Fic Exchange -- Written for jessicalynn8383
Title: Unconditional
Rating: G
Pairing: Nathan/Heidi
Spoilers/Warnings (if any): Through 1.23.
Prompts:
1) Heidi still in the wheelchair, and it's not the end of the world.
2) Nathan learning to love Heidi as she is, chair and all.
3) A story where Nathan *isn't* an asshole who sells his soul for political gain?
Summary: He had one person who was always patient, always there for him; who loved him unconditionally.
-
The faint sound of rubber wheels gliding over smooth, marble floor was a familiar one to Nathan Petrelli. As he worked, he would lean back in his oversized leather chair, pause, and just listen to the busy hum that ran over the floor. It reminded him of his wife's laugh and the way her hair smelled like honey and almonds. It reminded him of the way she would bite her lip when she'd concentrate and how her eyes lit up when he bought her day lilies.
That was the very essence of Heidi Petrelli.
The essence of Heidi Petrelli was in the excited way she would read stories to Monty, creating fantastic voices for each and every character. The hint of a smile that would flash across her eyes when Simon brought home a frog, or a lizard, even as she scolded him. The way she would tuck them both into bed each night and kiss them on their foreheads, over their groans and protests.
It was the way she'd stood by him throughout his entire political career, always trusting, always loving, always supportive. The way she whispered "I love you," every night he was home, before she fell asleep. She put up with his crazy, overbearing mother and his fanciful dreamer of a brother, and always with calm and grace.
It was the way she loved him when he didn't deserve it.
She'd caught Claire healing once, when she'd visited them. (She'd warmed up to Claire recently; forgiven him for keeping her a secret - talk about loving him when he didn't deserve it.) They'd been baking cookies with the "help" of Simon and Monty, and Claire had burned herself. Burned herself for a few brief moments, then healed. She hadn't said anything to Claire then, but she'd come to his office that night, scared and confused.
He'd never felt such terror in his life.
He'd leaned nervously back in that old, leather chair and explained everything. He saw her eyes narrow in doubt then eventually widen in understanding. He'd asked for her forgiveness, and she'd given it, like she always did. He wonders what he would have done if she hadn't believed him, if she'd left him. He doesn't like thinking about it.
His life wasn't a stable one. He could fly. His brother had exploded. His daughter was invincible. He'd won a rigged election, and was constantly fighting to get out from under his mother's thumb. His life was a facade of normality covering the turbulent reality. Heidi was his rock, his refuge. The one thing in his life that he'd always understood. Her love, her forgiveness, her joy; they kept him going. She kept him sane.
The sound of wheels gliding over the floor was a familiar one to Nathan Petrelli. It let him hear when she was near him, and it was an unspeakable comfort. Simply sensing her presence was enough for him. It was all he needed. It was all he'd ever needed.
Rating: G
Pairing: Nathan/Heidi
Spoilers/Warnings (if any): Through 1.23.
Prompts:
1) Heidi still in the wheelchair, and it's not the end of the world.
2) Nathan learning to love Heidi as she is, chair and all.
3) A story where Nathan *isn't* an asshole who sells his soul for political gain?
Summary: He had one person who was always patient, always there for him; who loved him unconditionally.
-
The faint sound of rubber wheels gliding over smooth, marble floor was a familiar one to Nathan Petrelli. As he worked, he would lean back in his oversized leather chair, pause, and just listen to the busy hum that ran over the floor. It reminded him of his wife's laugh and the way her hair smelled like honey and almonds. It reminded him of the way she would bite her lip when she'd concentrate and how her eyes lit up when he bought her day lilies.
That was the very essence of Heidi Petrelli.
The essence of Heidi Petrelli was in the excited way she would read stories to Monty, creating fantastic voices for each and every character. The hint of a smile that would flash across her eyes when Simon brought home a frog, or a lizard, even as she scolded him. The way she would tuck them both into bed each night and kiss them on their foreheads, over their groans and protests.
It was the way she'd stood by him throughout his entire political career, always trusting, always loving, always supportive. The way she whispered "I love you," every night he was home, before she fell asleep. She put up with his crazy, overbearing mother and his fanciful dreamer of a brother, and always with calm and grace.
It was the way she loved him when he didn't deserve it.
She'd caught Claire healing once, when she'd visited them. (She'd warmed up to Claire recently; forgiven him for keeping her a secret - talk about loving him when he didn't deserve it.) They'd been baking cookies with the "help" of Simon and Monty, and Claire had burned herself. Burned herself for a few brief moments, then healed. She hadn't said anything to Claire then, but she'd come to his office that night, scared and confused.
He'd never felt such terror in his life.
He'd leaned nervously back in that old, leather chair and explained everything. He saw her eyes narrow in doubt then eventually widen in understanding. He'd asked for her forgiveness, and she'd given it, like she always did. He wonders what he would have done if she hadn't believed him, if she'd left him. He doesn't like thinking about it.
His life wasn't a stable one. He could fly. His brother had exploded. His daughter was invincible. He'd won a rigged election, and was constantly fighting to get out from under his mother's thumb. His life was a facade of normality covering the turbulent reality. Heidi was his rock, his refuge. The one thing in his life that he'd always understood. Her love, her forgiveness, her joy; they kept him going. She kept him sane.
The sound of wheels gliding over the floor was a familiar one to Nathan Petrelli. It let him hear when she was near him, and it was an unspeakable comfort. Simply sensing her presence was enough for him. It was all he needed. It was all he'd ever needed.