Nathan's Christmas Carol
Title: Nathan’s Christmas Carol
Rating: R (mostly for language and dark themes)
Summary: A bit of Heroes, a bit of A Christmas Carol - with a few changes, of course.
Spoilers: Mild S3
Disclaimer: Heroes is not owned by me, but by Tim Kring. I’m simply borrowing these characters for non-profit entertainment.
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Chapter 3/4, Present:
His watch. That shouldn’t have been there. That was all he could think. He never slept with it on. Never. Not unless something so severe had happened to cause him to fall asleep in his clothes.
It didn’t happen often but as he looked himself over he knew it had happened tonight. His shoes and tie were off but that was it. He was just on the verge of tears when he thought to call Sylar. He couldn’t know right then what was real but if Peter had died Sylar would still be awake. He would answer his cell and he would tell him. Most importantly he would understand why he was having to call him about it. Shock had been known to even effect him in the past.
“Hello?” his son-in-law answered as he pressed two of his fingers to the pounding just above his right eye.
Already Nathan knew. “Have they said any more?” he asked, still trying to piece together what exactly had been a dream and what hadn’t been.
“Just that they’ll release his body tomorrow. And Tracy came by earlier and took Claire back to Angela’s/ They’re staying there for the night, I think they’re both kind of afraid to drive right now and Claire really shouldn’t be alone right now as it is.”
Nathan nodded. “Why are you still there?”
“Someone has to be here to make sure the doctors don’t tell the press anymore than they already have,” he sighed.
“How much do they know?”
“Pretty much everything we do. Turn on your TV, it’s already on every channel. Some with breaking news stories, others just have a black ticker going along the bottom saying that ‘President Petrelli’s brother has parished,’ just sick. I know I didn’t always like him -”
“You tried to kill him more times than anyone,” he interrupted.
Sylar groaned. “That was a long time ago, Nathan. But I know. Still I never wanted it to be like this. And Claire - I don’t even know how she’s going to get through this.”
“And Angela?”
“Brave smile, as always,” he scoffed.
Nathan didn’t even bother to say goodbye before hanging up. He was losing control of his emotions again and already his balcony was looking oddly tempting. It was only three floors up but if he got lucky he could still break his neck.
“You didn’t even want to go to that dinner, did you?” he soon heard a man’s voice ask him as he stood.
His surroundings instantly changed again, this time to his bedroom that morning. Turning, he saw Linderman.
“You’re not really here,” he accused.
“Neither was Niki, you know that, Nathan,” he stated. “But that’s not the point of this journey. Look ahead. Telling Tracy you didn’t want to see your family tonight, trying to get out of it even at the last minute.”
“After everything that’s gone on over the years, why should I have wanted to go?” He was bitter now, angry, believing that he had been allowed to stay home or focus on world affairs his brother might still be alive. He wouldn’t’ have seen him, he wouldn’t have become so angry or drunk so much or stormed out of the house. For all he knew it was Peter who flipped the taxi out of his sheer rage.
“Perhaps to make peace with your brother. Perhaps to show him that he wasn’t alone -”
“He wasn’t, he never was. I know there’s part of him that knew that.”
“How is that, Nathan? Because you told him that you loved him so often? Because you actually seemed to enjoy the time you spent with him in these last few years? Because you made it a point to see him when you could? Because you told him that he was more important than your work?”
Nathan knew he had almost never done any of those things and now more than ever he was sickened by it. All those times he could have told Peter what he meant to him and now he would never have the chance.
“Let’s look back on Peter’s day,” Linderman stated, changing their surroundings again, now in Peter’s Manhattan apartment.
He was sitting on the side of his bed, lost in thought. Every so often he would glance over to the phone.
“Don’t you wonder who he was waiting to hear from?”
“What does it matter?” Nathan muttered/
“He had made Claire promise to call him if you were going to cancel. He was refusing to go unless you were there.”
“So we could have our little showdown? Yeah, that worked out real well for us both.”
“He wanted to talk to you but every time he tried to call he would hear one of your numerous secretaries tell him that you were unavailable even for family matters. Only further convincing him that nothing mattered more to you than your work. He understood that you’re a busy man, but too busy for a holiday meal together, this year that was too much for him.”
“Why? What was so important about this year?”
“Everyone else has moved on, Nathan, look,” the older man went on, now showing Nathan Sylar and Claire at their guest room of the Petrelli mansion as they got ready for dinner.
“Peter has his own life/”
“Present tense, Nathan,” he tsk-tsked. “Peter had his own life. He had his work, yes. But love? No. That he hadn’t had in some time and he certainly didn’t feel that you loved him. Sure you had saved him a few times and found yourself thankful to be in his arms the two times you yourself nearly died. But when you don’t tell a person these things, how do you expect them to know?”
Nathan didn’t want to admit this was getting to him again. It was worse that there were no ledges for him to turn to. He was trapped in this and he knew it. Then again just a half an hour ago he had stated that he deserved hell. Maybe he was getting his wish.
“And look, your doting wife,” Linderman continued as they went back to their home, now just a few hours from what Nathan had been shown already. “What’s that she’s saying?”
Nathan had never felt a need to spy on his wife, but as he listened to her conversation he knew this was as good of a time as any to start. She was still working both sides, still causing more damage that he had tried to avoid and had had to clean up after. He knew why he had married Tracy. Some of the same reasons he had married Heidi. Above all she was perfect First Lady material and had never let him forget it.
He wondered then also if she hadn’t been the one to tell his secretaries to keep Peter from being able to get through. After all if anyone could turn Nathan Petrelli back to the side of the good guys it was Peter. The deeper she drove the wedge between them the more her position would be secured.
“I never thought just talking to him would be so hard,” he heard Peter say another minute later. It took Nathan that long to realize they were back at Peter’s apartment and he was on the phone.
“I know, but maybe one of these days -”
“No, Claire, this has to end tonight. One way or another he’s gonna have to decide how important his family is to him.”
The next thing Nathan saw was the taxi. Little more than a heap of smashed, smoking metal now with shimmering bits of glass seemingly as far as the eye could see.
“Nathan,” he heard a weak voice say.
He hadn’t died on impact, Nathan immediately realized. With that he ran to the side of the taxi, trying to pry the door open, wanting to help him like he had before. But he wasn’t really there, this had already happened, his hands kept going straight through the handle. There was nothing he could do.
Peter’s voice kept growing weaker, but even with his dying breaths the only person he was calling to was Nathan. And there Nathan stood helpless, powerless, forced to watch what he knew he would never forget. And would never forgive himself for.