Picking up the Pieces -- PROMPT #13 BROTHER (Heroes, Claisaac)
Title: Picking up the Pieces
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Up to How to Stop An Exploding Man.
Pairings: Isaac/Claire
Characters: Isaac, Claire
Prompt: #13 Brother
Genre: Angst
Warnings: Character deaths, RPG based
Summary: After the world dies, all that's left for the survivors are memories and hope.
Disclaimer: I don't actually own anything. Even the AU is technically Asi's...just modified a little.
AN: Right. So a prompt was due, I needed to write, and I wanted to write about the RPG I'm primarily playing right now. This is based off of The Year of Hell RPG. Technically the RPG is a crossover of Heroes and Doctor Who, but you shouldn't need to know Doctor Who to understand the fic. The basic premise closely follows Five Years Gone, with the exception that certain people (like Isaac and Claire) survived, and with the inclusion of Doctor Who.
This fic is set one year after the events of 5YG (omitting Claire's death). The world has crumbled under Sylar's rule and mass genocides of 'specials', and only a band of rag-tag rebels truly resist him any longer. Ideally, this is set after the conclusion of it, sans DW's role in it.
--
Picking up the Pieces
"He was nineteen."
He turned his head to glance at the young woman sitting near him. Dark brown hair fell to her waist, and tangled in the wind, brushing across her face and neck. She wore a simple red shirt and jeans, and had pulled her knees up to tuck under her chin. An unreadable expression shone in her eyes as she observed the empty gorge before them, hazel eyes lingering on a vision known only to her.
She returned his glance briefly. "Lyle. He was two years younger than me."
He nodded, and returned his gaze to the drop off only a few feet in front of where they now sat. The air was cool, and the healthy breeze cooler, but it was a fresh change from the stifling non-movement inside. He'd never been one to fancy flight or swimming, or anything else that did not leave his feet firmly planted on the ground. Spinning through neo-space, or whatever, was anything but his ideal mode of transport. Especially when it screwed with his head, and left him disorientated and dizzy. Sooner or later they'd have to return, when all the setting up was finished in the control room, but until then, he would relish the opportunity for fresh air, even if it meant conversation.
"He handled himself better than most thirty year olds I've met." He acknowledged. "Lots of people panicked, gave up, ran away. He picked up the scraps he was left with, and kept fighting."
She nodded, eyes distinctly shining in the orange glow of the sunset. An end to the longest day in history. So many people had died today...billions slaughtered in mere hours. The world had never before seen such a wholesale slaughter. He doubted the world could ever truly recover from it. Not after everything else that had happened.
"Dad would be so proud." A muffled sniff followed her statement.
"You should be." He said, watching her with a passing interest. "He managed something Peter failed miserably at for five years. He was stronger than you know."
She gave a half-hearted smile, and rolled her eyes. "I know, I know. He was strong, brave, smart, clever, smooth, lucky...whatever." Her voice broke, as she shook her head and let a few tears fall free. "I just...I just want him with me instead. I just got him back, and now...now he's really gone, and I'm never going to get to see him again, and I'm...I'm not ready to accept that he's really never coming back." Her voice wavered and increased in pitch as she spoke, before she jerked a hand up to rub at her eyes. "And there's nothing you can say that can make it any better. There's nothing anyone can say, so I wish people would just...stop it!"
He sighed, and chose to watch the setting sun while the young woman collected herself. She was right, there was nothing he could say that would make the situation any better, or lessen her grief. He didn't even bother trying. It was better simply to allow her to confront her own troubles, and let the conversation lapse into silence--he had plenty enough of his own troubles to be dealing with, anyway.
He wasn't certain how long it was, before she spoke again. "I miss them."
A bitter smile crept across his expression. "We all do."
"I just...wish...we could do this all over. Just, turn a knob and go back to when everything was normal, and fix things. Make it so Dad didn't have to die...Mom...Lyle. Lyle deserved a better life than this. Dad was going to...he had so many hopes..."
"Things don't work that way."
"I know...I just..." She shook her head. "I can't stop thinking 'what if...what if?' I know it's not good for me, and it'll never do anything but waste away the years, but...what else is there? What else is left?"
"Hey. You're still alive. We're still alive. I know it sounds contrite...but over half of the world died today. If we're still around, it must mean something."
She gave him a hopeless smile, tears staining her cheeks. "Mean what?"
"I dunno. Maybe that life is supposed to go on?" He shrugged. "Maybe we're supposed to rebuild everything, pick up the scrap metal and make a castle. Sylar's dead, the dark cloud over this world is finally passing...maybe life goes on."
"But why?" She shook her head, shifting her gaze toward the darkening sky. "Why bother, after everything that we lost? We can't get them back. They can't be replaced."
He sighed, and stood. "Because they didn't die so that you could wallow in pity and grief. They died so you could have a life, so that these people--us--the survivors, could make another life, and so that one day some way, things will be like they used to be."
"Things will never be like they used to."
He made his way to where she stood, and tossed his leather jacket over her shoulders, helping her to stand. "It's enough that their deaths aren't in vain. That what they did made a difference. You'd be surprised what a band of rabble can do when united with a purpose."
Wide eyes turned up toward his, quiet desperation shimmering beneath their reflective surface. "I don't know what I could do to help."
He managed a slight smile. "Sylar's dead. We have a whole new government to set up, and a broken people to heal. I think the daughter of Noah and Sandra Bennet could contribute lots to the effort. We're not a rebellion anymore, we're a restoration. We need kind hearts like yours if we're ever going to succeed in setting the world right again."
"Then...if I can help..." She nodded softly, forcing a slight smile. "I will. Lyle trusted you enough to give up his life for your cause, thats enough for me."
He nodded as she walked back toward the ship, before finally speaking up once again. "Claire...he wasn't fighting for me. He was fighting for you."
She halted, and was silent for a few moments, before looking over her shoulder with a watery smile. "I know."
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Up to How to Stop An Exploding Man.
Pairings: Isaac/Claire
Characters: Isaac, Claire
Prompt: #13 Brother
Genre: Angst
Warnings: Character deaths, RPG based
Summary: After the world dies, all that's left for the survivors are memories and hope.
Disclaimer: I don't actually own anything. Even the AU is technically Asi's...just modified a little.
AN: Right. So a prompt was due, I needed to write, and I wanted to write about the RPG I'm primarily playing right now. This is based off of The Year of Hell RPG. Technically the RPG is a crossover of Heroes and Doctor Who, but you shouldn't need to know Doctor Who to understand the fic. The basic premise closely follows Five Years Gone, with the exception that certain people (like Isaac and Claire) survived, and with the inclusion of Doctor Who.
This fic is set one year after the events of 5YG (omitting Claire's death). The world has crumbled under Sylar's rule and mass genocides of 'specials', and only a band of rag-tag rebels truly resist him any longer. Ideally, this is set after the conclusion of it, sans DW's role in it.
--
Picking up the Pieces
"He was nineteen."
He turned his head to glance at the young woman sitting near him. Dark brown hair fell to her waist, and tangled in the wind, brushing across her face and neck. She wore a simple red shirt and jeans, and had pulled her knees up to tuck under her chin. An unreadable expression shone in her eyes as she observed the empty gorge before them, hazel eyes lingering on a vision known only to her.
She returned his glance briefly. "Lyle. He was two years younger than me."
He nodded, and returned his gaze to the drop off only a few feet in front of where they now sat. The air was cool, and the healthy breeze cooler, but it was a fresh change from the stifling non-movement inside. He'd never been one to fancy flight or swimming, or anything else that did not leave his feet firmly planted on the ground. Spinning through neo-space, or whatever, was anything but his ideal mode of transport. Especially when it screwed with his head, and left him disorientated and dizzy. Sooner or later they'd have to return, when all the setting up was finished in the control room, but until then, he would relish the opportunity for fresh air, even if it meant conversation.
"He handled himself better than most thirty year olds I've met." He acknowledged. "Lots of people panicked, gave up, ran away. He picked up the scraps he was left with, and kept fighting."
She nodded, eyes distinctly shining in the orange glow of the sunset. An end to the longest day in history. So many people had died today...billions slaughtered in mere hours. The world had never before seen such a wholesale slaughter. He doubted the world could ever truly recover from it. Not after everything else that had happened.
"Dad would be so proud." A muffled sniff followed her statement.
"You should be." He said, watching her with a passing interest. "He managed something Peter failed miserably at for five years. He was stronger than you know."
She gave a half-hearted smile, and rolled her eyes. "I know, I know. He was strong, brave, smart, clever, smooth, lucky...whatever." Her voice broke, as she shook her head and let a few tears fall free. "I just...I just want him with me instead. I just got him back, and now...now he's really gone, and I'm never going to get to see him again, and I'm...I'm not ready to accept that he's really never coming back." Her voice wavered and increased in pitch as she spoke, before she jerked a hand up to rub at her eyes. "And there's nothing you can say that can make it any better. There's nothing anyone can say, so I wish people would just...stop it!"
He sighed, and chose to watch the setting sun while the young woman collected herself. She was right, there was nothing he could say that would make the situation any better, or lessen her grief. He didn't even bother trying. It was better simply to allow her to confront her own troubles, and let the conversation lapse into silence--he had plenty enough of his own troubles to be dealing with, anyway.
He wasn't certain how long it was, before she spoke again. "I miss them."
A bitter smile crept across his expression. "We all do."
"I just...wish...we could do this all over. Just, turn a knob and go back to when everything was normal, and fix things. Make it so Dad didn't have to die...Mom...Lyle. Lyle deserved a better life than this. Dad was going to...he had so many hopes..."
"Things don't work that way."
"I know...I just..." She shook her head. "I can't stop thinking 'what if...what if?' I know it's not good for me, and it'll never do anything but waste away the years, but...what else is there? What else is left?"
"Hey. You're still alive. We're still alive. I know it sounds contrite...but over half of the world died today. If we're still around, it must mean something."
She gave him a hopeless smile, tears staining her cheeks. "Mean what?"
"I dunno. Maybe that life is supposed to go on?" He shrugged. "Maybe we're supposed to rebuild everything, pick up the scrap metal and make a castle. Sylar's dead, the dark cloud over this world is finally passing...maybe life goes on."
"But why?" She shook her head, shifting her gaze toward the darkening sky. "Why bother, after everything that we lost? We can't get them back. They can't be replaced."
He sighed, and stood. "Because they didn't die so that you could wallow in pity and grief. They died so you could have a life, so that these people--us--the survivors, could make another life, and so that one day some way, things will be like they used to be."
"Things will never be like they used to."
He made his way to where she stood, and tossed his leather jacket over her shoulders, helping her to stand. "It's enough that their deaths aren't in vain. That what they did made a difference. You'd be surprised what a band of rabble can do when united with a purpose."
Wide eyes turned up toward his, quiet desperation shimmering beneath their reflective surface. "I don't know what I could do to help."
He managed a slight smile. "Sylar's dead. We have a whole new government to set up, and a broken people to heal. I think the daughter of Noah and Sandra Bennet could contribute lots to the effort. We're not a rebellion anymore, we're a restoration. We need kind hearts like yours if we're ever going to succeed in setting the world right again."
"Then...if I can help..." She nodded softly, forcing a slight smile. "I will. Lyle trusted you enough to give up his life for your cause, thats enough for me."
He nodded as she walked back toward the ship, before finally speaking up once again. "Claire...he wasn't fighting for me. He was fighting for you."
She halted, and was silent for a few moments, before looking over her shoulder with a watery smile. "I know."