Five-minute fic: Heroes
Tiny wee post-ep for A Company Man.
~*~
Obviously, few partnerships are ideal from the very start. Bennet is a sensible man, in every possible sense of the word, and he knows about realistic expectations, about compromise.
Claude is still a surprise. Not just for melting out of thin air two feet from him - though that did bother him in the beginning, as much as it fascinated him. As much as it - all of it - fascinates him still. He wasn't aware he was going to be working with a subject, though the more he thinks about it, the more pleased and comfortable he feels with the work they're doing. Containment. Analysis. Careful intergration. Claude is proof of their success.
But as they review files and new data the next day, talking back and forth, Claude looks at him and in his blunt, casual way says, "They frighten you a little, don't they? People like me." And it would be a rude non-sequiter, if his mind hadn't been skirting around that nervous thought all week.
Claude has two bothersome habits. One is fading out of vision when his mind is occupied - disturbing, because quite often Bennet forgets he's there at all. He gets used to it after a while, though, and being constantly alert for an unseen observer has made him better at watching his own behavior and habits. He's grateful for the practice.
The second habit bothers him more. Not that it's a danger; it's... annoying, more than anything. Bennet is used to thinking of words as building blocks, constructing information or lies as simply or elaborately he needs them to. There are times, though.
There's a failure of containment, a small girl of six manifesting unexpectedly and bringing a five-story brick building down on top of her family and neighbors, and their concern is her capture. But she's so small, and frightened, deceptive for something strong enough to shake this solid house to pieces. She's bawling with snot on her face when the tranq hits her, and Claude hefts her easily out of the rubble, where company-paid emergency workers are already arriving.
Claire will be six, soon. He's already made arrangements to be tied up at work for her birthday. "Alright," he says, gravel-voiced with plaster dust, brushing it off his knees. The girl lolls like a dead thing in Claude's arms. "This is exactly the kind of thing we work to prevent. I want her properly contained, studied acutely."
He blinks, rubs dust out of his eyes. He's sure his expression was as firm as his voice, but Claude, stepping carefully past him, murmurs, "No you don't. But I won't tell anyone," before he and the girl melt out of sight so that no-one will ask about a suited stranger carrying an unconscious little girl.
Claude uses words like tools, surgical and invasive. He has trouble not speaking as he finds, and what he finds are things that are uncomfortable, unspoken for good reason, that make Bennet's job a little harder than it needs to be.
Claude questions things, and people, and as the years go on he quietly, delicately, starts to question the organisation. More and more he refers to Us instead of Them, and so, a few months later, Bennet isn't really surprised to find himself called into a meeting alone.
He's surprised by his dry throat, and by the gun going off. He's surprised by Claude's sudden, shocking gracelessness, the honest disbelief on his face, and his own anger, which startles him and disappears and quickly as it rose. He's surprised when his feet don't kick an invisible body at the fence of the bridge, and he realises that the job is done, and he's fulfilled his duty to the company.
His report subtly commends Claude's dignity and years of service to the company, and confesses his failure to extract the identity of the buried subject with genuine regret. The Haitian boy has grown into a fine and useful man, and he makes an excellent, obedient, and silent colleague.
When he goes home, he kisses Claire on the head when she gets home from school. On the weekend, he takes her to the park.
~*~
So, basically, I was watching the black and white flashbacks of flail-inducing awesome, but kept being a bit distracted by Claude not quite seeming like himself. Then the "7 Years Ago" part came up, and he started needling Bennet about Claire, and I thought "Aha! There he is!"
Because that's pretty much his entire relationship with Peter, minus the amusing violence. I like the idea of Claude as a speaker of (annoying and horrible and uncomfortable) truths. Also? I really like the idea that he got shot three times in the torso, fell off a bridge into a ravine and survived, because even with help, that's one tough bastard. Yay Claude! And Yay HRG!
~*~
Obviously, few partnerships are ideal from the very start. Bennet is a sensible man, in every possible sense of the word, and he knows about realistic expectations, about compromise.
Claude is still a surprise. Not just for melting out of thin air two feet from him - though that did bother him in the beginning, as much as it fascinated him. As much as it - all of it - fascinates him still. He wasn't aware he was going to be working with a subject, though the more he thinks about it, the more pleased and comfortable he feels with the work they're doing. Containment. Analysis. Careful intergration. Claude is proof of their success.
But as they review files and new data the next day, talking back and forth, Claude looks at him and in his blunt, casual way says, "They frighten you a little, don't they? People like me." And it would be a rude non-sequiter, if his mind hadn't been skirting around that nervous thought all week.
Claude has two bothersome habits. One is fading out of vision when his mind is occupied - disturbing, because quite often Bennet forgets he's there at all. He gets used to it after a while, though, and being constantly alert for an unseen observer has made him better at watching his own behavior and habits. He's grateful for the practice.
The second habit bothers him more. Not that it's a danger; it's... annoying, more than anything. Bennet is used to thinking of words as building blocks, constructing information or lies as simply or elaborately he needs them to. There are times, though.
There's a failure of containment, a small girl of six manifesting unexpectedly and bringing a five-story brick building down on top of her family and neighbors, and their concern is her capture. But she's so small, and frightened, deceptive for something strong enough to shake this solid house to pieces. She's bawling with snot on her face when the tranq hits her, and Claude hefts her easily out of the rubble, where company-paid emergency workers are already arriving.
Claire will be six, soon. He's already made arrangements to be tied up at work for her birthday. "Alright," he says, gravel-voiced with plaster dust, brushing it off his knees. The girl lolls like a dead thing in Claude's arms. "This is exactly the kind of thing we work to prevent. I want her properly contained, studied acutely."
He blinks, rubs dust out of his eyes. He's sure his expression was as firm as his voice, but Claude, stepping carefully past him, murmurs, "No you don't. But I won't tell anyone," before he and the girl melt out of sight so that no-one will ask about a suited stranger carrying an unconscious little girl.
Claude uses words like tools, surgical and invasive. He has trouble not speaking as he finds, and what he finds are things that are uncomfortable, unspoken for good reason, that make Bennet's job a little harder than it needs to be.
Claude questions things, and people, and as the years go on he quietly, delicately, starts to question the organisation. More and more he refers to Us instead of Them, and so, a few months later, Bennet isn't really surprised to find himself called into a meeting alone.
He's surprised by his dry throat, and by the gun going off. He's surprised by Claude's sudden, shocking gracelessness, the honest disbelief on his face, and his own anger, which startles him and disappears and quickly as it rose. He's surprised when his feet don't kick an invisible body at the fence of the bridge, and he realises that the job is done, and he's fulfilled his duty to the company.
His report subtly commends Claude's dignity and years of service to the company, and confesses his failure to extract the identity of the buried subject with genuine regret. The Haitian boy has grown into a fine and useful man, and he makes an excellent, obedient, and silent colleague.
When he goes home, he kisses Claire on the head when she gets home from school. On the weekend, he takes her to the park.
~*~
So, basically, I was watching the black and white flashbacks of flail-inducing awesome, but kept being a bit distracted by Claude not quite seeming like himself. Then the "7 Years Ago" part came up, and he started needling Bennet about Claire, and I thought "Aha! There he is!"
Because that's pretty much his entire relationship with Peter, minus the amusing violence. I like the idea of Claude as a speaker of (annoying and horrible and uncomfortable) truths. Also? I really like the idea that he got shot three times in the torso, fell off a bridge into a ravine and survived, because even with help, that's one tough bastard. Yay Claude! And Yay HRG!