I'm a Super Hero

[chimeramimicry]

"I'm a Super Hero"
Who: Peter and...Peter?
When: After a visit to Nathan's office, Peter's older brother decides to take him out for dinner and a surprise.  The 'surprise,' it seems, is on Nathan though!  It's been about three months since that night and Peter's life is about to change forever...

I'm not having a very good day.  I don't know how I've let it happen, but I've been stuck into the pediatrics group.  I'm the only guy on the entire floor, minus two male OB/GYN doctors and various boyfriends and husbands that go to visit the nursery or track me down to help them find their nurse.  Boy, are they surprised when the guy in the baby blue scrubs is their nurse!

All I want to do is sleep.  But no.

No, of course not because there's someone in my apartment.  I know it's not the best neighborhood but I've never heard of a break and enter in my building before.  I don't even think to grab my cell, just the umbrella from the stand by the door and brandish it like a bat.

"HEY!"

Comments

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

I'm pretty sure by this point that I've hit my head or I got hit by a car and I'm in a coma and dreaming all of this because that's definitely my voice. What are the chances of some drunk, insane hobo breaking in who happens to have my voice?

My voice asking the sort of stuff you expect people to say in science fiction movies, not in your living room! 'What year is it?' Really? I guess it sort of goes with the whole 'pinning me against the wall without touching me' theme going on here anyhow.

Well, what's there to do but answer?

"It's December 2005, and let me go!"

There's something weird about the man in the dark, and that's because, as my eyes adjust, I realize that I'm looking at myself.

There's an all new terror that creeps up on my after that and I feel myself struggle. Not just because I really don't like how I look with short hair, but because I'm suddenly in a Terminator situation. Or like when Ben from the 'Fantastic Four' goes to the past in an alternate reality and meets himself only to realize that Spider Man is part of the Fantastic Four and Ben's just a bartender with no super powers or mutation at all!

[fallen-empath.livejournal.com]

In December of 2005, I was finishing my nursing degree, and I'd just gotten this place. That explains all the cardboard boxes still scattered around the living room, the beat-up armchairs and scuffed coffee table. After Nathan's death, for some reason I couldn't stand the sight of the clutter, and I moved everything I didn't throw away into storage. Or maybe it was because he and I spent so much time here together. From where I'm standing, I can see that there's a bottle of Scotch sitting on the counter in the kitchen. I never drank that stuff.

After the virus swept itself across the entire world, taking my mother and my brother with it, everything changed for me. My primary focus shifted from finding and stopping Sylar, to finding a way to correct the mistake I'd made because I was too naive to know I'd been manipulated. No matter how I tried to change the past, the result never varied from total and utter destruction of life as we knew it.

It would seem that I was off by a good two years when I made the jump to my apartment in New York, and now here we are, two extremely different versions of the same person, warily staring one another down.

I break the silence once it's clear to me that he's just going to stand there and gape at me.

"Just relax, all right? I'm not going to hurt you. But you have to listen to me. The fate of the entire world depends on it."

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

When you suddenly show up with a bad hair cut and the ability to fling people around like puppets, you listen to them. Even before they deliver the all too exciting 'the fate of the entire world depends on it' speech.

I sort of feel a little faint and now I'm really very sure I'm dreaming which is all right because man, this is a really cool dream! "You've come to the future to tell me there's going to be an apocalypse? Like...is Skynet going to come online? Is there a league of evil forming? Oh my God, I can go back in time and...what's that? Telekinesis? What else can I do?"

He looks taken aback, but yanno what? My dream. Mine. I get to pick how amazingly awesome I can be and my other dream self can look at confused as he likes! I don't care.

"Can I fly? Am I super strong? You know which one I've always wanted? Teleporting!"

[fallen-empath.livejournal.com]

Well, he's definitely not scared anymore. My past self is positively beaming with excitement now. I can't help but laugh, because really, it's just like me to spew comic book references and ask ridiculous questions like that, isn't it?

This version of me has no idea what he is capable of yet. The truth is, he --well, I guess we-- can do all those things and more. I don't know whether it's the best idea to warn him of that too, or just let it come naturally. No future me came and warned me I was about to become a human sponge, soaking up special abilities left and right. Just being here is a huge clue in itself, and now that I think about it, the more he knows, the better equipped he'll be to deal with the repercussions of this ability. This Peter Petrelli is a clean slate, and I can steer him in the right direction from the very beginning.

I show off a little for him, righting the tipped-over umbrella rack with just a twitch of my finger, and creating blue fire in the palm of my hand.

"You've got the ability to do just about anything, Peter." It feels a little strange to be addressing my past self by name, but what else am I going to call him?

"You're a real life superhero, and you're going to save the world." Because I couldn't. But that doesn't matter, not anymore. For the first time in a long time, I remember what hope feels like.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

A real life super hero? I don't care if I'm dreaming. This is the best dream that I've had. Ever. And I've always had some pretty epic dreams, haven't I? I like the ones were I fly the best. So while it is pretty damned cool that he can clean up after himself and stick my still bent umbrella back in it's place, and he can pin me to walls and dresses in black coats, what I really want--

"I want to fly. Can we? We you-- are we like Superman?"

I have no idea why flying's always been something so close to me. I blame Nathan. For most of my childhood, I use to imagine that Nathan was flying every plane that passed over head.

I inch closer to him. To me. Christ, am I really that small? It's worse than looking in a mirror.

[fallen-empath.livejournal.com]

My answer to his question is more abrupt than I meant for it to be.

"No, I can't fly."

It's more like, I don't want to fly. I haven't done it in a long time. Teleportation is more practical and quicker and -- oh, Christ, who am I kidding? It just makes me miss my brother even more.

He's going to know I'm lying; I've always been pretty terrible at it, and even though the full spectrum of his ability hasn't manifested yet, his empathy works just fine. If he's bothering to pay attention to it at all through his excitement, he'll know.

When he takes a few tiny steps closer to me, I get the strange urge to do the same thing. I still own the pair of jeans and the worn out t-shirt he's wearing.

Instinctively, I raise my hand to push my hair out of my face even though I don't have any left, and I sigh, letting it drop.

"There's a lot of other things we can do. Anything but that, all right?"

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

I shouldn't be looking at him like he's a science experiment and we're both lucky that neither of us has gotten the light in the living room at all or I might be trying to line up my freckles for his. As it is, I stalk around him like I use to with Nathan. I'm not playing lion and lion tamer, however.

Yanno, for this kind of dream, you'd think that I'd have made him look a little less cliche. Black trench, messy, chopped up hair, perpetual frown... I just don't pull off the bad ass look all that well.

Pity.

I think I should have kept my longer shag and just gelled it back instead. Right. Only I would nit pick my dreamed up future outfit like this!

Scratching the back of my neck, I stand just behind his left shoulder and wonder if it's weird to check out my own ass -- I'm just curious! -- when he suddenly seems so very, very sad. I'm not going to ask why the thought of flying hurts him.

"Can you shoot webs?"

[fallen-empath.livejournal.com]

I try to shake off the sadness at yet another one of his ridiculous questions, asked in my very own voice. He's circling around me now, and I can virtually feel his eyes on me, scrutinizing me.

Anyone else would think that what he's doing is just plain crazy, but this is a crazy situation, now isn't it? Meeting yourself from the future? I know I wouldn't have believed it then either.

I don't even bother turning around to face him; I can sense where he is and what his intentions are.

He only half-believes me. He thinks he's dreaming! I have to get his attention, and if fire and TK didn't, then I'm running out of options. I'm not going to cut myself or plant thoughts in his head. God damn it.

"Nah, but that'd be pretty cool if I could," I say, flinging open the balcony doors. "I'd be Spiderman. But Superman is definitely cooler." I grab his hand and pull him towards the window.

"You want to fly? Jump. I'll catch you. Scout's honor." I give him my trademark crooked grin, because I just know he'll do it. I would have.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

Jump.

I'm dreaming so it doesn't matter, right? I'll jump and hit the pavement and wake up with my nose smashed on the floor by my bed. I'm already imagining myself calling Nathan with a quick, breathless voice when I wake up. Evidently, I have an over active imagination even my sleep. Good to know that if I ever happen to find myself in a coma, I'm going to at least keep myself from boredom!

Standing on the edge of the fire escape, I glance back at myself and take a deep breath. "If you don't catch me, you'd better hope I don't become a zombie and eat your brains!"

It's only amusing to me and I pitch myself over the side. It's dark. There's wind in my hair. My heart's going a mile a minute.

And I panic.

Because dear Lord, I just threw myself out of my window!

[fallen-empath.livejournal.com]

I give him a puzzled look; what do zombies have to do with anything? I'm about to ask him, but all I see is empty space where Peter was just standing. He actually did it. He jumped! I'm still a little bit surprised, even though I knew he would!

Out the window I go, right behind him, neither one of us having thought anything of jumping off the fire escape ten stories up. For me it's no big deal, but for him? It takes a special mixture of trust and naivete that I've long since lost.

I keep a barely discernible hold on him with my telekinesis, but to him I know it feels like a total free-fall for another few seconds. Then I swoop down towards him and slow his descent until he's hovering right next to me. He's breathing hard, his eyes are wide and his hair is a wind-blown mess.

Now I know just why Nathan would do just about anything to get a smile out of me; my panicked look is really frightening!

I remember the first time Nathan and I flew together; he was about five times as fast as I was. I stared after him in awe when he broke the sound barrier, the noise almost deafening. Flying made me so happy, and even though Nathan is gone, he'd still want me to love it as much as I did then.

So I will. I push full speed into the night, my past self coming along for the ride.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

So it's not exactly cool to try doggy paddling in the air, but if I don't move my limbs, I just feel like I'm going to drop right out of the God damn sky and...no thanks on that!

"Peter! Yo! ME! HEY YOU!" I don't know what to call him. 'Hey you' sounds the most appropriate though! The moment he stops, I wrap every single appendage I own around him. Who cares if it looks funny to cling to yourself? Or that it's probably really childish to wrap my legs around his waist like this.

I'm scared and it's wonderful too. I just need someone to hold onto. Baby steps, yanno? It's like when dad tossed me into the deep end of the pool without my swimmies. Thank God for Nathan being there so I could have him to hold onto. Well, I'm sure dad meant to toss me to my brother and not drown me anyhow, but still, Nathan's just always been that kind of hero to me.

And yeah, I know I'm not six, but so sue me!

[fallen-empath.livejournal.com]

I have to admit, it's just about the strangest feeling in the world to be holding onto yourself. Or is that, having yourself holding onto you? He's got his arms and legs wrapped around me so tightly I can barely breathe!

"Okay, okay! I said I'd catch you, but not literally! Let up a little!"

It's a little mind-bending, actually. He is me, but he's also an entirely different person than me. Well, that's not entirely true. Only time and experience bridge the gap between us. I remember feeling just the way he does right now; scared to death and exhilarated all at once. In a different time and place, with Nathan. Although I don't think I clung to my brother quite this completely, not until we got back home, at least...

I'm not even going to think about that right now.

Giving him a squeeze for reassurance, I ask, "You want to keep flying, right? Then just hold my hand or something! I promise I won't drop you. Suicide's a mortal sin," I finish, laughing at my own twisted sense of humor. It's probably the only thing that's kept me sane, to be honest.

I'm going with telekinesis here for the holding him up power.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

Holding his hand means I'm just going to dangle. This is a lot less like Superman than I thought it'd be. Not that I want to be Lois Lane taking a trip around Metrocity. We live in Batman's domain anyhow. And his friendship with Superman is sketchy and, if you believe what you read in online chat sites were girls go, sometimes have angry hate-love sex.

I don't get fanfiction. I tried to read a story once to Nathan for laughs about the Fantastic Four's ultimate love for each other and he shot me one of those: 'I'll kill you if you say another word, Pete' looks that I really love so much.

I do. It's a little masochistic of me I guess.

Anyhow, he takes my hand now, this other me, and before I know it, we're riding high in the sky, fingers laced together. Now this is more like the dreams I've been having.

"WOOOHOO!"

Yeah, that's what he's doing. ^__^

[fallen-empath.livejournal.com]

I'm much more comfortable when he decides to listen to me, his hand finding mine, and I push forward as hard as I can. His heartfelt shout simultaneously reminds me of Leonardo DiCaprio in 'Titanic', and fills me with happiness, and I can't help but laugh. This is how I'm supposed to feel because I'm flying.

I'm flying. How could I forget?

I glance over at him, and I expect nothing but that impossibly happy face as we speed through the starlit sky, nearly approaching the speed of sound.

It hurts a little bit, because this moment of mine, of his, was meant for Nathan, not me. Does that even make sense?

I still kind of can't get my mind around it, showing my own self how it feels to be Superman. But there's also that lingering feeling that everything I'm changing right now, I'm changing for the better. Preparing him. Preparing myself for the dire situation that awaits me. Him.

I wish I could protect him from it entirely, but somehow I know that's not the way of things. I can save him, and myself, and everyone from a lot of heartache if I just trust my instincts this time. Don't overthink things. Nathan always told me, jokingly of course, that my job was to feel, not think.

And that's the thought that makes me shout just as loud as he does.

"Superman's got nothing on us!"

Up early or just not asleep yet?

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

It's over too fast, but as he land on the fire escape, I realize that my legs just don't work anymore. I fall to the rusting steel with a giddy laugh stuck in my throat and turn my gaze up for him. "I better not be dreaming."

Though maybe I ought to be because I think I just fell in love with myself. It's not narcissistic! It's just...he's awesome. He's sort of my dream self, the guy I want to be. The guy I'd kill to be best friends with!

So after he drags me in, and I lay on the floor laughing and panting for a little while, I finally manage to stop acting like a five year old and join him on the couch.

He's got a picture of me -- us -- and Nathan in his hand. "Does he ever believe me? What I can do?"

Because deep down, it's what I live for -- recognition by my big brother.

[fallen-empath.livejournal.com]

I'm quiet for a little while, coming down from the rush of flight, just gazing at the picture of my brother and me at his and Heidi's wedding. I've looked at this picture so much, I convinced myself we were happy at that moment. I was, but at the same time I felt like I was losing everything. And eventually I did.

My past self parks himself right next to me on the couch with our typical disregard for personal space. Not that it bothers me.

I look over at him, and I know I'm smiling like a little kid does when he's got big news to spill.

"Does he believe you? He's got no choice but to believe you. Because he can do it too."

And that's when it hits me -- the way Nathan finds out he can fly. The accident. Heidi. It's a dangerous thing, changing something that doesn't have any direct relevance to the thing I'm trying to fix. But it might. Everything's connected.

I set the picture down and grab him by the shoulders. "The dreams... you should be having them by now. Aren't you? Did you tell him yet?" I'm asking him questions I already know the answers to. I never got the chance to tell Nathan, because I was afraid he wouldn't believe me. And then it was too late.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

"Yeah right, he's going to believe--" I'm so busy bad mouthing Nathan for being a sucky brother that never listens when I pause and backtrack to what I said easier. He said earlier. Peter... Oh, this is going to get more and more confusing.

I rub my forehead. I need to center myself before I ask for clarification. And even after I get it, I don't really buy it.

"Oh, c'mon, Nathan can only fly with a plane." But he looks so serious. I almost itch to call him. I swallow. "He's...working late. We can go and see him?"

It sounds like a good plan. He'll have to believe one of me!

[fallen-empath.livejournal.com]

"I... um... well..."

I really don't know if going to see Nathan is such a great idea. First of all, he's going to think he's hallucinating when he sees two of his brother waltz into his office. Second of all, I might start crying. I've always made it a point not to go anywhere near alternate versions of my brother when I time-travel. Too risky, and too heartbreaking. If I'm going to fix everything, I'll have him back again when it's over. It's a belief I've clung to for the past two years.

But maybe that's where I've been going about this all wrong. Nathan is a major player in the events that lead up to the spread of the virus. Tipping him off might be just the difference I need to make in order to avert the hell of my present time. If he believes me, that is.

"All right," I say, smiling when I realize I can have a little fun with this too. "Want to see something else you can do?"

I stand up, still smiling, and cast an illusion, making myself appear female. I choose the form of a girl I had a serious crush on and was way too afraid to even talk to when I was doing my clinicals. I'm mean to myself, aren't I? I've always been a masochist, but this really takes the cake.

"Recognize me?"

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

"Oh. My God. You're Vanessa." I'm more intimidated now than ever before because she's here, the girl I've been jerking off to for the last four months is standing here. In my apartment. I almost want to ask her to get undressed, just so I can see, but that would be way too Nathan for my general comfort levels.

So instead I jump off of the couch and put it between me and her. Err him.

"That's really, really cool! Can you be anyone?" Can I touch your tits? Yeah, that'd go over soooo well. I'd slap myself. Deservedly too, I might add..