Contingency 6/? (Claire/Isaac hiatus fic Heroes/Incidental Heroes)
Title: Contingency
Rating: R
Spoilers: Everything, including .07%, all the way up to Episode 9: Return, of Incidental Heroes. Vastly AU
Pairings: Isaac/Claire, others to be determined.
Characters: Isaac, Peter, Claire, MacKenzie (IHeroes), as well as the rest of the Heroes cast.
Genre: Action, Drama, Romance, It uses Incidental Heroes storylines and characters, so is arguably Crossover.
Warnings: Speculation!fic, character deaths, some underage themes.
Summary: Is destiny set in stone, immobile? Can disaster ever truly be prevented? And can a broken soul ever find salvation? Four broken heroes will do anything to make certain they can be.
Disclaimer: I would not be so irritated with Heroes if I owned it, I assure you.
AN: Another episode, another chapter! And wowie we are going AU! Guess that happens when the book is just starting and the season is just ending. :P
---
Contingency
Chapter 6
"Who are you?"
He frowned. A woman? Since when had Peter gotten another woman? He was certainly over Simone fast. Isaac bristled slightly at the thought, glaring at the figure. "You're the one that's not supposed to be here, so you tell me."
The girl stepped closer, hands fidgeting with their sleeves. He could just make out blondish hair in the light--but given that his hair was slightly maroon in this light, it didn't mean much. "I'm Claire."
The name was almost familiar to him. "Where am I?"
"I..." She cut off. "You haven't answered my question yet."
He narrowed his eyes. "Neither did you."
The figure froze in indignation. "I did, too!"
He scoffed, and shook his head, turning his gaze to the ceiling. "What, are you famous or something, that I'm supposed to recognize you by your first name?"
A pause, then. "No...I'm not. I'm just a cheerleader."
He sucked in a breath. A cheerleader? Like the one that idiot had harassed him about saving? Like the one he'd been forced to shoot up in a clean house to find? Like the one that Sylar was probably still hunting?
What was this, some safehouse for the hunted? What did Peter have to do with it all? Things just weren't adding up.
"What are you doing here?" Her, the cheerleader, Claire's voice broke into his thoughts suddenly.
He scowled. "Hell if I know."
"Why did Peter bring you here?"
"I don't know. I don't even know where here is." He replied sourly.
"Where did you come from? How did Peter find you? Is Sylar after you, too?"
"I don't know!" He snapped, pushing himself up on the bed to level a venomous glare on her, and subsequiently crumpling to the bed with a pained yell as his wounds protested harshly.
She was over his bedside before his vision cleared from the pain, concern written on her young features, long hair falling around her face, as she leaned down to look at his wrists. "Are you okay?! What happened?!"
He closed his eyes a moment to will away the pain, before gracing her with a sardonic look. "Who do you think happened?"
Her eyes widened with fear, awe, or both. "So you're one of us. You're like me?"
He winced slightly at a random stab of pain. "I wouldn't go that far."
.
"What...what can you do? Why was Sylar after you?"
He shook his head. Why wouldn't she just go away? Was this part of Peter's spite? "It doesn't matter."
She sighed softly. "I just...No one is telling me anything...I was hoping..."
"Tough luck, kid."
She frowned sharply. "Fine. Wallow in the dark by yourself. I guess I'll go see if Peter and the rest of them are done arguing yet. Peter will talk to me."
Rest of them?
He shook his head after a moment, refusing to give in to her teenaged level psychology. "Good for you. Now, leave me the hell alone."
The door slammed behind her.
--
Peter made a frustrated sound as he fell back into his bed, flinging a ball from the nearby desk into the ceiling. He did it two more times after Nathan yelled at him from the other room.
What the hell had he been thinking? Rescue. Isaac. The man that killed Simone.
Okay. So he could excuse the rescuing part--he hadn't exactly intended to teleport across New York, and Claude gave him a nasty look when he tried leaving without Isaac. Claude! And he said he didn't care about people.
And...okay, so he would have been arrested at the spot if he'd taken Isaac to a hospital. And this place was closer than his apartment. No one expected him to carry Isaac across the world and back, now did they?
Peter wished Claude had just taken the man himself, since he'd been so keen on the whole saving bit. But then again, Claude didn't exactly have anywhere to put a bleeding-to-death painter.
Dammit. If destiny kept up like this, New York...
He shook his head violently. No...avoid that particular line of thought for now.
The important thing at the moment was the fact that he'd just 'agreed' to help send Isaac into hiding, using Petrelli funds and manpower, and not just until Isaac could move without seeing stars, either.
Was the man's ability that important? He could always replicate it if he really had to.
He growled in frustration and flung the baseball against a wall.
Nathan's angry line of threats from the other room almost improved his mood.
---
Mackenzie brought up a hand to sheild herself from the glare of the sun as she stepped out of the hospital. Her legs felt sore either from disuse or the results from the explosion. Whichever, the medications were obviously starting to wear off.
Which was good, because she couldn't think straight with them in full force.
Not that she could say she was thinking all too clearly at the moment, either. She glanced down at the comic book she had pilfered from the waiting room while the receptionist was figuring out how many thousands of dollars she would owe.
She'd lost count the amount of times the reality of how insane this was had hit her. It didn't matter if it was insane anymore, she had nothing else to do but move on ahead, do what Shawn had suggested before she had left for Pennsylvania.
She flipped through the pages of the comic quickly until she reached the last page. She swallowed softly, fighting down the this is impossible that wanted to spill out.
Surreal was much more fitting, anyway.
She shook her head and turned to look out at the streets of Manhattan determinedly. Next stop: 215 Reed Street, #7.
She just hoped Peter had listened to her, and made it in time to help, or this would be more than one kind of dead end.
--
He was awake the next time someone came in. His wrists had been hurting far too much to sleep anyway. The sun had finished setting, his throat was parched, and his mood couldn't have been any sourer if he'd spent this whole time in the rain.
Given his dehydration, he'd have preferred that.
A light flipped on to his left, and Peter approached him with a glass of water and a straw.
"I suppose you expect a 'thank you'?" He grumbled, glaring at the man. "You're still not getting one."
"Do you want the drink or not?" Peter replied irritably, shoving the drink under his nose.
Isaac continued to glare at the man as he bit down on the straw. He was midly surprised when the water was cold--and if it had any funny taste to it, he couldn't notice through the simple fact that it was cold, wet, and refreshing.
"You hate me, I hate you." Peter deadpanned. "Have we established that? Good."
Under any other circumstances, Isaac would have spit the water at the man's face.
"Since you ended up here against my wishes..." Peter continued, ignoring Isaac's wilting look. "I can't exactly throw you out. It would go against my duty as a nurse."
He snerked. A male nurse--he'd almost forgotten that.
Peter glared, taking away the cup and placing it on a nightstand. "You're leaving here, tommorow."
"Good."
"Good, then Nathan won't have to throw you out on your ass." Peter snarked. "Mother will pack you some things, and you're leaving on the first plane to Paris."
It was fortunate he wasn't still drinking, as he would have choked the water all over himself.
"Its a private plane." Peter said, checking Isaac's bandaged wrists, before making an annoyed sound. "If you rip these open because you can't sit still, I'm not stitching them closed again."
"Why Paris?"
Peter didn't look up as he moved to check his ankles. "Its cheaper than two flights."
He narrowed his eyes.
"You'll have a place to stay until your recovered. What you do after that, I don't care."
"What, am I going to have to suffer your company in Paris, too?"
Peter levelled a flat look on him. "No. You'll be leaving with my neice, Claire."
CH End
------
AN: Okay, so not so much answered this chapter, either. Peter didn't cooperate so much with me. But, onward and upward! What will MacKenzie find in Isaac's loft? Will Isaac and Peter make it through the night without strangling each other? And what does Claire think about this new 'arrangement'?
Rating: R
Spoilers: Everything, including .07%, all the way up to Episode 9: Return, of Incidental Heroes. Vastly AU
Pairings: Isaac/Claire, others to be determined.
Characters: Isaac, Peter, Claire, MacKenzie (IHeroes), as well as the rest of the Heroes cast.
Genre: Action, Drama, Romance, It uses Incidental Heroes storylines and characters, so is arguably Crossover.
Warnings: Speculation!fic, character deaths, some underage themes.
Summary: Is destiny set in stone, immobile? Can disaster ever truly be prevented? And can a broken soul ever find salvation? Four broken heroes will do anything to make certain they can be.
Disclaimer: I would not be so irritated with Heroes if I owned it, I assure you.
AN: Another episode, another chapter! And wowie we are going AU! Guess that happens when the book is just starting and the season is just ending. :P
---
Contingency
Chapter 6
"Who are you?"
He frowned. A woman? Since when had Peter gotten another woman? He was certainly over Simone fast. Isaac bristled slightly at the thought, glaring at the figure. "You're the one that's not supposed to be here, so you tell me."
The girl stepped closer, hands fidgeting with their sleeves. He could just make out blondish hair in the light--but given that his hair was slightly maroon in this light, it didn't mean much. "I'm Claire."
The name was almost familiar to him. "Where am I?"
"I..." She cut off. "You haven't answered my question yet."
He narrowed his eyes. "Neither did you."
The figure froze in indignation. "I did, too!"
He scoffed, and shook his head, turning his gaze to the ceiling. "What, are you famous or something, that I'm supposed to recognize you by your first name?"
A pause, then. "No...I'm not. I'm just a cheerleader."
He sucked in a breath. A cheerleader? Like the one that idiot had harassed him about saving? Like the one he'd been forced to shoot up in a clean house to find? Like the one that Sylar was probably still hunting?
What was this, some safehouse for the hunted? What did Peter have to do with it all? Things just weren't adding up.
"What are you doing here?" Her, the cheerleader, Claire's voice broke into his thoughts suddenly.
He scowled. "Hell if I know."
"Why did Peter bring you here?"
"I don't know. I don't even know where here is." He replied sourly.
"Where did you come from? How did Peter find you? Is Sylar after you, too?"
"I don't know!" He snapped, pushing himself up on the bed to level a venomous glare on her, and subsequiently crumpling to the bed with a pained yell as his wounds protested harshly.
She was over his bedside before his vision cleared from the pain, concern written on her young features, long hair falling around her face, as she leaned down to look at his wrists. "Are you okay?! What happened?!"
He closed his eyes a moment to will away the pain, before gracing her with a sardonic look. "Who do you think happened?"
Her eyes widened with fear, awe, or both. "So you're one of us. You're like me?"
He winced slightly at a random stab of pain. "I wouldn't go that far."
.
"What...what can you do? Why was Sylar after you?"
He shook his head. Why wouldn't she just go away? Was this part of Peter's spite? "It doesn't matter."
She sighed softly. "I just...No one is telling me anything...I was hoping..."
"Tough luck, kid."
She frowned sharply. "Fine. Wallow in the dark by yourself. I guess I'll go see if Peter and the rest of them are done arguing yet. Peter will talk to me."
Rest of them?
He shook his head after a moment, refusing to give in to her teenaged level psychology. "Good for you. Now, leave me the hell alone."
The door slammed behind her.
--
Peter made a frustrated sound as he fell back into his bed, flinging a ball from the nearby desk into the ceiling. He did it two more times after Nathan yelled at him from the other room.
What the hell had he been thinking? Rescue. Isaac. The man that killed Simone.
Okay. So he could excuse the rescuing part--he hadn't exactly intended to teleport across New York, and Claude gave him a nasty look when he tried leaving without Isaac. Claude! And he said he didn't care about people.
And...okay, so he would have been arrested at the spot if he'd taken Isaac to a hospital. And this place was closer than his apartment. No one expected him to carry Isaac across the world and back, now did they?
Peter wished Claude had just taken the man himself, since he'd been so keen on the whole saving bit. But then again, Claude didn't exactly have anywhere to put a bleeding-to-death painter.
Dammit. If destiny kept up like this, New York...
He shook his head violently. No...avoid that particular line of thought for now.
The important thing at the moment was the fact that he'd just 'agreed' to help send Isaac into hiding, using Petrelli funds and manpower, and not just until Isaac could move without seeing stars, either.
Was the man's ability that important? He could always replicate it if he really had to.
He growled in frustration and flung the baseball against a wall.
Nathan's angry line of threats from the other room almost improved his mood.
---
Mackenzie brought up a hand to sheild herself from the glare of the sun as she stepped out of the hospital. Her legs felt sore either from disuse or the results from the explosion. Whichever, the medications were obviously starting to wear off.
Which was good, because she couldn't think straight with them in full force.
Not that she could say she was thinking all too clearly at the moment, either. She glanced down at the comic book she had pilfered from the waiting room while the receptionist was figuring out how many thousands of dollars she would owe.
She'd lost count the amount of times the reality of how insane this was had hit her. It didn't matter if it was insane anymore, she had nothing else to do but move on ahead, do what Shawn had suggested before she had left for Pennsylvania.
She flipped through the pages of the comic quickly until she reached the last page. She swallowed softly, fighting down the this is impossible that wanted to spill out.
Surreal was much more fitting, anyway.
She shook her head and turned to look out at the streets of Manhattan determinedly. Next stop: 215 Reed Street, #7.
She just hoped Peter had listened to her, and made it in time to help, or this would be more than one kind of dead end.
--
He was awake the next time someone came in. His wrists had been hurting far too much to sleep anyway. The sun had finished setting, his throat was parched, and his mood couldn't have been any sourer if he'd spent this whole time in the rain.
Given his dehydration, he'd have preferred that.
A light flipped on to his left, and Peter approached him with a glass of water and a straw.
"I suppose you expect a 'thank you'?" He grumbled, glaring at the man. "You're still not getting one."
"Do you want the drink or not?" Peter replied irritably, shoving the drink under his nose.
Isaac continued to glare at the man as he bit down on the straw. He was midly surprised when the water was cold--and if it had any funny taste to it, he couldn't notice through the simple fact that it was cold, wet, and refreshing.
"You hate me, I hate you." Peter deadpanned. "Have we established that? Good."
Under any other circumstances, Isaac would have spit the water at the man's face.
"Since you ended up here against my wishes..." Peter continued, ignoring Isaac's wilting look. "I can't exactly throw you out. It would go against my duty as a nurse."
He snerked. A male nurse--he'd almost forgotten that.
Peter glared, taking away the cup and placing it on a nightstand. "You're leaving here, tommorow."
"Good."
"Good, then Nathan won't have to throw you out on your ass." Peter snarked. "Mother will pack you some things, and you're leaving on the first plane to Paris."
It was fortunate he wasn't still drinking, as he would have choked the water all over himself.
"Its a private plane." Peter said, checking Isaac's bandaged wrists, before making an annoyed sound. "If you rip these open because you can't sit still, I'm not stitching them closed again."
"Why Paris?"
Peter didn't look up as he moved to check his ankles. "Its cheaper than two flights."
He narrowed his eyes.
"You'll have a place to stay until your recovered. What you do after that, I don't care."
"What, am I going to have to suffer your company in Paris, too?"
Peter levelled a flat look on him. "No. You'll be leaving with my neice, Claire."
CH End
------
AN: Okay, so not so much answered this chapter, either. Peter didn't cooperate so much with me. But, onward and upward! What will MacKenzie find in Isaac's loft? Will Isaac and Peter make it through the night without strangling each other? And what does Claire think about this new 'arrangement'?