Title: Fatherhood
Rating: PG-13, just to be safe
Characters: Noah Bennet, Claire Bennet, Gabriel Gray, Noah Gray, Samuel Sullivan, Amanda Strazzulla, Nathan Petrelli, Simon Petrelli, Monty Petrelli, Elle Bishop, and Bob Bishop. Mentions of Heidi Petrelli, Lydia [Strazzulla?], Lyle Bennet, and Peter Petrelli.
Summary: Father: a man who exercises paternal care over other persons; paternal protector or provider. A look into some of the diffferent themes of fatherhood with some of our favorite characters.
Disclaimer: I don't own, obviously, or this would be a part of the show and not some rambling on this site.
The envelopes sat open on his desk, finger-paintings and crude drawings sitting atop his bills and memorandums and post-it notes about their messages desperately asking him to call them. Nathan rubbed his face with his hands, the Tylenol not yet kicking in as he struggled to remember what it was he was supposed to be doing this afternoon. The clock on his wall was ticking more loudly than ever; for some reason, it distracted him from thinking all together. What were their names again? Their picture sat face down on his desk, the one taken a few years back when he took the boys and Heidi to the beach for a day. One smiled, his front tooth missing; the younger boy looked sad, probably upset about being pulled away from the sandcastles he'd been trying to finish building before the tide took them away. Peter was there that day, taking the picture, but he doesn't remember that either. Nathan couldn't look them in their faces; what kind of father was he that he couldn't remember his son's names?
How the hell was he supposed to focus on them with that damn clock ticking so loudly anyways?
"You're pretty much the closest thing to a father I've ever had." Her words, coated with the naiveté that only a girl with such a sweet cherub face could possess, struck him more than he expected they possibly could. Amanda smiled up at him, not noticing the flicker in his eyes as he sat beside her on the bench near the fire, handing her a chipped mug filled to the brim with hot chocolate. As many times as Samuel had considered [whether out loud or in his own mind] himself to be the father of the carnival, the thought had never been reciprocated. The flames danced around them, the small girl keeping the fire alive as her blue eyes shimmered with pride. Samuel chewed his lip, seeing her face seem to glow like the fire. Because of him, this little girl lost, his little girl lost, didn't feel alone or ashamed of herself. She slurped her hot chocolate, the steam from the mug rising around her as she turned to look at him. "I just wanted to tell you that. Thank you."
Samuel felt a familiar chill run down his spine; a pair of catlike eyes were watching him from the shadows, the owner of those eyes very much protective of her kitten. However, he was beginning to see the game that was being played: Lydia was attempting to make up for lost time, and Amanda was trying to find some of sort of reckoning for said lost time. This became all the more clearer when he wrapped a slender arm around her, and she nestled herself against his chest and looked into the fire, pretending she didn't know her mother was nearby. Samuel smiled, pressing a kiss against her thick, braided hair. "Well, my dear, having a daughter like you would be the highest honor anyone could bestow on me. So thank you."
Sometimes he's not sure if it's supposed to be some form of reality, or if it's just in his imagination. He can see himself with a little boy, a boy whose smile makes him grin for reasons he's unsure of, and thinking of this child makes his heart beat twice as fast and an unfamiliar warmth overtake him. This child makes him happy, and Sylar cannot understand why he sees this dream boy every time he closes his eyes to sleep. His toothless smile, the way he beams at the stack of waffles he hungrily devours in seconds, and the way Sylar himself watches with uncharacteristic pride and tells him he's such a good kid sets off an alarm in his ticking brain and tells him that this is a thought he should hold onto. These images in his brain, this kid, give him strength, and strength is something that Sylar cannot afford to part with, no matter what the cause may be. This little boy, the one her mirthfully calls Noah when he realizes that the Bennet kitchen is the setting of this scene [and sets off other fantasies of who the mother must be because of this fact], is something he wants to be real; if imagining this child gives him this much strength, how much more power could he gain from the real thing?
"Happy Father's Day, Dad!" Claire beams as she throws her arms around her father, leaving no room for Lyle to jump into their embrace. Noah grunts with surprise; the last thing he ever expects from his children is a hug as he walks in the door. She seems to happy to see him, and for a moment it makes him suspicious. But then he looks at himself and wonders What kind of father am I that I can't accept a hug from my daughter without thinking its for real? She doesn't let go, not until a few seconds later, because she wants him to get it without her having to say it out loud: she wants him to know that even though she questions him, distrusts him, and even spits in his face when she doesn't get her way, he's still her father. More so than Nathan has even been; when Claire doesn't want him there, he leaves, and that's not what a father is supposed to do.
That's not what Noah does.
"Aw, thank you Claire-Bear, Lyle." Noah embraces his younger son, though it doesn't mean as much as when Claire does it. She has fewer reasons to hug him, and yet, she does for so much longer than Lyle does. Maybe she's forgiving him, he decides, and maybe he should just accept it without all the words being spoken and just take it from the look in her eyes as she takes his briefcase and sets it on the arm of the couch. Knowing that your daughter will never admit to you that she's sorry but still being able to see it in her face when it counts; that's something else a father is supposed to do.
Noah was getting better and better at it every passing day.
Elle's favorite story growing up, aside from the ones about the pretty princesses who won their brave princes and lived happily ever after, was the one of King Midas. It was Bob's favorite story to read to her when she sat on his Company desk, clicking her heels and playing with her pigtails while his men prepared the laboratories for her arrival. Her favorite part was always the one when King Midas turned his daughter to solid gold, and he learned that his greed was foolish and that his daughter was more important. Elle would tell her Daddy that he was King Midas, and she would ask him every single time he reached the last page if he would pick her over his powers. Bob would always smile, cup her face in his hand and say, "Elle, you are my greatest treasure. If I ever turned you into gold, I'd gladly give it all up to see you smile again."
Of course, as she got older, Elle discovered that there were worse things than being turned into a statue, and those were thing that Daddy didn't raise a golden finger to save her from.
Final thoughts? I might write some more on a prompt like this if anyone gives me ideas. It's been a long time since I've been into Heroes fic; usually I only get into things with Claire, Sylar, Adam, or Elle in them. Lately my thoughts have been on Samuel; Robert Knepper is so made of love and awesomesauce. I haven't seen any writings anywhere that show interactions between him and Amanda, and I think that's something that needs to change ASAP *supersubtlehint*. Please reveiw!