Title: Falling Away With You
By: _usakeh_
Fandom: Heroes/Torchwood
Pairing: Peter/Jack
Rating: PG-13
Author’s Note: This was written as a gift for taffimai.

Peter Petrelli slammed the door behind him and stepped out into the pouring rain. He didn’t have an umbrella with him. In the dream, after all, he hadn’t had one either. He had to follow the images that came to him at night as if they were maps. He had to recreate every single detail; only then would he arrive at the right destination.

This time, the right destination would yield a still more complete map to the future. He’d be meeting a man who’d been there. It wasn’t Hiro Nakamura; of that Peter was certain. Moreover, he knew exactly what the man looked like: brown hair, blue eyes, and a smile as stunning as Claude’s laugh had been frightening in his last dream.

Peter brushed his wet hair out of his eyes and hurried forwards. The man would appear in the center of Columbus Circle; then it was up to him to make the first move.

He looked around, readying himself for what was to come. He watched wave after wave of his fellow New Yorkers surge out of the subway station, their umbrellas opening like hundreds of flower blooming in unison. He focused on the flash of lighting and the thunder that followed it; the pure power sent chills running up and down his spine. And then he saw him – the man at the center of the circle – and his heart started racing. This happened every time one of his dreams came to fruition. He’d be so simultaneously thrilled and terrified that he’d have to dig his nails into the palm of his hands to remind himself that it was indeed real.

While doing just this, Peter Petrelli walked into the center of Columbus Circle, approached the man, and firmly tapped him on the shoulder.

“Hello,” Peter said. “I have no idea who you are, but I know that you’ve got to come with me, and that we’ve got to talk.”

“That’s a new one,” the man responded, grinning. “I haven’t heard that pickup line before.”

“I’m serious.” Peter took a deep breath. He had to stay calm; he couldn’t let this spiral out of control. “You have to come with me.”

“You sure seem serious.” The man then extended his hand. “I’m Captain Jack Harkness, by the way.”

“Peter Petrelli.” Peter took Jack’s hand. “I’m sorry about this, but you’ll just have to believe me. We have to get into this building and walk up to an abandoned apartment. We’re going to find something there. You have to tell me something very important about it; I just don’t know what that is.” Jack raised an eyebrow in response.

“Why me?” Jack asked. “What kind of information are you looking for?”

“Why you?” Peter paused. How much could he say? How should he say it? The dreams never answered those questions; it was as if they dumped him in the middle of the ocean and expected him to find the shore. “You come from the future and you have something I need to know. That’s all I can tell you.”

“How’d you figure that out?” Jack inquired, drawing closer to Peter.

“I dreamt it.” Peter looked Jack right in the eye. “My dreams tell me where to start. And I’m supposed to start with you. Do you think you can help me?”

“Maybe,” Jack replied.

“Are you willing to try?” Peter asked.

“Yes.”

“Then follow me.”

Jack did.


“Wow,” Peter mumbled when they reached the abandoned apartment, “it’s cold in here.”

“Sure is.” Jack shrugged off his heavy trench coat; it was dripping wet. “Couldn’t your dreams have taken you to a warmer place?”

“No.” Peter took off his jacket and laid it beside Jack’s. “It’s here. It has to be here. Do you know why?”

“No. But if I had to take a wild guess, I’d say it might have to do with the file you’ve got there,” Jack said, pointing at what appeared to be a black suitcase.

“A file?” Peter walked over to the object and scrutinized it. “In this?”

“Of course,” Jack said. “You see a black suitcase, right?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s an illusion. There’s a single file there.”

“How do you–” Peter stopped himself halfway through. It didn’t matter how Jack knew; all that mattered was that he did, and that he’d be able to extract information from the file. That’s what they’d been brought there to do. “Can you open it?” Peter asked at last.

“Sure.” Jack grinned. “I’ve been hacking into these things since I was a little kid. Easy as anything,” he added. Then he placed both hands on the suitcase and pressed down on it – almost pressed down through it, really – and closed his eyes. Just when Peter had thought he’d be done being surprised by Jack, he started speaking again in a tone entirely unlike the casual one he’d previously adopted. “Speak to me of cities,” Jack said in a strange monotone. “Speak to me of cities of shining light. Lead me down past the rivers and the oceans; take me to the place where all the roads converge.”

“Jack?” The other man’s expression was frighteningly blank; it was almost as if the file, whatever it was, had sucked out his soul. “Jack? What’s going on?” Peter moved towards Jack; then he just took him by the shoulders and shook him. But it did nothing to take him out of the trance into which he’d entered. Finally, after repeating the message three times, Jack shuddered and returned to reality.

“Did you get it?” Jack asked. His whole body was shaking. “Did you hear the message?”

“I heard–” Peter stopped abruptly as Jack fell to the floor. “Jack!” Peter cried out, reaching out and placing a hand on the other man’s shoulder. “Jack! Are you all right?” Jack didn’t move. Why, Peter wondered, did he always lead people to danger? And why didn’t he have the ability to heal others? He’d do anything for that. Anything. “Please, Jack,” Peter said, sitting down beside the other man, “please wake up! Please.” Peter moved closer and scrutinized Jack’s prone body. Was he even breathing? Trembling, Peter moved his hand down from Jack’s shoulder to his chest and felt for a heartbeat.

It was gone.


Peter felt frozen in place. He couldn’t speak; he couldn’t move. He’d found Jack, just as his dream had instructed him to do. He’d brought Jack to the right apartment. And then he’d killed him. He might as well have done it with his own hands. Peter shuddered. He’d only just met Jack, but seeing the other man dead made him want to simply crumple up into a corner and disappear.

“I’m sorry,” Peter whispered. “I’m sorry I brought you here. I’m sorry that I made you open that file.” Peter hid his face in his hands. “Why?” Why had his dreams led him to kill an innocent man? Had he somehow misinterpreted them? What had he done wrong? “Why did this happen?” Peter asked the empty room again. “Why did–”

“Why did what happen?” Jack’s voice paralyzed Peter once more. First his dreams had betrayed him; now his mind was playing tricks on him. It was all too much.” Peter?” Jack’s voice prompted.

“You can’t have come back to life,” Peter mumbled, refusing to lift his face out of his hands. “You can’t possibly be real.”

“How’s this any stranger than being able to fly?” Jack reached out and placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder; then he began to cough. “Peter,” Jack rasped, “you’ve got to get me some water. Otherwise that virus is going to kill me again.” Peter didn’t move. “Peter!” Jack exclaimed. “Now!”

“Okay.” The voice might be a hallucination; the man might not really be there at all. But if there was any chance that he could help – any chance at all that he could help fix what he’d broken – he’d do it. “I’ll be right back,” Peter added, getting to his feet and rushing into the empty apartment’s bathroom. There was an empty glass by the sink; Peter opened the tap and filled it to the top.

“Water?” Jack gasped as Peter ran back into the room.

“Here,” Peter responded, still unable to look the other man in the eye. What if it wasn’t really him? He’d only just met the man; somehow, however, he couldn’t even bear to contemplate the possibility that it might be a mirage.

“Thanks, kid,” Jack said in between gulps. “That was real helpful.”

“It was?” At last, Peter forced himself to fully scrutinize the other man. He was Jack. He had to be. “Are you okay?” Peter added.

“Yeah.” Jack brushed a bead off sweat off of his forehead. “I’m fine. In case you hadn’t already noticed, I don’t stay dead for long.”

“Me neither,” Peter said. “Most of the time, anyway.”

“We’re quite the pair.” Jack stopped and raised a hand to his mouth; then he began coughing once more. “Unfortunately,” he still managed to say, “we also have a slight problem on our hands.”


“Everything?” Peter asked. “It would turn off everything?” He immediately thought about the many machines he’d seen keep people alive during their last days. “Life support machines? Trains? Airplanes?”

“Everything,” Jack replied. “The thing’s tricky as all hell. It’s so well disguised that even I thought it was a file, and I’ve seen this sort of thing thousands of times before.” Jack paused and looked down at what still appeared to be a black suitcase. “We’ve got to destroy it. Soon.”

“How soon?” Peter inquired. He’d exploded miles above New York City; he’d stopped a virus from infecting the world. But he still felt like he was out of his depth here. “Is it here from the fifty-first century?”

“How’d you guess?”

“Because you’re from the fifty-first century. Aren’t you?” Peter didn’t know how he knew it; he simply did. Lately he’d been absorbing knowledge from others. He didn’t even have to consciously choose to read their minds. It just happened, all on its own.

“Yup,” Jack replied. “But why don’t we chat about that later? We’ve got five minutes before this thing disables all the technology you guys have got. And I for one do not want to see that happen.”

“How do we destroy it, then?”

“You don’t happen to have any nuclear material around here, do you?” Jack asked half-jokingly.

“Actually,” Peter responded, “I do.” Peter closed his eyes and let the anger he associated with Ted’s power well up within him. Within seconds he knew that his hands were glowing. “How’s that?” Peter managed to ask.

“Perfect,” Jack replied without missing a beat. Peter wondered whether anything could really rattle the man. Probably not. “I’m going to need you to pick up the file now, okay? As soon as you do so, blast it to bits. Do it immediately. Got it?”

“Got it.” Peter prepared himself. “I’d stand back, if I were you, unless you want to die again.”

“I’ll skip it.” Peter heard footsteps; Jack was moving away. “Ready?” Jack prompted.

“Absolutely,” Peter said. Then, with no further ado, he grabbed the black suitcase – which didn’t feel like a suitcase at all, once he touched it – and focused all the white heat burning up inside him onto it. When Peter opened his eyes again, nothing was left of it but a little pile of dust.


“Nice work,” Jack said. “You’re quite something, Mr. Petrelli.”

“I could say the same of you.” Peter brushed his bangs out of his eyes and studied Jack’s face. He couldn’t have looked calmer or more confident; still, there was something sad in the way he gazed at Peter. Peter let himself reach out towards Jack; immediately, he felt an immense sense of solitude wash though him. So that’s what the shadow lurking behind Jack’s eyes was: loneliness. “Could you get back?”

“What do you mean?” Jack asked.

“Could you get back to the fifty-first century? If you wanted to, that is. Or are you stuck here?”

“The handy little device that brought me here is broken.” Jack held up one hand and pointed to what looked like an oversized watch with the other. “So, no. I can’t get back. As you said, I’m stuck here.”

“I hope that this isn’t always such a bad place to be.” Peter let the aching loneliness fill him completely; then he tried to combat it with all the energy he had left. He’d yet to understand exactly how to share his emotions with others, but maybe – just maybe – this would work.

Not always. The other man didn’t open his mouth, but his voice came across far more clearly than it had when he’d been speaking aloud. I’ve met some pretty remarkable people here.

Are you talking about people like me?

Wow, Jack commented. I guess you really are one of those natural telepaths they used to tell me about in genetics class. I’ve never met one before. I used to think that they didn’t even exist. But I felt you in my mind, so I figured I might as well give it a shot. I’m glad that I did.

Glad? That’s good. I was going to apologize for having intruded.

No need for that, Jack replied. I rather like having handsome young men come inside me.

Oh. Peter tried to banish the image from his mind, but it was too late; he was pretty sure Jack had already seen it. Sorry about that, he added, blushing.

No need to apologize for that either. Jack came closer; as he did so, his mental tone became softer and more intimate. It's just spared me the effort of trying to come up with a good pickup line.

Somehow I don’t think you’d find that too difficult, Peter responded, grinning.

You might be right about that, Jack said, leaning in towards Peter, but I find this even easier.

When they kissed, Peter projected as much warmth as he could into the connection between them. Jack received and returned the emotion, filling Peter with the most intoxicatingly potent feeling of pure joy he’d ever experienced. Then, suddenly, he felt a song start within him. It took a moment for him to realize that Jack was simply singing to him through their link. He didn’t understand the language. But it didn’t take him long to figure out exactly what it meant.