Fic: Storm and Stress (1/3) [Repost]
Title: Storm and Stress
Characters: Claude, Audrey, mentions of Peter (hints of Claude/Peter if you squint although really, what did you expect from me?)
Rating: PG13
Warnings: A little violence, cursing.
Word Count: 1881
Spoilers: Through "Shades of Grey"
Disclaimer: Not mine, blah blah.
Summary: Audrey Hanson's life gets just a little more complicated.
A/N: Yes, I should be studying, but in all fairness, I wrote this ages ago. So really I'm just reposting it now. So as to be able to post the next part as well, finally. [Originally posted here.]
It was 0200 and she thought she should be feeling that more than she was.
But it was a stray thought, quick and reasonable, a whole other dimension of normal behavior than the one she was functioning on at the moment, and it disappeared as she shook her head and opened the door.
It had to; the door was heavy and the light was sharp and there was too much else to focus on.
He was there already; she registered a stir of relief that she didn’t deserve at that.
She tried to read the stance of the faceless body while she could without distractions, not even checking the case file in her hands , but the orange jumpsuit was almost painful to look at against the low-bid cinderblock blue, standard paramilitary black and basic agent navy pinstripe, and all she came up with was the unnerving sensation of being watched.
The bile in her throat rose. She pushed it back.
Nodded to the waiting guard, and the hood was gone.
“Claude Rains?” she didn’t wait for him to answer. “I have some questions for you.”
The face was about the same as on the file. Sharp features, raggedy hair. Split lip that wasn’t on file, the beginnings of a major bruise peeking past the beard, and a half-healed gash on the forehead that looked like the result of the butt of a gun.
None of it exactly shocking, given the file, given everyone else she’d seen.
But the eyes were a surprise.
Icy and focused; not the amount of rage she was getting used to, or the fear. Found it strangely comforting, initially; a regular, run-of-the-mill, confident criminal glare. And then he smiled, coolly, and it had become something else entirely.
“Bet you do,” she could see his hands working along the chains binding him to the table, almost as if it was second nature. “I could say the same,” and then he actually winked at her. “’course it’s not Claude Rains I have some questions for, is it?”
She swallowed, and sat down in front of him.
“Audrey. Hanson,” she gave half a nod, and saw it returned with a great deal more sarcasm.
And he actually went so far as to extend his hand as far as it could go which…well, what else could she do?
His fingers felt warm against hers. She didn’t want them to. She pulled her hand away and shook her head to clear it.
“Not a free agent, are you?” he continued to fiddle with the chains around his wrists, sliding his arms as far as they could go and back, only meeting her eyes at the end of the question.
“Excuse me?”
“Keep wanting to offer me somethin’, don’t you? What is it, though? A title? Reminder that I can speak to my lawyer? Cigarette?”
“No, thank you,” she said, and caught a look that part of herself wanted to call grudging respect. She made herself frown. It was easier than usual, which wasn’t saying much.
“So, Audrey. Hanson,” he smirked at her. “You had questions.”
“Yes, Mr. Rains, just a couple of quick-“
“Suppose I’ll have to answer them, then,” he kept smirking.
“Gee, thanks,” came out before she could think to censor herself, and it seemed to amuse him, even as he continued talking.
“Friends o’ yours’ll have to stay outside, though.”
“You’re not exactly in the position to dictate-“
She waved her hand at Roy, who stopped talking.
“All right, Mr. Rains, we'll do this your way,” she said, as the other two guards stepped outside. “You do know we’re being recorded, though.”
“That I do, Ms. Hanson,” he nodded, as the door clicked shut, and leaned closer to her. “You ever wonder why that is?”
“No,” she sat down again.
He leaned back in his chair and chuckled.
“Because you don’t care or because you already know?”
“I already know,” she flipped open the file in front of her. “What do you know about Peter Petrelli, Mr. Rains?”
“Dunno,” he grinned again, more dangerous than before, but almost gleeful about it. “What’s it say in that file of yours?”
“Honestly, Mr. Rains?” she flipped said file shut as exhaustedly as she could. “It says this is a waste of my time. Can you give me any reason why it’s not?”
He shrugged at her, and she laughed.
To herself, in a way she couldn’t have earlier. Because this was an interrogation that made some kind of sense. This man knew why he was there, better, probably, than she did.
“Mr. Rains, it’s been a rough couple of days-“
“Oh, has it?” he snapped. “For all of us, love. Between bein’ beaten, drugged, kidnapped, and almost dropped outta an-“
“I meant for you,” she sighed. Definitely time to play the honesty card, which was, frankly, the only one she had left that was worth anything at all. “According to this, you met Peter last October…”
“Sounds about right.”
“Would you have any idea where he might be?”
“’bout as much as you, Audrey Hanson,” his fingers had started tapping along the steel of the table and she shouldn’t have found it anything other than annoying.
“So you really are just wasting my time?”
“Said it yourself, it’s been a long couple of days,” he shrugged.
“Mr. Rains-“
“Not quite what you thought you’d be gettin’ into, was it?”
“What isn’t?”
“Any of it. All of it,” he chuckled and his voice dropped so low that she had to lean closer. “Thought you’d be helpin’ people. Thought you’d be roundin’ up the right people, keepin’ everyone else safe. Loadin’ them into planes, arrestin’ innocent people, must be hard for a law-and-order girl like yourself to deal with.”
“I don’t-“ she tried to back up and found impossibly strong fingers wrapped painfully around her own.
“I am right,” those blue eyes seemed suddenly kind, generous, almost sacred in their vastness and she didn’t think she could blink. “Aren’t I?”
“Are you…” she swallowed and concentrate as clearly as she could. Are you reading my mind?
He looked at her with more amusement than she’d seen from anyone in weeks, and let her go.
“Met a telepath, have you?” he chuckled to himself, and stared at her. “But you’re not Company. Can’t recognize one by yourself. Need a bit of confirmation.”
“Mr. Rains, if you’re just going to-“
He continued conversationally. “’s a bit like an orgasm in the end, telepathy.”
“Wait, what…” she couldn’t stop herself, and he grinned.
“If you need to ask if it happened, I can guarantee you that didn’t.”
“Funny,” she said, flatly. “Is that Company humor?”
“Bit of an oxymoron, Company humor. Not exactly high on the priority list.”
She thought of her limited interactions with the infamous Noah Bennet, and was inclined to agree.
“That my file you’ve got or just Petrelli’s?”
“Just Peter’s,” she frowned when the man laughed again. “Something amusing about Peter Petrelli?”
“Where to start, Audrey Hanson?” he kept laughing, head falling back and body shifting. “The hair? The crap-filled apartment? The rather dis’nheartenin’ need of his to mess about with things he doesn’t understand? Nah, how about this, the fact that I met the kid, spent about a week with him months ago, apparently failed to impart any lastin’ wisdom on the little sod, and because of all that, here I am today, bein’ asked about a bloke you probably know more about than I do.”
“I don’t know why you’d say that, Mr. Rains.”
“Mostly ‘cos you’ve met him at least once as well,” the man shrugged.
She didn’t even try and hide the look on her face, and the way he laughed at that made her a lot less inclined to let this go on than she had been.
“Christ, Audrey Hanson, you’d think I was actin’ in a manner that violated your civil liberties,” he grinned. “Don’t like having people pokin’ about in your head?”
“You’re still just wasting my time.”
“And you’re still here,” he answered with a smile that was not unkind.
She couldn’t help but glower in return.
“Right, then,” he sat up as much as he could, and banged his cuffs on the table.
The sound was loud enough to startle her out of her chair, even though she’d seen it coming, and loud enough that she was surprised not to see the guards outside storm in and drag him out on principle.
He seemed to be too, if she was reading his expression correctly. But he just shook his head and continued.
“Want to hear about a waste a’ time, Audrey Hanson? Chasin’ after Petrelli like he’s the holy bloody grail, that’s a waste of time.”
“Why’s that?” she said, carefully, and didn’t care that he seemed set to ignore her.
“Before all of this began, boy would’ve killed himself before so much as thinkin’ of harmin’ anyone else. Had those powers of his under decent control, had that entirely unambitious personality of his keepin’ him outta trouble, unlike the rest of his bloody family, and now you lot,” he was pointing at her, and she almost felt guiltier. “Have got him convinced he’s supposed to be some sort of rebel leader. And the boy may be an idiot, Audrey Hanson, but what he’s not is entirely stupid, and what he’s definitely not is a bloody coward. He’ll do what he thinks he has to, and all of you’ll be left payin’ for it,” he quieted for a moment, staring behind her, and then blinked. Continued at a murmur, almost as if he were talking to himself. “Most of all him. He’ll feel the worst for it.”
“But you don’t know him any better than I do,” she said, and his eyes narrowed.
And thinking back on it, she had absolutely no idea how he managed it, but he’d lunged up and had the not insignificant table thrusting towards her with enough force to have done serious damage had she not jumped back in time.
It had been enough to bring the guards back in, and Roy’s hand on her shoulder had done very little to calm her heartbeat or bring her breathing back to normal as Claude Rains let himself be dragged back to his cell.
But before he disappeared out the door, hood over his head and sedative dulling any kind of instinct or ability he might’ve put to use in escaping, he’d managed to her an appraising look, and a quick nod.
Which was why, two days and about eight hours of sleep later, she was putting in some unpaid overtime and sifting through almost fifteen years worth of Primatech files.
The subject is generally aversive to violence and human contact, she went to underline, as her cell phone buzzed, and then bleeped.
*
Characters: Claude, Audrey, mentions of Peter (hints of Claude/Peter if you squint although really, what did you expect from me?)
Rating: PG13
Warnings: A little violence, cursing.
Word Count: 1881
Spoilers: Through "Shades of Grey"
Disclaimer: Not mine, blah blah.
Summary: Audrey Hanson's life gets just a little more complicated.
A/N: Yes, I should be studying, but in all fairness, I wrote this ages ago. So really I'm just reposting it now. So as to be able to post the next part as well, finally. [Originally posted here.]
It was 0200 and she thought she should be feeling that more than she was.
But it was a stray thought, quick and reasonable, a whole other dimension of normal behavior than the one she was functioning on at the moment, and it disappeared as she shook her head and opened the door.
It had to; the door was heavy and the light was sharp and there was too much else to focus on.
He was there already; she registered a stir of relief that she didn’t deserve at that.
She tried to read the stance of the faceless body while she could without distractions, not even checking the case file in her hands , but the orange jumpsuit was almost painful to look at against the low-bid cinderblock blue, standard paramilitary black and basic agent navy pinstripe, and all she came up with was the unnerving sensation of being watched.
The bile in her throat rose. She pushed it back.
Nodded to the waiting guard, and the hood was gone.
“Claude Rains?” she didn’t wait for him to answer. “I have some questions for you.”
The face was about the same as on the file. Sharp features, raggedy hair. Split lip that wasn’t on file, the beginnings of a major bruise peeking past the beard, and a half-healed gash on the forehead that looked like the result of the butt of a gun.
None of it exactly shocking, given the file, given everyone else she’d seen.
But the eyes were a surprise.
Icy and focused; not the amount of rage she was getting used to, or the fear. Found it strangely comforting, initially; a regular, run-of-the-mill, confident criminal glare. And then he smiled, coolly, and it had become something else entirely.
“Bet you do,” she could see his hands working along the chains binding him to the table, almost as if it was second nature. “I could say the same,” and then he actually winked at her. “’course it’s not Claude Rains I have some questions for, is it?”
She swallowed, and sat down in front of him.
“Audrey. Hanson,” she gave half a nod, and saw it returned with a great deal more sarcasm.
And he actually went so far as to extend his hand as far as it could go which…well, what else could she do?
His fingers felt warm against hers. She didn’t want them to. She pulled her hand away and shook her head to clear it.
“Not a free agent, are you?” he continued to fiddle with the chains around his wrists, sliding his arms as far as they could go and back, only meeting her eyes at the end of the question.
“Excuse me?”
“Keep wanting to offer me somethin’, don’t you? What is it, though? A title? Reminder that I can speak to my lawyer? Cigarette?”
“No, thank you,” she said, and caught a look that part of herself wanted to call grudging respect. She made herself frown. It was easier than usual, which wasn’t saying much.
“So, Audrey. Hanson,” he smirked at her. “You had questions.”
“Yes, Mr. Rains, just a couple of quick-“
“Suppose I’ll have to answer them, then,” he kept smirking.
“Gee, thanks,” came out before she could think to censor herself, and it seemed to amuse him, even as he continued talking.
“Friends o’ yours’ll have to stay outside, though.”
“You’re not exactly in the position to dictate-“
She waved her hand at Roy, who stopped talking.
“All right, Mr. Rains, we'll do this your way,” she said, as the other two guards stepped outside. “You do know we’re being recorded, though.”
“That I do, Ms. Hanson,” he nodded, as the door clicked shut, and leaned closer to her. “You ever wonder why that is?”
“No,” she sat down again.
He leaned back in his chair and chuckled.
“Because you don’t care or because you already know?”
“I already know,” she flipped open the file in front of her. “What do you know about Peter Petrelli, Mr. Rains?”
“Dunno,” he grinned again, more dangerous than before, but almost gleeful about it. “What’s it say in that file of yours?”
“Honestly, Mr. Rains?” she flipped said file shut as exhaustedly as she could. “It says this is a waste of my time. Can you give me any reason why it’s not?”
He shrugged at her, and she laughed.
To herself, in a way she couldn’t have earlier. Because this was an interrogation that made some kind of sense. This man knew why he was there, better, probably, than she did.
“Mr. Rains, it’s been a rough couple of days-“
“Oh, has it?” he snapped. “For all of us, love. Between bein’ beaten, drugged, kidnapped, and almost dropped outta an-“
“I meant for you,” she sighed. Definitely time to play the honesty card, which was, frankly, the only one she had left that was worth anything at all. “According to this, you met Peter last October…”
“Sounds about right.”
“Would you have any idea where he might be?”
“’bout as much as you, Audrey Hanson,” his fingers had started tapping along the steel of the table and she shouldn’t have found it anything other than annoying.
“So you really are just wasting my time?”
“Said it yourself, it’s been a long couple of days,” he shrugged.
“Mr. Rains-“
“Not quite what you thought you’d be gettin’ into, was it?”
“What isn’t?”
“Any of it. All of it,” he chuckled and his voice dropped so low that she had to lean closer. “Thought you’d be helpin’ people. Thought you’d be roundin’ up the right people, keepin’ everyone else safe. Loadin’ them into planes, arrestin’ innocent people, must be hard for a law-and-order girl like yourself to deal with.”
“I don’t-“ she tried to back up and found impossibly strong fingers wrapped painfully around her own.
“I am right,” those blue eyes seemed suddenly kind, generous, almost sacred in their vastness and she didn’t think she could blink. “Aren’t I?”
“Are you…” she swallowed and concentrate as clearly as she could. Are you reading my mind?
He looked at her with more amusement than she’d seen from anyone in weeks, and let her go.
“Met a telepath, have you?” he chuckled to himself, and stared at her. “But you’re not Company. Can’t recognize one by yourself. Need a bit of confirmation.”
“Mr. Rains, if you’re just going to-“
He continued conversationally. “’s a bit like an orgasm in the end, telepathy.”
“Wait, what…” she couldn’t stop herself, and he grinned.
“If you need to ask if it happened, I can guarantee you that didn’t.”
“Funny,” she said, flatly. “Is that Company humor?”
“Bit of an oxymoron, Company humor. Not exactly high on the priority list.”
She thought of her limited interactions with the infamous Noah Bennet, and was inclined to agree.
“That my file you’ve got or just Petrelli’s?”
“Just Peter’s,” she frowned when the man laughed again. “Something amusing about Peter Petrelli?”
“Where to start, Audrey Hanson?” he kept laughing, head falling back and body shifting. “The hair? The crap-filled apartment? The rather dis’nheartenin’ need of his to mess about with things he doesn’t understand? Nah, how about this, the fact that I met the kid, spent about a week with him months ago, apparently failed to impart any lastin’ wisdom on the little sod, and because of all that, here I am today, bein’ asked about a bloke you probably know more about than I do.”
“I don’t know why you’d say that, Mr. Rains.”
“Mostly ‘cos you’ve met him at least once as well,” the man shrugged.
She didn’t even try and hide the look on her face, and the way he laughed at that made her a lot less inclined to let this go on than she had been.
“Christ, Audrey Hanson, you’d think I was actin’ in a manner that violated your civil liberties,” he grinned. “Don’t like having people pokin’ about in your head?”
“You’re still just wasting my time.”
“And you’re still here,” he answered with a smile that was not unkind.
She couldn’t help but glower in return.
“Right, then,” he sat up as much as he could, and banged his cuffs on the table.
The sound was loud enough to startle her out of her chair, even though she’d seen it coming, and loud enough that she was surprised not to see the guards outside storm in and drag him out on principle.
He seemed to be too, if she was reading his expression correctly. But he just shook his head and continued.
“Want to hear about a waste a’ time, Audrey Hanson? Chasin’ after Petrelli like he’s the holy bloody grail, that’s a waste of time.”
“Why’s that?” she said, carefully, and didn’t care that he seemed set to ignore her.
“Before all of this began, boy would’ve killed himself before so much as thinkin’ of harmin’ anyone else. Had those powers of his under decent control, had that entirely unambitious personality of his keepin’ him outta trouble, unlike the rest of his bloody family, and now you lot,” he was pointing at her, and she almost felt guiltier. “Have got him convinced he’s supposed to be some sort of rebel leader. And the boy may be an idiot, Audrey Hanson, but what he’s not is entirely stupid, and what he’s definitely not is a bloody coward. He’ll do what he thinks he has to, and all of you’ll be left payin’ for it,” he quieted for a moment, staring behind her, and then blinked. Continued at a murmur, almost as if he were talking to himself. “Most of all him. He’ll feel the worst for it.”
“But you don’t know him any better than I do,” she said, and his eyes narrowed.
And thinking back on it, she had absolutely no idea how he managed it, but he’d lunged up and had the not insignificant table thrusting towards her with enough force to have done serious damage had she not jumped back in time.
It had been enough to bring the guards back in, and Roy’s hand on her shoulder had done very little to calm her heartbeat or bring her breathing back to normal as Claude Rains let himself be dragged back to his cell.
But before he disappeared out the door, hood over his head and sedative dulling any kind of instinct or ability he might’ve put to use in escaping, he’d managed to her an appraising look, and a quick nod.
Which was why, two days and about eight hours of sleep later, she was putting in some unpaid overtime and sifting through almost fifteen years worth of Primatech files.
The subject is generally aversive to violence and human contact, she went to underline, as her cell phone buzzed, and then bleeped.
*