Heroes Fan Fiction: A Capable Woman 2/28 Angela/Arthur, Birth of Nathan

The Wedding Reception of

Angela & Arthur Petrelli

"And I present to you, for the first time, Mr. and Mrs. Arthur Petrelli," announced the bandleader as Angela and Arthur joined hands toward the dance floor.

The Petrelli family had set up a large lavish gathering outside, among the trees and flowers, in their own personal backyard - very exclusive and very private.

Looking like a regal couple Arthur led his bride slowly around the makeshift dance floor. He grinned like a born king; cocky with a sense of something he truthfully had no idea about. His friends hooted and hollered off in the distance, like the boys and not men they were; much like Arthur himself. Angela had a cool calm look in her eyes. She knew this was a pivotal time in her life, she had no idea why, she just felt it should be. Angela was growing up a small percentage point at a time. This was a step.

Together they were a handsome couple. Many would remark on that.

"Arthur…," Angela whispered, her eyes looking off at the people around her. She was very serious. She looked like snow white, pale skin, red lips, dark hair. She looked like the china doll, Arthur saw her as. The perfect wife for a Petrelli man. He had done well. Many would say Arthur was a lucky man.

"Ang, I see my Aunt Pearl, do me a favor – you see her coming – make some excuse for us –"

"Arthur…."

"Yeah?" He wasn’t looking at her.

"What if we didn’t have children right away?" She finally caught his eyes and Arthur saw something different in them.

Arthur looked at her funny."I thought you wanted to have kids?"

"I do. I do. You know I do. But, what if we waited…"

"Why?" he pressed in confusion.

"Not for long –we could travel…"

"I told ya, Angie, we’re gonna do that. Paris, France, Italy…"

"Paris is in France..." she said crossly.

"You know what I mean…" he was agitated.. "Where is this coming from?"

"I could finish my education…"

"Angie. …you’re my wife. I thought – I thought this was all figured out – no no," he gritted his teeth. "We are not having this conversation, right here – not in front of everybody-- not in front of all our family and friends…I thought this was figured out, Angela." He put on his fake smile.

"You said you loved the fact that I wanted an education – that I wanted to be more than just a wife and a mother."

Arthur’s voice was now a low raspy whisper. "That was before you agreed to marry me, Angie… you made your choice." He felt her trying to leave and he held her in place. "You want to be a dried up old career woman, be my guest you have ever right– but you agreed to be my wife, NOW – I thought that was understood when you agreed to marry me…" Arthur was only spouting the talk of the times. He didn’t know any better. He only knew he wanted the life he saw around him. He wanted that idea. But it was only an idea.

The music ended. Angela gave Arthur one of her stern looks and she walked away from him with long strides, her passion so vivid it seemed to waft behind her like a smoke trail.

Arthur put on his best fake smile for the crowd, it was all about appearances, and made a beeline after her.

He caught her as she hit the house entering the back door of the kitchen where the wait staff was preparing dinner for the wedding guests. It was a sea of noise, jarring to the senses. People yelling, men dressed in white and black, the sounds of plates and silverware clanging and hitting each other. The heat from the ovens was so overcoming it was like walking into a blanket of fire. The shock burned the eyes and bombarded the senses. Angela had to turn her head away and as she did a large flame of fire burst up into Angela’s view catching her off guard. She screamed and held in her breath. It was only a man setting fire to a dessert . She took her hand to her chest in fright. She could hear her heart beat through her white dress.

"Come here!" Arthur grabbed her by the arm and pulled her into a broom closet and shut the door.

The closet was just small enough for the both of them. It was musty, cluttered and darkly lit. The only light came from the sun beating down through a high window behind Arthur’s head, dripping him in a yellow hue.

"You can’t do this! You can’t go back on our agreement," he told her intensely.

"Agreement, what such agreement– we never had--" Her voice was shrill and pointed.

"This is what a woman does now. She chooses Yes, she has a choice, but she chooses. Angela! You can’t have it both ways. "

Angela tried to interrupt, but he kept on going.

"I don’t understand.. I…When you agreed to marry me…I thought you made your choice… I want a wife, Angela. What I’m looking for is a wife – you know that. Just like my father had and his father before him – I’m not… I’m not built for this world." He took a breath. " I want you – I want you to be happy I want..." He paused for a moment. "Don’t I make you happy? Aren’t I enough?" He truly meant his last remark and it was as if asking it wounded him.

"I can’t believe you would ask me such a question," she furrowed her brow.

Arthur took a moment, not saying anything, holding in his anger. He finally spoke. "You want the world don’t you?"

"I think I deserve it," she demanded.

He took a deep breath. Suddenly a large Petrelli grin ran over his face. "Then I’m gonna give it to you on a god damn silver platter."

She set her hands on his face and kissed him.

"Wait, wait. You have to meet me half way, Angie." He lightly took her wrists.

"I will," she beamed.

"I’m not a man of 1965, you know that –you have to give me time— you have to bear with me.…"

"I know…"

"I need a wife…"

Angela nodded her head.

"Okay…" He nodded his head.

Angela ran her hands around his waist, her head to his chest and he kissed the top of her head. "You want the world. I’ll give it to you." It was just another promise he could never keep.

~

That night Angela and Arthur danced to Stevie Wonder’s Hey Love, alone in their honeymoon suite, her head on his chest, his hand holding hers, slow and close. And that night, with her laying on his chest, her hand in his, her hair hitting his face, Arthur leaned into his young bride’s ear and whispered. "On a silver platter, baby. On a sliver platter."

  Arthur Petrelli

Screaming. First there was nothing, but screaming.

"What’s wrong, what’s going on?!" Arthur Petrelli demanded. He could hear his wife screaming all the way into the waiting room as the doors to the maternity ward flapped open and shut behind him.

"It’s best that you stay where you are, stay in the waiting room, Mr. Petrelli."

The nurse tried, but it was hard to hold him back.

Arthur’s emotions had the better of him. "What’s going on? Something’s wrong?!"

"Please, Mr. Petrelli. You need to stay here." And the nurse ran back into the restricted area.

Arthur Petrelli felt something he had never felt in his life: helplessness.

It was 1968 and men didn’t go into the delivery room with their wives. They sat in the waiting room or at the bar across the street, smoking cigars and drinking gin and tonics. But Arthur was frightened for his young wife and child. Drinking and smoking were the furthest from his mind. Arthur, not an emotional man, found tears almost come to his eyes. But being the military man he was, being a man of his generation, he held them in.

Left alone in the hallway for the first time Arthur felt fear. Something he felt wasn’t right for a man to feel, but he felt it. He was fearful for his family and it’s future. For his wife; for Angela. She was so young, what had he done to her? He had promised her the world and it just hadn’t worked out that way. Life had just gotten a hold of them and promises were never kept. Arthur was feeling that famous Petrelli guilt. It would not be the last time he would feel that way. It was the first time Arthur Petrelli felt paternal. And the first time he had that wish: That he could change the world for his child – that he could protect him from it.

All he could do was wait, worried and anxious for the birth of what Angela told him would be the first of two sons. He told her she couldn’t know the future so distinctly and now he wished he did. He wished he knew his son’s fate. If only to ease his mind.

 Angela & Nathan Petrelli

She had never felt such pain in her life, if she only knew it would be nothing compared to the pain of losing a son, but today she was gaining one, her first. After two miscarriages, Angela Petrelli had finally carried a child to term.

Clammy, sweating, screaming, crying, Angela wasn’t doing so well, she was panicky which wasn’t good for her or the baby. She couldn’t do it anymore and she wanted to give up. Five hours of labor and she was alone, no husband to protect her.

The nurse and doctors were a flurry of activity, Angela knew something was wrong and it made her more and more agitated. The more she was told to calm down, the more her blood pressure rose. It wasn’t good.

She was young, scared and no one was there to hold her hand. It was her first lesson in relying on herself. She screamed and hollered, gritted her teeth. Sweat poured off her face and she started to sob. It was messy and unbecoming and she couldn’t handle it.

The next thing Angela knew she felt the prick of a needle in her arm. Her body felt weightless and she seemed to float away. The feeling was nothing new to her. Her eyes slowly fluttered and darkness covered her lids. And then Nathan was born.

 ~

In the waiting room Arthur sat in a chair, his head lowered, his hands held together in front of him, when he heard his name called to him. He lifted his head and the doctor motioned Arthur over to him. Arthur knew something was wrong. The doctor told him and walked away.

"She was wrong..." Arthur took a step back and put his hand over his mouth, he shook his head in shock. "She was wrong…" He looked pale and spent. In the future, his son would utter a similar phrase after the death of his brother.

 Arthur & Angela Petrelli

"I don’t understand?" Angela questioned her doctor. She still felt achy and fatigued. Her entire body felt different and not her own.

Arthur held her hand, he already knew. "Angela, you need to listen to the man, you need to focus," he told her.

"There was a complication-- we saved your baby’s life, your life." The doctor spoke with great concern.

"I don’t understand..." She was in a state of shock.

Angela pulled away from Arthur. Arthur tried to take her hand again, but she hit it away.

"You won’t be able to carry another child, Mrs. Petrelli…" The doctor tried to be as tactful as possible under the circumstances. " I am sorry..."

"No..." Her voice cracked and she wouldn’t believe it. "It’s not true."

Arthur tried to console her. "Angie."

"No, no." She was getting more and more upset " That’s not how it’s suppose to be. No, I ...I’m…" her emotional level was rising and rising.

"Angela!" Arthur reprimanded her like a small child.

"No!!!" Her head started to shake as the tears came. "Oh god, no, no, noooo." Her stomach felt that hollow feeling. She became manic almost crazy. Her breathing become out of control, her head was dizzy, she couldn’t feel her fingers.

"Sedate her!" yelled the doctor.

Angela felt her body lifeless and heavy and her eyes closed, her surrounding disappearing into nothingness, just as she felt. Angela Petrelli could have no more childrenThe Present

Angela, Peter, Nathan & Claire

In the present, Peter pulled away from his mother’s hand, being shocked back into reality, he could feel her pain and it was overwhelming.

Nathan looked on in a daze, unsure what was happening.

Angela had warned them that they had better to ready to except the truth when they took hands, and with Peter’s power she would show them her story.

"Peter!" Angela yelled as she watched her son back away from her, breathing hard through his nose.

"Ma, what’s going on?" Nathan was spooked. "Ma!" he demanded. "What’s happening to him?!"

Claire stood back, unsure what to do. It was all happening so fast.

Angela took hold of Peter’s head stroking the side of his face. "Peter, Peter..." she tried to get his attention. " Peter, you need to breath - breath. You’re feeling my emotions, my pain, it’s not yours, just let it go– let it go– breath, breath. Breath it out."

"Ma, what is he doing?!" Nathan was worried.

"It’s his core ability, empathy, it’s kicking in, he’s keying into my emotions..." she never took her eyes off Peter. "Do you understand Peter? These aren’t your emotions, they’re mine ---just let them go..."

Peter started to breath steadier.

"There it is, there it is." Angela smiled. "You’re just feeling what I felt, do you understand? When they told me I couldn’t have another child --it was like they were killing you–I had seen you so many times in my dreams, it was like… I already knew you–" She smiled, as tears started to well in her eyes. "Just let it go…" She stroked the side of his head.

Peter’s breathing started to slow down.

"Nathan, get him a glass of water..." Angela said forcefully.

"I can do it," Claire spoke up.

"I’m fine," Peter grunted. "I’m fine," he said slowly. He didn’t want to be coddled.

"Ma, I don’t understand, whatdoya mean you couldn’t have children after me?" Nathan demanded. "That doesn’t make sense."

"We almost lost you, they had to save your life... they had no choice"

"But, I was there, Ma! I was there when Peter was born, I saw–I was— I know he’s yours..." He gestured toward her with his hand.

"If you couldn’t have another child after Nathan, then—" Peter could finally speak with out breathing heavily.

"That was before..." She took a deep breath her emotions coming to the surface.

"Before?" Peter asked.

"Before you met Linderman." Nathan got it, yet was still in shock as he said it out loud. It was his "aha" moment.

Angela and Nathan looked at each other. Angela’s eyes filled with tears and she nodded her head yes. Peter looked at Nathan with a look of surprise. And they all soon joined hands again. 

Petrelli & Linderman 
1977

"Are you sure this is what you want?" Linderman asked her in his Kirby Plaza office.

"Yes," she said with tears in her eyes. "It’s all I’ve ever wanted." She sucked in her emotions. "I want another child."

"Peter?"

"Yes…"

"Give me your hands, Angela," He put his hands out for Angela. "Don’t be scared. It won’t hurt a bit." He smiled. "I promise."

Angela took a breath and slowly offered up her hands to Linderman. They both closed their eyes.

Adam watched, hidden behind a half open door as if in a Shakespeare play. He was laying traps, traps for Petrellis. He knew what was most important to Angela and with Linderman they would use it to win her over, to bring her to their side. He would save his blood for more showy affairs of life and death.

"That’s it?" Angela asked.

"That’s it." Linderman said sweetly.

"I don’t know how– some day I will thank you for this."

"Oh..." He smiled. "You’ll find a way…"

Adam smirked behind the half open door. Linderman knew Adam was there.

"All you have to do Angela..." Linderman paused. "Is believe..."

Adam appeared from behind the door. Linderman looked at Adam as did Angela. She was shocked to see him, yet not surprised. He was the one who had sent her to see Linderman.

"Can you believe, Angela?" Adam asked her. "Can you really believe?" And Adam took her hand.

And she did. Angela Petrelli believed in Adam, because she was looking for something to believe in. She so desperately wanted something to believe in, as desperately as she wanted her second child, and Adam knew that. It was here that Adam Monroe learned how to trap a Petrelli, by using what was dear to them: their family.

And as Angela looked up at the man who had helped her, taught her to wield her power, she didn’t just see a man, or a leader, a teacher and her savior, but something much much more. Angela Petrelli was desperate for hope and with wide open eyes, Angela looked up at Adam Monroe, not as a man, but as something he had always wanted to be: a god. And it was something Adam Monroe liked very much.

And soon Adam would divide and conquer his friends, deeming who was special enough, who he needed enough and who was easy to ply toward his side, his own agenda. For Adam Monroe knew the only way to take away their power was to split them apart. Split apart what he had brought together and turn whatever followers he could into his disciples. That was why he chose them, that was why he chose Angela. That was how in the end, Adam Monroe lost, but won –by weakening the foundation.


                                                                       The Present

 
1967

Nathan & Angela Petrelli

                                                                        Manhattan

 "Knock, Knock…" The nurse not only knocked on the door but spoke the words at the same time. She was trying to be cheery, she was just irritating as hell, Angela thought.

From her bed, Angela glanced over at the nurse in her doorway. But only for a moment, before rolling herself back toward the window, looking out with a glazed over look in her eyes. She felt like a hard rock, heavy and filled with nothing of note or purpose. Angela felt like everything she had known to be true didn’t exist – nothing felt right. It was like she didn’t know her left from her right. She had nothing to believe in anymore.

The nurse had Nathan in one of those little hospital cribs with clear plastic sides to it. "I brought the baby …" The Nurse wheeled Nathan toward the other side of the bed, but Angela wouldn’t look at him. "Gift from god…" The nurse said with her saccharin smile.

"What?" Angela asked in her groggy voice.

"Nathan – it means gift from god. I assumed you knew. Why you named him…?"

"Does it…" Angela’s voice trailed off. "Maybe that’s why…" She didn’t seem interested, or maybe it just reminded her of her dreams and how they weren’t anything at all, they were just dreams.

Then Nathan cried and it hit something in Angela’s soul. She cocked her head toward the baby and the emotion hit her. Here was her child. Here was her son.

The nurse saw it. "Do you want to hold him?"

"Yes…" Angela pulled herself up in bed, she was still sore and it was hard for her to move. "I.. I don’t know what to do," she confessed.

The nurse instructed Angela on how to hold him before she placed young Nathan in her arms.

"He’s so small, " Angela laughed. Nathan took her finger and she smiled and cried out. She was in love. There was no turning back.

"I’ll just leave you two alone for a moment." The nurse left the room.

Angela looked at Nathan, scared and unsure. "I’m too young for this, " she whispered to him. "I guess maybe we both are," she joked. Angela took a breath. She leaned in and kissed the top of Nathan’s forehead. "I’m still going to do my best," she leaned her forehead to little Nathan’s head. "I hope you can forgive me." She knew she would love him forever, and help him until there was nothing more she could do about it.

She would soon learn that cutting out her heart would be the only way she could save him. But, at the moment she hoped he would save her - he was her boy.Nathan, Arthur and Angela PetrelliManhattan

A Few Months Later

 Angela and Arthur had a lovely home in the East 70s, near Central Park. Some called it a mansion, the Petrellis just called it home.

Angela followed her husband into the foyer. "What do you mean – this can’t be – they can’t just call you away – you can’t go…" Angela’s heals clipped across the marble black and white floor. She held Nathan on her hip.

"I don’t have a choice in the matter, Angela."

"You have a son," she stressed.

Nathan cried and Angela tried to calm him.

Arthur was not happy with Angela’s behavior."I enlisted and they’re calling my number. I’m going. I have to serve my country, Angela. I want to serve my country."

"You can’t leave me. You can’t just leave me – us alone!"

He looked at her with stern eyes, "I wish I didn’t have to." He set his duffle bag next to the door. "It’s just my time. I have to play my part, my role. "

"I don’t know why you had to enlist? You didn’t have to." She shifted her weight from one leg to another, one of her quirks, one Arthur knew well. "You had to be a man. You had to prove yourself!"

"It’s what a man does, Angela. A man fights for his country and his family. That’s what I’m doing. I’m going," he demanded.

"I don’t want to lose you!" Angela blurted out.

Arthur seemed agitated as if talking to a child, for she was, "Sometimes we all have to make sacrifices for a larger picture– the few for the many, Angela. That’s war. "

"Well, I don’t... I don’t want to be at war." She tossed her head.

"Well, " he grunted, "No one said you had a choice." He took a deep breath through his nose, holding in his anger. "I think I still have some things up stairs."

And he left Angela alone with her tears. Angela held them in. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry. It would not be the last time she would have that thought run through her head.

 The Petrellis

Manhattan

"I’ll be back, I promise you," he assured her.

"Yes well…" Angela adjusted his lapel. "If only this time I trusted your promises." She set her hand on his chest.

"Don’t let this be our last---"

And she kissed him hard, her eyes full of tears. "I have every right to be angry with you…"

He nodded his head.

Angela held her son tight on her hip and close to her chest. "Just come back to me…and don’t make me promises anymore – unless you plan to keep them."

Arthur kissed his son on his forehead. He lingered there for a moment as if hoping the moment would never end. And then he had to leave.

Angela watched him walk away and had only one thought in her head: she was too young to be widow.

Next Chapter: Angela must deal with rasing a son alone, with a husband at war. And the Petrelli’s meet Daniel Linderman. (Click Here)