Heroes fic: Wide-Eyed Boy
Title: Wide-Eyed Boy
Characters: Peter/Simone
Word Count: 909
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: through 1.20, "Five Years Gone"
Summary: She reminds him of the person he used to be.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the words.
A/N: Originally written for miss_vacant's "A Love Less Ordinary" meme, back in early July. The prompt was from happywriter06: Peter/Simone and Peter going back in time to save her.
He knew it was a risk. He knew it without Hiro having to remind him constantly for those three restless days that Peter spent analyzing where and when would be best to see her again. He pored over the timeline strung across the loft, arms crossed over his chest, staring at the points where his and Isaac’s threads intertwined. The phone call. Peter finishing the painting. Gunshots.
“You’ll change everything,” Hiro warned him, his voice laced with anger. “If you do this, everything will be different.”
“That’s the idea,” Peter said.
Hiro’s hand grabbed his shoulder, spinning him around. “If she doesn’t die, then who will? Isaac? You? Do you understand the enormity of the rift you would cause?”
Peter did understand, and that was what had rooted him to this place for three days, tracing strings of colored yarn from easel to railing to wall. His gaze drifted to the window. “Anything is better than this.”
Hiro looked unconvinced, his eyes tight. “You have no idea what the consequences would be.”
He considered Hiro with a heavy sigh. Somewhere in the pit of his stomach, Peter knew that whatever plan Hiro had been pulling together from these threads was better than anything Peter intended on doing now. But when Peter closed his eyes and saw her face in the front of his mind, logic became a blurry thing.
---
She was innocence. She was the bridge between the young, green Peter who dreamed for something more and the older, colder Peter who died and killed and lost his way at the same time that he found it. Before explosions and scars, before saving the world turned into staving off the inevitable, Peter had fallen in love with the pretty girl at work, the one who loosed gentle smiles on him when she thought he wasn’t looking and who kissed him under an umbrella in the rain. She was the last link Peter had to a different life.
When he glimpsed her face again for the first time, he didn’t know if the terrible ache he felt in his chest was for this woman, soft and angelic in the sunlight, or for that wide-eyed boy Peter had buried within himself so many years ago.
---
He took her to his old apartment. When they reached the door, he realized he didn’t have a key and laughed, then closed his hand over hers and phased them both through the wall. This, at least, ceased her questions for a while; face stretched in disbelief, she didn’t say another word until they had descended upon the bed, Peter gently unbuttoning her blouse while she curled her fingers under his shirt.
“How long into the future?” she asked. He could tell that she was still hesitant, still confused, her hands beneath the fabric of his shirt and against his skin but unmoving.
“Five years.”
One hand lifted out and rose to his cheek. “And where did you get this?” she said, trailing her finger across the scar.
He took her hand and pressed it more closely to his skin, closing his eyes. “Does it matter?”
“Yes.”
He looked at her hard. “Alright.”
He started with the explosion, relaying everything he could remember about the last five years-the scar, his brother, the people he had saved and those he killed. He told her about Hiro’s plan to find a moment in the past that would shift the timeline just enough to change things for the better. He told her how he didn’t recognize himself anymore.
“I thought seeing you again would make things different,” he said. “That maybe you could bring me back to myself.”
She cupped his face in her hands, sadness in her eyes. “Oh, Peter,” she said, kissing him, and when she pulled away her cheeks were wet with tears. “What’s happened to you?”
He leaned forward to kiss her again, and her mouth opened to his, fingers tightening over his scalp. Her hand traveled through his hair, clenching and releasing in rhythm as their bodies tangled together, and Peter felt the strands falling over his eyes like they once did for a wide-eyed boy in love with a pretty girl.
---
“Simone,” Peter said, turning to the woman beside him, the covers splayed over her still form. She was sleeping soundly, one arm bent above her head across the pillow, her lips slightly parted. He watched her chest rise and fall for a long moment before rolling over onto his back, staring at the ceiling.
“Don’t go to Isaac’s apartment tonight,” he said. “Fuck the consequences, fuck Hiro’s plan. Let me be selfish this one time.”
She didn’t hear him, and he knew it.
---
The memory had not changed. She went to Isaac’s loft, key in hand. When she opened the door, Isaac fired the gun. Peter caught her in his arms, sinking to the floor with her, shaking as she looked at him with an expression that at the time he did not understand. It would be years before Peter would realize how much Simone knew when she gazed at him then.
“Playing with life and death is a dangerous game,” Hiro said as he paced along the path of Peter’s string. “We have to be careful. You did the right thing.”
Peter stared at the knot where his and Isaac’s threads met for the final time. “Yeah,” he said distantly, and looked away. “The right thing.”
Characters: Peter/Simone
Word Count: 909
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: through 1.20, "Five Years Gone"
Summary: She reminds him of the person he used to be.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the words.
A/N: Originally written for miss_vacant's "A Love Less Ordinary" meme, back in early July. The prompt was from happywriter06: Peter/Simone and Peter going back in time to save her.
He knew it was a risk. He knew it without Hiro having to remind him constantly for those three restless days that Peter spent analyzing where and when would be best to see her again. He pored over the timeline strung across the loft, arms crossed over his chest, staring at the points where his and Isaac’s threads intertwined. The phone call. Peter finishing the painting. Gunshots.
“You’ll change everything,” Hiro warned him, his voice laced with anger. “If you do this, everything will be different.”
“That’s the idea,” Peter said.
Hiro’s hand grabbed his shoulder, spinning him around. “If she doesn’t die, then who will? Isaac? You? Do you understand the enormity of the rift you would cause?”
Peter did understand, and that was what had rooted him to this place for three days, tracing strings of colored yarn from easel to railing to wall. His gaze drifted to the window. “Anything is better than this.”
Hiro looked unconvinced, his eyes tight. “You have no idea what the consequences would be.”
He considered Hiro with a heavy sigh. Somewhere in the pit of his stomach, Peter knew that whatever plan Hiro had been pulling together from these threads was better than anything Peter intended on doing now. But when Peter closed his eyes and saw her face in the front of his mind, logic became a blurry thing.
---
She was innocence. She was the bridge between the young, green Peter who dreamed for something more and the older, colder Peter who died and killed and lost his way at the same time that he found it. Before explosions and scars, before saving the world turned into staving off the inevitable, Peter had fallen in love with the pretty girl at work, the one who loosed gentle smiles on him when she thought he wasn’t looking and who kissed him under an umbrella in the rain. She was the last link Peter had to a different life.
When he glimpsed her face again for the first time, he didn’t know if the terrible ache he felt in his chest was for this woman, soft and angelic in the sunlight, or for that wide-eyed boy Peter had buried within himself so many years ago.
---
He took her to his old apartment. When they reached the door, he realized he didn’t have a key and laughed, then closed his hand over hers and phased them both through the wall. This, at least, ceased her questions for a while; face stretched in disbelief, she didn’t say another word until they had descended upon the bed, Peter gently unbuttoning her blouse while she curled her fingers under his shirt.
“How long into the future?” she asked. He could tell that she was still hesitant, still confused, her hands beneath the fabric of his shirt and against his skin but unmoving.
“Five years.”
One hand lifted out and rose to his cheek. “And where did you get this?” she said, trailing her finger across the scar.
He took her hand and pressed it more closely to his skin, closing his eyes. “Does it matter?”
“Yes.”
He looked at her hard. “Alright.”
He started with the explosion, relaying everything he could remember about the last five years-the scar, his brother, the people he had saved and those he killed. He told her about Hiro’s plan to find a moment in the past that would shift the timeline just enough to change things for the better. He told her how he didn’t recognize himself anymore.
“I thought seeing you again would make things different,” he said. “That maybe you could bring me back to myself.”
She cupped his face in her hands, sadness in her eyes. “Oh, Peter,” she said, kissing him, and when she pulled away her cheeks were wet with tears. “What’s happened to you?”
He leaned forward to kiss her again, and her mouth opened to his, fingers tightening over his scalp. Her hand traveled through his hair, clenching and releasing in rhythm as their bodies tangled together, and Peter felt the strands falling over his eyes like they once did for a wide-eyed boy in love with a pretty girl.
---
“Simone,” Peter said, turning to the woman beside him, the covers splayed over her still form. She was sleeping soundly, one arm bent above her head across the pillow, her lips slightly parted. He watched her chest rise and fall for a long moment before rolling over onto his back, staring at the ceiling.
“Don’t go to Isaac’s apartment tonight,” he said. “Fuck the consequences, fuck Hiro’s plan. Let me be selfish this one time.”
She didn’t hear him, and he knew it.
---
The memory had not changed. She went to Isaac’s loft, key in hand. When she opened the door, Isaac fired the gun. Peter caught her in his arms, sinking to the floor with her, shaking as she looked at him with an expression that at the time he did not understand. It would be years before Peter would realize how much Simone knew when she gazed at him then.
“Playing with life and death is a dangerous game,” Hiro said as he paced along the path of Peter’s string. “We have to be careful. You did the right thing.”
Peter stared at the knot where his and Isaac’s threads met for the final time. “Yeah,” he said distantly, and looked away. “The right thing.”