All the People We Used to Know, Part 10/12
Title: All the People We Used to Know (10/12)
Sequel to: The Price of a Memory
Pairings: Peter/Claude
Rating: R
Warnings: slash, AU, loosely holiday-related, starts out on the fluffy side but doesn’t stay that way, liberties taken with the Season Two timeline of events, possible inconsistency with canon materials not aired on television
Spoilers: AU after the end of Season One, but through Season Two just to be safe.
Summary: Six months after the events of The Price of a Memory, Claude finds himself participating under protest in a Petrelli family gathering. But more is going on than meets the eye and soon Claude and Peter are faced with a difficult decision.
Disclaimer: Heroes and the associated characters don’t belong to me.
Previous Parts: Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine
All the People We Used to Know, Part 10/12
“You could stay, you know,” Claude said from where he’d seated himself on the edge of the bed in the guest room. He’d been watching Peter wander about the room broodingly for about an hour now, randomly stuffing things into his suitcase only to take them back out again. “I could go back to New York and you could stay here for a bit over Christmas. If that’s what you want.”
In a way, Claude had to give Peter’s relatives credit--they’d managed to hold out until the last twenty-four hours of his scheduled visit before they’d started openly pressuring him into staying that extra week so they could all be together for the actual Christmas holiday. It had started with a few casually dropped hints and culminated in what amounted to an ambush at the dinner table, orchestrated primarily by Nathan and Angela and supported by Heidi and the boys.
Through it all, Claude half-expected Peter to eventually give in but in response to this final gambit, he’d only said, “It’s just that I kind of need to get back.”
“Get back to what, exactly?” his mother had asked him from across the table.
“Ma,” Nathan had cut in sternly before Peter had a chance to reply.
But Angela wasn’t deterred so easily. “No, I really want to know. What is it that you do in New York that’s so important, Peter?” she said. “It isn’t as though you have a job. You don’t have friends.” A pointed look thrown at Claude as if this was somehow his fault. “Wouldn’t it be more honest instead of saying you need to get back to simply say that you need to get away? From us, I mean.”
Peter’s jaw had tightened. He’d said nothing but the nerve had been struck and after dinner he’d escaped straight to the guest room, Claude close behind. Peter had been tense anyway after his secret discussion with Bennet the morning before. Now he fairly hummed with it and if there was anything Claude wanted, it was not to be stuck on a train for hours on end with a sullen, silent Peter sitting next to him.
Peter ran a hand through his hair, sighing into the depths of his haphazardly packed luggage. “I almost want to,” he admitted with difficulty. “I mean, it’s Christmas and I don’t spend as much time with them as I should. And my mother’s right. It’s not like I have a whole lot going for me in New York.”
Claude arched an eyebrow at him.
Peter rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean,” he said and Claude did. He’d been around enough to know how Peter chafed at what he perceived to be his own uselessness. As the boy had said once before, he’d had all the schooling he needed to hold a proper job--still had all the skills necessary for that whole nursing thing he’d been involved in before. But the unreliability of his memory meant he didn’t trust himself enough to actually do any of it anymore. Not yet, at any rate.
“The thing is,” Peter continued after a moment, “if I do stay through Christmas, then it’s going to be, ‘Why don’t you stay for New Year’s?’ And then suddenly Nathan will have this job for me at one of his offices and maybe I could live here with them or live in New York with my mother. I could try to be productive for once instead of just hanging around the city doing nothing with my…whatever.”
He slammed the top of the suitcase closed with one hand, barely missing the fingers of his other hand as it came down. Claude wondered if he’d meant to hit them the way Claire sometimes meant to stick her hand in a blender, just so he could feel that healing energy running through him as he watched his own body parts mend before his eyes. It was probably just reflex that had caused him to pull away at the last second.
“Fine, then,” Claude said after a tense moment of silence. “I just thought you should know it was all right with me, if that was what you were worried about.”
But of course it wouldn’t have been all right with him at all and he spent almost an entire sleepless night fearing that Peter would change his mind at the last second. Because he knew Peter was right. The Petrellis had managed to be civil enough during his week-long stay but when it came down to it, they would far rather have Peter under their watchful eye than anywhere else. Once they had him, they might never let him go again.
So it was a bit of relief the next day to be standing on the platform at the train station, moments way from escape. Even if it didn’t stop Nathan from trying one last time to convince Peter not to go.
“You know if you don’t stay I’m the one who’s going to get blamed, right?” he said. “It’s going to be all ‘You should be keeping a better eye on him’ and ‘He’s your responsibility now that your father’s gone.’” It was a frighteningly accurate imitation of Angela’s voice. “I’ll start having flashbacks to those times when they forced me to baby-sit you on the nanny’s night off.”
“You mean those times they forced you to baby-sit me and you spent the whole night ignoring me while you locked yourself in your room and made out with whatever girl you were going out with that week,” Peter said.
A smug smile tugged briefly at Nathan’s lips before fading into a more serious expression. “I’m just saying it would mean a lot to her,” he said, nodding over his shoulder to where Angela stood just out of earshot, a deep scowl on her face as she made a point of focusing elsewhere.
“I know,” Peter said. “But you guys always have the big parties with all the people I don’t know. And Matt, Mohinder and Molly…they really don’t have anybody else. I think it would mean more to them.”
Nathan rocked on his heels, lips slightly pursed. “So I guess it wouldn’t make a difference if I pointed out that we’re your family and we should take priority in this situation,” he said.
“No,” Peter said, sticking his hands deeply in the pockets of the coat he wore. “Sorry, but they’re my family now too.” Something twitched at the corner of Nathan’s eye and Claude knew Peter had hit a nerve on that one, whether he’d meant to or not.
Nathan looked down at his shoes. “Next year, then,” he said.
Peter’s shoulders relaxed a little in obvious relief. “Definitely,” he agreed.
“In the meantime, you’ll visit,” Nathan said. He didn’t quite look at Claude as he added, “Both of you.”
“I’d pretend to get all emotional except that I think you’re only saying that because you know how much it would torture me to have to spend any more time with you and your family than I absolutely have to,” Claude said.
“That and the kids liked you,” Nathan said. It was true, unfortunately. Like cats, children had a tendency to gravitate toward the people who liked them least and so Claude had found himself in the last few days constantly being climbed over like some sort of human playground equipment. “But just so you know, no one will be less thrilled than me if they start calling you Uncle Claude, okay?”
Claude made a face. “I think I’m going to be ill,” he said.
Seeming satisfied by this response, Nathan turned to Peter. “Look, I know you don’t want to hear this right now, but it wouldn’t hurt if you visited Mom once in a while too. You know, before she starts shoplifting again just to get our attention.”
“Or plotting another epic disaster involving the lives of millions of innocent civilians,” Claude added.
“God, don’t even get me started on that,” Nathan said as if everyone’s aging mother was prone to such things.
Luckily, there was no time to examine the subject further as the train finally arrived at the station. The push and pull of its entrance was cue enough for the rest of their seeing-off party to step forward just as Nathan drew Peter into a tight embrace, which Peter returned readily.
“You come visit too,” Peter said to his brother, barely loud enough for Claude to hear. “Someday when you’re spending time at your office in New York or whatever. Come by and see us.”
“I will,” Nathan said before pulling away and stepping aside so that the others could have their turn.
First off was Claire, who arched an eyebrow at Peter. “You’re really going to leave me here with these people?” she said.
“Just for a couple of days,” Peter said. “Then you’re back to California, right?”
“Yeah, back to Cali for the first Butler family Christmas. That should be interesting,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Listen,” she added, stepping closer, “your family is still crazy. And not, like, in the funny sitcom kind of way. Like, seriously crazy. But it was good to see you again.”
“Yeah,” Peter said, drawing her into a loose hug. “It was good to meet you too…again.” He cleared his throat. “Thanks for giving Nathan a chance.”
Claire lifted a shoulder as she pulled away. “I think it was worth it,” she said. “I mean, it still freaks my dad out--”
“But that’s half the fun, isn’t it?” Claude put in.
Claire smiled, turning to him. “You are a strange, strange person,” she said. “But thanks for…being honest with me about the things we talked about. It was kind of a nice change, being told the truth for once.” She hesitated. “Am I allowed to, like, hug you or anything?”
“I don’t do hugging,” Claude said. “You know how it is.”
“I don’t know,” Peter said. “Monty and Simon were mauling you pretty good before they let you leave the house earlier. And it kind of looked like you were letting them.”
“Yeah, well, have to make nice with the future villains of America, don’t I?” Claude said. Turning to Claire, he asked, “Settle for a friendly handshake?”
She proffered her hand and he took it, shaking it loosely and trying not to remember the baby girl in that burning building or the poodle-like toddler at the birthday party. There had been a time when he himself hadn’t been so unlike Thompson and the others at the Company in that he’d dreamed of using Claire to get back at Bennet for what had been done to him. Now this.
As Claire shook Claude’s hand, Bennet hovered until she stepped away and it was time for him to take his turn. With a stiff kind of formality, he reached out and shook Peter’s hand before turning to Claude, who kept his hands at his sides, refusing the gesture. Letting his own hand drop, Bennet peered at both of them over the rims of his sizeable lenses and said, “Think about what I told you.”
No telling who it was he was addressing but it occurred to Claude that this was probably the point of such an ambiguous farewell. As far as what Bennet had talked about with each of them, he and Peter had yet to exchange stories, choosing to sort their own thoughts and let the weight of it all settle inside their heads before initiating any kind of discussion. Sensing their reticence, Bennet had taken it upon himself to accelerate the process by making it impossible for them not to ask each other what he had meant.
“Peter,” Angela Petrelli said as she approached them. She didn’t seem the type for affectionate embraces in public settings, but Claude thought if there was anyone she’d make an exception for, it was Peter--even if she was a bit put out with him at the moment. Instead, all she did was put a hand on each of her son’s shoulders and make kissing sounds next to each of his cheeks. That done, she looked between them, the severity of her frown deepened by the lines bracketing her mouth. “I think you’ll both be sorry,” was all she said before stepping away.
“Merry fucking Christmas to you too,” Claude muttered, watching her go.
Good-byes said, Peter and Claude boarded the train and found their seats. Peter took the window, slouching down a bit as if to hide from any family members who might be lingering on the platform, though Claude was sure they’d all gone the moment the boarding call had officially been made. Sighing so that his breath made a cloud of moisture on the glass, Peter reached for Claude’s hand and threaded their fingers loosely together.
Superstitiously, Claude waited for the train to start moving before he spoke. “I suppose you want to talk about--”
“No,” Peter said, not looking away from the window. “Not yet.”
Claude sighed. “All right, then,” he said.
Part Eleven
Sequel to: The Price of a Memory
Pairings: Peter/Claude
Rating: R
Warnings: slash, AU, loosely holiday-related, starts out on the fluffy side but doesn’t stay that way, liberties taken with the Season Two timeline of events, possible inconsistency with canon materials not aired on television
Spoilers: AU after the end of Season One, but through Season Two just to be safe.
Summary: Six months after the events of The Price of a Memory, Claude finds himself participating under protest in a Petrelli family gathering. But more is going on than meets the eye and soon Claude and Peter are faced with a difficult decision.
Disclaimer: Heroes and the associated characters don’t belong to me.
Previous Parts: Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine
All the People We Used to Know, Part 10/12
“You could stay, you know,” Claude said from where he’d seated himself on the edge of the bed in the guest room. He’d been watching Peter wander about the room broodingly for about an hour now, randomly stuffing things into his suitcase only to take them back out again. “I could go back to New York and you could stay here for a bit over Christmas. If that’s what you want.”
In a way, Claude had to give Peter’s relatives credit--they’d managed to hold out until the last twenty-four hours of his scheduled visit before they’d started openly pressuring him into staying that extra week so they could all be together for the actual Christmas holiday. It had started with a few casually dropped hints and culminated in what amounted to an ambush at the dinner table, orchestrated primarily by Nathan and Angela and supported by Heidi and the boys.
Through it all, Claude half-expected Peter to eventually give in but in response to this final gambit, he’d only said, “It’s just that I kind of need to get back.”
“Get back to what, exactly?” his mother had asked him from across the table.
“Ma,” Nathan had cut in sternly before Peter had a chance to reply.
But Angela wasn’t deterred so easily. “No, I really want to know. What is it that you do in New York that’s so important, Peter?” she said. “It isn’t as though you have a job. You don’t have friends.” A pointed look thrown at Claude as if this was somehow his fault. “Wouldn’t it be more honest instead of saying you need to get back to simply say that you need to get away? From us, I mean.”
Peter’s jaw had tightened. He’d said nothing but the nerve had been struck and after dinner he’d escaped straight to the guest room, Claude close behind. Peter had been tense anyway after his secret discussion with Bennet the morning before. Now he fairly hummed with it and if there was anything Claude wanted, it was not to be stuck on a train for hours on end with a sullen, silent Peter sitting next to him.
Peter ran a hand through his hair, sighing into the depths of his haphazardly packed luggage. “I almost want to,” he admitted with difficulty. “I mean, it’s Christmas and I don’t spend as much time with them as I should. And my mother’s right. It’s not like I have a whole lot going for me in New York.”
Claude arched an eyebrow at him.
Peter rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean,” he said and Claude did. He’d been around enough to know how Peter chafed at what he perceived to be his own uselessness. As the boy had said once before, he’d had all the schooling he needed to hold a proper job--still had all the skills necessary for that whole nursing thing he’d been involved in before. But the unreliability of his memory meant he didn’t trust himself enough to actually do any of it anymore. Not yet, at any rate.
“The thing is,” Peter continued after a moment, “if I do stay through Christmas, then it’s going to be, ‘Why don’t you stay for New Year’s?’ And then suddenly Nathan will have this job for me at one of his offices and maybe I could live here with them or live in New York with my mother. I could try to be productive for once instead of just hanging around the city doing nothing with my…whatever.”
He slammed the top of the suitcase closed with one hand, barely missing the fingers of his other hand as it came down. Claude wondered if he’d meant to hit them the way Claire sometimes meant to stick her hand in a blender, just so he could feel that healing energy running through him as he watched his own body parts mend before his eyes. It was probably just reflex that had caused him to pull away at the last second.
“Fine, then,” Claude said after a tense moment of silence. “I just thought you should know it was all right with me, if that was what you were worried about.”
But of course it wouldn’t have been all right with him at all and he spent almost an entire sleepless night fearing that Peter would change his mind at the last second. Because he knew Peter was right. The Petrellis had managed to be civil enough during his week-long stay but when it came down to it, they would far rather have Peter under their watchful eye than anywhere else. Once they had him, they might never let him go again.
So it was a bit of relief the next day to be standing on the platform at the train station, moments way from escape. Even if it didn’t stop Nathan from trying one last time to convince Peter not to go.
“You know if you don’t stay I’m the one who’s going to get blamed, right?” he said. “It’s going to be all ‘You should be keeping a better eye on him’ and ‘He’s your responsibility now that your father’s gone.’” It was a frighteningly accurate imitation of Angela’s voice. “I’ll start having flashbacks to those times when they forced me to baby-sit you on the nanny’s night off.”
“You mean those times they forced you to baby-sit me and you spent the whole night ignoring me while you locked yourself in your room and made out with whatever girl you were going out with that week,” Peter said.
A smug smile tugged briefly at Nathan’s lips before fading into a more serious expression. “I’m just saying it would mean a lot to her,” he said, nodding over his shoulder to where Angela stood just out of earshot, a deep scowl on her face as she made a point of focusing elsewhere.
“I know,” Peter said. “But you guys always have the big parties with all the people I don’t know. And Matt, Mohinder and Molly…they really don’t have anybody else. I think it would mean more to them.”
Nathan rocked on his heels, lips slightly pursed. “So I guess it wouldn’t make a difference if I pointed out that we’re your family and we should take priority in this situation,” he said.
“No,” Peter said, sticking his hands deeply in the pockets of the coat he wore. “Sorry, but they’re my family now too.” Something twitched at the corner of Nathan’s eye and Claude knew Peter had hit a nerve on that one, whether he’d meant to or not.
Nathan looked down at his shoes. “Next year, then,” he said.
Peter’s shoulders relaxed a little in obvious relief. “Definitely,” he agreed.
“In the meantime, you’ll visit,” Nathan said. He didn’t quite look at Claude as he added, “Both of you.”
“I’d pretend to get all emotional except that I think you’re only saying that because you know how much it would torture me to have to spend any more time with you and your family than I absolutely have to,” Claude said.
“That and the kids liked you,” Nathan said. It was true, unfortunately. Like cats, children had a tendency to gravitate toward the people who liked them least and so Claude had found himself in the last few days constantly being climbed over like some sort of human playground equipment. “But just so you know, no one will be less thrilled than me if they start calling you Uncle Claude, okay?”
Claude made a face. “I think I’m going to be ill,” he said.
Seeming satisfied by this response, Nathan turned to Peter. “Look, I know you don’t want to hear this right now, but it wouldn’t hurt if you visited Mom once in a while too. You know, before she starts shoplifting again just to get our attention.”
“Or plotting another epic disaster involving the lives of millions of innocent civilians,” Claude added.
“God, don’t even get me started on that,” Nathan said as if everyone’s aging mother was prone to such things.
Luckily, there was no time to examine the subject further as the train finally arrived at the station. The push and pull of its entrance was cue enough for the rest of their seeing-off party to step forward just as Nathan drew Peter into a tight embrace, which Peter returned readily.
“You come visit too,” Peter said to his brother, barely loud enough for Claude to hear. “Someday when you’re spending time at your office in New York or whatever. Come by and see us.”
“I will,” Nathan said before pulling away and stepping aside so that the others could have their turn.
First off was Claire, who arched an eyebrow at Peter. “You’re really going to leave me here with these people?” she said.
“Just for a couple of days,” Peter said. “Then you’re back to California, right?”
“Yeah, back to Cali for the first Butler family Christmas. That should be interesting,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Listen,” she added, stepping closer, “your family is still crazy. And not, like, in the funny sitcom kind of way. Like, seriously crazy. But it was good to see you again.”
“Yeah,” Peter said, drawing her into a loose hug. “It was good to meet you too…again.” He cleared his throat. “Thanks for giving Nathan a chance.”
Claire lifted a shoulder as she pulled away. “I think it was worth it,” she said. “I mean, it still freaks my dad out--”
“But that’s half the fun, isn’t it?” Claude put in.
Claire smiled, turning to him. “You are a strange, strange person,” she said. “But thanks for…being honest with me about the things we talked about. It was kind of a nice change, being told the truth for once.” She hesitated. “Am I allowed to, like, hug you or anything?”
“I don’t do hugging,” Claude said. “You know how it is.”
“I don’t know,” Peter said. “Monty and Simon were mauling you pretty good before they let you leave the house earlier. And it kind of looked like you were letting them.”
“Yeah, well, have to make nice with the future villains of America, don’t I?” Claude said. Turning to Claire, he asked, “Settle for a friendly handshake?”
She proffered her hand and he took it, shaking it loosely and trying not to remember the baby girl in that burning building or the poodle-like toddler at the birthday party. There had been a time when he himself hadn’t been so unlike Thompson and the others at the Company in that he’d dreamed of using Claire to get back at Bennet for what had been done to him. Now this.
As Claire shook Claude’s hand, Bennet hovered until she stepped away and it was time for him to take his turn. With a stiff kind of formality, he reached out and shook Peter’s hand before turning to Claude, who kept his hands at his sides, refusing the gesture. Letting his own hand drop, Bennet peered at both of them over the rims of his sizeable lenses and said, “Think about what I told you.”
No telling who it was he was addressing but it occurred to Claude that this was probably the point of such an ambiguous farewell. As far as what Bennet had talked about with each of them, he and Peter had yet to exchange stories, choosing to sort their own thoughts and let the weight of it all settle inside their heads before initiating any kind of discussion. Sensing their reticence, Bennet had taken it upon himself to accelerate the process by making it impossible for them not to ask each other what he had meant.
“Peter,” Angela Petrelli said as she approached them. She didn’t seem the type for affectionate embraces in public settings, but Claude thought if there was anyone she’d make an exception for, it was Peter--even if she was a bit put out with him at the moment. Instead, all she did was put a hand on each of her son’s shoulders and make kissing sounds next to each of his cheeks. That done, she looked between them, the severity of her frown deepened by the lines bracketing her mouth. “I think you’ll both be sorry,” was all she said before stepping away.
“Merry fucking Christmas to you too,” Claude muttered, watching her go.
Good-byes said, Peter and Claude boarded the train and found their seats. Peter took the window, slouching down a bit as if to hide from any family members who might be lingering on the platform, though Claude was sure they’d all gone the moment the boarding call had officially been made. Sighing so that his breath made a cloud of moisture on the glass, Peter reached for Claude’s hand and threaded their fingers loosely together.
Superstitiously, Claude waited for the train to start moving before he spoke. “I suppose you want to talk about--”
“No,” Peter said, not looking away from the window. “Not yet.”
Claude sighed. “All right, then,” he said.
Part Eleven