Fic: "The Lines of the In-Between" Claire/Nathan, PG-13
Fandom: Heroes
Title: The Lines of the In-Between
Characters/Pairings: Claire/Nathan, Peter and Angela mentioned
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,581
Spoilers: Up through .07%
Warnings: implications of incest, some underage implications - it's pretty light though
Notes: Done for cheer_and_fly challenge
Summary: Whether she hated him or loved him, she needed to be with him on the night before he pushed her away.
Awards from BestofHeroes
My totally surprising honorable mention for Lines of the In-Between.
The Lines of the In-Between
When he looks at her like that, her skin burns.
She’s the indestructible cheerleader, so of course it isn’t physical. His eyes don’t leave real marks - marks that just heal anyway. But there are marks, beneath the skin and way too close to the heart. Marks that just don’t fade away.
Claire knows Nathan’s looking at her to make up for lost time, to fill in the gaps when he thought his daughter was dead.
He looks at her like he’s been missing something important for a long time, and then here she is and he doesn’t know how to deal with it. It’s a bad time to deal with it, and she can tell by the burning look in his eyes he wants to throw time and space away just to embrace her a little longer - to learn about the daughter he never knew.
And when he says he’s going to send her away, Claire doesn’t feel like his daughter. With him, she feels it’s just a word, not an action. And she wishes she could believe him when he says he’s sending her away to France because he’s protecting her.
Because he loves her.
--
She sits in the living room alone; reading a magazine her grandmother gives her to keep her occupied. She gives her Harper’s Bazaar, and Claire thinks it’s one the most superficial magazines she’s ever read.
Instead, she pretends to be reading, and she occupies herself by trying to decipher the arguments between Peter, Nathan and Angela in the next room. Idly, she wonders where the Haitian is, but soon she doesn’t care - he’s scary anyway, and the Petrelli family is much more interesting.
She hears her grandmother’s stern, raspy voice reverberate against the walls of the house. Her tone is final, silencing Nathan’s voice quickly. Peter is a little bit more stubborn, and one could suggest he is even naïve and foolish to think they will keep Claire here despite the danger - and despite Nathan’s election.
It warms her that Peter comes to her defense, but she knows inside he isn’t going to win in her favor. Angela Petrelli’s ruling will be final, and her father will be more than happy to concede to her.
Shipping Claire off saves his chances for the election, after all. And such a thought leaves a bad taste in Claire’s mouth. She reminds herself to be mad at Nathan.
He certainly isn’t acting like her father - at least from the example of a father that she knows.
Though, when she thinks of her adopted father, she frowns, remembering all the things he put his family through and the sacrifices he made to let her go and have her be safe.
Tears form in Claire’s eyes. What does she know of fathers anyway?
--
Her bags are packed for her. They’re sitting on her bed in the guestroom in pristine pink luggage bags just for her. Claire can’t fathom what’s in the bags, but she knows the belongings are now hers. Clothes, accessories, and toiletries - all the things one needs to start a new life.
Before she walks toward the bags, she hears a light knock behind her, and Nathan is standing in the doorway of her bedroom, a controlled expression on his face. She wonders if he really wants her to leave, but she’s still mad at him, so it’s hard to tell.
“I’m leaving tomorrow, aren’t I?” Claire says, noticing his eyes are looking her over again.
Nathan nods, not saying anything at first, and etching the shape of her into his memory. He purses his lips, and tries to act strong - in control.
“You leave with my mother at 6 a.m. tomorrow morning.” His voice rings of placidity, but Claire can hear the emotions the flicker inside his words.
She bites her lip and then laughs a little. “I really have no say in this, do I? I just have to do whatever everyone else tells me.” She looks at him darkly and says, “I’m just supposed to sit pretty and be led around by the hand.”
“Claire…” He sighs, and for some reason, that pisses her off even more.
“Go away. I want to be alone,” she says, and her hand is already on the door, ready to shut it in his face. He stands there, backing away and still watching her until the door is finally closed.
Nathan stays to hear the first onslaught of cries, and then it takes every power in his being for him to walk away.
--
Nathan can’t sleep that night. He finally finds his daughter, meets her, and then he has to let her go again. He has to let her go when he needs her the most.
He pours a fresh glass of whiskey and settles into the seat looking out the window. Everyone else has gone to bed, but he prefers to be awake - to force himself to feel the guilt of pushing Claire away.
He can’t forget the look in her eyes the moment he said he couldn’t be with her. The moment sticks in his brain like an ice pick, and he prefers to leave it there.
Nathan treats it as his penance for already acting like a bad father to her. And he feels he’s already failed.
“Can’t sleep either?” Claire’s feminine voice filters through the stark, suffocating room, and he perks up, watching her intently as she enters.
“Yeah,” he finally answers. “I don’t want tomorrow to come.”
Claire thinks she sees a small smile, but it disappears among the overwhelming regret on his face.
“Me either.” She rubs her hands over her arms, and she looks around the room. There’s a thick silence between them, but somehow they feel comfortable with it. They haven’t got much time left together, and if this all they can get, it is good enough for now.
Suddenly, Claire turns out the lights, and she moves toward Nathan. He freezes, and then watches her movements as she sits on the floor in front of him, leaning against his legs.
“Claire, what are you…”
“Let me stay here tonight. I don’t know why… but I need to stay here,” she emphasizes her last words, and she leans her head against Nathan’s knees. She sighs in contentment, and Nathan feels her relax against him.
He feels stiff, not sure what to make of her sudden action. Though almost on reflex, he lifts his hand, hovering over her head before sliding his fingers through her hair. Somewhere in the rhythm of his touch, the motion feels natural and he can’t stop himself. He feels he should have been doing this a long time ago.
Then he hears her cry again, and his chest feels tight with a guilty heart.
“Please, don’t send me away.” Claire looks at him through the darkness, the moonlight from the window illuminating her face and shining on her wet tears. “I just found you - I just found a normal life. Please don’t send me away.”
“Claire, it’s only for a week,” Nathan whispers chidingly to her, his fingers still in her hair.
“That’s a lie and you know it,” she replies with indignation. “I’m never coming back. I can just tell.”
And when she starts to move to leave, he pulls her arm and brings her onto his lap. She gasps slightly, and then she places her hands softly against his chest. His breath is warm on her face, and Claire can feel her skin burning again.
“Hey.” He takes her face into his hands and looks at her sternly. “I promise, or I’ll bring you back myself.”
Claire’s silent at first, her cries scratching against her throat. She whimpers, “Promise?”
He nods against her, leaning his forehead against hers. She makes no move to leave his lap, closing her eyes and delighting in his touch. Instead, she leans into him, placing a light kiss on his lips.
Nathan is stunned again, not expecting such affection and certainly not expecting the feelings that are brimming in his own heated blood. He isn’t sure if she just crossed a line there, or if he should even care.
“Claire…” And the harsh, proper tones are absent from his voice, now full of uncertainty.
“I’m staying here tonight,” she announces firmly, settling against him. Nathan shifts his arms, hugging her body against him. She snakes an arm around his back, resting her other hand on his chest. She closes her eyes, letting out a content sigh.
On impulse, Nathan wants to get up and carry her to his room and have her settle there -with him, but he knows despite what Claire is making him feel, he cannot cross that line. Desperately, he wants to be near her - to come as close as he can before she’s gone again - loving and hating him as he pushes her away.
Instead, they stay like this. His mind is active for the moment, planning to wake her up in time by morning and hoping no one will walk in on such a questionable scene. He indulges himself though, letting her form fit perfectly in his lap as she slides into slumber, allowing him to hold her in such a natural, vulnerable moment.
He still can’t sleep, but he wants to. He wants to have the gift of sleeping against her body - this girl whose part of his flesh, once long gone but now fully alive.
Now fully his.
Title: The Lines of the In-Between
Characters/Pairings: Claire/Nathan, Peter and Angela mentioned
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,581
Spoilers: Up through .07%
Warnings: implications of incest, some underage implications - it's pretty light though
Notes: Done for cheer_and_fly challenge
Summary: Whether she hated him or loved him, she needed to be with him on the night before he pushed her away.
Awards from BestofHeroes
My totally surprising honorable mention for Lines of the In-Between.
The Lines of the In-Between
When he looks at her like that, her skin burns.
She’s the indestructible cheerleader, so of course it isn’t physical. His eyes don’t leave real marks - marks that just heal anyway. But there are marks, beneath the skin and way too close to the heart. Marks that just don’t fade away.
Claire knows Nathan’s looking at her to make up for lost time, to fill in the gaps when he thought his daughter was dead.
He looks at her like he’s been missing something important for a long time, and then here she is and he doesn’t know how to deal with it. It’s a bad time to deal with it, and she can tell by the burning look in his eyes he wants to throw time and space away just to embrace her a little longer - to learn about the daughter he never knew.
And when he says he’s going to send her away, Claire doesn’t feel like his daughter. With him, she feels it’s just a word, not an action. And she wishes she could believe him when he says he’s sending her away to France because he’s protecting her.
Because he loves her.
--
She sits in the living room alone; reading a magazine her grandmother gives her to keep her occupied. She gives her Harper’s Bazaar, and Claire thinks it’s one the most superficial magazines she’s ever read.
Instead, she pretends to be reading, and she occupies herself by trying to decipher the arguments between Peter, Nathan and Angela in the next room. Idly, she wonders where the Haitian is, but soon she doesn’t care - he’s scary anyway, and the Petrelli family is much more interesting.
She hears her grandmother’s stern, raspy voice reverberate against the walls of the house. Her tone is final, silencing Nathan’s voice quickly. Peter is a little bit more stubborn, and one could suggest he is even naïve and foolish to think they will keep Claire here despite the danger - and despite Nathan’s election.
It warms her that Peter comes to her defense, but she knows inside he isn’t going to win in her favor. Angela Petrelli’s ruling will be final, and her father will be more than happy to concede to her.
Shipping Claire off saves his chances for the election, after all. And such a thought leaves a bad taste in Claire’s mouth. She reminds herself to be mad at Nathan.
He certainly isn’t acting like her father - at least from the example of a father that she knows.
Though, when she thinks of her adopted father, she frowns, remembering all the things he put his family through and the sacrifices he made to let her go and have her be safe.
Tears form in Claire’s eyes. What does she know of fathers anyway?
--
Her bags are packed for her. They’re sitting on her bed in the guestroom in pristine pink luggage bags just for her. Claire can’t fathom what’s in the bags, but she knows the belongings are now hers. Clothes, accessories, and toiletries - all the things one needs to start a new life.
Before she walks toward the bags, she hears a light knock behind her, and Nathan is standing in the doorway of her bedroom, a controlled expression on his face. She wonders if he really wants her to leave, but she’s still mad at him, so it’s hard to tell.
“I’m leaving tomorrow, aren’t I?” Claire says, noticing his eyes are looking her over again.
Nathan nods, not saying anything at first, and etching the shape of her into his memory. He purses his lips, and tries to act strong - in control.
“You leave with my mother at 6 a.m. tomorrow morning.” His voice rings of placidity, but Claire can hear the emotions the flicker inside his words.
She bites her lip and then laughs a little. “I really have no say in this, do I? I just have to do whatever everyone else tells me.” She looks at him darkly and says, “I’m just supposed to sit pretty and be led around by the hand.”
“Claire…” He sighs, and for some reason, that pisses her off even more.
“Go away. I want to be alone,” she says, and her hand is already on the door, ready to shut it in his face. He stands there, backing away and still watching her until the door is finally closed.
Nathan stays to hear the first onslaught of cries, and then it takes every power in his being for him to walk away.
--
Nathan can’t sleep that night. He finally finds his daughter, meets her, and then he has to let her go again. He has to let her go when he needs her the most.
He pours a fresh glass of whiskey and settles into the seat looking out the window. Everyone else has gone to bed, but he prefers to be awake - to force himself to feel the guilt of pushing Claire away.
He can’t forget the look in her eyes the moment he said he couldn’t be with her. The moment sticks in his brain like an ice pick, and he prefers to leave it there.
Nathan treats it as his penance for already acting like a bad father to her. And he feels he’s already failed.
“Can’t sleep either?” Claire’s feminine voice filters through the stark, suffocating room, and he perks up, watching her intently as she enters.
“Yeah,” he finally answers. “I don’t want tomorrow to come.”
Claire thinks she sees a small smile, but it disappears among the overwhelming regret on his face.
“Me either.” She rubs her hands over her arms, and she looks around the room. There’s a thick silence between them, but somehow they feel comfortable with it. They haven’t got much time left together, and if this all they can get, it is good enough for now.
Suddenly, Claire turns out the lights, and she moves toward Nathan. He freezes, and then watches her movements as she sits on the floor in front of him, leaning against his legs.
“Claire, what are you…”
“Let me stay here tonight. I don’t know why… but I need to stay here,” she emphasizes her last words, and she leans her head against Nathan’s knees. She sighs in contentment, and Nathan feels her relax against him.
He feels stiff, not sure what to make of her sudden action. Though almost on reflex, he lifts his hand, hovering over her head before sliding his fingers through her hair. Somewhere in the rhythm of his touch, the motion feels natural and he can’t stop himself. He feels he should have been doing this a long time ago.
Then he hears her cry again, and his chest feels tight with a guilty heart.
“Please, don’t send me away.” Claire looks at him through the darkness, the moonlight from the window illuminating her face and shining on her wet tears. “I just found you - I just found a normal life. Please don’t send me away.”
“Claire, it’s only for a week,” Nathan whispers chidingly to her, his fingers still in her hair.
“That’s a lie and you know it,” she replies with indignation. “I’m never coming back. I can just tell.”
And when she starts to move to leave, he pulls her arm and brings her onto his lap. She gasps slightly, and then she places her hands softly against his chest. His breath is warm on her face, and Claire can feel her skin burning again.
“Hey.” He takes her face into his hands and looks at her sternly. “I promise, or I’ll bring you back myself.”
Claire’s silent at first, her cries scratching against her throat. She whimpers, “Promise?”
He nods against her, leaning his forehead against hers. She makes no move to leave his lap, closing her eyes and delighting in his touch. Instead, she leans into him, placing a light kiss on his lips.
Nathan is stunned again, not expecting such affection and certainly not expecting the feelings that are brimming in his own heated blood. He isn’t sure if she just crossed a line there, or if he should even care.
“Claire…” And the harsh, proper tones are absent from his voice, now full of uncertainty.
“I’m staying here tonight,” she announces firmly, settling against him. Nathan shifts his arms, hugging her body against him. She snakes an arm around his back, resting her other hand on his chest. She closes her eyes, letting out a content sigh.
On impulse, Nathan wants to get up and carry her to his room and have her settle there -with him, but he knows despite what Claire is making him feel, he cannot cross that line. Desperately, he wants to be near her - to come as close as he can before she’s gone again - loving and hating him as he pushes her away.
Instead, they stay like this. His mind is active for the moment, planning to wake her up in time by morning and hoping no one will walk in on such a questionable scene. He indulges himself though, letting her form fit perfectly in his lap as she slides into slumber, allowing him to hold her in such a natural, vulnerable moment.
He still can’t sleep, but he wants to. He wants to have the gift of sleeping against her body - this girl whose part of his flesh, once long gone but now fully alive.
Now fully his.