Fic: Obstacles
For my birthday today, I hosted a bunch, saw a movie, and am now huddled under the covers gorging myself on fanfic. It is a good way to spend a day.
I wrote 9 short fics for fandom_stocking, all of which will be posted here in due course. They include Heroes, Trek, and Sherlock fic! Yay! Let's start with some Heroes, shall we?
Title: Obstacles
Fandom: Heroes
Rating: PG (Yes, I wrote GEN!)
Characters: Peter, Matt Parkman, D.L., Monica, Daphne, a few other guest appearances
Notes: Written for mumbelmutter for this year’s fandom_stocking. They asked for team fic.
Summary: Peter has some minor trouble on a training run with his team.
Peter impacted the ground hard on the other side of the wall, but he rolled just in time to avoid Dawson as she hit the ground and dropped to a crouch. “You good?” she asked.
Peter grunted in acknowledgement. She reached down a hand to pull him up, and together they ran to the next obstacle: the pit. It was Peter’s turn to take a knee, unsling his rifle, and cover the part of the course they’d just passed.
Parkman landed over the wall and stumbled, but recovered his footing quickly. Millbrook came over the wall right after him and yelled, “Pursuit!”
Damn. That put Peter in the rear-guard. Millbrook flew past Peter, jumped into the pit, sloshed through, and was climbing out the far side before Parkman had made it to Peter.
From ahead, he heard Hawkins’ call of, “Regroup! On me!”
Peter kept his eyes trained on their backtrail while he listened to Parkman wade through the pit and, cursing, pull himself out. He waited for Parkman’s call of, “Got it,” before he dropped his guard, made his own leap into the tepid, brackish water and waded across.
As Peter pulled himself out of the pit, he could see the squad forming up around the ramp obstacle ahead, ready to meet the pursuit. He staggered to his feet and had just passed Parkman when he heard the faint rattle of gunfire behind them.
“Fall back!”
Peter knew he should keep running, but he couldn’t help a quick glance behind him to check Parkman’s position: fallen on his side, but efficiently loading another clip into his airsoft gun. Before he realized he’d decided to do it, Peter had doubled back, dropped to a couch beside Parkman, and begun returning fire to their camo-clad pursuers, who were swarming over the wall.
“FALL BACK!” Hawkins shouted again, this time with real bite.
Parkman grunted and shoved himself to his feet, only to be hit with three pellets in quick succession, right in the center of his chest. He dropped back to the ground, “dead.” Though Peter knew it was only a simulation, he couldn’t help the stab of despair that sliced through him as he saw his squad-mate drop.
“Petrelli!” Hawkins again.
Peter turned to run, and felt the sting of the air gun pellets hit his leg, his side, and his neck. Obediently, he dropped. He lay still until the pounding boots of the pursuit squad had passed him by.
After a moment, he propped up his head to watch as Hawkins, Dawson, and Millbrook sped off down the course, quickly distancing their pursuers in the fading afternoon light. The way they were flying through obstacles as if they didn’t exit, Peter had no doubt they’d finish the course without further casualties.
“You should have fallen back with the others,” Parkman called. He sat where he’d been dropped, less than ten yards away.
Peter shrugged away his embarrassment. “I thought there was time.” Or maybe his brother was right the last time he’d lectured Peter: his empathy was a liability in combat. “Sorry.”
“Next time, listen to Hawkins, okay? At least they made it out.” Parkman pointed down the course. “So that’s still points for our squad.”
“Who was the chase squad? I didn’t see.”
“Knox,” Parkman spat, not bothering to hide his disdain. “And his merry band of psychopaths. Glad Millbrook didn’t get tagged, though. We’d have never heard the end of that one.”
“Yeah, we’re lucky she’s with us now. Never really seemed like she liked them much.”
“Well, you can’t choose your squad,” Parkman said with a faint smile. Technically true, though at least in the case of their little unit, the team may as well have been hand-picked. Admin could be handy like that, when they wanted to be. Or when one of the commanding officers had a soft spot for his little brother.
Three whistle blasts sounded, signaling the end of the run. Peter jumped to his feet and followed Parkman across the grass toward the finish line.
Sure enough, Hawkins was shaking hands with Knox, and looking a little smug. His smile dropped when he saw Parkman and Peter approach.
“Well,” Knox said, picking up all the smug Hawkins had dropped. “I guess it’s easy to make it to the finish line quick when you’re two men lighter.” He glanced at Parkman. “Two and a half men, even.”
Peter saw Parkman’s jaw clench, and he could sense a fight brewing. Then Millbrook appeared beside Hawkins almost instantly, and gave Knox a sharp smile. “Aw honey, if you’re trying to say you’ll always be outrun by a squad with women on it, then yeah, I gotta agree. Maybe next time.”
Before the insults could go beyond what passed for friendly banter, Hawkins broke in. “Alright, people. Quick debrief before Sarge has his say.”
Hawkins’ squad assembled on the grass out of earshot from Knox’s group. “Okay, people. Mostly good. We were ahead of time until the fourth obstacle. The rotations went smooth, and we had good coverage all around. Millbrook, Dawson, good hustle over those last hundred meters. Parkman, you got some good shots in when those bastards came over the wall. Took out Gordon and Campbell, so you evened up the score. Petrelli--.”
“I know,” Peter said.
“Do you? Because you seem to not be getting the picture. That’s twice now you’ve disobeyed an order on the course. Medic or not, fall back means fall back. We clear?”
“Yeah. Yes sir,” Peter said. He tried not to think of the pull he felt when he saw an injury, tried not to imagine if he was actually strong enough to fight it. “Clear.”
“Good. Because if we keep losing our medic, then we got no one to patch us up. Bad for the squad, get it?”
“Yes sir.”
“Good. Now let’s go get chewed out by Sergeant Bennet.”
Peter followed the rest of his squad back toward the obstacle course, where Bennet was already shouting explicatives at Knox’s people. As Peter watched his crew grinning at each other, high on the relative success of another training exercise, he swore he’d find a way to do as Hawkins asked. If his blind impulse to help people in need endangered his squad, he would find a way to curb it. No obsession, no matter how noble, was worth putting his team in danger.
Bennet waved Knox’s team away and stalked over to their group. “Dawkins. The rest of you. That was sloppy as hell. Listen up, so you can try not to be such an embarrassment next time,” Bennet began.
From across the circle, Millbrook gave Peter a wink so fast he barely caught it. And Peter knew, no matter what Bennet was about to say, that his squad wouldn’t disown him for a snafu like today’s. And maybe, if he could get his head on straight, he could give the rest of his squad something to be proud of, too.
I wrote 9 short fics for fandom_stocking, all of which will be posted here in due course. They include Heroes, Trek, and Sherlock fic! Yay! Let's start with some Heroes, shall we?
Title: Obstacles
Fandom: Heroes
Rating: PG (Yes, I wrote GEN!)
Characters: Peter, Matt Parkman, D.L., Monica, Daphne, a few other guest appearances
Notes: Written for mumbelmutter for this year’s fandom_stocking. They asked for team fic.
Summary: Peter has some minor trouble on a training run with his team.
Peter impacted the ground hard on the other side of the wall, but he rolled just in time to avoid Dawson as she hit the ground and dropped to a crouch. “You good?” she asked.
Peter grunted in acknowledgement. She reached down a hand to pull him up, and together they ran to the next obstacle: the pit. It was Peter’s turn to take a knee, unsling his rifle, and cover the part of the course they’d just passed.
Parkman landed over the wall and stumbled, but recovered his footing quickly. Millbrook came over the wall right after him and yelled, “Pursuit!”
Damn. That put Peter in the rear-guard. Millbrook flew past Peter, jumped into the pit, sloshed through, and was climbing out the far side before Parkman had made it to Peter.
From ahead, he heard Hawkins’ call of, “Regroup! On me!”
Peter kept his eyes trained on their backtrail while he listened to Parkman wade through the pit and, cursing, pull himself out. He waited for Parkman’s call of, “Got it,” before he dropped his guard, made his own leap into the tepid, brackish water and waded across.
As Peter pulled himself out of the pit, he could see the squad forming up around the ramp obstacle ahead, ready to meet the pursuit. He staggered to his feet and had just passed Parkman when he heard the faint rattle of gunfire behind them.
“Fall back!”
Peter knew he should keep running, but he couldn’t help a quick glance behind him to check Parkman’s position: fallen on his side, but efficiently loading another clip into his airsoft gun. Before he realized he’d decided to do it, Peter had doubled back, dropped to a couch beside Parkman, and begun returning fire to their camo-clad pursuers, who were swarming over the wall.
“FALL BACK!” Hawkins shouted again, this time with real bite.
Parkman grunted and shoved himself to his feet, only to be hit with three pellets in quick succession, right in the center of his chest. He dropped back to the ground, “dead.” Though Peter knew it was only a simulation, he couldn’t help the stab of despair that sliced through him as he saw his squad-mate drop.
“Petrelli!” Hawkins again.
Peter turned to run, and felt the sting of the air gun pellets hit his leg, his side, and his neck. Obediently, he dropped. He lay still until the pounding boots of the pursuit squad had passed him by.
After a moment, he propped up his head to watch as Hawkins, Dawson, and Millbrook sped off down the course, quickly distancing their pursuers in the fading afternoon light. The way they were flying through obstacles as if they didn’t exit, Peter had no doubt they’d finish the course without further casualties.
“You should have fallen back with the others,” Parkman called. He sat where he’d been dropped, less than ten yards away.
Peter shrugged away his embarrassment. “I thought there was time.” Or maybe his brother was right the last time he’d lectured Peter: his empathy was a liability in combat. “Sorry.”
“Next time, listen to Hawkins, okay? At least they made it out.” Parkman pointed down the course. “So that’s still points for our squad.”
“Who was the chase squad? I didn’t see.”
“Knox,” Parkman spat, not bothering to hide his disdain. “And his merry band of psychopaths. Glad Millbrook didn’t get tagged, though. We’d have never heard the end of that one.”
“Yeah, we’re lucky she’s with us now. Never really seemed like she liked them much.”
“Well, you can’t choose your squad,” Parkman said with a faint smile. Technically true, though at least in the case of their little unit, the team may as well have been hand-picked. Admin could be handy like that, when they wanted to be. Or when one of the commanding officers had a soft spot for his little brother.
Three whistle blasts sounded, signaling the end of the run. Peter jumped to his feet and followed Parkman across the grass toward the finish line.
Sure enough, Hawkins was shaking hands with Knox, and looking a little smug. His smile dropped when he saw Parkman and Peter approach.
“Well,” Knox said, picking up all the smug Hawkins had dropped. “I guess it’s easy to make it to the finish line quick when you’re two men lighter.” He glanced at Parkman. “Two and a half men, even.”
Peter saw Parkman’s jaw clench, and he could sense a fight brewing. Then Millbrook appeared beside Hawkins almost instantly, and gave Knox a sharp smile. “Aw honey, if you’re trying to say you’ll always be outrun by a squad with women on it, then yeah, I gotta agree. Maybe next time.”
Before the insults could go beyond what passed for friendly banter, Hawkins broke in. “Alright, people. Quick debrief before Sarge has his say.”
Hawkins’ squad assembled on the grass out of earshot from Knox’s group. “Okay, people. Mostly good. We were ahead of time until the fourth obstacle. The rotations went smooth, and we had good coverage all around. Millbrook, Dawson, good hustle over those last hundred meters. Parkman, you got some good shots in when those bastards came over the wall. Took out Gordon and Campbell, so you evened up the score. Petrelli--.”
“I know,” Peter said.
“Do you? Because you seem to not be getting the picture. That’s twice now you’ve disobeyed an order on the course. Medic or not, fall back means fall back. We clear?”
“Yeah. Yes sir,” Peter said. He tried not to think of the pull he felt when he saw an injury, tried not to imagine if he was actually strong enough to fight it. “Clear.”
“Good. Because if we keep losing our medic, then we got no one to patch us up. Bad for the squad, get it?”
“Yes sir.”
“Good. Now let’s go get chewed out by Sergeant Bennet.”
Peter followed the rest of his squad back toward the obstacle course, where Bennet was already shouting explicatives at Knox’s people. As Peter watched his crew grinning at each other, high on the relative success of another training exercise, he swore he’d find a way to do as Hawkins asked. If his blind impulse to help people in need endangered his squad, he would find a way to curb it. No obsession, no matter how noble, was worth putting his team in danger.
Bennet waved Knox’s team away and stalked over to their group. “Dawkins. The rest of you. That was sloppy as hell. Listen up, so you can try not to be such an embarrassment next time,” Bennet began.
From across the circle, Millbrook gave Peter a wink so fast he barely caught it. And Peter knew, no matter what Bennet was about to say, that his squad wouldn’t disown him for a snafu like today’s. And maybe, if he could get his head on straight, he could give the rest of his squad something to be proud of, too.