Straight Ahead (Bennet, Claude, Heroes oneshot)
Title: Straight ahead
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Company Man
Pairings: Optional Claude/Bennet, Implied Bennet/Sandra
Characters: Noah Bennet, Claude Raines
Genre: Drama, Angst
Warnings: None, really
Summary: Accidents can't always be apologized for.
Disclaimer: Dont oowwwn
AN: Right, so blame the random pairing gen, but I HAD to do this one.
---
Straight Ahead
"Evidentially I think you're a better man than they do."
Hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, and grey eyes stared straight ahead, unblinking. The engine roared and the jeep flew through the road at highly dangerous and illegal speeds. The only sound to break the monotony was the falling rain, breaking across a windshield that didn't bother with wipers.
The gun crashed to the pavement, and he assured himself that the suspect was elusive and needed confirmation. His hands felt chill as they contacted with fresh blood on the hand railing.
"Claude? CLAUDE!"
The forest that rapidly encroached on his decaying road was unfamiliar and dark. His teeth ground as he urged more speed out of the empty vehicle. He was on a one way road. There was no going back anymore. What was there to go back to but hollow smiles and meaningless platitudes?
The gun was offensive. An unholy, malfunctioning, defective bit of scrap metal. He hated it. It was a murderer.
He was just...
"I didn't..." He sighed, forcing his gaze away from the gun. "You know."
He was still just a rookie at this. It was cruel and unnecessary to send him on this mission. Anyone else could have done it, and done it better. Thompson....Thompson was just evil. He knew that better than anyone else alive.
The jeep wasn't designed for this dirt path, but what was one set of shocks? All that mattered was moving forward. Keep on moving. Thats all that mattered.
He couldn't find his keys. Why couldn't he find his keys? He leaned over the edge of the bridge, squinting for any shining spot on the ground. He couldn't see how his situation would have been any worse if they had fallen down there.
His stomach lurched at the lack of anything. No keys. No body. No blood. It was as if he had never been--the epitome of an unmarked grave.
He felt sick. He'd felt sick since he'd watched the one he entrusted his life to flicker in and out like some sort of insubstantial hologram. He'd felt pretty damned depraved, too, when wide, disbelieving eyes met, and trust shattered.
Who knew you could see something like that?
In the invisible man of all people.
Speed dial #1. Sandra was #2. Claude was #3. Why did they get #1? Why not his wife? He didn't trust them with his daughter, did he? With his wife? With himself? He didn't trust them at all, and they didn't trust him.
Why did they get #1?
His fist clenched tightly, and he flung the offending phone into the endless expanse.
The car shuddered and coughed and slowed to a stop. He slammed a palm into the steering wheel, and glared futilely at the needle pointing toward empty.
"Damn it! Damn it!" He punched and smacked the dashboard to punctuate his words, before head butting the chair behind him, and closing his eyes in despair. "Damn it."
The rain was gone, and the silence was painful to his ears.
"Damn it...."
His head fell forward to rest on the steering wheel. His nails dug into vinyl and his teeth ground together in wordless, incomprehensible fury.
Damn damn damn damn damn.
Blood marred his lips and chin, and smudged across the wheel. The stinging was a welcome sensation. Anything to distract from the cold and the silence and the empty seat.
He deserved better than #3.
END
---
AN: Yeah. Take it as you will. This is like...first HRG angst by me EVAR.
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Company Man
Pairings: Optional Claude/Bennet, Implied Bennet/Sandra
Characters: Noah Bennet, Claude Raines
Genre: Drama, Angst
Warnings: None, really
Summary: Accidents can't always be apologized for.
Disclaimer: Dont oowwwn
AN: Right, so blame the random pairing gen, but I HAD to do this one.
---
Straight Ahead
"Evidentially I think you're a better man than they do."
Hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, and grey eyes stared straight ahead, unblinking. The engine roared and the jeep flew through the road at highly dangerous and illegal speeds. The only sound to break the monotony was the falling rain, breaking across a windshield that didn't bother with wipers.
The gun crashed to the pavement, and he assured himself that the suspect was elusive and needed confirmation. His hands felt chill as they contacted with fresh blood on the hand railing.
"Claude? CLAUDE!"
The forest that rapidly encroached on his decaying road was unfamiliar and dark. His teeth ground as he urged more speed out of the empty vehicle. He was on a one way road. There was no going back anymore. What was there to go back to but hollow smiles and meaningless platitudes?
The gun was offensive. An unholy, malfunctioning, defective bit of scrap metal. He hated it. It was a murderer.
He was just...
"I didn't..." He sighed, forcing his gaze away from the gun. "You know."
He was still just a rookie at this. It was cruel and unnecessary to send him on this mission. Anyone else could have done it, and done it better. Thompson....Thompson was just evil. He knew that better than anyone else alive.
The jeep wasn't designed for this dirt path, but what was one set of shocks? All that mattered was moving forward. Keep on moving. Thats all that mattered.
He couldn't find his keys. Why couldn't he find his keys? He leaned over the edge of the bridge, squinting for any shining spot on the ground. He couldn't see how his situation would have been any worse if they had fallen down there.
His stomach lurched at the lack of anything. No keys. No body. No blood. It was as if he had never been--the epitome of an unmarked grave.
He felt sick. He'd felt sick since he'd watched the one he entrusted his life to flicker in and out like some sort of insubstantial hologram. He'd felt pretty damned depraved, too, when wide, disbelieving eyes met, and trust shattered.
Who knew you could see something like that?
In the invisible man of all people.
Speed dial #1. Sandra was #2. Claude was #3. Why did they get #1? Why not his wife? He didn't trust them with his daughter, did he? With his wife? With himself? He didn't trust them at all, and they didn't trust him.
Why did they get #1?
His fist clenched tightly, and he flung the offending phone into the endless expanse.
The car shuddered and coughed and slowed to a stop. He slammed a palm into the steering wheel, and glared futilely at the needle pointing toward empty.
"Damn it! Damn it!" He punched and smacked the dashboard to punctuate his words, before head butting the chair behind him, and closing his eyes in despair. "Damn it."
The rain was gone, and the silence was painful to his ears.
"Damn it...."
His head fell forward to rest on the steering wheel. His nails dug into vinyl and his teeth ground together in wordless, incomprehensible fury.
Damn damn damn damn damn.
Blood marred his lips and chin, and smudged across the wheel. The stinging was a welcome sensation. Anything to distract from the cold and the silence and the empty seat.
He deserved better than #3.
END
---
AN: Yeah. Take it as you will. This is like...first HRG angst by me EVAR.