Gently Weeps (Gen, AU, 1/1)
Title: Gently Weeps 1/1
Characters: Nana Dawson, Claire Bennet, Adam Monroe, Others
Rating: PG-13 for themes
Type: Gen, AU
Disclaimer: Copyright of Heroes is held by the respective owners. No infringement is intended.
Spoiler alert: Through S3
Summary: Nana offers Claire insight.
Notes: This story is set in the same AU as “Perchance To Dream” and was suggested by the graphic novel, “The Ten Brides of Takezo Kensei.”
Trina Dawson fixed supper, singing and dancing along with the radio:
…I look at the world, and I notice it's turning,
while my guitar gently weeps.
With every mistake, we must surely be learning,
still my guitar gently weeps…
Her granddaughter and grandnephew came into the kitchen, looking pensive. “We have to talk, Nana,” said Micah.
“Finally,” replied Trina. “I’ve been waiting on you two, but I knew you had to find your own time.”
Later, Claire Bennet announced a change in plans. “Mrs. Dawson wants to see me, Mom. She had Micah Sanders email me with a ticket to New Orleans. She said that it’s about my future.”
“A lot of people seem to know a lot of things about your future,” said Sandra Bennet wearily. “Get complete contact information before you go, and call home the minute you get there.”
Five days and her father’s background check later, Claire rang the doorbell. “Welcome to New Orleans,” said the silver-haired woman, hugging her. “My, you’ve got the sweetest little smile. Let’s see if we can get it to reach all the way to those big, sad eyes.”
Before Claire could say anything, Trina sat her down at the kitchen table, putting a gingerbread cookie and a glass of milk in front of her. “They were my daughter’s favorite,” she said. “I bake them year round.” Trina noticed that the gingerbread woman’s leg fell off. She carefully reattached the cookie limb, gently freezing it in place at the break. “There, now,” said Trina with a twinkle in her eyes. “Bet you didn’t know gingerbread people could regenerate, too.”
“No, Ma’am,” assured Claire. “That’s so cool. No pun intended.”
The grandmother laughed. “I’m glad you think so, Sweet. It was a godsend around here, what with those ice trucks never showing up.”
“Didn’t people wonder where the ice was coming from?,” asked Claire.
“Sure,” Trina replied. “But, when your neighborhood’s turned into a drowned D.I.Y. project from hell, you learn not to look a gift horse wearing floaties in the mouth.”
Claire was thoughtful. “I’m sorry for your loss, Mrs. Dawson. I don’t know what I’d do if my dad, mom, or brother were dead.”
“You’d bring them back, if you could and visit them in the Deathscape, if you couldn’t,” said Trina wistfully. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about, the other part of your power.”
“How do you know anything about my power?,” asked Claire.
“Bless, Micah,” replied Trina. “He goes through life, as only a child genius can, looking at everything and for everything. He decided to look at the Company’s files after they got interested in his cousin.”
Trina could see that Claire still didn’t understand. “Micah was looking at his cousin Monica’s file. A cross-reference here and a footnote there, he found himself looking at your file, because I’m Adam Monroe’s ex-wife.”
As Trina Monroe Dawson told a stunned Claire her story, she recalled the last time she had seen Adam Monroe - in her dreams. Thirty years after parting on the day he had chosen as his birthday, Trina napped…
“You’ve gone from brick house to stately mansion, I see,” said Adam.
“And you’ve gone from you to you,” Trina returned softly. She reached for his hand, unable to touch it. “I take it you’re dead just now.”
“And I take it you’re not,” he replied, “which pleases me for your sake, but it angers me that they lied about your death.”
“Be thankful my death was a lie, Adam,” said his former wife. “It meant one of us was there to mourn our daughter and raise our grandchildren. You remember,” she continued, crying. “The family you ignored, because you were busy plotting to kill every other family and cleanse the world.”
“You know about that, do you?,” he asked matter-of-factly.
“Kaito Nakamura came to the house personally,” said Trina, “with that no-better-than-she-ought-to-have-been Angela Petrelli and recorded confessions -- yours and hers. Apparently adultery was too mundane, so you cooed over genocide.“
“I should have thought Kaito preferred saving face,” said Adam.
“He would have,” confirmed Trina, “if it had just been two people sneaking around.”
Adam smiled sardonically, fading away. A glittering disco ball floated where he had been. Gradually, the silvery ball changed into a blue-green model of earth, shattering to pieces…
“At that point,” continued Trina, “I knew Adam was beyond my help, even if I knew where his living self was. But, you’re not beyond my help, Sweet.”
“How can you help me?,” asked Claire, curious.
“I slept beside Adam Monroe for nine years,” said Trina, “watching him will himself dead at night and come back to life in the morning. He’d tell me how beautiful it was. You can think it’s beautiful, too. But, I need to help you remember to live. I need…”
“To be my grandma,” finished Claire, kissing Nana Dawson on the head.
Characters: Nana Dawson, Claire Bennet, Adam Monroe, Others
Rating: PG-13 for themes
Type: Gen, AU
Disclaimer: Copyright of Heroes is held by the respective owners. No infringement is intended.
Spoiler alert: Through S3
Summary: Nana offers Claire insight.
Notes: This story is set in the same AU as “Perchance To Dream” and was suggested by the graphic novel, “The Ten Brides of Takezo Kensei.”
Trina Dawson fixed supper, singing and dancing along with the radio:
…I look at the world, and I notice it's turning,
while my guitar gently weeps.
With every mistake, we must surely be learning,
still my guitar gently weeps…
Her granddaughter and grandnephew came into the kitchen, looking pensive. “We have to talk, Nana,” said Micah.
“Finally,” replied Trina. “I’ve been waiting on you two, but I knew you had to find your own time.”
Later, Claire Bennet announced a change in plans. “Mrs. Dawson wants to see me, Mom. She had Micah Sanders email me with a ticket to New Orleans. She said that it’s about my future.”
“A lot of people seem to know a lot of things about your future,” said Sandra Bennet wearily. “Get complete contact information before you go, and call home the minute you get there.”
Five days and her father’s background check later, Claire rang the doorbell. “Welcome to New Orleans,” said the silver-haired woman, hugging her. “My, you’ve got the sweetest little smile. Let’s see if we can get it to reach all the way to those big, sad eyes.”
Before Claire could say anything, Trina sat her down at the kitchen table, putting a gingerbread cookie and a glass of milk in front of her. “They were my daughter’s favorite,” she said. “I bake them year round.” Trina noticed that the gingerbread woman’s leg fell off. She carefully reattached the cookie limb, gently freezing it in place at the break. “There, now,” said Trina with a twinkle in her eyes. “Bet you didn’t know gingerbread people could regenerate, too.”
“No, Ma’am,” assured Claire. “That’s so cool. No pun intended.”
The grandmother laughed. “I’m glad you think so, Sweet. It was a godsend around here, what with those ice trucks never showing up.”
“Didn’t people wonder where the ice was coming from?,” asked Claire.
“Sure,” Trina replied. “But, when your neighborhood’s turned into a drowned D.I.Y. project from hell, you learn not to look a gift horse wearing floaties in the mouth.”
Claire was thoughtful. “I’m sorry for your loss, Mrs. Dawson. I don’t know what I’d do if my dad, mom, or brother were dead.”
“You’d bring them back, if you could and visit them in the Deathscape, if you couldn’t,” said Trina wistfully. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about, the other part of your power.”
“How do you know anything about my power?,” asked Claire.
“Bless, Micah,” replied Trina. “He goes through life, as only a child genius can, looking at everything and for everything. He decided to look at the Company’s files after they got interested in his cousin.”
Trina could see that Claire still didn’t understand. “Micah was looking at his cousin Monica’s file. A cross-reference here and a footnote there, he found himself looking at your file, because I’m Adam Monroe’s ex-wife.”
As Trina Monroe Dawson told a stunned Claire her story, she recalled the last time she had seen Adam Monroe - in her dreams. Thirty years after parting on the day he had chosen as his birthday, Trina napped…
“You’ve gone from brick house to stately mansion, I see,” said Adam.
“And you’ve gone from you to you,” Trina returned softly. She reached for his hand, unable to touch it. “I take it you’re dead just now.”
“And I take it you’re not,” he replied, “which pleases me for your sake, but it angers me that they lied about your death.”
“Be thankful my death was a lie, Adam,” said his former wife. “It meant one of us was there to mourn our daughter and raise our grandchildren. You remember,” she continued, crying. “The family you ignored, because you were busy plotting to kill every other family and cleanse the world.”
“You know about that, do you?,” he asked matter-of-factly.
“Kaito Nakamura came to the house personally,” said Trina, “with that no-better-than-she-ought-to-have-been Angela Petrelli and recorded confessions -- yours and hers. Apparently adultery was too mundane, so you cooed over genocide.“
“I should have thought Kaito preferred saving face,” said Adam.
“He would have,” confirmed Trina, “if it had just been two people sneaking around.”
Adam smiled sardonically, fading away. A glittering disco ball floated where he had been. Gradually, the silvery ball changed into a blue-green model of earth, shattering to pieces…
“At that point,” continued Trina, “I knew Adam was beyond my help, even if I knew where his living self was. But, you’re not beyond my help, Sweet.”
“How can you help me?,” asked Claire, curious.
“I slept beside Adam Monroe for nine years,” said Trina, “watching him will himself dead at night and come back to life in the morning. He’d tell me how beautiful it was. You can think it’s beautiful, too. But, I need to help you remember to live. I need…”
“To be my grandma,” finished Claire, kissing Nana Dawson on the head.