted.
"I'm sure you know all about handling yourself for satisfaction."
Peter did roll his eyes, then. "I'm not even going to respond to that."
"Fine by me." Isaac huffed, sitting in a nearby chair. "I've changed my mind. I'd rather weather Sylar's tasteless remarks, than spend any more time talking to you."
"Good!" Peter snapped, sitting in another. "Maybe I can finally be alone, then!"
"Like hell."
"Oh, what? You're just going to will yourself to stay here to spite me?" It was Peter's turn to sneer this time. "Now there's maturity!"
"Like I have a lot to look forward to, aside from spite? If I can drive you mad first, I can die happy."
"Good luck with that one. Nathan's tried that about 20 million times on me over my lifetime." And he to Nathan, really. But that was aside from the point.
"Nathan's a smarmy asshole. I think I can do better."
"Nathan's worth twenty junkies like you."
"What would you know?" Isaac countered. "You're a pampered rich boy who's never had to work for anything in his life."
"I'm a graduated nurse. At least I accomplished something in my life."
"Like anyone's going to remember you after you're gone." Isaac laughed, then. "Your brother's probably already brushed you under the table to preserve his image."
Surprisingly, that hurt. He wondered how much he had secretly thought that same thing.
"Why hasn't Sylar ripped off your head already?"
"Maybe he's enjoying the conversation."
"I'm sure six year old humor would appeal to him."
"It's not my fault if your insults are pathetic, Peter."
Peter sighed in disgust, burying his face into the heels of his palms. Why wouldn't it end already?! Was this really hell, and he was just leading him on all this time? Why couldn't he have been trapped with anyone in the entire existence of this world but Isaac?
--
She had never actually been hit with a lead weight. In fact, the heaviest thing she had been hit with was when someone had tossed a long couch coushin at her when she wasn't looking, and knocked her back into the wall. Admittedly, they had thrown it rather hard, and it wasn't exactly light.
The tightness in her lungs was far worse than when she had been pinned by the coushin.
"...Why?"
He looked genuinely sad. "I'm sorry, MacKenzie."
She swallowed a lump in her throat, and shook her head, eyes burning tears. "This...Shawn..."
He gave her a sad smile.
She curled her knees up to her chin, unable to bear looking at him any longer, shaking her head. "Why...why'd you have to..." She trailed off, covering her mouth with her hand, closing her eyes against the tears in a futile effort to stem them. "After all this...after everything...I couldn't...I couldn't even save you."
"It's not your fault, MacKenzie."
"If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't even have been in this mess!"
A ghostly hand moved over hers as her friend leaned closer to give what comfort he could. "I told you, it's not your fault. This had nothing to do with you--you know that."
She shook her head softly.
"You can't give up, MacKenzie!" He insisted. "Not now! They need you!"
She laughed mirthlessly, a bitter smile on her lips as she shook her head. "What can I do? What does it matter? The show will go however its written...obviously it doesn't matter what I do."
"Don't say that, MacKenzie!" He sighed. "Why else were you given these...these powers, if not to help people?! And you know as well as I do, it's not just a TV show!"
She hiccoughed slightly, wishing her friend were material enough to hug. "I don't know what to do, Shawn."
He pointed in the direction the nurse had come from.
When she followed his hand inquisitively, she almost jumped. The wall and door were gone, replaced with a hazy, ethereal-looking room, within which were two familiar sulking figures, who seemed determined not to acknowledge each others' presence.
"Save them."
CH End
-------
AN: Wow. I have to make a mental note to bring a leash next time I let Isaac and Peter run around free.
Rating: R
Spoilers: Everything up to Parasite, with speculation taken from .07 Percent spoilers, all the way up to Episode 9: Return, of Incidental Heroes. No doubt will become vastly AU once the hiatus ends.
Pairings: Isaac/Claire, others to be determined.
Characters: Isaac, Peter, Claire, MacKenzie (IHeroes), as well as the rest of the Heroes cast.
Genre: Action, Drama, Romance, It uses Incidental Heroes storylines and characters, so is arguably Crossover.
Warnings: Speculation!fic, character deaths, some underage themes.
Summary: Is destiny set in stone, immobile? Can disaster ever truly be prevented? And can a broken soul ever find salvation? Four broken heroes will do anything to make certain they can be.
Disclaimer: Hells no, do I own Heroes.
AN: Seeing the Nathan/Peter clip made me write this chapter. I had to. Also, spoilery for a specific scene in .07%--but reworded to fit my purposes.
--
Contingency
Chapter 3
He looked so strong, when she finally looked up at him, strong, soliditary, and sad. His eyes were red-rimmed, and his jaw was set against the tears that must have demanded to consume him, but she remembered when she had arrived.
"This wasn't the way it was supposed to be! You weren't supposed to die...not like this...not like this...Peter..."
She had only just entered the main foyer, and couldn't see the room the voice was coming from, but there was no mistaking the grief in his high-pitched, choked voice. There was nothing of that cool, collected politician she had heard last time. No self assurance or aloofness...
Her heart shattered before she even entered the room.
Angela, her grandmother--it was so strange to use that phrase, 5 years after her 'real' one had died. What was real anymore, anyway? The father she thought had rejected her, held her as tightly as if he had known her all of her life, and the man who was her invincible hero lay dead on a footrest-thing. Her 'grandmother' was pacing, and her 'father' was watching in stony silence.
It was so bizarre to call this her family. So wrong to find out her hero was her uncle only after he had died. Nothing made sense in this world anymore. Nothing mattered.
"...I'm resigning." His voice was so sudden, she almost jumped. But he wasn't talking to her, he was talking to the woman, who whipped around to face him with a stern frown on her face before he continued, voice stronger than before. "Tomorrow. I don't care about the election anymore. Peter's dead."
"Listen to yourself!" Angela snapped, fists clenched. "After all you've worked for, you're just going to throw it away? Do you think Peter would want that?"
"I'm not going to go on and pretend nothing happened for the sake of some stupid election!" He retorted, arms falling away from Claire, as he stepped forward. "It's always for the election! Everything I do I excuse, because I can't let it mess it up! I've done too much! No more--not this time!"
The woman--Angela--shook her head slowly. "You're not acting yourself now, it's understandable. We'll talk about this later."
"It's not going to change later, Mom." He insisted sternly. "I won't pretend everything is okay, and sweep my brother's death under the rug!"
Claire shook her head, falling to her knees next to the form of her hero. How did she get into this mess? Why was she here? Wasn't this family, Peter...her father...whomever--weren't they supposed to save her from her life? Give her answers in this chaos?
Unbidden, tears flowed once more, as she clutched on to what was left of her hero. She wanted her father--her real father--back, she wanted her mother, and Lyle, and school, and Peter, she wanted a normal life back.
Was that too much to ask?
Peter...oh, Peter, please come back...please...please...
---
The figure in front of him gave him a bitter smirk. "So you're telling me."
He would have rolled his eyes, but he didn't want to put in the effort to do so. Eternity with the one person he would have loved to never see again. What exactly had provoked this level of hell? And was it really Isaac, or just some ethereal manifestation, created to torment him?
"I have nothing to say to you." He spat, turning back around. "Just because I have to spend eternity with you, doesn't mean I can't spend it in silence."
"Peter, I'm not dead." The voice said, accent heavier than he remembered. "Not yet, anyway."
He glared over his shoulder. "And that's supposed to console me, how?"
"It means you're not dead, either. Not unless I've suddenly gained the ability to see and talk to dead people."
He turned around then, arching an eyebrow. "And where is this supposed to be, then?"
"I don't know." The figure shrugged. "Maybe some sort of half-way house?"
"And we're...the only two people in it?"
"Look. I don't know what's going on any more than you do." He huffed, pointing at him. "The last thing I remember, that Sylar guy is closing in on me, and then I see...this...this girl, and she led me here. And then you wandered in."
Peter smirked. "Sounds like you're dead to me."
"I'm not." He insisted. "He never delivered the last blow. And my wrists still hurt. I shouldn't feel any pain if I'm dead."
Peter frowned, mentally checking himself for injuries, and finding none. "I don't feel any pain."
"So? Maybe you stole some numbness, or something."
He narrowed his eyes. "I don't steal, I copy."
Still, he had a point. Regeneration might have healed all of his wounds already, although it begged the question--why was he here, if he wasn't hurt? "So why are we here?"
Isaac shrugged. "That woman seemed to want us to meet. She's probably...probably different, too."
Peter sighed. "What for?"
"I don't know." Isaac shook his head, lips twisting into a sardonic smile. "But forgive me for grasping at straws--as soon as I go back, I'm going to die, so I'm inclined to prolong this visit, no matter the foul company."
"Good riddance." Peter shot, crossing his arms. "I, for one, can't wait for this to be over."
Isaac shook his head in silence, clearly fuming, before starting to pace. "I don't know what your problem with me even is! You stole my girlfriend, took all the credit for saving that cheerleader, attacked me, and are going to blow up New York!"
"You lost Simone, I didn't take her!" Peter hissed, heart throbbing at the mention of the woman he so recently lost--thanks to the man claiming innocence. "And then you killed her!"
The man whirled on him, eyes shining with barely held tears. "She's only dead because of you! I loved her!"
"You shot her!"
"I meant to shoot you!" Isaac's face crumpled, before he turned away, refusing to meet Peter's gaze. "I was trying to save New York."
"So was I!"
That got him to look at him again, exasperation and fury written in the man's features. "How the hell was I supposed to know that?!"
"Maybe you should mind your own business!"
"I painted it first!" He cried, flinging an arm up toward nothingness to accentuate his point. "You wouldn't even have known about the cheerleader if it wasn't for me!"
"Hiro told me about her, not you!" He challenged. "You were too busy shooting up to answer the door, remember?!"
"Oh, and you think you could have found her without my help?!"
"I would have done anything it took!"
Isaac sneered at him then. "You would never have found her! You've always been a lost sheep looking to anyone around you for guidance. You saw a damn painting of a falling man and took it as as sign to jump off a building! I'm just regretful you didn't kill yourself doing it!"
He was sure he would have flung the man across the room long ago if he had the ability. As things stood, he seemed unable to. "And how'd you figure that one out? See it in one of your little 'visions'?"
"No." Isaac looked far too smug for his tastes. "Simone told me. Guess your secrets weren't as safe with her as you thought."
"You should have left her alone and accepted the fact that she'd left you!"
"Oh, what, for you?" Disdain was evident in his voice as he indicated his head toward Peter. "You were just a rebound boy after a fight."
He picked up a nearby goblet from a table and flung it at the image of the painter. Unfortunately, it simply shimmered through him.
"Oh, nice...can't even have a conversation without attacking people anymore, can you?" Isaac sneered. "I might shoot up, but at least I don't try to kill everyone who disagrees with me."
"Oh, not anyone, Isaac. Just you." He was vaguely surprised the venom dripping from his words wasn't visible. "I hope this gets over soon, and I hope Sylar takes his time killing you. The only thing I wish I could change, is that I could be there to watch him do it."
"You wouldn't be able to stomach it." He snorted.
"Its amazing what one can handle for one's satisfaction." Peter retorted.
"I'm sure you know all about handling yourself for satisfaction."
Peter did roll his eyes, then. "I'm not even going to respond to that."
"Fine by me." Isaac huffed, sitting in a nearby chair. "I've changed my mind. I'd rather weather Sylar's tasteless remarks, than spend any more time talking to you."
"Good!" Peter snapped, sitting in another. "Maybe I can finally be alone, then!"
"Like hell."
"Oh, what? You're just going to will yourself to stay here to spite me?" It was Peter's turn to sneer this time. "Now there's maturity!"
"Like I have a lot to look forward to, aside from spite? If I can drive you mad first, I can die happy."
"Good luck with that one. Nathan's tried that about 20 million times on me over my lifetime." And he to Nathan, really. But that was aside from the point.
"Nathan's a smarmy asshole. I think I can do better."
"Nathan's worth twenty junkies like you."
"What would you know?" Isaac countered. "You're a pampered rich boy who's never had to work for anything in his life."
"I'm a graduated nurse. At least I accomplished something in my life."
"Like anyone's going to remember you after you're gone." Isaac laughed, then. "Your brother's probably already brushed you under the table to preserve his image."
Surprisingly, that hurt. He wondered how much he had secretly thought that same thing.
"Why hasn't Sylar ripped off your head already?"
"Maybe he's enjoying the conversation."
"I'm sure six year old humor would appeal to him."
"It's not my fault if your insults are pathetic, Peter."
Peter sighed in disgust, burying his face into the heels of his palms. Why wouldn't it end already?! Was this really hell, and he was just leading him on all this time? Why couldn't he have been trapped with anyone in the entire existence of this world but Isaac?
--
She had never actually been hit with a lead weight. In fact, the heaviest thing she had been hit with was when someone had tossed a long couch coushin at her when she wasn't looking, and knocked her back into the wall. Admittedly, they had thrown it rather hard, and it wasn't exactly light.
The tightness in her lungs was far worse than when she had been pinned by the coushin.
"...Why?"
He looked genuinely sad. "I'm sorry, MacKenzie."
She swallowed a lump in her throat, and shook her head, eyes burning tears. "This...Shawn..."
He gave her a sad smile.
She curled her knees up to her chin, unable to bear looking at him any longer, shaking her head. "Why...why'd you have to..." She trailed off, covering her mouth with her hand, closing her eyes against the tears in a futile effort to stem them. "After all this...after everything...I couldn't...I couldn't even save you."
"It's not your fault, MacKenzie."
"If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't even have been in this mess!"
A ghostly hand moved over hers as her friend leaned closer to give what comfort he could. "I told you, it's not your fault. This had nothing to do with you--you know that."
She shook her head softly.
"You can't give up, MacKenzie!" He insisted. "Not now! They need you!"
She laughed mirthlessly, a bitter smile on her lips as she shook her head. "What can I do? What does it matter? The show will go however its written...obviously it doesn't matter what I do."
"Don't say that, MacKenzie!" He sighed. "Why else were you given these...these powers, if not to help people?! And you know as well as I do, it's not just a TV show!"
She hiccoughed slightly, wishing her friend were material enough to hug. "I don't know what to do, Shawn."
He pointed in the direction the nurse had come from.
When she followed his hand inquisitively, she almost jumped. The wall and door were gone, replaced with a hazy, ethereal-looking room, within which were two familiar sulking figures, who seemed determined not to acknowledge each others' presence.
"Save them."
CH End
-------
AN: Wow. I have to make a mental note to bring a leash next time I let Isaac and Peter run around free.