Heidi Petrelli (walks_again) wrote in parabolical, @ 2008-10-17 16:52:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | claire bennet (future), heidi petrelli, narrative, nathan petrelli, peter petrelli (future), thread |
who| Heidi and Nathan Petrelli
what| What doesn't kill you is just paving the way for what will.
where| The streets; LA
when| October 17; Evening.
rating| PG-13
status| Narrative followed by thread; Incomplete.
warnings| Character death.
Sometimes you're meant to survive the big things.
Heidi and Nathan had, at the former's insistance and the latter's gratitude, put aside work and deeper discussions for the evening. There was a jazz joint that Heidi had discovered tucked away in the back streets downtown, and had been impatient to test it against their ears and feet. Leaving from the Hyperion roof, they arrived in the alley entryway looking windblown enough for her to linger a moment outside the door to restore their hairstyles to relative order before being ushered eagerly inside by Nathan's insistance that every strand could have been standing on end and it wouldn't have the slightest influence on her attractiveness. She'd laughed when he'd taken the comb from her hand five seconds after the statement, run it through his hair, and stashed it away inside his jacket with little apparent intention to surrender it again in the foreseeable future. Their individual vanities satisfied, they sat at the table for two with the matte black tablecloth without settling. There was no point to getting comfortable; the band was already striking up the first set and Heidi never stayed off her feet when the piano started that strong. Nathan caught her around the waist on her way to the dancefloor--she'd already abandoned her seat by the time he'd pushed out from beneath the table--and they scarecely made use of the table from that moment foward.
There was the usual pause for a drink and a moment of mercy for Nathan's feet; and one song spent in the company of an elderly gentleman who had propositioned her so politely for a dance that she announced her inability to refuse such a gentlemanly request. He had a vaudeville charm that Heidi liked, and had turned out to be shockingly spry. She caught Nathan laughing in the corner of her eye when he quite unexpectedly dipped her over his thin arm at the end of the number, and was treated to the full veiw of his amusement in the noticeable upward twitch at the corner of his mouth when she was escorted back to her husband's waiting hand.
When the thinning of couples became more and more apparent, a watch was finally consulted for the hour. Finding several more hours than expected had been lost (Enjoyable evenings have always been in the habit of snacking on minutes when noone is looking, and this one was no exception to the gluttonous consumption of time.), they quickly collected their coats and burst into the alleyway with an overdue haste, their conversation too loud in the 2AM air and ears too full of bassline to carry on at any other volume. Finally it was decided through a combination of Shushes and Gestures that the sky was the way home over trying to find a cab. Heidi popped their collars to keep any windchill at bay, and after a few kisses and furitive glances for other alley inhabitants, they took to the sky.
Two-thirds back to the hotel, Heidi gave Nathan's lapel a tug, and said loud enough to be heard over the wind. "Alright, Flying Man, take us down. We can walk the rest of the way."
Though he would have been perfectly happy to fly them the entire way back, Nathan wouldn't deny her even a short chance to stretch her legs, as it were. "Fair enough," he said, dropped a kiss to her jaw and then guided them toward the ground.
There was some risk involved in hoofing it after dark, but they were close enough to the areas surrounding the Hyperion that vampiric activity was scarce, if even at all present. She went up on her toes to kiss Nathan's cheek, though she didn't need to, and folded and smoothed his collar back down. Things had been going well between them, and she endeavored to let him know it in the little ways; two-minute backrubs while he worked, increasingly frequent invitations to spend the night in their room (This was also motivated by hightening tensions from the boys concerning Toby. While they were elated to have someone their age and level of enthusiasm for boyish antics, they were having trouble giving friendship the higher tier over Toby's status as Nathan's roommate.), and a myriad of other returns to the impromptu affections that has been in regular pratice in their marriage. She linked her arm through his, and kept it there until he removed it, trailing the back of his fingers down her wrist until they reached her palm. She caught them and held them, and they walked the next block with joined hands and her head on his shoulder.
"Turn around." The voice could have belonged to a police officer, but both of them were well enough aquainted with police procedure to know better. They looked over their shoulders, Heidi's hand prepared to go for the stake or bottle of holy watered-down perfume in her purse. The lack of wrinkled face wasn't a surprise, but the gun certainly was.
Both of them had lived in New York long enough to know what should, and shouldn't, be done during a mugging. With the training provided at the Hyperion, both of them were likely able to take on a single assailant, but what did they have that was worth taking the risk? Credit cards could be cancelled, cash could be replaced, cell phones were insured. They complied, and turned.
The face could have also belonged to a defender of the peace, if you took away a couple of years worth of drug use and an intimate meeting with the less practical end of a tire iron. Heidi was making note of his features, height, and weight as he demanded their valuables, and handed her purse over to Nathan who was already offering his wallet without complaint. His hand tightened around hers, and she squeezed a reassurance back. The man would take their belongings and go; they'd fly back to the Hyperion and inform Peter there was a mugger with a gun on the loose nearby. They'd kiss the boys and tiptoe around the room while they changed; struggle not to make too much noise as they snuck under the sheets and settled in to sleep for a few hours.
Maybe he was nervous. Maybe he was surprised that they had agreed so promptly to his demands. Maybe he never intended to stop at mugging. Heidi didn't have any more insight into his motivations than she did when she saw his finger tightening on the trigger. She wasn't even sure she saw what followed, just the playback of Nathan on her television screen in D.C. with two bullet holes in her chest and the boys crying every night when she sang them to sleep for a week.
She pulled her hand out of his. She needed both to shove him out of the way. It took less force than she had expected. The gun went off, and the remaining momentum kept her from throwing herself back in time. The sound of a body hitting the ground, panicked footsteps retreating. Heidi heard neither.
When your day-to-day dangers are constantly dominated by posessions, demons, Apocalypses, vampires, and Goblin Kings, even the most conscientious person can begin to forget about the normal evils. The casual threats; the ones where no one waxes poetic about blood or destroying the world, free from monolouges and devious plots that triple the sales for water filtration systems overnight.
You stop expecting the normal ways to die.