Peter Petrelli (mimic_peter) wrote in 12monthsback,
Peter Petrelli
mimic_peter
12monthsback

Date: Spring 2007, about six weeks after Peter's capture
Character(s): Peter Petrelli, Claire Bennet
Summary: Captivity does some strange things to people.
Status: In progress
Private



There'd been a time, a little more then a week and a half ago that peter would've sworn that he never would've seen actual daylight again. Much less stepped out of that building. Even more less actually been able to go home. Bob called it an act of faith, a bone thrown to the mimic for being a good prisoner. He got to go home so long as he did the Company a couple favors a couple times a week or so.

Peter didn't even bother to think about what those favors really where, though he could guess, before he signed his name on the papers. Willingly employing himself in the Company this time.

He went to his apartment first, knowing that it was stupid to except Claire to still be there, waiting for him even after a month and a half, but still kind of hoping for it. It would've been nice. Really nice to come home to her and just wrap his arms around her and refuse to let go until he was really sure that she was real. But predictably she wasn't there. By the looks of the apartment, and the thin film of dust over everything, no one had been in his apartment in a while.

There was a note on the fridge for Nathan (his brother was probably the one still paying the rent) from Claire, telling him that she went to live with her dad, her real dad and begging asking him to call her if he heard anything from Peter. Peter read the note, went to change into something that wasn't blue-grey pajamas, stuffed the note into his pocket and went in search of the address that she'd left.

It wasn't hard to find. He was there, in front of her biological father's apartment in like fifteen minutes. The walk actually wasn't that bad, gave him time to think about what he'd tell her and what he wouldn't. Actually convincing himself to knock on the door took some time though, and he turned around, going down the block to the corner store to get a pack of cigarettes.

Nathan would kill him but ten years and six weeks of hell meant that he deserved at least one.

Peter paced outside the apartment building, taking his time with it. By the time he stamped out the remains on the sidewalk, he was ready to knock on the door. And so borderline disgusted with himself for relapsing that he handed the rest of the pack off to the nearest hobo before going inside the building. He didn't hesitate now as he went straight up to the door and knocked on it.

Tags: claire bennet, peter petrelli
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That wasn't really the first words that he'd expected to come out of her mouth but he'd work with it. It was better then slamming the door in his face or bursting into tears. He was pretty sure that he'd made her cry enough already to last them both a lifetime.

"I, um..." Peter stammered, running his fingers over his hair, still inches shorter then it had been the last time she'd seen it. His hair grew kinda fast but not that fast and upon realizing that he still wasn't used to not having something to tug on when he was nervous, he bent down to pick up her phone.

"You left a note," he said, staring at her phone as he put the pieces back together. It was something he'd done before. Claire had a habit of dropping her phone and the battery liked to pop out when she did. "It was meant for Nathan but you know that obviously... since you wrote it and all."

He was rambling. It was something he did when he was nervous. "I guess I thought that this would be better then a phone call," Peter said, handing her phone back to her, like some kind of peace offering.
"Yeah," Peter agreed softly, deciding right there that he hated how awkward this was. It shouldn't have been like this. She wasn't supposed to be staring at him like he was the bad news that had just ruined her life. He wasn't supposed to feel like turning on his heel and running the other way.

Something was wrong. Seeing Claire again was supposed to be happy, damnit.

He ran his fingers over his hair again, staring at her... neck instead of her face, feeling his lips quirk towards a tiny smile when he saw the necklace. At least that part still made sense.

Peter moved his eyes back to her face after a moment. "You look exactly like I remember," he said softly. Her hair was straight and shorter but he didn't care about that. She was still Claire, and that was all he really cared about.
What the... fuck?

"Claire, I didn't..." Peter stopped, unable to just stand there and watch her cry any longer. He didn't care if she wanted him to do it or not. It was something that he needed to do. He needed to at least try to fix everything, to pick up the pieces of what used to be Claire and glue them back together.

He'd been good at it in the past.

Peter stepped forward, slipping an arm around her waist and pulling her close, resting his head against the top of hers. Just like he had a dozen times before. "I didn't leave," he said softly. "You didn't do anything. I swear to God, Claire it wasn't you."

He sighed softly. "I didn't want to go anywhere."
Peter dropped his eyes to the ground almost immediately. "Yeah, I know," he said softly, saying it more to her shoes then her face but after she pulled away from him like that? He'd be surprised if he could actually make himself look at her face again. "It's been a long day," he added, closing his eyes for a moment.

It'd been a long six weeks to be honest. And that one cigarette was probably the last thing he expected her to hold against him.

"I gave the rest of them to a hobo," Peter offered, like that little fact made it better. Something he was starting to think was a bad idea but how the hell was he supposed to know their reunion would go this badly?
Peter glanced around, mostly to be polite rather then being actually interested in her biological father's apartment. She said staying. Staying meant that she didn't consider herself actually living here with her dad, and there was a chance that once they got past this weird awkward thing, then she would be coming back to live with him.

"It's nice," he said finally, looking back at her. Peter managed to get to her shoulder. That was an improvement over her feet, at least.

"It was good of him to take you in. I was worried about you staying alone on the city."
Peter winced. It wasn't like she needed to remind him of the fact that he'd missed her birthday. He was very aware of that, since Elle had taken it upon herself to finally tell him what the date was on Claire's birthday. She thought it was funny.

He kind of wanted to rip her hair out of her head.

"You know what I meant," Peter said, his eyes moving back down to her elbow. Mentioning her birthday and the fact that he'd missed it because some crazy blonde girl had kidnapped him from his own apartment, had caused him to relapse a little.

"It's not... safe for you to be alone."
Peter had no doubts that her dad could protect her. She was obviously safe now. The Company hadn't tried to get her like they'd gotten him and now that they'd gotten what they wanted from him, they never would. He'd put himself back in that cell before he let anything like that happen to her.

His eyes dropped her to waist a moment later, feeling his nerve start to fail him and that urge for a cigarette coming back. It wasn't that he didn't want to tell her that the Company had taken him and holed him up in Hartsdale for six weeks. He just didn't want to worry her.

"Does it really matter?" Peter asked softly. "I didn't want to go and I've been in the same room for six weeks and it sucked and I just don't want to talk about it, okay?"
That got him to look at her, really look at her. And give her a look that was part incredulous and part angry that she would even suggest that. He already said that it wasn't his idea to leave and that it had nothing to do with her. He'd practically signed his soul away because of her too. What more did she want?

Because he wanted to stop talking about this, like thirty seconds ago.

"If it were you, I wouldn't be standing four feet away and looking like I hated you for something that wasn't your fault," Peter retorted. "I'd understand that you've been to hell and back and that maybe the journey is just too much to handle right now and talking about it makes it worse."

mimic_peter

June 10 2008, 17:49:41 UTC 9 years ago Edited:  June 10 2008, 22:06:00 UTC

Well that was just too bad for her because Peter wanted to talk about what had happened inside Company walls about as much as he wanted to stick a nail through his own foot.

He was staring at the ground again, trying to think of what to say. There was another reason for not wanting to talk about the Company. Her adoptive father worked for them and while he had no idea what the current state of their relationship was, he didn't want to drive another wedge in it. She hadn't gone back to Texas. That said something about how she was acting towards the people that raised her.

"It wasn't," Peter said softly. "You know what I can do. I don't know how they found out but they did and..." He shrugged a little, gesturing helplessly.
"Well, he lied," Peter retorted, sharper then he meant to. But he kind of didn't agree with any idea that implied that he'd just made up the past six weeks because he felt like it and even worse, that he would've stayed away from her that long because he wanted to.

"Or he was lied to because this is the first time that I've seen natural daylight in weeks," he told her, feeling his throat tighten a little. She knew him. She knew that he wouldn't do something like that if he had a choice. Or he thought that she knew him like he thought that he knew her.

"You honestly think that I would... really, Claire?"
Peter felt a little like he'd just been punched. By something solid metal and weighing more then five hundred pounds. She'd honestly thought that he'd moved on from her. That he'd packed up and left without saying a word to her. Or, even worse, that he would do that to her.

"Keith doesn't know me," Peter said, aware that he was standing in that man's apartment. He was kind of quickly coming to the conclusion that he didn't like her biological father, if he was planting ideas like that in Claire's head.

"You know me. You know that I would never do something like that. I would never leave you without a word. Not after everything that we've been through. How can you honestly hold being kidnapped over my head like this?"
Peter sighed softly, turning his head to the side. "I think it's called parole," he said after a moment. Didn't really matter what it was called. He wasn't in that cell anymore and that was all he really cared about and so what if he worked for the people that had created this mess? Even a false sense of freedom was better then nothing at all.

"You know, you can go home since you were good and let us do stuff and just sign this paper and you can leave... that kind of thing. I don't think that I even read the conditions on that page. I just wanted to leave. I just wanted to..." see you.
Peter slid his arms around her, holding her as close to himself as he could get her. Finally, something was making sense. She wasn't staring at him and she wasn't accusing him of being like Keith and holding Claire always made things make a little more sense.

"Not really," he murmured, resting his chin on the top of her head. "I think I... work there now?" he shrugged as best he could while still keeping his arms tight around her. "I don't know what Bob wants me to do and honestly, I don't really care."

His brother had had the luxury of not remembering what had happened to him while the Company had him. Peter didn't come out of it that lucky and it was changing him more then he realized.

"I just... needed to get out of there," he whispered. And protect you.
Peter stared at her when she started to push him away. Granted, it was something that she had every right to be mad at him for. He was kind of mad at himself, until he remembered what the alternative was and suddenly his new job was like a godsend.

It wasn't that bad really. He was out and he could protect her. Pretty much two of the only things that he cared about.

"It's not a big deal," he said, tipping his head to the side a little. "It's not like it's the worst thing that could happen."
Well, when she put it like that he sounded crazy. But it wasn't anything like that. It was something much, much worse and he didn't really care if she was going to hold that against him, just like she was going to hold being kidnapped against him, because she had no idea what it was like.

And it would stay that way. That's why he agreed to the stupid job in the first place.

Well... that was part of the reason. Roughly half. The rest was selfishly just for him and for once, Peter was taking something for himself and not giving a damn what anyone thought of him for it.

"Don't give me that look," Peter said, on the border of ice cold and angry. "You don't know what it was like. You have... no right to judge me for this because you weren't there."
Peter flinched, giving her a look that floated around somewhere between looking like he was going to run the other way at any second and like he wanted to slap some sense into her.

He wasn't really sure why, but the words 'I do but I care about yours more', which had the potential to stop the fight right then and there, dead in its tracks, couldn't make their way out of his throat. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that he was swiftly coming to the conclusion that the love he felt for her wasn't returned like he thought it had been.

"Because it's some life locked up in a prison cell, being used as a lab rat whenever they felt like it," Peter shot back.

"Yeah, I'm so depressed to leave that behind," he added sarcastically.
Peter had learned a couple things while in the Company's care. On the top of that list was being able to hold himself back. To keep his emotions to himself and his empathy for others even closer. It was pure self preservation instinct. Someone yelled at him, made fun of him, accused him of something that he hadn't done and would never do and he retreated into himself now.

It was easier then letting himself be picked to pieces by Claire's unjust wrath.

"I thought... " he said, looking to the side and shifting his weight. He really shouldn't have given those cigarettes away. Because now he was going to have to buy another pack.

"I thought you'd want to see me," Peter said finally, his voice dropping to hardly above a whisper. "Because I wanted to see you, more then Nathan even and I guess I misjudged our relationship or something. Here I was under the impression that you'd be happy to see me."
Peter honestly had no idea how to respond to her rant. He'd been expecting her to push her anger to the side, even if it was just for tonight and comfort him and help him feel like everything wasn't falling apart, when he knew that it was anyway. He didn't know how to react when one of the only two people he trusted when it came to this ability stuff was telling him that she hated him.

Besides that wave of panic and feeling like he needed to pull more back, to show her even less then the little bone of emotion that he'd been throwing her.

"I'm sorry... you feel that way," Peter said, his voice dead and awkward and still that little hint of being thisclose to breaking down wormed its way in.
"I guess I wanted something that I imagined," Peter said, biting down on his bottom lip. He was going to break down. It was something that was a long time coming, for about six weeks now and there wasn't anything that was going to stop it really. He could delay it though. Because he wasn't going to do it in front of her. He wasn't going to give her more ammunition against him.

He picked up his head and looked over at her, watching her stare at anything and everything but him for a moment. "I'll take that back then," Peter said, gesturing at the necklace around her neck. It was like having a knife lodged in his chest seeing it there.

And he was doing what any wounded animal would do; he was lashing out at his attacker.

"Since it was a product of my imagination to a free-loading bitch."
Keith had pretty much heard enough. And no he wasn't listening. The walls were thin and his daughter was loud and he didn't care who Peter was or where he came from or what he'd been through or what he was expecting, he wasn't creating another mess for Keith to clean up. The last time had been enough, thanks, and it was time to stop it before Claire got even worse.

"I believe she told you to leave," Keith said, leveling the shotgun in his hand at the other man. He kept the weapon around for protection.

And you know, chasing out ex-boyfriends of his daughter's.
Peter glanced over when the door to another room opened and who he guessed was her dad came out with a shotgun and everything. Because... that was just the perfect way to end this encounter. Having a gun pointed at his head after Claire had pretty much ripped his heart out and stomped on it.

He nodded a little bit, to show her dad that he'd heard and that he was going to leave. Didn't want to be shot just because Keith thought that he was ignoring him or something. If he was going to be shot at all, then he wanted there to be a really good reason for it. Not just a kick while he was already down kind of thing.

"I don't have anything of yours," Peter said, his voice cracking and he didn't even bother to hide it. She didn't love him. There was no way that she could've loved him and still treated him like she had. He was going to cut his losses and move on before she could find another part to claw open.

"And I don't want it," Peter added, giving her one last, hard look before making himself go invisible. That was one good thing that had come out of the past six weeks. He could control his abilities now. He could summon them whenever he wanted and without getting a headache.

He didn't really think that she'd care.

Peter didn't waste any time leaving. The front door opened a couple seconds later and then slammed shut.