658 Years (Fic, Peter/Claire)
Title: 658 Years
Author:
summer_cities
Rating: K
Pairing: Peter/Claire
Spoilers: None. If you've seen the show, you're good.
Summary: Claire remembers a man she knew a lifetime ago.
March 6, 2648
I saw this man who seemed so familiar. It was as if I'd known him in a past life. If reincarnation does exist, which I'm beginning to believe in more and more, then it is completely possible that I knew him in one of his past lives. Not one of mine though. I think that's highly unlikely.
You see, I'm 658 years old.
I used to round it off to about six hundred. I really couldn't remember to the year how old I was until I stopped and did the math. The truth of the matter is that when you still look like you're sixteen but you're actually one hundred and sixteen you kinda stop counting. Not that I discuss my age too frequently with anyone. In the last six and a half centuries, I've met my fair share of "special" people, but none who could live forever the way I could.
Forever. Forever is a long time when you have to spend it alone.
I have a library of journals I've kept; books and books that I've written pages and pages in all about my life and my adventures -- the indestructible cheerleader on her quest to save the world, one bad guy at a time. The adventures became less exciting once I was going on them alone. I try to remember their faces -- the old gang. Matt, Niki, Mohinder, Hiro, Molly, Micah, Nathan, Peter.
Nathan. Peter.
Nathan died so long ago, I can barely remember why, or where, or how. But I remember the look on Peter's face, and the sound of his voice while he cried.
Peter. Lord knows what's happened to Peter, or if he's even still alive. I haven't seen him for about 300 years, give or take. He hunted me down for some mission; we needed to save the world again. I regret not telling him how safe I felt knowing that I wasn't the only one still left. The truth is we barely spoke. And then we parted ways, never to hear from each other again. That was sometime in the 2330's I think.
Today is March 6, 2648, and I don't look a day older than I did the day he saved me in the halls of Union Wells High School. Peter Petrelli, my hero.
They've long since torn that building down, built a new secondary school in its place, torn that down and put another school up. But the field’s still there, although they've replaced the stadium structure and the seating. Things change in six centuries.
Peter looked older though. He looked worn. There were lines around his eyes and mouth, and his hair had dulled from jet black to a more subdued, greyer color. I think the world had dragged him down. I think he was tired of watching people make the same mistakes over and over again. He told me he finally understood why God sent the flood. He said he couldn’t wait for the next one.
Noah. Dad. I think I miss him more than most. He had his share of secrets, but he knew me better than anyone. He would have done anything to protect me, and he did. He really did. His death hit me hard. I remember where I was, and why, and how it all went down that day. And I remember Peter holding me in his arms as I screamed. I’ve had my share of lonely moments, but when I lost Dad I knew that a part of me would always be alone.
I saw a man who I swear I knew in a past life; probably one of his though, not one of mine. He had black hair and brown eyes and his mouth was slightly crooked and he looked just like the friend uncle lover hero I’d lost all those decades ago.
Then I blinked, and he was gone.
Author:
summer_cities
Rating: K
Pairing: Peter/Claire
Spoilers: None. If you've seen the show, you're good.
Summary: Claire remembers a man she knew a lifetime ago.
March 6, 2648
I saw this man who seemed so familiar. It was as if I'd known him in a past life. If reincarnation does exist, which I'm beginning to believe in more and more, then it is completely possible that I knew him in one of his past lives. Not one of mine though. I think that's highly unlikely.
You see, I'm 658 years old.
I used to round it off to about six hundred. I really couldn't remember to the year how old I was until I stopped and did the math. The truth of the matter is that when you still look like you're sixteen but you're actually one hundred and sixteen you kinda stop counting. Not that I discuss my age too frequently with anyone. In the last six and a half centuries, I've met my fair share of "special" people, but none who could live forever the way I could.
Forever. Forever is a long time when you have to spend it alone.
I have a library of journals I've kept; books and books that I've written pages and pages in all about my life and my adventures -- the indestructible cheerleader on her quest to save the world, one bad guy at a time. The adventures became less exciting once I was going on them alone. I try to remember their faces -- the old gang. Matt, Niki, Mohinder, Hiro, Molly, Micah, Nathan, Peter.
Nathan. Peter.
Nathan died so long ago, I can barely remember why, or where, or how. But I remember the look on Peter's face, and the sound of his voice while he cried.
Peter. Lord knows what's happened to Peter, or if he's even still alive. I haven't seen him for about 300 years, give or take. He hunted me down for some mission; we needed to save the world again. I regret not telling him how safe I felt knowing that I wasn't the only one still left. The truth is we barely spoke. And then we parted ways, never to hear from each other again. That was sometime in the 2330's I think.
Today is March 6, 2648, and I don't look a day older than I did the day he saved me in the halls of Union Wells High School. Peter Petrelli, my hero.
They've long since torn that building down, built a new secondary school in its place, torn that down and put another school up. But the field’s still there, although they've replaced the stadium structure and the seating. Things change in six centuries.
Peter looked older though. He looked worn. There were lines around his eyes and mouth, and his hair had dulled from jet black to a more subdued, greyer color. I think the world had dragged him down. I think he was tired of watching people make the same mistakes over and over again. He told me he finally understood why God sent the flood. He said he couldn’t wait for the next one.
Noah. Dad. I think I miss him more than most. He had his share of secrets, but he knew me better than anyone. He would have done anything to protect me, and he did. He really did. His death hit me hard. I remember where I was, and why, and how it all went down that day. And I remember Peter holding me in his arms as I screamed. I’ve had my share of lonely moments, but when I lost Dad I knew that a part of me would always be alone.
I saw a man who I swear I knew in a past life; probably one of his though, not one of mine. He had black hair and brown eyes and his mouth was slightly crooked and he looked just like the friend uncle lover hero I’d lost all those decades ago.
Then I blinked, and he was gone.