Rain Man
Chapter 1
It's raining. Again. And Peter Petrelli does not like the rain.
It reminds him of the night Ricky found him. Rain pouring down like buckets of ice. He can still remember the dampness and the chill in the air. The cool steel of the handcuff and the huge void in his mind. Perplexed and bewildered, he was when they found him. And whenever it rained, he's brought back to that night.
The confusion. The emptiness. That hole in his chest, as if somebody's put their fist through him.
No. Peter Petrelli does not like the rain. Not one bit.
Caitlin's closing up the pub. She locks up the door after turning away the last few customers and stacking chairs up on tables. She gives the counter a meticulous wipe.
He guesses she doesn't like the rain either. The thought made Peter blink. He hadn't realized that he doesn't know much about her. Just that she's Ricky's little sister and that she thinks he's pretty. He smiles wryly.
What else does he need to know, right?
He unfolds his arms, pushing himself away from the doorframe. The sticky smell of ale and fish still lingering in the wet air. He rakes his hand through his dark hair, although the sensation is strange. As if it used to feel a little different than it is now. His footsteps echo heavily against the wood floors as she turns to smile.
Her smile made the hole in his heart vanish. It's something familiar. Something he recognizes. So, he allows himself to indulge in a grin back; his mouth falling open lopsidedly.
"Hey." He breathes, wounding his arms around her waist. She laughs in his ear, pressing a kiss to his brow. He traces the angles of her cheekbones with his lips, memorizing every sharp curve. He murmurs against her skin, "Closing up so early?"
She wiggles a little as he trapped her against the bar. She confesses with a sheepish smile, "I don't care much for the rain." He found her Irish lilt endearing. "Makes my hair frizz." She picks up a curly brunette lock for emphasis.
Peter kisses her again. His insides did funny stuff inside his stomach; a thrill of electricity sprinting through his veins. He lived for that feeling. The feeling that he was real. That she made him feel real.
He buries his nose in her long hair and inhales her scent of strawberries. Some fruity fragrance he can't quite put his finger on. But he knew he liked it. It reminded him of pie.
He brushes his lips against her eyelids. That kiss though, was for the insecurity.
"Aren't you curious, Peter?" She whispers as he tangled his fingers in her hair. "About what's in that box?"
He pulls away slightly, feeling torn, his hot breath glancing against her cheek. He doesn't know what to say to her. He doesn't want to say anything. His brows met in a deep furrow and the muscle in his jaw worked. He shakes his head silently.
He didn't want to talk about it.
Caitlin chews hesitantly on her lip, a nervous move that she made often around him. She burns her grass green eyes into his sunken gaze and insists, "Peter, just because you don't remember your past, it doesn't mean you don't have one."
He tries to smile, for her sake. After all, this didn't have anything to do with her. She had no part in this. This was about him and his fear of finding out who he is. This is about how he lacked the courage to accept himself. All of him.
"Weren't you the one who didn't want me to look in that box?" He tries to cut through the building tension between them. He tries to keep this all light and playful but he can't deny the hole that's opening up inside his chest again.
It works. She smiles her warm, delicate smile. "I only said that because you hadn't kissed me yet." Her pretty green eyes rolled skyward.
He grants her another deep, soul-baring kiss. And he hopes that it's enough to suppress all her questions. Questions he doesn't have answers to.
"Now that you have, you done with me?" He tucks a stray strand of brown hair behind her ear, his mouth pulling up into another uneven grin.
She laughs as he sweeps her off her feet, his fingers flirting with the hem of her shirt with her arms wrapped securely around his neck. She plays with his messy hair, "Gettin' there. After all, a pretty boy like you…" There she goes with the nickname. "—There's bound to be someone waiting for you...friends...girlfriend..."
Peter takes her to the backroom. This is his address now: Storage, Wandering Rocks Pub. Cork, Ireland. He had a place where he belonged now. A funny little jolt runs through him. This is his home now.
He kicks the door shut with his foot and kisses smiling Caitlin again. His own lips curving, and Caitlin can feel the delicious crookedness of his mouth.
"Let 'em look."
It's raining. Still. But it's all right, Tilly doesn't mind the rain.
Sure, it soaked the side of her pretty white sundress and her long, black hair is matted and damp against her head, but still…she doesn't mind. She doesn't mind the dampness or the chill either.
She had Jules.
Instinctively, she tightens her clutch on the handsome young man she's holding onto. Heat radiating off of him in furious waves. Jules is so toasty. The thin sheen of snow that remained from last night became a wet puddle beneath his feet, the weakly falling snow turned to rain around their shoulders. He stands as still as a statue, his buttery blonde shag falling over his shadowy eyes. He holds up the bright orange umbrella over their heads as if it were his sole duty in life.
To all the dock workers, they see a small, elfin girl with snowy skin and dark eyes accompanied by a stoic blonde gentleman with matching dark gazes, huddling under an umbrella. They would see that the couple is flanked by another man, similar in age to the blonde, with a russet red tan and cruel smirk.
"Excuse me." The elfin girl trills. Her soprano is crisp and clear.
Billy, the dock worker that spotted the trio first, turns to face her. Her long, silly hair went all the way down to her waist and was pitch-black. Her beam though, is pearly white. She's wearing a flowy sundress despite the icy weather, which made Billy deem her insane. He grunts once, tucking his clipboard under his arm before making a move to walk away.
"Excuse me, sir. I'm looking for someone." She's persistent, taking a step closer to him. The blonde follows her dutifully as she holds onto his arm for dear life. "Maybe you can help us." She sounds quite certain for one so small. Her features are all fragile and breakable, and her smile revealed dimples.
Billy blinks, then answers in his gruff voice, "No...I don't think so." He's learned to keep to himself after all these years.
She ignores his answer and hands him a photograph the blonde dug out of his jacket pocket. She thrusts it into his hand. "Have you seen this guy?"
A good-looking lad with intense eyes and hair that fell in front of his face.
"No," He shakes his head. "Never seen him."
The girl frowns, "Are you sure?" She asks, tilting her head sideways. He nods. She sighs dramatically, "Oh. How tragic."
Billy thought she'd go back to wherever the hell she came from. The Shire. Or...the North Pole. But she doesn't. She just continues to stand there, giving him the most incriminating stare, looking as if he had kicked her puppy or something.
Damn it. Billy's turning 59 tomorrow. He doesn't need this crap.
He scratches the back of his neck, "I think...um, one of the blokes said that they found a boy here the other night. In one of the containers. I'm not too sure about it though..."
She exchanges a glance with the blonde. Then back at her other partner, the brunette with the cruel smirk. She spares a grateful smile. "Thank you." She chimes.
Billy takes them to Will.
Billy's walking away when somebody caught his arm. It felt as if somebody was using it to put out a campfire. Searing bursts of heat seeping even through his windbreaker. He whirls around in shock. It was the blonde gentleman. And like he could sense Billy's discomfort, dropped his grip, and although Billy's sure he can find the imprint of his hand branded onto his skin, he doesn't say anything.
"You dropped something." The blonde states blankly, his baritone, which Billy thought would be more of a growl; savage and primitive; is in fact smooth and velvety. He was holding out his pen for him.
Billy takes it from him briskly without a 'thank you'. He tries to ignore the fact that the plastic is slightly melted from where the blonde touched it and he runs straight to see Ricky.
Peter spends a lot of his time staring.
He had many subjects. The floor. The ceiling. The people walking out on the street. He'd just sit in the table nearest to the window and…stare.
Caitlin would wait tables, Ricky would play cards and all would seem...not right, but comfortable. Familiar. And Peter longed for familiarity.
Today though, Peter found something different.
A girl in a sundress. She's sitting in the cafe across from the pub on one of the outside tables. Next to her was a blonde with a trench coat, his arm draped over the back of her chair. The brunette opposite of her is engaged in an intense game of solitaire.
They're all looking out at different directions, their seats angled away from each other but Peter knew they were all connected.
"Peter. I need to talk to you." Ricky sits down at his table and reluctantly, Peter tears himself away from his daily activity.
"Yeah?"
Ricky licks his lips, "There was somebody looking for you down in the docks today..." Peter's stomach flip-flopped, his chest tightening. "A girl...An American girl..." Ricky inclines forward, "Look, Caitlin has a flat uptown. You can hide there and I'll handle the girl—if you want."
Peter wonders why people always ask him that. What do you want? What are you supposed to say if you don't know what you want? What's the purpose of the question?
He blinks and swallows the lump in his throat. "Yeah," He manages, even though his tongue felt swollen. "Yeah. Okay."
Ricky nods and moves to help Caitlin with orders.
Peter goes back to staring. But the girl in the sundress is already gone. And the hole in his chest opened up again.
"We know where he is. He doesn't know where we are. I say we just go in and rope him up. Standard procedure."
"You're annoying me, Jared."
The girl in the sundress is nursing a cup of hot cocoa as Jared attempts some card trick with her. They're half way through the stack and he still hasn't pulled out the card she chose yet.
"Why not?" Queen of hearts. Three of diamonds. Nine of spades.
"Just because." She stands as the last of the customers trickled out of the Wandering Rocks. Jules rises along with her, silent as always. He pops open the tangerine-colored umbrella.
"Tilly..." Ten of diamonds. Ace of clubs. Bingo. Jared's anticipation is apparent.
Peter. Oh, Peter. Tilly crosses the street swiftly, stepping closer to Jules for warmth. She grinds her teeth together in aggravation. Little Peter, whom she thought, was so harmless and obedient. How can he just escape like this? It's just a shame really, because now she'll have to hunt him down. And she hate having to get ugly. She sighs, batting away a few vision-disturbing fringes. It's no problem though. She'll bring him home.
"Stay out here, Jared. Keep a lookout." She commands, shaking the rain from her too-long bangs, her hair is getting wild. Jared gives a nonchalant shrug before settling on the stone steps.
Tilly slips into the dimly lit bar gracefully. She's dully aware of Jules's burning heat radiating from behind her, his blonde shag completely dry despite the horrid storm.
"Sorry. We're closed for the night." He's a broad man with a gravelly voice. He gives Tilly a look that tells her he's more than aware of why she's here.
But that doesn't stop her from breaking out the charisma. Red lips curling, dimples sinking. "I'm looking for a boy, you see...and rumor has it, he's been hanging around here."
The man chuckles humorlessly, he shakes his head. "People come and go. I'm just a bartender. No good with faces." Tilly feels as if he's trying to hurl this comment at her face.
Her lips twitch but she purses her lips together to keep from smiling. Jules walks forward to press the photo into her hands, and she extends it to the bartender. "Have you seen him around?" The man takes it then examines it for a few moments with mock-interest. "His name is Peter Petrelli."
The man only gives her a shrug, "Don't remember. Sorry."
"No?" She questions then grins impishly, "It's crucial that I find him. You see, Peter's very important to me." She raises a brow, and for the first time, Ricky realizes that her eyes are very dark and very deep. "He tends to get himself into…trouble. And I just want make sure that doesn't happen."
He's adamant, "I'm really sorry but...I don't know this Peter."
"Oh." Tilly bites the inside of her cheek. She was annoyed. She had seen him in here earlier. Perhaps it was a mistake to wait. Perhaps Jared was right; she should've made her move then. "Well," She plucks the picture from the bartender, his smug smile strumming with her nerves. She flashes him her best pitiful, sad grin. "If you can just keep a lookout..."
Her eyes flashed to the backroom where the door is slightly ajar. She raises a brow and Jules steps forward, offering Ricky his hand. "Thank you for your help." His voice is friendly enough so Ricky cautiously accepts the shake.
He's never felt anything quite like it. As if somebody's setting his skin on fire. Or...jamming his fingers into molten lava. He hollers in pain, valiantly trying to wrench his arm out of the other man's grasp, but Jules only holds on tighter, flashing a white beam from under his golden bangs.
His hand is charred black from where the blonde grasped him, the bones now limp and melted. Ricky gasps in pain, shuddering and burned, he clutches his injured limb protectively to his chest.
Tilly graces him with another patient smile, looking no different than when she first walked into the pub, like she didn't see anything unusual at all. She tilts her head: not so brave now, are you? She seems to ask with her dimples and coal-black irises.
"Care to try to remember again?" Her clean soprano rings in the empty pub. She tugs on the ends of her dark hair as the man tried to curl in against himself, alarmed eyes darting everywhere at once, finally settling on the young girl's necklace. The same one Peter wore around his neck. But he doesn't tell her that. He doesn't tell her anything.
He swallows then shook his head rapidly. It wasn't that Ricky isn't willing to give Peter up. But he couldn't put Caitlin in danger. Definitely not with these people. Whoever the hell they were. Magicians or...Vulcans.
"Oh, what a shame." Her lips twist into a harsh scowl, marring her delicate face. "You really are a hard nut to crack, aren't you, Ricky?" He wasn't sure how she found out his name. He's not sure he wants to know either. Ricky didn't think it was possible for her to look menacing but with the darkness in her eyes and the angles of her jaw, he's starting to reconsider. "But that's okay," Her tone turns cheerful, "My partner here is very good at getting secrets out of people." And she winks.
Jules flexes his fingers.
"I really don't know what you're talking about." He attempts one last time to get them off his ass. But she only brushes past him, heading straight for the backroom. "Wait, where are you going?!" He makes a grab for her but winces as his aching hand throbbed.
Tilly bursts into the room, her insides twisting with anxiety. Oh, she's got him now. Little Peter with his floppy hair. She's got him. And he's coming back with her.
The room's empty. The bed's neatly made. The drawers are hanging half-open; emptied. Rain invading the vicinity thanks to the open window. But even the rain can't wash away her bitter disappointment. Or the overwhelming sense of betrayal.
She's never failed a mission. That's why Bob sent her. Because she was his favorite...his best girl.
And Tilly storms out, a pretty, twinkling snarl tearing out of her lips. She glides back out to the pub and angrily pushes a hand through her moppet hair. "He's gone." She snaps in outrage, her cheeks flushing indignantly. "He's gone!" Her dark gaze flashes to Jules and she hisses, pointing at the weak man lying on the floor. Her babyish voice didn't suit anger well, "Get it out of him. I don't care if you have to melt his skull in order to get it. I want answers, Jules."
So little Peter Pan wants to play games. He wants to play hide-and-seek? Cat-and-mouse? She can do that. She'll find him. Wherever he's at, she'll find him.
Little Tilly can play games too.
End Note:
Basically I've only recently discovered the wonders that is Heroes over my winter break while scrolling through my Netflix list with my friend and it's just one of those little pet projects I suddenly have an urge for. I'm sure my fellow writers have gotten that jolt when you're lying in your bed and you just can't sleep because these characters are manifesting inside your head.
Or maybe I'm just insane.
However, I thank you for reading this story and giving it a chance and of course, feedback is always much appreciated. And I hope you enjoy where this is heading so far and...I'm most definitely hoping you enjoy Tilly. She's a very interesting character (at least in my sleep-deprived mind).