Characters: Peter/Claire (canon)
Summary: Peter's thoughts on his friendship with Claire, set a couple of years in the future.
Spoilers: General spoilers up to Season 2
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine, just borrowing. All NBC's and Tim Kring's. Please don't sue!
LJ Disclaimer: Situations depicted in this story are entirely fictional and should not be taken to promote any illegal or morally ambiguous activities.
Author's Notes: Intended to be a stand alone but while I was writing it, a fully fledged story popped into mind. Assuming I'll have time to write it after finishing Salvation and two other WIPs I have on the go, I'd like to continue. I'm in a whimsical frame of mind so hence this piece.
Feedback is love!
She's my niece and yet when I see her, she sets fire to my insides.
She's always there, tormenting me with a thousand looks of wonder, looks that shatter me when I see emerald eyes peering through golden tendrils. Tendrils that fall like golden rain from heaven, locks that frame round green eyes always so full of trust and innocence. Her youth, mirth, vitality and trust all conspire to lure me away from the path of the decent, well meaning hospice nurse I'd once been.
I still take occasional shifts to supplement my expenses, but my entire world, for now and always, will be filled by her.
She's only 20 but already it feels like we've known each other for more than half our lives. We've circled each other in co-existing orbits; she's the sun to my Earth, twin bodies doomed to forever travel through this inhospitable universe. It's a terrain filled with scattered memories, and
But always and for the ages to come, we'll travel as one. We'll do so with full knowledge we're destined to never be together; neither one dare approaching nearer than what our relationship dictates. She's too young to know this yet, but she'll come to see the truth in time.
Time is eternal and now I know, so may we be. To a degree. More eternal than those around us at the very least and I occasionally to wonder, does this make us more, or less than human? Claire and I, and even Adam, or Kensei, or whoever he chooses to be called, are we so very different?
Are there others like us, doomed to forever walk the earth? Will Claire and I be the only ones left after everything's said and done? My insides curl and wither thinking of a life without Nathan, but I know. I know he's human, and mortal. One day, he will wither and die, and I'll have to be content to visit his grave and whisper broken nothings in the dead of night to fight my loneliness away.
Is this what happened to Adam, to drive him into such insanity? Perhaps he didn't have his Claire and it broke him. Broke his soul and mind, and without someone there to put the pieces back again, he remained broken and condemned to walk the Earth, a harbinger of death and destruction wherever he goes.
It's not healthy the way I feel about her, and sometimes I'm not sure she really knows the full extent of those feelings. I'm her uncle and she's my niece and we're bound by our biology as steadfastedly as if bound by chains. The social strictures within which we all exist binds us too; it doesn't do anyone good to wail and pound against the golden cages that binds us so tight it hurts to breathe.
It hurts me to be so close to her. So near and yet so far. I know the others have noticed it too, noticed how my eyes travel down her body, how I become intoxicated by her when she drifts close. We're always together in spirit and but not in body; surely human beings weren't meant to live under such torment? There's a limit to these things and one day, I will reach mine.
Sometimes, I allow myself the luxury of knowing she feels it too. Each day that goes by is another day that rushes onto the eventuality of desolation and loneliness. She wants this as much as I do, wants us to just be and exist and not be constrained by our biological relationship.
Is this what I'll be reduced to? Slave to my own indecent cravings, powerless against the ever increasing need to be there, with her?
Wherever she is, I will be. Wherever I am, she'll follow. This is the rule that we both abide by, this is the doom that will accompany us for the rest of our lives.
The others leave, giving me pointed glances. I want to laugh at them, thinking how entirely unnecessary their warnings are. I've already put up every obstacle I can think of in our path but I know I'm powerless to stop the inevitable hurtling towards me with the force of a bullet. Claire feels it too; feels it in her bones like her entire being's reacting to the hint of the possibility. She hears it whispering sweet nothings into her ear at night when she rocks herself trying to sleep. Tries to dream the temptation away; I can't bear to tell her I slither into those dreams sometimes, see her thoughts and feelings flush with illicit desire.
She knows; knows the temptation's there, oh it's always there, just lurking and writhing underneath our skin, waiting for the day when everything we've worked for will come to a shattering end.
I can feel her even without looking at her. Sometimes I feel her coming into my room at the dead of night. She must know I'm not asleep; how can I be with all her fire and passion burning so keenly in the moonlight? She's a siren singing a song lulling me into hell, her body makes me burn so bright with fervor I always feel my own reacting to hers. As if our very bones know each other as old as time; we're Peter and Claire, have been and always, always will be. Always together, always apart.
She watches the others leave with heavy-lidded eyes, eyes masked with intent. She's no longer a mystery but I'm intrigued by this deviation of our pattern; we're usually so careful to keep our real selves hidden from each other. Because this is the supreme irony that we've become; I'm so close to her and she to me that should we expose our true feelings, the world would surely ignite from the contact. We're two fiery brands that must be kept hidden, unseen from all the world. Because if – when we finally meet, all hell will break loose and we'll give ourselves entirely to despair.
Give ourselves entirely to each other.
"Peter." She whispers, and there's no faint cloying tone this time. Her breath's raw and naked against my skin. I can feel her yearning for me matched only by mine for her. I want to reach out and run my hands over her skin, want to arch back and devour everything in her that'll be offered to me.
This is our end, but there's never been a beginning. We are an eternal circle you see, joined in the beginning and the end. But there is no beginning and there is no end; we have and always will have been.
There's a story in here, somewhere. A story that I'll share with you one day.
Author's Note 2: I'm a bit torn as to whether to continue - hence I haven't labelled it as a prologue. WIPs drive me crazy with worry, and so far I've tried steering clear of them after Dreaming Through The Twilight. But it's tempting. Argh.