this god envies none

“With all that effort, I could just… go back to school, couldn’t I?” 

It’s something she had thought about, sometimes. The only problem was her inability to decide what to study. She still wasn’t sure what she wanted to do with her life, especially in terms of making college and career plans. 

“Do I really seem like I need cheering up?” 

“Just a bit.”

He crossed his arms.

“You need the hands-on training,” he said. “That’s what you are missing. You need to have an experience, on your own terms. Find out what you are made of.”

“Good choice.”

Marilyn wrapped her arms around with a grin, even lifted him up a bit, before stepping back again. There was an expectant look on her face and she poked him on the shoulder.

“Are you inspired yet? Or do you want to try jumping out my plane? That’s exciting. I haven’t tried it, but you’d probably get a kick out of it.”

“All right, all right. Not so much excitement.”

He held up his hand.

“I’d be more impressed if I feel from the plane and you caught me,” he said, “but I think that one would be pretty messy. Still, you have a point. You have access to the great, big sky--.”

He looked at her.

“Most of my income is from hustling drinking contests. I don’t exactly get a W-2 for that,” she said with a shrug. “I guess there’s the Petrelli money Nathan left me too, but technically I don’t get any of that unless I go back to school.” 

Which clearly was not part of her plan, at least at the moment. 

“What’s new? Uh. Not much, actually. But honestly, that’s kind of a good thing. Even if it has me paranoid that things are gonna go south again soon.” 

He crossed his arms, and thought:

“Why don’t you hustle him on the school idea?” he asked. “Go back to school. I’ll hire someone to be you, so to speak. You get paid.”

He was testing his limits a bit for his next proposal.

“What else would be the point of fighting?” he asked shortly. Other than to take him in to the Red Paladins, but they’d have no use for this man as far as the monk could see.

“Oh, now this--I missed.”

He unsheathed his blade under his jacket. It had been a very long time. He had no intention of striking a blow or even minded the cut. It was more that killing intent. Yes, that one.

Marilyn crossed her arms and stood right in front of him, an eyebrow arched high and questioningly. 

There was a difference between her and her brothers and anyone else her father had left behind. She had no doubt he believed it was the right choice then and maybe it even was. 

Marilyn placed her hands on his shoulders and met his gaze, locked him in place with it.

“You are my father. You have already influenced my life and so did Mom, but I’m not being robbed of my choices here. I’d just like my father to stick around without him being worried about his effect on my life, ‘cause I’ll tell you now— the alternative has an effect to.”

She let him go and stepped back.

“And you’re right. I would do a better job. You’d never get free. I’m badass like that.”

Now he was being accused of worrying.

That had been years, and not how he had gone about it. He had learned before to simply accept the unpleasant truths about the worst things. He had been taught he could change it. He had lived that way, and he had been one of the corrupting influences....

By showing people they could change it.

By the mere knowledge, people broke. He didn’t make their choices, either. He didn’t once. But somehow he has confronted with knowing that difference. He was also wondering which part was his own fear, again.

Then he slowly looked down, to hide a smile.

“You won’t let me go then,” he said. “Well, on those terms, I’ll be sticking.”

He paused, and he touched her cheek.

“Damn, and I thought I was good at holding a grudge.” 

She had nothing on Adam, though maybe that was down to age and experience.

He simply smiled, at that. One of his foibles, undoubtedly. And his very, very good memory. He hoped she was retaining some of her grudges along the way.

“Okay, not that grown up.” 

“Good. I was about to say.”

He put a hand to his chest.

“I’m pretty sure it’s just called a vlog, Dad.”

Marilyn was also pretty sure that he already knew that. Just like he knew everything else. Quietly and premeditated until that moment to strike. She was also of aware of how much that allowed for her life to be the way it was.

“I’ve got time to be selfish. I don’t mind being involved for now. Before I become disenchanted with my old age. Besides, my science project was totally for my own satisfaction.”

It wasn’t entirely a joke, but she wasn’t ready to be completely serious yet.

“You’re not in denial, right? You know I’m going to be around for a while and I plan on staying with you.”

“I don’t care what you call it as long as it ruins lives.”

He paused, and he decided....honesty. He was always honest with her. In his worst moments, he was --manipulative. It wasn’t entirely the conman of the old feudal era either. He simply became that way. Lying to be among them, all. He could say it was an instinctive part of the ability, in a way.

A good armor.

But Marilyn deserved better. He’d never lie in that way, besides--not the way Nakamura had lied.

“I don’t have the luxury for denial,” he offered. “Besides there was that time you got me arrested, I believe. You’d do a better job of that now.”

Then again:

“I’ve never done this before. I’ve left people behind who were meant to die. I’ve stayed until they died. I left your brothers a long time ago when it was clear...”

He looked ahead.

The sword in his hand twirled slightly. “I can give you plenty to cry about.”

“You study the blade.”

Some sarcasm, as he had been told the same obnoxious advice before, time and time....and time again.

“I’m extremely broken up! But I think you should broaden your audience. I’m not a child anymore. You can be less selective. I encourage it.”

Marilyn wrapped an arm around his shoulders and walked with him. There were several ways this could go, but she was still rather fond of the entire thing.

“I’ll be your partner in crime. You’ve helped me out enough with my science projects.”

“You mean, a V-blog?”

He paused, in the cooling area, and he agreed. She was not a child anymore. He’d give her a better life than he--(believed)--he had remembered, and the Company had not interfered. He had learned enough to see what happened in such a situation. Never meant to go on that long. Never meant to be permanent.

“Let me be serious for a moment. Once you start, you’ll find yourself always involved in some way. For me, my hand always ends up on the trigger.”

Not by asking, as they believed. It always fell to him. It would always fall to the other one like him too. Not by asking. Immortality did not feel like a long slog as mortals believed. Mortals believed they had all the time in the world, without consequence. He believed every moment had to be gained.

“Of course, there’s the big acts, but many forget the smaller pieces. You get involved, you can’t help yourself. So I’d suggest doing it all for yourself. Your own satisfaction.”

“Like the look. It’s very--teary.”

He paused.

“People do that, you know. In my case, I think it’s called growing up.” 

“I’m not disenchanted. I’m simply making sure you stay on your toes. Don’t let another century make you complacent on your definition of impressive.”

Marilyn smiled, and barely held back a laugh.

“I can’t get drunk without crying about microscopic organisms.”

“Not complacent. More for a select audience. I am a family man now.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Well, you’re drinking the microscopic organisms,” he said. “You’re not that broken up.”

He remembered the first manifestation of her power. He had worked with her, worked with her resilience. Still, she was much more--connected to the way of things that he would have liked. He had his beginnings of a concern.

“Or you’ve lost your touch. It’s okay, old man. You can’t always be impressive. Retirement is nothing to be ashamed of.”

He put a hand to his chest.

“Now those are fighting words,” he said. “Have to say, disenchantment doesn’t suit you. I didn’t hit that phase until...”

He considered.

“Until I couldn’t get properly drunk. What’s your excuse?”

She was the creative one, he could never forget. The one child he hadn’t run from, watched from a distance--

“Cheer up, “ Arthur echoed wryly. “Did I cheer you up, Adam?”

For a moment he was amused – or at least, sounded amused, and allowed his fingers to skirt fleetingly down the side of his arm. Marveled at the warmth of his skin. It burned beneath his touch, similar to his, similar to a human’s…

But they were beyond that.

They, together.

It had been a while since he’d felt that cold, damning arrogance rise up in him. After so many years among them, he had simply forgotten. And with that – Adam’s simple declaration of the truth – his fascination faded, giving way to unsettling silence. 

The darkness of the room felt vast.

“What will you do if you succeed?”

“Will you keep me?”

What will he do?

That’s a grand question. He tended not to think about it, just like the times before. Mostly because there was no success. Wars kept coming. Didn’t stop with a victory. Famine and the like, weapons. One destruction was not enough. The Company itself--

Merely a useless bandage. The wound had to heal itself.

After he took back power and ended the hunting of those with gifts, what would he do? That was the problem with immortality while holding it closely. Now he was being asked for commitment. He hadn’t thought about that either. When it hit, it hit, and he was a fool each time. Some arrangements were just that, some more. He shouldn’t think about it.

Then he scoffed.

“That’s not a user-friendly suggestion. You’re not mine to own.”