2010-02-25 08:38![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thewatchmaker
thewatchmakerCharacter: "Nathan", Sylar, Angela, the President
Fandom: Heroes
Word count: 966
Rating: G - no swearing, no death, no violence
Notes: Missing scene - The President has asked "Nathan" to tell him about Sylar. Before the lunch with Angela for the start of Season 4.
Prompt: Who do you think you are... a Kennedy? You're a Bush. Act like one.![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
scifi_muses
Angela Petrelli waited for her son in the outer office, watching while Nathan fixed the clock with a frown spreading over her already sour face.
“Will you need a driver, Mrs. Petrelli?” Nathan’s assistant asked her. “Senator Petrelli’s meeting with the President is scheduled for an hour and a half.”
“Meeting with the President?” Angela turned on her heels and stepped back into Nathan’s office, pursing her lips. Her hand trembling slightly as she tucked a lock of her hair back in place. She glared into his eyes, pleading, ordering him with her iron will to do what she wanted. “Nathan you can’t do this. I forbid it! We can’t dare the exposure. What will happen to your career?”
“Ma.” Nathan rubbed at his face. “I’m tired. I’ve got a headache. I’ve had a constant headache, for a month and a half, ever since we saved the President. He wants to know what happened. It’s my responsibility to tell him. I’m the one that drew him into your twisted world. I’m the one who put him in danger.”
“He’s the President, Nathan. He’s always in danger. Please.” Her fingers picked at his sleeve, clutching at his arms, while she tried to change his mind. “I’ll have Noah do it.”
“Noah isn’t the person who told him about us, Ma. That was me.” Nathan locked eyes with his mother again. His gaze was sharp, and in the end she was the one who looked away first. That was a surprise to him, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d won a staring contest with her, but then there were a lot of things he was having trouble remembering clearly. “I’ll meet you later for lunch, ma. Let me do this. Because once in a blue moon, a Petrelli can do the right thing whose name isn’t Peter.”
***
The Oval Office was smaller than he expected. He’d spent the drive over trying to perfect his contrite look. Nathan wasn’t good at looking apologetic. So many good men had died because of the shit storm he’d created, a lot of not-so-good men too.
He went to stand next to the president’s desk, adjusting his tie in his reflection in the window. He’d gotten there early, even after dealing with his mother, and the President wasn’t there yet. Nathan rubbed his thumb over his watch. He knew to the second how early he had been and now how late the most powerful man in the world was. Angela would not be pleased to be kept waiting.
“You’re early, Nathan,” the President said, when he came through the door. He was a big man, and Nathan had a flash of a memory as the man’s massive hand gripped his of them sitting in a limo, their knees almost touching. Then the man’s dark skin faded away to his brother’s face, and there was a flash of pain then nothing more.
“Traffic was good for a change,” he said, blinking to clear the troubling vision. “I managed to hit a few green lights.”
“Good, have a seat. We have a lot to talk about. I want to know about him.” The President settled into his chair and leaned forward.
This was no friendly meeting, not that Nathan expected that they were not friends. Nathan wasn’t surprised. He didn’t have a lot of friends. He didn’t have time for them nor the need, and that revelation made him sad.
Nathan unbuttoned his jacket before sitting, balancing the files he’d brought the President on his lap. “Him, Mr. President?”
“Sylar, Senator Petrelli. I want you to tell me about the man who wanted to take my place.”
Sylar Nathan hated the sound of the name. His fingers curled into the edges of the files, bending one of the corners. He was a practiced liar, like all politicians, but he couldn’t hide the gnawing wash of dread in his gut.
“Sylar wasn’t his real name,” Nathan forced out. He wished he had a drink. Not that a drink would help him. He’d been drinking himself to sleep since the headaches started, and that never helped long. No matter how many glasses of scotch he drank down. “His real name was Gabriel Gray. He was a watchmaker from Queens.”
“I know about that, Nathan.” The President glowered at him. “I want to know about the power. Tell me about what he could do, and why he could get so close to me. Then I want you to tell me how you and your brother stopped him.”
Nathan couldn’t sit still. He got up feigning a calm he didn’t feel, leaving the files on the edge of the desk. He paced across the room, once again drawn by his reflection in the window. For a moment his eyes looked so dark they were almost black before fading to their normal color.
“Sylar was a monster, a serial killer, a hunter. He preyed on specials, taking their abilities and making them his. They captured him once, held him for weeks to study him.” Nathan rubbed at the back of his head, feeling for something, but there were no scars, no shunts, nor wires. “The Company scientists couldn’t figure out how he did it. There was no one else like him. They would find his victims with their skulls cut open. He’d take the brains of his victims in the beginning then he learned to find the seat of their power on the spot.”
He took a deep breath, when he discovered that he’d been holding his. He looked at his hands, expecting to see them covered in blood, but they were clean. His Annapolis ring catching the morning sun coming through the window and shining bright reminding him that he was Nathan Petrelli, he wasn’t a monster.
Fandom: Heroes
Word count: 966
Rating: G - no swearing, no death, no violence
Notes: Missing scene - The President has asked "Nathan" to tell him about Sylar. Before the lunch with Angela for the start of Season 4.
Prompt: Who do you think you are... a Kennedy? You're a Bush. Act like one.
scifi_musesAngela Petrelli waited for her son in the outer office, watching while Nathan fixed the clock with a frown spreading over her already sour face.
“Will you need a driver, Mrs. Petrelli?” Nathan’s assistant asked her. “Senator Petrelli’s meeting with the President is scheduled for an hour and a half.”
“Meeting with the President?” Angela turned on her heels and stepped back into Nathan’s office, pursing her lips. Her hand trembling slightly as she tucked a lock of her hair back in place. She glared into his eyes, pleading, ordering him with her iron will to do what she wanted. “Nathan you can’t do this. I forbid it! We can’t dare the exposure. What will happen to your career?”
“Ma.” Nathan rubbed at his face. “I’m tired. I’ve got a headache. I’ve had a constant headache, for a month and a half, ever since we saved the President. He wants to know what happened. It’s my responsibility to tell him. I’m the one that drew him into your twisted world. I’m the one who put him in danger.”
“He’s the President, Nathan. He’s always in danger. Please.” Her fingers picked at his sleeve, clutching at his arms, while she tried to change his mind. “I’ll have Noah do it.”
“Noah isn’t the person who told him about us, Ma. That was me.” Nathan locked eyes with his mother again. His gaze was sharp, and in the end she was the one who looked away first. That was a surprise to him, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d won a staring contest with her, but then there were a lot of things he was having trouble remembering clearly. “I’ll meet you later for lunch, ma. Let me do this. Because once in a blue moon, a Petrelli can do the right thing whose name isn’t Peter.”
***
The Oval Office was smaller than he expected. He’d spent the drive over trying to perfect his contrite look. Nathan wasn’t good at looking apologetic. So many good men had died because of the shit storm he’d created, a lot of not-so-good men too.
He went to stand next to the president’s desk, adjusting his tie in his reflection in the window. He’d gotten there early, even after dealing with his mother, and the President wasn’t there yet. Nathan rubbed his thumb over his watch. He knew to the second how early he had been and now how late the most powerful man in the world was. Angela would not be pleased to be kept waiting.
“You’re early, Nathan,” the President said, when he came through the door. He was a big man, and Nathan had a flash of a memory as the man’s massive hand gripped his of them sitting in a limo, their knees almost touching. Then the man’s dark skin faded away to his brother’s face, and there was a flash of pain then nothing more.
“Traffic was good for a change,” he said, blinking to clear the troubling vision. “I managed to hit a few green lights.”
“Good, have a seat. We have a lot to talk about. I want to know about him.” The President settled into his chair and leaned forward.
This was no friendly meeting, not that Nathan expected that they were not friends. Nathan wasn’t surprised. He didn’t have a lot of friends. He didn’t have time for them nor the need, and that revelation made him sad.
Nathan unbuttoned his jacket before sitting, balancing the files he’d brought the President on his lap. “Him, Mr. President?”
“Sylar, Senator Petrelli. I want you to tell me about the man who wanted to take my place.”
Sylar Nathan hated the sound of the name. His fingers curled into the edges of the files, bending one of the corners. He was a practiced liar, like all politicians, but he couldn’t hide the gnawing wash of dread in his gut.
“Sylar wasn’t his real name,” Nathan forced out. He wished he had a drink. Not that a drink would help him. He’d been drinking himself to sleep since the headaches started, and that never helped long. No matter how many glasses of scotch he drank down. “His real name was Gabriel Gray. He was a watchmaker from Queens.”
“I know about that, Nathan.” The President glowered at him. “I want to know about the power. Tell me about what he could do, and why he could get so close to me. Then I want you to tell me how you and your brother stopped him.”
Nathan couldn’t sit still. He got up feigning a calm he didn’t feel, leaving the files on the edge of the desk. He paced across the room, once again drawn by his reflection in the window. For a moment his eyes looked so dark they were almost black before fading to their normal color.
“Sylar was a monster, a serial killer, a hunter. He preyed on specials, taking their abilities and making them his. They captured him once, held him for weeks to study him.” Nathan rubbed at the back of his head, feeling for something, but there were no scars, no shunts, nor wires. “The Company scientists couldn’t figure out how he did it. There was no one else like him. They would find his victims with their skulls cut open. He’d take the brains of his victims in the beginning then he learned to find the seat of their power on the spot.”
He took a deep breath, when he discovered that he’d been holding his. He looked at his hands, expecting to see them covered in blood, but they were clean. His Annapolis ring catching the morning sun coming through the window and shining bright reminding him that he was Nathan Petrelli, he wasn’t a monster.
