Title: Snapshots: Carry On
Chapter: Prologue: Time
Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: For Peter Petrelli, those 63 years of his life were the most significant, and they will be eternally, because she became the gift he held in turn for being immortal.
A/N: Snapshot--a record or view of a particular point in a sequence of events or a continuing process. This is just the introduction, but there are hints at the pairing. R&R, and ENJOY!

Light rain. Clouds. Surrounded by green--except this large mound before him.

A heap of brown dirt, prodded by dirt, covering his world.

He crouches, with one knee on the grass, careful not to step on the mound, not to touch it. But the stone, engraved with so little words, his fingers graze over. His eyes wet, but not from the little droplets from the clouds above.

Everything is going to change. His life, his priorities. Everything is going to revert. His physique, his status.

It was Superman's curse, and it sounds a bit pompous to compare himself to the man, the myth, the legend, but the fictional caricature is the only thing he can identify himself him with.

It was Superman's curse, to be forever young in a land where everyone grew old. To live forever, when everyone else perished.

It was Superman's gift, and by no means does he intend to portray himself as the greatest, but it was Superman's gift to swoop in and save lives day after day, to mentor others to do the same.

But no gift, no gift that Superman claimed, was as grand as Lois Lane, the one gift that would kick his butt if he called her 'his.' And in no way does he dare to compare his grandest gift to Lois Lane, although if the bill fit…

Yes, the last 63 years of his life had been everything and more he could ever dream of, even the nightmares he wouldn't dispose of. Yes, she had been his grandest gift, the one thing he would give up immortality and vanity up for. However, although Lois Lane had been tough, witty, independent, and spunky, she had been all of that and so much more. She had been all of that, times ten, and a million other things, but above all, she had been the shock wave of his life, the ever-changing bolt from the blue.

That gravestone could not begin to describe what she was in life. Nothing in the world could. She had provided him relief, humor, fun, and love in all the wars they fought. Through his life, forever he would carry her heart. Because she had said he was her heart, and so long as he was alive, she was also. This is what he believes, this is the faith he must carry, or else, he must utilize the fact that a wound through the head is the only way out.

He runs his hand through his gray hair, and then over his deep wrinkles. He pulls his hand out in front of him, eyeing all the lines and wrinkles on his hand.

This is it, now you go back to that day when age became irrelevant, because she swore she'd haunt you if you didn't heal time's effects.

She swore a lot of things, he smirks in spite of himself. Oh how he misses her. She's been gone only three days, but he misses her bright eyes already. If it hurt this much after three days, he can't imagine what it'll feel like to go a lifetime without her. He can't, because her memory still burns through his veins. Her power is as vivid in his eyes as it was those 63 years ago, when she was re-introduced into his life indefinitely.