(the dust of ages) chapter seven: another lifetime
Title: The Dust of Ages
Author: missaliceblue
Pairing: Peter/Claire. Written for eowyn_girl.
Rating: R for themes, language, some adult situations. But mostly themes.
Status: 7/15. I’ve written the whole thing already, and will try to update daily.
Summary: Peter and Claire were both caught up in this crazy, never-ending circle a long time ago. The real question was, if they could change how things turned out, would they?
Previous chapters here.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
------------------------
“Listen. Just listen. I’m going to try and explain it to you the way he told me to.”
Claire thought back carefully, and was trying to select which bits and pieces she could give him, what would be the best to tell him.
He was petrified, looked like he was going to hyperventilate as he stood rigidly against the front door of her apartment.
She certainly couldn’t tell him the truth - he wasn’t ready to hear it and, what’s more, it would take too long.
There was an awful lot of truth…
-----
Claire had just gotten out of the shower. It had been extra steamy, the way she liked it. She had taken all the hot water, but her parents were out and it was just Lyle and her and who cared about Lyle anyway?
Her skin was flushed pink and she tied herself into her warm terrycloth robe. It was old and definitely too ‘kiddie’ for a sixteen year old to wear, but she liked it.
She walked quickly to her room and locked the door, so there wouldn’t be any annoying interruptions from Lyle. She turned her stereo on, loud, and hummed along.
She squeezed a dab of lotion from the pump on her dresser and sat on her bed while she massaged it into her face. She rubbed her wet head hard with her towel, and flipped back her hair.
And then she screamed. At the top of her lungs. Standing in her room was a boy. No, a man. He was not very tall but he still looked like a man. An old man! With scruff on his face! Claire jumped onto her bed with a yelp.
“Shh, Claire, it’s okay!” His hands were raised in front of him in a non-threatening manner.
Claire stood on her bed and grabbed the nearest thing-that-could-be-used-as-a-weapon. She pointed her tumbling trophy in away from her body. “Don’t touch me! I’ll kill you!”
Of course he didn't seem scared. In fact it seemed like he was trying not to laugh.
“It’s okay, Claire, really, I am not going to hurt you, I swear. I know you really well in the future. I’m special, like you are,” said the man, the old man.
“Shut up,” she said shakily, hoping she came across meaner than she sounded to her own ears. “How do you know my name? How’d you get in here?”
“I…listen. That doesn’t matter,” he said. “I’ll tell you in a minute, okay?”
“Tell me now,” she said, bargaining for time. She was going to have to scream louder. It was her damned stereo that was keeping the whole neighborhood from hearing her.
The man shook his head. “Hmm,” he said, and reached into his pocket. “This’ll be faster.”
And then he pulled out a knife.
She burst into tears.
“Claire! Jesus,” said the man, and he started toward her, which only made her cry more.
True it was a small knife…it was one of those little Swiss Army Knifes. But those could still kill someone. Claire screamed again. Where the hell was Lyle when it would do some good?
“Lyle! There’s an old man in my room and he’s got a knife!”
“Old man?”
“Shut up I said!” Claire shook her trophy at him.
The old man flicked open the blade of his knife. Oh no. No no no. She held onto the trophy like a baseball bat, ready to beat him to death when he came at her.
“Look, don’t cry and don’t scream, okay? Just watch.”
And then the man stuck the blade into his arm, and pulled down vehemently.
She couldn’t help it, she yelled again, that there was some crazy psycho old man in her room and he was cutting himself.
The man pulled the knife out of his arm, and Claire’s eyes widened as the wound knitted itself together.
Claire didn't say anything for what felt like hours. She just stared at the drops of blood dripping off of his arm. At the smooth skin that appeared underneath the parted rivulets of red.
She felt a little lightheaded, and maybe…a little giddy. Like she wanted to smile, even though she knew she was still probably in danger but…she wasn’t afraid anymore.
“You’re like me,” she said softly.
She hopped off her bed and stood in front of the old man. Well, he wasn’t that old after all, maybe.
She touched the skin on his arm, where it had recently healed. It was smooth and warm.
And then she looked up at him. He was smirking at her. In a nice way.
“I thought it was just me…and now there’s you,” she said. She smiled at him with what felt like every bone in her body.
-----
She liked him, and after he stuck his knife into his arm, she wasn’t afraid of him anymore. It didn't bug her when he would come visit.
Actually, it was kinda cool.
He knew she was going to be a cheerleader this year. He knew she didn't like bananas, and that she couldn’t fall asleep unless the door to her closet was closed.
He knew about her dad, her mom, her brother, and he knew a lot more too. Stuff he wouldn’t tell her when she asked. She could see it in his eyes.
“How do I know you in the future?”
“We’re just friends,” he said firmly.
“Duh,” she said, and gave him a Look.
“Sorry. You know what I mean.”
“What’s your name?” she asked. It was an innocent question, she thought. Especially since this was the second time he’d come to visit her. She’d turn around, and he’d be there, standing against the door, usually.
“I can’t tell you,” he said apologetically.
“You know my name,” she said, like that would make any sort of difference. It really pissed her off sometimes. He knew everything about her, and she knew nothing about him.
He told her to be patient.
Claire was going to take A.P. Chemistry this year. He helped her with her summer assignment, and he was really, really good at it. So good that she wondered if he was a doctor or a scientist in his real life. Or something.
-----
She liked his visits, didn't realize that she’d grown to look forward to them so much until he didn't come for three nights in a row.
When he finally came, she voiced her only complaint.
“What am I supposed to call you? It feels weird being like, ‘Hey You,’ all the time,” said Claire as she doodled in her school notebook.
“My name is...Fez,” he said with a grin.
“Like the guy on the TV show?” asked Claire dubiously.
“Yeths.” He said it in such a perfect little quirky imitation.
She laughed. It surprised her that he could be silly. “Liar.”
“Why? It could be a family name.” He said it jokingly but then his eyes got very dark all of the sudden.
“Fine, you don’t want to tell me? I’m just going to call you Old Man from now on,” said Claire.
He was sitting at her desk, his hands folded behind his head, legs outstretched. “Why do you have to call me anything?”
“I guess I don’t…but what if I want to write about you in my Livejournal?” asked Claire teasingly.
He sat forward and his brown eyes looked very serious. “You can’t - you absolutely cannot write about me. Anywhere. Or talk about me to anyone. Okay?”
“Why not?”
“Because. The more you know about me, the more likely it’ll cause a rift.”
“A rift?” she asked.
“Like, the more people involved, the more likely we are to mess something up in the future, if we change the future too much and too quickly. That’s why I’m not giving you details about me. We shouldn’t risk it.”
“Okay. So if you don’t want to risk it, why bother coming to visit at all?” She was trying very hard not to sound miffed, but her words still came out pretty snitty.
It’s not like they even did anything when he came, really. He would talk to her about her day, ask what she had for dinner. Dumb stuff.
He sat up in her chair and seemed to get serious. “I’m not going to lie to you, Claire. I know how smart you are. I’m just saying that up front.”
Claire braced her fingers against her mattress.
“I’m here because I have to get you to trust yourself. Your instincts,” he said.
“Oookay…”
He sighed. “And me. That’s the big part. I have to get you to trust me.”
She nodded. “Okay, I do.”
He chuckled.
“I said, I trust you! Now what?” she asked impatiently.
“That’s all I’m here for.”
She looked at him dubiously. “You just want me…to trust you?”
“Yep.”
“Why?” she asked, utterly confused.
“I just need you to,” he said lightly.
“Um. So what is it you ask me to like, do? Kill someone?”
He laughed. “No. Nothing like that.”
“Why can’t you tell me?” she grumbled.
“There’s nothing to tell. I mean there are specifics, and I’ve gone over it in my mind a million times what I should and shouldn’t tell you…and really the only thing that you need to know is that you can trust me, Claire.”
He hadn’t blinked during that whole little spiel. His eyes had remained on hers the whole time.
“So,” he said easily, and leaned back into his chair. “That’s why I’m here. So we can get to know each other better.”
“You want me to get to know you, but you not say anything about yourself?” asked Claire sarcastically.
“No. I mean, I can say some things.”
“Like what,” she said teasingly.
His eyes gleamed with humor. “I like chocolate ice cream, and my favorite Beatles song is Yesterday.”
She threw one of her teddy bears at his head. “That’s half of the planet, freak.” She thought for a second. “More than half.”
He caught the bear, and laughingly tossed it back to her.
next chapter!
A/N: again, thanks for all of the reviews. please keep reviewing. i love them like a companion loves alliance credits.
Author: missaliceblue
Pairing: Peter/Claire. Written for eowyn_girl.
Rating: R for themes, language, some adult situations. But mostly themes.
Status: 7/15. I’ve written the whole thing already, and will try to update daily.
Summary: Peter and Claire were both caught up in this crazy, never-ending circle a long time ago. The real question was, if they could change how things turned out, would they?
Previous chapters here.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
------------------------
“Listen. Just listen. I’m going to try and explain it to you the way he told me to.”
Claire thought back carefully, and was trying to select which bits and pieces she could give him, what would be the best to tell him.
He was petrified, looked like he was going to hyperventilate as he stood rigidly against the front door of her apartment.
She certainly couldn’t tell him the truth - he wasn’t ready to hear it and, what’s more, it would take too long.
There was an awful lot of truth…
-----
Claire had just gotten out of the shower. It had been extra steamy, the way she liked it. She had taken all the hot water, but her parents were out and it was just Lyle and her and who cared about Lyle anyway?
Her skin was flushed pink and she tied herself into her warm terrycloth robe. It was old and definitely too ‘kiddie’ for a sixteen year old to wear, but she liked it.
She walked quickly to her room and locked the door, so there wouldn’t be any annoying interruptions from Lyle. She turned her stereo on, loud, and hummed along.
She squeezed a dab of lotion from the pump on her dresser and sat on her bed while she massaged it into her face. She rubbed her wet head hard with her towel, and flipped back her hair.
And then she screamed. At the top of her lungs. Standing in her room was a boy. No, a man. He was not very tall but he still looked like a man. An old man! With scruff on his face! Claire jumped onto her bed with a yelp.
“Shh, Claire, it’s okay!” His hands were raised in front of him in a non-threatening manner.
Claire stood on her bed and grabbed the nearest thing-that-could-be-used-as-a-weapon. She pointed her tumbling trophy in away from her body. “Don’t touch me! I’ll kill you!”
Of course he didn't seem scared. In fact it seemed like he was trying not to laugh.
“It’s okay, Claire, really, I am not going to hurt you, I swear. I know you really well in the future. I’m special, like you are,” said the man, the old man.
“Shut up,” she said shakily, hoping she came across meaner than she sounded to her own ears. “How do you know my name? How’d you get in here?”
“I…listen. That doesn’t matter,” he said. “I’ll tell you in a minute, okay?”
“Tell me now,” she said, bargaining for time. She was going to have to scream louder. It was her damned stereo that was keeping the whole neighborhood from hearing her.
The man shook his head. “Hmm,” he said, and reached into his pocket. “This’ll be faster.”
And then he pulled out a knife.
She burst into tears.
“Claire! Jesus,” said the man, and he started toward her, which only made her cry more.
True it was a small knife…it was one of those little Swiss Army Knifes. But those could still kill someone. Claire screamed again. Where the hell was Lyle when it would do some good?
“Lyle! There’s an old man in my room and he’s got a knife!”
“Old man?”
“Shut up I said!” Claire shook her trophy at him.
The old man flicked open the blade of his knife. Oh no. No no no. She held onto the trophy like a baseball bat, ready to beat him to death when he came at her.
“Look, don’t cry and don’t scream, okay? Just watch.”
And then the man stuck the blade into his arm, and pulled down vehemently.
She couldn’t help it, she yelled again, that there was some crazy psycho old man in her room and he was cutting himself.
The man pulled the knife out of his arm, and Claire’s eyes widened as the wound knitted itself together.
Claire didn't say anything for what felt like hours. She just stared at the drops of blood dripping off of his arm. At the smooth skin that appeared underneath the parted rivulets of red.
She felt a little lightheaded, and maybe…a little giddy. Like she wanted to smile, even though she knew she was still probably in danger but…she wasn’t afraid anymore.
“You’re like me,” she said softly.
She hopped off her bed and stood in front of the old man. Well, he wasn’t that old after all, maybe.
She touched the skin on his arm, where it had recently healed. It was smooth and warm.
And then she looked up at him. He was smirking at her. In a nice way.
“I thought it was just me…and now there’s you,” she said. She smiled at him with what felt like every bone in her body.
-----
She liked him, and after he stuck his knife into his arm, she wasn’t afraid of him anymore. It didn't bug her when he would come visit.
Actually, it was kinda cool.
He knew she was going to be a cheerleader this year. He knew she didn't like bananas, and that she couldn’t fall asleep unless the door to her closet was closed.
He knew about her dad, her mom, her brother, and he knew a lot more too. Stuff he wouldn’t tell her when she asked. She could see it in his eyes.
“How do I know you in the future?”
“We’re just friends,” he said firmly.
“Duh,” she said, and gave him a Look.
“Sorry. You know what I mean.”
“What’s your name?” she asked. It was an innocent question, she thought. Especially since this was the second time he’d come to visit her. She’d turn around, and he’d be there, standing against the door, usually.
“I can’t tell you,” he said apologetically.
“You know my name,” she said, like that would make any sort of difference. It really pissed her off sometimes. He knew everything about her, and she knew nothing about him.
He told her to be patient.
Claire was going to take A.P. Chemistry this year. He helped her with her summer assignment, and he was really, really good at it. So good that she wondered if he was a doctor or a scientist in his real life. Or something.
-----
She liked his visits, didn't realize that she’d grown to look forward to them so much until he didn't come for three nights in a row.
When he finally came, she voiced her only complaint.
“What am I supposed to call you? It feels weird being like, ‘Hey You,’ all the time,” said Claire as she doodled in her school notebook.
“My name is...Fez,” he said with a grin.
“Like the guy on the TV show?” asked Claire dubiously.
“Yeths.” He said it in such a perfect little quirky imitation.
She laughed. It surprised her that he could be silly. “Liar.”
“Why? It could be a family name.” He said it jokingly but then his eyes got very dark all of the sudden.
“Fine, you don’t want to tell me? I’m just going to call you Old Man from now on,” said Claire.
He was sitting at her desk, his hands folded behind his head, legs outstretched. “Why do you have to call me anything?”
“I guess I don’t…but what if I want to write about you in my Livejournal?” asked Claire teasingly.
He sat forward and his brown eyes looked very serious. “You can’t - you absolutely cannot write about me. Anywhere. Or talk about me to anyone. Okay?”
“Why not?”
“Because. The more you know about me, the more likely it’ll cause a rift.”
“A rift?” she asked.
“Like, the more people involved, the more likely we are to mess something up in the future, if we change the future too much and too quickly. That’s why I’m not giving you details about me. We shouldn’t risk it.”
“Okay. So if you don’t want to risk it, why bother coming to visit at all?” She was trying very hard not to sound miffed, but her words still came out pretty snitty.
It’s not like they even did anything when he came, really. He would talk to her about her day, ask what she had for dinner. Dumb stuff.
He sat up in her chair and seemed to get serious. “I’m not going to lie to you, Claire. I know how smart you are. I’m just saying that up front.”
Claire braced her fingers against her mattress.
“I’m here because I have to get you to trust yourself. Your instincts,” he said.
“Oookay…”
He sighed. “And me. That’s the big part. I have to get you to trust me.”
She nodded. “Okay, I do.”
He chuckled.
“I said, I trust you! Now what?” she asked impatiently.
“That’s all I’m here for.”
She looked at him dubiously. “You just want me…to trust you?”
“Yep.”
“Why?” she asked, utterly confused.
“I just need you to,” he said lightly.
“Um. So what is it you ask me to like, do? Kill someone?”
He laughed. “No. Nothing like that.”
“Why can’t you tell me?” she grumbled.
“There’s nothing to tell. I mean there are specifics, and I’ve gone over it in my mind a million times what I should and shouldn’t tell you…and really the only thing that you need to know is that you can trust me, Claire.”
He hadn’t blinked during that whole little spiel. His eyes had remained on hers the whole time.
“So,” he said easily, and leaned back into his chair. “That’s why I’m here. So we can get to know each other better.”
“You want me to get to know you, but you not say anything about yourself?” asked Claire sarcastically.
“No. I mean, I can say some things.”
“Like what,” she said teasingly.
His eyes gleamed with humor. “I like chocolate ice cream, and my favorite Beatles song is Yesterday.”
She threw one of her teddy bears at his head. “That’s half of the planet, freak.” She thought for a second. “More than half.”
He caught the bear, and laughingly tossed it back to her.
next chapter!
A/N: again, thanks for all of the reviews. please keep reviewing. i love them like a companion loves alliance credits.