Extraordinaries: Part 2!
Peter stared into his cup of coffee. “Wow,” he managed to gasp out.
Claude nodded. “My thoughts exactly when he first told me.”
Peter blinked. “So all that, about … Sylar and … the explosion and … all of us being in NYC that night and … the Company and Linderman … all that is …”
“Connected, mate, bloody connected. Great big spider-web of life …” Claude chuckled. “Suppose I better show ya around, set ya up in yer room. The place Gabriel was watching over ya in was one of the infirmaries, yer bunking with me for now.”
Peter downed his cup of coffee and followed Claude into the vast network of tunnels. If he hadn’t absorbed eidetic memory from Gabriel, Peter would have had a nervous breakdown from all the twists and turns that Claude navigated with such obvious ease.
Every so often they’d run into someone, or a group of two or three. Some stood out: a girl in blazing rainbow stripes and plaid; an incredibly tall man who melted into two short men and back once more; three little girls of about eight who zoomed down the tunnel like mini-Nathans.
“So, here we are,” Claude yanked open a door that had ‘Claude Raines’ drawn on it in bold black sharpie. “Home sweet home,”
The inside is about the size of a large walk-in closet. Room enough for a bunk bed, a chest of drawers, a trunk, and two men. Not much else though.
Peter eagerly looked around for some clue to Claude’s past - photos of family, posters of bands, anything - but besides the books scattered all about the room there was nothing incriminating.
Claude chuckled. “Yer not delving into my past unless I let ya, pup,” he leaned against the wall. “Top or bottom?”
Peter raised his eyebrows. “Claude, we just got here … you’re awfully eager …”
Claude lightly smacked him. “I didn’t mean like that ya idiot … unless ya wanted to -” he cocked his head.
Peter laughed. “Later: definitely, but I’ve got a lot to think about …”
Claude groaned. “I’m gonna get a bloody headache from all yer thoughts … I’ll be in the cafeteria - ya remember how to get there, right?”
“Five tunnels from here, take a left, then a right, then right through.” Peter said automatically.
Claude grinned. “Knew ya were getting’ control … see ya,” he smiled at Peter and left.
Peter paced back and forth in the small room for quite some time. It was so much to take in ...
He sighed, collapsed down on the bottom bunk, and closed his eyes. This was going to take some getting used to …
~*~
After a restless night’s sleep, Claude had dragged Peter to the cafeteria to have breakfast.
“Mind if we sit over there, Peter?” Claude asked.
Peter eyed the indicated table - the girl who knocked him out and Gabriel were eating cereal and flipping through the latest New Yorker. “Um … sure …”
Claude raised his eyebrows. “If ya’d rather somewhere else …”
“No! No, I’m fine … plus, I’d better get over my Gabriel-fear.” His words floated through Peter’s head.
Claude shrugged and they headed across the room, taking chairs across from the girl and Gabriel.
The girl grinned. “Morning! Look, I don’t think I introduced myself: Kate Alison,” she stuck her hand across the table.
Peter tentatively took it. “Everyone seems to know me already,” he said with a bit of a laugh.
Kate smiled. “Yeah, you’re legendary,” she handed Claude her copy of the New Yorker and pulled a manga book out of her bag. “Why don’t they just kiss already?!” she muttered to herself, flipping through the pages.
Peter read the cover Godchild was splayed across the cover in red letters, a 3 was in the corner and ‘by Kaori Yuki’ was in the other corner.
Peter nibbled on a piece of toast Claude handed him. It was very odd to be sitting across from a man who’d killed you a few months ago. But he wasn’t the same man - Peter kept reminding himself …
Candice skidded into the cafeteria and headed for Claude’s table. “Bad news: they’re moving.”
Claude stood up sharply. “You need all of us?”
Candice nodded. “Me, you, Kate, Gabe, and Peter. Louis already headed out with Violet.”
Kate set her book down and stood up. Gabriel and Peter were already standing.
“Let’s go kick some ass,” Kate said, marching off after Candice.
~*~
Peter flopped down onto the bottom bunk, running his fingers through his soaking hair - the battle had gotten him so blood-coated and dirty he’d taken a shower. Claude was still in line - everyone else had been desperate to get clean too.
Peter squirmed around on the bunk and wondered if the top one was cozier. He climbed the ladder and laid down on it.
There was something hard under the pillow - absentmindedly, Peter pulled it out.
It was silver-framed black and white photograph - about two inches across and three inches up - of a beautiful young woman with long hair that was flying around in a breeze. There were rocks and ocean behind her and a scarf around her neck.
A much younger - and visibly happier - Claude had his arms around the woman. And he was kissing her on the lips.
Peter stuffed it back under the pillow and leapt down to the floor. Pain jumped through his legs but he ignored it and lay down on the bottom bunk, a million emotions dashing through his mind.
When Claude returned, he took one look at Peter and staggered back. “Ya saw it, didn’t you? The picture of me an’ Emily?”
Peter stared at him. “Who was she?” he felt like his heart was trying to force its way up his throat.
Claude sighed, a shadow crossing his face. “That’s a story for another day, Pete,” he said, tossing his dirty clothes into the hamper.
“But -”
“Another day, Peter.” Claude snapped sharply.
Peter fell silent. He was about to say something angry when he looked up and noticed that Claude had tears in his eyes. “Oh damn,” Peter stood up and flung his arms around the Englishman. “I’m so stupid … don’t cry … no …”
“Ya didn’t know … ya couldn’t know …” Claude shook himself and drew away from Peter, rubbing his eyes furiously. “Just trust me on this, ok? I’ll tell ya … just not now.”
Peter nodded. He could live with that.
Claude smiled, gave Peter a quick kiss, and climbed up onto the top bunk.
~*~
“And then he says ‘This isn’t my police box!’” Claude concluded, roaring with laughter.
Peter sputtered and put his head into his hands. Gabriel giggled so much his glasses fell off. Kate spit out her orange juice - but Gabriel froze it just in time and handed it back to her.
“Popsicle?” he asked, grinning.
It had been two weeks since Peter had found the photo. Neither he nor Claude had mentioned it since.
It was nice to fall into a routine again: eating all his meals with Claude, Kate, and Gabriel; going out on strange and exciting missions; practicing control of his limitless powers; spending the night snuggled up next to Claude …
And, watching Kate lick her juice and Gabriel argue with Claude about time-travel - Peter decided he wouldn’t have it any other way.
Louis strode into the room. Peter set his toast down: Louis looking so serious could only mean another mission.
“Trouble?” Claude asked worriedly.
“Not exactly,” Louis said cryptically. “Peter, you’re needed at the infirmary.”
Peter exchanged a look with Claude and stood up. “What happened?”
Louis nodded to the door. “Come: you should see this for yourself.”
Peter jogged to keep up with Louis’ long strides. “Did someone die?” he asked nervously.
Louis shook his head. “No. Remember how you were … ah … how you came to be here?”
Peter nodded. “Yeah, why?”
“Another person has been … another person experienced the same thing. Well, Kate did not whack him over the head, but he was taken against his will and now he’s in the infirmary. You know him.”
Peter frowned. “Who?”
They halted at the door. Louis turned to face Peter.
“Mohinder Suresh.”
(A/N: I’d be very happy if someone drew that photo!)