Howdy doo, peeps. Random thing I felt like writing down... Really junk ending, but I don't care. I own nothing.
"Hey, mister! That's not a very nice thing to do!" the little red-headed six-year-old shouted, crossing her arms and glaring at the empty space next to a bench where two women sat, talking animatedly. They gave her strange looks, one of them giggling, but Niki just crossed her arms and continued to glare. "Put it back."
"Niki, what are you talking about?" Peter asked, walking up to her with two ice cream cones in his hands, one chocolate and one vanilla.
"The man with the beard took her purse," Niki huffed, pointing. "But he put it back when I told him to," she added proudly.
"The man with the beard?" her father repeated, looking bemused. "Niki, there's no one there."
"Yes there is," she said. "He was gonna take her purse."
The woman she was pointing at looked down at her feet, where a small purse sat, then smiled at the girl. "It's still here, love," she said brightly. "Don't worry." Her companion smiled and murmured something about overactive imaginations.
"See, Niki?" Peter said soothingly. "No one there."
"Yes there is!" she insisted. "He's walking away right now."
Peter shook his head at his daughter's antics, then turned to the women. "I'm sorry. She's got quite an imagination."
"I'm not imagining it," she said, sounding annoyed.
"Ice cream, Niki?"
"Chocolate!"
And the event was forgotten for the day. Peter had finagled his schedule around so that he was at work all night and Emma most days; that way one of them was at home with the kids at all times. All the same, neither of them tended to have any special time with their children, so on on one of the few weekends Peter had off of work, while the boys were at a birthday party, he had taken Niki, his youngest, on a father-daughter date to the park. This involved slides, carousels, ice cream, and - apparently - sightings of invisible bearded men. Peter had easily dismissed it; it wasn't the first time Niki had claimed to see something that wasn't there, though it was usually something along the lines of pink and green elephants.
That evening, Niki was describing her day in one long, breathless rush, only occasionally remembering to sign a few words so her mother actually knew what she was saying. Peter stood behind her and translated while Niki said excitedly, "And there was man with a beard who took a lady's purse but he put it back because I told him too and no one else could see him and..."
She continued, and Peter automatically signed the words for his wife, but her words had brought an old memory to his mind, someone he hadn't thought about in ten years. A man stealing someone's purse, someone only Peter could see...
That night, as he kissed his daughter's cheek and wished her good night, he said, "Niki, do you remember what that man looked like? The man who took the lady's purse?"
"Sure," she said, yawning. "He had a really big grey beard and blue eyes and he looked like he needed a bath. And his jacket didn't have any elbows in it." He smiled, thanked her, then told her to go to bed. "Love you, Daddy," she murmured, trotting off dutifully. One of the nice things about wandering around a park with her all day: she was actually tired come bedtime.
An hour later, Peter had just pulled on his coat and was bending down to tie his shoelaces when he because aware of the fact that Emma was standing behind him. "Where are you going?" she asked curiously. "You're off work, aren't you?"
"Yeah," he admitted, looking up at her. "Just going to check something out. I think I might have found an old friend."
"Are they special?"
"You could call him that. He threw me off the top of a thirty-story building twelve years ago to stop me from blowing up New York. I told you about that, right?" She nodded, and he added with a grin, "Oh, and I think Niki's power manifested today. Invisibility." Emma sighed.
"I'll check it out. Let me know when you get back."
"Will do." He stood to kiss her, then walked out the door and climbed into his car.
Half an hour later he pulled up in front of a building he hadn't visited in years. At ten thirty at night, most of the lights were out, but he could still see a few squares of light that meant someone in the Deveaux building was awake.
However, when he climbed into the elevator, he didn't bother going to a room. He went straight to the top floor, then took the stairs up one more story, where he found himself on the roof.
He stepped out slowly, tense, ready to use his current power - telekinesis - at a moment's notice. "Claude?"
No reply. Peter wished, for the first time in quite a while, that he had his old power back. It wasn't something he usually dwelled on, but in the current situation... Well, if Claude decided to throw him off the roof again, there wasn't much he could do about it.
He took another few hesitant steps forward, then automatically ducked and whirled around, stopping whatever had been coming at him. Not that he could see it, but he'd felt and heard the rush of air, and reflexes had taken over.
"Well, Peter, you've gotten better."
"Where are you?" he asked suspiciously, looking around the rooftop. He heard a footstep to his left, and automatically turned in that direction.
"What? Can't see me? Maybe you're not so good after all."
"I lost my power. It's a one at a time kind of thing now."
"Yeah? Well, mate, can't help you there. I'm afraid you'll just have to keep wondering where I am."
Peter called him a foul word, and Claude laughed.
"So how'd you lose it, anyways? Wasn't that Sylar bloke, was it?"
"His name's Gabriel," Peter said, wondering why on earth he'd wanted to see this man. He was only just remembering how much he had begun to hate him.
"Right. So he took your power then turned superhero, tossed you a couple of treats, and you forgave him just like that, didn't you?"
Peter dodged another invisible blow, spinning around and clenching his teeth together. "It wasn't Gabe."
"No? Shanti virus?"
"Arthur."
"Ah. He would do that to his own son."
"Dad did a lot of things."
"Speaking of dads, who was that little girl with you? Not your daughter, was she?"
"Niki, yeah," Peter replied, still scanning the rooftop for some sign of where the man was. His voice was impossible to locate.
"Invisibility, huh?"
"Well she could see you," Peter pointed out, finally giving it up as a lost cause and leaning against the wall, crossing his arms agitatedly. "So yeah, I guess she's going to turn invisible sometime soon."
"Just manifestin' her powers. That's cute, that is."
"Shut up."
"Ooh, the poodle's got a bit of bark. Down, boy." Peter fought the urge to growl, knowing it would only give the older man cause for more ribbing.
"So I take it you didn't blow up?" Claude asked, sounding just a little bit bored with the whole conversation.
"No, I still blew up. Just not here. No thanks to you," he added, not wishing he had just left well enough alone and written Niki's sighting off as imagination. Claude grunted, and Peter heard a slight creeeaaakas he sat down on the bench.
"Well, I at least kept you out of trouble for a time, and that was no easy task." Peter scowled, and Claude laughed again.
Feeling a need to change the subject before he lost his temper, he said, "So you're still stealing. How long have you been in the States?"
"Now why would I tell you a thing like that?"
Peter shrugged. "I'm just curious," he said honestly. Claude sighed.
"Curiosity killed the cat, kid. Anyways, I've been here almost a year. Didn't think I'd run into youthough."
"Why? You think I was dead?"
"Hoped is more like it."
"Well you didn't, anyways. You ran into my daughter. I followed along after."
"Speakin' of which, who's her mum? Can't be that girl you were moonin' over a decade ago?"
Peter tensed. "No, not Simone. She died a while ago." Before Claude could either ask about it, poke fun at Peter, or make some other sort of comment he didn't want to hear, he continued, "I married Emma Coolidge. She's a doctor at Mercy Heights Hospital."
"Doctor, huh? Aim high, Pete me lad, aim high." Peter gave the empty space where he was sitting a disgusted look, inducing more laughter out of the man. "Don' worry, I'm sure she's the sun, moon, an' stars to you, you stupid empath. Always did feel too strongly. Gets in the way of good sense. Especially when it comes to women."
"What, you never cared about a woman?"
"Nope."
"In your whole life, you've never loved a girl?" Peter asked skeptically.
"That is none of your business, pretty boy."
"Course not."
"I'll throw you off the roof again."
"I'll break the teaching stick."
"Oh no.Not the teachin' stick." A pause. Peter smiled slightly, waiting, and finally Claude chuckled. "Yer an idiot, boy."
"So," Peter said, leaning against the wall and trying to make himself more comfortable, "what've you been doing the past ten years? Molly mentioned that she'd met you."
"Molly... Oh, Molly! That one. Yeah, we met. I brought her back to India once her so-called 'friends' ditched her."
"Rebel."
"Is that what they call themselves? Stupid adolescents."
"Not really adolescents now. Molly's in her third year of college. Micah graduated already, and I don't really know about the other ones."
"Still keepin' tabs on all the people you've helped. You're adorable."
"Thank you. I'd return the compliment, but I'd really hate to lie."
Claude made a soft noise that might have been agreement or disgust, and they stayed silent for several moments, Peter examining the few stars visible in the sky through the bright city lights and pollution.
"So you disregarded every single one of my lessons."
"'Lessons' meaning abuse, did you mean physical or verbal?"
"Mental.You got married and had yourself a nice little family. How many kids you got?"
"Three."
"And you love 'em all, don't you?"
"Of course."
"Idiotic. Remember what I told you? You get attached to people, you get hurt. You get hurt, you get angry. You get angry..."
"I throw you off the roof. I get it, Claude, but I only have one power at a time now. No fear of me blowing up nowadays."
"Hm."
Peter resumed staring at the sky as though it had whatever answers he was looking for. He could hear Claude's quiet breathing ten feet away from him.
The silence was broken by a shrill beep.
With a sigh, Peter pulled out his phone and read the text. Chris's having another nightmare. R u almost done?
His gut clenched. His second oldest, Christopher, had inherited his father's original power. He had only manifested it a month ago, but after a visit from Grandma he'd woken up screaming every night for the past week. It made Peter sick, because he knew that short of wiping his son's memory, there was nothing he could do.
Leaving in a few minutes. Be home soon,he typed back, wishing like anything his child had gotten a normal power. Nate flew, Niki could turn invisible... And Christopher did it all.
"What's with the face, poodle?"
"My son," Peter said stiffly, putting his phone back in his pocket. "He got precognition from my mom last week; he's been having nightmares."
"Poor kid," Claude said fervently, and Peter raised his eyebrows.
"I thought you hated people."
"Kids aren't people yet. They're like animals stuck in an abusive home right now; sweet and cuddly and innocent, but pretty soon they'll be bitin' the hand that feeds 'em an' attackin' strangers."
"That's nice," Peter said vaguely, thoughts elsewhere. "Look I've got to go..."
"Save the world."
"Just my son tonight."
"You do that. And I'll stay here with my pigeons."
Peter was already walking towards the door, but something in Claude's voice made him turn around and ask hesitantly, "Claude, do you... have a place to stay? I mean, my couch is- OW!"
Claude snorted, and he turned visible just long enough to say, "I don't need your pity, Poodle. I'm fine here."
"just asking," Peter muttered, rubbing his head. "You didn't have to hit me."
"Now I remember why I threw you off the roof. Get outta here, Peter. Go see to your kid."
"See you around, Claude."
"We'll see about that."