12:41 PM
Title: 12:41 PM.
Fandom: Dead Like Me/Heroes crossover.
Characters: George, Daisy, Peter, Nathan, Angela, Hiro.
Rating: PG-13 for brief language.
Word Count: 1,449.
Spoilers: Slight spoilers for the second season's finale.
Summary: He wondered if this was how it felt to be in Hell; to be surrounded by white and black, sickness and the dying.
Author's Note/Disclaimer: This was written for
darkmagic_luvr, who wanted a DLM/Heroes crossover with the prompt: "George has to reap a character from Heros. (including Hiro)". I just included Hiro, though - he wasn't reaped.
New York was busy; people clogging up the sidewalks, cars bumper-to-bumper clotting up the streets. George hadn't been expecting the vast amounts of people all around her, the living that she'd never have a chance to make a connection with. She kept her head down as she walked, trying to avoid contact with anyone - they were all angry, impatient, terrible people. Why anyone would want to live here was beyond her.
"Oh, look!" The southern drawl was enough to make George's skin crawl usually, but here in the ocean of faces, it was almost like a life preserver. "I could just die for this dress," Daisy crooned, pressing her hand against the glass of a store window.
George turned around and walked over to stand beside her. Every fucking store, she'd die for something. You'd think she was a cat, she thought bitterly. It was ugly; pink and frilly and way too girl, but that's what Daisy liked. She reached out and took the blonde's arm, tugging her down the sidewalk. "We're going to be late," she said.
-----
Hiro opened his eyes and found himself standing next to Peter; they were in a hospital somewhere. Peter glanced over, surprised to see the Japanese man beside him. "How'd you get here?" Hiro opened his mouth to explain and Peter shook his head. "Never mind, I'm sure I could guess."
"Why are you here?" he asked, pushing up his glasses. He glanced around the waiting room, trying to find some signal, some clue as to why he'd teleported here of all places. Peter glanced over at Hiro, fighting tears as he started pacing the hall again. There was a closed door nearby, and Hiro could hear heels clicking against the tiled floor, growing louder with each step.
Peter didn't want to explain the situation to Hiro; what did it matter, anyways? It's not like he was really connected to the family, it's not like the possible death would even affect him. What brought him here? Did he come back to inform Peter that he had another cheerleader to save, or to say that this was how it was supposed to be to save the world again? He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to get his mind to stop racing.
"Hiro Nakamura," Angela's voice filled the hallway, sharp and cutting as usual. Then, to Peter, "Why is he here?"
Peter looked towards his mother and shook his head before letting his gaze drop. She'd practically lost him once, how was it fair that her other son was now on the brink of death, unable to grasp any sliver of hope that could be there?
-----
"Scrubs?"
George looked over at Daisy, rolling her eyes at the sight of girl still wearing her impractical dress and heels. "We can't walk in in street clothes," she said. She'd never had to pretend to be something (aside from when she met Trip). This time, though, they had to play the part of nurses (doctors would be too much), and Daisy didn't seem to want to play along. "If you don't put those on, someone will suspect something. Did you see the family he had? We won't get passed claiming to be friends."
Daisy's nose scrunched up as she looked over the blue scrubs. "What if they're used? What if someone forgot to wash them?" She glanced over at George, who was already dressed and lacing up the plain white shoes she'd found.
"It doesn't matter. You can shower when we're done," she said. She stood up and crossed her arms over her chest; there was no way she'd do this without the blonde, and they were running out of time.
"They could've at least been an attractive colour," she said before giving in and undressing.
------
"Your brother," Hiro said, turning the coffee cup between his hands. "Nathan, he's been shot?"
Peter nodded, eyes focused on the boring floor, white tile after white tile, dull and colourless, prepared for death. He wondered if this was how it felt to be in Hell; to be surrounded by white and black, sickness and the dying. Was it boring and made you want to scream, just to break the silence, the monotony? Or was it really the flames and the cackling, the Devil standing watch with his pitchfork, making sure the whips are long enough and the knives are sharp enough? "Yeah," he said after a minute, running the edge of the lid on his coffee cup beneath his nail.
Angela had disappeared into the hospital room, probably hovering over Nathan, clinging to his limp hand, praying for some change. It had been a week; the man wasn't even breathing on his own, and Peter wanted to give up hope. His mother, however, refused to believe she'd lose him. She'd already lost part of him when they'd thought Peter was dead and she refused to give up the rest of him. She even shaved him daily, keeping any hair from filling in to a beard.
"Who did it?"
Peter glanced over towards Hiro. "They never found the guy," he said. He stood up, dropped his cup into the trash can and ran his fingers through his hair again. He could hear his mother's voice, soft and pleading, begging Nathan to just squeeze my hand.
-----
George walked down the hallway confidently (she couldn't play it any other way) and walked towards N. Petrelli's room. She glanced at her watch (12:37 PM) and let out a breath. No matter how many times she did this, there was always a part of her that wanted to run away, a part of her that didn't want to make it to the appointment. But whenever she thought about leaving, Rube's voice would fill her head (You know what happens, Peanut; don't mess this up) and she'd be too scared to run away. So she sucked it up, pretending that it didn't bother her, and got the job done.
Daisy, on the other hand, never seemed bothered. She was always grinning, smiling, dimples and laughter and happiness; it made George want to scream. But it passed well when they said hello to Peter and Hiro, the brother and close friend.
"We're filling in this shift," George explained, ignoring the way Peter's eyes seemed to smolder.
Daisy placed a hand on Peter's shoulder, feigning sympathy. "I'm so sorry to hear about this," she said, squeezing his arm. "We'll take care of him, I promise." George had to at least give the girl credit for her acting skills - they always helped when it came to dealing with those near the dying.
They walked into the room (Excuse us, ma'am, but we need to change your son's bedding) and closed the door after Angela left. Daisy stood guard to make sure no one came in (like a real nurse) and George walked over. She brushed aside from of the hair that had grown and fallen onto Nathan's forehead, her thumb tracing his eyebrow lightly.
"Georgia," Daisy's voice chimed, "Get it over with. I can feel the germs crawling on me."
------
The nurses were walking down the hall when Peter heard the beeping - frantic, constant, high pitched. Nurses (but not the two girls who had talked to him) came running, dodging Hiro, Peter and Angela. "Crash cart," he heard one of them call.
Through the fog of his mind, he heard them call "clear" four or five times, saw them attempt CPR to get his heart started again - tried everything they could. The last thing he heard was, "Time of death, 12:41 PM". Angela collapsed against him and his arms went around her, instinctive and protective, and Hiro stood in shock. Peter's eyes trailed down towards the two girls still walking down the hall, talking to one another.
He could hear the brunette's voice just barely (I took your soul so you wouldn't feel any pain when you died; it's time to move on) and he watched them pause, their eyes looking towards something he couldn't see. His mother in his arms sobbed as the nurses covered Nathan's body, shut off the alarms, came out to tell them they'd give them time to say goodbye. And as Peter walked into his brother's room, all he could think about was bright lights and happiness, a place where Nathan wouldn't have to worry about elections and hiding secrets, where he could finally be at peace.
Peter took his brother's hand, watching his mom cling to the lifeless body, her sobs louder and causing Peter's heart to ache. I'll take care of her, he thought, knowing that somewhere, Nathan would hear him.
Fandom: Dead Like Me/Heroes crossover.
Characters: George, Daisy, Peter, Nathan, Angela, Hiro.
Rating: PG-13 for brief language.
Word Count: 1,449.
Spoilers: Slight spoilers for the second season's finale.
Summary: He wondered if this was how it felt to be in Hell; to be surrounded by white and black, sickness and the dying.
Author's Note/Disclaimer: This was written for
darkmagic_luvr, who wanted a DLM/Heroes crossover with the prompt: "George has to reap a character from Heros. (including Hiro)". I just included Hiro, though - he wasn't reaped.
New York was busy; people clogging up the sidewalks, cars bumper-to-bumper clotting up the streets. George hadn't been expecting the vast amounts of people all around her, the living that she'd never have a chance to make a connection with. She kept her head down as she walked, trying to avoid contact with anyone - they were all angry, impatient, terrible people. Why anyone would want to live here was beyond her.
"Oh, look!" The southern drawl was enough to make George's skin crawl usually, but here in the ocean of faces, it was almost like a life preserver. "I could just die for this dress," Daisy crooned, pressing her hand against the glass of a store window.
George turned around and walked over to stand beside her. Every fucking store, she'd die for something. You'd think she was a cat, she thought bitterly. It was ugly; pink and frilly and way too girl, but that's what Daisy liked. She reached out and took the blonde's arm, tugging her down the sidewalk. "We're going to be late," she said.
-----
Hiro opened his eyes and found himself standing next to Peter; they were in a hospital somewhere. Peter glanced over, surprised to see the Japanese man beside him. "How'd you get here?" Hiro opened his mouth to explain and Peter shook his head. "Never mind, I'm sure I could guess."
"Why are you here?" he asked, pushing up his glasses. He glanced around the waiting room, trying to find some signal, some clue as to why he'd teleported here of all places. Peter glanced over at Hiro, fighting tears as he started pacing the hall again. There was a closed door nearby, and Hiro could hear heels clicking against the tiled floor, growing louder with each step.
Peter didn't want to explain the situation to Hiro; what did it matter, anyways? It's not like he was really connected to the family, it's not like the possible death would even affect him. What brought him here? Did he come back to inform Peter that he had another cheerleader to save, or to say that this was how it was supposed to be to save the world again? He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to get his mind to stop racing.
"Hiro Nakamura," Angela's voice filled the hallway, sharp and cutting as usual. Then, to Peter, "Why is he here?"
Peter looked towards his mother and shook his head before letting his gaze drop. She'd practically lost him once, how was it fair that her other son was now on the brink of death, unable to grasp any sliver of hope that could be there?
-----
"Scrubs?"
George looked over at Daisy, rolling her eyes at the sight of girl still wearing her impractical dress and heels. "We can't walk in in street clothes," she said. She'd never had to pretend to be something (aside from when she met Trip). This time, though, they had to play the part of nurses (doctors would be too much), and Daisy didn't seem to want to play along. "If you don't put those on, someone will suspect something. Did you see the family he had? We won't get passed claiming to be friends."
Daisy's nose scrunched up as she looked over the blue scrubs. "What if they're used? What if someone forgot to wash them?" She glanced over at George, who was already dressed and lacing up the plain white shoes she'd found.
"It doesn't matter. You can shower when we're done," she said. She stood up and crossed her arms over her chest; there was no way she'd do this without the blonde, and they were running out of time.
"They could've at least been an attractive colour," she said before giving in and undressing.
------
"Your brother," Hiro said, turning the coffee cup between his hands. "Nathan, he's been shot?"
Peter nodded, eyes focused on the boring floor, white tile after white tile, dull and colourless, prepared for death. He wondered if this was how it felt to be in Hell; to be surrounded by white and black, sickness and the dying. Was it boring and made you want to scream, just to break the silence, the monotony? Or was it really the flames and the cackling, the Devil standing watch with his pitchfork, making sure the whips are long enough and the knives are sharp enough? "Yeah," he said after a minute, running the edge of the lid on his coffee cup beneath his nail.
Angela had disappeared into the hospital room, probably hovering over Nathan, clinging to his limp hand, praying for some change. It had been a week; the man wasn't even breathing on his own, and Peter wanted to give up hope. His mother, however, refused to believe she'd lose him. She'd already lost part of him when they'd thought Peter was dead and she refused to give up the rest of him. She even shaved him daily, keeping any hair from filling in to a beard.
"Who did it?"
Peter glanced over towards Hiro. "They never found the guy," he said. He stood up, dropped his cup into the trash can and ran his fingers through his hair again. He could hear his mother's voice, soft and pleading, begging Nathan to just squeeze my hand.
-----
George walked down the hallway confidently (she couldn't play it any other way) and walked towards N. Petrelli's room. She glanced at her watch (12:37 PM) and let out a breath. No matter how many times she did this, there was always a part of her that wanted to run away, a part of her that didn't want to make it to the appointment. But whenever she thought about leaving, Rube's voice would fill her head (You know what happens, Peanut; don't mess this up) and she'd be too scared to run away. So she sucked it up, pretending that it didn't bother her, and got the job done.
Daisy, on the other hand, never seemed bothered. She was always grinning, smiling, dimples and laughter and happiness; it made George want to scream. But it passed well when they said hello to Peter and Hiro, the brother and close friend.
"We're filling in this shift," George explained, ignoring the way Peter's eyes seemed to smolder.
Daisy placed a hand on Peter's shoulder, feigning sympathy. "I'm so sorry to hear about this," she said, squeezing his arm. "We'll take care of him, I promise." George had to at least give the girl credit for her acting skills - they always helped when it came to dealing with those near the dying.
They walked into the room (Excuse us, ma'am, but we need to change your son's bedding) and closed the door after Angela left. Daisy stood guard to make sure no one came in (like a real nurse) and George walked over. She brushed aside from of the hair that had grown and fallen onto Nathan's forehead, her thumb tracing his eyebrow lightly.
"Georgia," Daisy's voice chimed, "Get it over with. I can feel the germs crawling on me."
------
The nurses were walking down the hall when Peter heard the beeping - frantic, constant, high pitched. Nurses (but not the two girls who had talked to him) came running, dodging Hiro, Peter and Angela. "Crash cart," he heard one of them call.
Through the fog of his mind, he heard them call "clear" four or five times, saw them attempt CPR to get his heart started again - tried everything they could. The last thing he heard was, "Time of death, 12:41 PM". Angela collapsed against him and his arms went around her, instinctive and protective, and Hiro stood in shock. Peter's eyes trailed down towards the two girls still walking down the hall, talking to one another.
He could hear the brunette's voice just barely (I took your soul so you wouldn't feel any pain when you died; it's time to move on) and he watched them pause, their eyes looking towards something he couldn't see. His mother in his arms sobbed as the nurses covered Nathan's body, shut off the alarms, came out to tell them they'd give them time to say goodbye. And as Peter walked into his brother's room, all he could think about was bright lights and happiness, a place where Nathan wouldn't have to worry about elections and hiding secrets, where he could finally be at peace.
Peter took his brother's hand, watching his mom cling to the lifeless body, her sobs louder and causing Peter's heart to ache. I'll take care of her, he thought, knowing that somewhere, Nathan would hear him.