Stage: Freaks
Jul. 22nd, 2009 06:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
spongetastic“There's a quality of legend about freaks. Like a person in a fairy tale who stops you and demands that you answer a riddle.” - Diane Arbus
He sat on the edge of his bed, cradling the fragment of glass carefully in his hand. Blood stained it, measuring out how far it embedded into his skull. It was still unbelievable to think that this object killed him. Here he sat alive and well when only moments ago he was breathless, his eyes glazed over. If Claire and Nathan hadn’t told him it happened he still wouldn’t believe it.
“Hey.” He glanced up and saw Claire hovering in the doorway. “Can I come in?”
“Sure.” He graciously shifted to make room for her on his bed. She entered and took a seat beside him. They exchanged silent smiles with one another. After saving each other’s lives, their bond had grown even stronger. Peter mutely held out the shard of glass for her inspection. The girl took it from him, rolling it over in her own hand before offering it back.
“I still can’t believe it,” Peter said.
“I know,” Claire agreed. “I died once, you know.”
“I think I remember you telling me,” Peter nodded. It was one of the first conversations he had with the cheerleader. “You said it was no big deal. Now I understand why: I didn’t even feel like I died. All I remember is a sharp pain, and the next minute I’m waking up with you and Nathan beside me.”
“At least you didn’t wake up in a morgue with your body cut open,” Claire said with a faint attempt at smiling. Peter said nothing, turning his attention back to the shard of glass. “It’s just so unreal, isn’t it?” His eyes flickered back up to the girl’s face. His niece. He was still adjusting to that bit of news.
“Yeah, it is,” he agreed. “Sort of like a fairy tale.”
“What?”
“You know. Like in Snow White. She was dead, but then the prince came and broke the spell.” Peter felt a little silly mentioning that, and Claire must have thought so too because she let out a sudden burst of laughter.
"Snow White?" she echoed. "So are you the prince or Snow White in that analogy?"
"A little of both." He grinned at her. "You did save my life, after all."
"All I did was pull a shard of glass from your head," Claire answered awkwardly. "Nothing that heroic, really."
"Then it's like the Sword in the Stone," Peter insisted. She gave him a look, and he knew he was grasping at straws here. "All I'm saying is that it was pretty fantastic, what you did. What we've both done." He held up the shard of glass to the light. "If we can conquer death, then maybe we can find a way to stop me from exploding."
"You shouldn't be exploding at all," Claire told him with a heavy sigh. "Normal people don't blow up, or come back from the dead. We're freaks." Peter frowned a little; he wasn't sure how to answer that. He understood where she was coming from, though. He was sure that if this happened to him when he was a teenager he'd be feeling the same way.
"Maybe," he conceded, "but the freaks are the ones who get all the good stories."
"What?" Claire raised a questioning eyebrow.
"Just think about it. The main characters in fairy tales are mostly freaks: people under enchantments, or who do weird things. And their stories always have happy endings." Claire bit her lip, looking like she was trying hard not to laugh at him. "Freaks can change the world, Claire," Peter insisted. "I don't think it's anything to be ashamed of."
"Wish I could feel the same way," the girl sighed. They fell silent for a moment. Peter stared at the shard of glass in his hand thoughtfully.
"Claire." She turned her gaze on him expectantly. "You may be a freak, but guess what: so am I. You're not alone."
He sat on the edge of his bed, cradling the fragment of glass carefully in his hand. Blood stained it, measuring out how far it embedded into his skull. It was still unbelievable to think that this object killed him. Here he sat alive and well when only moments ago he was breathless, his eyes glazed over. If Claire and Nathan hadn’t told him it happened he still wouldn’t believe it.
“Hey.” He glanced up and saw Claire hovering in the doorway. “Can I come in?”
“Sure.” He graciously shifted to make room for her on his bed. She entered and took a seat beside him. They exchanged silent smiles with one another. After saving each other’s lives, their bond had grown even stronger. Peter mutely held out the shard of glass for her inspection. The girl took it from him, rolling it over in her own hand before offering it back.
“I still can’t believe it,” Peter said.
“I know,” Claire agreed. “I died once, you know.”
“I think I remember you telling me,” Peter nodded. It was one of the first conversations he had with the cheerleader. “You said it was no big deal. Now I understand why: I didn’t even feel like I died. All I remember is a sharp pain, and the next minute I’m waking up with you and Nathan beside me.”
“At least you didn’t wake up in a morgue with your body cut open,” Claire said with a faint attempt at smiling. Peter said nothing, turning his attention back to the shard of glass. “It’s just so unreal, isn’t it?” His eyes flickered back up to the girl’s face. His niece. He was still adjusting to that bit of news.
“Yeah, it is,” he agreed. “Sort of like a fairy tale.”
“What?”
“You know. Like in Snow White. She was dead, but then the prince came and broke the spell.” Peter felt a little silly mentioning that, and Claire must have thought so too because she let out a sudden burst of laughter.
"Snow White?" she echoed. "So are you the prince or Snow White in that analogy?"
"A little of both." He grinned at her. "You did save my life, after all."
"All I did was pull a shard of glass from your head," Claire answered awkwardly. "Nothing that heroic, really."
"Then it's like the Sword in the Stone," Peter insisted. She gave him a look, and he knew he was grasping at straws here. "All I'm saying is that it was pretty fantastic, what you did. What we've both done." He held up the shard of glass to the light. "If we can conquer death, then maybe we can find a way to stop me from exploding."
"You shouldn't be exploding at all," Claire told him with a heavy sigh. "Normal people don't blow up, or come back from the dead. We're freaks." Peter frowned a little; he wasn't sure how to answer that. He understood where she was coming from, though. He was sure that if this happened to him when he was a teenager he'd be feeling the same way.
"Maybe," he conceded, "but the freaks are the ones who get all the good stories."
"What?" Claire raised a questioning eyebrow.
"Just think about it. The main characters in fairy tales are mostly freaks: people under enchantments, or who do weird things. And their stories always have happy endings." Claire bit her lip, looking like she was trying hard not to laugh at him. "Freaks can change the world, Claire," Peter insisted. "I don't think it's anything to be ashamed of."
"Wish I could feel the same way," the girl sighed. They fell silent for a moment. Peter stared at the shard of glass in his hand thoughtfully.
"Claire." She turned her gaze on him expectantly. "You may be a freak, but guess what: so am I. You're not alone."