Bend and Not Break
Title: Bend and Not Break.
Fandom: Heroes.
Characters: Claire/West, mentions of Peter/Claire, Claire-centric.
Rating: PG.
Word Count: 754.
Spoilers: Nothing, really. It's very AU, and in the future a few years.
Summary: You watched the door close and, not for the first time, found yourself feeling completely alone.
Author's Note/Disclaimer: I own nothing. Nadda. Zip, zero. Goose egg.
West is pushing the idea of a child. It’s been five years, he says, we should be ready for one now. But you can’t. You know you can’t. There’s just no way to explain how you found out you can’t to him. So you shake your head and pat his hand. It’s just not the right time, I’m not ready. He’s angry with you, you know that much, but you ignore it. You focus on everything else in your life until he brings it up again.
You’re tempted to tell him okay, fine, we’ll do it. Throw away your birth control so he thinks you’re serious. It’s not like you really need it, anyways. I don’t know what’s going on, you’ll say. Maybe I just can’t have a baby. But you know you can’t. And explaining that to him wouldn’t do much good. It would just bring up old skeletons from your closet, and you’re just not ready to face them yet. Maybe someday, but not now.
--
He wants you to go to the doctor, get yourself checked. He’s already gotten himself checked, and there’s nothing wrong. But he forgets that you’re supernatural - that your blood and your body are different from everyone else’s, and certainly the doctors would notice. Besides, it would be a waste of time, money and a test; you already know you can’t have children.
You shake your head at him and pat his hand. We’ll keep trying, you say. Maybe we’re just too stressed out. It’ll happen eventually, though. But you know it won’t. You know you’ll never be able to have children. How are you supposed to explain that to him, though? He’d be crushed, and you can’t stand the thought of breaking West’s heart like that.
--
He’s gone when you wake up. You roll over and search the empty sheets. He left a note, saying he needs time to think. I just need some space. I’ll be back in a few weeks or so, he wrote. You push the note aside and place a hand on your stomach, remembering how it felt to have the baby inside of you for that short time.
You can remember exactly when you found out you were pregnant. And you can remember how nervous, but strangely excited, you were. You had planned on having it, without telling the father. Because having a baby would be hard, but everyone knowing who the father was would be unlivable. The looks you would’ve gotten from Nathan and Angela, the disgust that would’ve radiated off of them would’ve been far too much to bear. They would’ve cast you aside, pretended like you didn’t exist.
So you kept quiet.
--
A few weeks later, West comes home. He’s distant, though, and you don’t blame him. He wanted a child, desperately, and things weren’t working out. He stopped touching you in the special way of his, or kissing you three times before heading off to work. He stopped bringing home random little presents, from flowers to chocolate to jewelry. He stopped being the attentive, loving husband he’d become, and you didn’t blame him.
Just like you didn’t blame Peter for the loss of your child. Just like you didn’t blame Mohinder for not being able to save the baby. Just like you didn’t blame Nathan for the genetics that made your body heal itself to the point where is sensed a child as an intruder. Just like you never blamed yourself for loving Peter more than you could ever dream of loving West.
--
He never figured it out, and you never told him. Even as he was packing his bags and you were standing at the door, watching as he forced himself not to cry. Even as you held a hand to your chest and cried real tears. Not for the loss of him, you knew that much was inevitable, but for the loss of the future you could’ve had. The child he wanted desperately that you couldn’t give him. And the child that you’d lost because of your body, the one that Peter had unintentionally given you before you found out he was your uncle.
You watched the door close and, not for the first time, found yourself feeling completely empty. Peter was gone, your child was gone, your father was gone and now West was gone. And you still found it amazing that, even after all these years and all those people you’ve lost, that the loss of Peter stung the worst.
Fandom: Heroes.
Characters: Claire/West, mentions of Peter/Claire, Claire-centric.
Rating: PG.
Word Count: 754.
Spoilers: Nothing, really. It's very AU, and in the future a few years.
Summary: You watched the door close and, not for the first time, found yourself feeling completely alone.
Author's Note/Disclaimer: I own nothing. Nadda. Zip, zero. Goose egg.
West is pushing the idea of a child. It’s been five years, he says, we should be ready for one now. But you can’t. You know you can’t. There’s just no way to explain how you found out you can’t to him. So you shake your head and pat his hand. It’s just not the right time, I’m not ready. He’s angry with you, you know that much, but you ignore it. You focus on everything else in your life until he brings it up again.
You’re tempted to tell him okay, fine, we’ll do it. Throw away your birth control so he thinks you’re serious. It’s not like you really need it, anyways. I don’t know what’s going on, you’ll say. Maybe I just can’t have a baby. But you know you can’t. And explaining that to him wouldn’t do much good. It would just bring up old skeletons from your closet, and you’re just not ready to face them yet. Maybe someday, but not now.
--
He wants you to go to the doctor, get yourself checked. He’s already gotten himself checked, and there’s nothing wrong. But he forgets that you’re supernatural - that your blood and your body are different from everyone else’s, and certainly the doctors would notice. Besides, it would be a waste of time, money and a test; you already know you can’t have children.
You shake your head at him and pat his hand. We’ll keep trying, you say. Maybe we’re just too stressed out. It’ll happen eventually, though. But you know it won’t. You know you’ll never be able to have children. How are you supposed to explain that to him, though? He’d be crushed, and you can’t stand the thought of breaking West’s heart like that.
--
He’s gone when you wake up. You roll over and search the empty sheets. He left a note, saying he needs time to think. I just need some space. I’ll be back in a few weeks or so, he wrote. You push the note aside and place a hand on your stomach, remembering how it felt to have the baby inside of you for that short time.
You can remember exactly when you found out you were pregnant. And you can remember how nervous, but strangely excited, you were. You had planned on having it, without telling the father. Because having a baby would be hard, but everyone knowing who the father was would be unlivable. The looks you would’ve gotten from Nathan and Angela, the disgust that would’ve radiated off of them would’ve been far too much to bear. They would’ve cast you aside, pretended like you didn’t exist.
So you kept quiet.
--
A few weeks later, West comes home. He’s distant, though, and you don’t blame him. He wanted a child, desperately, and things weren’t working out. He stopped touching you in the special way of his, or kissing you three times before heading off to work. He stopped bringing home random little presents, from flowers to chocolate to jewelry. He stopped being the attentive, loving husband he’d become, and you didn’t blame him.
Just like you didn’t blame Peter for the loss of your child. Just like you didn’t blame Mohinder for not being able to save the baby. Just like you didn’t blame Nathan for the genetics that made your body heal itself to the point where is sensed a child as an intruder. Just like you never blamed yourself for loving Peter more than you could ever dream of loving West.
--
He never figured it out, and you never told him. Even as he was packing his bags and you were standing at the door, watching as he forced himself not to cry. Even as you held a hand to your chest and cried real tears. Not for the loss of him, you knew that much was inevitable, but for the loss of the future you could’ve had. The child he wanted desperately that you couldn’t give him. And the child that you’d lost because of your body, the one that Peter had unintentionally given you before you found out he was your uncle.
You watched the door close and, not for the first time, found yourself feeling completely empty. Peter was gone, your child was gone, your father was gone and now West was gone. And you still found it amazing that, even after all these years and all those people you’ve lost, that the loss of Peter stung the worst.