Eyes Say What The Heart Never Can
Summary: Long ago, I ran. And I have regretted it ever since. But now, I've been found, by the very person I ran from. And at first glance, he was exactly alike. Too alike. When I looked closer, I saw a stranger, a stranger with sharp brown eyes.
A/N: First Heroes fic. Summary is in first person, but it is actually in third.
xoxLewrahoxo: It's heroes, and it's slash. You sure you wanna keep on reading?
Peter was on the roof of the Deveaux building. He was sat on the edge, one of his legs dangling over, and the other bent while he rested his chin on his knee. His light brown eyes looked into the clear night sky of New York. The stars were none existent despite the cloud-less appearance as the city lights blotted them out. His long hair brushed against his expressionless face in the slight summer breeze.
As the breeze floated among the sky scrapers, the shabby towers of flats, the bars full of loud, booming music and past various places, so did his thoughts. They flashed from memory to memory. All the people he had met, and how much they had taught him. The last few years; all that sorrow, all that pain but all that amazing time. Discovering his powers and in turn, the powers of the world. Everyone he knew and how the whole world has exploded in front of his eyes and his life changed in a heart beat. And how unbelievable and utterly incredible it all was.
Yet, as he sat there, in a world of his own, his mind fluttered back to the very place he was sitting. The buzz of city life, and the symphony of car horns could be heard like white noise in the background, yet on the top of this building, where so much had happened, even though no one would guess if they saw, it was completely silent. Too silent. It didn't sound natural. Someone was trying to be silent.
"Thought you were leaving town" said Peter, his eyes not leaving the black sky. He didn't need to turn to know he was there. The very man Peter had been waiting for. Peter's voice sounded distance, yet he was desperately trying not to show any emotion.
There was no reply, but the sound of the pigeon cages' rusty locks like knives piercing the silence. Peter lifted his head up and let his gaze fall onto Claude. The man wasn't looking at Peter, but his face was stern. He still had his wiry stubble, a constant reminder of how much he didn't care about himself. Dark clothes, clothes for trying to blend despite the fact no body could see him and that dusty overcoat he never seemed to part with. His face was aged with pain, with an unmistakable yet unmentionable sorrow that always clouded his once good heart. No matter what his aggressive mask gave the impression of, Peter knew Claude was a broken, lost man in a sea of strangers. And Claude would always have a good heart.
For one moment, Claude flicked his eyes up to Peters. Brown met Green. Peter saw anger, deep and blazing, and he saw shock, yet Claude seemed to be holding something else as well. Something that looked almost agonized. Wise, as well. Wise, stormy green eyes. As always.
Claude looked into the soft, brown eyes, bright against a pearly white background. Peter wasn't the same man. His eyes bore a deep, ever-bearing pain he had always had. He was full of apology, and something he saw reflected in Claude's own eyes made him blaze with sorrow. Peter was as, always full of compassion, and seemed to be searching, almost hungrily, for forgiveness in the green eyes.
Eyes were like books. A thousand words could be held between secure covers, a thousand words that described the soul and undoubtedly easy to read if you knew how. But understanding was a different matter altogether.
"I did. But after the exploding man didn't go boom, I came back" replied Claude in an accusing tone. He finished closing the last pen and turned, leaning against the metal cage with crossed arms. His expression showed vague interest, "so what happened? Calendar already full?"
Peter laughed a single humourless chuckle and swung his legs over the edge, bringing himself face to face with those green eyes. Running his fingers through his hair, as he always did when he was nervous, didn't go unnoticed by Claude, who merely frowned.
"Something like that" he mumbled and Claude scoffed, turned back and locking the cages of the birds. They were already locked, but Claude couldn't stand still and look into those brown worlds he had ran from. Peter carried on speaking anyway; his hand on the back of his neck in an awkward manner, "I got that power, by the way" and Claude snapped his head up in an alarmed expression,
"What?" he demanded, but Peter dropped his hand and his head,
"I'm safe! I learnt to control them. Thanks to you…" and Claude rolled his eyes, turned back yet again. "Ted. His name was Ted Sprague. The human atom bomb. But, um…, he's gone now. Murdered"
"Charming…" muttered Claude, but betraying himself in the process. He was trying to show little interest, yet he was hanging off every word. Truthfully, he had often let his mind wander back to that stupid, little pup who was desperately trying to be the hero.
"There's this guy. Sylar, he's called. Have you heard of him?" he said, raised his head to Claude, who didn't look back,
"Sylar? Sounds like a brand of trainers. Honestly, the names they come up with these days…" he replied and Peter took that as a no.
"Well, he's a serial killer. Goes around taking the top of people's heads off and stealing their powers. He got Ted's. There was this massive fight. Kirby Plaza. That's, um, where it was. And he was defeated"
"What? D'you want a medal?" asked Claude, still fussing with the cages, making them squeak. Peter chuckled quietly,
"It wasn't me that did it. There's this Japanese guy, Hiro. Hiro Nakamura-" but Claude looked up, his brow creased,
"Kaito Nakamura's son?" Peter blinked at him and shrugged,
"I don't know. But, um, he's one of us. He can bend time and space, as he says, and, well you know the deal. If he can do it-" but Claude finished the sentence,
"You can do it. Are you telling me you can travel through time?" Claude looked up at Peter, crouching on his knees, with accusing eyes. Peter grinned his signature grin and replied,
"I can travel through time". Claude stood and looked at Peter for a moment before something seemed to click in him. That's what it looked like to Peter anyway. Claude stepped forward, shoulders back, as always. But his eyes squinted and his head slightly tilted as he gazed into the face of Peter Petrelli. Or was it?
Peter blinked and looked away from his old friend, looking up into the black sky, desperately, searching for answers. Answers on why he came here. What exactly did he hope to gain from this meeting except pain? What did he expect achieve except pain? What more could there be except pain? And more importantly, why couldn't he walk away? Of all those times, every one of them, he walked out the door and followed his heart, why couldn't he walk away now?
Claude got closer, and Peter knew the darkness of the night wouldn't help him mask the truth. He had the power of course, but everyone changes. Claude noticed the change almost instantly. Peter looked almost identical to that time so long ago, but his eyes, they were wearing a mask, they were broken eyes. Peter's eyes lied.
Claude gritted his teeth and grabbing Peter by fistfuls of his jacket, he span the young man and threw him into the cold, stone wall. Peter gasped and gripped onto his old friend's hands as they tightened grip, pushing Peter harder into the wall. Claude's eyes burned with anger, and with alarm.
"Who are you?" he growled, his voice rough. Peter gulped and looked deep into the green. What was he searching for? He didn't even know himself. Was it forgiveness? Or maybe some form of understanding?
It came down to it now. Peter could lie and walk away, or rather run knowing Claude. Perhaps even fly if Claude chucked him off another building, he'd certainly done it in the past. Or he could tell the truth, risk the whole of time, and break only God knows how many of the rules of life.
"Don't you know me?" he replied, his eyes hard and accusing. Yet his voice seemed pained. Claude froze at his words and pushed him harder into the stone, then letting go all together. He stood in front of the brown-eyed pup, only this pup wasn't a pup anymore.
"Your Peter, from the future" he accused and Peter nodded in reply. He shouldn't be here. He should never have come back. God, how much he knew he never should have, but he did. Because he's Peter Petrelli. He follows his heart, and where ever it wants to go, where ever it thinks it should go, then he will follow. And right now, his heart needed Claude.
Claude closed his eyes and tried to get Peter's face out of his head. That image of an insecure, little pup, with his ambitions of saving the world and the whole of existent burdened on his shoulders. With his hair in his face like a kid, a kid who'd been spoon fed, patted on his head and told that he shouldn't try something he couldn't achieve.
It was wrong that the same man in front of him looked like that pup. He shouldn't look like that now. He should have changed. But the way he acted, the way he spoke, he had changed. He was different. He'd gone through something, something awful. He'd lost. Had his heart broken and now, he was searching for something. Or maybe he was finding something again.
"Why are you here Peter? What's the point?" he asked, not moving far from his position in front of Peter. The young man didn't move, just stayed against the wall, and looked into green eyes, still searching.
"I wanted to see you". His reply seemed almost like a stray thought, as if he didn't intend to reply. Claude looked at the man before him with eyes of regret. He had walked away, such a long time ago. Because he was scared. Angry. But it was his mistake, and he had always wondered 'What if?' He could have blown up New York, yet, he didn't….
Peter watched Claude in silence, as the man let his train of thought wander. He saw the one thing he didn't expect. Regret. Before Peter could catch himself, he lent forward and brushed his lips against the man's in front of him. Claude froze as he felt the softness of Peter's lips. Yet, he didn't push Peter away. Almost viciously, Peter grabbed Claude, spinning him and taking his turn in throwing the man against the wall. Pushing his lips back down on the shocked man, he kissed Claude roughly, bruising both their lips.
Claude didn't react. He was more shocked and almost frightened by Peter's kiss then by the fact he was kissing Peter back. It was rough, rushed and impatient. It was a kiss that Peter had had before, but not with the green eyed man in this time. It was a kiss that Peter had been wanting for a long time as it was greedy. It was a kiss that Peter should never have had again.
Claude snapped his eyes open and threw Peter back harshly, almost causing the unexpecting man to fall. They stood, looking at each other, gasping. A set of hard, shocked and suddenly anxious eyes against a pair of surprised, agonized eyes. Peter blinked at Claude before dipping his head. Claude knew it wasn't in shame, he just couldn't bear to see the emotion's in Claude's eyes.
"Sorry" muttered Peter, glancing back up and holding Claude's gaze. The man didn't seem to blink, just look with anguish.
"You're not" came the reply, in an almost correcting voice, "you just did exactly what you wanted" and he turned from the pup, only this pup had grown significantly, and began to pace towards the cages, rubbing the stubble along his jaw line.
Peter stood in silence, watching a slowly pacing Claude. The man looked up from the floor and allowed his gaze to flick to Peter and he scoffed,
"Show me yourself, for God's sake, stop hiding behind stolen powers" he spat, with more anger in his voice then intended. Peter dropped his eyes before the words had left Claude's mouth. In what looked like a disorientated blur, the image of a long haired, young faced Peter disappeared for the dead face of a broken man.
Peter Petrelli had stubble around his swollen lips. His eyes remained the same as before. With combed-back greasy hair, and a long, black leather coat that came to his knees. His expression seemed aggressive, yet he seemed to be feeling pained by the way things were going. The most outstanding feature thought was the huge scar that went from above his right eyebrow to his jaw. It seemed like someone had carved his face like a Halloween pumpkin gone wrong.
"How the hell did you do that?" was Claude's immediate reaction, stopping in front of Peter and brushing his fingertips against the scar near his jaw. Peter moved his head out of the way and chuckled,
"Long story" he replied and with little effort, he covered it so that his face no longer looked damaged with his power. Claude scoffed,
"I bet it is" he replied and then stood, looking at Peter. In a sharp movement he shoved Peter backwards and began back tracking his steps, shouting with loud hand gestures,
"Damn it Peter! You're still so easy! I can read you like a fucking neon sign! Forget a bloody book, you're too fucking bright!"
Peter didn't reply, just listening. God, how he'd missed that voice.
"That's it isn't it? You've come back because I'm not there in the future" and Claude stopped, not too far in front of Peter and his eyes showed the anguish they had when he pushed Peter out of their kiss. "I'm dead, aren't I?"
He said the words slowly, yet rushed. It wasn't too hard to piece the puzzle together. Yet some part of him was refusing to believe that he had died. Human instincts are to stay alive.
Peter froze at Claude's words. The fear in his tone. Something Peter had rarely heard in Claude's voice. And that made it so much worse. He stopped everything, even breathing, and stood, looking at his old friend with wide eyes and a breaking expression. He knew he eyes were glistening with unfallen tears, his legs shaking and he could feel the lump in him throat forming.
He saw it in his mind. The death of the man in front of him. Watching in shock as Claude fell, his body going limp as he did. His eyes falling, wide and agonized, on Peter as the life left them, dull and glazed.
He threw himself from the world where he stood in front of an accusing and begging Claude. He concentrated on his own heartbeat. He let the noise fill his ears, his mind, and his everything.
Da-dum. Da-dum. Da-dum. Da-dum.
Each agonized beat. The words echoed against the music of his shattered heart. 'I'm dead, aren't I?' Hearing those words, so blunt, from a voice that should never speak them. He closed his eyes and snapped his head to the side as he inhaled quickly and deeply.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!" he said, turning his body around fully and putting both hands behind his head. He should never have come here.
Claude looked at the turned figure of Peter in a frozen form. He didn't deny it. Wide eyed with shock and his heart pounding like a hammer against his chest, heavy and burdened, his replied in an surprisingly calm voice,
"Shit…" Peter looked up into Claude's frozen expression. Astounded, Claude swallowed and turned, beginning to fuss with the cages, yet again. Peter had noticed that the green eyed man seemed to always do that when he was thinking. Or when he couldn't bear the silence. Or even when he couldn't stay still.
Claude's mind didn't go blank. Nor did it suddenly rush with overwhelming feelings. Instead it seemed quite accepting of the idea that his life had finally found its end after defying death more than once. It was surprisingly easy for him to understand. Yet, as with every human, curiosity got the better of him. He looked up after what seemed like a long silence and was about to ask when he met a pair of now dull, dead brown eyes.
Claude found himself on his feet again, and standing in front of a man he didn't know, and a man who had once meant something to him. He put a hand on his shoulder, forcing him to lift his brown eyes to meet soft, stormy green ones that seemed to bore into his soul.
"I'm sorry…" whispered Peter, his dark figure seeming to melt into this vulnerable, tiny man. Claude smiled, his brilliant, massive grin,
"Don't apologise, friend" he replied and Peter frowned at him, suddenly flinching in dolour.
"I should never have come here" whispered Peter, almost to himself. Claude's smile faded and he asked in a low voice,
"How? How do I die?"
Peter stopped breathing. His face twisted in tortured misery. He eyes yet again shined as they filled with devastated tears, and he felt his power slipping through his grasp and his scar flicker from appearance to invisibility. He shook his head slowly and replied in a dark tone,
"I think I've fucked up the timeline enough". Claude reaction surprised even himself.
I one quick movement, Peter was thrown roughly back against the wall, his head pounding like a power drill and his eyes forced shut. Claude pushed him into the wall harder, and Peter grabbed into his arms again, but not pushing him away. This was the healthy way to react to being told you've died in the future in Peter's opinion. Claude hissed through gritted teeth,
"You fucking tell me right now!" Peter didn't react to his raised voice. He had gotten used to it. Actually, he was pleased Claude was reacting this way. He normally kept it all inside him and let it out on innocent people for no reason at all. That was the reason for all his anger, for all his secrecy and that was the reason why he never let anyone in. Of course, Peter had changed all that, he had broken through that dark, impenetrable shell and he had discovered the horrific past of this green-eyed stranger.
"I-I'll try…" replied Peter, knowing his voice hardly sounded trustworthy. But, how could he bare to show any emotion knowing he might not have time to say something he'd regret.
Claude looked into those brown eyes. He saw a distraught man. He saw sorrow, and fear, he saw a slowly boiling anger, and a deep longing. He saw a man he had ever known, yet who felt like the second half of him. He let go of Peter and stepped back, his shoulders high and tense, his eyes sharp but suddenly softening, waiting yet dreading. Could he take this?
Peter stood, looking at a man whose face he knew so well, but who he hadn't known in so many lifetimes. Claude wanted answers, but like every human, he didn't. Peter spoke with the same unfaithful voice, trying to blot out the pain of admitting what had happened.
"There's going to be a war. Between us and them. The evolved versus the rest of the human race" He laughed a dark, humourless laugh, "My brother, Nathan, he started all this. They hunted us, like criminals, because of our abilities. And they, um, tried to imprison us. That's if we were lucky. The dangerous ones the killed on sight. There were so many fights, big ones, between us and them. And there was this huge one, so many of us fell that day. But, t-they…I tried, I tried so hard, but I was too late. You-you fell, and you were already dead before you hit the ground. I-I watched as-as they…I killed them, of course, I killed them all. But you-you were lost.... And I wasn't powerful enough. Wasn't strong enough. Wasn't fast enough to stop it. And now, you're-you're gone…"
Peter put his hand to his mouth and turned away. Damn it! How the hell do you tell someone their death? Especially when it's him…he thought.
Claude nodded his head, to himself as Peter couldn't see. He closed his eyes and swallowed the lump in his throat. He had asked. Going down fighting, it's what he always wanted. God knows it could have been worst. And Peter said his killers paid for it, so he was avenged. An honourable death. And that's why he wasn't stressing out. That was why he wasn't terrified. That's why he smiled sadly and walked up to Peter, putting a hand on his shoulder.
"Thanks" he said, breaking an uncomfortable silence. Peter looked up to him, his eyes were glossy. He couldn't imagine what it was like to describe a death to the very person who'd died. And he didn't know the kind of relationship Peter had with his future self. But he had an idea. Peter looked away, up back into the black sky. He saw his scar waver on and off from his face.
Peter saw it over and over again, the death of Claude. But he pushed that away from his mind, and another memory revealed itself to him. Something that suddenly made sense. He felt his throat jerk as his heart twisted.
"Not long before we went to the prison, I found you around the back of the warehouse. We'd just decided the plans to go and bust out all the inmates. You were crying". Peter laughed darkly and looked into Claude's sad, yet warm green eyes. "I couldn't believe it. You never cried. But you were". Peter shook his head with a bitter smile. He never thought he's see those green eyes with a few tears falling, but he did. He remembered how Claude wiped his eyes as soon as Peter walked out the door. And he remembered the broken, dead smile he'd given him.
"When I asked, you wouldn't tell me why…" he voice broke on the last word. He looked down and swallowed against the lump in his throat. He knew now. Claude already knew what was going to happen, and it was Peter. All along it was Peter that had told him. He'd wondered why Hiro had sworn never to travel into the past. Now he knew why. It just hurt too much.
Claude squeezed Peter's shoulder encouragingly. Peter looked up and he watched a tear fall silently down his cheek. His cheek that was flaring from scar-less to mauled. Eyes of green sorrow bore into Peter's.
In one swift movement, Peter turned around, facing Claude, and taking a hold of the green eyed mans face, kissed him. It was another rough, hungry kiss. A hopeless kiss. Claude didn't stop him. It was harsh and hurt both their already swollen lips, but it happened none the less. Peter felt another tear fall involuntarily.
Peter settled his hand on Claude's back, pushing his body closer against the others. He closed his eyes tightly, almost to the point where he looked like the kiss was excruciatingly painful for him. He forced himself onto Claude, in hope to force Claude onto him. He tried to remember everything. The smell, the taste, the feelings he felt, and the way it felt. He never wanted to forget. To carve it into his mind as a constant reminder. He wanted never to forget.
Claude remained, not motionless, but more like a side-effect to a cure. He didn't hold the feelings he imagined he would yet, but he knew that the man in front of him would never be able to feel them again.
When they pulled apart, both were breathing heavily. Peter let go of Claude and ran his fingers through his hair,
"Sorry…" he mumbled again and Claude grinned,
"You're making a habit out of this mate". Peter smiled sombrely, it's had been a while since he had been called friend or mate by that voice. He knew that there were still tears in his eyes, but he chose to ignore them. Claude sighed and rubbed the stubble around his mouth, "I need a drink" he mumbled and Peter chuckled,
"Tell me about it" he replied. Claude sobered up and said,
"Promise me something". To which Peter froze and looked at him with eyes of distress and dread.
"Anything" he replied, his voice careful. Claude put his hand on the brown-eyed pups shoulder,
"Don't come back. I'm dead to you, and if you keep coming back, then you'll definitely mess the timeline up. Just move on. Let go. And for once, do something that isn't so bloody selfless. Save yourself as well as the world. Just let go friend". And Peter's faced dropped in twisted agony. He closed his eyes and dropped his head, gulping.
"I know you'd say that…" he replied and Claude sighed. He did a fake grin,
"Don't change that much then" and Peter smiled like it was a private joke, but it didn't reach his glossy eyes. "And if you start singing 'I would do anything for love' I swear I will kill you". Peter smiled again but he nodded his head.
"Like I said anything". And Claude gave his shoulder a squeeze before letting go. Peter smiled sadly at him.
Peter knew he never should have come here. He knew he should have just stayed where he was, and he should have moved on, on his own. And, god damn it, even Claude knew that! He hated himself at that minute, not only for doing this to himself, but for Claude.
"So, what do I do now?" Claude said, trying to break the silence. Peter rolled his eyes,
"I think I've fucked up the timeline enough". And Claude grinned, "You're the invisible man. You can walk around the corner and disappear forever. No one will remember you. No will even know you were there. And no one will ever ask about you. Just like that, you'll be gone".
Claude smiled at the copy of words he spoke himself, a long time ago. He patted the side of one of the cages quietly.
"Do I ever stop running?" he asked, looking up to Peter. The brown eyes smiled at him,
"When you find a reason to stay". He simply replied and Claude grinned,
"Where to now friend?" Claude asked, feeling the time to part was nearing. Peter rolled his eyes,
"I'm going to go back, still got a lot to do, you know. Saving the world and all that". Claude grinned, but he saw that Peter wasn't.
Peter sighed, a sigh of regret. Of melancholy. Of woe. And of anxiety. He wouldn't come back, he had sworn he never would. He knew, oh god he knew, that he'd fucked up the timeline enough. He didn't even know if it would be the same in the future.
"I've stepped on enough butterflies…" muttered Peter and Claude frowned,
"What did the butterflies ever do to you?" Claude accused but before Peter could looked puzzled, he continued, "Anyway, you self-centred twit, I meant where do I go now? Don't want to miss my queue and all". Claude grinned and Peter frowned uncomfortably,
"I don't know…" he replied and Claude rolled his eyes,
"Just give me a name". He demanded and Peter stood silent for a while, his brow creased.
He'd disturbed everything up enough already, but he knew everything must work out alright, because Claude already knew he was going to die. But it isn't a straight line, it's possible to be born in the future and die in the past, so it's possible that he's just changed the whole of history. But one word wouldn't do too much damage would it?
"Columbus" Peter said eventually and Claude gave him a quizzical look,
"Ohio? I go to Ohio?" and Peter chuckled,
"You had that look on your face when I met you there. South Fourth Street. Number 1240. The kitchen to be precise". Peter said and Claude shook his head,
"Bloody Ohio. Went there once, long time ago, I-" but Peter cut him off,
"You went with the company and ended up getting attacked by a man who had the power of telekinesis, and that's where you got the scar on you shoulder. And the one on your back. And just beneath your right ear" Peter finished, his eyes flashing to the named scars as he spoke. Claude frowned and reached up to the feel the scar beneath his ear,
"Okay then…That's just a little bit scary…" Claude replied and Peter chuckled,
"Sorry". But Claude grinned too, despite the thought of wondering how Peter knew about the scars on various parts of his body. He noticed Peter blush slightly.
"It's alright. And a good idea would be not to listen to what I'm thinking" he added and Peter grinned,
"You've said that before" and Claude shook his head. Not yet he hasn't. Claude coughed and replied,
"Well, friend, I believe this is goodbye". And Peter's expression hardened.
"I believe it is" he replied in a deep, dark voice. Truthfully, Peter was in agony. He would get over it, he knew, but that didn't ease the pain. How do you get over the death of someone you…feel that sort of feeling about? That feeling that he still cursed. He nodded his head to himself in reassurance. This had to happen.
Claude rubbed his stubble uncomfortably, and laughed,
"You know, it's pretty weird" he said and Peter didn't seem to react, forcing himself into a plain appearance,
"What is?" he asked in that same aggressive voice,
"Having the end before the beginning". Claude replied blankly and pushed his hands in his pockets. It was fucked up in his opinion. But of course Peter looked like he was being tortured, so he wouldn't say that. However, having to go through the rest of his life, no matter how long he has left, he'll always know when he'll die. He'll also know when the end is coming. And he'll, at some point, although it isn't certain, will have feelings for Peter.
And looking at him after his death, seeing the state he's left Peter in after his death, it almost made him want to forget about Columbus, and to run away. Running was something he did well. Running and hiding. Save all this pain, and his own pain. Death was something he'd rather avoid. But he wouldn't do that. Because whatever the reason was, whether it was the very man in front of him, or whether it was beauty of Ohio, he found something good. Something for wondrously amazing, something so life changing that it would, in fact, change his life. He finds a home. A life. He finds something he can't part with. And after the life he'd had so far, that didn't sound so bad to him.
Peter's eyes softened. He sighed and replied,
"This isn't the end for you. Only for me. You have the whole of that before you. All that time, the lot of it. This is a preview of what you do to me. Of how strongly you affect me. So strong that I turn into this when you're gone" And he moved a hand down his front, "true, I'll miss you. I'll hate what happened, and I'll hate that I couldn't stop it. That I couldn't get you back. That under your damn strict orders, you stubborn bastard, I had to cremate you and couldn't use my blood to heal you".
Claude grinned,
"Stubborn bastard, sounds like me" he replied and Peter again didn't react, instead he frowned,
"But, despite it all. All I'll have to go through, all I've gone through. I'll cope. And one thing I know for certain. I would go through it a thousand times rather then never see you again. Now or then".
Claude nodded his head. He'd go to Ohio.
"Goodbye, friend, and good luck. With saving the world and all". Said Claude. Peter kept his stern face. He didn't react to the words in any way.
"Thanks. You too" he replied in that same dark voice. He didn't show any emotion. He couldn't bear to. Saying goodbye to someone you, and god knows how much he had denied it before, but it was true. Someone you love. It was unbearable. He just stood there, tense and obscure.
Claude grinned at him one last time, didn't make a move towards the stranger in front of him, and didn't say anymore. He figured that the quicker this was over, the better. Peter didn't react, yet again. Claude turned on his heels slowly, and began to walk to the door that led into the building.
Peter found himself falling from his stern and dark mask into the face of a man whose very soul was burning. He couldn't bear the goodbye. He wanted to leave, right now. To disappear, without another word, without even touching him again. Just to go. Because it he held him, kissed him, brushed his shoulder, then he would never be able to walk away.
Yet a part of his was screaming, was wailing, 'Just tell him! This is it; this is the end of it all! You'll never see him again, and you'll never get a chance to say it to him again! Three words, three words that you'll regret never saying your whole life it you don't do it now!'
"Wait!" Peter said, and Claude turned. Peter froze, mid step and looked at Claude.
Claude saw a man who was about to die. And this man looked like he was having an inner battle. Peter swallowed and shook his head,
"I…I…Oh, you know!" he finished. Claude opened his mouth to question him but in the beat of a heart, Peter was gone. Returned back to his true time. Claude smiled and turned again, walking from the rooftop. If he hurried, he could be in Ohio by dawn.
A/N: First heroes fic. First slash fic. I imagine I might have made Peter and Claude really feminine and if I have, I'm sorry! I don't pretend to be a brilliant writer, and I know I'm not so there! If you don't like slash, then you shouldn't have read it. Review please! This is a one-shot by the way! :D Happy Saturday! x