Contingency 7/? (Claire/Isaac hiatus fic Heroes/Incidental Heroes)
Title: Contingency
Rating: R
Spoilers: Up to The Hard Part, 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.
Previous Chapters
Disclaimer: Mm. I'd make How To...at least a two hour special if I owned Heroes.
AN: Another quick update! Yay! The plot's trying to run away with itself!
--
Contingency
Chapter Seven
MacKenzie swallowed softly, rubbing her open palms on her jeans as she approached the doorway. She couldn't see anyone through the windows, but the door was left open.
Everything in her said to turn back right now, or she was going to see a sight that she was not going to un-see for a very long time. Except...
She'd tried to summon up Isaac the entire trip--just in case. Granted, she was not exactly good at what she did, but...
She pushed the door open further with one hand, taking in the decimated room in front of her. "Hello...?"
She frowned softly when there was no reply. "...I feel like Hiro again..." She mumbled to herself with a laugh. "...Except..."
She cut off as her eyes fell on the pools of blood and paint marring the mural. A hand flew to her mouth as bile rose to her throat. "Oh god..."
The was a trail of blood leading up to the steps she stood in front of, but it did not seem to lead anywhere but where the...stains...were. "I'm..."
Too late. Isaac and Hiro were gone.
But...wasn't the bomb supposed to be in a few days? In fact, wasn't it supposed to have gone off while Hiro was there? Had the bomb been stopped without her help at all?
She took a few steps forward, careful to avoid the blood, and shook her head. "I failed..."
A crash behind her shocked a scream out of her, and she spun on her heel toward the door.
Two short oriental men rushed into the doorway she had just come through, the one in front gleefully scanning the room. "Mister Isaac?!"
"...Hiro?"
The man--Hiro Nakamura, the Hiro, as in from the actual show--looked down at her in confusion. "Who...are you?"
--
Claire frowned up at her uncle. "I saw what you have up there."
"Claire..." Peter crossed his arms, for a moment she thought he was going to say something condescending like 'you shouldn't have gone up there', as if she needed some sort of protection. Instead he shook his head with a sigh. "Isaac is not a 'what'. He's a painter who narrowly escaped Sylar."
The sound of that name, the one who killed her friend--who tried to kill her--almost caused a shudder to run through her. "So...so what's he doing here."
Peter made an annoyed sound. "Mom thinks we should hide him from Sylar--take him to Paris."
"What? Is her answer for everything in another country?"
Peter frowned. "No. It's just..." He trailed off a moment, before shaking his head. "Here, come on, you're gonna have to learn how to change bandages."
"What?"
--
His bandages itched. More accurately, his wrists and ankles throbbed, and in between that, itched like hell. Whether that was the effect of pain medicine, the lack of it, or perhaps his grogginess, he was not sure.
But what he wouldn't give for some itching cream about now. And while he was wishing for things, a clock would be nice. And some soda. Or a miracle cure.
Yeah. A miracle cure would be nice.
His thoughts were interrupted when the door burst open, admitting two bickering figures.
"--like I'm wearing white scrubs to you?!" A young voice hissed.
He squinted against the early morning light filtering through the boards. Peter. And that cheerleader. Peter looked annoyed, and she looked royally pissed off.
He suppressed a groan. What now?
"What, am I part of the tour now?" Isaac said dryly.
"Shut up, Isaac." Peter snapped, before wheeling on the girl. "I don't like this anymore than you do! It has to be this way, alright?"
"What about our destiny, huh? I thought I was 'supposed' to be here?"
"It doesn't matter now." Peter replied irritably, walking up to where Isaac watched only half-interested. The cheerleader followed after him, studiously looking only at Peter.
Isaac sighed in frustration. "What the hell, Peter?"
Peter favored him with a sour glare. "Look. If Claire's the one going with you, she's got to learn how to change these."
"Great. I get to entrust myself to a kid."
"You want to end up with gangrene? Because I'll be more than happy to throw you out in the alleyway and let you rot." Peter growled, tugging on one of the bandages a good deal harder than necessary.
Isaac gritted his teeth against the sharp pain, but did not reply. He chose instead to glare at both the man and his tag-along cheerleading neice. When'd the cheerleader get to be his neice, anyway?
That was just freakish.
--
Peter turned and walked out of the room the moment he stepped into it. Nathan and his mother called after him, but he simply grabbed Claire's arm and ushered her faster down the hallway.
No way. No way, was he going to expose Claire to Linderman. Not a chance. His mother feels a rare moment of generosity or guilt, and wants to ship Isaac off to a spare home in Paris? Fine. Nathan demands his daughter be the one to take care of the renegade artist? Who was he to say no?
But there was no way in hell he was letting Linderman at Claire for whatever machinations he had.
"Peter, stop!" His brother called after him in the hallway.
He spun to glare at Nathan, Claire yanked her arm free with a disgruntled look. "You're not involving Claire with that mob boss, Nathan."
Nathan sighed, walking toward him. "What's wrong with you, Peter?"
"What's wrong with you?" Peter countered, making no attempt to conceal his disgust at his older brother's actions. "She's your daughter, Nathan! Your daughter!"
Nathan grabbed his shoulders, pinning him in place with a steadying look. "I'm not letting Linderman at Claire, Peter. Get ahold of yourself."
Peter frowned. "Then why else is he here? Why didn't you warn her?"
Nathan closed his eyes a moment, as he often did when he felt his 'little brother' was being irrational. "He's here about the man you elected to stash in my attic, Peter."
"Isaac? Why? Why would he be interested in Isaac?"
"Oh, that's simple, Peter." The snowy white hair of the man who's very name was a bitter taste on Peter's mouth walked up the hallway, an innocent look on his face. "You see, I'm a fan of his work, and I'd very much like to meet him."
CH END
---
AN: Oy. ANOTHER short chapter. Its a disease!
Rating: R
Spoilers: Up to The Hard Part, 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.
Previous Chapters
Disclaimer: Mm. I'd make How To...at least a two hour special if I owned Heroes.
AN: Another quick update! Yay! The plot's trying to run away with itself!
--
Contingency
Chapter Seven
MacKenzie swallowed softly, rubbing her open palms on her jeans as she approached the doorway. She couldn't see anyone through the windows, but the door was left open.
Everything in her said to turn back right now, or she was going to see a sight that she was not going to un-see for a very long time. Except...
She'd tried to summon up Isaac the entire trip--just in case. Granted, she was not exactly good at what she did, but...
She pushed the door open further with one hand, taking in the decimated room in front of her. "Hello...?"
She frowned softly when there was no reply. "...I feel like Hiro again..." She mumbled to herself with a laugh. "...Except..."
She cut off as her eyes fell on the pools of blood and paint marring the mural. A hand flew to her mouth as bile rose to her throat. "Oh god..."
The was a trail of blood leading up to the steps she stood in front of, but it did not seem to lead anywhere but where the...stains...were. "I'm..."
Too late. Isaac and Hiro were gone.
But...wasn't the bomb supposed to be in a few days? In fact, wasn't it supposed to have gone off while Hiro was there? Had the bomb been stopped without her help at all?
She took a few steps forward, careful to avoid the blood, and shook her head. "I failed..."
A crash behind her shocked a scream out of her, and she spun on her heel toward the door.
Two short oriental men rushed into the doorway she had just come through, the one in front gleefully scanning the room. "Mister Isaac?!"
"...Hiro?"
The man--Hiro Nakamura, the Hiro, as in from the actual show--looked down at her in confusion. "Who...are you?"
--
Claire frowned up at her uncle. "I saw what you have up there."
"Claire..." Peter crossed his arms, for a moment she thought he was going to say something condescending like 'you shouldn't have gone up there', as if she needed some sort of protection. Instead he shook his head with a sigh. "Isaac is not a 'what'. He's a painter who narrowly escaped Sylar."
The sound of that name, the one who killed her friend--who tried to kill her--almost caused a shudder to run through her. "So...so what's he doing here."
Peter made an annoyed sound. "Mom thinks we should hide him from Sylar--take him to Paris."
"What? Is her answer for everything in another country?"
Peter frowned. "No. It's just..." He trailed off a moment, before shaking his head. "Here, come on, you're gonna have to learn how to change bandages."
"What?"
--
His bandages itched. More accurately, his wrists and ankles throbbed, and in between that, itched like hell. Whether that was the effect of pain medicine, the lack of it, or perhaps his grogginess, he was not sure.
But what he wouldn't give for some itching cream about now. And while he was wishing for things, a clock would be nice. And some soda. Or a miracle cure.
Yeah. A miracle cure would be nice.
His thoughts were interrupted when the door burst open, admitting two bickering figures.
"--like I'm wearing white scrubs to you?!" A young voice hissed.
He squinted against the early morning light filtering through the boards. Peter. And that cheerleader. Peter looked annoyed, and she looked royally pissed off.
He suppressed a groan. What now?
"What, am I part of the tour now?" Isaac said dryly.
"Shut up, Isaac." Peter snapped, before wheeling on the girl. "I don't like this anymore than you do! It has to be this way, alright?"
"What about our destiny, huh? I thought I was 'supposed' to be here?"
"It doesn't matter now." Peter replied irritably, walking up to where Isaac watched only half-interested. The cheerleader followed after him, studiously looking only at Peter.
Isaac sighed in frustration. "What the hell, Peter?"
Peter favored him with a sour glare. "Look. If Claire's the one going with you, she's got to learn how to change these."
"Great. I get to entrust myself to a kid."
"You want to end up with gangrene? Because I'll be more than happy to throw you out in the alleyway and let you rot." Peter growled, tugging on one of the bandages a good deal harder than necessary.
Isaac gritted his teeth against the sharp pain, but did not reply. He chose instead to glare at both the man and his tag-along cheerleading neice. When'd the cheerleader get to be his neice, anyway?
That was just freakish.
--
Peter turned and walked out of the room the moment he stepped into it. Nathan and his mother called after him, but he simply grabbed Claire's arm and ushered her faster down the hallway.
No way. No way, was he going to expose Claire to Linderman. Not a chance. His mother feels a rare moment of generosity or guilt, and wants to ship Isaac off to a spare home in Paris? Fine. Nathan demands his daughter be the one to take care of the renegade artist? Who was he to say no?
But there was no way in hell he was letting Linderman at Claire for whatever machinations he had.
"Peter, stop!" His brother called after him in the hallway.
He spun to glare at Nathan, Claire yanked her arm free with a disgruntled look. "You're not involving Claire with that mob boss, Nathan."
Nathan sighed, walking toward him. "What's wrong with you, Peter?"
"What's wrong with you?" Peter countered, making no attempt to conceal his disgust at his older brother's actions. "She's your daughter, Nathan! Your daughter!"
Nathan grabbed his shoulders, pinning him in place with a steadying look. "I'm not letting Linderman at Claire, Peter. Get ahold of yourself."
Peter frowned. "Then why else is he here? Why didn't you warn her?"
Nathan closed his eyes a moment, as he often did when he felt his 'little brother' was being irrational. "He's here about the man you elected to stash in my attic, Peter."
"Isaac? Why? Why would he be interested in Isaac?"
"Oh, that's simple, Peter." The snowy white hair of the man who's very name was a bitter taste on Peter's mouth walked up the hallway, an innocent look on his face. "You see, I'm a fan of his work, and I'd very much like to meet him."
CH END
---
AN: Oy. ANOTHER short chapter. Its a disease!