(the dust of ages) chapter eight: he can only hold her
Title: The Dust of Ages
Pairing: Peter/Claire. Written for eowyn_girl.
Rating: R for themes, language, some adult situations. But mostly themes.
Status: 8/15. 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.
------------------------
She was craving tacos desperately late one night and tried to get him to go to Taco Lita with her. Her mom had made meat loaf and she hated it and she was starving for some real food.
“I can’t, Claire. I shouldn’t leave this room.”
“Why not?” she asked, though she already knew the answer.
“It’s too easy for me to mess something up. Think of The Butterfly Effect. You seen it?”
She nodded. She’d nursed a pretty heavy crush on Ashton Kutcher through most of junior high. But he didn't need to know that.
“I thought you were trying to change the future?” she asked.
“I am. But not the future at large,” he said.
“We can’t go even for a second? I'm sure no one would see us,” she bargained, though she knew he would say no.
He smiled sadly at her. “You know I’d love to go with you. If I could, I mean.”
“Yeah,” she said grumpily. “Either way, I guess it’s better since if I saw someone I wouldn’t know how to introduce you.”
“True,” he said carefully.
“So, if that ever happens, what should I call you?”
He rolled his eyes at her, not fooled for a second.
“Ashton,” he said wryly, and looked at her like he knew everything about her.
Maybe he did.
-----
It was the night before school started, and Claire asked for his opinion on what she should wear for her first day.
“Try me,” he said, and sat on the floor by the closet.
He liked to sit there, sometimes, when he came to visit.
So she modeled the two shirts she was torn between. They were just plain old t-shirts from American Eagle, but still, she wanted to look nice, you know?
Claire always wore a white tank top underneath t-shirts. Now she just pulled off the t-shirt, didn't bother to go into the closet to do it.
She wondered if he’d think it shocking, the way she so lackadaisically took her shirt off in front of him. Even if it didn't show anything but her tank top underneath.
But he was looking away, facing the wall politely.
She wondered if Future Claire had ever taken her shirt off in front of him.
The thought made her fingers numb.
-----
A.P. Chemistry had a crazy amount of homework, from the very first day of school. He helped her with it, almost every night he came. She would sit at her desk and he would bend over her, slightly.
One night they got in a heated argument over colligative properties and she slammed the textbook down onto her desk, hard, for emphasis.
Her dad burst into the room. “Everything okay, kiddo?”
She looked at him, stricken.
“Claire?”
“Um. Yeah. Everything is cool,” said Claire slowly. “I just dropped this,” she said, and nudged her book.
“Okay,” said her Dad with a smile, and shut her door.
He, the Old Man, came back a couple minutes later, wouldn’t tell her how he’d hid from her dad so quickly.
“Warn me the next time you decide to start throwing twenty pound books around,” he said irritably.
She giggled at him - at his exaggerated frown, the obvious displeasure on his face.
And then he looked down at her, met her eyes, and smiled back at her.
She started locking her door that night. Just in case.
-----
“You’re from the future. Is it set in stone?” she asked late one night. She was nearly asleep, nestled into her bed, with a blanket draped over her body.
He was sitting on her floor. He sometimes came late like that, and just sat with her till she fell asleep.
“I hope not,” he replied.
“Don’t you know? Isn’t that why you’re here? To change things?”
He hesitated. “Some things.”
“But you can change the bad stuff, right?” asked Claire sleepily.
He sighed. “I’m trying. I’m not sure if I even can. But something wants me to try.”
“The hand of God.”
“I guess,” he said, his mouth twisting. “But I’ve got to keep trying. I just hope I don’t change anything I shouldn’t.”
“Basically, you want to smash just one butterfly…the one that’s you,” said Claire.
“Gross imagery, but yeah, I guess it applies,” he said with a chuckle.
Claire was quiet for a few minutes, struggling against the sleep that was biting at her consciousness. “It’s kind of scary to think we could mess stuff up.”
He spoke emphatically. “That’s not how it works, Claire. This is your time. You belong here. You can always change things however you like, and it won’t mess up the past.”
“I don’t get it,” she said softly.
He stood and walked over to the chair at her desk, leaned forward earnestly onto his knees. The moonlight crossed over his face. “I mean, you can make anything happen. You never have to worry about changing things how you want them to go. You have a choice in this.”
‘Then why can’t I know your name?” she asked, and it sounded really pouty, but that was because she was tired, surely.
“Because that’s me bringing information back to you. I’m the one that’s out of place in this time. No, you always have a choice - you can always make whatever decision you want. Okay?”
“That doesn’t seem fair,” she said.
She heard him sigh. “Well, If I do this right, I won’t have to come back to bug you anymore.”
“I don’t want you to go,” she said quietly, still nearly asleep.
“I’ll still be there. And mostly the same person,” he said.
“That’s good,” she said, and then she was asleep.
-----
“Have you heard this album?” Claire held the CD case up. Zach had given it to her that afternoon.
He, the Old Man, was sitting on the floor again.
He squinted at the case. “Amy Winehouse. Yes, I have…many a-time.”
“Do you like it?” Claire asked, as she turned to slip the CD into her stereo.
He laughed. “Not particularly. But I know you do.”
Claire smiled with her back to him. She loved it when he dropped hints and didn't notice.
A minute later she spoke again. “I bet in the future you don’t even use CDs anymore.”
He sighed. “We do. Now stop fishing, okay?”
Claire bounced on to her bed, kicking her heels into the mattress in time with the music. “I’m not fishing! Ugh,” she said exasperatedly.
But she was, and he’d caught her at it, which was embarrassing.
Claire flopped back onto her bed, her legs still dangling off the edge.
“Is Future Claire a gigantic ninny?”
“A what?” he asked.
“A ninny, you know, a wuss. You say I have to learn to trust my instincts. So does Future Claire like, not? Does she do whatever people tell her to?”
He laughed. “Hardly.”
“Then I don’t get it.” She turned on her side to look at him.
His face sobered. “You are a very strong person, Claire. No one pushes you around. You know your mind. And I’m not just talking about Future Claire - I’m talking about you.”
“Then why are you even here?” She sounded accusatory even though she didn't mean to.
“Doubting your instincts is natural. Especially when stuff is so out of the ordinary. For people like us, I mean,” he said. “I’m just hoping that you’ll learn that you can rely on them.”
She laid back onto her bed again, stared at the ceiling. She was quiet for a long while. Just thinking about what he’d said…trying to sort out what it meant. She was glad that he said that she was strong, glad that he said she knew her own mind.
But he hadn’t exactly answered the question, and that worried her.
“Future Claire is not a wuss,” he said after awhile, in a voice that was very decided.
She smiled.
“Know what my instincts are telling me now?” she asked. She wound her fingers into a pillow on her bed.
“I can’t wait for you to tell me.”
She threw the pillow at his face, but he was too fast. He leapt off the ground when he caught it.
The loud music muffled her shriek of laughter as he attacked.
-----
“When can I meet you? I want to meet you in real life,” said Claire one night.
They were laying on her bed, side by side. It was very late at night.
He had his arm under her head. It wasn’t sexual or anything, at all. Just kinda nice and comforting.
“Soon.”
“When?” she pressed again.
He sighed. “Man, you are so impatient as a teenager.”
It was a little detail, but probably the biggest one he’d ever outright said. She smiled in the dark.
She sighed. “I can’t wait to meet you.”
“You know me now,” he said.
“Yeah, but I don’t even know your name. I swear, the minute I see you I am going to just walk up to you and make you tell me. And then I’m going to make you take me for tacos,” said Claire.
“No-no, you can’t do that,” he said, and she sat up.
“Why not?”
He sat up as well. “Because you can’t. Claire, I don’t know you. When you meet me, I won’t know you.”
“So?”
“You have to pretend like I’m a stranger. When you meet Right Now Me, you have to pretend like you’re meeting me for the first time. Say all the things you would’ve said to a stranger.”
She wrinkled her nose. “That will be weird. It’ll sound dumb and fake.”
“No it won’t. I know you’re a good actress,” he said.
“Yeah. I guess I do know how to pretend to be Normal Claire,” she said grumpily.
“I wouldn’t worry about that so much as the expression on this,” he said, and touched the tip of her nose with his finger. “You look like you know a big secret when you lie. So try to stuff it,” he said, and poked her arm gently.
She laughed. “I’ll try.”
He paused, and squinted. “Actually you should just let me do the talking. It's safer that way.”
“Fine with me.” She shrugged her shoulders like it didn't matter.
But it did.
next chapter!
a/n: no updates to this story this weekend - they'll be back monday. but i do have a different peter/claire fic that i'll probably put up tomorrow, and possibly another one on sunday as well. clearly i have a serious problem :)
Pairing: Peter/Claire. Written for eowyn_girl.
Rating: R for themes, language, some adult situations. But mostly themes.
Status: 8/15. 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.
------------------------
She was craving tacos desperately late one night and tried to get him to go to Taco Lita with her. Her mom had made meat loaf and she hated it and she was starving for some real food.
“I can’t, Claire. I shouldn’t leave this room.”
“Why not?” she asked, though she already knew the answer.
“It’s too easy for me to mess something up. Think of The Butterfly Effect. You seen it?”
She nodded. She’d nursed a pretty heavy crush on Ashton Kutcher through most of junior high. But he didn't need to know that.
“I thought you were trying to change the future?” she asked.
“I am. But not the future at large,” he said.
“We can’t go even for a second? I'm sure no one would see us,” she bargained, though she knew he would say no.
He smiled sadly at her. “You know I’d love to go with you. If I could, I mean.”
“Yeah,” she said grumpily. “Either way, I guess it’s better since if I saw someone I wouldn’t know how to introduce you.”
“True,” he said carefully.
“So, if that ever happens, what should I call you?”
He rolled his eyes at her, not fooled for a second.
“Ashton,” he said wryly, and looked at her like he knew everything about her.
Maybe he did.
-----
It was the night before school started, and Claire asked for his opinion on what she should wear for her first day.
“Try me,” he said, and sat on the floor by the closet.
He liked to sit there, sometimes, when he came to visit.
So she modeled the two shirts she was torn between. They were just plain old t-shirts from American Eagle, but still, she wanted to look nice, you know?
Claire always wore a white tank top underneath t-shirts. Now she just pulled off the t-shirt, didn't bother to go into the closet to do it.
She wondered if he’d think it shocking, the way she so lackadaisically took her shirt off in front of him. Even if it didn't show anything but her tank top underneath.
But he was looking away, facing the wall politely.
She wondered if Future Claire had ever taken her shirt off in front of him.
The thought made her fingers numb.
-----
A.P. Chemistry had a crazy amount of homework, from the very first day of school. He helped her with it, almost every night he came. She would sit at her desk and he would bend over her, slightly.
One night they got in a heated argument over colligative properties and she slammed the textbook down onto her desk, hard, for emphasis.
Her dad burst into the room. “Everything okay, kiddo?”
She looked at him, stricken.
“Claire?”
“Um. Yeah. Everything is cool,” said Claire slowly. “I just dropped this,” she said, and nudged her book.
“Okay,” said her Dad with a smile, and shut her door.
He, the Old Man, came back a couple minutes later, wouldn’t tell her how he’d hid from her dad so quickly.
“Warn me the next time you decide to start throwing twenty pound books around,” he said irritably.
She giggled at him - at his exaggerated frown, the obvious displeasure on his face.
And then he looked down at her, met her eyes, and smiled back at her.
She started locking her door that night. Just in case.
-----
“You’re from the future. Is it set in stone?” she asked late one night. She was nearly asleep, nestled into her bed, with a blanket draped over her body.
He was sitting on her floor. He sometimes came late like that, and just sat with her till she fell asleep.
“I hope not,” he replied.
“Don’t you know? Isn’t that why you’re here? To change things?”
He hesitated. “Some things.”
“But you can change the bad stuff, right?” asked Claire sleepily.
He sighed. “I’m trying. I’m not sure if I even can. But something wants me to try.”
“The hand of God.”
“I guess,” he said, his mouth twisting. “But I’ve got to keep trying. I just hope I don’t change anything I shouldn’t.”
“Basically, you want to smash just one butterfly…the one that’s you,” said Claire.
“Gross imagery, but yeah, I guess it applies,” he said with a chuckle.
Claire was quiet for a few minutes, struggling against the sleep that was biting at her consciousness. “It’s kind of scary to think we could mess stuff up.”
He spoke emphatically. “That’s not how it works, Claire. This is your time. You belong here. You can always change things however you like, and it won’t mess up the past.”
“I don’t get it,” she said softly.
He stood and walked over to the chair at her desk, leaned forward earnestly onto his knees. The moonlight crossed over his face. “I mean, you can make anything happen. You never have to worry about changing things how you want them to go. You have a choice in this.”
‘Then why can’t I know your name?” she asked, and it sounded really pouty, but that was because she was tired, surely.
“Because that’s me bringing information back to you. I’m the one that’s out of place in this time. No, you always have a choice - you can always make whatever decision you want. Okay?”
“That doesn’t seem fair,” she said.
She heard him sigh. “Well, If I do this right, I won’t have to come back to bug you anymore.”
“I don’t want you to go,” she said quietly, still nearly asleep.
“I’ll still be there. And mostly the same person,” he said.
“That’s good,” she said, and then she was asleep.
-----
“Have you heard this album?” Claire held the CD case up. Zach had given it to her that afternoon.
He, the Old Man, was sitting on the floor again.
He squinted at the case. “Amy Winehouse. Yes, I have…many a-time.”
“Do you like it?” Claire asked, as she turned to slip the CD into her stereo.
He laughed. “Not particularly. But I know you do.”
Claire smiled with her back to him. She loved it when he dropped hints and didn't notice.
A minute later she spoke again. “I bet in the future you don’t even use CDs anymore.”
He sighed. “We do. Now stop fishing, okay?”
Claire bounced on to her bed, kicking her heels into the mattress in time with the music. “I’m not fishing! Ugh,” she said exasperatedly.
But she was, and he’d caught her at it, which was embarrassing.
Claire flopped back onto her bed, her legs still dangling off the edge.
“Is Future Claire a gigantic ninny?”
“A what?” he asked.
“A ninny, you know, a wuss. You say I have to learn to trust my instincts. So does Future Claire like, not? Does she do whatever people tell her to?”
He laughed. “Hardly.”
“Then I don’t get it.” She turned on her side to look at him.
His face sobered. “You are a very strong person, Claire. No one pushes you around. You know your mind. And I’m not just talking about Future Claire - I’m talking about you.”
“Then why are you even here?” She sounded accusatory even though she didn't mean to.
“Doubting your instincts is natural. Especially when stuff is so out of the ordinary. For people like us, I mean,” he said. “I’m just hoping that you’ll learn that you can rely on them.”
She laid back onto her bed again, stared at the ceiling. She was quiet for a long while. Just thinking about what he’d said…trying to sort out what it meant. She was glad that he said that she was strong, glad that he said she knew her own mind.
But he hadn’t exactly answered the question, and that worried her.
“Future Claire is not a wuss,” he said after awhile, in a voice that was very decided.
She smiled.
“Know what my instincts are telling me now?” she asked. She wound her fingers into a pillow on her bed.
“I can’t wait for you to tell me.”
She threw the pillow at his face, but he was too fast. He leapt off the ground when he caught it.
The loud music muffled her shriek of laughter as he attacked.
-----
“When can I meet you? I want to meet you in real life,” said Claire one night.
They were laying on her bed, side by side. It was very late at night.
He had his arm under her head. It wasn’t sexual or anything, at all. Just kinda nice and comforting.
“Soon.”
“When?” she pressed again.
He sighed. “Man, you are so impatient as a teenager.”
It was a little detail, but probably the biggest one he’d ever outright said. She smiled in the dark.
She sighed. “I can’t wait to meet you.”
“You know me now,” he said.
“Yeah, but I don’t even know your name. I swear, the minute I see you I am going to just walk up to you and make you tell me. And then I’m going to make you take me for tacos,” said Claire.
“No-no, you can’t do that,” he said, and she sat up.
“Why not?”
He sat up as well. “Because you can’t. Claire, I don’t know you. When you meet me, I won’t know you.”
“So?”
“You have to pretend like I’m a stranger. When you meet Right Now Me, you have to pretend like you’re meeting me for the first time. Say all the things you would’ve said to a stranger.”
She wrinkled her nose. “That will be weird. It’ll sound dumb and fake.”
“No it won’t. I know you’re a good actress,” he said.
“Yeah. I guess I do know how to pretend to be Normal Claire,” she said grumpily.
“I wouldn’t worry about that so much as the expression on this,” he said, and touched the tip of her nose with his finger. “You look like you know a big secret when you lie. So try to stuff it,” he said, and poked her arm gently.
She laughed. “I’ll try.”
He paused, and squinted. “Actually you should just let me do the talking. It's safer that way.”
“Fine with me.” She shrugged her shoulders like it didn't matter.
But it did.
next chapter!
a/n: no updates to this story this weekend - they'll be back monday. but i do have a different peter/claire fic that i'll probably put up tomorrow, and possibly another one on sunday as well. clearly i have a serious problem :)