Fic: 'Dial Tone' (Heroes, gen, G, 1/1) Title: Dial Tone Fandom: Heroes Characters: Nathan Petrelli Word Count: 531 Rating: G Spoilers: I want to say 1x07, 'Nothing to Hide' Challenge: Leap for Prompts (27/29): Heroes, Nathan/Niki Disclaimer: No one mentioned belongs to me. Summary: Nathan keeps trying to call Niki and can't figure out why.
Dial Tone
Dial tone. Redial: beep be— Click.
Nathan hung up before the call could finish dialing. It was the twenty-first century, after all, and she probably had caller ID. She would know he called, she might even call him back. The conversation would happen one way or another, sooner or later. It was unavoidable. But he hung up anyway.
Lost in thought, he licked his lips, which tasted like envelope glue where he'd kissed Heidi. She'd been monopolizing the dining room all day, stuffing envelopes. An old school approach to politics, Peter had suggested, and since she'd wanted to help, Nathan had let her.
He remembered a moment, once upon a time, when his brother's particular brand of naivety and idealism had been infectious. Then suddenly, Peter was either one of the X-Men, or losing his mind. Nathan honestly couldn't decide which was worse. He had to cope with enough family issues, and madness was difficult to conceal, harder to rise above. Nathan could probably turn it around, put some delicate political spin on it to make him come out a hero, but there was only so much a man could suffer through and overcome. The voters would start to think he was making it up. Family values was one of the main tenants of his platform, after all, and it was beginning to look like he was really pushing it.
Politics wasn't about values and making a difference. At least, not the beginning stages. It was about money, and more money, and being bought and sold, and obfuscation. Sometimes, he was really tired of it.
Dial tone. Redial: beep beep beep be— Click.
He made it halfway through the dialing process before hanging up. He couldn't think of what to say if she answered, and his uncertainty embarrassed him. He hadn't been shy around girls since he was thirteen.
Even if he didn't help her —and what could he do, anyway?— he should at least apologize. She deserved that much. He'd used her. Maybe he was in the pocket of several people, but he wasn't exactly a bad guy. A bad guy would accept Linderman's offerings and be done without, no looking back, not even bothering to remember the name of the beautiful woman he'd fallen asleep next to. But Nathan still felt remorse, both inklings and waterfalls, for the crappy stuff he'd done over the years in the goal of political achievement. The trick was pushing it away, so the guilt didn't eat you alive. The trick was remembering, and hopefully using one's accomplishments to right old wrongs. In a covert way, of course, that didn't result in getting kicked out of office. He couldn't do anyone any good if he had no power.
This was what he told himself.
But it was hard to keep her face out of his head, harder still to hear the quiet desperation in her voice, as she asked for his help. If she could swallow her pride long enough to recognize she needed assistance from the person she thought least likely to give it, then maybe he could swallow his own and prove her wrong. He kept saying he wanted to do good, and now he had to decide if he actually could. If he would.