All the People We Used to Know, Part 7/12
Title: All the People We Used to Know (7/12)
Sequel to: The Price of a Memory
Pairings: Peter/Claude
Rating: R
Warnings: slash, AU, loosely holiday-related, starts out on the fluffy side but doesn’t stay that way, liberties taken with the Season Two timeline of events, possible inconsistency with canon materials not aired on television
Spoilers: AU after the end of Season One, but through Season Two just to be safe.
Summary: Six months after the events of The Price of a Memory, Claude finds himself participating under protest in a Petrelli family gathering. But more is going on than meets the eye and soon Claude and Peter are faced with a difficult decision.
Disclaimer: Heroes and the associated characters don’t belong to me.
Previous Parts: Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six
All the People We Used to Know, Part 7/12
“Then there was the movie theater,” Nathan was saying into his third glass of Scotch, practically giggling at his own memories. “That was also off-limits with the nannies. They were always told: Peter can’t behave himself at the movie theater, so don’t even bother taking him there.”
Claude didn’t know whose idea it had been to fill the uncomfortable silences by telling embarrassing stories about Peter as a child, but he was beginning to think the amount of blackmail material he’d been able to gather in the past few hours alone was well worth being stuck in a room with the formidable Angela Petrelli.
“I don’t remember that at all,” Peter said, cheeks aflame with the combination of alcohol and embarrassment. And they hadn’t even brought out the baby pictures yet.
“No, it’s true,” Angela Petrelli said, breaking into the conversation. “Something about the dark and the noise. You used to get anxious and start crying. It was embarrassing.” She took a sip from her own nearly-empty wine glass. “Besides that, I didn’t want your nannies taking you to see those awful Disney cartoons. If they took you out at all, I preferred that they brought you to the museum or the park. Somewhere educational.”
“The museum?” Claire said from beside Claude. “It doesn’t seem like a little kid would be any better behaved there than at the movie theater.” Claire had managed to relax a bit since the initial terror of being reintroduced to her biological grandmother. But the hesitancy with which this observation was offered served to remind Claude once again that it wasn’t just Nathan the girl had been trying to get away from when she’d jumped out that window a year ago in New York.
“No, Peter was fascinated by the museum,” Angela replied. “He was in awe of it.”
“Yes, Ma, we all know Pete was very cultured from a very young age,” Nathan said, rolling his eyes.
“Well, he was,” Angela said, reaching up to tuck a strand of Peter’s hair behind his ear. A strangely affectionate gesture from a woman who made a block of ice look cuddly.
If meeting Angela Petrelli again wasn’t as bad as Claude had originally envisioned, it wasn’t at all because she was a less frightening person than he’d built her up to be in his mind. No, small as she was, she was still the most intimidating thing in the room. Or in a fifty mile radius, for that matter. But Peter’s mother had been too wrapped up in making amends with her estranged granddaughter to pay Claude much mind when they’d been introduced upon her arrival. She’d raised an eyebrow sharply at him, shook his hand twice and moved on to better things. At the time, Claude had felt almost good about himself, like he’d passed some sort of test. This was before Peter informed him that she’d saved her criticism for a silent exchange of thoughts with her son. Claude had since learned that Angela Petrelli’s hostility was a bit more passive aggressive than he’d anticipated. She wasn’t clawing his eyes out with her nails or anything but she’d made damn sure the seating arrangement was such that Claude had been shoved into a corner as far away from her precious son as possible.
“What about Nathan?” Claire asked. “What was he like as a kid?”
“He was a holy terror,” Angela replied. “And don’t let him tell you otherwise.”
“What are you talking about?” Nathan said, seeming genuinely bewildered. “I thought you always said I was the good one.”
“Well, you didn’t send yourself through glass doors thinking you were Superman the way Peter was known to do,” Angela said pointedly. “But you had your share of trouble. You tested the patience of every teacher and every nanny you came into contact with. You were so aggressive. Thankfully, you learned to channel that aggression into more useful endeavors as you got older. Peter, on the other hand, never learned to stop throwing himself through glass doors.”
For whatever reason, Angela looked at Claude as she said it. An uncomfortable silence fell over the room.
“Think it might be time to refresh my drink,” Claude said, desperate to escape the weight of her gaze. “Anyone else need anything while I’m up?”
Everyone shook their heads and so Claude made his way into the kitchen where they’d left the open bottles of liquor earlier. Dumping the warmed contents of his glass down the drain, Claude took a moment to enjoy the solitude before he realized he wasn’t alone.
“You don’t seem like the type to be easily intimidated by other people,” Angela Petrelli commented from the doorway.
“And yet I spent nearly ten years living as an invisible wanderer, content to pretend I was dead if that was what the Company wanted from me,” Claude said back. “Invisibility is handy that way.”
“I imagine that it is,” she said. She moved to the table where a bottle of white wine sat with the cork half hanging out its neck. Removing it, she filled her glass thoughtfully. “I’m not angry about Peter being with another man, if that’s what you’re so worried about.”
It was more that Claude was worried he was going to be turned to stone if he looked her directly in the eye, but he didn’t say so, instead occupying himself with the task of mixing his own drink as she sipped at hers with what he couldn’t help but think of as a sinister kind of elegance.
“I would, of course, prefer that he was with someone he could build a family with, but I learned long ago that I can’t control who Peter gives his heart to,” she said. “Or the fact that he gives it so freely.” She moved around to his other side. “It was only a few years ago that Peter decided to tell me about his less than heterosexual tendencies, but I knew long before that. Mothers always do.”
Normal mothers, maybe, Claude thought to himself. Not generally the ones who left their children to be raised by the hired help, as she apparently had.
“Nathan tells me you’ve reassured him you’re not out to exploit Peter or extort money from this family in any way,” she said. “I find that difficult to believe, but I suppose Nathan’s opinion carries some weight given that he’s not usually one to allow another man to encroach on his territory when it comes to Peter.”
The sound of laughter rose up from the living room where everyone else still sat. Glancing in that direction, Claude saw Claire affecting an embarrassed look and knew the laughter had probably been inspired by a story she was telling. Peter smiled along with everyone but kept shooting nervous looks in the direction of the kitchen.
“Peter is a foolish boy,” Angela continued after a moment. “Easily led. Easily manipulated. More powerful than I hope he ever knows.”
Claude met her eyes then as, with that last observation, the penny dropped and he began to understand what it was she was getting at.
“I always knew my children would be special,” she said with no small amount of pride before her expression darkened. “But the day I found out the exact nature of Peter’s gift was one of the worst days of my life. Worse even than knowing that his eliminating half the population of New York was a necessary evil in the fight for the greater good.” She took a quavering breath. “The day he decided to give up those powers, I had no regrets whatsoever. And neither did he.”
“Is that so?” Claude asked.
“That’s exactly so,” she replied. She stepped closer to him, her words coming out now in staccato bursts. “You have no idea what you did, uncovering all of that for him again. No idea.” Her eyes began to brim. “You should have just let him be.”
“Let him be what?” Claude asked. “Let him be normal? Let him languish in a state of constant confusion while he spent all his time wondering about the memories he’d lost and why they were gone? Because it wasn’t just his powers that got taken away when the Haitian came to visit, in case you hadn’t noticed. It was me as well. And a couple of other people who weren’t content to let themselves be forgotten just because Peter couldn’t face the consequences of what almost happened. What you would have let happen if your other son hadn’t intervened at the very last possible second.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t you understand?” she said. “With his powers, Peter is a danger. He’s a danger to himself. He’s a danger to us all. It took the near-destruction of New York to show him that, but he understood in the end. Understood well enough to know he was better off without his powers, no matter how special they made him feel.” Her lips tightened into a thin smile. “Maybe you departed from the Company in the end, but you must recognize the philosophy behind certain aspects of what they do.”
“Aye, identify and extract from society the potentially dangerous people with special abilities,” Claude said. “Is that what you want for Peter? To see him locked away in a cell somewhere for the rest of his life?”
“If I thought it would protect him from himself, I would do it,” she said, lifting her chin. “But no, it’s not what I want for him. Why do you think I allowed him to sacrifice those few useless, painful memories in the first place? It was the best way to help him avoid that very fate.” She gave him a penetrating stare. “You took that away from him.”
“Peter made his choices,” Claude said. “He at least has a right to that.”
She stepped away from him. “I want you to remember that you said that,” she said. “Because if anything happens to that boy because of you or what you did, I will not rest until I’m satisfied that you’ve paid for it. And invisible or not, I can guarantee that you won’t be able to hide from me. Understood?”
If the threat had come from anyone else, Claude might have tossed it off with a laugh and a rude joke. But something about the way she stared at him made him feel paralyzed. All he could do was nod his head.
“Good,” she said before stepping around Claude. “I won’t lose him again.”
And with that, she left him standing alone in the kitchen.
Part Eight
Sequel to: The Price of a Memory
Pairings: Peter/Claude
Rating: R
Warnings: slash, AU, loosely holiday-related, starts out on the fluffy side but doesn’t stay that way, liberties taken with the Season Two timeline of events, possible inconsistency with canon materials not aired on television
Spoilers: AU after the end of Season One, but through Season Two just to be safe.
Summary: Six months after the events of The Price of a Memory, Claude finds himself participating under protest in a Petrelli family gathering. But more is going on than meets the eye and soon Claude and Peter are faced with a difficult decision.
Disclaimer: Heroes and the associated characters don’t belong to me.
Previous Parts: Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six
All the People We Used to Know, Part 7/12
“Then there was the movie theater,” Nathan was saying into his third glass of Scotch, practically giggling at his own memories. “That was also off-limits with the nannies. They were always told: Peter can’t behave himself at the movie theater, so don’t even bother taking him there.”
Claude didn’t know whose idea it had been to fill the uncomfortable silences by telling embarrassing stories about Peter as a child, but he was beginning to think the amount of blackmail material he’d been able to gather in the past few hours alone was well worth being stuck in a room with the formidable Angela Petrelli.
“I don’t remember that at all,” Peter said, cheeks aflame with the combination of alcohol and embarrassment. And they hadn’t even brought out the baby pictures yet.
“No, it’s true,” Angela Petrelli said, breaking into the conversation. “Something about the dark and the noise. You used to get anxious and start crying. It was embarrassing.” She took a sip from her own nearly-empty wine glass. “Besides that, I didn’t want your nannies taking you to see those awful Disney cartoons. If they took you out at all, I preferred that they brought you to the museum or the park. Somewhere educational.”
“The museum?” Claire said from beside Claude. “It doesn’t seem like a little kid would be any better behaved there than at the movie theater.” Claire had managed to relax a bit since the initial terror of being reintroduced to her biological grandmother. But the hesitancy with which this observation was offered served to remind Claude once again that it wasn’t just Nathan the girl had been trying to get away from when she’d jumped out that window a year ago in New York.
“No, Peter was fascinated by the museum,” Angela replied. “He was in awe of it.”
“Yes, Ma, we all know Pete was very cultured from a very young age,” Nathan said, rolling his eyes.
“Well, he was,” Angela said, reaching up to tuck a strand of Peter’s hair behind his ear. A strangely affectionate gesture from a woman who made a block of ice look cuddly.
If meeting Angela Petrelli again wasn’t as bad as Claude had originally envisioned, it wasn’t at all because she was a less frightening person than he’d built her up to be in his mind. No, small as she was, she was still the most intimidating thing in the room. Or in a fifty mile radius, for that matter. But Peter’s mother had been too wrapped up in making amends with her estranged granddaughter to pay Claude much mind when they’d been introduced upon her arrival. She’d raised an eyebrow sharply at him, shook his hand twice and moved on to better things. At the time, Claude had felt almost good about himself, like he’d passed some sort of test. This was before Peter informed him that she’d saved her criticism for a silent exchange of thoughts with her son. Claude had since learned that Angela Petrelli’s hostility was a bit more passive aggressive than he’d anticipated. She wasn’t clawing his eyes out with her nails or anything but she’d made damn sure the seating arrangement was such that Claude had been shoved into a corner as far away from her precious son as possible.
“What about Nathan?” Claire asked. “What was he like as a kid?”
“He was a holy terror,” Angela replied. “And don’t let him tell you otherwise.”
“What are you talking about?” Nathan said, seeming genuinely bewildered. “I thought you always said I was the good one.”
“Well, you didn’t send yourself through glass doors thinking you were Superman the way Peter was known to do,” Angela said pointedly. “But you had your share of trouble. You tested the patience of every teacher and every nanny you came into contact with. You were so aggressive. Thankfully, you learned to channel that aggression into more useful endeavors as you got older. Peter, on the other hand, never learned to stop throwing himself through glass doors.”
For whatever reason, Angela looked at Claude as she said it. An uncomfortable silence fell over the room.
“Think it might be time to refresh my drink,” Claude said, desperate to escape the weight of her gaze. “Anyone else need anything while I’m up?”
Everyone shook their heads and so Claude made his way into the kitchen where they’d left the open bottles of liquor earlier. Dumping the warmed contents of his glass down the drain, Claude took a moment to enjoy the solitude before he realized he wasn’t alone.
“You don’t seem like the type to be easily intimidated by other people,” Angela Petrelli commented from the doorway.
“And yet I spent nearly ten years living as an invisible wanderer, content to pretend I was dead if that was what the Company wanted from me,” Claude said back. “Invisibility is handy that way.”
“I imagine that it is,” she said. She moved to the table where a bottle of white wine sat with the cork half hanging out its neck. Removing it, she filled her glass thoughtfully. “I’m not angry about Peter being with another man, if that’s what you’re so worried about.”
It was more that Claude was worried he was going to be turned to stone if he looked her directly in the eye, but he didn’t say so, instead occupying himself with the task of mixing his own drink as she sipped at hers with what he couldn’t help but think of as a sinister kind of elegance.
“I would, of course, prefer that he was with someone he could build a family with, but I learned long ago that I can’t control who Peter gives his heart to,” she said. “Or the fact that he gives it so freely.” She moved around to his other side. “It was only a few years ago that Peter decided to tell me about his less than heterosexual tendencies, but I knew long before that. Mothers always do.”
Normal mothers, maybe, Claude thought to himself. Not generally the ones who left their children to be raised by the hired help, as she apparently had.
“Nathan tells me you’ve reassured him you’re not out to exploit Peter or extort money from this family in any way,” she said. “I find that difficult to believe, but I suppose Nathan’s opinion carries some weight given that he’s not usually one to allow another man to encroach on his territory when it comes to Peter.”
The sound of laughter rose up from the living room where everyone else still sat. Glancing in that direction, Claude saw Claire affecting an embarrassed look and knew the laughter had probably been inspired by a story she was telling. Peter smiled along with everyone but kept shooting nervous looks in the direction of the kitchen.
“Peter is a foolish boy,” Angela continued after a moment. “Easily led. Easily manipulated. More powerful than I hope he ever knows.”
Claude met her eyes then as, with that last observation, the penny dropped and he began to understand what it was she was getting at.
“I always knew my children would be special,” she said with no small amount of pride before her expression darkened. “But the day I found out the exact nature of Peter’s gift was one of the worst days of my life. Worse even than knowing that his eliminating half the population of New York was a necessary evil in the fight for the greater good.” She took a quavering breath. “The day he decided to give up those powers, I had no regrets whatsoever. And neither did he.”
“Is that so?” Claude asked.
“That’s exactly so,” she replied. She stepped closer to him, her words coming out now in staccato bursts. “You have no idea what you did, uncovering all of that for him again. No idea.” Her eyes began to brim. “You should have just let him be.”
“Let him be what?” Claude asked. “Let him be normal? Let him languish in a state of constant confusion while he spent all his time wondering about the memories he’d lost and why they were gone? Because it wasn’t just his powers that got taken away when the Haitian came to visit, in case you hadn’t noticed. It was me as well. And a couple of other people who weren’t content to let themselves be forgotten just because Peter couldn’t face the consequences of what almost happened. What you would have let happen if your other son hadn’t intervened at the very last possible second.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t you understand?” she said. “With his powers, Peter is a danger. He’s a danger to himself. He’s a danger to us all. It took the near-destruction of New York to show him that, but he understood in the end. Understood well enough to know he was better off without his powers, no matter how special they made him feel.” Her lips tightened into a thin smile. “Maybe you departed from the Company in the end, but you must recognize the philosophy behind certain aspects of what they do.”
“Aye, identify and extract from society the potentially dangerous people with special abilities,” Claude said. “Is that what you want for Peter? To see him locked away in a cell somewhere for the rest of his life?”
“If I thought it would protect him from himself, I would do it,” she said, lifting her chin. “But no, it’s not what I want for him. Why do you think I allowed him to sacrifice those few useless, painful memories in the first place? It was the best way to help him avoid that very fate.” She gave him a penetrating stare. “You took that away from him.”
“Peter made his choices,” Claude said. “He at least has a right to that.”
She stepped away from him. “I want you to remember that you said that,” she said. “Because if anything happens to that boy because of you or what you did, I will not rest until I’m satisfied that you’ve paid for it. And invisible or not, I can guarantee that you won’t be able to hide from me. Understood?”
If the threat had come from anyone else, Claude might have tossed it off with a laugh and a rude joke. But something about the way she stared at him made him feel paralyzed. All he could do was nod his head.
“Good,” she said before stepping around Claude. “I won’t lose him again.”
And with that, she left him standing alone in the kitchen.
Part Eight