(no subject)
Sooo umm, this is my first Peter/Claire fic. In fact, this is my first fic outside the OTH fandom so hopefully it doesn't entirely suck. Lemme know what y'all think of it.
Title: Light Surrounding You
Pairing: Peter/Claire undertones
Word Count: 2,783
Rating: T
Summary: A flash of blonde hair, a trembling hand holding a gun and haunting blue green eyes. That's all he can remember. Spoilers up to 2.02.
Status:Oneshot-Completed
This isn’t just random. It’s destiny.
He had come to the conclusion that it wasn’t entirely terrible not having a memory. The past was just that, the past, and there was probably very little importance in it. He had to keep telling himself this. If he didn’t, he’d get frustrated and bolts of electricity would shoot from his hands, and he’d get another beating. That was the other thing. He didn’t really understand what was going on with him; why he had all these…powers. From his own common sense, he knew this wasn’t normal, and he was afraid if he recovered his memory, he might remember how he had used them. So far it had been his instinct to attack whoever came near him, and if that was the case, then maybe he had been using these powers to hurt people. He didn’t think he could live with himself if all the sudden he started remembering the terrible things he had done.
But life is never fair. Because as soon as you start accepting the way things are, they like to change. As soon as he promised himself that he would stop trying to figure out his past, he started having dreams. They weren’t long, maybe thirty second at the most, or at least, that’s all he could recall in the morning. It was always the same scene though. A flash of blonde hair, a small trembling hand holding a gun and blue green eyes, and then, he’d wake up with those eyes still haunting him. He had no idea who she was. Had he attacked her? Killed her even? Or was she just an illusion.
That’s why he had gone along with the Irish man’s plans. He didn’t care what his social security number was, whether he had grown up in San Diego or Saigon or if he had a family out there. Right now his concern was the blonde haired girl. Because he had to know, how he knew her. He couldn’t believe she was just an illusion. His mind was trying to tell him something. His intuition kept telling him that the box would give him his answers. And he needed to trust his instincts because right now they were all he had going for him.
“All right, you did your part,” the Irish man had said when they came back from their job. They made him do things, things he would regret. Robbery, arson, assault, maybe even murder. But the whole time it was as if his body was on autopilot. There had been weeks of preparation where his conscience ate away at him during the day, only to be soothed come morning by his dreams. This girl, whoever she was, was worth it.
“Where is it?”
“Here,” the man said throwing the box at him, “There’s not much in there, but I never claimed there was.”
He frowned a little, fearing that this was all in vain, but he took the box. He went to the back room of the bar, his fingers itching to open the box. He didn’t know why, but he was hesitating. He had been waiting three weeks for this moment, and now that it had presented itself to him, he wasn’t sure he was ready for the truth.
Finally he gathered enough courage to crack open the box. His eyes peered over the edge of it, and his eyebrows furrowed at the sight. A piece of paper. Just a small folded piece of paper sat alone in the middle of the box. His name was written across the front, and he recognized the handwriting as his own, even though he hadn’t written anything since he lost his memory. He unfolded the paper slowly. Six words.
“Save the cheerleader, save the world,” he mumbled, reading the small scrap. He closed his eyes and suddenly the flashes from his dream paraded in front of him. The cheerleader.
When he opened his eyes, he was no longer in Ireland.
----
She came home from school and plopped down on the front lawn. The cool, wet grass tickled her skin and lulled her into a peaceful trance. Today had been rough. She’d spent it ducking West. He was obsessed with her new power, and while part of her was flattered, another part was annoyed. It wasn’t his fault though. While she had wanted the freedom to be who she was, there was still a part of her that just felt empty no matter what she did.
She stared up at the sky wondering idly what the clouds might feel like. She wished she could fly like her father or like Peter for that matter. Flying was so magical, beautiful even. All she could do was regenerate. Repair damage, like a plumber or a handyman might. Where was the whimsy in that?
California air was thicker than in Texas, she noted. Every time she took a breath, she felt her lungs drag in her chest, not used to any of this. This idle pondering, this thick air, this internal angst which made even the most fundamental tasks like breathing painful.
Missing someone should not have been this painful. She had lost grandparents and even another uncle before. It had hurt, and she had even shed tears, but she hadn’t grieved for four months and counting. By then, she had forgotten, the memories fading to the back of her mind. There was no constant aching and tears. No lost sleep. But then again, none of those relatives had saved her life. None of them made her feel like there was such a thing as destiny. He had given her a purpose, and she missed that. She just missed him and his smile and his good heart. He wasn’t a liar or a fraud. He was never ashamed of her or of who she was. He was the only person who had made her feel safe.
It was wrong to feel this way. The thought passed through her head as she watched the purple and orange sky fade slowly into darkness. She knew that she was always treading a dangerous line when she thought about Peter. The thoughts were never the same as the ones she had for her father or for Nathan, her bio-dad or Lyle or any other male blood relatives. Just the thought of putting him in the same category with them made her toes curl. It wasn’t the same. It just couldn’t be the same.
“Destiny,” Claire whispered to no one. Peter had said that it was destiny, him finding her. He had wanted her to believe it was fated. Her uncle save her. She had to accept it. Just like she had to accept he was gone and nothing she could do would bring him back. She closed her eyes, and let another tear fall for him.
There was a loud thump from across the lawn and her eyes snapped open at the sound. She propped herself up on her elbows, glancing around her but saw nothing. She turned her head all the way around and almost collapsed at the sight.
“No freaking way,” she gasped. Was that Peter Petrelli on her front lawn?
-----
Another power he could add to his list. He had no idea what he was gonna call this one. Blinking random teleportation? How far had he gone? He sat up a little scratching the back of his head and checked his surroundings. This definitely wasn’t Ireland. America, he thought. He was from America. Maybe he had teleported himself home?
He looked around again and suddenly his eyes became locked with a girl sitting no more than ten feet in front of him. How had he missed her before?
“Peter!” she yelled to him. His eyes widened as he watched her, the way her blonde hair swished as she came closer and closer to him. Blonde hair. Blue-green eyes. He stole a glance at her hands and just like in his dream they trembled.
“What are you doing here?” she asked coming to stand in front of him. “Everyone’s worried sick about you. Nathan’s a mess and so is your mom and God, I’ve missed you so much.” He found it cute how she blushed right after she said it, but he shook it off.
“Nathan?” he asked, “Who’s Nathan?”
“Your brother,” Claire said slowly. She leaned over and touched his forehead, “You do remember Nathan?”
“No,” he said honestly, “I don’t remember anything.” He looked up at her, the shame written on his face.
“Wait, but then how’d you get here? Why’d you even think to come here?”
He stood up, regretting immediately. The teleportation had left him weaker than he could have ever imagined. He took a step back and managed to breathe out a response.
“Save the cheerleader, save the world,” he said. Then, he passed out on her front lawn.
----
Claire didn’t know how long she stared at him, passed out on her lawn, but eventually Lyle had spotted her from his bedroom window and came down to check on her. While Claire stayed frozen on the front lawn, he had managed to get her father and help drag Peter inside and up into the closest bedroom which just happened to be Claire’s. Sooner or later, her mother guided her inside into the kitchen and tried to tip toe around the subject about how Peter Petrelli had wound up on their front lawn, though Claire would not know how to answer that anyway.
About fifteen minutes later, her father came back downstairs and gave her a look. She knew it all too well. It was the one that meant he needed answers, and he needed them soon. Claire tried to ignore it.
“How’d he wind up on our lawn?” It was Lyle who was the brave one.
“I don’t know,” Claire said honestly, “One minute, I was watching the clouds and the next minute I heard a thump and there he was.”
“You didn’t see where he came from,” Noah asked.
“No,” Claire said softly, tugging at the cuffs of her shirt. “Dad, is it true…”
“He doesn’t remember anything.”
“Was it the Haitian?”
“I don’t think so,” her father said, shaking his head, “I think this is just a case of amnesia.”
“Did you call his brother?” Claire’s mother asked, before Claire could.
“It was the first thing I did. It took a lot of convincing for him to take a plane out here instead of just…well flying. But I figured in Nathan’s…state…it would be best if he didn’t rely on his powers to get here. He’ll be here to pick him up in the morning so Claire you’ll need to sleep in the guest bedroom tonight.” Noah paused to take a sip of his coffee, “I’d tell Peter to move in there, but he needs rest.”
He gave Claire a pointed look and she nodded, knowing full and well, she wouldn’t be following his advice.
-----
She waited until everyone in the house was fast asleep before she tiptoed from the guest bedroom to her room. She half expected him to still be out cold, but he wasn’t. He was just sitting on his bed, staring out the window.
“Hey you,” she said softly. His eyes immediately darted to her figure, and she saw his tense hands relax when he realized it was her.
“Hi…cheerleader.”
“The name is Claire.” She approached his bedside and he scooted over so she could sit there.
“Claire,” he repeated, trying hard to jog his memory for some recollection of the name, but he came up empty. “It’s a pretty name.”
“Thanks.”
“I’m sorry I just showed up here,” Peter said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck, “I didn’t mean to. One minute, I closed my eyes, the next minute I was on your front lawn.”
“Teleportation? Like Hiro? Only…I don’t think that’s exactly how his works,” Claire pondered aloud, “I’m not sure though.”
“Huh?”
“Sorry I forgot. You don’t know what I’m talking about.”
“You know about my powers though?” Peter asked quirking an eyebrow.
“You’re an empath.”
“What does that mean?”
“Umm, you’re like a sponge. You soak up the powers of those around you. That’s why you have so many of them. You got your healing from me.” She gave him a quick smile.
“Really?” he said, his eyes widening.
“Yep.”
“Can I be honest with you?” he whispered, his voice so broken it sounded like a lost child.
“Of course,” Claire nodded.
“I’m scared…These powers I have…they make me capable of terrible things, and I just can’t help but wonder who I might have hurt with them.”
“You didn’t hurt anyone,” Claire said quickly cutting him off, “You used your powers to do good things. You saved my life with them.”
“Save the cheerleader…”
“…save the world,” Claire finished with a half smile, “We’re still trying to figure out how that works.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Shoot.”
“I’ve been having these dreams about you. That’s how I recognized you on the lawn.”
Claire blushed, “Really?”
“Not like that,” Peter sighed, rubbing his eyes, “It would just be flashes of your hair or your eyes.”
“Oh.”
“And there was this one vision of you holding a gun,” Peter looked up at her, expectantly and she sighed.
“You want me to tell you about it?”
“If you don’t mind,” he said placing his hand over hers, “But if it’s something you don’t want to talk about-”
“It’s fine,” she said cutting him off. She proceeded to tell him the whole story, from the very beginning where he came and saved her at her high school. She told him about his past, as much as she knew which wasn’t much at all. Just his occupation and where he grew up. She told him about the other heroes and his brother. She conveniently left out the part where she was his niece. She figured Nathan would fill him in on that in the morning and for one night she’d like for him to look at her like a person he could talk to and not family.
When she finished her whole story, she noticed he looked depressed.
“So I was right to be concerned.”
She furrowed her eyebrows, not understanding what he meant.
Seeing her confusion, he elaborated. “I almost destroyed New York City with my powers.”
“But you didn’t,” Claire said.
“But I-”
“You saved my life,” Claire said firmly, “You just better get over the fact that I’m not going to agree with you this one.”
“You’re stubborn,” Peter grinned.
“Yeah well, you’re my hero, and I don’t like it when people mock my hero.”
Peter chuckled, laying his head back on his pillow. As the laughter died down, he turned to face her. “Were we close before the explosion?”
She noticed he was looking at their still intertwined hands.
“Yeah,” Claire said solemnly, squeezing his hand, “Like family almost.” She chuckled a little at the irony of her word choice, but Peter didn’t notice.
“I can tell,” he said. “Though I must admit, it seems random that a male nurse from New York would be that close with a teenage cheerleader from Texas.”
“It’s not random. It’s destiny,” Clair smiled.
“Huh?” Peter asked.
“You told me that.”
Peter opened his mouth to respond, but instead of words coming out, he yawned.
“You should get some sleep.”
“Yeah,” Peter admitted, “Whose room is this?”
“Mine,” Claire blushed, “It was the closest room when they carried you up.”
“I’m sorry,” Peter frowned.
“It’s okay. I don’t mind the guest room.”
“We could switch.”
“I got a better idea,” Claire said, biting her lip, “Scoot over.”
Peter furrowed his eyebrows, but obliged. Claire laid down next to him, her body curling up beside him.
“I don’t think your father would approve of this,” Peter muttered.
Neither of her father’s would, she thought, but she didn’t say anything.
“He trusts you. I trust you,” Claire said simply. She felt Peter relax at her words as he wrapped his arm around her.
“Okay,” he sighed.
“I missed you,” she admitted.
“I missed you too, I think,” he breathed. She smiled at little before snuggling closer to his chest. Soon his breathing evened out and she knew he was asleep.
She knew that there were a billion things wrong with this picture. That she should have gotten up and gone down stairs and slept on the couch because tomorrow morning her father would find her here and her bio-dad would probably be right with him. But as she lulled into a peaceful trance with Peter at her side, she decided she didn’t care.
----
The title came from a Evermore song Milla sent to me which was totally a Heroes song and I just thought it fit well. So? What did you think?
Title: Light Surrounding You
Pairing: Peter/Claire undertones
Word Count: 2,783
Rating: T
Summary: A flash of blonde hair, a trembling hand holding a gun and haunting blue green eyes. That's all he can remember. Spoilers up to 2.02.
Status:Oneshot-Completed
This isn’t just random. It’s destiny.
He had come to the conclusion that it wasn’t entirely terrible not having a memory. The past was just that, the past, and there was probably very little importance in it. He had to keep telling himself this. If he didn’t, he’d get frustrated and bolts of electricity would shoot from his hands, and he’d get another beating. That was the other thing. He didn’t really understand what was going on with him; why he had all these…powers. From his own common sense, he knew this wasn’t normal, and he was afraid if he recovered his memory, he might remember how he had used them. So far it had been his instinct to attack whoever came near him, and if that was the case, then maybe he had been using these powers to hurt people. He didn’t think he could live with himself if all the sudden he started remembering the terrible things he had done.
But life is never fair. Because as soon as you start accepting the way things are, they like to change. As soon as he promised himself that he would stop trying to figure out his past, he started having dreams. They weren’t long, maybe thirty second at the most, or at least, that’s all he could recall in the morning. It was always the same scene though. A flash of blonde hair, a small trembling hand holding a gun and blue green eyes, and then, he’d wake up with those eyes still haunting him. He had no idea who she was. Had he attacked her? Killed her even? Or was she just an illusion.
That’s why he had gone along with the Irish man’s plans. He didn’t care what his social security number was, whether he had grown up in San Diego or Saigon or if he had a family out there. Right now his concern was the blonde haired girl. Because he had to know, how he knew her. He couldn’t believe she was just an illusion. His mind was trying to tell him something. His intuition kept telling him that the box would give him his answers. And he needed to trust his instincts because right now they were all he had going for him.
“All right, you did your part,” the Irish man had said when they came back from their job. They made him do things, things he would regret. Robbery, arson, assault, maybe even murder. But the whole time it was as if his body was on autopilot. There had been weeks of preparation where his conscience ate away at him during the day, only to be soothed come morning by his dreams. This girl, whoever she was, was worth it.
“Where is it?”
“Here,” the man said throwing the box at him, “There’s not much in there, but I never claimed there was.”
He frowned a little, fearing that this was all in vain, but he took the box. He went to the back room of the bar, his fingers itching to open the box. He didn’t know why, but he was hesitating. He had been waiting three weeks for this moment, and now that it had presented itself to him, he wasn’t sure he was ready for the truth.
Finally he gathered enough courage to crack open the box. His eyes peered over the edge of it, and his eyebrows furrowed at the sight. A piece of paper. Just a small folded piece of paper sat alone in the middle of the box. His name was written across the front, and he recognized the handwriting as his own, even though he hadn’t written anything since he lost his memory. He unfolded the paper slowly. Six words.
“Save the cheerleader, save the world,” he mumbled, reading the small scrap. He closed his eyes and suddenly the flashes from his dream paraded in front of him. The cheerleader.
When he opened his eyes, he was no longer in Ireland.
----
She came home from school and plopped down on the front lawn. The cool, wet grass tickled her skin and lulled her into a peaceful trance. Today had been rough. She’d spent it ducking West. He was obsessed with her new power, and while part of her was flattered, another part was annoyed. It wasn’t his fault though. While she had wanted the freedom to be who she was, there was still a part of her that just felt empty no matter what she did.
She stared up at the sky wondering idly what the clouds might feel like. She wished she could fly like her father or like Peter for that matter. Flying was so magical, beautiful even. All she could do was regenerate. Repair damage, like a plumber or a handyman might. Where was the whimsy in that?
California air was thicker than in Texas, she noted. Every time she took a breath, she felt her lungs drag in her chest, not used to any of this. This idle pondering, this thick air, this internal angst which made even the most fundamental tasks like breathing painful.
Missing someone should not have been this painful. She had lost grandparents and even another uncle before. It had hurt, and she had even shed tears, but she hadn’t grieved for four months and counting. By then, she had forgotten, the memories fading to the back of her mind. There was no constant aching and tears. No lost sleep. But then again, none of those relatives had saved her life. None of them made her feel like there was such a thing as destiny. He had given her a purpose, and she missed that. She just missed him and his smile and his good heart. He wasn’t a liar or a fraud. He was never ashamed of her or of who she was. He was the only person who had made her feel safe.
It was wrong to feel this way. The thought passed through her head as she watched the purple and orange sky fade slowly into darkness. She knew that she was always treading a dangerous line when she thought about Peter. The thoughts were never the same as the ones she had for her father or for Nathan, her bio-dad or Lyle or any other male blood relatives. Just the thought of putting him in the same category with them made her toes curl. It wasn’t the same. It just couldn’t be the same.
“Destiny,” Claire whispered to no one. Peter had said that it was destiny, him finding her. He had wanted her to believe it was fated. Her uncle save her. She had to accept it. Just like she had to accept he was gone and nothing she could do would bring him back. She closed her eyes, and let another tear fall for him.
There was a loud thump from across the lawn and her eyes snapped open at the sound. She propped herself up on her elbows, glancing around her but saw nothing. She turned her head all the way around and almost collapsed at the sight.
“No freaking way,” she gasped. Was that Peter Petrelli on her front lawn?
-----
Another power he could add to his list. He had no idea what he was gonna call this one. Blinking random teleportation? How far had he gone? He sat up a little scratching the back of his head and checked his surroundings. This definitely wasn’t Ireland. America, he thought. He was from America. Maybe he had teleported himself home?
He looked around again and suddenly his eyes became locked with a girl sitting no more than ten feet in front of him. How had he missed her before?
“Peter!” she yelled to him. His eyes widened as he watched her, the way her blonde hair swished as she came closer and closer to him. Blonde hair. Blue-green eyes. He stole a glance at her hands and just like in his dream they trembled.
“What are you doing here?” she asked coming to stand in front of him. “Everyone’s worried sick about you. Nathan’s a mess and so is your mom and God, I’ve missed you so much.” He found it cute how she blushed right after she said it, but he shook it off.
“Nathan?” he asked, “Who’s Nathan?”
“Your brother,” Claire said slowly. She leaned over and touched his forehead, “You do remember Nathan?”
“No,” he said honestly, “I don’t remember anything.” He looked up at her, the shame written on his face.
“Wait, but then how’d you get here? Why’d you even think to come here?”
He stood up, regretting immediately. The teleportation had left him weaker than he could have ever imagined. He took a step back and managed to breathe out a response.
“Save the cheerleader, save the world,” he said. Then, he passed out on her front lawn.
----
Claire didn’t know how long she stared at him, passed out on her lawn, but eventually Lyle had spotted her from his bedroom window and came down to check on her. While Claire stayed frozen on the front lawn, he had managed to get her father and help drag Peter inside and up into the closest bedroom which just happened to be Claire’s. Sooner or later, her mother guided her inside into the kitchen and tried to tip toe around the subject about how Peter Petrelli had wound up on their front lawn, though Claire would not know how to answer that anyway.
About fifteen minutes later, her father came back downstairs and gave her a look. She knew it all too well. It was the one that meant he needed answers, and he needed them soon. Claire tried to ignore it.
“How’d he wind up on our lawn?” It was Lyle who was the brave one.
“I don’t know,” Claire said honestly, “One minute, I was watching the clouds and the next minute I heard a thump and there he was.”
“You didn’t see where he came from,” Noah asked.
“No,” Claire said softly, tugging at the cuffs of her shirt. “Dad, is it true…”
“He doesn’t remember anything.”
“Was it the Haitian?”
“I don’t think so,” her father said, shaking his head, “I think this is just a case of amnesia.”
“Did you call his brother?” Claire’s mother asked, before Claire could.
“It was the first thing I did. It took a lot of convincing for him to take a plane out here instead of just…well flying. But I figured in Nathan’s…state…it would be best if he didn’t rely on his powers to get here. He’ll be here to pick him up in the morning so Claire you’ll need to sleep in the guest bedroom tonight.” Noah paused to take a sip of his coffee, “I’d tell Peter to move in there, but he needs rest.”
He gave Claire a pointed look and she nodded, knowing full and well, she wouldn’t be following his advice.
-----
She waited until everyone in the house was fast asleep before she tiptoed from the guest bedroom to her room. She half expected him to still be out cold, but he wasn’t. He was just sitting on his bed, staring out the window.
“Hey you,” she said softly. His eyes immediately darted to her figure, and she saw his tense hands relax when he realized it was her.
“Hi…cheerleader.”
“The name is Claire.” She approached his bedside and he scooted over so she could sit there.
“Claire,” he repeated, trying hard to jog his memory for some recollection of the name, but he came up empty. “It’s a pretty name.”
“Thanks.”
“I’m sorry I just showed up here,” Peter said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck, “I didn’t mean to. One minute, I closed my eyes, the next minute I was on your front lawn.”
“Teleportation? Like Hiro? Only…I don’t think that’s exactly how his works,” Claire pondered aloud, “I’m not sure though.”
“Huh?”
“Sorry I forgot. You don’t know what I’m talking about.”
“You know about my powers though?” Peter asked quirking an eyebrow.
“You’re an empath.”
“What does that mean?”
“Umm, you’re like a sponge. You soak up the powers of those around you. That’s why you have so many of them. You got your healing from me.” She gave him a quick smile.
“Really?” he said, his eyes widening.
“Yep.”
“Can I be honest with you?” he whispered, his voice so broken it sounded like a lost child.
“Of course,” Claire nodded.
“I’m scared…These powers I have…they make me capable of terrible things, and I just can’t help but wonder who I might have hurt with them.”
“You didn’t hurt anyone,” Claire said quickly cutting him off, “You used your powers to do good things. You saved my life with them.”
“Save the cheerleader…”
“…save the world,” Claire finished with a half smile, “We’re still trying to figure out how that works.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Shoot.”
“I’ve been having these dreams about you. That’s how I recognized you on the lawn.”
Claire blushed, “Really?”
“Not like that,” Peter sighed, rubbing his eyes, “It would just be flashes of your hair or your eyes.”
“Oh.”
“And there was this one vision of you holding a gun,” Peter looked up at her, expectantly and she sighed.
“You want me to tell you about it?”
“If you don’t mind,” he said placing his hand over hers, “But if it’s something you don’t want to talk about-”
“It’s fine,” she said cutting him off. She proceeded to tell him the whole story, from the very beginning where he came and saved her at her high school. She told him about his past, as much as she knew which wasn’t much at all. Just his occupation and where he grew up. She told him about the other heroes and his brother. She conveniently left out the part where she was his niece. She figured Nathan would fill him in on that in the morning and for one night she’d like for him to look at her like a person he could talk to and not family.
When she finished her whole story, she noticed he looked depressed.
“So I was right to be concerned.”
She furrowed her eyebrows, not understanding what he meant.
Seeing her confusion, he elaborated. “I almost destroyed New York City with my powers.”
“But you didn’t,” Claire said.
“But I-”
“You saved my life,” Claire said firmly, “You just better get over the fact that I’m not going to agree with you this one.”
“You’re stubborn,” Peter grinned.
“Yeah well, you’re my hero, and I don’t like it when people mock my hero.”
Peter chuckled, laying his head back on his pillow. As the laughter died down, he turned to face her. “Were we close before the explosion?”
She noticed he was looking at their still intertwined hands.
“Yeah,” Claire said solemnly, squeezing his hand, “Like family almost.” She chuckled a little at the irony of her word choice, but Peter didn’t notice.
“I can tell,” he said. “Though I must admit, it seems random that a male nurse from New York would be that close with a teenage cheerleader from Texas.”
“It’s not random. It’s destiny,” Clair smiled.
“Huh?” Peter asked.
“You told me that.”
Peter opened his mouth to respond, but instead of words coming out, he yawned.
“You should get some sleep.”
“Yeah,” Peter admitted, “Whose room is this?”
“Mine,” Claire blushed, “It was the closest room when they carried you up.”
“I’m sorry,” Peter frowned.
“It’s okay. I don’t mind the guest room.”
“We could switch.”
“I got a better idea,” Claire said, biting her lip, “Scoot over.”
Peter furrowed his eyebrows, but obliged. Claire laid down next to him, her body curling up beside him.
“I don’t think your father would approve of this,” Peter muttered.
Neither of her father’s would, she thought, but she didn’t say anything.
“He trusts you. I trust you,” Claire said simply. She felt Peter relax at her words as he wrapped his arm around her.
“Okay,” he sighed.
“I missed you,” she admitted.
“I missed you too, I think,” he breathed. She smiled at little before snuggling closer to his chest. Soon his breathing evened out and she knew he was asleep.
She knew that there were a billion things wrong with this picture. That she should have gotten up and gone down stairs and slept on the couch because tomorrow morning her father would find her here and her bio-dad would probably be right with him. But as she lulled into a peaceful trance with Peter at her side, she decided she didn’t care.
----
The title came from a Evermore song Milla sent to me which was totally a Heroes song and I just thought it fit well. So? What did you think?