Three's Company fic: Substitutes (Claire/West/Nathan, Heroes oneshot)
Title: Substitutes
Rating: R
Spoilers: Up to 2x04 - Kindness of Strangers
Pairings: Claire/West, Claire/Nathan, hints of Claire/Zach and possibly Claire/Peter and Nathan/Peter
Characters: Claire, West, Nathan
Genre: Romance, smut, angst
Warnings: Smut, Canon relationship(s), underageness...sort of dubcon? Depending on how you look at it?
Summary: Substitutes just never quite compare to the real thing.
'Yeah, well its pretty high up on the list of times not to wear geeky underwear, too.''>
Disclaimer: As long as West exists, you can rest assured that I do not own Heroes.
AN: I've been wanting to do a fic like this for awhile, and the challenge just gave me the opportunity, really. Mildly surprising...this fic was extremely hard for me. I couldn't sit down and fic forever, due to just...endless stresses. Plus, I wasn't sure if this quite fit the bill.
Anyway. Here we go.
---
Substitutes
The breeze in her face was much warmer than she would have expected it to be. But then, her experience with moving 'free' through the air consisted of lazy autumn afternoons in Texas, and falling from oil rigs. She supposed that it made sense for controlled horizontal flight to be different from uncontrolled vertical falling.
The feeling was pleasant, aside from the slightly nauseating thought that the only thing keeping her in moving forward instead of downward, were the arms around her waist and knees. It was hardly a thought she was going to allow to bother her, however, as the entire idea of someone flying her away from her troubles to a remote island was far too wonderful to worry. If push came to shove, she could regenerate, anyway.
But the view! The view was incredible. Azure waves rippling beneath them, monolithic rock formations towered above tiny island out croppings, just barely out of reach, and if she squinted hard enough, she swore she could see fish swimming through the channels below.
It was breathtaking, and only served to exemplify how strange it was to be living so close to the ocean now. If her brief stint in New York City could have counted as 'living' there, she had never considered seeing the ocean when she was living next to it last time.
Then again, she hadn't really thought about it here, either. Of course, her life didn't often make time for romantic strolls on the beach, did it?
She smiled to herself, as sand crunched under her feet, and her escort let her onto the small island he had shown her the weekend before. It was tiny--barely enough room for them and maybe another couple to sit comfortably, but the rocks jutting into the sky made a comfortable arch of shade against the sun, and the smell of sea-salt was strong enough to taste.
A cool breeze brushed across her shoulders, as she sat down, and a bird she could not make out circled high in the sky--higher than she had been moments ago.
She rested her head against her companion's shoulder. The islands they had passed by were littered all around them, but she could not see the shore they had come from. It was quiet, serene, and absolutely beautiful.
"This is perfect."
He gave her a boyish grin. "I was hoping you'd say that."
"See, I told you your power was cooler." She flashed him a coy smile. "Its great for making sure the parentals can't find you."
"No, no. Yours is definitely still the coolest." He insisted, amusement thick in his voice. "Like, you're can walk all the way back from here!"
"I am not going to walk underwater." She said with mock-seriousness.
"Aw, come on--I'll keep your clothes dry!"
"West!" She punched him on the shoulder, breaking down into giggles.
It was easy to just let go with him, become the person she used to be, and forget all of her worries and troubles. It was easy around him to forget how much she missed home, missed Peter. When she was with him, she didn't have to think about the fact that, after everything that happened, after he reappeared, broken and haggard, she couldn't even call the one other person in the world she didn't have to hide from. He was there instead, and she wouldn't dare to hope for anything else.
"Besides." She added in a calmer voice. "I'm not...I do die. I just...come back."
"Claire..." A hand brushed stray locks of hair away from her face, and the young man leaned close. "I told you. I don't want to ever see you hurt."
She smiled softly over at him. "Then stop daring me to jump off of national landmarks."
"Hey, I caught you, didn't I?" His grin was playful now. "How am I supposed to make it up to you?"
"I dunno...can't you think of anything?"
He huffed slightly, and made a show of thinking for a few moments, before smiling down at her. "Well, there's always this..."
He finished his statement by leaning down and pressing a chaste kiss against her lips. She couldn't have called it a surprise by any measurement. It was how they played their game, always the same. Except of course, this time was not quite the same. They hadn't gone out to find a secluded island purely for the view--Hollywood kind of beat out any other view.
She wasn't nervous, though, as his hand slipped down from her chin to her neck, exploring as tentatively as his kiss was gentle. She had been through this sort of thing before. Although that time had been all rushes hands and the smell of cheap liqueur and the circumstances or result not nearly as pleasant.
"I'm not going to break, you know." She said finally, breaking away from the kiss, and trying not to look too pouty. "You don't have to be so careful."
He smiled reassuringly at her. "I know you won't, Claire, but I don't want to be someone who just gropes and takes."
"You're not."
He grinned. "I know."
He wasn't so hesitant this time. Awkward and graceless, as he attempted and failed to undo the knot in her shirt? Very much. But it wasn't as if she could boast great experience, either. Her last encounter hadn't gotten far enough for any unclothing to have taken place--thankfully. Besides, it fit him and his slightly goofy, honest persona.
He gave up after a moment, with a look of comic surrender, and shrugged off his own shirt instead, before giving her a half-serious look. "This is why girls shouldn't wear such fancy clothes."
She snorted, pausing in the undoing of her shirt. "You talk too much."
"Oh yeah?" He placed an arm around her, guiding her flat against the sand. The grains dug into her skin, but she pushed it out of her mind. She wouldn't need to worry about them long, after all. "I guess I picked it up from you."
"Its not my fault you never leave me alone."
He shook his head. "Shut up."
Her breath hitched slightly as he maneuvered a knee over her, and sat down on her waist, with a silly expression on his face. "You're gorgeous, you know."
"Hey, it's not fair to tell me to shut up and then keep on talking."
"I'm a rule breaker."
She really couldn't say she minded all that much, because even if he was as awkward and clueless about this as she was, his incessant small talk must have given him plenty practice, anyway.
She closed her eyes against the sun, and leaned into his touch, where his hands glided along her exposed skin, and his mouth left wet kisses along her neck and collar. She felt sedentary, just lying on the sand and taking what he would give, so braved her hands up to grip his wiry arms. She didn't open her eyes just yet, though, it seemed like the moment was best spent with ones eyes closed.
His hands were on the buckle of her shorts, working with more success than their last clothing assignment. A stray thought occurred to her, that she probably should have brought along an iPod--just for thematic music. They could have shared it.
Her meandering train of thought skidded to a halt as her denim jeans were jerked free from her, and a pair of thumbs pressed gently into her thighs. Despite her determination not to laze about during his administration, her hands hadn't actually done anything since latching onto his biceps. The shiver that followed his meandering trail along the pathways of her inner thighs sent them scrambling northward, to his shoulders.
She wished she didn't looks so much like a nervous schoolgirl, but it might have helped to not be a nervous schoolgirl, first.
"Open your eyes, Claire."
She shook her head quickly. It made sense, really, opening her eyes, but she didn't want to. That part didn't make so much sense, but...
"Trust me, Claire."
She bit her lip, and willed her eyes to open. He was still smiling that reassuring little smile he so loved to use. She didn't need to look, to know his hands were on her hips. He still wore his slacks, and she still had her bra tightly on.
She figured, on the scale of most sensual scenes, this probably ranked pretty low.
"Are you alright?"
She nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine."
"We don't have to do this, you know." His expression, for once, was almost unreadable.
"N-no, it's...it's alright."
He frowned slightly, but nodded, and pressed a kiss against her lips again. She moved determinedly to work on his slacks. She could do it, and she would. With him, it was always easy to let go, to forget. With him, she didn't need to remember, because he could become everything good that her memories had. With him...with him he was everything she could never have, never touch, never see again.
He embodied all of them, Peter's concern, Zach's quirky cheerfulness, and Nathan's single minded determinedness. He was like her, he understood...and...
"You can fly?"
He shrugged slightly, as if every other person happened to be able to fly through the sky, free as a bird, without a care, and pluck people off of rooftops.
Her...biological father could fly.
She couldn't help a slight smile, of pride or fascination she wasn't certain. "That's cool."
She swallowed softly, choosing to study the blue sky above them, rather than meet her partner's eyes. Slacks. She had to get those out of the way if they were going to get anywhere. She frowned down at the dark cloth pants, struggling to push them past his waist. A few wriggles on his part, and they finally slid down out of her reach.
She snorted. "Superman boxers?"
"Heyy. Don't you think they're fitting?" He had his goofy smile again.
She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, whatever. You just lost so many cool points, its not even funny."
He made a face. "Aww, Superman's not good enough for Miss Lizard?"
"More like Superboy."
He stuck his tongue out at her. "Gecko Girl."
"I'm not a hard drive."
He smiled affectionately at her, leaning his shoulder on the locker door. "No. You're Miss Miracle-Grow."
She slammed her locker door shut with a huff. His running commentary and bizarre commentary wasn't helping. He was just...supposed to agree with her that it didn't matter and didn't happen. "Don't ever call me that again."
He rolled his eyes, and if it were any other situation, she probably would have laughed at the absurdity of it all.
"Hey, I know its been awhile, but I'm not that bad, am I?"
"No, no...it's not that..."
"If you don't want to--"
"I told you I do, so quit asking me."
He frowned a moment, before shaking his head and pressing a quick kiss against her lips. He fiddled with her bra a few moments, before snorting, and shaking his head. "You see, this is why you need to invest in front-clasping bras."
"I have some!" She flushed slightly. "I just didn't wear them this time."
"You know, on the list of 'best times to wear easily accessible clothes', this is pretty high up on it."
"Yeah, well its pretty high up on the list of 'times not to wear geeky underwear', too." She retorted with a smirk, "Didn't stop you."
"That cuts me deep, Claire."
She rolled her eyes, and struggled a moment to get her hands to the bra clasps. It was a bit harder when she was being pinned down by a thoroughly amused boy, who seemed to have no intention of lending her any aid.
"See what I mean, Claire?"
"Oh, shut up."
"Mature."
"You're one to talk."
"You know, I don't recall being the one to call cutting off your toe a pedicure."
"Then you obviously have never been to see a real pedicurist."
"Nope...I'm afraid I haven't seen the need to pay someone else to clip my nails for me." His smile was suffocatingly smug. "But then again, if you're prone to cutting your toe off, I can understand why you need professional help."
"You wouldn't be able to get near enough to your toes to endanger them. You have monster nails."
"They are not 'monster nails'. They're just natural."
"They could kill small animals."
It was his turn to roll his eyes. "You're just trying to cast attention on something other than the fact that you can't even get out of your own bra."
Claire made a sound of victory, as the clasp finally released, and she lifted the offensive bra into the air like a trophy. "Hah! My bra is solved. You've still got the monster nails."
"Yeah, well Mister Muggles still has your toe."
"Ew." She wrinkled her nose. "Way to ruin the mood, West!"
"You're the the one that brought it up."
"Excuse me, but you're the one that brought up my pedicuring techniques, not me."
"Your 'technique' stinks."
"Like you would know."
"Pretty much anything that ends up in amputation is a bad technique."
"Shut up."
"Very creative, Claire."
"Are we talking...or what?"
He scoffed, and ruffled her hair. "Cute."
"Oh, come on, my Dad calls me cute, West."
"Okay, its not me ruining the mood, this time."
She heard a slight crunching of sand near her head, before another voice intruded into their cozy scene. "Do you have a problem with parental figures?"
There was a screech she hoped hadn't come from her, and then she was scrambling to her feet, clutching her shirt to her chest, and only dimly aware of West standing up beside her. None of that really mattered, though, because she must have smacked her head on the ground or something...because...she was obviously hallucinating.
Obviously. She was hallucinating, and when she shook her head and her head fixed itself, he would be gone. Except for the fact that he wasn't gone, and didn't look like he was going anywhere anytime soon.
"Nathan...?" Her voice was embarrassingly high, and full of disbelief.
"You know him?" West frowned slightly, before turning an accusing stare at the specter in front of her.
Nathan's gaze turned critical, as he examined the slim figure of West, before an amused expression crossed his face. "Is this really the best the Pacific has to offer?"
She didn't get a chance to come up with a reply, however, as he crossed the short distance between them, and engulfed her into one of his bear-like hugs. The kind that seemed too big for her, and threatened to swallow her completely. They always scared her a bit, made her uneasy, and she wasn't sure if it was because of their difference in size, or because it always felt fake, like a part of his show he was obligated to complete.
"Claire..." His voice was thick with pain, and she felt him squeeze her shoulders gently. This hug felt less stiff than all the others, like he'd given up on acting. Maybe he had, after all, he had thrown away everything after Peter....
She'd never really held a gun before. It was heavier than they looked in the movies, and warm from her father's hand. The unbalanced weight couldn't fully account for the way her hand shook, as she lifted it.
Tears blurred her vision, obscuring what few features she could still have made out through the blinding light that was emanating from the one standing only a few feet away from her. She thought she could discern a hopeful expression even still, but it could have been her imagination gone wild.
"Please..." Her voice sounded distorted and pathetic, and completely broken. She shook her head, willing herself to continue, drawing determination from somewhere she never knew she had. "Please...tell me there's another way!"
She never really believed he could have answered any differently than he did. He wouldn't have been Peter, he wouldn't have been her hero if he had.
Her eyes burned as she buried her face in his worn tux, and she clutched the front of her jacket. She wouldn't cry. Not again, not anymore. All of that...that was months behind her, and a lifetime she had left behind. It hurt...but it was over, and she wouldn't cry anymore.
But now he was here, somehow out of the ether, the one person in the world that understood everything they had went through was here. And now nothing seemed right anymore.
"I miss him, too." His voice is soft and gravelly, and threatens to break something inside of her.
The moment passed mercifully quickly, as West spoke up again.
"Who are you? How did you get here?"
Nathan glanced over at West, as Claire extracted herself from his grip. She felt herself flush slightly, but she quickly squashed the feeling. It wasn't as if she'd forgotten he was there or anything...Nathan had been the one to hug her.
"Umm...This is, um..." She lifted a hand in introduction. "My bio-dad."
West didn't quite gape, but he took a few moments before finally speaking. "Right. So you regrow toes, and he...appears randomly at the worst possible times?"
She frowned. "Er..."
"I went to your house...but your...Bennet said you were out. Luckily, he knew someone who could find you." He gestured vaguely east. "So I went back to ask her, then came all the way back out here. There wasn't a whole lot of time to plan a grand entrance."
She blinked. "You went...back and forth? Twice? I mean...couldn't you have called, or something?"
"Your phone was off."
"Oh." She shifted uncomfortably. "Um..."
"I wanted...to apologize, Claire." His expression was soft, and his dark eyes seemed saddened. "For everything. I wasn't there for you when I should have been. I let myself get caught up in something, and I let everyone important to me, everyone I cared about drift away."
She shrugged slightly, forcing a smile. "You said it yourself...the election was important. I got that. Peter did, too."
He closed his eyes a moment, before shaking his head, and regarding her with a regretful expression. "I chose the election over too many things. I lost Peter because of it. I almost lost everything. I don't want to lose you, too, Claire."
She shrugged, slightly. "You won't."
He offered a hand. "Let me do this right, this time."
She chewed her lip, and glanced over at West, who looked understandably put-out, and still confused about the entire turn of events.
"I realize this is a bad time..."
"No, no." West spoke up again, shaking his head and shrugging. "Far be it from me to keep Lizard Girl from her Teleporting Dad."
She sighed softly. "West...he doesn't teleport..." This wasn't exactly how she had envisioned telling him that he wasn't the first person she'd known that could fly... "He, um...flies."
"What?"
"Yeah, um...I was kinda waiting for a good time to tell you..."
"Wait, you fly" West frowned. "Like, through the air?"
Nathan arched an eyebrow. "As opposed to...?"
"No, no...I mean." He shook his head. "That Indian guy...he theorized this might be possible. But, you know...it was in a part reserved for the wild theories...in a wildly theoretical book."
"Flight?"
"Erm..." Claire shifted from to foot to foot. "West flies, too. Kind've how we got here..."
"Well, at least it didn't involve using you as a boat."
"Why would you even think that?" She shook her head slightly, before glancing at West. "West..."
"Hey, you know...just...go." He waved them off, before grinning slightly. "Next time we're going to...the arctic circle, or something."
She gave an almost imperceptible nod, and reached out to take the hand that was once more outstretched. A quick pull, and she was in his arms again, held tightly around the waist, hands flat against his chest.
He gave her a tight smile. "Hold on."
She nodded, and placed her hands on his shoulders.
"Ready?"
"You ready?"
She'd never seen anything move so fast, disappearing into the night sky before she fully processed that this would be the last time she would see them. Her heart tightened in her chest, a swell of pride and wonder.
Her father could fly. He could fly faster than any cheesy superhero movie she had ever seen. Tears burned her eyes, and she wished she could have asked him to take her for a flight. Just one, somewhere, it didn't matter where.
The gust of warm wind graced her cheeks like a gentle goodbye, as the night lit up in a beautiful display of color and light. The vague presence of someone behind her barely registered to her, as she absorbed every second of the display. The last moments she would ever have of her hero. Her heroes' last sacrifice.
She wanted to cry, as the light faded into the night as if it had never been. She wanted to weep, to breakdown and grieve enough for every person that they saved, who would never know. Nothing would come. The suffocating emptiness of it all choked any tears before they could ever form.
They were gone forever.
Her Heroes.
"Yeah."
A gasp of air escaped her, and she was zipping through the air without even time for acceleration. She had read somewhere that she should be feeling excruciating crushing pressure...for a reason she couldn't recall. All she could feel was his arms around her waist, and a wild breeze through her hair.
She looked up at him in askance, and he shook his head. "I don't know."
She did not ask anymore questions, instead turning her head to watch the clouds and patches of differently colored ground zooming past, far beneath them. She had refused to sit in the window seat on the way back from New York, and been to tired to watch anything from Texas, but she doubted that those would have been comparable to the sight presented to her now.
Soon, however, they were descending, and before she quite knew it, she was standing on warm metal. Her breath caught in her throat, as he hesitantly released her, and she took in the view afforded from their perch.
"You..."
He looked mildly abashed. "I couldn't really...I suppose it's not the most impressive place to go..."
Tears threatened to burn her eyes once more. "It's perfect."
She walked up to the guardrail in a half-daze, gazing down at the compacted dirt some twelve feet below her. If they went down to the ground, she was sure they would found scraps of cloth, or remnants of blood stains even now. "How did you know about this place?"
"A friend of yours mentioned it."
Tears did blur her gaze now, as she nodded.
"Claire! Oh my God, CLAIRE!"
Through the haze of pain that clouded her mind, she was vaguely aware of hurried footsteps approaching her. Every part of her body was screaming for attention, rushing to inform her brain of every dislocated limb, every torn artery, and every shattered bone. She was almost disappointed as she already felt bones crunching back together, and veins sealing themselves.
"Claire, are you alright?!"
She pushed herself to her feet, ignoring the snapping and popping that accompanied her movements. Her gaze was steady and determined as she watched the mini camcorder that had recorded her short flight. She didn't know quite why she did it, but she told herself that one day this would pass, one day this would be all she had left of this time--a morbid memory collection. She told herself that sometime soon, she would show these to her parents--her real parents--and they would tell her that it was alright, that she was normal, and didn't have to be a freak anymore.
"This is Claire Bennet, and that was attempt number five.
"Claire." A hand appeared on her shoulder, and Nathan was standing next to her, leaning on the railing.
"I used to jump off this, you know." Her voice was an inch away from deadpan. "I thought...'Maybe this time I'll figure out', you know? 'Maybe this time, all this will make sense. Maybe if I do it enough, it'll stop."
"Claire..."
She shook her head, weak smile on her lips. "I'm past that now. I think I understand it. You and Peter showed me why we have this...this power, or whatever you want to call it. I don't want to hide who I am anymore, or pretend I'm something I'm not."
Nathan nodded softly, knitting his fingers together on the bar. "Peter always felt we had this for a reason. Maybe we do. I don't know."
"If it wasn't for Peter, I'd be dead." She said quietly, gaze falling to the dirt again.
His lips quirked into a small, wistful smile. "If it wasn't for Peter, so would I."
She looked up from the ground to him. "I used to dream of bringing my family here. Being able to show them what I can do." Gain their approval, and maybe even their love.
"You don't have to prove anything to me, Claire."
"Why did you really come to find me?"
He was quiet a few moments, just watching her. "I told you. I want to do this right. I want to answer your questions. I want to be here for you this time."
She shook her head, turning to watch the fields of dried up oil. "I already have a father."
"I know." His voice was quiet. "He's a good man."
"I know."
"It's...you don't have to ask anything." He was watching the empty fields alongside her, now. "I just wanted to make the option open."
She smiled. "What was she like, when you met her?"
"Merideth?" He gave a sigh that might have been nostalgic. "She was beautiful. Vivacious, blonde...chain smoker."
"Guess some things don't change."
He laughed, shrugging slightly. "She couldn't cook to save her life. But she was kind, compassionate, and thoughtful...in her own, ditzy way."
She snorted, then. "My mother was a ditz?"
He shrugged. "Teenage act, mostly." His expression was far-off, as if he were lost in memories. "I was in love with her, once. Genuine, real love."
She turned her head slightly, to watch him. She didn't regret the fact that she was adopted. She was, and always would be, a Bennet. That didn't mean she couldn't wonder, though, what it might've been like, if not for the fire. "Why?"
He gave a heavy sigh. "I had commitments. I was a Naval officer, moving on up in the world, and my father..."
She nodded. "I get it."
"Claire...I didn't...It's not your--"
"It's alright, you know?" She shrugged. "I guess I'm glad you did. If you were there, in the fire..."
"Don't."
"Do you still..."
"Love her?" He frowned softly. "I thought she was dead."
"That's not an answer."
"Maybe." He seemed introspective. "Some, yes. But...between us...its over. She's moved on, and so have I."
She nodded. "You've got Heidi."
He gave a chuckle. "Yeah. Maybe."
She frowned over at him in concern. Had Heidi...? She had seen her in a wheelchair, but Peter never said anything implying she was sickly...
"She's fine." Nathan said with a shrug. "Better now, than she's been in years, in fact."
"What's wrong?"
"We all lost that night. Everything."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be." He looked...for just a few moments, there was a hopelessness in his eyes that mirrored the voice she had heard over the phone not long ago. "She's happy where she is, so are the boys. It's better this way. I understand that."
She reached a hand over to place over his, watching his expression. His features were harsh and angular, grown and weathered by a life without absolutes or trust. Even through that, however, she could see the resemblances between he and Peter.
He watched her scrutiny in silence for a long moment, before finally speaking again. "You look a lot like your mother, you know. Same hair."
She rolled her eyes, and almost made a snide remark about bleaching. Instead, on a quick urge, she leaned up on her toes to press a careful, lingering kiss on his lips.
He stared down at her, apparently struggling with speech. "Claire?"
"I already have a dad, I don't want another one."
He nodded hesitantly, feigned understanding in his expression.
She grabbed his other hand, turning him toward her. "I don't need another father."
He said nothing, but seemed to understand what she meant. Which was fortunate, because she wasn't really sure how else to phrase it. His eye reflected hesitance and uncertainty, as they stood silhouetted in the Texan sunset, hands and arms intertwined. The moment was identical to thousands of romantic cards issued by companies year-round, although the location was unorthodox.
The moment lasted only as long as any other moment would, before he finally leaned down and pressed his mouth over hers. His lips were not as full as the others that she had kissed, but they were soft and warm, and as she leaned into the kiss, nudging carefully with the tip of her tongue for entrance, his taste was sweet and tangy.
His hands slipped free of hers, and slid across her bare abdomen. The contact of his skin on hers made her jump in surprise, and he nearly pulled away.She smiled reassuringly at him, and pulled his hands back toward her.
"Kind of forgot about...you know."
"Sorry." He said with a shrug.
She laughed. "Guess it doesn't matter now."
He lifted her up by her hips, and propped her up on the railing. It was a little bit tricky, but she managed to balance herself on the bar without holding onto him for support. A playful smirk played across her face. "I think you've got way too much of an advantage here."
He arched an eyebrow. "And I was going to consider it a head start by you."
"Don't blame it on me."
"Well if its unsettling you..." he shrugged the jacket off.
"Wait."
He froze.
"Let me."
He seemed to consider it a moment, before nodding.
She reached a hand out almost warily, brushing her fingertips along threadbare silk. The buttons were warm and small, and it seemed like every button took two minutes to undo. His skin was pale and firm, with a few light chest hairs curling across it. She hated looking fascinated, as she pushed the thin fabric off of his shoulders and onto the metal grating. Light scars traced along his arms and torso, and her fingers brushed across each in turn.
A light shiver passed across her touch, as she traced one that passed under his navel. Other than that subtle movement, he endured her exploration without a sound or twitch.
She smiled up at him. "It's perfect."
He returned her smile, and tilted her head up to kiss her once again. She couldn't make out the taste that filled her mouth, as his deft tongue outmatched her efforts in a few short seconds. It stood to reason that a man twice her age would kiss differently than a boy only a few months older than she. She just wasn't certain whether it was really that fair.
Her world was hazy and distant as her hands struggled to find purchase on the clasp of his belt, blindly working to undo the frustrating thing, and allow the weight of his pockets to drag the loose pants downward.
She broke away from his kiss, willing her breath to remain even, and swallowed softly. He was watching her with a dark, intense gaze. through half lidded eyes. Even now that she had pulled away from him slightly, his nose was only half an inch from hers, and his fingers dug into her hips possessively.
She forced a wry smirk. "I just want you to know that the whole super-flying thing is invalidated if you wear superman boxers."
He chuckled softly. "Wrong brother."
She glanced down, anyway. They were indeed nothing more than pale blue-and-white checked boxers. The flimsy material made it down to mid-thigh level, and she found her gaze traveling further southward, taking in the sight. His legs were slightly muscular, like the rest of him, and were decorated with the same sprinkling of wiry hair.
She did not have long to look, however, as she was startled out of her reverie by a warm mouth on her neck. A startled yip escaped her, and she turned an accusing stare on him.
"I don't just stand around all that often, Claire." His voice was anything but apologetic, nor was the thin smile playing across his features. "I'm a politician, not a male model."
"So its true what they say about politicians playing dirty?"
She was surprised by the flirtatious grin on his face--flirting had not been something she had ever really imagined him doing before.
"We only play dirty when asked nicely."
"Oh, now that I doubt." She laughed, and he echoed her gesture with a good-natured chuckle.
And none of this was stalling because she was terrified of taking that last step. Not at all.
He frowned softly, then. "Claire..."
"If you say 'I dont have to do this', I am going to punch you."
"Actually, I was going to say, that it's getting chilly, just standing here half dressed." He retorted wryly. "Thought I might go out and find a...blanket or something. Hot cocoa, maybe."
"Jerk."
"I've heard worse." He lifted a cautionary finger. "And before you even say it--I've flown like this before. Picked up a nice T-shirt and an eccentric Asian man on the way."
There really wasn't anything left to do but follow her impulse, and yank the hem of the shorts downward with as much firmness as she could muster. She tried very hard not to immediately look down, too. The effort proved pointless, however, as the hands at her hips slipped around to the small of her back, and he pulled her forcefully closer to where he stood, closing the inch gap between she and he.
Her breath caught in her throat, as their noses touched, and she found it quite evident that he had no intention of going anywhere for some time. She could feel herself trembling slightly, against her will, but she couldn't say she felt any fear. Surreality, sure. There was plenty of that to go around. She was pretty certain that studying his unrepentant gaze, as his rough hands discarded her last cottony piece of clothing shouldn't have increased her heartbeat as much as it did.
He looked almost as if he were going to say something again, but then shook his head slightly, and captured her mouth in an intense, breathless kiss. Her hands grasped hurriedly at his shoulders, as his arms gripped her more tightly. She thought she heard him mumble something against her lips, but her attention was quickly diverted by a plunging tongue, and nipping teeth.
She felt the pain. The same dull pain she now felt with every wound. For just a moment, she winced in reaction to the sudden intrusion of unpleasant sensations, but as most always, it faded before she could quite identify what it felt like. What was left, however, was anything but dulled.
Their lips parted as a low hiss slipped through his clenched teeth, and her heart seemed to alternate between clenching tightly and thudding rather violently in her chest. His eyes met hers, intensity and longing and what she assumed was desire melted together in his gaze, and held her in silent fascination.
She wasn't sure how long they stood there, like a lover's statue, eyes locked in each others, and arms resting gracefully on one another's form, as the sun illuminated everything in a brilliant orange glow. No words passed between them in the moment of stillness, but it seemed to her that words would only have spoiled the moment.
She smiled gently instead, and he returned her smile. Genuine and guileless. It all seemed too sappy and tender to her for the situation. Wasn't this generally the time of carnality and dirty words? Maybe she read too many books, because for all of the oddity of it, it felt just right.
And, as all moments before, it passed. She couldn't complain about its passing, however, not with the way his shifting screamed in her mind. She hoped the soft whimper that filled the air wasn't hers, and then there was not much more hoping or thinking at all. All that was left was him, and nails digging into skin, and constant measured maddening movements. Warmth washed across her, as her eyes fell into a lethargic half-gaze, remaining open surely because there would be no breaking the intensity of his stare.
A tight-lipped groan from him, and it restriction and carefulness melted away, and she was clinging to him for dear life, and his hands had special duplication powers of their own, and everything was gone in a fog of broken cries and heated thrusts. If she were capable of coherency, she would have come up with a cliche and flowery description for the experience, but as it was, all she knew was a harsh cry and a brilliant flash of colored light, and warm breath on her cheeks.
When she opened her eyes this time, it wasn't the cold of the night that greeted her, and it wasn't empty arms or a reluctant substitute that held her tight and brushed away her tears. And in his dark eyes, she finally understood. Save the Cheerleader, Save the world.
END
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AN: YES! I CAN'T BELIEVE I FINISHED THIS! WHOO HOO! It took me TWO WHOLE WEEKS TO FINISH THIS.
Rating: R
Spoilers: Up to 2x04 - Kindness of Strangers
Pairings: Claire/West, Claire/Nathan, hints of Claire/Zach and possibly Claire/Peter and Nathan/Peter
Characters: Claire, West, Nathan
Genre: Romance, smut, angst
Warnings: Smut, Canon relationship(s), underageness...sort of dubcon? Depending on how you look at it?
Summary: Substitutes just never quite compare to the real thing.
'Yeah, well its pretty high up on the list of times not to wear geeky underwear, too.''>
Disclaimer: As long as West exists, you can rest assured that I do not own Heroes.
AN: I've been wanting to do a fic like this for awhile, and the challenge just gave me the opportunity, really. Mildly surprising...this fic was extremely hard for me. I couldn't sit down and fic forever, due to just...endless stresses. Plus, I wasn't sure if this quite fit the bill.
Anyway. Here we go.
---
Substitutes
The breeze in her face was much warmer than she would have expected it to be. But then, her experience with moving 'free' through the air consisted of lazy autumn afternoons in Texas, and falling from oil rigs. She supposed that it made sense for controlled horizontal flight to be different from uncontrolled vertical falling.
The feeling was pleasant, aside from the slightly nauseating thought that the only thing keeping her in moving forward instead of downward, were the arms around her waist and knees. It was hardly a thought she was going to allow to bother her, however, as the entire idea of someone flying her away from her troubles to a remote island was far too wonderful to worry. If push came to shove, she could regenerate, anyway.
But the view! The view was incredible. Azure waves rippling beneath them, monolithic rock formations towered above tiny island out croppings, just barely out of reach, and if she squinted hard enough, she swore she could see fish swimming through the channels below.
It was breathtaking, and only served to exemplify how strange it was to be living so close to the ocean now. If her brief stint in New York City could have counted as 'living' there, she had never considered seeing the ocean when she was living next to it last time.
Then again, she hadn't really thought about it here, either. Of course, her life didn't often make time for romantic strolls on the beach, did it?
She smiled to herself, as sand crunched under her feet, and her escort let her onto the small island he had shown her the weekend before. It was tiny--barely enough room for them and maybe another couple to sit comfortably, but the rocks jutting into the sky made a comfortable arch of shade against the sun, and the smell of sea-salt was strong enough to taste.
A cool breeze brushed across her shoulders, as she sat down, and a bird she could not make out circled high in the sky--higher than she had been moments ago.
She rested her head against her companion's shoulder. The islands they had passed by were littered all around them, but she could not see the shore they had come from. It was quiet, serene, and absolutely beautiful.
"This is perfect."
He gave her a boyish grin. "I was hoping you'd say that."
"See, I told you your power was cooler." She flashed him a coy smile. "Its great for making sure the parentals can't find you."
"No, no. Yours is definitely still the coolest." He insisted, amusement thick in his voice. "Like, you're can walk all the way back from here!"
"I am not going to walk underwater." She said with mock-seriousness.
"Aw, come on--I'll keep your clothes dry!"
"West!" She punched him on the shoulder, breaking down into giggles.
It was easy to just let go with him, become the person she used to be, and forget all of her worries and troubles. It was easy around him to forget how much she missed home, missed Peter. When she was with him, she didn't have to think about the fact that, after everything that happened, after he reappeared, broken and haggard, she couldn't even call the one other person in the world she didn't have to hide from. He was there instead, and she wouldn't dare to hope for anything else.
"Besides." She added in a calmer voice. "I'm not...I do die. I just...come back."
"Claire..." A hand brushed stray locks of hair away from her face, and the young man leaned close. "I told you. I don't want to ever see you hurt."
She smiled softly over at him. "Then stop daring me to jump off of national landmarks."
"Hey, I caught you, didn't I?" His grin was playful now. "How am I supposed to make it up to you?"
"I dunno...can't you think of anything?"
He huffed slightly, and made a show of thinking for a few moments, before smiling down at her. "Well, there's always this..."
He finished his statement by leaning down and pressing a chaste kiss against her lips. She couldn't have called it a surprise by any measurement. It was how they played their game, always the same. Except of course, this time was not quite the same. They hadn't gone out to find a secluded island purely for the view--Hollywood kind of beat out any other view.
She wasn't nervous, though, as his hand slipped down from her chin to her neck, exploring as tentatively as his kiss was gentle. She had been through this sort of thing before. Although that time had been all rushes hands and the smell of cheap liqueur and the circumstances or result not nearly as pleasant.
"I'm not going to break, you know." She said finally, breaking away from the kiss, and trying not to look too pouty. "You don't have to be so careful."
He smiled reassuringly at her. "I know you won't, Claire, but I don't want to be someone who just gropes and takes."
"You're not."
He grinned. "I know."
He wasn't so hesitant this time. Awkward and graceless, as he attempted and failed to undo the knot in her shirt? Very much. But it wasn't as if she could boast great experience, either. Her last encounter hadn't gotten far enough for any unclothing to have taken place--thankfully. Besides, it fit him and his slightly goofy, honest persona.
He gave up after a moment, with a look of comic surrender, and shrugged off his own shirt instead, before giving her a half-serious look. "This is why girls shouldn't wear such fancy clothes."
She snorted, pausing in the undoing of her shirt. "You talk too much."
"Oh yeah?" He placed an arm around her, guiding her flat against the sand. The grains dug into her skin, but she pushed it out of her mind. She wouldn't need to worry about them long, after all. "I guess I picked it up from you."
"Its not my fault you never leave me alone."
He shook his head. "Shut up."
Her breath hitched slightly as he maneuvered a knee over her, and sat down on her waist, with a silly expression on his face. "You're gorgeous, you know."
"Hey, it's not fair to tell me to shut up and then keep on talking."
"I'm a rule breaker."
She really couldn't say she minded all that much, because even if he was as awkward and clueless about this as she was, his incessant small talk must have given him plenty practice, anyway.
She closed her eyes against the sun, and leaned into his touch, where his hands glided along her exposed skin, and his mouth left wet kisses along her neck and collar. She felt sedentary, just lying on the sand and taking what he would give, so braved her hands up to grip his wiry arms. She didn't open her eyes just yet, though, it seemed like the moment was best spent with ones eyes closed.
His hands were on the buckle of her shorts, working with more success than their last clothing assignment. A stray thought occurred to her, that she probably should have brought along an iPod--just for thematic music. They could have shared it.
Her meandering train of thought skidded to a halt as her denim jeans were jerked free from her, and a pair of thumbs pressed gently into her thighs. Despite her determination not to laze about during his administration, her hands hadn't actually done anything since latching onto his biceps. The shiver that followed his meandering trail along the pathways of her inner thighs sent them scrambling northward, to his shoulders.
She wished she didn't looks so much like a nervous schoolgirl, but it might have helped to not be a nervous schoolgirl, first.
"Open your eyes, Claire."
She shook her head quickly. It made sense, really, opening her eyes, but she didn't want to. That part didn't make so much sense, but...
"Trust me, Claire."
She bit her lip, and willed her eyes to open. He was still smiling that reassuring little smile he so loved to use. She didn't need to look, to know his hands were on her hips. He still wore his slacks, and she still had her bra tightly on.
She figured, on the scale of most sensual scenes, this probably ranked pretty low.
"Are you alright?"
She nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine."
"We don't have to do this, you know." His expression, for once, was almost unreadable.
"N-no, it's...it's alright."
He frowned slightly, but nodded, and pressed a kiss against her lips again. She moved determinedly to work on his slacks. She could do it, and she would. With him, it was always easy to let go, to forget. With him, she didn't need to remember, because he could become everything good that her memories had. With him...with him he was everything she could never have, never touch, never see again.
He embodied all of them, Peter's concern, Zach's quirky cheerfulness, and Nathan's single minded determinedness. He was like her, he understood...and...
"You can fly?"
He shrugged slightly, as if every other person happened to be able to fly through the sky, free as a bird, without a care, and pluck people off of rooftops.
Her...biological father could fly.
She couldn't help a slight smile, of pride or fascination she wasn't certain. "That's cool."
She swallowed softly, choosing to study the blue sky above them, rather than meet her partner's eyes. Slacks. She had to get those out of the way if they were going to get anywhere. She frowned down at the dark cloth pants, struggling to push them past his waist. A few wriggles on his part, and they finally slid down out of her reach.
She snorted. "Superman boxers?"
"Heyy. Don't you think they're fitting?" He had his goofy smile again.
She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, whatever. You just lost so many cool points, its not even funny."
He made a face. "Aww, Superman's not good enough for Miss Lizard?"
"More like Superboy."
He stuck his tongue out at her. "Gecko Girl."
"I'm not a hard drive."
He smiled affectionately at her, leaning his shoulder on the locker door. "No. You're Miss Miracle-Grow."
She slammed her locker door shut with a huff. His running commentary and bizarre commentary wasn't helping. He was just...supposed to agree with her that it didn't matter and didn't happen. "Don't ever call me that again."
He rolled his eyes, and if it were any other situation, she probably would have laughed at the absurdity of it all.
"Hey, I know its been awhile, but I'm not that bad, am I?"
"No, no...it's not that..."
"If you don't want to--"
"I told you I do, so quit asking me."
He frowned a moment, before shaking his head and pressing a quick kiss against her lips. He fiddled with her bra a few moments, before snorting, and shaking his head. "You see, this is why you need to invest in front-clasping bras."
"I have some!" She flushed slightly. "I just didn't wear them this time."
"You know, on the list of 'best times to wear easily accessible clothes', this is pretty high up on it."
"Yeah, well its pretty high up on the list of 'times not to wear geeky underwear', too." She retorted with a smirk, "Didn't stop you."
"That cuts me deep, Claire."
She rolled her eyes, and struggled a moment to get her hands to the bra clasps. It was a bit harder when she was being pinned down by a thoroughly amused boy, who seemed to have no intention of lending her any aid.
"See what I mean, Claire?"
"Oh, shut up."
"Mature."
"You're one to talk."
"You know, I don't recall being the one to call cutting off your toe a pedicure."
"Then you obviously have never been to see a real pedicurist."
"Nope...I'm afraid I haven't seen the need to pay someone else to clip my nails for me." His smile was suffocatingly smug. "But then again, if you're prone to cutting your toe off, I can understand why you need professional help."
"You wouldn't be able to get near enough to your toes to endanger them. You have monster nails."
"They are not 'monster nails'. They're just natural."
"They could kill small animals."
It was his turn to roll his eyes. "You're just trying to cast attention on something other than the fact that you can't even get out of your own bra."
Claire made a sound of victory, as the clasp finally released, and she lifted the offensive bra into the air like a trophy. "Hah! My bra is solved. You've still got the monster nails."
"Yeah, well Mister Muggles still has your toe."
"Ew." She wrinkled her nose. "Way to ruin the mood, West!"
"You're the the one that brought it up."
"Excuse me, but you're the one that brought up my pedicuring techniques, not me."
"Your 'technique' stinks."
"Like you would know."
"Pretty much anything that ends up in amputation is a bad technique."
"Shut up."
"Very creative, Claire."
"Are we talking...or what?"
He scoffed, and ruffled her hair. "Cute."
"Oh, come on, my Dad calls me cute, West."
"Okay, its not me ruining the mood, this time."
She heard a slight crunching of sand near her head, before another voice intruded into their cozy scene. "Do you have a problem with parental figures?"
There was a screech she hoped hadn't come from her, and then she was scrambling to her feet, clutching her shirt to her chest, and only dimly aware of West standing up beside her. None of that really mattered, though, because she must have smacked her head on the ground or something...because...she was obviously hallucinating.
Obviously. She was hallucinating, and when she shook her head and her head fixed itself, he would be gone. Except for the fact that he wasn't gone, and didn't look like he was going anywhere anytime soon.
"Nathan...?" Her voice was embarrassingly high, and full of disbelief.
"You know him?" West frowned slightly, before turning an accusing stare at the specter in front of her.
Nathan's gaze turned critical, as he examined the slim figure of West, before an amused expression crossed his face. "Is this really the best the Pacific has to offer?"
She didn't get a chance to come up with a reply, however, as he crossed the short distance between them, and engulfed her into one of his bear-like hugs. The kind that seemed too big for her, and threatened to swallow her completely. They always scared her a bit, made her uneasy, and she wasn't sure if it was because of their difference in size, or because it always felt fake, like a part of his show he was obligated to complete.
"Claire..." His voice was thick with pain, and she felt him squeeze her shoulders gently. This hug felt less stiff than all the others, like he'd given up on acting. Maybe he had, after all, he had thrown away everything after Peter....
She'd never really held a gun before. It was heavier than they looked in the movies, and warm from her father's hand. The unbalanced weight couldn't fully account for the way her hand shook, as she lifted it.
Tears blurred her vision, obscuring what few features she could still have made out through the blinding light that was emanating from the one standing only a few feet away from her. She thought she could discern a hopeful expression even still, but it could have been her imagination gone wild.
"Please..." Her voice sounded distorted and pathetic, and completely broken. She shook her head, willing herself to continue, drawing determination from somewhere she never knew she had. "Please...tell me there's another way!"
She never really believed he could have answered any differently than he did. He wouldn't have been Peter, he wouldn't have been her hero if he had.
Her eyes burned as she buried her face in his worn tux, and she clutched the front of her jacket. She wouldn't cry. Not again, not anymore. All of that...that was months behind her, and a lifetime she had left behind. It hurt...but it was over, and she wouldn't cry anymore.
But now he was here, somehow out of the ether, the one person in the world that understood everything they had went through was here. And now nothing seemed right anymore.
"I miss him, too." His voice is soft and gravelly, and threatens to break something inside of her.
The moment passed mercifully quickly, as West spoke up again.
"Who are you? How did you get here?"
Nathan glanced over at West, as Claire extracted herself from his grip. She felt herself flush slightly, but she quickly squashed the feeling. It wasn't as if she'd forgotten he was there or anything...Nathan had been the one to hug her.
"Umm...This is, um..." She lifted a hand in introduction. "My bio-dad."
West didn't quite gape, but he took a few moments before finally speaking. "Right. So you regrow toes, and he...appears randomly at the worst possible times?"
She frowned. "Er..."
"I went to your house...but your...Bennet said you were out. Luckily, he knew someone who could find you." He gestured vaguely east. "So I went back to ask her, then came all the way back out here. There wasn't a whole lot of time to plan a grand entrance."
She blinked. "You went...back and forth? Twice? I mean...couldn't you have called, or something?"
"Your phone was off."
"Oh." She shifted uncomfortably. "Um..."
"I wanted...to apologize, Claire." His expression was soft, and his dark eyes seemed saddened. "For everything. I wasn't there for you when I should have been. I let myself get caught up in something, and I let everyone important to me, everyone I cared about drift away."
She shrugged slightly, forcing a smile. "You said it yourself...the election was important. I got that. Peter did, too."
He closed his eyes a moment, before shaking his head, and regarding her with a regretful expression. "I chose the election over too many things. I lost Peter because of it. I almost lost everything. I don't want to lose you, too, Claire."
She shrugged, slightly. "You won't."
He offered a hand. "Let me do this right, this time."
She chewed her lip, and glanced over at West, who looked understandably put-out, and still confused about the entire turn of events.
"I realize this is a bad time..."
"No, no." West spoke up again, shaking his head and shrugging. "Far be it from me to keep Lizard Girl from her Teleporting Dad."
She sighed softly. "West...he doesn't teleport..." This wasn't exactly how she had envisioned telling him that he wasn't the first person she'd known that could fly... "He, um...flies."
"What?"
"Yeah, um...I was kinda waiting for a good time to tell you..."
"Wait, you fly" West frowned. "Like, through the air?"
Nathan arched an eyebrow. "As opposed to...?"
"No, no...I mean." He shook his head. "That Indian guy...he theorized this might be possible. But, you know...it was in a part reserved for the wild theories...in a wildly theoretical book."
"Flight?"
"Erm..." Claire shifted from to foot to foot. "West flies, too. Kind've how we got here..."
"Well, at least it didn't involve using you as a boat."
"Why would you even think that?" She shook her head slightly, before glancing at West. "West..."
"Hey, you know...just...go." He waved them off, before grinning slightly. "Next time we're going to...the arctic circle, or something."
She gave an almost imperceptible nod, and reached out to take the hand that was once more outstretched. A quick pull, and she was in his arms again, held tightly around the waist, hands flat against his chest.
He gave her a tight smile. "Hold on."
She nodded, and placed her hands on his shoulders.
"Ready?"
"You ready?"
She'd never seen anything move so fast, disappearing into the night sky before she fully processed that this would be the last time she would see them. Her heart tightened in her chest, a swell of pride and wonder.
Her father could fly. He could fly faster than any cheesy superhero movie she had ever seen. Tears burned her eyes, and she wished she could have asked him to take her for a flight. Just one, somewhere, it didn't matter where.
The gust of warm wind graced her cheeks like a gentle goodbye, as the night lit up in a beautiful display of color and light. The vague presence of someone behind her barely registered to her, as she absorbed every second of the display. The last moments she would ever have of her hero. Her heroes' last sacrifice.
She wanted to cry, as the light faded into the night as if it had never been. She wanted to weep, to breakdown and grieve enough for every person that they saved, who would never know. Nothing would come. The suffocating emptiness of it all choked any tears before they could ever form.
They were gone forever.
Her Heroes.
"Yeah."
A gasp of air escaped her, and she was zipping through the air without even time for acceleration. She had read somewhere that she should be feeling excruciating crushing pressure...for a reason she couldn't recall. All she could feel was his arms around her waist, and a wild breeze through her hair.
She looked up at him in askance, and he shook his head. "I don't know."
She did not ask anymore questions, instead turning her head to watch the clouds and patches of differently colored ground zooming past, far beneath them. She had refused to sit in the window seat on the way back from New York, and been to tired to watch anything from Texas, but she doubted that those would have been comparable to the sight presented to her now.
Soon, however, they were descending, and before she quite knew it, she was standing on warm metal. Her breath caught in her throat, as he hesitantly released her, and she took in the view afforded from their perch.
"You..."
He looked mildly abashed. "I couldn't really...I suppose it's not the most impressive place to go..."
Tears threatened to burn her eyes once more. "It's perfect."
She walked up to the guardrail in a half-daze, gazing down at the compacted dirt some twelve feet below her. If they went down to the ground, she was sure they would found scraps of cloth, or remnants of blood stains even now. "How did you know about this place?"
"A friend of yours mentioned it."
Tears did blur her gaze now, as she nodded.
"Claire! Oh my God, CLAIRE!"
Through the haze of pain that clouded her mind, she was vaguely aware of hurried footsteps approaching her. Every part of her body was screaming for attention, rushing to inform her brain of every dislocated limb, every torn artery, and every shattered bone. She was almost disappointed as she already felt bones crunching back together, and veins sealing themselves.
"Claire, are you alright?!"
She pushed herself to her feet, ignoring the snapping and popping that accompanied her movements. Her gaze was steady and determined as she watched the mini camcorder that had recorded her short flight. She didn't know quite why she did it, but she told herself that one day this would pass, one day this would be all she had left of this time--a morbid memory collection. She told herself that sometime soon, she would show these to her parents--her real parents--and they would tell her that it was alright, that she was normal, and didn't have to be a freak anymore.
"This is Claire Bennet, and that was attempt number five.
"Claire." A hand appeared on her shoulder, and Nathan was standing next to her, leaning on the railing.
"I used to jump off this, you know." Her voice was an inch away from deadpan. "I thought...'Maybe this time I'll figure out', you know? 'Maybe this time, all this will make sense. Maybe if I do it enough, it'll stop."
"Claire..."
She shook her head, weak smile on her lips. "I'm past that now. I think I understand it. You and Peter showed me why we have this...this power, or whatever you want to call it. I don't want to hide who I am anymore, or pretend I'm something I'm not."
Nathan nodded softly, knitting his fingers together on the bar. "Peter always felt we had this for a reason. Maybe we do. I don't know."
"If it wasn't for Peter, I'd be dead." She said quietly, gaze falling to the dirt again.
His lips quirked into a small, wistful smile. "If it wasn't for Peter, so would I."
She looked up from the ground to him. "I used to dream of bringing my family here. Being able to show them what I can do." Gain their approval, and maybe even their love.
"You don't have to prove anything to me, Claire."
"Why did you really come to find me?"
He was quiet a few moments, just watching her. "I told you. I want to do this right. I want to answer your questions. I want to be here for you this time."
She shook her head, turning to watch the fields of dried up oil. "I already have a father."
"I know." His voice was quiet. "He's a good man."
"I know."
"It's...you don't have to ask anything." He was watching the empty fields alongside her, now. "I just wanted to make the option open."
She smiled. "What was she like, when you met her?"
"Merideth?" He gave a sigh that might have been nostalgic. "She was beautiful. Vivacious, blonde...chain smoker."
"Guess some things don't change."
He laughed, shrugging slightly. "She couldn't cook to save her life. But she was kind, compassionate, and thoughtful...in her own, ditzy way."
She snorted, then. "My mother was a ditz?"
He shrugged. "Teenage act, mostly." His expression was far-off, as if he were lost in memories. "I was in love with her, once. Genuine, real love."
She turned her head slightly, to watch him. She didn't regret the fact that she was adopted. She was, and always would be, a Bennet. That didn't mean she couldn't wonder, though, what it might've been like, if not for the fire. "Why?"
He gave a heavy sigh. "I had commitments. I was a Naval officer, moving on up in the world, and my father..."
She nodded. "I get it."
"Claire...I didn't...It's not your--"
"It's alright, you know?" She shrugged. "I guess I'm glad you did. If you were there, in the fire..."
"Don't."
"Do you still..."
"Love her?" He frowned softly. "I thought she was dead."
"That's not an answer."
"Maybe." He seemed introspective. "Some, yes. But...between us...its over. She's moved on, and so have I."
She nodded. "You've got Heidi."
He gave a chuckle. "Yeah. Maybe."
She frowned over at him in concern. Had Heidi...? She had seen her in a wheelchair, but Peter never said anything implying she was sickly...
"She's fine." Nathan said with a shrug. "Better now, than she's been in years, in fact."
"What's wrong?"
"We all lost that night. Everything."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be." He looked...for just a few moments, there was a hopelessness in his eyes that mirrored the voice she had heard over the phone not long ago. "She's happy where she is, so are the boys. It's better this way. I understand that."
She reached a hand over to place over his, watching his expression. His features were harsh and angular, grown and weathered by a life without absolutes or trust. Even through that, however, she could see the resemblances between he and Peter.
He watched her scrutiny in silence for a long moment, before finally speaking again. "You look a lot like your mother, you know. Same hair."
She rolled her eyes, and almost made a snide remark about bleaching. Instead, on a quick urge, she leaned up on her toes to press a careful, lingering kiss on his lips.
He stared down at her, apparently struggling with speech. "Claire?"
"I already have a dad, I don't want another one."
He nodded hesitantly, feigned understanding in his expression.
She grabbed his other hand, turning him toward her. "I don't need another father."
He said nothing, but seemed to understand what she meant. Which was fortunate, because she wasn't really sure how else to phrase it. His eye reflected hesitance and uncertainty, as they stood silhouetted in the Texan sunset, hands and arms intertwined. The moment was identical to thousands of romantic cards issued by companies year-round, although the location was unorthodox.
The moment lasted only as long as any other moment would, before he finally leaned down and pressed his mouth over hers. His lips were not as full as the others that she had kissed, but they were soft and warm, and as she leaned into the kiss, nudging carefully with the tip of her tongue for entrance, his taste was sweet and tangy.
His hands slipped free of hers, and slid across her bare abdomen. The contact of his skin on hers made her jump in surprise, and he nearly pulled away.She smiled reassuringly at him, and pulled his hands back toward her.
"Kind of forgot about...you know."
"Sorry." He said with a shrug.
She laughed. "Guess it doesn't matter now."
He lifted her up by her hips, and propped her up on the railing. It was a little bit tricky, but she managed to balance herself on the bar without holding onto him for support. A playful smirk played across her face. "I think you've got way too much of an advantage here."
He arched an eyebrow. "And I was going to consider it a head start by you."
"Don't blame it on me."
"Well if its unsettling you..." he shrugged the jacket off.
"Wait."
He froze.
"Let me."
He seemed to consider it a moment, before nodding.
She reached a hand out almost warily, brushing her fingertips along threadbare silk. The buttons were warm and small, and it seemed like every button took two minutes to undo. His skin was pale and firm, with a few light chest hairs curling across it. She hated looking fascinated, as she pushed the thin fabric off of his shoulders and onto the metal grating. Light scars traced along his arms and torso, and her fingers brushed across each in turn.
A light shiver passed across her touch, as she traced one that passed under his navel. Other than that subtle movement, he endured her exploration without a sound or twitch.
She smiled up at him. "It's perfect."
He returned her smile, and tilted her head up to kiss her once again. She couldn't make out the taste that filled her mouth, as his deft tongue outmatched her efforts in a few short seconds. It stood to reason that a man twice her age would kiss differently than a boy only a few months older than she. She just wasn't certain whether it was really that fair.
Her world was hazy and distant as her hands struggled to find purchase on the clasp of his belt, blindly working to undo the frustrating thing, and allow the weight of his pockets to drag the loose pants downward.
She broke away from his kiss, willing her breath to remain even, and swallowed softly. He was watching her with a dark, intense gaze. through half lidded eyes. Even now that she had pulled away from him slightly, his nose was only half an inch from hers, and his fingers dug into her hips possessively.
She forced a wry smirk. "I just want you to know that the whole super-flying thing is invalidated if you wear superman boxers."
He chuckled softly. "Wrong brother."
She glanced down, anyway. They were indeed nothing more than pale blue-and-white checked boxers. The flimsy material made it down to mid-thigh level, and she found her gaze traveling further southward, taking in the sight. His legs were slightly muscular, like the rest of him, and were decorated with the same sprinkling of wiry hair.
She did not have long to look, however, as she was startled out of her reverie by a warm mouth on her neck. A startled yip escaped her, and she turned an accusing stare on him.
"I don't just stand around all that often, Claire." His voice was anything but apologetic, nor was the thin smile playing across his features. "I'm a politician, not a male model."
"So its true what they say about politicians playing dirty?"
She was surprised by the flirtatious grin on his face--flirting had not been something she had ever really imagined him doing before.
"We only play dirty when asked nicely."
"Oh, now that I doubt." She laughed, and he echoed her gesture with a good-natured chuckle.
And none of this was stalling because she was terrified of taking that last step. Not at all.
He frowned softly, then. "Claire..."
"If you say 'I dont have to do this', I am going to punch you."
"Actually, I was going to say, that it's getting chilly, just standing here half dressed." He retorted wryly. "Thought I might go out and find a...blanket or something. Hot cocoa, maybe."
"Jerk."
"I've heard worse." He lifted a cautionary finger. "And before you even say it--I've flown like this before. Picked up a nice T-shirt and an eccentric Asian man on the way."
There really wasn't anything left to do but follow her impulse, and yank the hem of the shorts downward with as much firmness as she could muster. She tried very hard not to immediately look down, too. The effort proved pointless, however, as the hands at her hips slipped around to the small of her back, and he pulled her forcefully closer to where he stood, closing the inch gap between she and he.
Her breath caught in her throat, as their noses touched, and she found it quite evident that he had no intention of going anywhere for some time. She could feel herself trembling slightly, against her will, but she couldn't say she felt any fear. Surreality, sure. There was plenty of that to go around. She was pretty certain that studying his unrepentant gaze, as his rough hands discarded her last cottony piece of clothing shouldn't have increased her heartbeat as much as it did.
He looked almost as if he were going to say something again, but then shook his head slightly, and captured her mouth in an intense, breathless kiss. Her hands grasped hurriedly at his shoulders, as his arms gripped her more tightly. She thought she heard him mumble something against her lips, but her attention was quickly diverted by a plunging tongue, and nipping teeth.
She felt the pain. The same dull pain she now felt with every wound. For just a moment, she winced in reaction to the sudden intrusion of unpleasant sensations, but as most always, it faded before she could quite identify what it felt like. What was left, however, was anything but dulled.
Their lips parted as a low hiss slipped through his clenched teeth, and her heart seemed to alternate between clenching tightly and thudding rather violently in her chest. His eyes met hers, intensity and longing and what she assumed was desire melted together in his gaze, and held her in silent fascination.
She wasn't sure how long they stood there, like a lover's statue, eyes locked in each others, and arms resting gracefully on one another's form, as the sun illuminated everything in a brilliant orange glow. No words passed between them in the moment of stillness, but it seemed to her that words would only have spoiled the moment.
She smiled gently instead, and he returned her smile. Genuine and guileless. It all seemed too sappy and tender to her for the situation. Wasn't this generally the time of carnality and dirty words? Maybe she read too many books, because for all of the oddity of it, it felt just right.
And, as all moments before, it passed. She couldn't complain about its passing, however, not with the way his shifting screamed in her mind. She hoped the soft whimper that filled the air wasn't hers, and then there was not much more hoping or thinking at all. All that was left was him, and nails digging into skin, and constant measured maddening movements. Warmth washed across her, as her eyes fell into a lethargic half-gaze, remaining open surely because there would be no breaking the intensity of his stare.
A tight-lipped groan from him, and it restriction and carefulness melted away, and she was clinging to him for dear life, and his hands had special duplication powers of their own, and everything was gone in a fog of broken cries and heated thrusts. If she were capable of coherency, she would have come up with a cliche and flowery description for the experience, but as it was, all she knew was a harsh cry and a brilliant flash of colored light, and warm breath on her cheeks.
When she opened her eyes this time, it wasn't the cold of the night that greeted her, and it wasn't empty arms or a reluctant substitute that held her tight and brushed away her tears. And in his dark eyes, she finally understood. Save the Cheerleader, Save the world.
END
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AN: YES! I CAN'T BELIEVE I FINISHED THIS! WHOO HOO! It took me TWO WHOLE WEEKS TO FINISH THIS.