awakening, crossover prompt, no pairing
Title: Awakening
Author: skripka
Prompt: Crossover (Heroes)
Pairing: none
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: none
Summary: Tam escaped, found Miranda, and she and the renegade crew that she's fallen in with decided to broadcast the secret.
His eyes opened. It was cold and dark.
No, not completely dark. There was a pale glow, just enough to show the difference between eyes closed and open.
He tested that a few more times before taking stock. He should have been scared or disoriented--that would have been logical--but he felt comfort. Safe, even.
Cold and safe, if a bit sore. Cramped. He closed his eyes again. A body his age shouldn't be forced into a box like this.
How old was he? How did he know he was in a box?
Did he even have a name?
More questions, and he couldn't bring himself to care.
There was a sound, and he opened his eyes again. This time, an edge of light was appearing above--or what passed for above in this little world.
"Nathan?"
Was that his name? The voice was male, concerned, familiar...
"Nathan, wake up. I know you're there."
Peter. The one constant in his life. He should have known. Nathan groaned as he tried to stretch his stiff muscles. "What happened this time?"
Peter's voice paused. Nathan could picture the frown. "You left during a board meeting."
"Is that a new euphemism? 'Left?'" Nathan grimaced. His toes were working, at least, and his fingers. He tried and managed to sit up, although the light outside the box seemed unreasonably bright. "My head hurts."
"It was a stroke," Peter replied, a bit of worry in his voice. He offered Nathan a warmed robe. "I sent the members offline and took you to our facility."
Nathan wrapped the fabric around him. "Good. And how long has it been?"
"Three days, Londinium standard."
Nathan nodded. "Okay. And what crisis required a full board meeting?" His head hurt, but he was remembering who he was and what he claimed as his purpose.
Peter moved into view and sprawled on a rich-looking chair. He looked exactly the same-- as static, young, and beautiful as he always had and always would. Nathan hadn't looked at a mirror in centuries. It wasn't that he was vain, entirely, but there was a point where he couldn't help but be jealous of Peter's youth. The lack of mirrors was a small sacrifice to immortality and power.
"Miranda," was Peter's terse reply.
"We took care of Miranda." Nathan remembered the name, if not the specifics. He remembered locking the files, even. He suddenly felt his age, and wondered if he had the energy to leave the box in order to collapse on one of the many plush seats he could see throughout the room.
"Yes, well, we thought we had." Peter sighed and leaned forward. "Remember the Tam incident?"
Nathan nodded. "And that's why we have operatives for."
"Yeah, well, we're down another one." Peter held out a hand. "Want a hand?"
Nathan wasn't too proud to let Peter help him out of the cryobox and into the chair beside him. There was a cup of warm tea, strong and sweet, which Peter pressed into Nathan's hand. Nathan made a face. "I miss coffee."
Peter nodded in reply. The coffee genome hadn't survived the exodus. There were plantations of a near-cultivar scattered throughout the system, but the liquid, while potable and a reasonable substitute, just didn't taste the same to Nathan, so he refused to even have it in his house.
"Anyway, Tam escaped, found Miranda, and she and the renegade crew that she's fallen in with decided to broadcast the secret." Peter frowned. "Luckily, since it was Parliment's decision to go ahead with the trial, the company has escaped most of the fallout."
Nathan scowled at his tea. "There's no danger of the government collapsing, is there?"
Peter shook his head. "Just a rearrangement of leadership. Monty's taking care of that."
"Good." Something pricked at the back of Nathan's mind. "And Simon? Claire?"
"Nathan." Peter rested his hand on Nathan's knee. "Simon never left Earth."
That was right. Nathan had to swallow the sudden grief. It had been centuries, but Simon was still his son. He coughed and managed a bitter laugh. "Short-term memory, huh?"
Peter smiled wanly. "Yeah. And we haven't heard from Claire in a while. Few years. She decided we were stifling her, and went on a walkabout."
"Typical," groused Nathan. "What have you been up to since I've been out of commission?"
"This and that," said Peter. "I found some interesting genetics, though."
"Oh?"
"Turns out that the Tams are descended from Monty's third wife." Peter grinned, anticipating Nathan's reaction. "And they have the gene."
He groaned. "Why am I surprised?" Nathan fixed Peter with a stare. "Both of them? Why weren't we keeping track?"
Peter shrugged. "The science department got a hold of the girl first. And that eidetic memory skill is easy to hide."
"You think that's what the older brother has?"
"Yeah, it'd explain his education scores." Peter shrugged. "Monty's gotten married often enough, not counting illegitimate children, that it's nearly impossible to track his descendants."
"Still," Nathan was irritated. "He should be keeping records. Besides, he's a technopath, it shouldn't be that hard. You'll talk to him?"
Peter laughed. "Oh, I certainly did. For all that he looks like my grandfather, he still treats me like I walk on water."
"Good. It's your fault that he's around, anyway." Nathan grimaced and rubbed his temples. "Do we have anything so old-fashioned as an aspirin around here?"
"Your head, still?" Nathan nodded, and Peter made a sympathetic noise as he stood and went to a cabinet in the far wall. He returned and pressed a vial to Nathan's neck. The relief was palpable and immediate.
"Thanks," said Nathan. He could start thinking clearly, now. "So, what are we going to do about Miranda, part two?"
Peter shrugged and sat down again. "I've got access to the operative's files, what's left of them, anyway. They're not saying much--this one had a particularly terse writing style."
Nathan nodded as Peter continued. "You didn't say much before your ...incident... so I've mostly been gathering information."
"Peter, you know you don't need my permission for anything," Nathan said, exasperated.
"Who said anything about permission?" Peter grinned. "We all know you're much better at plans that actually work."
Nathan grimaced but let the corners of his mouth quirk up. "So that's why you keep me around."
"It's better than some others, that's for sure." Peter laughed. "Shall I get dinner ready while you shower and finish the rejuvenation cycle?"
Nathan nodded. "That sounds good. Leave the files, would you?"
"Of course." Peter stood and kissed Nathan on the forehead. "Glad you're back with me, Nathan."
Nathan grabbed Peter's hand and squeezed it. "Yeah, well, you're going to have to put up with me for a while yet."
Peter smiled. "The files are on your desk. I'll bring dinner up in about an hour." He left the room almost quietly, except for the whoosh of the door. Nathan shook his head. Sometimes, he missed the old doors--you couldn't exactly slam a door that was designed to be unobtrusive.
He groaned as he stood up and walked to his desk. The files were there, printed out on their official Blue Sun logo plas-paper. Nathan smiled--Peter never forgot his preference for hard copies.
The top page contained a short vid of River Tam gracefully taking out a bar full of toughs. Nathan touched her face as the video replayed and snorted. "Of course you're my granddaughter. Causing trouble, just like a Petrelli," he murmured.
They'd have to bring her back into the fold. It wasn't safe for any of the genetically special to be out of contact for their entire lives. Nathan sighed. It was his job, the reason why Peter kept him around. Sure, Peter swore up and down that it was because he loved Nathan, but centuries of unforgiving life could turn even Peter, the youthful optimist, into as cynical a pragmatist as Nathan.
Nathan sighed again and slid the robe off his shoulders onto the floor. The mess that his bedroom tended to become nowadays would be cleaned by the time he came back. Good thing he enjoyed his long showers.
It was time to get back to work.
Author: skripka
Prompt: Crossover (Heroes)
Pairing: none
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: none
Summary: Tam escaped, found Miranda, and she and the renegade crew that she's fallen in with decided to broadcast the secret.
His eyes opened. It was cold and dark.
No, not completely dark. There was a pale glow, just enough to show the difference between eyes closed and open.
He tested that a few more times before taking stock. He should have been scared or disoriented--that would have been logical--but he felt comfort. Safe, even.
Cold and safe, if a bit sore. Cramped. He closed his eyes again. A body his age shouldn't be forced into a box like this.
How old was he? How did he know he was in a box?
Did he even have a name?
More questions, and he couldn't bring himself to care.
There was a sound, and he opened his eyes again. This time, an edge of light was appearing above--or what passed for above in this little world.
"Nathan?"
Was that his name? The voice was male, concerned, familiar...
"Nathan, wake up. I know you're there."
Peter. The one constant in his life. He should have known. Nathan groaned as he tried to stretch his stiff muscles. "What happened this time?"
Peter's voice paused. Nathan could picture the frown. "You left during a board meeting."
"Is that a new euphemism? 'Left?'" Nathan grimaced. His toes were working, at least, and his fingers. He tried and managed to sit up, although the light outside the box seemed unreasonably bright. "My head hurts."
"It was a stroke," Peter replied, a bit of worry in his voice. He offered Nathan a warmed robe. "I sent the members offline and took you to our facility."
Nathan wrapped the fabric around him. "Good. And how long has it been?"
"Three days, Londinium standard."
Nathan nodded. "Okay. And what crisis required a full board meeting?" His head hurt, but he was remembering who he was and what he claimed as his purpose.
Peter moved into view and sprawled on a rich-looking chair. He looked exactly the same-- as static, young, and beautiful as he always had and always would. Nathan hadn't looked at a mirror in centuries. It wasn't that he was vain, entirely, but there was a point where he couldn't help but be jealous of Peter's youth. The lack of mirrors was a small sacrifice to immortality and power.
"Miranda," was Peter's terse reply.
"We took care of Miranda." Nathan remembered the name, if not the specifics. He remembered locking the files, even. He suddenly felt his age, and wondered if he had the energy to leave the box in order to collapse on one of the many plush seats he could see throughout the room.
"Yes, well, we thought we had." Peter sighed and leaned forward. "Remember the Tam incident?"
Nathan nodded. "And that's why we have operatives for."
"Yeah, well, we're down another one." Peter held out a hand. "Want a hand?"
Nathan wasn't too proud to let Peter help him out of the cryobox and into the chair beside him. There was a cup of warm tea, strong and sweet, which Peter pressed into Nathan's hand. Nathan made a face. "I miss coffee."
Peter nodded in reply. The coffee genome hadn't survived the exodus. There were plantations of a near-cultivar scattered throughout the system, but the liquid, while potable and a reasonable substitute, just didn't taste the same to Nathan, so he refused to even have it in his house.
"Anyway, Tam escaped, found Miranda, and she and the renegade crew that she's fallen in with decided to broadcast the secret." Peter frowned. "Luckily, since it was Parliment's decision to go ahead with the trial, the company has escaped most of the fallout."
Nathan scowled at his tea. "There's no danger of the government collapsing, is there?"
Peter shook his head. "Just a rearrangement of leadership. Monty's taking care of that."
"Good." Something pricked at the back of Nathan's mind. "And Simon? Claire?"
"Nathan." Peter rested his hand on Nathan's knee. "Simon never left Earth."
That was right. Nathan had to swallow the sudden grief. It had been centuries, but Simon was still his son. He coughed and managed a bitter laugh. "Short-term memory, huh?"
Peter smiled wanly. "Yeah. And we haven't heard from Claire in a while. Few years. She decided we were stifling her, and went on a walkabout."
"Typical," groused Nathan. "What have you been up to since I've been out of commission?"
"This and that," said Peter. "I found some interesting genetics, though."
"Oh?"
"Turns out that the Tams are descended from Monty's third wife." Peter grinned, anticipating Nathan's reaction. "And they have the gene."
He groaned. "Why am I surprised?" Nathan fixed Peter with a stare. "Both of them? Why weren't we keeping track?"
Peter shrugged. "The science department got a hold of the girl first. And that eidetic memory skill is easy to hide."
"You think that's what the older brother has?"
"Yeah, it'd explain his education scores." Peter shrugged. "Monty's gotten married often enough, not counting illegitimate children, that it's nearly impossible to track his descendants."
"Still," Nathan was irritated. "He should be keeping records. Besides, he's a technopath, it shouldn't be that hard. You'll talk to him?"
Peter laughed. "Oh, I certainly did. For all that he looks like my grandfather, he still treats me like I walk on water."
"Good. It's your fault that he's around, anyway." Nathan grimaced and rubbed his temples. "Do we have anything so old-fashioned as an aspirin around here?"
"Your head, still?" Nathan nodded, and Peter made a sympathetic noise as he stood and went to a cabinet in the far wall. He returned and pressed a vial to Nathan's neck. The relief was palpable and immediate.
"Thanks," said Nathan. He could start thinking clearly, now. "So, what are we going to do about Miranda, part two?"
Peter shrugged and sat down again. "I've got access to the operative's files, what's left of them, anyway. They're not saying much--this one had a particularly terse writing style."
Nathan nodded as Peter continued. "You didn't say much before your ...incident... so I've mostly been gathering information."
"Peter, you know you don't need my permission for anything," Nathan said, exasperated.
"Who said anything about permission?" Peter grinned. "We all know you're much better at plans that actually work."
Nathan grimaced but let the corners of his mouth quirk up. "So that's why you keep me around."
"It's better than some others, that's for sure." Peter laughed. "Shall I get dinner ready while you shower and finish the rejuvenation cycle?"
Nathan nodded. "That sounds good. Leave the files, would you?"
"Of course." Peter stood and kissed Nathan on the forehead. "Glad you're back with me, Nathan."
Nathan grabbed Peter's hand and squeezed it. "Yeah, well, you're going to have to put up with me for a while yet."
Peter smiled. "The files are on your desk. I'll bring dinner up in about an hour." He left the room almost quietly, except for the whoosh of the door. Nathan shook his head. Sometimes, he missed the old doors--you couldn't exactly slam a door that was designed to be unobtrusive.
He groaned as he stood up and walked to his desk. The files were there, printed out on their official Blue Sun logo plas-paper. Nathan smiled--Peter never forgot his preference for hard copies.
The top page contained a short vid of River Tam gracefully taking out a bar full of toughs. Nathan touched her face as the video replayed and snorted. "Of course you're my granddaughter. Causing trouble, just like a Petrelli," he murmured.
They'd have to bring her back into the fold. It wasn't safe for any of the genetically special to be out of contact for their entire lives. Nathan sighed. It was his job, the reason why Peter kept him around. Sure, Peter swore up and down that it was because he loved Nathan, but centuries of unforgiving life could turn even Peter, the youthful optimist, into as cynical a pragmatist as Nathan.
Nathan sighed again and slid the robe off his shoulders onto the floor. The mess that his bedroom tended to become nowadays would be cleaned by the time he came back. Good thing he enjoyed his long showers.
It was time to get back to work.