A.N: This was written for ff .com's fanfiction board, on the challenge thread. The genre was angst, it could be from any fandom and it had to be 500 words. I decided I wanted to explore Angela's character a little bit, and this is what came out. Written with Hallelujah by Jeff Buckley in the background.
Disclaimer/Spoilers: I don't own Heroes, sadly. Spoilers up to Season 2 just to be safe.
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Angela Petrelli had never been one for prayer.
It was her husband who was the God-fearing one of the family. He'd prayed religiously, night after night and, with an ability like his, who wouldn't? Religion gave him hope, gave him a way to understand why God had given them these 'talents', why He'd given them this decision to make.
Good or evil. Right or wrong. Was there ever a clear distinction?
Arthur had thought there was. He had been influenced by Adam and Daniel into thinking they were doing the right thing, doing it in the name of God, justice and righteousness.
They were saving the world.
Angela had always known better. She'd seen the same idealistic streak in her husband as she sees now in Peter – a similarity she'd never thought she'd draw between the two.
They both wanted a better world, wanted to make it right.
That want had lead to Arthur's death, just as Charles had seen it, and now it would lead to Peter's, too.
When Charles had told them what would become of their two sons all those years ago, Arthur had immediately shouted it down, said that the future wasn't written in stone, made phone-calls, did deals, made sure Claire was sent far away from the city and that Nathan enrolled in the Navy.
Angela had sat there, listening, watching her son as he poured over comic-book heroes he'd always dreamt of becoming.
That night, she'd tucked her youngest into bed and kissed his forehead, smoothing back his hair and telling him, as he was on the edge of sleep, that he would change the world.
She'd always believed her sons would make a difference to the world, but now, as she listened to Daniel's final plans for the election, something moved within her and she was struck cold.
She was asking one of her boys to let the other die – sacrifice one for the other, and she'd never questioned it, had never questioned the plans at all.
Until now.
As she entered the chapel, Angela could feel the presence of her dead comrades; Charles, Paula, Harry, Susan, Carlos, and most of all, Arthur, watching her.
And in her eyes they were condemning her, damning her because of what she'd become.
"Don't you understand, Angie? Adam's trying to make it all better, trying to stop the world from hurting. It's in pain. We can make it right."
"You sound like Daniel. We're not Gods, Arthur."
"I'm not comparing myself to Him, but He gave us these powers for a reason, Angie, to help Him right the wrongs of the world."
"And how can you be so sure He did?"
"Because He told me. He listens to you. Talk to him sometime. Just try, love, He's always ready to listen."
So Angela closed her eyes and knelt at the foot of the pew, clasping her hands together and reciting what she had been taught years ago by her mother:
"Our Father, who art in Heaven…"