Fic: I Remember
An attempt at a Heroes fic. Just a short thing I whipped up after 'Fallout', but I wanted to post it anyway. :)
Title: I Remember
Rating: PG-13 for swearing
Characters: Claire. Mentions of Peter. (But dudes, it's not shippy! For the first time ever!)
Spoilers: Up to 1x11, 'Fallout'
Summary: Claire's dad had always been her hero.
Author's note: Thanks to liljames for giving me a great last minute beta. You're as wonderful as always, James. :)
When she was seven, Claire fell and broke her ankle. It swelled up until it was the size of her knee, red and throbbing, and she couldn’t stop crying for hours.
Her mother was too busy at a dog show to help, and her friends cried ‘eww’ and scurried away, but Dad, her wonderful Dad, made up for it all. He took her to the emergency room and played tic-tac-toe with her, over and over, until she got into x-ray. He held her hand as they put on the cast, and bought her the biggest bar of chocolate she had ever seen for being brave once they were done.
And then he promised that he would never let her get hurt again.
‘Whatever happened to that?’ she thought, as she watched him come in through the door. She followed her routine, running up and smiling, kissing him on the cheek as though he was still her perfect father. The man who would never let her down.
She deserved a medal, a fucking Oscar, for the performance she gave. She chattered about Homecoming like it was the most important thing in the world, smiling in a way that she knew was adorably shallow. She followed him into the sitting room and started talking about baking. Would he like brownies best? Should she make chocolate? How had his day at work been, anyway? Was there anything good on TV tonight?
He smiled and answered her chatter, but there was something in his eyes that wasn’t quite right. At first, it was searching, as though he was analysing every little gesture, and then… satisfaction. She had passed the test.
“So honey, did anything exciting happen today?” he asked, a polite smile on his face.
“Nope,” she said, the smile still painted on her face. “Nothing at all.”
When she finally got back to the safety of her room, she felt ready to be sick. He had been pleased. As far as he was aware, she had lost her whole identity beyond the a popular cheerleader, and he liked it that way. He had made it that way.
Before she realised what she was doing, she had pulled a bag onto her bed and begun piling in clothes. For a moment, she felt like the stereotypical teenager, running away from her problems, but this was beyond the range of a stereotypical teenager. A girl had died because of her, and her own father had tried to hide the reason. She was different. The normal rules didn’t apply.
What had Peter said, about saving the world? He had been so earnest, so dedicated, determined to use his power for good. Maybe he was right. Maybe this meant something. She wasn’t just a freak who could die and come back to life. She could make a difference.
The man had told her that she couldn’t be allowed to forget, and Claire knew that she wasn’t a good actress. She could pull off one conversation of smiles and lies, but she hadn’t even been given a role in the latest school play. How could she possibly succeed in a part as difficult and as permanent as this? She would slip up. Feel guilt over Jackie or mention Peter or heal in front of him without batting an eyelid. She would make a mistake, and then everything would be over. Peter would have risked his life for nothing. He would have saved her for nothing.
She zipped up the bag and tossed it over her shoulder, and then considered what was going to do. Using her power to help suddenly seemed far too ridiculous a game plan. How could she make a difference if she didn’t even know where to go for the night?
Her father had always been her hero. It wasn’t something she had ever expected to change. Then his idea of protecting her had become stealing her memories.
Peter’s idea of protecting her was jumping off a building with her attacker in hand. Her dad stole her memories, and Peter risked his life. ‘Hero’ suddenly had a whole new meaning.
They could work together. Save the world, whatever that would mean, and he could tell her all about himself. Maybe something about herself too. All the things he was about to say, before her dad interrupted. He seemed to know a lot more than she did. Maybe there were others. Maybe they all worked together to help people, and she could be a part of that.
Either way, she was done pretending. Picking up a pad of paper, she scribbled a note to explain everything.
‘I remember.’
Title: I Remember
Rating: PG-13 for swearing
Characters: Claire. Mentions of Peter. (But dudes, it's not shippy! For the first time ever!)
Spoilers: Up to 1x11, 'Fallout'
Summary: Claire's dad had always been her hero.
Author's note: Thanks to liljames for giving me a great last minute beta. You're as wonderful as always, James. :)
When she was seven, Claire fell and broke her ankle. It swelled up until it was the size of her knee, red and throbbing, and she couldn’t stop crying for hours.
Her mother was too busy at a dog show to help, and her friends cried ‘eww’ and scurried away, but Dad, her wonderful Dad, made up for it all. He took her to the emergency room and played tic-tac-toe with her, over and over, until she got into x-ray. He held her hand as they put on the cast, and bought her the biggest bar of chocolate she had ever seen for being brave once they were done.
And then he promised that he would never let her get hurt again.
‘Whatever happened to that?’ she thought, as she watched him come in through the door. She followed her routine, running up and smiling, kissing him on the cheek as though he was still her perfect father. The man who would never let her down.
She deserved a medal, a fucking Oscar, for the performance she gave. She chattered about Homecoming like it was the most important thing in the world, smiling in a way that she knew was adorably shallow. She followed him into the sitting room and started talking about baking. Would he like brownies best? Should she make chocolate? How had his day at work been, anyway? Was there anything good on TV tonight?
He smiled and answered her chatter, but there was something in his eyes that wasn’t quite right. At first, it was searching, as though he was analysing every little gesture, and then… satisfaction. She had passed the test.
“So honey, did anything exciting happen today?” he asked, a polite smile on his face.
“Nope,” she said, the smile still painted on her face. “Nothing at all.”
When she finally got back to the safety of her room, she felt ready to be sick. He had been pleased. As far as he was aware, she had lost her whole identity beyond the a popular cheerleader, and he liked it that way. He had made it that way.
Before she realised what she was doing, she had pulled a bag onto her bed and begun piling in clothes. For a moment, she felt like the stereotypical teenager, running away from her problems, but this was beyond the range of a stereotypical teenager. A girl had died because of her, and her own father had tried to hide the reason. She was different. The normal rules didn’t apply.
What had Peter said, about saving the world? He had been so earnest, so dedicated, determined to use his power for good. Maybe he was right. Maybe this meant something. She wasn’t just a freak who could die and come back to life. She could make a difference.
The man had told her that she couldn’t be allowed to forget, and Claire knew that she wasn’t a good actress. She could pull off one conversation of smiles and lies, but she hadn’t even been given a role in the latest school play. How could she possibly succeed in a part as difficult and as permanent as this? She would slip up. Feel guilt over Jackie or mention Peter or heal in front of him without batting an eyelid. She would make a mistake, and then everything would be over. Peter would have risked his life for nothing. He would have saved her for nothing.
She zipped up the bag and tossed it over her shoulder, and then considered what was going to do. Using her power to help suddenly seemed far too ridiculous a game plan. How could she make a difference if she didn’t even know where to go for the night?
Her father had always been her hero. It wasn’t something she had ever expected to change. Then his idea of protecting her had become stealing her memories.
Peter’s idea of protecting her was jumping off a building with her attacker in hand. Her dad stole her memories, and Peter risked his life. ‘Hero’ suddenly had a whole new meaning.
They could work together. Save the world, whatever that would mean, and he could tell her all about himself. Maybe something about herself too. All the things he was about to say, before her dad interrupted. He seemed to know a lot more than she did. Maybe there were others. Maybe they all worked together to help people, and she could be a part of that.
Either way, she was done pretending. Picking up a pad of paper, she scribbled a note to explain everything.
‘I remember.’