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Oct. 19th, 2006 08:32 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
heywilmaTitle: Futures and Truths
Characters/Pairings: Hiro, Peter, various cameos.
Rating: PG
Warnings: Character death
Spoiler alert: Spoilers for episode 4, Collision.
Summary: He wasn't keeping count, but Hiro had met Peter 188 times.
Author's note: Un-betaed. This is the first real fic I've written in about two years. >.> + Obligatory disclaimer, not mine, NBC's, used without permission and so on.
Peter Petrelli.
The first time Hiro Nakamura met Peter, he had pronounced "Petrelli" wrong. Petto-rerry was how he said it, even though he did try. Peter had laughed, not because he found Hiro's effort funny, but just because. Hiro had been embarrassed by this, and, blushing furiously, tried to apologise, only to fumble with the unfamiliar English language, and resorted to Japanese.
"Gomen nasai, Peter-kun," he said, head dipped in a little bow.
I'm sorry if I scared you.
The fourth time Hiro Nakamura met Peter, he was very aware of the ominous number. The number four, shi, meaning death. Hiro had never taken with ancient legends and superstitions, but the act of avoiding the number had been taught to him at a very early age, by people who were very influenced by this culture.
No one died then, but that luck wasn't to last for long.
You look different without your scar.
The twenty-second time Hiro Nakamura met Peter, he had long stopped counting the number of meetings. He found it difficult to look Peter in the eye, not because he was unconfident, or that he felt guilty about something, it was just that something else drew the attention.
"Does it hurt?" he asked idly, unnecessarily, no longer struggling with his second language.
Peter blinked. It wasn't much of a blink anymore- when only one eyelid was functioning, and the other was just spasming flesh- but it didn't look much like a wink either.
"Yes," he answered, a pause in his rhythm before he dropped the torch onto the stack of firewood, on top of the body of his brother.
"I don't know you, buddy." Not yet.
The thirty-ninth time Hiro Nakamura met Peter, they were in the company of other Heroes. It was a name that Micah had given them, and even though they all denied that they fit the description- if a world ended, it meant that there were no heroes there to stop it- Hiro liked it.
"So I'm a hero now," he stated quite plainly, balancing his sword on two fingers. It was a gift from Mohinder, but it had been Peter who acquired it from Japan, at great risk to his own wellbeing.
"You've always been a Hiro," was Peter's reply, saying the 'ro' nice and sharp as to distinguish between the two words. He didn't smile when he said this, although Hiro did.
Hiro couldn't remember the last time he saw anyone smile.
My name is Hiro Nakamura, I'm from the future.
The one hundred and eighty-seventh time Hiro Nakamura met Peter, he had been awake for five whole days. It had been impossible to sleep as he went over the plans with the others, fine-tuning the coordinates of his journey. In the precious minutes he had to rest, he helped address the wounds of those who still had a chance.
"More bandages," Peter held out a hand without looking up, without any unnecessary pleasantries.
Hiro handed over the last of the cloth silently, watching Peter unwind it, and attempt to make the most of the length of fabric.
"Damn it!"
He didn't flinch when Peter raised his voice, or when he kicked over the small medicine box in a fit of rage, or when he started to rip his own shirt to shreds, for makeshift bandages. It was hopeless- there just weren’t enough supplies to go around.
When Peter covered his face with his hands, Hiro looked away. He knew there were no tears, no sadness, only anger and frustration, but it was a rare moment of weakness, and Hiro felt like he was intruding on something more personal, more intimate than anything he'd ever witnessed.
"Is this where you imagine you'd end up, ten years ago?" It came out as a murmur, like he couldn't decide whether he was asking this of Hiro, or of himself. "When you get there, don't tell him, okay? Don't tell me."
Hiro knew he meant to say 'please'.
I have a message for you.
The one hundred and eighty-eighth time Hiro Nakamura met Peter, he wouldn't tell him.
Characters/Pairings: Hiro, Peter, various cameos.
Rating: PG
Warnings: Character death
Spoiler alert: Spoilers for episode 4, Collision.
Summary: He wasn't keeping count, but Hiro had met Peter 188 times.
Author's note: Un-betaed. This is the first real fic I've written in about two years. >.> + Obligatory disclaimer, not mine, NBC's, used without permission and so on.
Peter Petrelli.
The first time Hiro Nakamura met Peter, he had pronounced "Petrelli" wrong. Petto-rerry was how he said it, even though he did try. Peter had laughed, not because he found Hiro's effort funny, but just because. Hiro had been embarrassed by this, and, blushing furiously, tried to apologise, only to fumble with the unfamiliar English language, and resorted to Japanese.
"Gomen nasai, Peter-kun," he said, head dipped in a little bow.
I'm sorry if I scared you.
The fourth time Hiro Nakamura met Peter, he was very aware of the ominous number. The number four, shi, meaning death. Hiro had never taken with ancient legends and superstitions, but the act of avoiding the number had been taught to him at a very early age, by people who were very influenced by this culture.
No one died then, but that luck wasn't to last for long.
You look different without your scar.
The twenty-second time Hiro Nakamura met Peter, he had long stopped counting the number of meetings. He found it difficult to look Peter in the eye, not because he was unconfident, or that he felt guilty about something, it was just that something else drew the attention.
"Does it hurt?" he asked idly, unnecessarily, no longer struggling with his second language.
Peter blinked. It wasn't much of a blink anymore- when only one eyelid was functioning, and the other was just spasming flesh- but it didn't look much like a wink either.
"Yes," he answered, a pause in his rhythm before he dropped the torch onto the stack of firewood, on top of the body of his brother.
"I don't know you, buddy." Not yet.
The thirty-ninth time Hiro Nakamura met Peter, they were in the company of other Heroes. It was a name that Micah had given them, and even though they all denied that they fit the description- if a world ended, it meant that there were no heroes there to stop it- Hiro liked it.
"So I'm a hero now," he stated quite plainly, balancing his sword on two fingers. It was a gift from Mohinder, but it had been Peter who acquired it from Japan, at great risk to his own wellbeing.
"You've always been a Hiro," was Peter's reply, saying the 'ro' nice and sharp as to distinguish between the two words. He didn't smile when he said this, although Hiro did.
Hiro couldn't remember the last time he saw anyone smile.
My name is Hiro Nakamura, I'm from the future.
The one hundred and eighty-seventh time Hiro Nakamura met Peter, he had been awake for five whole days. It had been impossible to sleep as he went over the plans with the others, fine-tuning the coordinates of his journey. In the precious minutes he had to rest, he helped address the wounds of those who still had a chance.
"More bandages," Peter held out a hand without looking up, without any unnecessary pleasantries.
Hiro handed over the last of the cloth silently, watching Peter unwind it, and attempt to make the most of the length of fabric.
"Damn it!"
He didn't flinch when Peter raised his voice, or when he kicked over the small medicine box in a fit of rage, or when he started to rip his own shirt to shreds, for makeshift bandages. It was hopeless- there just weren’t enough supplies to go around.
When Peter covered his face with his hands, Hiro looked away. He knew there were no tears, no sadness, only anger and frustration, but it was a rare moment of weakness, and Hiro felt like he was intruding on something more personal, more intimate than anything he'd ever witnessed.
"Is this where you imagine you'd end up, ten years ago?" It came out as a murmur, like he couldn't decide whether he was asking this of Hiro, or of himself. "When you get there, don't tell him, okay? Don't tell me."
Hiro knew he meant to say 'please'.
I have a message for you.
The one hundred and eighty-eighth time Hiro Nakamura met Peter, he wouldn't tell him.
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Date: 2006-10-18 11:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-19 04:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-19 12:03 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-19 04:48 am (UTC):) Thank you.
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Date: 2006-10-19 01:00 am (UTC)Uh oh. And here I thought I was through with fandom and ficdom!
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Date: 2006-10-19 04:49 am (UTC)Fandom awaits your return! Glad you liked the fic.
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Date: 2006-10-19 03:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-19 04:51 am (UTC)Glad you enjoyed it :)
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Date: 2006-10-19 03:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-19 03:12 am (UTC)Great job again! You write Hiro and Peter so well!
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Date: 2006-10-19 04:52 am (UTC)Thank you, and so glad you liked it!
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Date: 2006-10-19 04:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-19 04:53 am (UTC)Thanks! ♥
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Date: 2006-10-19 04:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-19 04:54 am (UTC)Thanks!
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Date: 2006-10-19 08:12 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-19 11:52 am (UTC)♥
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Date: 2007-01-28 10:41 pm (UTC)