Title: Reflection
Summary: ONESHOT She went back to staring down her reflection and for the first time found that she didn't like what she was looking at. AngelaLinderman
Disclaimer: Don't own anything.
Spoilers: Anything's fair game, pretty much everything till '.07' though this is mostly just my speculation.
Angela Petrelli sat at her vanity, taking out her earrings and studying herself in the mirror. Her age still wasn't showing, even in her forties, and her smug smirk showed exactly how she felt about that. She had always been confident in herself, and her looks, and that wasn't about to fade anytime soon. And nature appeared to be complying with her wishes.
Running a perfectly-manicured red fingernail down her jaw line she inspected her skin and, finding it flawless, her smirk increased and she shared a triumphant look with her reflection. Then another person joined her reflection and the smirk disappeared, replaced by a cold gaze that ran over the person, judging them.
"I suppose you took care of it?" She stated and his lips pulled into a lopsided smile as he ran his hands through his beard, which was starting to take on a salt and pepper look.
"You mean our granddaughter? You can be so cold sometimes Angela." He scolded her lightly and her face tightened at the mention of 'granddaughter'. But he, used to her moods and faces, didn't react, only running his fingers over the wilted petals of the flowers in a nearby vase.
"We said we were never going to talk about that again." She replied coldly, still not turning to face him, meeting his eyes in the mirror and doing enough damage through that. Still, he was unaffected by this, as he dropped the flower petals and turned back to her, his hands in his coat pockets.
"No actually, you said we weren't going to talk about that again. I agreed to no such thing." His hand went to his beard again and she felt a bristle of annoyance pass through her, it was always about the damn beard with that man. He was always preening himself, running his fingers through it, or over it, or just admiring it, it drove her crazy.
"Must you be so stubborn?" She sighed and he grinned mischievously.
"Of course." His smile, though wicked, was charming and she was frustrated to feel that it worked as well know as it had all those years ago.
"I suppose you put her with a good family." She changed the subject swiftly and he regarded her for a moment before inclining his head.
"Of course. She now resides in Odessa, Texas with the Bennets." He recited and she grimaced.
"How wholesome." Then she raised a perfect eyebrow, "And they work for you?"
"Well, the husband does." He admitted and her eyes narrowed.
"And he has no way of tracing-" She began but he cut her off with a look.
"Now, now, Angela, you know me. I despise loose ends." Still, it didn't comfort her fully and he saw this, walking up behind her and standing directly behind her. Leaning down, he began to talk in her ear, which affected her more than she was willing to show as his raspy voice filled her senses and his breath ghosted over her neck.
"I took care of it, do not worry any longer. I promise. No loose ends, no tracing, everything is perfect." He finished with a confident tone and she just met his eyes in the mirror. Her eyes were fiery, stubborn, unharnessed while his were cool, collected, and roguishly charming.
"If everything was perfect, we wouldn't be having this conversation." She retaliated and he grimaced, knowing she had caught him out.
"If everything was perfect, you would be my wife." He responded and she closed her eyes, as if he'd lashed out at her physically.
"Don't." She whispered and he ran a calloused hand down her neck and over her shoulders causing a shiver to run down her spine.
"We were in love." He whispered into her ear, his voice rough with wear yet soft with emotion. His hands moved down her back, before moving back up again and clearing her hair out of her eyes before leaning forward and pressing his lips to her neck. She leaned in to the touch and her brow furrowed lightly as she felt the familiar spark run through her for the first time in a while...
They lay on the bed together, spent, the covers tangling between their limbs. His hand tangled in her long dark hair and he pushed it back from her face, moving over to plant a kiss on her lips. He smiled into it and she ran her hands through his long dark locks. She loved his hair, how it fell across his face, how it splayed across the pillow and shined in the sunlight. It stuck to his forehead now, with sweat and she moved it aside, running her fingers over his slick skin and she kissed his smooth cheek.
"I was thinking about growing a beard." He spoke, palming his jaw, and she looked up at him suddenly.
"Why?" She demanded and he looked at her with a bemused expression.
"Do you have something strictly against beards?" He asked and she confirmed this with her expression. He laughed readily, an easy smile gracing his lips as he planted a kiss on her forehead.
"I love you." He murmured into her hair and she basked in this happiness, this bliss, this love. She looked up at him and smiled, something which she didn't do regularly until she met him.
"I love you." She returned and kissed him lightly.
"I'm pregnant."
"You're what?" He looked up, shock in his eyes and as he saw the resignation in hers he knew it was true. He sucked in a breath and then asked, "So what do we do?"
"You don't do anything." Her façade was firmly in place and his spirits sank as he saw this and she continued, ignoring him, "I will tell Richard and he will be ecstatic and we will continue in our marriage. Happy."
"You can plan everything out, but you can't plan happiness Angela." He warned her and there was a flash of pain in her eyes before she pushed it aside firmly and simply looked at him.
"Goodbye." Then she went to leave and he stopped her, a hand on her arm.
"You can't just leave, we're having a child, Angela. You can't make this disappear." He insisted and she just regarded him coldly.
"We both know that we have to." For a moment he saw the weakness behind the façade, but it disappeared a few moments later and she went to wrench her arm from him but he stopped her, defiance in his eyes.
"Let me go." She said coldly and he stared her down for a moment before giving in and letting her go physically, but he wasn't quite ready to let her go fully because as she left he began to speak.
"Do you really think that you're going to have a good life? You're the one who can get into other people's minds, other people's futures, Angela tell me, does Richard offer you a happy future?" He asked and her lip trembled for a moment, answering him more than her words could ever.
She appraised him coldly and left. He simply stood in the room, staring at the door longingly.
He was going to be a father.
But he was never going to see his child...
"What are you doing?!?" The demand by the man opposite brought him directly back to earth. Just in time to block an attack and dispatch the man with a simple thrust of the sword.
"Don't start with me, Sanders." He growled and Sanders shot him a dark look before dispatching his own attacker.
"You seem distracted." Sanders observed and he glared up at him as he wiped the blade clean.
"I don't want to talk about it." He snarled but Sanders didn't back off.
"I didn't suggest talking." Sanders snorted and then he shrugged, "We're male, we don't talk."
"You know sometimes I like your brother better." He remarked dryly, running his hand over his budding beard and Sanders smirked.
"I'm sure you do. This is about Angela isn't it?" Sanders asked and he looked up at him suddenly, his face betraying his answer.
"What-? How-?" He didn't have to finish the question because Sanders shrugged and answered coolly.
"You'd have to be blind not to see. Of course, her husband is that, lucky for you." Which caused him to growl in the back of his throat.
"Don't get flip with me, Sanders."
"I've seen the way she looks at you too-"
"Don't finish that sentence if you want to continue to breathe." He threatened and Sanders merely smiled easily back at him.
"You guys are in love, despite popular opinion, that does means something." Sanders claimed wisely and walked off. He watched him go and just shook his head sadly.
"You're wrong Sanders, oh how wrong you are."
"Don't do this again." She pleaded with him and he, seeing this, moved back.
"I'm sorry Angela." He apologised, caught off guard by her weakness that hadn't been witnessed by anyone before.
"Please leave." She asked, her voice steady, and he nodded slightly. He went to the door and then paused, reaching over to the wilting flowers and ran his hand over them. He glanced over his shoulder, but seeing her defeated pose, left with a furrowed brow and sorrow in his heart. He truly wished that things had been different when they'd met twenty years ago...
After she heard the door close she finally turned and, seeing the flowers newly healed, smiled sadly and then went back to staring down her reflection and for the first time found that she didn't like what she was looking at.
