One-shot challenge #17 - Alternate Universe
Title Tonight, I don't want to walk alone
Author twin_cheeks
Rating PG-13
Warnings Very, very mild spoilers for S1 that aren't actually direct
Word count 3,348
Summary Peter tells a story about what could have been. Written for one-shot challenge #17 @ pairechallenge. Un-beta'd, purely because I can't stick to the time I allocate myself to write these things :/
**
“What're you watchin'?” Claire slurred out. Her head fell back as she began to slide down the couch, the playful smile on her lips giving Peter his first clue that something was definitely up.
“Pirates of the Caribbean,” Peter answered, eyes glued firmly to the screen. “The second one.”
He was, as per usual, quite oblivious when it came to anything wrong or questionable that Claire might have been doing or planning.
She wondered briefly if this would be harder than she first thought.
“Oh,” Claire paused to glance sideways at him. “I've never seen it before.”
Peter shrugged, one corner of his lips curving upward. “It's only a few minutes in, you can pick up on the story-line.”
Silence fell between them once more. It was never uncomfortable, though.
If anything, it was actually quite nice. Being next to Peter with no words to distract often allowed Claire to-
“Are you picking it up?” Peter cut into her thoughts with a small smirk. Claire blinked and looked away from him and back to the television. She shrugged.
“I've only been sitting here for two minutes,” She mumbled quietly.
“Well Claire, that's two minutes of plot that you've missed.”
Claire lifted an eyebrow. “Are you giving me cheek?”
Peter merely smirked and shook his head, keeping his gaze firmly on the screen before them.
When it became apparent that he wasn't going to look back at her, Claire's annoyed expression cleared and she sighed, looking to the screen as well.
“Don't you think it would make more sense if he couldn't get her out?”
“Hmmm?”
“Well,” Claire shrugged. “I just think that him being able to sneak her out of the cell is a bit silly. Wouldn't they have tighter security than that?”
“She's not being held in Guantanamo, Claire,” Peter mused. “Besides, if she wasn't let out then there'd be no story-line.”
“Well you can't know that, can you?” Claire teased. “I just think it's stupid when they do things like that. Just like when the girl aaalways goes looking for the source of the noise in the horror movie. It would make so much more sense if she went running the other way.”
“But again, there'd be no story-line.”
“Screw your story-lines!” Claire proclaimed dramatically. She heard Peter chuckle, which only seemed to spur her on more. “I wish I could just...take all these silly little movie mistakes and change them so that they made sense. I could create an alternate universe for all these movie characters. They would be much safer.”
Peter turned his head toward her, temporarily ignoring the movie. “An alternate universe?”
“Yeah,” Claire nodded, thinking back to the day Zach had explained the term to her. She shuffled, bringing her feet up onto the couch and turning her body toward Peter. “Like...if one circumstance or choice was changed, then it creates an entirely new world than the one that would have existed if another choice was made.”
“But it only exists as a concept, right?”
“Yeah. So, like...” She paused to breath, shifting in her seat. “Kinda like if there was our world, and then an imaginary world where...maybe, Nathan wasn't my dad.”
There was a brief pause, and Claire wondered if Peter would pick up on what she was implying.
If he had, then he wasn't showing it.
“Or where none of us had abilities,” Peter mused. “We were all just normal people and abilities never existed.”
Claire shrugged, not wanting to admit to herself that she was slightly disappointed at the fact that his thoughts weren't heading in the same direction as her own.
Well, not yet. She could change that, though.
“Maybe a world where you were the one who was adopted, not me.”
Peter shifted slightly. “Or one where I'm the one who can fly and Nathan's the one who could do what I can.”
“How about one where Meridith lied about sleeping with Nathan?”
Peter shook his head. “What if it was the entire human race with abilities, not just a few of us?”
“Maybe a world where I was a bit older. Like...twenty-three, maybe.”
“Or one where Sylar never existed and he never-”
“No!” The gasp had torn so suddenly from her throat, that she stunned even herself. She blinked and looked off, knowing that Peter was now eyeing her over rather curiously.
“I mean-”
What did she mean?
“If Sylar never existed, then I-”
“Would be a lot safer,” Peter cut in protectively.
“Well, yes. But I wouldn't-”
“Have to live in fear of him finding you again.”
“Yes, but...” Claire sighed, exasperated by the fact that - even when they were imagining an alternate universe - Peter was still insanely protective of her.
“If he never existed, then he would never have come after you-”
“And we would never have met,” Claire cut in quietly, eyes now set in the opposite direction.
Peter seemed to falter at this, finally understanding why she had sounded so panicked at the mere mention of the idea.
Claire heard him exhale and she hugged her knees closer, lips forming a flat line.
“There's a lot of things that would be better if we could live in an alternate universe,” She whispered quietly. “If there was no Sylar and no abilities. Everyone would be normal and I'd be back home in Texas and you wouldn't be stuck here babysitting me while my dad is out trying to win an election.”
Beside her, Peter shifted. She felt his hand close over her own, squeezing tight. She closed her eyes.
“Okay, in our alternate universe, Sylar can still exist,” Peter murmured to her. Claire gave a small smile, but still couldn't bring herself to look up at him.
“And...” Peter breathed out, his grip on her hand tightening slightly. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him shrug. “Maybe...Meridith could have been lying.”
Claire felt her breath catch in her throat.
“Maybe I was adopted,” He continued, voice soft and gentle. “And maybe you could be a little bit older.”
The corners of her lips twitched upward ever-so-slightly. Her eyes opened and she met his gaze with barely-there delight.
“Twenty-four?” Claire muttered.
“Twenty.” Peter offered. Claire considered this for a moment, then nodded, seemingly pleased with the brief negotiation.
“But why twenty?” Claire questioned curiously.
“Just past eighteen, but not quite twenty-one,” Peter shrugged. He eyed her over, almost reverently. “You wouldn't be allowed to drink.”
Claire's lips formed a small 'oh', though she still didn't quite understand his logic behind that.
Slowly, Peter pried one of her hands away from her legs, spreading her fingers to open up her hand. He opened up his own, pressing their fingertips together, his fingers and palm soon following.
“And in this alternate universe, where you're twenty and I'm adopted and Nathan isn't your father,” Peter continued, his words quiet and careful, as though whispering a secret only meant for her. “You're a college student,” He added, eyes moving to lock with hers.
“You decide you want to come study at NYU,” He continued. “So you pack up all your things and say goodbye to your mom and your dad and your little brother, and you drive all the way up to New York with your clothes and books in the back of your car.”
“What do I do once I get there?”
“You move into your dorm room,” Peter answered, his smirk suggesting it was obvious, though he seemed more amused by this than anything else. “You get to know your room mate and her friends, you start classes and live the college life- y'know, late nights with lots of caffeine and book piles that are much taller than you are-”
“Hey!” Claire protested with a laugh. She never appreciated jabs at her height, and despite his playful wink, Peter was no exception.
“Okay, maybe you're a little taller.”
“That's better. Am I smart?”
“The smartest girl out there,” Peter answered immediately. “Beautiful, too. All your friends are absolutely seething, because your Professors love you and your grades are perfect and the boys are on their hands and knees trying to make you theirs.”
At this, Claire blushed and looked away. There had never been that much interest in her back in Texas. Brody had been the only boy interested and Jackie had been the only friend jealous. She couldn't see why any of that would change, just because they were imagining an alternate universe.
Gently, Peter took his free hand and grasped her chin, turning her head back to face him. She frowned lightly, but did not resist as he maintained his gentle hold and continued to speak.
“One day, you're out shopping for books,” He murmured. “Coffee in one hand, some Tolstoy in the other-”
“Tolstoy?” Claire cast him an amused, disbelieving look.
Peter nodded. “Tolstoy.” He adjusted their hands, interlocking their fingers and squeezing tight. “Coffee in one hand, Tolstoy in the other, you're just too engrossed to realise where you're going. You run into someone- a boy.”
“Is he cute?”
“Pfft,” Peter rolled his eyes. “'Is he cute?'. He's drop-dead gorgeous. Dark eyes, dark hair, crooked smile...”
Claire flushed. “Sounds familiar.”
“Perhaps,” Peter mused. His grip on her hand tightened as he brought it toward his lips, kissing the back with the lightest of touches. “You drop your book. You blush, you apologise, tell him that you hadn't been looking where you were going. He smiles and bends down to pick up your book - he sees the cover and knows instantly, he's run into the smartest and most beautiful girl to ever walk the earth.
“He hands it back to you, smiling. You blush again and turn to walk away, but he stops you- because he has to know you, not just your name or where you're from, but everything.”
Claire swallowed thickly, eyes darting back and forth between Peter's. She could feel her insides trembling, her stomach alive with the flutter of tiny little wings.
Peter didn't seem to be having any trouble controlling himself. The moment had long passed where either of them could question just what this story was about.
It was no longer about the 'what ifs', changing choices that had always been out of their control. It was about them, in any other universe but their own, where they weren't related or kept apart by any force in the universe. Because anything - anything - was better than what they were.
“He stops you,” Peter repeated in a whisper, brushing her hair back from her face. “And asks you to recommend a book - any book. You're standing next to the fiction section, so you recommend some Charlotte Bronte, maybe even Audrey Niffenegger, if he's the kind of guy who doesn't mind that sort of thing.
“He nods, but neither of those really interest him. He looks down to your book, asks you about it - is it interesting? Is it complicated or easy? How many times have you read it? Why do you keep reading it? It's a worn copy, so he knows it's your own and he knows that you've read it over and over.
“You tell him that you re-read it whenever you can, but lately, things just haven't gone right - you haven't had the time, you can't concentrate on anything but your classes. It's torture, you joke with a smile.
“He grabs hold of your upper arm and gently pulls you out of the way of the bustling shopkeeper. You smile and thank him - he nods and smiles, too, but doesn't release your arm. You lock gazes, and he murmurs to you that it gets better - life after college, life after a bad day. It gets a lot better.”
“Is it a promise?”
“It's more than a promise,” Peter shrugged. His thumb had begun to rub small circles along the side of her hand. “He speaks softly, tells you that he can show you how much better life can be. Will you let him take you out for dinner that night?”
“Will I?”
“I don't know, you tell me.”
Claire nodded almost immediately, answering quietly, “Yeah, I will.”
“You agree, then. You let him take you out to the most beautiful restaurant in the city, let him buy you a beautiful rose and take you strolling through Central Park afterward. And when he asks to know you, asks who you are, where you're from, why you're there, you tell him everything - no holding back, because you know you can trust him. You know that he's the one, and he knows it too, even though you've barely known each other for more than a few hours.”
“Like fate,” Claire murmured.
“Like fate,” Peter agreed.
He paused in his little story, looking down to the hands with little else but wonder in his eyes.
He sighed and looked back up to her, and for a moment, Claire feared that the story was over. That this was where their alternate universe ended.
Her throat constricted and she looked away, moving to pull her hand back. His grip tightened.
“I'm not done,” Peter spoke, soft yet firm. Claire let out a shaky breath and nodded, waiting for him to continue. She wasn't even sure if she could listen for much longer without completely breaking down.
“Fate brings you together, and that's the only part fate has in your lives. No surprises, no pain, no suffering. You take him to Texas to meet your parents and he buys you an expensive dress to escort you to his brothers election party. You go out every other night and spend each and every day together. You help him understand Tolstoy and he pretends like he's helping you with your biology, even though you both know you'll never need it.
“You spend days in the sunlight and nights under the stars, talking and murmuring secrets for just you two to hear. One day, he wonders what life would be like without you - without his shining star, his sunlight, his moonlight, his oxygen. Would he even be able to breath without you there? Could he even stand on his own two feet, knowing you were gone?
“He goes out and buys you a ring-”
Claire swallowed thickly and looked down, feeling the sting of tears at the corners of her eyes.
The story, no matter how imaginary it may be, was becoming far too heart breaking for her to listen to. Hearing things that they would never be able to do, things that would never happen, it was absolute torture.
“-and once he has that ring, he runs to find you. He doesn't care where you are or what you're doing, only that you're there. He takes you by surprise, makes you gasp in delight as he squeezes your hand in his-”
Peter's grip on her hand tightened.
“-and places his other hand at the back of your head, bringing your foreheads together-”
His free hand brushed at her hair, pushing it back from her forehead so that he could press his own against it. Claire closed her eyes, lips trembling as they parted.
“-and when you open your eyes, his gaze locks with yours and you can barely breath. You can feel every inch of your body trembling, every nerve crying out, because being that close to him is all you'll ever need and you know he feels exactly the same.”
As he spoke every word, Claire felt it happening. Body trembling, nerves on fire, the feeling that she could never be close enough to him but if this was as close as she would ever get, then she would have to settle.
Their noses brushed and she opened her eyes, their gazes locking instantly.
Peter smiled softly, searching her eyes as he spoke. “He doesn't ask you to marry him. He doesn't get down on one knee and recite a well-practised speech, he doesn't cause a scene and make every girl around you swoon in jealousy. He simply takes the ring from his pocket, places it in your hand, and tells you to marry him.”
Claire felt the first tears fall, sliding shamelessly down her cheeks and crossing over parted lips. She laughed, not entirely sure whether she was in pain or in love; when it came to Peter, the two were impossible to distinguish.
“He takes you to Italy,” Peter murmured, thumb stroking gently across her cheek, catching her tears. “He marries you under the setting sun and spends three days in bed with you. White sheets and open windows, sunlight pouring in as he watches over your sleeping form, wondering how he was so lucky to have found you. To have kept you. He wants to have you forever.”
Claire shook her head and swallowed. “But he can't. Because-because we can't live forever. There's no abilities, no healing, we'll grow old and die.”
“Exactly,” Peter whispered. His lips brushed against the tip of her nose as she closed her eyes, more tears falling freely. “And the thought kills him, knowing that he won't have you forever - only a fraction of forever. He spends his nights wondering what it would be like if the world were different, if he could have you forever, and he thinks he would prefer it that way. No matter the price he had to pay, he would do it. If he could have you forever, even if you were only there beside him and nothing else, then he would do it.”
Claire glanced up, eyebrows knotting together over thick lashes and watery orbs.
Peter pulled her in close, arms wrapping tightly around her shoulders, locking her to him.
“I'd rather have you forever, just like this, than risk losing you in a world - some alternate universe - where anything could happen to you, Claire,” He whispered into her ear. “I couldn't handle that. I couldn't handle the thought - hell, I can't handle the thought, not now, not ever.”
Claire nodded into his chest, but never responded.
The thought of an alternate universe, another world, another life, had always seemed so perfect. No abilities, no Nathan, where she could have a normal life and have Peter, where nothing went wrong.
The more she thought about it, though, the more she realised that some things couldn't be changed. If things were different, even just slightly, she mightn't even have Peter in her life.
There was every chance that their paths would never collide, that she would never run into him in a bookstore or on the street or at a friends party...
She hiccuped quietly, feeling Peter's grip on her tighten.
“I'll never have you,” She whispered quietly.
“Maybe not,” Peter answered. Claire could hear the pain in his voice, the trouble he had at confessing it out loud, even though it was something they had both repeated in the sanctuary of their own minds.
“But maybe things will change,” He added. “Maybe in one hundred years time, none of it will matter. Maybe we can pretend we did meet in a bookstore. That we're normal.”
Claire could only nod into his chest, the noise of the television fading into the background as he whispered quiet assurances in her ear.
She couldn't believe it, not now, but there was a part of her that would always hope for it.
Fin.
**
A/N This one kinda ran away on its own. Lately, I've been all about the "old Heroes". I'm writing a multi-chapter Paire fic and I kinda enjoyed writing this, too. I'm all about the relationships everyone had in S1 - how innocent and lovely everything was, how much of a connection and struggle these two had. I hope you felt it ❤
Author twin_cheeks
Rating PG-13
Warnings Very, very mild spoilers for S1 that aren't actually direct
Word count 3,348
Summary Peter tells a story about what could have been. Written for one-shot challenge #17 @ pairechallenge. Un-beta'd, purely because I can't stick to the time I allocate myself to write these things :/
**
“What're you watchin'?” Claire slurred out. Her head fell back as she began to slide down the couch, the playful smile on her lips giving Peter his first clue that something was definitely up.
“Pirates of the Caribbean,” Peter answered, eyes glued firmly to the screen. “The second one.”
He was, as per usual, quite oblivious when it came to anything wrong or questionable that Claire might have been doing or planning.
She wondered briefly if this would be harder than she first thought.
“Oh,” Claire paused to glance sideways at him. “I've never seen it before.”
Peter shrugged, one corner of his lips curving upward. “It's only a few minutes in, you can pick up on the story-line.”
Silence fell between them once more. It was never uncomfortable, though.
If anything, it was actually quite nice. Being next to Peter with no words to distract often allowed Claire to-
“Are you picking it up?” Peter cut into her thoughts with a small smirk. Claire blinked and looked away from him and back to the television. She shrugged.
“I've only been sitting here for two minutes,” She mumbled quietly.
“Well Claire, that's two minutes of plot that you've missed.”
Claire lifted an eyebrow. “Are you giving me cheek?”
Peter merely smirked and shook his head, keeping his gaze firmly on the screen before them.
When it became apparent that he wasn't going to look back at her, Claire's annoyed expression cleared and she sighed, looking to the screen as well.
“Don't you think it would make more sense if he couldn't get her out?”
“Hmmm?”
“Well,” Claire shrugged. “I just think that him being able to sneak her out of the cell is a bit silly. Wouldn't they have tighter security than that?”
“She's not being held in Guantanamo, Claire,” Peter mused. “Besides, if she wasn't let out then there'd be no story-line.”
“Well you can't know that, can you?” Claire teased. “I just think it's stupid when they do things like that. Just like when the girl aaalways goes looking for the source of the noise in the horror movie. It would make so much more sense if she went running the other way.”
“But again, there'd be no story-line.”
“Screw your story-lines!” Claire proclaimed dramatically. She heard Peter chuckle, which only seemed to spur her on more. “I wish I could just...take all these silly little movie mistakes and change them so that they made sense. I could create an alternate universe for all these movie characters. They would be much safer.”
Peter turned his head toward her, temporarily ignoring the movie. “An alternate universe?”
“Yeah,” Claire nodded, thinking back to the day Zach had explained the term to her. She shuffled, bringing her feet up onto the couch and turning her body toward Peter. “Like...if one circumstance or choice was changed, then it creates an entirely new world than the one that would have existed if another choice was made.”
“But it only exists as a concept, right?”
“Yeah. So, like...” She paused to breath, shifting in her seat. “Kinda like if there was our world, and then an imaginary world where...maybe, Nathan wasn't my dad.”
There was a brief pause, and Claire wondered if Peter would pick up on what she was implying.
If he had, then he wasn't showing it.
“Or where none of us had abilities,” Peter mused. “We were all just normal people and abilities never existed.”
Claire shrugged, not wanting to admit to herself that she was slightly disappointed at the fact that his thoughts weren't heading in the same direction as her own.
Well, not yet. She could change that, though.
“Maybe a world where you were the one who was adopted, not me.”
Peter shifted slightly. “Or one where I'm the one who can fly and Nathan's the one who could do what I can.”
“How about one where Meridith lied about sleeping with Nathan?”
Peter shook his head. “What if it was the entire human race with abilities, not just a few of us?”
“Maybe a world where I was a bit older. Like...twenty-three, maybe.”
“Or one where Sylar never existed and he never-”
“No!” The gasp had torn so suddenly from her throat, that she stunned even herself. She blinked and looked off, knowing that Peter was now eyeing her over rather curiously.
“I mean-”
What did she mean?
“If Sylar never existed, then I-”
“Would be a lot safer,” Peter cut in protectively.
“Well, yes. But I wouldn't-”
“Have to live in fear of him finding you again.”
“Yes, but...” Claire sighed, exasperated by the fact that - even when they were imagining an alternate universe - Peter was still insanely protective of her.
“If he never existed, then he would never have come after you-”
“And we would never have met,” Claire cut in quietly, eyes now set in the opposite direction.
Peter seemed to falter at this, finally understanding why she had sounded so panicked at the mere mention of the idea.
Claire heard him exhale and she hugged her knees closer, lips forming a flat line.
“There's a lot of things that would be better if we could live in an alternate universe,” She whispered quietly. “If there was no Sylar and no abilities. Everyone would be normal and I'd be back home in Texas and you wouldn't be stuck here babysitting me while my dad is out trying to win an election.”
Beside her, Peter shifted. She felt his hand close over her own, squeezing tight. She closed her eyes.
“Okay, in our alternate universe, Sylar can still exist,” Peter murmured to her. Claire gave a small smile, but still couldn't bring herself to look up at him.
“And...” Peter breathed out, his grip on her hand tightening slightly. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him shrug. “Maybe...Meridith could have been lying.”
Claire felt her breath catch in her throat.
“Maybe I was adopted,” He continued, voice soft and gentle. “And maybe you could be a little bit older.”
The corners of her lips twitched upward ever-so-slightly. Her eyes opened and she met his gaze with barely-there delight.
“Twenty-four?” Claire muttered.
“Twenty.” Peter offered. Claire considered this for a moment, then nodded, seemingly pleased with the brief negotiation.
“But why twenty?” Claire questioned curiously.
“Just past eighteen, but not quite twenty-one,” Peter shrugged. He eyed her over, almost reverently. “You wouldn't be allowed to drink.”
Claire's lips formed a small 'oh', though she still didn't quite understand his logic behind that.
Slowly, Peter pried one of her hands away from her legs, spreading her fingers to open up her hand. He opened up his own, pressing their fingertips together, his fingers and palm soon following.
“And in this alternate universe, where you're twenty and I'm adopted and Nathan isn't your father,” Peter continued, his words quiet and careful, as though whispering a secret only meant for her. “You're a college student,” He added, eyes moving to lock with hers.
“You decide you want to come study at NYU,” He continued. “So you pack up all your things and say goodbye to your mom and your dad and your little brother, and you drive all the way up to New York with your clothes and books in the back of your car.”
“What do I do once I get there?”
“You move into your dorm room,” Peter answered, his smirk suggesting it was obvious, though he seemed more amused by this than anything else. “You get to know your room mate and her friends, you start classes and live the college life- y'know, late nights with lots of caffeine and book piles that are much taller than you are-”
“Hey!” Claire protested with a laugh. She never appreciated jabs at her height, and despite his playful wink, Peter was no exception.
“Okay, maybe you're a little taller.”
“That's better. Am I smart?”
“The smartest girl out there,” Peter answered immediately. “Beautiful, too. All your friends are absolutely seething, because your Professors love you and your grades are perfect and the boys are on their hands and knees trying to make you theirs.”
At this, Claire blushed and looked away. There had never been that much interest in her back in Texas. Brody had been the only boy interested and Jackie had been the only friend jealous. She couldn't see why any of that would change, just because they were imagining an alternate universe.
Gently, Peter took his free hand and grasped her chin, turning her head back to face him. She frowned lightly, but did not resist as he maintained his gentle hold and continued to speak.
“One day, you're out shopping for books,” He murmured. “Coffee in one hand, some Tolstoy in the other-”
“Tolstoy?” Claire cast him an amused, disbelieving look.
Peter nodded. “Tolstoy.” He adjusted their hands, interlocking their fingers and squeezing tight. “Coffee in one hand, Tolstoy in the other, you're just too engrossed to realise where you're going. You run into someone- a boy.”
“Is he cute?”
“Pfft,” Peter rolled his eyes. “'Is he cute?'. He's drop-dead gorgeous. Dark eyes, dark hair, crooked smile...”
Claire flushed. “Sounds familiar.”
“Perhaps,” Peter mused. His grip on her hand tightened as he brought it toward his lips, kissing the back with the lightest of touches. “You drop your book. You blush, you apologise, tell him that you hadn't been looking where you were going. He smiles and bends down to pick up your book - he sees the cover and knows instantly, he's run into the smartest and most beautiful girl to ever walk the earth.
“He hands it back to you, smiling. You blush again and turn to walk away, but he stops you- because he has to know you, not just your name or where you're from, but everything.”
Claire swallowed thickly, eyes darting back and forth between Peter's. She could feel her insides trembling, her stomach alive with the flutter of tiny little wings.
Peter didn't seem to be having any trouble controlling himself. The moment had long passed where either of them could question just what this story was about.
It was no longer about the 'what ifs', changing choices that had always been out of their control. It was about them, in any other universe but their own, where they weren't related or kept apart by any force in the universe. Because anything - anything - was better than what they were.
“He stops you,” Peter repeated in a whisper, brushing her hair back from her face. “And asks you to recommend a book - any book. You're standing next to the fiction section, so you recommend some Charlotte Bronte, maybe even Audrey Niffenegger, if he's the kind of guy who doesn't mind that sort of thing.
“He nods, but neither of those really interest him. He looks down to your book, asks you about it - is it interesting? Is it complicated or easy? How many times have you read it? Why do you keep reading it? It's a worn copy, so he knows it's your own and he knows that you've read it over and over.
“You tell him that you re-read it whenever you can, but lately, things just haven't gone right - you haven't had the time, you can't concentrate on anything but your classes. It's torture, you joke with a smile.
“He grabs hold of your upper arm and gently pulls you out of the way of the bustling shopkeeper. You smile and thank him - he nods and smiles, too, but doesn't release your arm. You lock gazes, and he murmurs to you that it gets better - life after college, life after a bad day. It gets a lot better.”
“Is it a promise?”
“It's more than a promise,” Peter shrugged. His thumb had begun to rub small circles along the side of her hand. “He speaks softly, tells you that he can show you how much better life can be. Will you let him take you out for dinner that night?”
“Will I?”
“I don't know, you tell me.”
Claire nodded almost immediately, answering quietly, “Yeah, I will.”
“You agree, then. You let him take you out to the most beautiful restaurant in the city, let him buy you a beautiful rose and take you strolling through Central Park afterward. And when he asks to know you, asks who you are, where you're from, why you're there, you tell him everything - no holding back, because you know you can trust him. You know that he's the one, and he knows it too, even though you've barely known each other for more than a few hours.”
“Like fate,” Claire murmured.
“Like fate,” Peter agreed.
He paused in his little story, looking down to the hands with little else but wonder in his eyes.
He sighed and looked back up to her, and for a moment, Claire feared that the story was over. That this was where their alternate universe ended.
Her throat constricted and she looked away, moving to pull her hand back. His grip tightened.
“I'm not done,” Peter spoke, soft yet firm. Claire let out a shaky breath and nodded, waiting for him to continue. She wasn't even sure if she could listen for much longer without completely breaking down.
“Fate brings you together, and that's the only part fate has in your lives. No surprises, no pain, no suffering. You take him to Texas to meet your parents and he buys you an expensive dress to escort you to his brothers election party. You go out every other night and spend each and every day together. You help him understand Tolstoy and he pretends like he's helping you with your biology, even though you both know you'll never need it.
“You spend days in the sunlight and nights under the stars, talking and murmuring secrets for just you two to hear. One day, he wonders what life would be like without you - without his shining star, his sunlight, his moonlight, his oxygen. Would he even be able to breath without you there? Could he even stand on his own two feet, knowing you were gone?
“He goes out and buys you a ring-”
Claire swallowed thickly and looked down, feeling the sting of tears at the corners of her eyes.
The story, no matter how imaginary it may be, was becoming far too heart breaking for her to listen to. Hearing things that they would never be able to do, things that would never happen, it was absolute torture.
“-and once he has that ring, he runs to find you. He doesn't care where you are or what you're doing, only that you're there. He takes you by surprise, makes you gasp in delight as he squeezes your hand in his-”
Peter's grip on her hand tightened.
“-and places his other hand at the back of your head, bringing your foreheads together-”
His free hand brushed at her hair, pushing it back from her forehead so that he could press his own against it. Claire closed her eyes, lips trembling as they parted.
“-and when you open your eyes, his gaze locks with yours and you can barely breath. You can feel every inch of your body trembling, every nerve crying out, because being that close to him is all you'll ever need and you know he feels exactly the same.”
As he spoke every word, Claire felt it happening. Body trembling, nerves on fire, the feeling that she could never be close enough to him but if this was as close as she would ever get, then she would have to settle.
Their noses brushed and she opened her eyes, their gazes locking instantly.
Peter smiled softly, searching her eyes as he spoke. “He doesn't ask you to marry him. He doesn't get down on one knee and recite a well-practised speech, he doesn't cause a scene and make every girl around you swoon in jealousy. He simply takes the ring from his pocket, places it in your hand, and tells you to marry him.”
Claire felt the first tears fall, sliding shamelessly down her cheeks and crossing over parted lips. She laughed, not entirely sure whether she was in pain or in love; when it came to Peter, the two were impossible to distinguish.
“He takes you to Italy,” Peter murmured, thumb stroking gently across her cheek, catching her tears. “He marries you under the setting sun and spends three days in bed with you. White sheets and open windows, sunlight pouring in as he watches over your sleeping form, wondering how he was so lucky to have found you. To have kept you. He wants to have you forever.”
Claire shook her head and swallowed. “But he can't. Because-because we can't live forever. There's no abilities, no healing, we'll grow old and die.”
“Exactly,” Peter whispered. His lips brushed against the tip of her nose as she closed her eyes, more tears falling freely. “And the thought kills him, knowing that he won't have you forever - only a fraction of forever. He spends his nights wondering what it would be like if the world were different, if he could have you forever, and he thinks he would prefer it that way. No matter the price he had to pay, he would do it. If he could have you forever, even if you were only there beside him and nothing else, then he would do it.”
Claire glanced up, eyebrows knotting together over thick lashes and watery orbs.
Peter pulled her in close, arms wrapping tightly around her shoulders, locking her to him.
“I'd rather have you forever, just like this, than risk losing you in a world - some alternate universe - where anything could happen to you, Claire,” He whispered into her ear. “I couldn't handle that. I couldn't handle the thought - hell, I can't handle the thought, not now, not ever.”
Claire nodded into his chest, but never responded.
The thought of an alternate universe, another world, another life, had always seemed so perfect. No abilities, no Nathan, where she could have a normal life and have Peter, where nothing went wrong.
The more she thought about it, though, the more she realised that some things couldn't be changed. If things were different, even just slightly, she mightn't even have Peter in her life.
There was every chance that their paths would never collide, that she would never run into him in a bookstore or on the street or at a friends party...
She hiccuped quietly, feeling Peter's grip on her tighten.
“I'll never have you,” She whispered quietly.
“Maybe not,” Peter answered. Claire could hear the pain in his voice, the trouble he had at confessing it out loud, even though it was something they had both repeated in the sanctuary of their own minds.
“But maybe things will change,” He added. “Maybe in one hundred years time, none of it will matter. Maybe we can pretend we did meet in a bookstore. That we're normal.”
Claire could only nod into his chest, the noise of the television fading into the background as he whispered quiet assurances in her ear.
She couldn't believe it, not now, but there was a part of her that would always hope for it.
Fin.
**
A/N This one kinda ran away on its own. Lately, I've been all about the "old Heroes". I'm writing a multi-chapter Paire fic and I kinda enjoyed writing this, too. I'm all about the relationships everyone had in S1 - how innocent and lovely everything was, how much of a connection and struggle these two had. I hope you felt it ❤