Disclaimer: Again, I don't own the show!
Just a reminder that this is my opinion on what would happen after the season finale of season one. This is simply what I wanted and/or thought would happen not NBC; this is just my fanfic.
Sorry, guys, this chapter isn't as long, but the next will come soon if I get enough reviews. If not, you may loose this story.
Also it has come to my attention that my stable hand Clark bears a resemblance to a certain Clark Kent. I just wanted to clarify that this was unintentional and I do not own Clark Kent. Just Clark Masterson (this Clark)
Forewarning: This story does include Paire, but this is an AU and don't review just to say it is messed up.
Now for thanks:
Little-Delia- Thanks! And as you can see, I am.
East Coast Ryder- I am glad you think so, and here you go.
Stella- I am always happy to hear that people like my stories and I hope you keep reviewing.
Winter19- Here is my answer to the ultimate Peter question. I am happy to hear that you like Mrs. Mayberry. She was written to be loveable. And I certainly think Peter is and angel and a cutie. Keep reading!
Now for the next chapter!
Peter awoke with a start. As he glanced around his surroundings, all he could tell at that moment was that it was more unfamiliar than uninviting to his unaccustomed eyes.
The first thing he did notice however was that his shirt had been changed and his pants were ripped and burned. As he looked down at his shirt, he noticed his arms.
They had been bandaged in several places, and underneath the shirt, there was a wrap around his waist. Now he felt a small bandage on his temple. Thinking quickly he removed a bandage on his arm and discovered a wound rapidly healing under his gaze. Seeing this result, he began to remove all of the bandages he could find, all to the similar effect. As he removed the final bandage on his forehead, his fingertips beheld a strange phenomenon. Across his face diagonally there was a scar. Peter ran his fingers along the length of it. He began to concentrate most heavily on it, willing it to heal. The gash did not yield the focus and stayed steadily upon his face, unwilling to disappear. After trying his best to remove it, Peter finally admitted to defeat and let his concentration run free once more.
It was then it settled upon his surroundings. Based upon what he could see, Peter concluded he was in an old woman's living room. Upon shelves, small ornamental objects sat with a small layer of dust and an antique look about them. On the walls were many framed photos. Some of families and children, but one central photo caught his eye. It was the largest of the rest and could be viewed at once upon entering the room from the front door. Its occupant was a man. The picture itself was quite old, but the man was not. He looked to be in his twenties and was laughing. The smile warmed the whole picture. The man seemed to Peter to be one of a loved man, like one of his grandfather when he was younger, or maybe his father, had he been kind. Peter smiled as he stared at it. Below the picture on the matting in the frame was a small gold plaque. It read:
In Memory of
John Herbert Mayberry
1939- 2005
Peter guessed that this was a loving patriarch of a family who passed away. And though Peter didn't know him, he was sad that the old man was dead. He looked upon the laughing man once more before he took in the rest of the room.
On a love seat adjacent to the couch were two women. They were both dozing on the arms of the love seat with a blanket that had fallen to about their knees, spread on the pair. The first was an old woman, who must be the owner of this house. She was quite old and Peter deduced that she must be at least 60 years old. She had a kind face and graying hair.
The second was a bit of an opposite. She was very young. She seemed to be either in her late teens or early twenties. She had long black hair that flowed down to her hips. She was quite beautiful; Peter couldn't help but think as he looked upon the two.
He leaned over them and pulled the blanket back to their shoulders and then stepped back. Thinking of the bandages he figured these women had spent quite some time taking care of him. Peter next strode across the room to the front door and stepped outside. The door creaked slightly as he applied pressure to it and opened it.
Peter inhaled deeply as he stepped out into the crisp Northern air into a foreign terrain. Peter had been raised in New York City and had been out of it very rarely. Whenever he did it had normally just been to more cities. The one exception was his venture to Odessa, but even then he took a plane then fell asleep on the bus, so he didn't see much like this. So he had never actually seen a real farm. And what a spread this was. Its fields went on for a while. Peter stepped to the edge of the porch and leaned on the railing, staring out at the horses galloping through the field in the distance.
Just then he heard the creak of the door behind him opening and turned quickly to see the young woman standing with the door open. She had a surprised look on her face as she looked at him. She then turned quickly to face the living room and yelled through the threshold to the house beyond it, "I found him, Mrs. Mayberry!"
Suddenly the old woman came bustling through the open door. She stopped just outside the door, muttered, "Thank god." before quickly continuing on her way to hug him.
Looking surprised by this encounter Peter stood there staring at the younger woman with a quizzical expression. She replied with one that said Go ahead and let her.
The old woman began sobbing into Peter's new shirt, "I didn't know where you went! I worried you were an angel and were taken back!"
Peter barely understood what she was saying and just patted her on the back till she let go.
She then realized what happened, "I am so sorry dear. Old age has taken a toll on me and I've been overreacting! I'm just so glad you're all right."
Still surprised by this encounter Peter responded, "It's all right. I'm fine."
The girl stepped forward and proclaimed, "Of course you are! I'm Ellen Sampson by the way, and this old dear is Dolores Mayberry."
"I'm Peter Petrelli." He responded.
"Well Peter, we better get inside." Mrs. Mayberry said, motioning him to the door.
He followed her as Ellen entered last closing the door.
As Peter sat down in an armchair near the door, he stated, "Listen, I'm still a little fuzzy about what's going on. Where am I? What day is it? How did I get here?"
They both resumed their spots on the loveseat and Mrs. Mayberry answered, "We are on my farm in northeast Wisconsin. Today is November 10th. I found you out in the old wheat field yesterday morning after seeing you fall from the sky from the kitchen window. I found you in an awful state. You had wounds all over your upper body. I had one of my other stable hands bring you in. Then Ellen and I took care of you. When we woke up a few minutes ago, we were surprised to find you gone, and your bandages left behind."
Ellen nodded, "Mrs. Mayberry was quite worried about you. She thought you were a fallen angel and were taken away from us. But if you aren't, why did you take off your bandages?"
Peter extended a bandage free arm and revealed a healed surface, "I heal faster than other people. I woke up and didn't need them anymore."
The women were amazed by this new discovery about their new houseguest and leaned forward to investigate further.
Alternating her gaze between the angel's arm and face, Mrs. Mayberry asked in wonder, "Are you sure you aren't part angel? Cause that is quite incredible."
Peter shook his head, "No, I am sad to say I am not."
Ellen then asked, "Well if that theory is out the window; how did you get here like that?"
Peter sighed, "I'm still a little fuzzy about it right now. I'll tell you when I got all the pieces together but for now, you wouldn't believe what I have so far."
Abandoning the subject for the moment, Mrs. Mayberry stood up, "Well since you're up, I hope you'll join us for lunch."
Stunned by the sudden change of subject, Peter answered quickly, "Oh, yeah sure."
Mrs. Mayberry smiled and turned to Ellen, "Would you mind getting Clark, dear, I want Peter to help me set the table."
Ellen nodded as she headed out the door. Peter meanwhile, followed the bustling Mrs. Mayberry into the kitchen. By the size of it, Peter deduced it got a lot of use. Mrs. Mayberry busied herself with something on the stove and flashed a smile at Peter, "I hope you like grilled cheese."
He smiled, and wistfully thought of all the times his own family never had lunch together and nodded to her. She then gave him directions for setting the table. He entered the large dining off of the kitchen and began the simple task he hadn't done himself since he was 12.
Very shortly after that, he the women and Clark were seated around it eating grilled cheese sandwiches and carrot sticks and laughing and discussing topics that could involve Peter.
And Peter for once felt, in this break from the crazy turn his life had taken prior to these last few days, a sense of peace and family, sitting here at this table in Wisconsin.
Here it is! The second chapter!
For those of you who think I've let Peter go soft, you are mistaken! I am just giving him a break from what's happened and what's got to happen.
He is still very much powerful.
If you liked it and are anxiously awaiting the next chapter, you got to review!
Reviewing let's me know you like it and want more!
Now go and do so!