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withimpunityTitle: Fractured
Character: Peter and Nathan Petrelli (well, sorta)
Rating: PG-13
Warning: Um, so, this is pretty dark. I don't know what's wrong with me. I love Nathan, you guys know that, right? So yeah, this fic has character death.
Disclaimer: Heroes belongs to Tim Kring, NBC, and other folks who aren’t me. This is for fun only, never profit.
Cross posted at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
darkpetrellis HALLO!
He’s holding Nathan in his arms as he breathes his last breath, wanting to, but not being able to look into his eyes as he dies. Peter doesn’t know or care how long he sits there, clutching Nathan’s broken, bloody body tightly against his chest, as if there’s still something to protect him from, but when the sun begins to peek through the gaps in the tall buildings, Peter knows it’s time to leave. A car starts up a mile away and Peter doesn’t loosen his grip around Nathan as he closes his eyes and teleports them to his apartment.
He lays Nathan on his couch and covers him with an old, ragged throw that he’s had since he moved out, probably something Nathan gave him years ago, and Peter breaks. His knees give out from beneath him and he curls into himself and around Nathan’s cold body on the couch. He sobs hysterically against Nathan’s neck, his body shaking with grief and inexplicable pain. They weren’t twins but they were fucking close enough and Peter feels like half of his body has gone numb; died.
He looks at his hands, smeared with blood from the deep laceration running horizontal across Nathan’s chest and tries not to look at the gash in Nathan’s shirt, or think about how it had been light blue with pinstripes when they finally found each other and was now forever tainted crimson. It will fade over time, turning darker red, then brown. The way dead things do.
Peter doesn’t realize that he’s gotten up, walked into the bathroom, and begun washing his hands until he feels a slight bit of discomfort, barely noticeable under the crippling pain over losing half of his self. He stops and stares down at his hands, covered in his own blood now from rubbing them raw, Nathan’s blood mixing with his own; the thick crimson liquid a stark contrast against the white porcelain as it disappears down the drain, but not gone. Never gone.
Peter looks up at himself in the mirror, his face blurry and distorted through tears that just won’t stop coming, barely recognizable underneath the dried blood and the scar that runs diagonally across his face from Sylar’s last strike, right before he went after-
He touches his fingers to the deep, raised scar, washing away the blood with the wet tips, staring curiously at the angry pink slice in his flesh. Suddenly, Peter grips the edge of the porcelain basin and in front of him the mirror shatters. He’s had the ability to heal for a year now, ever since he met Nathan’s daughter in Texas. But Adam taught him how to control his powers, all of them. How to heal consciously, precisely, and how not to.
Peter wills the gash across his face to stop healing; its as easy as that. The scar will never heal, the mark on his face will never disappear. It will always be there; an eternal reminder of the day Sylar took Nathan’s life and with it a part of Peter’s soul that will never grow back. Peter’s washes his face clean of the rest of the caked on blood, wipes it with a fresh, fluffed white towel and discards it in the trash. He looks up at his reflection, distorted through the broken shards of glass. It seems fitting somehow. This disfigurement is who he is now. Scarred. Fractured. Less than whole. It will never heal and neither will he.
Character: Peter and Nathan Petrelli (well, sorta)
Rating: PG-13
Warning: Um, so, this is pretty dark. I don't know what's wrong with me. I love Nathan, you guys know that, right? So yeah, this fic has character death.
Disclaimer: Heroes belongs to Tim Kring, NBC, and other folks who aren’t me. This is for fun only, never profit.
Cross posted at
darkpetrellis HALLO!He’s holding Nathan in his arms as he breathes his last breath, wanting to, but not being able to look into his eyes as he dies. Peter doesn’t know or care how long he sits there, clutching Nathan’s broken, bloody body tightly against his chest, as if there’s still something to protect him from, but when the sun begins to peek through the gaps in the tall buildings, Peter knows it’s time to leave. A car starts up a mile away and Peter doesn’t loosen his grip around Nathan as he closes his eyes and teleports them to his apartment.
He lays Nathan on his couch and covers him with an old, ragged throw that he’s had since he moved out, probably something Nathan gave him years ago, and Peter breaks. His knees give out from beneath him and he curls into himself and around Nathan’s cold body on the couch. He sobs hysterically against Nathan’s neck, his body shaking with grief and inexplicable pain. They weren’t twins but they were fucking close enough and Peter feels like half of his body has gone numb; died.
He looks at his hands, smeared with blood from the deep laceration running horizontal across Nathan’s chest and tries not to look at the gash in Nathan’s shirt, or think about how it had been light blue with pinstripes when they finally found each other and was now forever tainted crimson. It will fade over time, turning darker red, then brown. The way dead things do.
Peter doesn’t realize that he’s gotten up, walked into the bathroom, and begun washing his hands until he feels a slight bit of discomfort, barely noticeable under the crippling pain over losing half of his self. He stops and stares down at his hands, covered in his own blood now from rubbing them raw, Nathan’s blood mixing with his own; the thick crimson liquid a stark contrast against the white porcelain as it disappears down the drain, but not gone. Never gone.
Peter looks up at himself in the mirror, his face blurry and distorted through tears that just won’t stop coming, barely recognizable underneath the dried blood and the scar that runs diagonally across his face from Sylar’s last strike, right before he went after-
He touches his fingers to the deep, raised scar, washing away the blood with the wet tips, staring curiously at the angry pink slice in his flesh. Suddenly, Peter grips the edge of the porcelain basin and in front of him the mirror shatters. He’s had the ability to heal for a year now, ever since he met Nathan’s daughter in Texas. But Adam taught him how to control his powers, all of them. How to heal consciously, precisely, and how not to.
Peter wills the gash across his face to stop healing; its as easy as that. The scar will never heal, the mark on his face will never disappear. It will always be there; an eternal reminder of the day Sylar took Nathan’s life and with it a part of Peter’s soul that will never grow back. Peter’s washes his face clean of the rest of the caked on blood, wipes it with a fresh, fluffed white towel and discards it in the trash. He looks up at his reflection, distorted through the broken shards of glass. It seems fitting somehow. This disfigurement is who he is now. Scarred. Fractured. Less than whole. It will never heal and neither will he.
no subject
Date: 2007-11-28 03:48 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-28 03:59 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-28 04:52 am (UTC)And: NOOOOOOOO! *cries* This will not happen. Nathan is not one of the two heroes who will "fall" next week. If he is, I don't think I'll be able to watch the show anymore. *cries some more*
This wasevil.
no subject
Date: 2007-11-28 05:05 am (UTC)I'm sorry you had to read this. :( But I warned! :p
no subject
Date: 2007-11-28 05:10 am (UTC)Yes, you did warn. But... it's like telling a kid not to stick a piece of metal in an outlet. I couldn't help myself. *cries again*
no subject
Date: 2007-11-28 06:57 am (UTC)I just love the way you explained Peter's scar, though.
no subject
Date: 2007-11-28 08:55 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-28 08:42 am (UTC)And...it's...heartbreaking ;///;
Nice shout-out to Tim Kring's original idea of the brothers as twins (I'm guessing you read the very first version of the script, in which they're twins and Nathan says to Peter he's his better half. And then he says he loves him. Yeah, that was supposed to be on the pilot, my god.), and nice work all around.
God, it's so...terrible. He really can never be whole again. Oh, Peter. Peter. Oh.
no subject
Date: 2007-11-28 08:58 am (UTC)