Title: Nostalgia
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Arthur/?
Disclaimer: I own nothing
Spoilers: None. Takes place during "Dying of the light" (Season 3)
Summary: Everyman has a weakness.
Note: I'd like to note I wrote this before the episode Villains or even before It's Coming, but it was scary in character. It was inspired by a picture prop seen in Arthur's office during one of the commentaries.
Nostalgia
Arthur Petrelli took a swig of his scotch with ease while he perused the files in front of him. He drank it with no inkling to the outside world that he had been a year without it. He set the glass down on the bar and caught sight of a picture from his old life, a picture of his family. He picked up the silver frame that used to sit on his office desk and felt a tinge of something, nostalgia maybe, the smiling faces of his family; happier times. He set the picture down and went back to his files.
"You have to stop calling me like this." Came a cool earthy voice from behind him.
Arthur didn't answer her as she entered. The doors closed behind her and the brunette beauty sauntered toward him at the bar. She wore a coral-colored dress with no back, long, with matching high-heel shoes, making her his height, a large gold necklace around her neck with diamonds on her hands and wrists.
Arthur finally turned toward her. "A man is only human." He watched her walk closer to him with a look only a man can give a woman.
The woman gave him a look back that said she knew he liked watching her walk toward him and she liked it that he liked it. Her brown, almost hazel eyes gleamed.
Arthur looked at her with nothing but lust. He took a drink of his scotch and sat it down on the bar.
The brunette woman sat down on the barstool next to him. Arthur, who had put his eyes back to the files he was reading ,set his hand on her thigh and ran it over her leg without looking at her - it was very familiar.
"I didn't come here to be ignored," she cooed.
Arthur faced her and ran his hand over her neck and down her body. He then grabbed her forcefully and kissed her, running his hands over her in all the ways he missed, being paralyzed for a year - all the ways a man liked to be with a woman.
She giggled and set her head back, tossing her long dark hair.
"Angie" He whispered.
"Never call me that!" She barked.
He looked her dead in the eye, shocked at the modern attitude of the image of his 1970's wife.
"You always thought you could control me. Make me subject to your power, didn't you? Well, that time is long gone and buried, Arthur." She gritted his name between her teeth.
He grabbed her throat, but she only grinned.
"Say you don't care. But you're the one who brought me here."
And then she was gone, as she always was, for she wasn't real, never was, not anymore. She was only a memory.