"On Reflection". (Heroes fic)
I originally wrote this, hmmmm, about two and a half months ago on my Hawaii vacation. It's meant to be the first part of three, maybe more, interrelated Heroes short stories about things that take place post-season 1, but what with getting sick on vacation and then being burned out from jet lag when I got back it and the rest of the stories kind of fell by the wayside. (I suspect my muse is still sitting on a Maui beach somewhere sipping maitais.)
Anyways, since I actually had an inkling yesterday morning as to how to properly introduce the second story, and have started tinkering with it again, I'm putting this up. Hopefully it's not too bad... ; )
Every day is the same, and every day is different.
Nathan wakes up next to Heidi in the rumpled bed they share. Watches with just the right degree of interest as she languorously slips out of bed, as she looks back from where she stands with that smoldering blue gaze, knowing what she wants after so long trapped in that wheelchair. Nathan gives her everything she yearned for, every climax and sensual touch they couldn’t share in the interminable, agonizing months between the accident Linderman caused and the miracle Linderman effected. And Heidi believes Nathan’s the same man she loved and married, that nothing has changed.
Nathan reads newspaper clippings. Watches videos of campaign appearances. Studies every cable-news film-snippet from C-Span to Fox News and back again. Listens to what Angela says and recommends and suggests, and to what the Petrelli campaign aides advise. All to try to get back to the core of the freshman Congressman from New York, to show the party and the world the same man who won the election in a landslide the day before a sudden new star blossomed in the chill November night. To show them Nathan Petrelli is still the person they elected, that nothing has changed.
Nathan meets with Angela on a regular basis. A mother’s advice should never be discounted, and she has countless observations as to what she remembers of Nathan. Most of them are probably accurate, and priceless, and after all she was the one who prompted this entire line of action. Angela’s the one who came and insisted that Nathan maintain a public persona, even in the wake of the confrontation between Peter and Sylar. She’s the one who advised that they show, in word and deed and mannerism, that nothing has changed.
That Nathan be Nathan.
Angela thinks she holds all the strings, just as she once did. But that’s one of the few things that has changed.
Nathan sometimes lies awake at night, wishing for the ability to fly away and leave all this behind. But flying is one thing that’s no longer possible, regardless of how much Nathan might wish for it. Some things have changed.
Heidi, soon enough, will turn over in her sleep with a semi-coherent mumble, reaching out with slender fingers to touch Nathan’s shoulder. Nathan will shiver at the touch, and think again of Niki Sanders and vengeance. Nathan’s jaw still aches from where Sanders struck that night. Damned lucky, the doctors said; it could easily have been a hairline fracture or worse. And explaining to the press and the campaign why Nathan’s jaw was wired shut would have been… problematic.
Rising from the bed where Heidi still dreams, Nathan slips into the bathroom, closes the door, turns on the lights, stares into the mirror. Nathan looks at the reflected face of Nathan Petrelli, sighs, looks down, and finally lets go of the carefully crafted illusion that she’s been clinging to all day long.
Candice looks back up at the mirror, sits down on the toilet lid, puts her face in her hands. Angela had proposed this as a way to hold onto the torn and fragmented plans Linderman had once espoused… but it’s hard. So very hard. And she feels as though she’s losing more and more of herself with every day she spends as Nathan.
Every day is different. And every day is the same.
Anyways, since I actually had an inkling yesterday morning as to how to properly introduce the second story, and have started tinkering with it again, I'm putting this up. Hopefully it's not too bad... ; )
Every day is the same, and every day is different.
Nathan wakes up next to Heidi in the rumpled bed they share. Watches with just the right degree of interest as she languorously slips out of bed, as she looks back from where she stands with that smoldering blue gaze, knowing what she wants after so long trapped in that wheelchair. Nathan gives her everything she yearned for, every climax and sensual touch they couldn’t share in the interminable, agonizing months between the accident Linderman caused and the miracle Linderman effected. And Heidi believes Nathan’s the same man she loved and married, that nothing has changed.
Nathan reads newspaper clippings. Watches videos of campaign appearances. Studies every cable-news film-snippet from C-Span to Fox News and back again. Listens to what Angela says and recommends and suggests, and to what the Petrelli campaign aides advise. All to try to get back to the core of the freshman Congressman from New York, to show the party and the world the same man who won the election in a landslide the day before a sudden new star blossomed in the chill November night. To show them Nathan Petrelli is still the person they elected, that nothing has changed.
Nathan meets with Angela on a regular basis. A mother’s advice should never be discounted, and she has countless observations as to what she remembers of Nathan. Most of them are probably accurate, and priceless, and after all she was the one who prompted this entire line of action. Angela’s the one who came and insisted that Nathan maintain a public persona, even in the wake of the confrontation between Peter and Sylar. She’s the one who advised that they show, in word and deed and mannerism, that nothing has changed.
That Nathan be Nathan.
Angela thinks she holds all the strings, just as she once did. But that’s one of the few things that has changed.
Nathan sometimes lies awake at night, wishing for the ability to fly away and leave all this behind. But flying is one thing that’s no longer possible, regardless of how much Nathan might wish for it. Some things have changed.
Heidi, soon enough, will turn over in her sleep with a semi-coherent mumble, reaching out with slender fingers to touch Nathan’s shoulder. Nathan will shiver at the touch, and think again of Niki Sanders and vengeance. Nathan’s jaw still aches from where Sanders struck that night. Damned lucky, the doctors said; it could easily have been a hairline fracture or worse. And explaining to the press and the campaign why Nathan’s jaw was wired shut would have been… problematic.
Rising from the bed where Heidi still dreams, Nathan slips into the bathroom, closes the door, turns on the lights, stares into the mirror. Nathan looks at the reflected face of Nathan Petrelli, sighs, looks down, and finally lets go of the carefully crafted illusion that she’s been clinging to all day long.
Candice looks back up at the mirror, sits down on the toilet lid, puts her face in her hands. Angela had proposed this as a way to hold onto the torn and fragmented plans Linderman had once espoused… but it’s hard. So very hard. And she feels as though she’s losing more and more of herself with every day she spends as Nathan.
Every day is different. And every day is the same.