Fic: Falling
I seem to be quite a prolific Heroes writer right now. :P I'm currently planning a multi-chapter thing, but this little scene came to me while I was plotting that and refused to go away until I wrote it. :)
Title: Falling
Rating: PG
Characters: Peter/Claire
Spoilers: Very vague ones up to The Fix
Summary: 'If she just leant forwards a little more, she would tumble, head first, over and over and down and down.'
Author's note: Need I say it? Thank you to the wonderful James, for betaing, for putting up with my complaining, for poking me to listen to Something Corporate as I listened to Konstantine over and over while writing this (don't ask me why, though, James)... couldn't do it without you, James!
Claire stood on the rooftop and watched the world go by.
How different from home this was. New York seemed to seep into the air itself, making it quiver and hum. Below her, thousands of people were rushing through their lives, and a symphony of shouts and car horns drifted upwards in their wake. The world was a flurry of colour and lights, and Claire had never felt more alone.
She shivered. She was still wearing her ridiculous cheerleader’s outfit, the one she had been wearing when she’d finally run. She had fled to a hero, to a name and a face, but she’d ended with a mission and a newfound fear. Somehow her escape plan had led her to another prison, just as lonely as the first. Her safety was paramount, they said, and so she was kept inside, out of sight. Peter was kind to her, of course, insisting that she took the bed and bringing back unhealthy food and TV guides (all the things a sixteen year old girl needed), but the others treated her as an object, as a mission. She was just a puzzle piece, a means to an end. They were all out searching, helping, planning, and she was stuck inside watching reruns of Friends and wondering why her New York experience couldn’t be like that instead.
And so she stood on the roof, dragging in breaths of sharp, cold air and feeling her bare legs turn numb from the chill. She had never felt cold like this in Texas - another first to add to the list for this year - and she decided that she liked it. It pinched and stung, inside and out, but it made her feel terribly, undeniably alive.
“Claire?”
Peter had found her. She kept looking forwards, leaning over the edge of the building as though she could somehow absorb the energy pulsing below. Peter was a good man, a good friend, but even he said ‘save the cheerleader, save the world’ like it meant something, and she knew his concern wasn’t for her.
At her silence, he moved closer. “I was worried about you.”
She shrugged. “I just came up for some air.”
“It isn’t safe, Claire. Sylar - ’
She grimaced at the now too-familiar name, but she blocked out the rest of his words. He was completely overreacting. The chances of Sylar finding her standing on a rooftop, isolated from the rest of the world, were rather slim. In hiding from him, she had become invisible. She was nothing, and you couldn’t be hurt if you didn’t exist.
“I could jump,” she said casually, and as she spoke the words, she realised that they were true. If she just leant forwards a little more, she could tumble, head first, over and over and down and down.
“Claire…”
“It wouldn’t kill me,” she continued, feeling a sort of detached interest in the idea. “It probably wouldn’t even hurt. It would - it’d be like flying.”
He moved forwards then, placing a hand on her shoulder and gently moving her away from the edge.
“You can’t,” he said, and she was surprised by the understanding in his voice. “I get that you want to test your powers, but this isn’t the way to do it.” She opened her mouth to protest, to tell him that he didn’t understand, that this wasn’t about that at all, but he interrupted her before she could even begin. “You jump down into the street and walk away without a scratch, people are going to start talking. If that happens, they’ll find us in an instant.”
Her mind rushed through all the faces that were hunting them - Sylar, Linderman, her own father, not to mention the police - and she let out a shudder.
“It’s not us they’re looking for, though, is it?” she said quietly. “It’s me.” When he didn’t respond, she stepped away, turning to look out over the city again. “I’m the one you have to hide away. You’re all out there, helping, and I’m locked up inside.”
“We have to keep you safe,” he said.
“You have to keep everyone safe,” she said, before she could stop herself. “I’m just a means to an end.”
He stared at her for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he stepped towards her and gently cupped her cheek with his hand.
“No,” he said firmly. “I have to keep you safe.”
She sighed, watching him carefully. “I just feel so useless,” she admitted.
“You’re not,” he said. “You’re key to everything. ‘Save the cheerleader, save the world’, right? We just haven’t worked out what part you play yet.”
“Can’t I work out that part for myself?” she asked, feeling her frustration rise again. She ducked her head away from his hand, her eyes looking stubbornly into his. “I worked out my power by myself. I spent weeks convincing my dad that I remembered nothing about you or what happened at Homecoming. I found my birth parents, I came here, and until I knocked on your door, I was alone. But you’re all treating me like some dumb cheerleader who can’t take care of herself!”
“You’re not,” he said softly. “I don’t believe that for a second. That’s why I have to keep you safe.” He turned away from her, sighing deeply. “You’re smart, and brave, and... beautiful, and I hate to keep you locked away, but it would kill me to see you get hurt. And not you, the invincible cheerleader, but you, Claire.”
She shut her eyes, feeling guilt roll her stomach at her outburst. Peter had risked everything to protect her, and she was shouting at him, being about as ungrateful as it was possible to be. She felt his thumb brush the skin below her eye, wiping away the tear she hadn’t noticed fall, and she let out a shuddery breath.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “Thank you for everything.” She opened her eyes to see him watching her, inches away, and she smiled.
“Any time,” he said.
Claire felt something in the air shift. She moved closer, into those inches between, and waited. He rested his hand on her arm, the other settling in the small of her back, as though to pull her closer still, but then a strange look passed through his eyes, and he stepped quickly away.
“You’re turning blue,” he said suddenly.
“Cold.”
He shrugged off his jacket and placed it around her shoulders. “We should go inside,” he said.
“No. Not yet.” She walked back to the edge of the building, placing her hands firmly on the ledge as she looked over and down. “I want to see it.”
“See what?” he asked as he joined her at the edge.
“This. In a week, all this... if we fail... It’ll all be gone.”
“We won’t fail,” he said firmly.
“We might.” Her eyes followed the people below. “All these people could be dead in a week. That woman thinks that running every day will make her invincible, but it doesn’t mean anything. She could die pointlessly, without any warning, no chance for last words or ‘ten things to do before I die’. She’ll just be gone.”
“She won’t,” Peter said again. “We’re going to stop it. You can’t think like that, Claire.”
“How could I not?”
“Just - think about after. What’ll happen once we’ve saved the world.”
She sighed again, feeling that hopelessness gnaw at her bones. “There is no ‘after’, Peter. Even if we do save the world, what am I supposed to do? Go home, so my dad can make me forget? Wave pompoms and do homework and apply to colleges like it all means something?” She shook her head. “I can’t. This is all I have now.”
He was silent for a moment. “It’s enough,” he said quietly.
“Yeah,” she said, and the word seemed to ignite something within her. “It’s enough.”
Tentatively, she reached out and clasped his hand. His fingers interlaced with hers, and she held on tightly, as though he was the only thing stopping her from falling. He squeezed her hand in reassurance, and she smiled as she stood and watched the world go by.
Title: Falling
Rating: PG
Characters: Peter/Claire
Spoilers: Very vague ones up to The Fix
Summary: 'If she just leant forwards a little more, she would tumble, head first, over and over and down and down.'
Author's note: Need I say it? Thank you to the wonderful James, for betaing, for putting up with my complaining, for poking me to listen to Something Corporate as I listened to Konstantine over and over while writing this (don't ask me why, though, James)... couldn't do it without you, James!
Claire stood on the rooftop and watched the world go by.
How different from home this was. New York seemed to seep into the air itself, making it quiver and hum. Below her, thousands of people were rushing through their lives, and a symphony of shouts and car horns drifted upwards in their wake. The world was a flurry of colour and lights, and Claire had never felt more alone.
She shivered. She was still wearing her ridiculous cheerleader’s outfit, the one she had been wearing when she’d finally run. She had fled to a hero, to a name and a face, but she’d ended with a mission and a newfound fear. Somehow her escape plan had led her to another prison, just as lonely as the first. Her safety was paramount, they said, and so she was kept inside, out of sight. Peter was kind to her, of course, insisting that she took the bed and bringing back unhealthy food and TV guides (all the things a sixteen year old girl needed), but the others treated her as an object, as a mission. She was just a puzzle piece, a means to an end. They were all out searching, helping, planning, and she was stuck inside watching reruns of Friends and wondering why her New York experience couldn’t be like that instead.
And so she stood on the roof, dragging in breaths of sharp, cold air and feeling her bare legs turn numb from the chill. She had never felt cold like this in Texas - another first to add to the list for this year - and she decided that she liked it. It pinched and stung, inside and out, but it made her feel terribly, undeniably alive.
“Claire?”
Peter had found her. She kept looking forwards, leaning over the edge of the building as though she could somehow absorb the energy pulsing below. Peter was a good man, a good friend, but even he said ‘save the cheerleader, save the world’ like it meant something, and she knew his concern wasn’t for her.
At her silence, he moved closer. “I was worried about you.”
She shrugged. “I just came up for some air.”
“It isn’t safe, Claire. Sylar - ’
She grimaced at the now too-familiar name, but she blocked out the rest of his words. He was completely overreacting. The chances of Sylar finding her standing on a rooftop, isolated from the rest of the world, were rather slim. In hiding from him, she had become invisible. She was nothing, and you couldn’t be hurt if you didn’t exist.
“I could jump,” she said casually, and as she spoke the words, she realised that they were true. If she just leant forwards a little more, she could tumble, head first, over and over and down and down.
“Claire…”
“It wouldn’t kill me,” she continued, feeling a sort of detached interest in the idea. “It probably wouldn’t even hurt. It would - it’d be like flying.”
He moved forwards then, placing a hand on her shoulder and gently moving her away from the edge.
“You can’t,” he said, and she was surprised by the understanding in his voice. “I get that you want to test your powers, but this isn’t the way to do it.” She opened her mouth to protest, to tell him that he didn’t understand, that this wasn’t about that at all, but he interrupted her before she could even begin. “You jump down into the street and walk away without a scratch, people are going to start talking. If that happens, they’ll find us in an instant.”
Her mind rushed through all the faces that were hunting them - Sylar, Linderman, her own father, not to mention the police - and she let out a shudder.
“It’s not us they’re looking for, though, is it?” she said quietly. “It’s me.” When he didn’t respond, she stepped away, turning to look out over the city again. “I’m the one you have to hide away. You’re all out there, helping, and I’m locked up inside.”
“We have to keep you safe,” he said.
“You have to keep everyone safe,” she said, before she could stop herself. “I’m just a means to an end.”
He stared at her for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he stepped towards her and gently cupped her cheek with his hand.
“No,” he said firmly. “I have to keep you safe.”
She sighed, watching him carefully. “I just feel so useless,” she admitted.
“You’re not,” he said. “You’re key to everything. ‘Save the cheerleader, save the world’, right? We just haven’t worked out what part you play yet.”
“Can’t I work out that part for myself?” she asked, feeling her frustration rise again. She ducked her head away from his hand, her eyes looking stubbornly into his. “I worked out my power by myself. I spent weeks convincing my dad that I remembered nothing about you or what happened at Homecoming. I found my birth parents, I came here, and until I knocked on your door, I was alone. But you’re all treating me like some dumb cheerleader who can’t take care of herself!”
“You’re not,” he said softly. “I don’t believe that for a second. That’s why I have to keep you safe.” He turned away from her, sighing deeply. “You’re smart, and brave, and... beautiful, and I hate to keep you locked away, but it would kill me to see you get hurt. And not you, the invincible cheerleader, but you, Claire.”
She shut her eyes, feeling guilt roll her stomach at her outburst. Peter had risked everything to protect her, and she was shouting at him, being about as ungrateful as it was possible to be. She felt his thumb brush the skin below her eye, wiping away the tear she hadn’t noticed fall, and she let out a shuddery breath.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “Thank you for everything.” She opened her eyes to see him watching her, inches away, and she smiled.
“Any time,” he said.
Claire felt something in the air shift. She moved closer, into those inches between, and waited. He rested his hand on her arm, the other settling in the small of her back, as though to pull her closer still, but then a strange look passed through his eyes, and he stepped quickly away.
“You’re turning blue,” he said suddenly.
“Cold.”
He shrugged off his jacket and placed it around her shoulders. “We should go inside,” he said.
“No. Not yet.” She walked back to the edge of the building, placing her hands firmly on the ledge as she looked over and down. “I want to see it.”
“See what?” he asked as he joined her at the edge.
“This. In a week, all this... if we fail... It’ll all be gone.”
“We won’t fail,” he said firmly.
“We might.” Her eyes followed the people below. “All these people could be dead in a week. That woman thinks that running every day will make her invincible, but it doesn’t mean anything. She could die pointlessly, without any warning, no chance for last words or ‘ten things to do before I die’. She’ll just be gone.”
“She won’t,” Peter said again. “We’re going to stop it. You can’t think like that, Claire.”
“How could I not?”
“Just - think about after. What’ll happen once we’ve saved the world.”
She sighed again, feeling that hopelessness gnaw at her bones. “There is no ‘after’, Peter. Even if we do save the world, what am I supposed to do? Go home, so my dad can make me forget? Wave pompoms and do homework and apply to colleges like it all means something?” She shook her head. “I can’t. This is all I have now.”
He was silent for a moment. “It’s enough,” he said quietly.
“Yeah,” she said, and the word seemed to ignite something within her. “It’s enough.”
Tentatively, she reached out and clasped his hand. His fingers interlaced with hers, and she held on tightly, as though he was the only thing stopping her from falling. He squeezed her hand in reassurance, and she smiled as she stood and watched the world go by.