Heroes: Everytime We Touch -- sequel to Here Without You
On popular request, here is a sequel to my story Here Without You.
Title: Everytime We Touch
Author: Jane S./phoenix39
Rating: PG-13 for incest.
Summary: Peter and Claire get a second chance at their relationship. A sequel to ‘Here Without You.’
Word Count: 1,479
Warnings: SPOILERS FOR “FOUR MONTHS LATER.”
Pairing: Peter/Claire
Disclaimer: If I owned Heroes, do you think “Distractions” would have ended like that?
Author’s Note: Written for heroes50. Prompt 21 - second.
Crossposted: phoenix39, esse_an_mente, heroes50, heroes_fic, paire_love, heroes_peter, heroes_claire.
“Your arms are my castle;
Your heart is my sky.
They wipe away tears that I cry.”
He still had no idea who he was. For all he knew, his life began the moment he opened his eyes in that shipping cargo. The men who found him cut the chain off his hand and brought him to a house. A warm house, but did not give him any warm clothes or food right away.
After days of being interrogated, they finally released him into the world. He wandered the streets of Cork, Ireland barefoot and penniless. The only clothes he had to protect him from the dusk of winter were a flannel shirt and jeans.
He asked the people on the streets for refuge, but they merely ignored him. He slept in alleyways and in dumpsters to shield himself from the harsh winds.
One evening, he was crossing, what he thought to be, a deserted street, but he found himself inches from a car. Shutting his eyes and prepping himself for the collision, all noise around him stopped. An emptiness filled the air around him. He opened his eyes to see that all of time around him has stopped. Yet another power he was capable of.
He took advantage of the opportunity and ran to the other side of the road to the bakery. He knew it was wrong to steal, but he was starving. The men who held him in the house only fed him once. He only had one meal in the past week. He was desperate.
He grabbed a bag and filled it with all the sweetest, most filling, most delicious pastries and cakes he could lay his fingers on.
After getting back to his abandoned alleyway, he shut his eyes and concentrated on time starting up again. Suddenly the deafening sounds of the world shocked his ears and went on.
He sat there, leaning against the brick wall, taking his time eating his booty.
The next morning, he wandered the city, carrying his precious bag of chow as if it were a lifeline and practicing yet another trick he discovered he had: mind reading.
I’m going to march into Rodney’s office today and tell him I quit…
I can’t believe she did this to me…
Where can I find a good florist?
Is that Peter Petrelli?
He’s having an affair. I just know it…
What’s going to happen next week on Prison Break? I bet T-Bag…
First term starts this Monday.
“Excuse me, sir,” he heard someone from behind him call out.
Whoever it was couldn’t have been acknowledging him, so he just continued.
“Excuse me!” this time, he felt the man tug on his arm.
He turned around to face an older man with a white beard and sunglasses.
“Are you Peter Petrelli?” he asked.
He shook his head.
“I don’t-I don’t know.”
“They got to you, then,” the other sighed.
“Who? Who got me? Who are you?”
He removed his glasses.
“My name is Chase Brown. I work for a man named Noah Bennet. You’ve met him, but you don’t remember him. The Company got to you.”
“What company? What is going on? And why can’t I remember anything?”
“I’ll explain everything… in a nice, warm, comfortable hotel room.”
------
After getting a shower, change of clothes, and a decent hot meal, Chase explained everything to Peter Petrelli.
“The Company specializes in finding people like you, people who are special, and turning them into weapons. The Haitian, for instance, works for them and he can wipe people’s memories. They had him clean your mind of everything from your past: your name, your family, everything.
You were in the shipping cargo because you were being sold to the Company in Italy, but there was a mix-up. You were instead sent to Ireland and the iPods that were supposed to be sent to the Irish mafia went to…”
“The Company in Italy,” Peter finished.
“You’re catching on.
As soon as we found out about the mix-up, Bennet sent me here to fetch you and bring you to him before sending you back to your family.”
Peter’s heart skipped a beat. So he did have a family afterall. And he was going to see meet them, finally.
“When can I see them?”
“Tomorrow. Now that I have you, we can check out of this hotel and head back for the states. First, we need to see Bennet.”
“But I don’t have any ID or a passport.”
“You do now.”
Chase reached into his pocket and pulled a fake passport and ID and handed them to Peter.
“Brooke Melman?” Peter asked.
“You can’t use your real name to travel. The Company will find us.”
------
It was around six in the evening in California when Peter and Chase stood in front of the Bennet residence.
“Let me do all the talking,” Chase demanded.
Peter nodded.
Chase knocked and within seconds, a tall man with a square jaw and horn-rimmed-glasses answered the door. He grinned when he saw his guests.
“Chase, Peter, great to see you again. Where was he?”
“Wondering the streets of Cork, Ireland, just as you thought.”
“Well, come on in. Peter, there’s someone here who will be more than thrilled to see you again.”
Peter followed Chase and Bennet into the house and was led into the living room. There he saw a woman, probably Bennet’s wife, brushing the hair of a small puppy, a teenage boy playing a handheld video game, and…
The girl from his dreams. Sandra.
“Claire,” Bennet called.
Claire pulled her eyes from the TV and looked over at her father and his two guests.
“PETER!” she shrieked and ran toward him, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him into a tight hug. Peter did the same, holding her tightly, breathing in the scent of her hair, and feeling her heartbeat against his chest.
Claire pulled away from him, with a sudden look of anger on her face.
“Where were you? Why didn’t you contact us?” she shouted.
Peter didn’t know what to say.
“He couldn’t,” Bennet answered. “They had the Haitian wipe his memory. He doesn’t remember anything. That’s why he’s here. I’m going to run some tests on him tonight and tomorrow, he’ll be back home with his brother and mother. I’m sure they’re just as anxious to see him.”
“Did you call Nathan and Angela? Do they know he’s okay?” Claire asked.
“Not yet. I was going to do that as soon as Peter arrived to make sure. I didn’t want to give them any false hope.”
Claire nodded.
“In the meantime, Claire Bear, will you show your uncle to the guest bedroom?”
“Sure,” Claire replied.
Peter expected Chase to follow her, but when she called Peter’s name, his heart sank.
“Are you coming, Peter?”
He started walking in her wake, his heart skipping every other beat.
When they entered the guest bedroom, Peter shut the door and locked it.
“I’m your uncle?” were the first words out of his mouth.
Claire nodded, tears streaming down her face.
“We all thought you were dead. I missed you so much.”
She took a step toward Peter and wrapped her arms around his waist. Peter gently glided his thumb across her wet her cheek, wiping her tears away.
“But you’re here now,” she continued.
She moved her face closer to his, but Peter squirmed out of her grip.
“What are you doing, Claire? I’m your uncle. Right?”
“We didn’t know that when we met. You found me and saved my life. You were my hero. You still are. I fell in love with you. When I found out we were related, I thought I died a little inside.”
“Yeah. I dreamed about you night after night when I was in Ireland. Just your face, and I knew we had a connection. I thought we were lovers.”
“We still can be.”
“Are you serious?”
“Peter, listen to me. You’re a nurse, so you should know the answer to this-”
“I doubt it. I have no idea what my life was like before last week.”
“But still. Anybody will know. If you give blood or an organ to someone, does that make you related?”
“No. Of course not.”
“Exactly. Don’t you see, Peter? Relation is just an illusion.”
“So would you fuck your brother or whoever that was in the living room playing that handheld?”
“No. Not because he’s brother, but because he disgusts me. He’s got this freaky foot fungus.”
Okay, you’re right, Peter read from Claire’s mind. But I love you and, obviously, you love me, so that should be enough.
This time, Peter was the one to step toward Claire and wrap her in his arms. She stayed there with her head against his chest, listening to his heart.
“I love you, too,” Peter responded.
Title: Everytime We Touch
Author: Jane S./phoenix39
Rating: PG-13 for incest.
Summary: Peter and Claire get a second chance at their relationship. A sequel to ‘Here Without You.’
Word Count: 1,479
Warnings: SPOILERS FOR “FOUR MONTHS LATER.”
Pairing: Peter/Claire
Disclaimer: If I owned Heroes, do you think “Distractions” would have ended like that?
Author’s Note: Written for heroes50. Prompt 21 - second.
Crossposted: phoenix39, esse_an_mente, heroes50, heroes_fic, paire_love, heroes_peter, heroes_claire.
“Your arms are my castle;
Your heart is my sky.
They wipe away tears that I cry.”
He still had no idea who he was. For all he knew, his life began the moment he opened his eyes in that shipping cargo. The men who found him cut the chain off his hand and brought him to a house. A warm house, but did not give him any warm clothes or food right away.
After days of being interrogated, they finally released him into the world. He wandered the streets of Cork, Ireland barefoot and penniless. The only clothes he had to protect him from the dusk of winter were a flannel shirt and jeans.
He asked the people on the streets for refuge, but they merely ignored him. He slept in alleyways and in dumpsters to shield himself from the harsh winds.
One evening, he was crossing, what he thought to be, a deserted street, but he found himself inches from a car. Shutting his eyes and prepping himself for the collision, all noise around him stopped. An emptiness filled the air around him. He opened his eyes to see that all of time around him has stopped. Yet another power he was capable of.
He took advantage of the opportunity and ran to the other side of the road to the bakery. He knew it was wrong to steal, but he was starving. The men who held him in the house only fed him once. He only had one meal in the past week. He was desperate.
He grabbed a bag and filled it with all the sweetest, most filling, most delicious pastries and cakes he could lay his fingers on.
After getting back to his abandoned alleyway, he shut his eyes and concentrated on time starting up again. Suddenly the deafening sounds of the world shocked his ears and went on.
He sat there, leaning against the brick wall, taking his time eating his booty.
The next morning, he wandered the city, carrying his precious bag of chow as if it were a lifeline and practicing yet another trick he discovered he had: mind reading.
I’m going to march into Rodney’s office today and tell him I quit…
I can’t believe she did this to me…
Where can I find a good florist?
Is that Peter Petrelli?
He’s having an affair. I just know it…
What’s going to happen next week on Prison Break? I bet T-Bag…
First term starts this Monday.
“Excuse me, sir,” he heard someone from behind him call out.
Whoever it was couldn’t have been acknowledging him, so he just continued.
“Excuse me!” this time, he felt the man tug on his arm.
He turned around to face an older man with a white beard and sunglasses.
“Are you Peter Petrelli?” he asked.
He shook his head.
“I don’t-I don’t know.”
“They got to you, then,” the other sighed.
“Who? Who got me? Who are you?”
He removed his glasses.
“My name is Chase Brown. I work for a man named Noah Bennet. You’ve met him, but you don’t remember him. The Company got to you.”
“What company? What is going on? And why can’t I remember anything?”
“I’ll explain everything… in a nice, warm, comfortable hotel room.”
------
After getting a shower, change of clothes, and a decent hot meal, Chase explained everything to Peter Petrelli.
“The Company specializes in finding people like you, people who are special, and turning them into weapons. The Haitian, for instance, works for them and he can wipe people’s memories. They had him clean your mind of everything from your past: your name, your family, everything.
You were in the shipping cargo because you were being sold to the Company in Italy, but there was a mix-up. You were instead sent to Ireland and the iPods that were supposed to be sent to the Irish mafia went to…”
“The Company in Italy,” Peter finished.
“You’re catching on.
As soon as we found out about the mix-up, Bennet sent me here to fetch you and bring you to him before sending you back to your family.”
Peter’s heart skipped a beat. So he did have a family afterall. And he was going to see meet them, finally.
“When can I see them?”
“Tomorrow. Now that I have you, we can check out of this hotel and head back for the states. First, we need to see Bennet.”
“But I don’t have any ID or a passport.”
“You do now.”
Chase reached into his pocket and pulled a fake passport and ID and handed them to Peter.
“Brooke Melman?” Peter asked.
“You can’t use your real name to travel. The Company will find us.”
------
It was around six in the evening in California when Peter and Chase stood in front of the Bennet residence.
“Let me do all the talking,” Chase demanded.
Peter nodded.
Chase knocked and within seconds, a tall man with a square jaw and horn-rimmed-glasses answered the door. He grinned when he saw his guests.
“Chase, Peter, great to see you again. Where was he?”
“Wondering the streets of Cork, Ireland, just as you thought.”
“Well, come on in. Peter, there’s someone here who will be more than thrilled to see you again.”
Peter followed Chase and Bennet into the house and was led into the living room. There he saw a woman, probably Bennet’s wife, brushing the hair of a small puppy, a teenage boy playing a handheld video game, and…
The girl from his dreams. Sandra.
“Claire,” Bennet called.
Claire pulled her eyes from the TV and looked over at her father and his two guests.
“PETER!” she shrieked and ran toward him, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him into a tight hug. Peter did the same, holding her tightly, breathing in the scent of her hair, and feeling her heartbeat against his chest.
Claire pulled away from him, with a sudden look of anger on her face.
“Where were you? Why didn’t you contact us?” she shouted.
Peter didn’t know what to say.
“He couldn’t,” Bennet answered. “They had the Haitian wipe his memory. He doesn’t remember anything. That’s why he’s here. I’m going to run some tests on him tonight and tomorrow, he’ll be back home with his brother and mother. I’m sure they’re just as anxious to see him.”
“Did you call Nathan and Angela? Do they know he’s okay?” Claire asked.
“Not yet. I was going to do that as soon as Peter arrived to make sure. I didn’t want to give them any false hope.”
Claire nodded.
“In the meantime, Claire Bear, will you show your uncle to the guest bedroom?”
“Sure,” Claire replied.
Peter expected Chase to follow her, but when she called Peter’s name, his heart sank.
“Are you coming, Peter?”
He started walking in her wake, his heart skipping every other beat.
When they entered the guest bedroom, Peter shut the door and locked it.
“I’m your uncle?” were the first words out of his mouth.
Claire nodded, tears streaming down her face.
“We all thought you were dead. I missed you so much.”
She took a step toward Peter and wrapped her arms around his waist. Peter gently glided his thumb across her wet her cheek, wiping her tears away.
“But you’re here now,” she continued.
She moved her face closer to his, but Peter squirmed out of her grip.
“What are you doing, Claire? I’m your uncle. Right?”
“We didn’t know that when we met. You found me and saved my life. You were my hero. You still are. I fell in love with you. When I found out we were related, I thought I died a little inside.”
“Yeah. I dreamed about you night after night when I was in Ireland. Just your face, and I knew we had a connection. I thought we were lovers.”
“We still can be.”
“Are you serious?”
“Peter, listen to me. You’re a nurse, so you should know the answer to this-”
“I doubt it. I have no idea what my life was like before last week.”
“But still. Anybody will know. If you give blood or an organ to someone, does that make you related?”
“No. Of course not.”
“Exactly. Don’t you see, Peter? Relation is just an illusion.”
“So would you fuck your brother or whoever that was in the living room playing that handheld?”
“No. Not because he’s brother, but because he disgusts me. He’s got this freaky foot fungus.”
Okay, you’re right, Peter read from Claire’s mind. But I love you and, obviously, you love me, so that should be enough.
This time, Peter was the one to step toward Claire and wrap her in his arms. She stayed there with her head against his chest, listening to his heart.
“I love you, too,” Peter responded.