Fic: No Such Thing As Perfect
Title: No Such Thing As Perfect
Rating: PG
Pairings: Nathan/Peter, Nathan/Heidi.
Summary: It's Nathan and Heidi's wedding day, and Peter needs reassurance. So does Heidi.
The music started as soon as Heidi entered the room, making her jump a little though she should have been ready for it. She took a deep breath and focussed on Nathan, who turned and smiled brightly at her, giving her the strength to start walking.
It was OK to be nervous. That was normal. She was getting married; it was a big deal. But, after she’d walked down this aisle and choked out her vows, she would be Mrs Nathan Petrelli, wife of a handsome, charming, rich lawyer whom she just so happened to love very much. It was perfect. Everything she’d ever wanted.
She grinned back, and tried not to notice that the best man’s smile was wearing a little thin.
***
As soon as could be managed, she took Peter aside to talk.
“Hey, look. Just because Nathan is my husband now, doesn’t mean he’s going to magically stop being your brother. I’m not about to try and come between you; I know who’d win, and it’s not me. So stop looking like it’s the end of the world. Can you manage a half-way realistic smile for me?” She touched his arm and fluttered her eyelashes at him beseechingly.
He obeyed, then pulled her into a hug. “I like you, Heidi,” he told her. “If Nathan had to get married, I’m glad it was to someone like you.”
***
Heidi sipped her champagne without really tasting it and tried not to be obvious about looking for Nathan. He’d gone to the bathroom fifteen minutes ago, and it was long past time to start the dancing off. People were getting restless.
She excused herself with a polite lie and went to search more thoroughly. Eventually, she was even forced her to start asking people where her own husband was on her wedding day; no-one had seen him. With a rising sense of dread, she tried the cloakroom door.
Locked.
After checking that the corridor was empty, she pressed her ear up against the door, and sagged in relief when the first voice she recognised was Peter’s. He hadn’t brought a date, and she hadn’t thought he was the type for casual sex in cloakrooms with bridesmaids, but she didn’t really know him all that well.
“Want you so much…wish…hickey,” he was saying, too quietly for her to hear much through the thick door. “Mine.”
She was about to give them some privacy when Peter’s companion spoke and she went cold.
“…love you too, Pete. Always…careful, now, but nothing’s going to change…you and me, Pete. Just you and me.”
Initially, her brain refused to grasp the implications of what she was hearing, refused to recognise the second voice. When it clicked, she let out a noise one wouldn’t think the human throat capable of, then picked up the skirt her dress and fled on rubbery legs past several shocked guests and out into the massive gardens.
She kept running until she tripped on a tree-root and came crashing down, getting grass stains on her wedding dress.
She brought a hand to her face and realised, rather belatedly, that she’d been crying.
Someone - no, two someones - skidded to a stop behind her, panting heavily, but she didn’t turn around. One of them tried to grab her shoulder, but she slapped him off.
She recognised the ring on that hand. She should; she’d put it there.
“Heidi, what is wrong with you?”
She burst into laughter at that; a harsh cackle, edging on hysteria. Nathan sounded so surprised, so annoyed, as if she was just supposed to lay back and accept that her husband was screwing his brother; that she was nothing more than a must-have accessory and a cover story, something to help throw off suspicion.
But of course, she was supposed to pretend she didn’t know; pretend that nothing was wrong. That was the philosophy, in families like theirs. If you pretend hard enough that everything is fine, it will be.
Heidi didn’t feel particularly inclined to be philosophical at the moment.
Peter told his brother to shut up, moving to kneel in front of Heidi and catch her eye. His eyes were full of the compassion he gave out like candy, along with a vague hint of guilt and a generous helping of the poorly-concealed jealousy he’d been wearing since the engagement was announced.
It occurred to her all of a sudden that he and she looked rather alike.
“Heidi, look at me. Look. God, I’m so sorry you had to find out like this. You were never supposed to know.”
She laughed again. “What, you think that makes it better?” she snarled. “That you intended to screw my husband behind my back, instead of rubbing my face in it?”
He winced a little, but continued. “That we never meant to hurt you. This whole mess - it was meant to stay between the two of us, a secret. We never wanted to hurt anyone. I just, I love him so much. So much. I can’t stay away, but we can’t exactly be open about it, so we keep it secret. And we lie, and we cheat, even to people we really care about, because as much as it sucks, the alternatives - confess and lose everything, or keep away from each other and have nothing - are unthinkable.” He looked over his shoulder at Nathan, who stepped forward to take his turn. Heidi tried to stare a hole into the dirt.
“Whatever it must feel like right now, Heidi, I really do love you. But Peter…” he trailed off, looking around uncomfortably. “Peter is… hell. I can’t think of anything that doesn’t sound horribly cliché and or co-dependant to the point of creepiness.
“I could tell you that you misunderstood, or that it would never happen again, but those would be lies. I love you. I’m sorry that I hurt you. I’ll understand if you can’t accept what you know, but I really hope that you can, because I would hate to not have you in my life. And…” he hesitated, but carried on. “If it turns out that you can’t, then I am begging you not to tell anyone why. I hope that you’re not that vindictive. And for God’s sake, stand up. You look ridiculous.” He reached out again to pull her up.
She pulled away and stood on her own, turning to intently examine a rosebush. There was rustling behind her, and she imagined them moving for a hug, seeking comfort in each other. It was a familiar image.
She thought about how familiar it was; how often they touched, hugged, even kissed, heedless to anyone else. She thought about her conversation with Peter, earlier, promising him she wouldn’t try to get between them. She thought about how happy she’d been when Nathan proposed, and how he’d smiled at her so encouragingly and so lovingly as she walked down the aisle. (It had seemed so real).
She thought about walking in on her father with his secretary, and her mother with her tennis instructor. (Such a cliché). She thought about margaritas at ten am, and a drunken speech from her mother one night about love and duty, about looking the other way and presenting a brave face to the world or being eaten alive.
She thought about grass stains on her wedding dress, and how much of a mess her face must be.
She thought about her perfect husband, and the perfect life she’d envisioned.
Like Nathan, she’d grown up with the idea that if your will was strong enough, you could make anything true. You just had to believe that everything was perfect, and it would be. If she ignored the grass stains hard enough, they didn’t exist; at the very least, the guests would ignore them too.
She straightened her spine. “We need to start the dancing off,” she told her husband, taking his hand in hers and starting back towards the hall.