Emily (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
iluvroadrunner6) wrote2007-08-21 06:38 pm
iluvroadrunner6) wrote2007-08-21 06:38 pm
Peter/Inara - Any Little Dream Will Do
Fandom: Heroes/Firefly
Title: Any Little Dream Will Do
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
iluvroadrunner6
Rating: FRT/PG-13
Characters: Peter Petrelli/Inara Serra, Angela and Nathan Petrelli
Content Warning: Spoilers for through the end of season 1 (Heroes), and total Crack.
Summary: It was a few moments before he could see her, his savior of sorts. A dark goddess who dressed like a queen and seemed to make the space warmer just by standing there.
Author's Note: Written forgoddess_loki in response to the First Kisses meme. This is a bit cracktastic,but I'm kinda in love with it. So there.
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Heroes or Firefly. They're owned by Fox and NBC. However, any and all original characters are mine, so please do not use them without my permission.
Recovering from being a human bomb, by definition, is never easy, no matter what kind of healing factor you may have. It’s a long process that takes weeks, even months, to do properly, and the danger in exploding over a large area, is that there’s always a chance that something could go wrong. No one ever said Claire’s powers were perfect, and Peter was only getting them second hand. They still worked, though—still helped him survive. He didn’t die, but he did sleep for a very long time while the pieces of him his body pulled themselves back together. Limbs reattached and muscles reformed while his subconscious traveled far away from where his body was, to a place he wasn’t sure existed.
At first there was black. The black was so thick he felt like he couldn’t breathe. He felt like he was suffocating in the immensity of it all. He wasn’t moving, but it wasn’t for lack of trying. There seemed to be forces pulling on him in all directions, as if they were trying to pull him apart, yet he was being held together at the same time. Then came the pinpricks of light from far away, almost like stars but Peter knew that that wasn’t possible. There couldn’t be stars in a place like this. Too much black. Too much despair.
He could feel the despair radiating from somewhere, he wasn’t sure where. Could be from himself because he could feel himself dying, feel himself drowning in the weightlessness that surrounded him.
His vision started swimming, and there were swirls of black and white and grey. He felt himself getting dizzy and closed his eyes trying to get his thoughts to stop spinning and make common sense. Then there was nothing again. No feelings, no thoughts, no ideas—just nothing.
When he opened his eyes again, his vision was blurs of red and gold. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the details of the room. He could feel silk under his fingers and smell the incense lingering in the air. There were drapes in red and gold across the room, and as he started to sit himself up more, there was a soft hand on his chest and a soothing voice that didn’t say anything but radiated calm and composure.
He couldn’t see her. He wasn’t sure what clue gave it away that the hand and voice were a woman, but he was pretty convinced that it was. He could feel her, a presence he couldn’t explain, but reminded him somewhat of Simone—class and composure, yet there was more self assurance than Simone. More confidence. It pulled him into her, made him want to know more. It could have been the incense making his head spin, but her allure was unmistakable and undeniable.
It was a few moments more before he could see her, his savior of sorts. A dark goddess who dressed like a queen and seemed to make the space warmer just by standing there. She gave him a smile and asked him, without really asking, what his name was.
Peter Petrelli.
The words were more thoughts than actual words, which normally would have bugged him, but here—seemed to make sense.
Petrelli. Interesting name.
He never asked her name. It always seemed to be a given, from the moment she pulled him from the black—another thing he should have questioned, but didn’t. Even she called it the black, it wasn’t just him, though it never helped make sense of what it was. They seemed to talk for days about everything and nothing, about things that had no substance yet for some reason meant more than they should.
Then one day his vision came to him, her face taught with worry and concern. When he asked her what was wrong, she only looked sad.
You’re leaving me, Peter.
Why?
She only shrugged, Your time is up.
Give me more time, he said, sitting up more, wanting to stay here with her.
I’ve already given you more than I should. I have other clients waiting.
Clients? The word seemed wrong, seemed like it didn’t fit. He continued to look at her, confused, and watched as she moved forward, sitting down opposite him. One hand rested on his chest and she kissed him gently. He had a feeling, or at least hoped, that she didn’t kiss many people like this, and that made a small flame of pride swell in his chest. Then suddenly, the reds and golds were fading into the black again, not the kind where he couldn’t breathe, just the kind where he was at peace.
He realized he could still feel the hand on his chest, but the touch was different from hers. The hand was heavier, more solid. Not her.
“Peter?”
Peter frowned at the actual sound, but it didn’t take him long to recognize the voice, low and masculine. Nathan.
“Pete? You in there?”
He started to blink his eyes open, cringing at the bright whiteness that loomed above him. He was able to make out two dark shapes as well. The one to his left reached out and ran a hand lover his face lightly. The voice that came with it was softer, more feminine, and he knew it instantly.
“Peter, what did you see?”
Mom. He opened his mouth slowly, his jaw stiff from lack of use and when he finally spoke, his voice was so hoarse he could only croak out one word.
“Inara.”
Title: Any Little Dream Will Do
Author:
iluvroadrunner6Rating: FRT/PG-13
Characters: Peter Petrelli/Inara Serra, Angela and Nathan Petrelli
Content Warning: Spoilers for through the end of season 1 (Heroes), and total Crack.
Summary: It was a few moments before he could see her, his savior of sorts. A dark goddess who dressed like a queen and seemed to make the space warmer just by standing there.
Author's Note: Written for
goddess_loki in response to the First Kisses meme. This is a bit cracktastic,but I'm kinda in love with it. So there. Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Heroes or Firefly. They're owned by Fox and NBC. However, any and all original characters are mine, so please do not use them without my permission.
Recovering from being a human bomb, by definition, is never easy, no matter what kind of healing factor you may have. It’s a long process that takes weeks, even months, to do properly, and the danger in exploding over a large area, is that there’s always a chance that something could go wrong. No one ever said Claire’s powers were perfect, and Peter was only getting them second hand. They still worked, though—still helped him survive. He didn’t die, but he did sleep for a very long time while the pieces of him his body pulled themselves back together. Limbs reattached and muscles reformed while his subconscious traveled far away from where his body was, to a place he wasn’t sure existed.
At first there was black. The black was so thick he felt like he couldn’t breathe. He felt like he was suffocating in the immensity of it all. He wasn’t moving, but it wasn’t for lack of trying. There seemed to be forces pulling on him in all directions, as if they were trying to pull him apart, yet he was being held together at the same time. Then came the pinpricks of light from far away, almost like stars but Peter knew that that wasn’t possible. There couldn’t be stars in a place like this. Too much black. Too much despair.
He could feel the despair radiating from somewhere, he wasn’t sure where. Could be from himself because he could feel himself dying, feel himself drowning in the weightlessness that surrounded him.
His vision started swimming, and there were swirls of black and white and grey. He felt himself getting dizzy and closed his eyes trying to get his thoughts to stop spinning and make common sense. Then there was nothing again. No feelings, no thoughts, no ideas—just nothing.
When he opened his eyes again, his vision was blurs of red and gold. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the details of the room. He could feel silk under his fingers and smell the incense lingering in the air. There were drapes in red and gold across the room, and as he started to sit himself up more, there was a soft hand on his chest and a soothing voice that didn’t say anything but radiated calm and composure.
He couldn’t see her. He wasn’t sure what clue gave it away that the hand and voice were a woman, but he was pretty convinced that it was. He could feel her, a presence he couldn’t explain, but reminded him somewhat of Simone—class and composure, yet there was more self assurance than Simone. More confidence. It pulled him into her, made him want to know more. It could have been the incense making his head spin, but her allure was unmistakable and undeniable.
It was a few moments more before he could see her, his savior of sorts. A dark goddess who dressed like a queen and seemed to make the space warmer just by standing there. She gave him a smile and asked him, without really asking, what his name was.
Peter Petrelli.
The words were more thoughts than actual words, which normally would have bugged him, but here—seemed to make sense.
Petrelli. Interesting name.
He never asked her name. It always seemed to be a given, from the moment she pulled him from the black—another thing he should have questioned, but didn’t. Even she called it the black, it wasn’t just him, though it never helped make sense of what it was. They seemed to talk for days about everything and nothing, about things that had no substance yet for some reason meant more than they should.
Then one day his vision came to him, her face taught with worry and concern. When he asked her what was wrong, she only looked sad.
You’re leaving me, Peter.
Why?
She only shrugged, Your time is up.
Give me more time, he said, sitting up more, wanting to stay here with her.
I’ve already given you more than I should. I have other clients waiting.
Clients? The word seemed wrong, seemed like it didn’t fit. He continued to look at her, confused, and watched as she moved forward, sitting down opposite him. One hand rested on his chest and she kissed him gently. He had a feeling, or at least hoped, that she didn’t kiss many people like this, and that made a small flame of pride swell in his chest. Then suddenly, the reds and golds were fading into the black again, not the kind where he couldn’t breathe, just the kind where he was at peace.
He realized he could still feel the hand on his chest, but the touch was different from hers. The hand was heavier, more solid. Not her.
“Peter?”
Peter frowned at the actual sound, but it didn’t take him long to recognize the voice, low and masculine. Nathan.
“Pete? You in there?”
He started to blink his eyes open, cringing at the bright whiteness that loomed above him. He was able to make out two dark shapes as well. The one to his left reached out and ran a hand lover his face lightly. The voice that came with it was softer, more feminine, and he knew it instantly.
“Peter, what did you see?”
Mom. He opened his mouth slowly, his jaw stiff from lack of use and when he finally spoke, his voice was so hoarse he could only croak out one word.
“Inara.”