Heroes, "Back to the Start" Edgar/Lydia | rated R
Fandom: Heroes
Title: Back to the Start
Author: Paynesgrey
Characters/Pairings: Lydia/Edgar, Claire Bennet
Rating: R
Genre: Drama/Romance
Word Count: 2,330
Spoilers/Notes: Retcon of a character's death, Season 4 end. Done for rtwofan for her help_haiti, who kindly gave me a lot of time to work on this, even though I'm a jerk for taking so long. Thanks to apckrfan for the beta.
Warnings: sexual situations
Summary: Claire Bennet helps Edgar bring Lydia back to life.
Before Edgar throws the knife, Lydia watches his clear expression. The knife smacks into the wood so close that she can feel the whoosh of air caress the shell of her ear. His bright eyes capture hers, and she smiles at the scowl on his face. Reluctantly, he smiles back, but his shoulders are still tense, and even though the audience applauds them, Lydia feels like they are the only ones in the whole world, playing and teasing one another.
It’s always like this during a show. Perhaps this is why they work so well together.
Lydia is comfortable with him. There’s hardly a mystery with Edgar. He lets her touch him; he lets her know everything. No secret is left beyond her grasp.
Lydia takes pride in this. Edgar would never dare trust anyone as much as he trusts her.
----
He finds Claire Bennet holed up in Samuel’s trailer after the shooting, and he dashes through the door with the intent to kill. Only, Edgar wonders if he really can kill the girl. He’s not stupid; he’s more than aware of her abilities.
Still, he wouldn’t mind giving the girl a good beating despite it all.
But he knows in his heart that it’s not Claire Bennet’s fault. The one who deserves the beating is Samuel, but he’s angry nonetheless.
He zips into the trailer and stops as Claire’s measured expression takes him in. She approaches him in desperation and regret. “Edgar, I’m sorry! I didn’t know... That wasn’t...My dad didn’t do this.”
He already knows this. He’s flashed around the carnival and seen the evidence. Samuel and Eli are the ones responsible for Lydia’s death.
There’s no hope, only the possibility to make allies, and maybe those allies could take Samuel down, and Edgar can get his revenge. He storms toward her, his fists clenched, and Claire steps back under his shadow. She doesn’t know his thoughts, or what to make of his anger.
She meets his eyes fiercely. “There may be a way to save her. I’ve seen it before, Edgar. It may not be too late.”
He watches as she holds out her forearm. “If you can find a syringe in time, you can take my blood. It heals people. My dad was shot in the face once, and it healed him after he was dead for a short time.”
Edgar furrows his brow in confusion. He doesn’t know if he can believe her. Her tone is desperate. Is this her bargaining chip so he won’t take revenge on her dad?
Like he would anyway.
But he’s willing to believe anything right now, even if Claire’s blood can heal his Lydia.
He doesn’t say a word; instead, he acts, searching the carnival for the syringe she wants. He finds one, and as soon as he’s left, he’s jamming the needle in her arm and drawing her blood. Claire winces, but she isn’t bothered by the pain. She only nods to him, and he feels confidence rolling off her.
Maybe this will work.
---
Edgar doesn’t mind a hard day’s work, as long as the days end like this, with his arms wrapped around Lydia’s svelte body. She feels as warm as the summer air against his skin, and some days, he doesn’t even want to get out of bed. He is almost afraid of being this close to someone, to be in love this much.
“What you thinking?” she asks, playing with the buttons of his open shirt. Evening has fallen, and the entire carnival rests on their day off from the regular shows. Tomorrow they’ll have to start up again, moving from city to different city.
“About you, love,” he says. He kisses the top of her head. “About how perfect this is.”
She stretches over him in the bed, straddling him as she wraps her arms around his neck. Edgar is aware on how little clothing she wears, and he supposes he’ll never get used to it. He doesn’t mind it, though, as long as she’s like this with him. He idly traces his fingers over the ink patterns of her skin.
Her hands slide through his hair, over his neck and down his back. He feels her power tug at his senses. Edgar watches as a picture forms on her arm. It’s someone he doesn’t even recognize, with dark brown eyebrows and a poorly shaved face. “Who is that?”
Lydia’s brow furrows. “I don’t know,” she says. “I have a feeling we’ll find out soon.”
She presses against him, drawing his lips into hers. “Let’s not worry about that now. It’s our day off.”
Edgar lifts her up, twirling her onto her back while Lydia screeches in surprise. She laughs as he trails kisses down her jaw and neck. “Yes, it is,” he says, sucking on the pulse point of her neck. She’s already lightly pulling away his clothes. He leaves hers as they are. Somewhere within Lydia’s outfits, he can always find simple access to her, from under the loose sleeves of her shirt, to below the billows of her skit. His hands find her breasts, squeezing the curves. She moans in his mouth as his other hand searches out the warmth between her legs. She arches against him as he dips a finger inside.
“Edgar,” she sighs against his lips.
“I’m sorry,” he says, and she chuckles against his mouth.
“For what?” she whispers.
“I’m ready...” he says, and she inhales deeply as he draws up her skirt and slides inside her. She wraps her legs around him, drawing him close, already matching his rhythm as he pushes deeper within. Warm and gentle, he tries not to go too fast, but it’s difficult; she consumes him, and her power is unbridled, feeling and tasting the darkest parts of him, soothing him like a summer storm. His powers are tempered and lulled, and instead he concentrates on feeling her, tasting the salt and wind on her body and nuzzling the ink stories over her skin.
She moans again in his air, and he can feel his peak rising. She shudders around him, tightening her thighs, and he lets a little power slip, speeding up his hips - though no more than necessary for her safety. She cries loudly - he’s sure the others can hear, but he doesn’t care. He grunts wildly, nuzzling in the crease of her shoulder, pounding hard as she slacks in his grasp.
Spilling inside her, he exhales a heavy breath before tenderly kissing her skin again, and shifting her body so he can wrap her in his arms. He whispers his love against her hair, and she snuggles like a perfect fit against his chest.
She runs her fingers lazily over his stomach, and she turns, meeting his eyes. “Sundays are my favorite days,” she says huskily, and Edgar chuckles.
“I dunno, Tuesdays can be quite fun too,” he says.
“What’s Tuesday?” she asks curiously, sitting up. He’s pulling the wet tresses of her hair out of her faces.
“Any other day I get to be with you,” he says. Her smile glows, bewitching him. She leans down and draws him into a deep kiss.
He watches her, his fingers still teasing through her hair. He tries not to think of the stranger that appeared on her skin, but Edgar can’t help himself.
He’s almost frightened. What will days be like if he didn’t have Lydia?
---
Stealing Lydia’s body almost kills him. Eli is snooping around, and getting past Samuel’s senses is even harder. Plus, holding Lydia’s lifeless body in his arms might as well throw a dagger into his heart.
Fortunately, Edgar manages to elude them, racing Lydia’s body out of the carnival to a far off place in the desert where he’s been hiding in since Samuel exiled him.
He has the syringe in his pocket, and though he doesn’t like it, he has doubts of this even working.
Edgar can’t stop the tears when he sets Lydia down on his bed. He pushes the hair out of her eyes, and he looks at her mortal wound with distress. Can he really bring someone back from the dead? This isn’t a fairytale or some story from the Bible. This is real life.
Though Lydia is an empath, and he’s a speedster, and Claire Bennet, well she can heal and never die. So can her blood heal others as well?
He cries when he jams the syringe into Lydia’s arm, pushing down as the blood flows through her. He sets it aside, and takes Lydia’s hand in his, like a prayer, and he calls out to any gods that will listen to him.
“Please...” he begs. Lydia is all the family he has left.
Minutes go by that feel like an eternity, and each passing second is another shadow on his doubt. Edgar closes his eyes tightly and kisses her hands. Even if this doesn’t work, he still has Lydia’s body. He can still give her a proper burial.
When he starts to think of where to bury her, her hands grip his in return, and she startles him. He jumps backward as she sits up and lets out a hoarse gasp, coughing on the blood that is dead from her system. She looks around, terrified, as if she’s reliving the last moments of her death. Edgar runs to her side, pulling her into an embrace. Still bewildered, Lydia turns to him weakly, and opens her mouth to speak. She can barely find the words, or the strength to form a thought.
As she looks into his eyes, Edgar can see her coming back to him.
“Edgar!” she exclaims, and her gaze sweeps around his meager surroundings, the cozy little ranch house in the Nevada desert. “What...Where am I? How did I?” She looks down at her bloodstained dress. “I...I died.”
Edgar sobs against her. “Yes, love.”
“Is this heaven?” she asks, and he shakes his head against her. He can barely come up from his embrace as he burrows his head against her hair.
“No, you were saved. Claire Bennet...she saved you,” he says.
Lydia nods lightly, still trying to cope with her situation and new surroundings.
“So she can do that too,” Lydia says idly. Edgar laughs within his sobs. Joy and relief consume him, and he cannot let her go. She melts into his touch.
“Yes, thank God, yes,” he says.
The sun sets when Edgar finally lets Lydia go. She insists on cleaning up, wearing a new dress, and foolishly, going back to the carnival.
“Hell no, Lydia.” Edgar insists, “They don’t know I saved you, and just because you’re alive doesn’t mean I’m not going to kill Samuel for what he did.”
“What will you do?” she asks.
“I’m going to find a way to stop Samuel, once and for all. Even if that means teaming up with Noah Bennet, I’ll stop him!”
“Then what? What about our home, Edgar? The carnival has always been our home,” she asks, and he notices she’s still worried about the rest of their family. Edgar loves that about her; it’s what will make her an excellent leader if she ever gets the chance. Though, with Samuel out of the way, the others might scatter, but Edgar believes Lydia has the power to bring them back.
“One step at a time, Lydia,” Edgar says. “We have to save everyone from Samuel first, and I intend to do this. Everyone should see him for what he truly is.”
“I wish I can come with you,” she says in frustration. Edgar leans down and grabs her biceps, meeting her eyes.
“You have a more important role later, Lydia,” Edgar says, and he lurches forward and kisses her. “Lay low for now, and I’ll be back. He’s doing his big show in New York tonight, and I’m going to stop him.”
“You can’t do this all by yourself,” she says.
Edgar stands up and smirks at her. “I won’t.” He gives her another sated look before taking off. “I love you.” Then he zips away. Lydia returns his love through the wind.
---
The remnants of the carnival scatter, and when news of Samuel’s incarceration hits everyone, people begin to look for new homes. Edgar thanks Noah and the people who helped him, and he returns to Lydia at his ranch. She’s watching his rickety tube TV when he gets back. Claire Bennet’s risky display has already hit the news.
“Well, Samuel got what he wanted anyway. The whole world knows about us,” she says, and Edgar pours her lemonade and sits next to her on the couch. She rests hers head against his shoulder, and they lose themselves in their thoughts.
“Is it such a bad thing?” Edgar wonders aloud, and Lydia sighs next to him.
“It could be,” she says. “But it’s still a relief. And nobody got hurt Claire’s way.”
“People are going to need you more than ever, Lydia,” he says, turning to her. He loves looking into her eyes, even at the most serious of times.
She nods as she looks away, staring beyond him. “I know. We need to bring people up again. We can start again, Edgar.” Lydia looks determined, and Edgar is glad to see her fire back.
“I’ll put the word out that you’re alive,” he says, and she wraps her arms around him.
“I’m coming with you this time,” she says, and Edgar knows he can’t say no to her. He pulls her into a soft embrace and switches off the news. Lydia sinks next to him, and he’s thankful for moments like this.
“I’m glad I didn’t lose you, love,” he says, and she murmurs “me too” against him. Twilight settles outside, and Edgar secures Lydia in his arms. Slumber weighs over their eyes, and they dream together, knowing the next morning will spur a lot of work for them, with a promising new beginning.
END
Title: Back to the Start
Author: Paynesgrey
Characters/Pairings: Lydia/Edgar, Claire Bennet
Rating: R
Genre: Drama/Romance
Word Count: 2,330
Spoilers/Notes: Retcon of a character's death, Season 4 end. Done for rtwofan for her help_haiti, who kindly gave me a lot of time to work on this, even though I'm a jerk for taking so long. Thanks to apckrfan for the beta.
Warnings: sexual situations
Summary: Claire Bennet helps Edgar bring Lydia back to life.
Before Edgar throws the knife, Lydia watches his clear expression. The knife smacks into the wood so close that she can feel the whoosh of air caress the shell of her ear. His bright eyes capture hers, and she smiles at the scowl on his face. Reluctantly, he smiles back, but his shoulders are still tense, and even though the audience applauds them, Lydia feels like they are the only ones in the whole world, playing and teasing one another.
It’s always like this during a show. Perhaps this is why they work so well together.
Lydia is comfortable with him. There’s hardly a mystery with Edgar. He lets her touch him; he lets her know everything. No secret is left beyond her grasp.
Lydia takes pride in this. Edgar would never dare trust anyone as much as he trusts her.
----
He finds Claire Bennet holed up in Samuel’s trailer after the shooting, and he dashes through the door with the intent to kill. Only, Edgar wonders if he really can kill the girl. He’s not stupid; he’s more than aware of her abilities.
Still, he wouldn’t mind giving the girl a good beating despite it all.
But he knows in his heart that it’s not Claire Bennet’s fault. The one who deserves the beating is Samuel, but he’s angry nonetheless.
He zips into the trailer and stops as Claire’s measured expression takes him in. She approaches him in desperation and regret. “Edgar, I’m sorry! I didn’t know... That wasn’t...My dad didn’t do this.”
He already knows this. He’s flashed around the carnival and seen the evidence. Samuel and Eli are the ones responsible for Lydia’s death.
There’s no hope, only the possibility to make allies, and maybe those allies could take Samuel down, and Edgar can get his revenge. He storms toward her, his fists clenched, and Claire steps back under his shadow. She doesn’t know his thoughts, or what to make of his anger.
She meets his eyes fiercely. “There may be a way to save her. I’ve seen it before, Edgar. It may not be too late.”
He watches as she holds out her forearm. “If you can find a syringe in time, you can take my blood. It heals people. My dad was shot in the face once, and it healed him after he was dead for a short time.”
Edgar furrows his brow in confusion. He doesn’t know if he can believe her. Her tone is desperate. Is this her bargaining chip so he won’t take revenge on her dad?
Like he would anyway.
But he’s willing to believe anything right now, even if Claire’s blood can heal his Lydia.
He doesn’t say a word; instead, he acts, searching the carnival for the syringe she wants. He finds one, and as soon as he’s left, he’s jamming the needle in her arm and drawing her blood. Claire winces, but she isn’t bothered by the pain. She only nods to him, and he feels confidence rolling off her.
Maybe this will work.
---
Edgar doesn’t mind a hard day’s work, as long as the days end like this, with his arms wrapped around Lydia’s svelte body. She feels as warm as the summer air against his skin, and some days, he doesn’t even want to get out of bed. He is almost afraid of being this close to someone, to be in love this much.
“What you thinking?” she asks, playing with the buttons of his open shirt. Evening has fallen, and the entire carnival rests on their day off from the regular shows. Tomorrow they’ll have to start up again, moving from city to different city.
“About you, love,” he says. He kisses the top of her head. “About how perfect this is.”
She stretches over him in the bed, straddling him as she wraps her arms around his neck. Edgar is aware on how little clothing she wears, and he supposes he’ll never get used to it. He doesn’t mind it, though, as long as she’s like this with him. He idly traces his fingers over the ink patterns of her skin.
Her hands slide through his hair, over his neck and down his back. He feels her power tug at his senses. Edgar watches as a picture forms on her arm. It’s someone he doesn’t even recognize, with dark brown eyebrows and a poorly shaved face. “Who is that?”
Lydia’s brow furrows. “I don’t know,” she says. “I have a feeling we’ll find out soon.”
She presses against him, drawing his lips into hers. “Let’s not worry about that now. It’s our day off.”
Edgar lifts her up, twirling her onto her back while Lydia screeches in surprise. She laughs as he trails kisses down her jaw and neck. “Yes, it is,” he says, sucking on the pulse point of her neck. She’s already lightly pulling away his clothes. He leaves hers as they are. Somewhere within Lydia’s outfits, he can always find simple access to her, from under the loose sleeves of her shirt, to below the billows of her skit. His hands find her breasts, squeezing the curves. She moans in his mouth as his other hand searches out the warmth between her legs. She arches against him as he dips a finger inside.
“Edgar,” she sighs against his lips.
“I’m sorry,” he says, and she chuckles against his mouth.
“For what?” she whispers.
“I’m ready...” he says, and she inhales deeply as he draws up her skirt and slides inside her. She wraps her legs around him, drawing him close, already matching his rhythm as he pushes deeper within. Warm and gentle, he tries not to go too fast, but it’s difficult; she consumes him, and her power is unbridled, feeling and tasting the darkest parts of him, soothing him like a summer storm. His powers are tempered and lulled, and instead he concentrates on feeling her, tasting the salt and wind on her body and nuzzling the ink stories over her skin.
She moans again in his air, and he can feel his peak rising. She shudders around him, tightening her thighs, and he lets a little power slip, speeding up his hips - though no more than necessary for her safety. She cries loudly - he’s sure the others can hear, but he doesn’t care. He grunts wildly, nuzzling in the crease of her shoulder, pounding hard as she slacks in his grasp.
Spilling inside her, he exhales a heavy breath before tenderly kissing her skin again, and shifting her body so he can wrap her in his arms. He whispers his love against her hair, and she snuggles like a perfect fit against his chest.
She runs her fingers lazily over his stomach, and she turns, meeting his eyes. “Sundays are my favorite days,” she says huskily, and Edgar chuckles.
“I dunno, Tuesdays can be quite fun too,” he says.
“What’s Tuesday?” she asks curiously, sitting up. He’s pulling the wet tresses of her hair out of her faces.
“Any other day I get to be with you,” he says. Her smile glows, bewitching him. She leans down and draws him into a deep kiss.
He watches her, his fingers still teasing through her hair. He tries not to think of the stranger that appeared on her skin, but Edgar can’t help himself.
He’s almost frightened. What will days be like if he didn’t have Lydia?
---
Stealing Lydia’s body almost kills him. Eli is snooping around, and getting past Samuel’s senses is even harder. Plus, holding Lydia’s lifeless body in his arms might as well throw a dagger into his heart.
Fortunately, Edgar manages to elude them, racing Lydia’s body out of the carnival to a far off place in the desert where he’s been hiding in since Samuel exiled him.
He has the syringe in his pocket, and though he doesn’t like it, he has doubts of this even working.
Edgar can’t stop the tears when he sets Lydia down on his bed. He pushes the hair out of her eyes, and he looks at her mortal wound with distress. Can he really bring someone back from the dead? This isn’t a fairytale or some story from the Bible. This is real life.
Though Lydia is an empath, and he’s a speedster, and Claire Bennet, well she can heal and never die. So can her blood heal others as well?
He cries when he jams the syringe into Lydia’s arm, pushing down as the blood flows through her. He sets it aside, and takes Lydia’s hand in his, like a prayer, and he calls out to any gods that will listen to him.
“Please...” he begs. Lydia is all the family he has left.
Minutes go by that feel like an eternity, and each passing second is another shadow on his doubt. Edgar closes his eyes tightly and kisses her hands. Even if this doesn’t work, he still has Lydia’s body. He can still give her a proper burial.
When he starts to think of where to bury her, her hands grip his in return, and she startles him. He jumps backward as she sits up and lets out a hoarse gasp, coughing on the blood that is dead from her system. She looks around, terrified, as if she’s reliving the last moments of her death. Edgar runs to her side, pulling her into an embrace. Still bewildered, Lydia turns to him weakly, and opens her mouth to speak. She can barely find the words, or the strength to form a thought.
As she looks into his eyes, Edgar can see her coming back to him.
“Edgar!” she exclaims, and her gaze sweeps around his meager surroundings, the cozy little ranch house in the Nevada desert. “What...Where am I? How did I?” She looks down at her bloodstained dress. “I...I died.”
Edgar sobs against her. “Yes, love.”
“Is this heaven?” she asks, and he shakes his head against her. He can barely come up from his embrace as he burrows his head against her hair.
“No, you were saved. Claire Bennet...she saved you,” he says.
Lydia nods lightly, still trying to cope with her situation and new surroundings.
“So she can do that too,” Lydia says idly. Edgar laughs within his sobs. Joy and relief consume him, and he cannot let her go. She melts into his touch.
“Yes, thank God, yes,” he says.
The sun sets when Edgar finally lets Lydia go. She insists on cleaning up, wearing a new dress, and foolishly, going back to the carnival.
“Hell no, Lydia.” Edgar insists, “They don’t know I saved you, and just because you’re alive doesn’t mean I’m not going to kill Samuel for what he did.”
“What will you do?” she asks.
“I’m going to find a way to stop Samuel, once and for all. Even if that means teaming up with Noah Bennet, I’ll stop him!”
“Then what? What about our home, Edgar? The carnival has always been our home,” she asks, and he notices she’s still worried about the rest of their family. Edgar loves that about her; it’s what will make her an excellent leader if she ever gets the chance. Though, with Samuel out of the way, the others might scatter, but Edgar believes Lydia has the power to bring them back.
“One step at a time, Lydia,” Edgar says. “We have to save everyone from Samuel first, and I intend to do this. Everyone should see him for what he truly is.”
“I wish I can come with you,” she says in frustration. Edgar leans down and grabs her biceps, meeting her eyes.
“You have a more important role later, Lydia,” Edgar says, and he lurches forward and kisses her. “Lay low for now, and I’ll be back. He’s doing his big show in New York tonight, and I’m going to stop him.”
“You can’t do this all by yourself,” she says.
Edgar stands up and smirks at her. “I won’t.” He gives her another sated look before taking off. “I love you.” Then he zips away. Lydia returns his love through the wind.
---
The remnants of the carnival scatter, and when news of Samuel’s incarceration hits everyone, people begin to look for new homes. Edgar thanks Noah and the people who helped him, and he returns to Lydia at his ranch. She’s watching his rickety tube TV when he gets back. Claire Bennet’s risky display has already hit the news.
“Well, Samuel got what he wanted anyway. The whole world knows about us,” she says, and Edgar pours her lemonade and sits next to her on the couch. She rests hers head against his shoulder, and they lose themselves in their thoughts.
“Is it such a bad thing?” Edgar wonders aloud, and Lydia sighs next to him.
“It could be,” she says. “But it’s still a relief. And nobody got hurt Claire’s way.”
“People are going to need you more than ever, Lydia,” he says, turning to her. He loves looking into her eyes, even at the most serious of times.
She nods as she looks away, staring beyond him. “I know. We need to bring people up again. We can start again, Edgar.” Lydia looks determined, and Edgar is glad to see her fire back.
“I’ll put the word out that you’re alive,” he says, and she wraps her arms around him.
“I’m coming with you this time,” she says, and Edgar knows he can’t say no to her. He pulls her into a soft embrace and switches off the news. Lydia sinks next to him, and he’s thankful for moments like this.
“I’m glad I didn’t lose you, love,” he says, and she murmurs “me too” against him. Twilight settles outside, and Edgar secures Lydia in his arms. Slumber weighs over their eyes, and they dream together, knowing the next morning will spur a lot of work for them, with a promising new beginning.
END