Ranting aside, I've always been intrigued by the pairing of Peter/Claire, even if it's not canon - there's just way too much chemistry between the two of them that screams for further exploration. So if Tim Kring won't do it, I guess it's up to us fanfiction writers. So enjoy my angsty little drabble, fellow Peter/Claire lovers.

Title: Unspoken Dance
Series: Heroes
Pairing: Claire/Peter
Spoilers: None, really.

*

Raindrops fall from everywhere
I reach out for you but you’re not there.
So I stood waiting in the dark
With your picture in my hands,
story of a broken heart…

…and I don’t want to know
What it’s like without you
So stay with me
– “Stay With Me” – Danity Kane

*

She knows it’s wrong, knows she shouldn’t feel this way. If she were a better person, she would tuck her feelings away, plaster the biggest, most insincere smile she can muster onto her face, and forget every single feeling she has for him.

Why? Because they’re not supposed to be together.

Because they’re not allowed to have each other.

Because she’s not supposed to want him.

Because he’s not supposed to want her, and all the other myriad reasons in the world that simply vanish when she sees him and her breath catches in her throat.

She doesn’t know if he feels the same way. Doesn’t know if he feels the same tortured longing, the same desire and love and hate all rolled into a tangled, complicated morass of emotion. He barely meets her eyes these days, and when he does speak to her, it’s in a perfunctory, clinical manner, as if she were merely a passing acquaintance instead of his niece or even the cheerleader he saved all those months ago.

She wishes he would look at her, talk to her, anything but the terrible, distant silence that sits between them. He must feel something for her, if he’s going to such lengths to avoid her, but she can’t ever get him alone long enough to inform him that his martyrdom is unwanted and unappreciated.

And so they continue their unspoken dance, pushing and pulling, but neither one willing to give in to the other.

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Title: Wake Up
Series: Grey’s Anatomy
Spoilers: Season 5 finale, “Now or Never”

*

Did you say it?
I love you.
I don’t ever want to live without you.
You changed my life.
Did you say it?
Make a plan.
Set a goal.
Work toward it.
But every now and then, look around.
Drink it in.’
Cause….this is it.
It might all be gone tomorrow.

–Meredith Grey, Grey’s Anatomy (Season 5, Episode 24 – “Now or Never”)

Notes: Spoilers for the Season 5 finale, don’t read if you haven’t seen the episode yet. I almost cried at that ending scene in the elevator and my muse demanded that I put my thoughts to paper (or Microsoft Word, as it were). I’m pretty George is the one who dies, although I’d rather it be Izzie. We’ll just have to wait and see what Shonda Rhimes has planned.

*

The scream of her heart monitor flatlining recedes into the background as Izzie carefully smoothes the fabric of her lavender prom dress and the elevator begins its journey up. She’s not sure where she’s going, but she knows it has to be better than what she’s leaving behind. That’s what she told Alex, isn’t it?“Just…if it comes down to it, just let me go.”

The elevator suddenly slows to a halt, the doors slide open, and Izzie is greeted by the last person she expected to be waiting on the other side for her. Her face breaks into a smile at the familiar face, but something keeps her from taking the necessary steps forward to get off the elevator.

Wake up, Stevens. Please. Wake up wake up wake up.

“Hey, Izzie.”

“George? Not that I’m not glad to see you, but…I don’t understand. I thought it’d be Denny,” Izzie breathes, taking in the sharp cut of his uniform, his handsome face, the calmness he radiates.

“I was hit by a bus,” he tells her ruefully. “I pushed a woman out of the way.”

“You’re a hero,” Izzie murmurs. Not like her. She’s crashing after a surgery to remove a brain tumor, nothing noble or glorious or even dignified about it at all. She knew, from the moment she heard her diagnosis, the hell she would have to go through to even fight to be part of that 5% survival rate and it had all been for nothing, in the end. She’s been living on borrowed time and now she’s run out.

“I’m a hero,” he agrees. “Wasn’t really what I had in mind when I said I wanted to make a difference, but I guess fate had other plans for me. And here we are.”

She’s not quite sure where “here” is but she moves to take a step towards him, still in the elevator. “George, I’m scared,” she admits.

“Don’t be,” he tells her gently. He reaches out to touch her face and she feels him brush away tears she didn’t even know she had been crying.

Wake up, Stevens. Come on, wake up!

“You’re going to be with me the whole way, right?” Izzie tries to smile at him. “I’ll be okay if you’re with me, I just don’t want to be alone, and god, I am so scared.” The words tumble out of her mouth, fear and relief and panic sliding them all together in a rushed gasp.

Slowly, he shakes his head. “You still have time, Izzie,” he whispers. “Time to make a life with Alex, have kids, be the brilliant surgeon I know you are and save so many more lives…time to grow old and do all the things I can’t anymore. You still have time.”

“George?”

“Go back, Izzie. They’re waiting for you.”

Panic seizes her. “No, not without you!” She tries to take those final steps across the threshold of the elevator, reaching for George, but she can’t, she can’t, and dimly she hears sobbing. Is it her or someone else? She can’t think, she can’t breathe, and all she wants is for George to come into the elevator with her.

Come on, Izzie. Come on.

“I love you, Iz. But you have to go back.”

“Come back with me then.” Izzie extends her hand out to him, but George shakes his head, regretfully.

“I can’t.”

“Don’t leave me,” she begs. “I need my George. Come with me.”

“I’m already lost, Iz,” he tells her, the ghost of a bittersweet smile gracing his face. “But you can still go back. I’ll watch after you, I promise.”

“George, please!” The doors slowly close and the last glimpse Izzie has of George, of her awkward, sweet, endearing best friend, is of him saluting her, calm and confident and at peace as he never was in life and then the elevator begins to move again but in the opposite direction.

And her eyes open in time for all her senses to come crashing back, a cacophony of noise and tears and confusion and pain, oh god the pain, slamming into her body.

Wake up.

*

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she merely tucks away the pain
and bears it with a tight, fleeting smile
because she has never let anyone
see past the mask
she is trapped in a bitter well
of her own making

she curses her own cowardice
and wants to rage and scream:
at her own stupidity, at him, at the other
but she can’t and she doesn’t

she just takes everything in silence -
and lets her heart break

Not quite sure where that came from. I’ve been finding it oddly cathartic to write these last two days, though. It helps relieve my stress. Sometimes I feel like I’m about to explode or I feel this panicky helpless emotion take over, and if I just let myself write, it soothes me.

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somewhere along the path, she has slipped
and she doesn’t know to find her way back.

she is shadow in a world of light
and she doesn’t know how to feel.
she wonders if she belongs
among all the smiling people

darkness whispers to her.
the gray beckons, the infinite night looms
but she knows she doesn’t belong there either

she reaches for the light
and it slips easily through her fingers.
she turns from the dark
repulsed by its taint.

where does she fit in?

Wow, I guess I am in a writing mood today. This one popped out in about ten minutes. Tell me what you think

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the days pass by like a hazy dream…fleeting, quick, and unremarkable

she drifts along in the ebb and tide of her life, simply allowing things to happen to her, never initiating an action of her own

she can hardly breathe sometimes, when she catches a glimpse of him – it’s too painful

and she wonders how and when she let herself fall so far and so hard

Just a little drabble I wrote this morning. I’ve had writer’s block for a while now, but I was suddenly inspired to write this; the words just flowed from my fingers. Maybe I’ll be able to develop a story around it, who knows.

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