hackthis_archive (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hackthis_archive) wrote2007-10-23 01:03 pm
hackthis_archive) wrote2007-10-23 01:03 pm
Entry tags:
Heroes - God Bless the Child That's Got His Own (Nathan, Peter, G)
This is not a real story. I have real stories on deck. Stories about Torchwood sex!crack and Chuck/Awesome adoration, this is just, this is ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
svmadelyn's fault. Oh and heidi8 can share the blame, too.
Heroes,
Spoilers for 2.05 'Fight or Flight'
Nathan, Peter, G
God Bless the Child That's Got His Own
According to Dr. Spock, children begin to talk between one and two years of age. Nathan Petrelli began speaking two days after his first birthday. His first word was "Da da." Upon hearing this accomplishment, his mother frowned; his father was delighted. Nathan's pediatrician said it was perfectly normal for 'da da' to be a child's first word. It was much easier for a young child to pronounce 'da da' than 'ma ma.' Or Mother. Or just 'Ma'.
*
Nathan's second word was 'mine.' Neither of his parents were surprised. This, at least, was in keeping with the Petrelli line.
*
The word 'Ma' didn't cross Nathan's lips until he was almost 18 months old; 'cookie' 'want' and 'now' all came before.
*
Nathan's terrible twos were indeed terrible and lasted entirely too long if you were to ask his mother. Every other word out of Nathan's mouth was, "No!" By three, however, the no's were over and Nathan began to ask for exactly what he wanted, when he wanted it: "I want a cookie" or "I want to play" or "I want a brother."
In fact, when Nathan's mother transcribed Nathan's Christmas List, the entire list was:
Nathan's mother said, "We'll see what Santa can do."
Nathan furrowed his little brow and wrinkled his nose. He had no one to play with. No one share his toys or take the fall when Nathan broke something he wasn't supposed to touch. He had no one for Cowboys and Indians or Cops and Robbers. Besides, Petrellis didn't negotiate. Nathan wanted and he wanted now.
Santa didn't do much for Nathan that year though. All he got was socks and clothes and six toys -- two of which his mother made him donate to charity. She said Nathan had to learn how to appreciate what he had. She didn't want her son to be spoiled. Nathan had a responsibility. He was meant for civic duty; he had to start young.
*
When Nathan was four, his nanny left in the middle of the night and didn't say good-bye. Nathan wasn't attached to her -- Greta -- she was just another person in a long-line of caretakers. What made Greta's departure curious to Nathan was the fact that nobody talked about her afterwards. It was as though she hadn't existed in the first place. Nathan didn't understand the murmuring from the staff, the whispers of Greta being in 'trouble', but he knew something was wrong. He knew his mother was displeased and his father didn't seem to leave his library. Greta was replaced by Margot, who had a mole on her nose with three hairs; Nathan didn't like her at all.
*
Santa didn't bring Nathan a brother when he was three, or four, or five, or six. Nathan's mother said Nathan had to be better. She said Santa only brought brothers and sisters to good kids, to kids that did everything they were told, who kept their clothing clean and didn't speak unless they were spoken to. Except that Nathan's best friend in kindergarten, Harry Brigante, had three older brothers and two younger sisters and he was bad bad bad. Which was probably why he and Nathan got along so well.
When Nathan pointed out that Harry always ate the last cookie and still had all the brothers and sisters he could want, Harry laughed.
"If you give me your G.I. Joe, I'll let you have them all," Harry said, but Nathan didn't want one of Harry's used siblings, he wanted one of his own.
*
By seven Nathan had stopped asking Santa for a brother or sister. By eight he didn't believe in Santa anymore anyway. At nine his father and mother began insisting he stay awake during the entire Christmas Mass. When Nathan was ten he was sent away to boarding school, and he decided that he needed to start using Christmas for its real purpose: sneaking eggnog in his glass and eating as many cookies as possible during the family Christmas party.
*
People who aren't only children don't understand what it means to be all alone. They don't understand the pressure to perform, the self-reliance. Only children are independent, they are their own little countries. They share with no one. Only children can be arrogant. And conceited. And a little difficult to deal with. Nathan didn't know any of this then, and so when his eleventh Christmas came around, the last thing he was expecting was to get the only thing he'd ever really wanted in the first place.
In fact, when Nathan came home for break on the 23rd of December in 1979 and found his mother not at home, he wasn't sure whether to be disappointed or relieved. Except his father wasn't there either, and that wasn't like Pop at all.
When the car came to collect Nathan, he wasn't sure what was going on, and when Ross, the chauffeur, stopped off at the florist to pick up flowers, Nathan grew even more alarmed. "You'll need these," Ross said cryptically, handing the elaborate arrangement to Nathan before getting back on the road.
By the time the car pulled up to St. Joseph's, Nathan was this close to utter panic, but his father was waiting in the lobby, and his hand was a firm guide on Nathan's shoulder as they took the elevator up to the 4th floor.
When Nathan walked into the hospital room and saw his mother lying in a bed, there was a moment of
panicexcitementworryohgodjustbecauseihatehersometimesdoesntmeanIwantherdead
And then the cart beside his mother began to howl, and Nathan's heart stopped in his chest.
After all those years of wanting, Nathan had learned how to deal with disappointment. He'd learned not to think about this. But when his mother took a wriggling bundle out of the cart and presented it to Nathan, everything in Nathan's mind went back to his early years.
Peter was tiny and blotchy and pink, with a mass of black hair. His eyes weren't even open yet, and he was too late to play Cops and Robbers or take the blame for Nathan's mistakes. And yet, Peter was everything that Nathan had ever wanted, and when Nathan looked down on his little brother all he could think was, Mine.
-end-
+ Title from song by Billie Holiday.
+ Forsvmadelyn and heidi8
+ According to 2.05, Peter is indeed a Christmas baby. Of course he's also apparently A GIRL. Man, I can't wait to see how they explain this one.
svmadelyn's fault. Oh and heidi8 can share the blame, too.Heroes,
Spoilers for 2.05 'Fight or Flight'
Nathan, Peter, G
According to Dr. Spock, children begin to talk between one and two years of age. Nathan Petrelli began speaking two days after his first birthday. His first word was "Da da." Upon hearing this accomplishment, his mother frowned; his father was delighted. Nathan's pediatrician said it was perfectly normal for 'da da' to be a child's first word. It was much easier for a young child to pronounce 'da da' than 'ma ma.' Or Mother. Or just 'Ma'.
Nathan's second word was 'mine.' Neither of his parents were surprised. This, at least, was in keeping with the Petrelli line.
The word 'Ma' didn't cross Nathan's lips until he was almost 18 months old; 'cookie' 'want' and 'now' all came before.
Nathan's terrible twos were indeed terrible and lasted entirely too long if you were to ask his mother. Every other word out of Nathan's mouth was, "No!" By three, however, the no's were over and Nathan began to ask for exactly what he wanted, when he wanted it: "I want a cookie" or "I want to play" or "I want a brother."
In fact, when Nathan's mother transcribed Nathan's Christmas List, the entire list was:
1. I want a brother.
2. More Legos, please.
Nathan's mother said, "We'll see what Santa can do."
Nathan furrowed his little brow and wrinkled his nose. He had no one to play with. No one share his toys or take the fall when Nathan broke something he wasn't supposed to touch. He had no one for Cowboys and Indians or Cops and Robbers. Besides, Petrellis didn't negotiate. Nathan wanted and he wanted now.
Santa didn't do much for Nathan that year though. All he got was socks and clothes and six toys -- two of which his mother made him donate to charity. She said Nathan had to learn how to appreciate what he had. She didn't want her son to be spoiled. Nathan had a responsibility. He was meant for civic duty; he had to start young.
When Nathan was four, his nanny left in the middle of the night and didn't say good-bye. Nathan wasn't attached to her -- Greta -- she was just another person in a long-line of caretakers. What made Greta's departure curious to Nathan was the fact that nobody talked about her afterwards. It was as though she hadn't existed in the first place. Nathan didn't understand the murmuring from the staff, the whispers of Greta being in 'trouble', but he knew something was wrong. He knew his mother was displeased and his father didn't seem to leave his library. Greta was replaced by Margot, who had a mole on her nose with three hairs; Nathan didn't like her at all.
Santa didn't bring Nathan a brother when he was three, or four, or five, or six. Nathan's mother said Nathan had to be better. She said Santa only brought brothers and sisters to good kids, to kids that did everything they were told, who kept their clothing clean and didn't speak unless they were spoken to. Except that Nathan's best friend in kindergarten, Harry Brigante, had three older brothers and two younger sisters and he was bad bad bad. Which was probably why he and Nathan got along so well.
When Nathan pointed out that Harry always ate the last cookie and still had all the brothers and sisters he could want, Harry laughed.
"If you give me your G.I. Joe, I'll let you have them all," Harry said, but Nathan didn't want one of Harry's used siblings, he wanted one of his own.
By seven Nathan had stopped asking Santa for a brother or sister. By eight he didn't believe in Santa anymore anyway. At nine his father and mother began insisting he stay awake during the entire Christmas Mass. When Nathan was ten he was sent away to boarding school, and he decided that he needed to start using Christmas for its real purpose: sneaking eggnog in his glass and eating as many cookies as possible during the family Christmas party.
People who aren't only children don't understand what it means to be all alone. They don't understand the pressure to perform, the self-reliance. Only children are independent, they are their own little countries. They share with no one. Only children can be arrogant. And conceited. And a little difficult to deal with. Nathan didn't know any of this then, and so when his eleventh Christmas came around, the last thing he was expecting was to get the only thing he'd ever really wanted in the first place.
In fact, when Nathan came home for break on the 23rd of December in 1979 and found his mother not at home, he wasn't sure whether to be disappointed or relieved. Except his father wasn't there either, and that wasn't like Pop at all.
When the car came to collect Nathan, he wasn't sure what was going on, and when Ross, the chauffeur, stopped off at the florist to pick up flowers, Nathan grew even more alarmed. "You'll need these," Ross said cryptically, handing the elaborate arrangement to Nathan before getting back on the road.
By the time the car pulled up to St. Joseph's, Nathan was this close to utter panic, but his father was waiting in the lobby, and his hand was a firm guide on Nathan's shoulder as they took the elevator up to the 4th floor.
When Nathan walked into the hospital room and saw his mother lying in a bed, there was a moment of
And then the cart beside his mother began to howl, and Nathan's heart stopped in his chest.
After all those years of wanting, Nathan had learned how to deal with disappointment. He'd learned not to think about this. But when his mother took a wriggling bundle out of the cart and presented it to Nathan, everything in Nathan's mind went back to his early years.
Peter was tiny and blotchy and pink, with a mass of black hair. His eyes weren't even open yet, and he was too late to play Cops and Robbers or take the blame for Nathan's mistakes. And yet, Peter was everything that Nathan had ever wanted, and when Nathan looked down on his little brother all he could think was, Mine.
-end-
+ Title from song by Billie Holiday.
+ For
svmadelyn and heidi8+ According to 2.05, Peter is indeed a Christmas baby. Of course he's also apparently A GIRL. Man, I can't wait to see how they explain this one.
no subject
Nathan had enjoyed all the attention and when asked what he had eaten so far that day, didn't mention the red Popsicles.
Angela Petrelli had not been impressed. She had taken one look at Nathan's red stained fingers and had known exactly what happened. Still, the nurse at the hospital had given Nathan three stickers and had let him play with the blood pressure machine, so the adventure had been worth it despite that he hadn't been allowed Popsicles for the rest of the summer.
When Peter was five-years-old, Nathan had told Peter this story in an effort to get Peter to shut up and gross him out. Peter's eyes had gone wide at the mention of bright red puke, and he had shut up, but there had been a thoughtful expression of Peter's face that should have warned Nathan that something very bad was about to happen.
Later that night, Nathan was woken up by a hysterical Peter pounding on his door.
"It won't come out!" Peter said frantically.
Peter was breathing hard, but nothing seemed actually wrong with him
"What won't come up out?" Nathan said calmly, picking Peter up and trying to inspect him for damage.
"I wanted to sneeze blue," Peter said which was most definitely not an answer to his question.
"What?" Nathan asked.
"You puked red, so I wanted to sneeze blue," Peter explained.
It was the type of logic that only made sense to a five-year-old. Nathan wasn't sure if he was about to panic or start laughing hysterically.
"What did you do, Peter?" Nathan asked, trying to sound stern.
"I put a blue Crayon up my nose!" Peter said proudly.
Nathan tried very hard not to laugh.
"But then it broke and now it's stuck," Peter finished sadly.
"This," Nathan said as seriously as he possibly could, "is why you should never be allowed to play unsupervised."
no subject