Surprised to see me? Believe me I'm just as shocked hehehe. Actually I came across this story I had started ohhhh so long ago and, after being inspired by reruns (so sad) of Heroes on G4, I decided to finish it. I had fun and I hope you enjoy it. As always, this is set in my AU, there are quite a few other stories set before this so it probably would be a good idea for you to be familiar with those as well to fully enjoy this story. Don't feel like it? Well the main difference in my story is that the Heroes live in a world where Advanced People live with their abilities out in the open, though naturally that has spawned all kinds of other departures from the canon. Enough from me, please enjoy and review!
Growing Up the Hard Way
When Nathan had finally capitulated to years of being pressured to run for office he had never realized quite what all would be expected of him; though he was well suited for the political life, to be sure. That unrelenting spotlight hit just so, highlighting his estimable qualities like his admirably patriotic tour of military service while deftly shadowing certain indiscretions such as the pesky illegitimacy of his first born or his brother's unorthodox career choice. He had the inoffensive humor, charming smile and charismatic expression down pat. Even after half a year of campaigning, he still recited his mission statement with enough pathos to actually convince people that he believed his words; whether or not he truly did was a moot point. Though the position was not yet won, the candidacy alone offered a level of respect deemed highly satisfactory to the young man's burgeoning sense of power-lust. He had always enjoyed the thrill of authority; he wore it like a finely tailored suit, it fit without chaffing and provided him with a, arguably unnecessary, boost of confidence.
For all the benefits of his new life, the political monster required much of him. A touch of self-abnegation and a dash of moral bankruptcy did not fulfill the beast's lusty appetite. It craved, above all else, time. That Nathan made his necessary offerings to this inexhaustible cupidity was made only too evident by the mounting piles of photographs on his wife's desk in which he was conspicuously absent. Monty's latest little league win, Simon's first day of preschool, Peter's most recent going away party and now…
"Mr. Petrelli," the startled voice snatched the man's attention away from the stack of papers he had been assiduously perusing for…he had lost track of how long. "What are you doing here?"
"Working," he answered matter-of-factly, pausing to rub away the throbbing pain growing between his eyes. "Gotta get this all situated before tomorrow's debate."
"But Mr. Petrelli," the young woman stepped further into the room, drawing the politician's eyes to a clock on the wall, "didn't you realize what time it is? Your daughter's birthday…I thought you left hours ago."
Nathan swore violently as he looked up in time to see the clock reach the top of the hour. "Why didn't anyone call to remind me?" he demanded, eager to lay the blame at some less personal alter. "Heidi? My mother? Dammit they know how busy I've been lately, how easily I lose track of what's going on. Can't depend on anything going right these days…" he continued to mutter while gathering his papers into haphazard pile.
The intern smothered a smugly knowing grin as she glanced at the phone perched on the corner of Nathan's desk. "You, um, have the ringer off," she informed the harassed looking candidate without making eye contact. Deftly transferring a large stack of folders from her left arm to her right with practiced ease, she lifted the receiver and punched in a series of buttons. "You have…ten new messages," she extended the receiver to the neophyte politico with what she hoped was received as a sympathetic grimace. An irritated shake of the head from Nathan instructed the girl to gently reinstate the object in its cradle. "I'll just go call you a cab," she helpfully suggested as the man donned his overcoat with violent shrugs, illustrating his misplaced anger at the innocent target in what the aide couldn't help comparing to a very one sided wrestling match.
Nathan absentmindedly nodded his assent to her suggestion, smoothing the collar of his taxing coat as it finally submitted to his aggressive toilet. He busied himself with ensuring that all of his papers were safely stowed in his attaché but as soon as the steady tattoo of his aide's heels against the hardwood floor faded into the silence of the nearly deserted office he snapped his intense glare to the traitorous telephone. He stepped towards it, muttering obscenities at the object, the sheer inanimateness of which made it oh so easy to blame for his current misfortune. Drumming his solid fingers against the arching back of the receiver, he coolly weighed the benefits of calling home. On the one hand it would definitely be easier to first acknowledge his mishap from behind the welcome obscurity lent by miles of telephone wire. 'Besides,' he reasoned sardonically, 'if I call ahead maybe they'll have the decency to finish burning me in effigy before I get home.' Finally stilling the motion of his hand, he lifted the receiver with a long suffering grumble and punched in the familiar number. It only rang once before the other line picked up. Apparently he was expected.
"Petrelli residence," Heidi's voice flooded onto the line, her tone even with just a hint of the frostiness he fully expected.
"It's me," Nathan responded with a small sigh, sinking into his plush chair. "Just how bad did I screw up this time?"
A soft rustling sound followed by the nearly imperceptible sound of his wife's footsteps told him that she was moving somewhere more private. He grimaced; it must be bad.
"Very badly," she unknowingly agreed after a few moments. "Nathan, what happened? I must have called to remind you a dozen times and you never answered."
"It was this stupid phone," he vehemently defended, deciding it wouldn't be good form to inform her that she had in fact only called ten times. "The ringer was turned off or something. All these interns running around, who knows what good they do when I can't even get a phone to work." If Nathan had expected any sympathy or understanding for his plight, he was certainly disappointed by the drawn out sigh he received in response. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked sharply, knowing his wife well enough to recognize that particular breathy disclosure.
"It's just so typical for you to blame this on anything other than yourself," she answered sadly, Nathan could just picture her slowly shaking her head, crestfallen blue eyes just the slightest bit downcast. "If it wasn't the phone or the intern it would be your assistant or the driver or the traffic…"
"I get it," he interjected shortly. Though it wasn't Heidi's nature to escalate from gentle remonstrance to scathing harangue, her quietly beseeching reproof was enough to recall Nathan's easily dismissed twinge of guilt to the forefront; it wasn't a feeling he relished. "What do you expect me to do here, I'm not Peter, I can't go back in time to fix this."
"I wasn't suggesting that you should, Nathan. All I wish is that for once, for once, you would just take respons…" a deep, steadying breath. "We're not having this conversation right now. This isn't about you or me or Peter or anyone else except a very hurt young girl."
Nathan screwed his face against unbidden images of a distraught Claire, reproachful eyes shimmering with tears. He cleared his tightening throat and shook his head to ward away the heart wrenching phantom. "Just…" he paused to dismiss the aide who had popped back into the doorframe, "just tell her work kept me late and I'm on my way now."
"Not this time Nathan," Heidi staunchly refused, though it certainly went against all precedence. "I'm not doing your dirty work. You can just explain your absence when you get here."
"Fine. I have to go," he replied brusquely, thoroughly piqued by the unexpected denial, "my cab is here."
"You do have a faster way of getting home," she reminded him mildly, tapping away her frustration via her anxious foot. "If you were to just fly…"
"We've talked about this," he snapped, tucking the phone into the crook of his neck while he gathered his belongings. "Right now isn't a good time for me to be flaunting my ability."
"So it comes down to your image or your daughter?"
Nathan whipped around as if slapped in the face by her bold statement, working his jaw and hating that he knew her words to be true. "Like I said, my cab is waiting. I'll see you in 20 minutes."
"Fine," the soft acquittal whispered across the phone line.
He waited awkwardly on the line for a few moments, not sure whether anything more was expected of him. Just as he opened his mouth to impart a gracious farewell a quiet click on the other end told him that the gesture was unnecessary. Wallowing in the feeling of being sorely abused by his wife's curt end to their conversation and expressing his irritation with a manly grunt as he slammed down the phone, he turned sharply on his heel and marched out the door, passing the waiting intern who was practically whistling in her valiant attempt at appearing nonchalant though they both knew that she had overheard every word. He eyed her sharply as she extended an exquisitely wrapped gift, daring the young woman to so much as comment upon his woeful parental attentiveness or his current rash of dilatory behavior.
Following an impressively quick mental rundown of all possible salutations while simultaneously considering the likelihood of each phrase being taken as inflammatory by her sometimes hot headed boss, she settled with a bland "Good-bye" and a tactfully reserved smile. When he flashed his winning, and what she now knew to be utterly affected, grin she knew that she had chosen correctly.
As soon as he was out of sight, rushing off to the waiting vehicle, she finally indulged in a disappointed sigh. When she had first joined the Petrelli team nearly half a year previously she had so idealized what had seemed to be one of the greatest men of her generation. Growing closer to the lawyer had sadly dispelled some of her, albeit more childish, illusions. What had seemed to be a heart focused sharply on family and justice at times appeared troublingly splintered between diverse interests that were far less innocent. The reform he touted as innovative and dangerous to the status quo was beginning to ring of all the same political jargon that had been resounding through the walls of Washington since the days of the revolution. The old Machiavellian cant that the ends justify the means was becoming too prominent in the behind the scenes workings of his campaign as well as in his private life, facts perhaps indiscernible to the general public but made painfully evident to the unobtrusive young assistant.
'Once he's elected,' her lingering thoughts piped up hopefully as she locked up and started for the subway, unaware that she echoed the desperate optimism of the entire Petrelli family, 'everything will go back to normal. Then he'll be the man of his word, a man of his potential.' Her heart throbbed as if in warning. 'He has to be.'
Pulling up to his home that night Nathan decided that Peter had definitely suckered him into watching one cheesy horror flick too many. What else could describe his immature expectation that dark storm clouds, heavy with symbolic lightning and thunder, should be gathered about the vaunted roof of the Petrelli homestead? The mysterious materialization of a swarm of bats or the cry of a skeletal black cat wouldn't have been amiss either. When the unexpected backfire of a car sent Nathan jumping out of his skin he frowned and propped up his collar. "Knock it off, Petrelli," he scolded himself as he squared his shoulders and made his way up the walk. "You're a man, act like it." He paused at the beveled glass doors, gripping the handle and reminding himself of his resolve to be firm with Claire, calmly explain the circumstances that kept him from her in a rational and straightforward manner that was sure to appease any hurt feelings.
After taking a deep breath he cautiously opened the door, peering around before entering the foyer. Noting that no lynch mob awaited him at the foot of the staircase, he stepped inside and closed the door as quietly as possible. "Heidi? Ma?" he called as he walked further into the house, depositing his attaché on a side table along the way. "Claire?" He poked his head into the sitting room but found it to be empty. Silence greeted him in the dining room as well but as he turned to investigate the upper floor he heard the sound of hushed voices coming from the kitchen. He cleared his throat as he walked towards the swing door, steeling himself against the avalanche of icy countenances he was certain to have warranted. "God help me…" he muttered, pushing open the door to find his wife, daughter and mother sitting around the center island polishing off a slice of cake. Claire glared at her father out of red rimmed eyes and speared the last morsel with a violence that allowed no ignorance as to who she imagined at the end of her fork.
"Claire, you certainly have a right to be upset, but if you'll just try to understand my position…"
The teenager rolled her eyes and stormed toward the door, sighing impatiently when her father blocked her way.
"I'm trying to explain myself here but I need a little cooperation, okay?" He moved to lay his hands on her shoulders but they were promptly shrugged away. "I get it, no touchy, can I at least explain?" He asked, ducking his head in an attempt to meet her eyes. The weary father huffed and shoved his hands into his coat pockets when she staunchly refused to so much as look at him. "No response? What, you're just gonna ignore me?" Silence reigned throughout the room, even Angela wisely decided to stay out of the father-daughter confrontation for the moment. "You have nothing to say to me?"
After a moments contemplation Claire turned to grace him with hard eyes and a defiantly raised chin. "Yes, I do."
"Alright, let's have it," Nathan encouraged, eager to have the unpleasantness behind them.
She regarded him with tightly pressed lips for a second before saucily announcing "We ate your piece of cake and it was delicious" before roughly brushing past him to burst through the door.
A bewildered Nathan turned to face the other women in his life, hoping for some explanation or guidance. Heidi meekly shrugged her shoulders and watched him with wide electric blue eyes while Angela pursed her lips, leaving no doubt as to where Claire had garnered the expression, and nodded pointedly in the direction his daughter had fled.
Claire was midway up the staircase by the time her father caught up to her. She blinked away angry tears as he rushed into the entrance, calling out her name. She stilled but didn't turn when he moved to the foot of the stairs, wishing that he would be able to explain away the hurt she felt so keenly yet knowing from past experience that soothing comfort wasn't exactly her father's forte. She let fly a humorless guffaw when Nathan unwitting proved her point by demanding that she stop acting like a child and let him talk.
"Just save it," she exhaled sharply, whipping long blonde curls through the tense air as she tossed a glare over her shoulder. "I've already heard all your excuses over and over again. Don't even bother."
The harried father moved to rest his foot on the bottom step, inwardly sighing when she didn't scuttle backwards at his advance. "I was at work Claire," he drawled emphatically. "I wasn't off at some other party, I've been holed up in my office for the past half a day and time got away from me. I wanted to be here Claire, I did, but we don't always get what we want, it's just part of life. You said you understood that running for office would mean making sacrifices…"
"And I do," she insisted, finally turning around to face her father, though the hard look on her face hadn't been softened by the attempt at diplomacy. "We all do, down to the boys. That's why we try not to mention the missed dinners and awards ceremonies and sporting events. Because what you're doing is big and important, not just for our family, but for our community and the world." Pausing to catch her breath and roughly wipe away the few hot tears that had refused to stay hidden, she looked at the man below her through eyes that in shedding some of their burning anger allowed him a peak at the wealth of hurt that still remained. "But today, Dad, today was big and important too. Maybe not to the world, but for me it was. Shouldn't that be enough?"
"Claire…" Nathan began after a moment of hesitation. How could he respond to that pathetically plaintive query, especially as she stood staring down at him with those same sky blue eyes that had once been incapable of finding fault with his gallant being? The short answer of course was a resounding Yes, but that prompted a disturbing follow up question: So why didn't he make the effort? That answer he wasn't too keen to explore even in the sanctuary of his own mind.
Thankfully he was saved from any painful self exploration by the sudden ringing of the door bell. "Stay there, we're not done," he ordered with the point of an authoritative index finger, to which the girl responded with an unimpressed slouch in typical teenage fashion.
Nathan had barely pulled the door open when the quiet atmosphere exploded into cries of "Surprise, where's the birthday girl?" and his little brother barreled into the foyer.
"Peter?" Claire squealed, face glowing with delight as she rushed down the stairs at breakneck speed and hurled herself into the laughing man's arms. "What are you doing here?" she managed to sputter out as she pulled back just long enough to gaze up at his face and assure herself of his reality. "I thought you couldn't get the time off."
"And miss the one and only extremely vital sweet sixteen? What kind of favorite uncle ever would that make me?" he teased, playfully tweaking her nose and completely missing the cold front presented by his brother.
"Only the very best," Claire beamed, wrapping her arms tightly around his slim waist as they moved further into the house. "You have no idea…" her voice trailed off with a surreptitious glance toward Nathan who continued in his stoic state by the door. "We'll talk later," she added in a stage whisper.
Peter followed her gaze and the glad greeting on his tongue died as soon as he me the hard glare of the older man. He looked swiftly between the stubborn individuals, beginning to register the layers of animosity he had inadvertently waded into. Just as he began to inquire as to the origin of the sparks flying back and forth between the filial pair the other occupants of the house flooded into the small space with excited cries of surprise.
"I thought you couldn't get the time off?" Heidi asked after she had her turn at squeezing him with all the force of supreme gratitude.
"I couldn't at first but I switched some shifts, called in a couple favors and made it happen, no big deal." Peter explained humbly while covertly watching his brother seethe in the corner.
"And we couldn't be more pleased to have you with us," Angela stated matter-of-factly after pressing a tight lipped kiss to his forehead, "but like always I find you far too thin so come let us feed you."
"How's a guy supposed to deny such a sweet invitation?" he joked with a wink a Heidi, "Food sounds great mom, go ahead I'll be right in, just want to throw my bag upstairs."
"Of course," she nodded briskly and ushered the other ladies into the next room, fully understanding Peter's unspoken request to have time alone with Nathan.
Peter tucked his hands deep into his jean pockets and turn on his heel to find Nathan watching him intently, expression unreadable and arms akimbo. "I know we've had our differences, but the glaring me into the ground thing is new," Peter observed lightly, wandering over to pick up his bag as nonchalantly as if his brother wasn't all but snarling in his direction.
"Did you purposely calculate your entrance to make me look like an ass?"
Nathan's abrupt question served as an effective slap in the face, snapping the younger man to attention with a confused crease between his eyes. "What?" he asked with a small shake of his head, not quite sure he heard correctly.
"You heard me," Nathan advanced toward his brother, an unmistakable air of intensity radiating off his virile stature in waves palpable enough to push Peter back a step. "I miss Claire's birthday dinner and you just happen to show up to save her birthday? I don't believe it."
"Whoa, hold up," Peter cocked his head in disbelief, casting a searching gaze over his brother. "You missed her birthday? How is that possible, your office is what, 45 minutes away in gridlock?"
"That's not the point," he replied defensively, waving away his brother's outraged incredulity. "I asked you a question. Did you somehow use a power from your arsenal to make this day out so that you're welcomed with a freaking brass band while I'm shunted to the side?"
Peter laughed drily and tossed his bag onto the stairs. "You're always doing this, Nathan."
"Doing what?" he frowned deeply at Peter even as the younger man bravely held his gaze.
"Projecting your crap onto other people." Ignoring his brother's deep groan and mumbling about 'psycho babble mumbo jumbo', he continued. "Think about it, you feel guilty about screwing up, so, surely, I must have down something equally terrible. No pure motives, no good intentions, just back handed spite. What a world you live in, Nate," he threw his hands in the hair, exhausted from a long day and stinging courtesy of his brother's accusation. Still, Nathan stood against the wall, arms crossed and as unaffected as ever.
"Are you done, Dr. Freud?" he asked snidely to Peter's chagrin. "You never said No to my question."
Peter, tired of going round against a politician with the upper hand, had been on the cusp of storming from the room but whirled around to meet his brother nearly nose to nose. "The fact that its Claire's birthday is enough for me to go out of my way and make sure that I'm here. I guess I can't expect you to understand that, can I? Besides, claiming that it's unlikely for me to show up on a day you 'happen' to miss a family event is like saying it's a coincidence the moon rises after the sun sets."
Nathan grabbed his brother's arm as he pulled away. "Be very careful, kid," he fairly growled, "that almost went too far."
"But was I wrong?" Peter asked sincerely, allowing himself to remain within his brother's grasp though they both knew it would be only too easy for him to break free. "Nate, this is the first time I've even seen you in months. Where have you been?"
"Busy, Pete, with actual work," he let go with a shove. "I know that's not a concept you eccentric types value but nonetheless…"
"I know what it means to be busy. I know what it's like to have a father who's 'busy' too." Nathan eyed him steadily but for once didn't interrupt. "We had very different childhoods, Nate. To me dad was more an empty chair, a cold dinner plate and broken promises than an actual person. And when I was younger I admit it hurt to feel unwanted, unloved…especially discovering that those fears weren't quite so unfounded." Both brothers looked away, that was as close as they dared treat on that particular topic. "But pretty soon that hurt became resentment and anger. I stopped missing him, stopped asking mom when he was coming home. When he was around, I'd wish he wasn't." he slipped a hand onto the broader shoulder in front of him, soulful hazel eyes begging the older man to take heed. "I don't want that for you and your kids, Nathan."
Nathans smirk in response was more potent that a punch in the gut. "That's not gonna happen to me Pete. Come on."
"Claire wasn't exactly thrilled with you, was she?" Peter asked softly, noting the dark shadow of self-doubt flitter across Nathan's forcedly cocky visage. "I'm your kid brother so I've learned to accept my place as your punching bag and door mat," he softened the disparagement with a friendly open handed slap to the shoulder, "but Claire, Heidi, the boys….they don't deserve that and they don't have to put up with it."
Nathan turned his head at the somewhat cryptic tone. "Is there something I should know? Something you've seen?"
"It doesn't take a supernatural vision to know that you have to be present for relationships to work," he replied evasively, walking backwards toward the dining room and throwing thumb over his shoulder. "Come on, I heard the ladies in the dining room. Maybe they'll even let an exile like you have a bread crust or lump of cheese."
Nathan couldn't help the smallest of chuckles from escaping. "Enjoy your status as favorite while you can. Once Claire opens my gift I can promise you I'll be back in her good graces."
"We'll see about that," Peter smiled impishly.
"Believe me, I know my daughter and if there is a way to her heart, it's through my wallet."
After listening to Peter tell the story of his morning spent rescuing a rural Mexican village from a disastrous mudslide, Nathan pushed back his plate of leftovers with an appreciative sigh. Though upon his entrance Claire had made it clear that he was only involved in the late night festivities due to good will brokered by Peter's visit, just as he had predicted she was still gushing over her new cringingly expensive hand bag and had even thanked him with a smile. "That was delicious, thank you," Nathan smiled at his wife as he made one more pass of linen napkin over his mouth.
Heidi returned the warm smile, glad that the family atmosphere was beginning to thaw, but winced at Angela's grating interjection, "Yes, dear, excellent choice in caterer as always. It must have been so taxing to choose between all those samples."
Claire looked anxiously on as her mother went rigid at the thinly veiled slight and Nathan fought the temptation to bang his head against the table. "So, mom, I have the whole weekend off, how do you plan to entertain me?" Peter quickly swooped in with a distracting comment to the great relief of his companions.
"Well if I can manage to wrench you away from your nephews I might be able to schedule you an interview with Dean Carten at Columbia," she smirked knowingly. "He swore once you sufficiently grow out of this 'super-hero' phase they would be only too happy to have you."
"Me and the Petrelli money," he rolled his eyes, to Claire's wisely muted delight, and grinned good-naturedly. "We'll see about that, mom. And don't schedule any other interviews yet, at least… not until I give Claire her present." The roguish grin he flashed across to his niece was intercepted by his brother with a groan. The older man knew that smile well and loathed it.
"Peter, showing up was enough of a gift," Claire weakly protested but couldn't prevent herself from biting her lip in anticipation as peter drew an envelope from his side pocket with melodramatic deliberation. He lazily waved the slightly crumpled envelope in front of his niece, drawling "Well, if you don't want it."
She laughed and eagerly groped for the paper, ripping it open to see if the contents lived up to her young uncle's hype. The teen gasped and looked up at Peter, refulgent blue eyes shockingly large as she processed her surprise. "No!" she shouted across the table, for once ignoring her grandmother's pinched look of disapproval.
"It's the real thing, Claire," Peter smiled widely, pleased as punch with the girl's response.
"How did you get them?" she demanded, voice unnaturally high with disbelief. "They're sold out like a million years in advance!"
"So I have a friend in high places," he shrugged dismissively, not failing to notice the worry tightening his brother's features.
"What exactly are we talking about?" Heidi asked tentatively.
"Oh nothing major, just Linderman & Company!" Claire gave a little hop and squealed. "This is so cool, my friends are just gonna die of jealousy! This is the best gift ever," she lunged out of her seat to rush around the table leap at Peter, her new purse falling forgotten under the table.
"You're welcome, you're welcome, can I breathe for a sec?" Peter tried not to choke as he untwined himself from her spindly arms. "Do you want to keep celebrating or go get ready?"
"Get ready?"
"The shows tonight at nine," he laughed at the adorably confused look on her face.
"Nine?" she screeched, "but it's after 10 now!"
"Not in Las Vegas, it's not, Blondie," he teased.
She gave a playful shove and he basked in the empathic warmth of her gleefully bubbling laughter…until the cheery moment was interrupted by a cough from the head of the table. Sure he had the younger Petrellis' attention, Nathan eased back in his chair and tapped powerful fingers contemplatively against his bottom lip. "I wish you had approached me with this idea first, Pete."
"I….I didn't think…" Peter stuttered, his brother's judgmental pose making him feel six years old again and in trouble for breaking Nathan's baseball trophy. Claire recognized her father's mood too and she clenched the tickets tightly, her eyes tearing up in expectation of the battle that was sure to ensue.
"You know how I feel about Linderman and his…freak show," he spat, disgust apparent. "That man has made a mockery of all decent APs like," he paused to size up his brother, "well like me at least."
Peter bristled under the callously belittling comment, summoning the courage to battle down years of kowtowing to his big brother. "Yeah, I know, which is why I didn't get you a ticket. I don't know why you should care if we go though, it doesn't have anything to do with you Nathan."
"Nothing to do with me?" He stood and stalked over to where the pair stood, brushing aside his wife's plea for restraint. "You, my brother, want to take my daughter to an event, crawling with photographers mind you, which is in direct opposition to everything my campaign platform is pushing. That would be an utter disaster and I can't allow it."
"So again your campaign comes first?" Claire cried. "That isn't fair."
"I know you don't understand right now Claire, but this is for the best. Give me the tickets." He extended his hand expectantly, the tautly wound cords in his neck making it clear that debate was not an option.
"What if we just sneak in at the end?" she begged.
"Claire," he barked, "the tickets."
Peter crossed his arms and looked down when Claire turned to him for support. He was under the same thumb and at the moment he had no courage to offer her.
When a glance back at her father offered no sign of softening she choked back a sob and tossed the tickets onto the table, purposefully ignoring the still outstretched hand. "I hate you," she hissed before fleeing to the privacy of her room. Heidi followed without a glance or word for her husband.
Angela stood from her seat and slowly walked toward the door, pausing to pat her eldest boy's arm and whisper an unsettling "You truly are becoming a man after your father's heart" in an even tone that left Nathan unsure whether he had been complimented or cursed.
The two brothers were left alone, silently eying each other, waiting to see who would make the next move in the chess match that their relationship had become. Nathan sighed heavily and swiped up the tickets before marching out of the room. Sure that his brother would follow, he tossed over his shoulder "Have I thanked you yet for the delight of your visit, Pete?"
"Right, because this is my fault," Peter scoffed, indeed following his brother through the mahogany walled passages to the eldest's study.
"I'm sorry, but weren't you the one who brought these into my home?" Nathan slapped the tickets onto his heavy framed desk and dropped into his chair.
"Please, Nate, they're pieces of paper, not vipers," his eyes rolled to the back of his head as he slumped into the less luxurious chair opposite. "Look, I get that you don't like Linderman's production and that's your right, but it doesn't bother us in the same way, Nathan. I honestly never knew you even felt so strongly about the subject. I mean, how is watching a group of talented APs using their skills for show any different from taking Claire to an opera or ballet?"
"Because opera singers aren't fighting against ridicule and bigotry in their daily lives just to have the same rights and respect as everyone else. They're not ostracized, they can go home and blend in with the rest of the world and that's not something all APs can do, you know that," Nathan argued intensely, pounding a firm fist against the desktop. "There's no division between entertainment and real life for us, but we're not performing monkeys or side show acts. We're people and if we invite the world to view a group of us as freaks what's to stop them from labeling the rest of us under that category as well?"
"Its not like that," Peter slowly shook his head.
"And besides," Nathan continued, "I don't know of any ballerinas who have brothers up for election this next term. Everything this family does reflects on me and quite frankly I'm damn sick of have to field questions about my kid brother who flies around the world saving widows and orphans from flood, fire and mayhem. The hero thing is a joke, Peter, that's how the real world sees it."
Grateful faces of the innocents he had rescued only that morning flashing before his eyes, he ground his jaw and met his brother's taunting visage. "People talk about you too, Nate. Our people, the people you say you want to defend; and it's not usually nice stuff."
Nathan snorted unconcernedly. "Like I'm going to worry about the opinions of your backwards minority."
Swallowing his rising irritation in the hopes of still garnering Claire her Vegas show, Peter offered a compromise. "Say you're right about Linderman, my job, everything, this is still Claire's 16th birthday. What if I promise we remain unseen? I can make us invisible; no one has to even know we're there. It's a win-win."
"This isn't up for discussion, Peter." Nathan answered absentmindedly, shuffling papers into his desk. "I've made up my mind."
"But Nathan if…"
"That's enough, Peter," Nathan snapped, narrowed eyes burning dangerous into the younger man as he none too delicately picked up the tickets and thrust them into the drawer, slamming it shut with a dull thud of finality. "I know what's best for this family, and that includes you." He began to make his way out of the room, pausing beside his glowering brother. "Have I made myself clear enough for you?"
"Crystal," Peter replied darkly, watching the older man march off.
The Peter who ruled his existence by identifying himself first and foremost as the kid brother of Nathan Petrelli would have slunk off to bed, defeated and reeling from the overt reminder of exactly where he stood in the household ranking; the whimpering pup creeping away to lick his wounds. However, he wasn't Peter, Brother of Nathan, any longer. Valeroso, they had called him that morning. Brave, courageous. Nathan called him a hero with a sneer in an attempt to take him down a peg, but others had done so out of overflowing gratitude and appreciation for lives and livelihoods saved. Now, even in his home, here was injustice, unfairness and even a damsel in distress and Peter, Hero, refused to sit idly by.
"Claire…"
The girl roused as her urgently whispered name crept in through the door jamb. Wiping away her still falling tears she crept to the now silent door. "Peter?" she replied hesitantly.
"Yeah, let me in."
She quickly unlocked the portal and ushered in her smirking relative.
"What happened?" she asked, noting that with his overcoat and clearly freshly coiffed hair he hardly looked ready for bed.
"Go get ready Claire," he grinned out right and held aloft the two tickets he had liberated from Nathan's desk. "We're going to Vegas."
Yes technically the whole Linderman show thing has parallels with the carnival from the last tragic season of Heroes BUT I want to make the point that I first mention Linderman's show in Ships in the Night, chapter 1, published in March of 09, well before any mention was made of a carnival in the actual tv show. I really wasn't a fan of that story line...so I just don't want anyone to think that it was my inspiration hehehe.