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starsthatshineName: The Essential
Rating: PG
Pairings: Peter/Elle (friendship but you can look at it like subtext), a pinch of Sylar/Mohinder/Matt subtext (with emphasis on the latter part of the trio because I had to cut a scene in the end), and some Peter/Nathan subtext (but can be seen as "gen" as well). This fic isn't really a shippy one. Sort of. I'm just playing around with the toys that S2 has given me.
Summary: In the aftermath of Powerless, everything changes. Fundamentally.
Notes: As mentioned before, not your average shippy fic but I can add a Mylar scene as a sort of extra little something-something, if you want to, that I had to cut because after that the fic span out of control and had life of its own. Leave comments if you're interested in that extra part (because one can never have too many Mylar confrontations ^^). Also, excuse the title.
Spoilers: 2x11 Powerless
Peter watched as his brother fell to the floor. Falling against him like a deck of cards. He merely watched and didn't react, until he saw the blood. Hadn't reacted before he realized, before his brain had convinced his heart that he wasn't dreaming.
Silently he cursed his ignorance, clutching to his brother like it was the only way he knew how to breathe. He should've realized sooner... He...
He hadn't seen him for so long and now when they were finally together, Nathan was being ripped from his hold and he could do nothing but watch. Nothing he could do. He had no blood that could heal, no way of restoring his brother to the shape he deserved. How he wished their places had been switched, how he wished it was he who could fly and Nathan could heal.
As the paramedics came and just before he got into the ambulance, Peter bent down and whispered in Nathan's ear that if he ever left, he would never forgive him.
What he really intended to say was that he loved him, but the words got mixed up along the way. If he did leave, Peter knew it was probably the worst thing he could ever say, just because it could be the last thing he would ever said to his brother. And it would've lies.
Peter always forgave Nathan, that was how it was.
*******
Mohinder stood in his apartment, his suitcase flung open and his clothes scattered within in no particular order or logic. He wanted to stay with Molly and Matt but he also knew what a monster Sylar was, and now he was free, and he needed to be stopped. It seemed that for every second that passed, that voice grew stronger and firmer as if to call out troops to war. When he had been little, Mohinder had been a child of forgiveness and understanding, but now it seemed as if those parts of his personality had been completely demolished.
The more he saw of the world and its evil, the less understanding he became. How so many things came down to the choice of will and yet there were always those that chose wrong.
He sighed, lowering his head, trying to make sense of his thoughts, as the door opened and Matt came through the door. The policeman surveyed the scientist carefully, composing himself and chose his words with care.
"Where are you off to then?" His voice was supposed to sound light and easy but instead it sounded heavy and strained. How he hated being the woman in this relationship.
It was a switch flipped inside Mohinder's mind and suddenly he was certain. "I can't stay here. Not while he's out there."
"Don't you think you're jumping a little to conclusions?"
Before he could continue being sensible, Mohinder cut him off, glaring at him as if he just suggested that Sylar would be an excellent babysitter for Molly.
"Ju- Jumping to conclusions?! He ran off with the cure! He's not infected any more and he could be out there - murdering people! - and you think I'm jumping to conclusions? Someone has to stop him!" He resumed packing, filled with conviction.
"And you think you're the guy that's going to stop him?" Matt wasn't even going to honour the insanity with his thoughts on the matter. Sometimes Mohinder's stupidity stunned him.
But sedatives only work for a short while. "What about Molly? Huh? Did you think about her? She adores you, Mohinder, and now you're just going to leave her to hunt down the person who killed her parents. No, you know... Forget about Molly, what about me? I... I can't raise Molly by myself. I can barely keep a pet and what you're asking me to do... I can't do it by myself."
Every time he admitted he couldn't do something, when he came to face that gruesome reality, a little bit of his heart darkened and something inside him seemed to burn.
"I can't just let Sylar go either. Not after everything he's done."
Matt looked at Mohinder as he said it, and then it dawned on him, hit him in the face like a punch as he gazed into Mohinder's eyes and saw that burning, that dark flame that consumed him. Sylar was an obsession, a parasite gnawing at his soul and he would never have peace of mind if he laid it to rest.
"Fine. Go. But don't come waltzing back expecting open arms. We - Molly - can't just put her life on hold until you decide to come back. I can't raise her always keeping one eye at the door expecting you to come back. You need to make a decision. Are you in or are you out?"
Mohinder, holding one of his few pink shirts, hesitated, letting the flannel fabric hover over the suitcase. Then something resembling true regret came over his face.
"I have to."
Matt nodded, his lips nothing but a thin line. "I get it. I do. I get it." Then, without a word, he turned around and slammed the door behind him.
He did get it. That was the problem.
*********
She came lingering out of nowhere. At first, she was lurking behind a corner, just out of sight, watching his fame as he watched over his brother. Of course, he couldn't see him since he was still in surgery, being operated on... The verb 'experiment' came to mind but for a moment Elle forgot that wasn't what normal people did and that Nathan Petrelli wasn't her and she had to remind herself of that.
He didn't have her life.
So she stood there for a moment, gazing into a life she wasn't really a part of. She never had any brothers or sisters - she had never thought about it before - so it was just her... and Dad. Mom was out of the picture a long time ago. Couldn't deal he said, but Elle wasn't sure. She couldn't really be sure of anything any more.
She didn't want to say hi, she really didn't. She hated him a little bit. She liked him maybe a little bit too, a microscopic bit, and that was confusing.
Then for no apparent reason, Peter Petrelli turned around and looked at her. He didn't seem that surprised to see her but maybe that was because he was all out of surprise. Had enough of them for one day.
"What are you doing here?" His voice accusing her, hating her a little bit, but Elle didn't really care. She felt sorry for him somehow.
"I was in the neighbourhood. Heard about what happened. Sorry."
The last time they'd seen each other, well... they had left things a bit awkward. Peter turned to stare at the door as if it would help. She joined him. Maybe she could calm her own doubts a little. Peter had been so calm and collected before, when she was watching him, and maybe she could find a bit of that serenity too.
Elle felt like a better person standing there, she thought it was so anyway, she wasn't sure, but she liked it nonetheless. Peter on the other hand, was sick with worry and his head going in eight directions at the same time. But having someone there, even if it wasn't who he wanted it to be, was comforting.
When she came back with a cup of coffee for him, he didn't want to drink it. He couldn't drink when it felt like he was like this. It was like his soul was sick with an unknown disease. The blonde glanced down at the cup, her cheeks filling with a hazy shade of red, feeling as though she hated herself. She never got things right. Always mixed it up, did the wrong thing and screwed up. She was ugly, stupid and... completely thinking about the wrong things. She was disconnected to everything, even to herself, and she hated herself for it.
"I'm sorry," she paused, not sure of what to say, "I haven't done anything to it, I promise."
Peter glanced up at her, something playing in his eyes and it was as if he was laughing at her, inside. He probably thought she was being dumb, but Elle laughed at it rather than let it bother her. She smiled and felt a little bit better.
**********
"Molly, listen to me. I have to go," Mohinder put his hands on her shoulders, looking her steadily in the eye as he almost sat on the floor trying to level with her. "And I don't know when I'll be back."
Molly smiled, a bit uncertainly but there was a denial in her eyes of what was happening. "That's okay, I'll see you when you'll get back." She could feel the vibes that danced around the air like electricity but she had yet to learn what it meant.
"That's just it, Molly. I don't know when I'll be back. In all likelihood, I'm going to be away for a long time. I don't want you to wait for me, because that's not fair to you. When I'm done, I'll come and visit you, but as it is right now, I can't take care of you."
He felt like a bastard for saying it.
Molly's eyes began to well with tears. It stung inside his heart and he wanted nothing more than to lash out at whatever caused her pain. But he had to.
As the door closed behind him and Mohinder began to walk away from Matt's apartment with his one brown suitcase, he realized that he had become his father. That he was putting Molly through what he had vowed for years never to do to anyone. Abandon them. He really was his father's son.
********
"I'm going to be a better person," Elle announced while sipping on her own espresso - her third. If it was possible to get stoned on coffee, she was certain she was reaching that point.
"Yeah. Me too." Peter glanced at her momentarily, sarcasm flowing in his words as if he didn't believe her. He turned back to stare at the door. At least he sat down on one of the chairs. That was something, Elle supposed.
"Isn't this how good people feel like?" She felt stupid for asking but if anyone held it against her later, she would blame the caffeine.
"Like what?"
He had bigger things to think about, whereas for Elle, the feeling of being good was thing just big enough for her to think about.
"Like..." It was a feeling, and feelings were tricky because they could be deceptive, and Elle didn't really have a way with words.
Sometimes it felt like she was born with a foot in her mouth and could never say anything right. But filled with a bizarre form of bravery which she could only explain because of the caffeine, she gave it a try. "Like you're laying at a beach somewhere, no one's really there but you're not lonely and there's waves and... you just feel safe. Like that. Like you know you're doing the right thing by being the best person you can be. Like, even if you screw up, things are still going to turn out pretty okay in the end."
She slipped away, imagining that beach, almost seeing the shoreline with the waves coming up over it and almost feeling the serenity in her heart. She nodded to herself, yes, that was how she felt. Even if she was in a hospital, and she hated hospitals.
She wasn't sure when reality called her back but she realized Peter was looking it at her, in a way she had never seen anyone stare at another before. There wasn't any emotion in his eye but it was almost as if he could see the shore too. He looked away again, lowered his head and seemed ashamed as if he remembered something bad.
"I dunno," He swallowed, "I've forgotten that feeling." The latter he said with such a loud, clear voice that Elle stared at him in admiration. She wasn't sure why, there was just something about him. Like she'd learned something about him but wasn't sure what.
Elle looked back at the door, watching the door for him, in case any of the doctors came, so that Peter could linger in his thoughts. He seemed like he needed to.
She nodded to herself in assurance. "Well, that's how it feels like." She took a taste of her coffee. It was cold.
Now there was nothing to do except wait.
***********
The end? Or do you want that little extra scene? Comment and let me know :D Also, if you just want to give some feedback on what I've written - that's more than welcomed as well :D
Rating: PG
Pairings: Peter/Elle (friendship but you can look at it like subtext), a pinch of Sylar/Mohinder/Matt subtext (with emphasis on the latter part of the trio because I had to cut a scene in the end), and some Peter/Nathan subtext (but can be seen as "gen" as well). This fic isn't really a shippy one. Sort of. I'm just playing around with the toys that S2 has given me.
Summary: In the aftermath of Powerless, everything changes. Fundamentally.
Notes: As mentioned before, not your average shippy fic but I can add a Mylar scene as a sort of extra little something-something, if you want to, that I had to cut because after that the fic span out of control and had life of its own. Leave comments if you're interested in that extra part (because one can never have too many Mylar confrontations ^^). Also, excuse the title.
Spoilers: 2x11 Powerless
Peter watched as his brother fell to the floor. Falling against him like a deck of cards. He merely watched and didn't react, until he saw the blood. Hadn't reacted before he realized, before his brain had convinced his heart that he wasn't dreaming.
Silently he cursed his ignorance, clutching to his brother like it was the only way he knew how to breathe. He should've realized sooner... He...
He hadn't seen him for so long and now when they were finally together, Nathan was being ripped from his hold and he could do nothing but watch. Nothing he could do. He had no blood that could heal, no way of restoring his brother to the shape he deserved. How he wished their places had been switched, how he wished it was he who could fly and Nathan could heal.
As the paramedics came and just before he got into the ambulance, Peter bent down and whispered in Nathan's ear that if he ever left, he would never forgive him.
What he really intended to say was that he loved him, but the words got mixed up along the way. If he did leave, Peter knew it was probably the worst thing he could ever say, just because it could be the last thing he would ever said to his brother. And it would've lies.
Peter always forgave Nathan, that was how it was.
*******
Mohinder stood in his apartment, his suitcase flung open and his clothes scattered within in no particular order or logic. He wanted to stay with Molly and Matt but he also knew what a monster Sylar was, and now he was free, and he needed to be stopped. It seemed that for every second that passed, that voice grew stronger and firmer as if to call out troops to war. When he had been little, Mohinder had been a child of forgiveness and understanding, but now it seemed as if those parts of his personality had been completely demolished.
The more he saw of the world and its evil, the less understanding he became. How so many things came down to the choice of will and yet there were always those that chose wrong.
He sighed, lowering his head, trying to make sense of his thoughts, as the door opened and Matt came through the door. The policeman surveyed the scientist carefully, composing himself and chose his words with care.
"Where are you off to then?" His voice was supposed to sound light and easy but instead it sounded heavy and strained. How he hated being the woman in this relationship.
It was a switch flipped inside Mohinder's mind and suddenly he was certain. "I can't stay here. Not while he's out there."
"Don't you think you're jumping a little to conclusions?"
Before he could continue being sensible, Mohinder cut him off, glaring at him as if he just suggested that Sylar would be an excellent babysitter for Molly.
"Ju- Jumping to conclusions?! He ran off with the cure! He's not infected any more and he could be out there - murdering people! - and you think I'm jumping to conclusions? Someone has to stop him!" He resumed packing, filled with conviction.
"And you think you're the guy that's going to stop him?" Matt wasn't even going to honour the insanity with his thoughts on the matter. Sometimes Mohinder's stupidity stunned him.
But sedatives only work for a short while. "What about Molly? Huh? Did you think about her? She adores you, Mohinder, and now you're just going to leave her to hunt down the person who killed her parents. No, you know... Forget about Molly, what about me? I... I can't raise Molly by myself. I can barely keep a pet and what you're asking me to do... I can't do it by myself."
Every time he admitted he couldn't do something, when he came to face that gruesome reality, a little bit of his heart darkened and something inside him seemed to burn.
"I can't just let Sylar go either. Not after everything he's done."
Matt looked at Mohinder as he said it, and then it dawned on him, hit him in the face like a punch as he gazed into Mohinder's eyes and saw that burning, that dark flame that consumed him. Sylar was an obsession, a parasite gnawing at his soul and he would never have peace of mind if he laid it to rest.
"Fine. Go. But don't come waltzing back expecting open arms. We - Molly - can't just put her life on hold until you decide to come back. I can't raise her always keeping one eye at the door expecting you to come back. You need to make a decision. Are you in or are you out?"
Mohinder, holding one of his few pink shirts, hesitated, letting the flannel fabric hover over the suitcase. Then something resembling true regret came over his face.
"I have to."
Matt nodded, his lips nothing but a thin line. "I get it. I do. I get it." Then, without a word, he turned around and slammed the door behind him.
He did get it. That was the problem.
*********
She came lingering out of nowhere. At first, she was lurking behind a corner, just out of sight, watching his fame as he watched over his brother. Of course, he couldn't see him since he was still in surgery, being operated on... The verb 'experiment' came to mind but for a moment Elle forgot that wasn't what normal people did and that Nathan Petrelli wasn't her and she had to remind herself of that.
He didn't have her life.
So she stood there for a moment, gazing into a life she wasn't really a part of. She never had any brothers or sisters - she had never thought about it before - so it was just her... and Dad. Mom was out of the picture a long time ago. Couldn't deal he said, but Elle wasn't sure. She couldn't really be sure of anything any more.
She didn't want to say hi, she really didn't. She hated him a little bit. She liked him maybe a little bit too, a microscopic bit, and that was confusing.
Then for no apparent reason, Peter Petrelli turned around and looked at her. He didn't seem that surprised to see her but maybe that was because he was all out of surprise. Had enough of them for one day.
"What are you doing here?" His voice accusing her, hating her a little bit, but Elle didn't really care. She felt sorry for him somehow.
"I was in the neighbourhood. Heard about what happened. Sorry."
The last time they'd seen each other, well... they had left things a bit awkward. Peter turned to stare at the door as if it would help. She joined him. Maybe she could calm her own doubts a little. Peter had been so calm and collected before, when she was watching him, and maybe she could find a bit of that serenity too.
Elle felt like a better person standing there, she thought it was so anyway, she wasn't sure, but she liked it nonetheless. Peter on the other hand, was sick with worry and his head going in eight directions at the same time. But having someone there, even if it wasn't who he wanted it to be, was comforting.
When she came back with a cup of coffee for him, he didn't want to drink it. He couldn't drink when it felt like he was like this. It was like his soul was sick with an unknown disease. The blonde glanced down at the cup, her cheeks filling with a hazy shade of red, feeling as though she hated herself. She never got things right. Always mixed it up, did the wrong thing and screwed up. She was ugly, stupid and... completely thinking about the wrong things. She was disconnected to everything, even to herself, and she hated herself for it.
"I'm sorry," she paused, not sure of what to say, "I haven't done anything to it, I promise."
Peter glanced up at her, something playing in his eyes and it was as if he was laughing at her, inside. He probably thought she was being dumb, but Elle laughed at it rather than let it bother her. She smiled and felt a little bit better.
**********
"Molly, listen to me. I have to go," Mohinder put his hands on her shoulders, looking her steadily in the eye as he almost sat on the floor trying to level with her. "And I don't know when I'll be back."
Molly smiled, a bit uncertainly but there was a denial in her eyes of what was happening. "That's okay, I'll see you when you'll get back." She could feel the vibes that danced around the air like electricity but she had yet to learn what it meant.
"That's just it, Molly. I don't know when I'll be back. In all likelihood, I'm going to be away for a long time. I don't want you to wait for me, because that's not fair to you. When I'm done, I'll come and visit you, but as it is right now, I can't take care of you."
He felt like a bastard for saying it.
Molly's eyes began to well with tears. It stung inside his heart and he wanted nothing more than to lash out at whatever caused her pain. But he had to.
As the door closed behind him and Mohinder began to walk away from Matt's apartment with his one brown suitcase, he realized that he had become his father. That he was putting Molly through what he had vowed for years never to do to anyone. Abandon them. He really was his father's son.
********
"I'm going to be a better person," Elle announced while sipping on her own espresso - her third. If it was possible to get stoned on coffee, she was certain she was reaching that point.
"Yeah. Me too." Peter glanced at her momentarily, sarcasm flowing in his words as if he didn't believe her. He turned back to stare at the door. At least he sat down on one of the chairs. That was something, Elle supposed.
"Isn't this how good people feel like?" She felt stupid for asking but if anyone held it against her later, she would blame the caffeine.
"Like what?"
He had bigger things to think about, whereas for Elle, the feeling of being good was thing just big enough for her to think about.
"Like..." It was a feeling, and feelings were tricky because they could be deceptive, and Elle didn't really have a way with words.
Sometimes it felt like she was born with a foot in her mouth and could never say anything right. But filled with a bizarre form of bravery which she could only explain because of the caffeine, she gave it a try. "Like you're laying at a beach somewhere, no one's really there but you're not lonely and there's waves and... you just feel safe. Like that. Like you know you're doing the right thing by being the best person you can be. Like, even if you screw up, things are still going to turn out pretty okay in the end."
She slipped away, imagining that beach, almost seeing the shoreline with the waves coming up over it and almost feeling the serenity in her heart. She nodded to herself, yes, that was how she felt. Even if she was in a hospital, and she hated hospitals.
She wasn't sure when reality called her back but she realized Peter was looking it at her, in a way she had never seen anyone stare at another before. There wasn't any emotion in his eye but it was almost as if he could see the shore too. He looked away again, lowered his head and seemed ashamed as if he remembered something bad.
"I dunno," He swallowed, "I've forgotten that feeling." The latter he said with such a loud, clear voice that Elle stared at him in admiration. She wasn't sure why, there was just something about him. Like she'd learned something about him but wasn't sure what.
Elle looked back at the door, watching the door for him, in case any of the doctors came, so that Peter could linger in his thoughts. He seemed like he needed to.
She nodded to herself in assurance. "Well, that's how it feels like." She took a taste of her coffee. It was cold.
Now there was nothing to do except wait.
***********
The end? Or do you want that little extra scene? Comment and let me know :D Also, if you just want to give some feedback on what I've written - that's more than welcomed as well :D
no subject
Date: 2008-01-05 09:13 am (UTC)Haha. The wonder of typos. I will check it out immediately :D
Yeah, it definitely does seem to be in the genes of the Suresh family to surrender everything in the name of research (or occasionally known as "greater good"). I just think that Mohinder spent so many years of his childhood trying to impress his father that at the end of the day, he couldn't help but getting a few of his father's traits as well.