Heroes Fic: The True Cost of Life and Loss
Posted to heroes_fic
Title: The True Cost of Life and Loss
Pairing/Characters: Nathan, Mrs. Petrelli
Rating: PG13
Spoilers: Genesis to .07%
Summary: Nathan gets the call from his mother about Peter
Notes/Warnings: Read the disclaimer on my LJ
Read the Confession post following the fic to play Spot the Heroes!
"Nathan, you need to come home."
"Ma, I can't right now. Linderman…"
"Peter is dead."
A flood of adrenaline courses through Nathan all at once, igniting a painful fire of nerve endings that feels like the painting of the exploding man looks.
The fight or flight response strains against the paralysis of shock. Time stops as surely as Hiro had used his powers to make it so and Nathan stands frozen, helpless in hell.
A second later the phone clatters to the floor. Nathan follows it, collapsing bonelessly in a heap as he succumbs to the full realization.
His brother is dead.
He hears - and somehow feels - a loud buzzing in his ears, like static from a brain that cannot believe what it has heard.
Grasping at the last shreds of denial, Isaac's paintings flash before his unseeing eyes - images of Peter flying, dying in Texas and dying again in the future.
"No…" The word falls from his lips like a plea, as if merely saying it is enough to convince God to undo what has been done.
Reaching out with his mind he seeks out the connection he has always shared with his brother, the one Peter used to learn of his accident. Nathan never told Peter, but he had always had a sense of him - if he was hurt or scared or in danger.
He reaches out and feels…
Nothing.
Peter is gone.
With the last of his control slipping he fumbles for the phone.
"Ma?"
His voice cracks, broken - a reflection of the fractured self inside him.
"Dr. Suresh brought him here. Claire…"
"Claire?"
Nathan pulls the phone away and lays his forehead against the cool tile floor. The cold sinks into him, the marble and his flesh becoming one.
This can't be real - not all of this at once: powers, Linderman, Peter, Claire... This is not his life. Weeks ago he was Nathan Petrelli, politician. That man is gone - vanished. Now he's someone else - someone he doesn't recognize.
"Come home," his mother reiterates.
"I'm on my way," he chokes out perfunctorily.
He ends the call and starts to dial his campaign manager to arrange for the flight back.
He only manages a few digits before he loses it.
Grief stabs him in the chest and he doubles over, arms wrapped around himself, trying in vain to keep his insides from spilling out all over the floor.
Sobs wrack his body, each labored breath a reminder that Peter will never breathe again, each sharp pain in the heart a reminder his brother's has ceased to beat.
A part of him is dead.
He wishes he could carve out that part of his brain that was once Peter, erase the memory of their bond so it won't hurt so much.
But he loves Peter.
And Peter earned that pain.
So he lets it attack him, slashing at his skin, searing his soul, torturing him with what ifs and could have beens.
He should have protected Peter.
He failed him.
He could lie there, shattered, but he doesn't.
He pulls himself together - binding broken spirit and bloody wounds by sheer force of will - and rises.
As much as he wants to open up the window and fly home at top speed he doesn't.
Having powers killed Peter. He hates his own now.
But he has to get home.
He can think of only one thing.
He has to hold his brother in his arms one last time.
He has to tell him he loves him.
He has to tell him he's sorry.
-O-
Title: The True Cost of Life and Loss
Pairing/Characters: Nathan, Mrs. Petrelli
Rating: PG13
Spoilers: Genesis to .07%
Summary: Nathan gets the call from his mother about Peter
Notes/Warnings: Read the disclaimer on my LJ
Read the Confession post following the fic to play Spot the Heroes!
"Nathan, you need to come home."
"Ma, I can't right now. Linderman…"
"Peter is dead."
A flood of adrenaline courses through Nathan all at once, igniting a painful fire of nerve endings that feels like the painting of the exploding man looks.
The fight or flight response strains against the paralysis of shock. Time stops as surely as Hiro had used his powers to make it so and Nathan stands frozen, helpless in hell.
A second later the phone clatters to the floor. Nathan follows it, collapsing bonelessly in a heap as he succumbs to the full realization.
His brother is dead.
He hears - and somehow feels - a loud buzzing in his ears, like static from a brain that cannot believe what it has heard.
Grasping at the last shreds of denial, Isaac's paintings flash before his unseeing eyes - images of Peter flying, dying in Texas and dying again in the future.
"No…" The word falls from his lips like a plea, as if merely saying it is enough to convince God to undo what has been done.
Reaching out with his mind he seeks out the connection he has always shared with his brother, the one Peter used to learn of his accident. Nathan never told Peter, but he had always had a sense of him - if he was hurt or scared or in danger.
He reaches out and feels…
Nothing.
Peter is gone.
With the last of his control slipping he fumbles for the phone.
"Ma?"
His voice cracks, broken - a reflection of the fractured self inside him.
"Dr. Suresh brought him here. Claire…"
"Claire?"
Nathan pulls the phone away and lays his forehead against the cool tile floor. The cold sinks into him, the marble and his flesh becoming one.
This can't be real - not all of this at once: powers, Linderman, Peter, Claire... This is not his life. Weeks ago he was Nathan Petrelli, politician. That man is gone - vanished. Now he's someone else - someone he doesn't recognize.
"Come home," his mother reiterates.
"I'm on my way," he chokes out perfunctorily.
He ends the call and starts to dial his campaign manager to arrange for the flight back.
He only manages a few digits before he loses it.
Grief stabs him in the chest and he doubles over, arms wrapped around himself, trying in vain to keep his insides from spilling out all over the floor.
Sobs wrack his body, each labored breath a reminder that Peter will never breathe again, each sharp pain in the heart a reminder his brother's has ceased to beat.
A part of him is dead.
He wishes he could carve out that part of his brain that was once Peter, erase the memory of their bond so it won't hurt so much.
But he loves Peter.
And Peter earned that pain.
So he lets it attack him, slashing at his skin, searing his soul, torturing him with what ifs and could have beens.
He should have protected Peter.
He failed him.
He could lie there, shattered, but he doesn't.
He pulls himself together - binding broken spirit and bloody wounds by sheer force of will - and rises.
As much as he wants to open up the window and fly home at top speed he doesn't.
Having powers killed Peter. He hates his own now.
But he has to get home.
He can think of only one thing.
He has to hold his brother in his arms one last time.
He has to tell him he loves him.
He has to tell him he's sorry.
-O-