a comforting lie (can't last) - claire bennet - heroes - fanfiction
Title: a comforting lie (can't last)
Rating: R
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing: n/a
Word Count: 854
Spoilers: Technically up to 2x08, with speculation for 2x09.
Summary: her eyes slide shut to stop the tears and then she’s simply gone.
Note: This was one of those ideas I had to get off my chest. I think something like this might actually spice up Claire's storyline this season, but I doubt it'd happen. ;) Story tile comes from the song "Comforting Lie" by No Doubt.
Warnings: Spec for 2x09, attempted rape, darkfic.
Originally Posted: 20th November, 2007
There’s a shout and a bang; her eyes slide shut to stop the tears and then she’s simply gone.
-
When she opens her eyes, there’s something not quite right. It’s dark and she’s at home and there’s someone scurrying away in her peripheral vision. She twists and West is glaring at her with frightful eyes, shouting that she’s crazy and a bitch and to stay away from him. She doesn’t understand, doesn’t comprehend. She stares at her hands (and weren’t her nails a soft blue? why are they red now?) and notices that she’s not in her uniform, she’s wearing a skirt she doesn’t even remember owning.
She leaps off the couch and moves towards the glass doorway of the study. There’s something not right about her reflection - she doesn’t feel like she’s smiling, but her reflection says otherwise. And then with a wink, she’s gone again.
-
She’s awake again, and this time she’s at the dining table. Her mother is staring at her with a mixture of worry and confusion (and is that a hint of fear?) and Lyle’s chair is pushed away from the table, his plate sitting half-full. She whimpers inaudibly, her fingers clenching the edge of the tablecloth in her lap. Her mother murmurs her name, but she’s on her feet before the woman can reach out to her.
“I-I’m sorry,” she mumbles, but she doesn’t know what she’s apologizing for. She hurries out of there to her room, faltering only as she passes Lyle’s room, but she’s too afraid to enter.
She shuts her door with a snap and paces her room anxiously. Her hands tremble (fluro pink fingernails glitter under her dimmed lights; and who knew she was so tacky?) as she brings them up to push her hair from her face. Her breath seems to shake as it flows through her body and she can’t stop the heated tears from springing to her eyes.
She abruptly stops, sinking down in front of her bed and cradling her head in her hands. “What’s happening to me?” she whimpers, and then she hears a softly mocking laugh, so eerily familiar and yet not.
“Don’t worry Claire,” and she’s looking into the mirror across from her and seeing herself, but there’s something not right, “you’re not going crazy.” There’s a pause, and if she was in any fit state of mind she’d have retorted with something sarcastic, but her fucking reflection is talking to her which, quite frankly, is even more absurd than waking up on an autopsy table with your chest ripped open. “Really, you’re not. You’ve always been crazy.” And then her reflection is laughing that familiar laugh, and when she blinks, she’s gone once again.
-
She opens her eyes and this time she’s outside. There’s a blare of sirens several blocks over and a smell of something repugnant a few feet away from her. And then she feels his hands, mauling at her skirt and groping at her chest. She lets out a cry and moves to shove him away. The man curses angrily and calls her Jackie (but that’s not right, Jackie was her friend and Jackie was selfish and Jackie is dead, head slit open and there was blood all over her that she couldn’t quite scrub off).
She scrambles away, but he’s faster. His hands are on her legs, gripping her ankles tight, and she’s been here before (Brody seemed like such a sweet boy until he was on top of her, filling her up and shoving her down until her eyes clouded over and she floated away). And then the man (so unfamiliar) is pushing himself above her and she’s crying and shoving but he’s just too strong.
And then he’s gone. She watches as he practically soars into the alley wall, hitting the ground with a thump. She glances up, and Lyle’s standing over her, grim and tired. He reaches out for her and she never realized what a strong grip he had until she’s wrapped in his arms. He murmurs her name into her hair and she nods (yes, I am Claire, she thinks, but maybe I’m someone else too. and that’s just too confusing for her).
“It’s time to come home,” he tells her, and she agrees (but where is home without her father there by her side? she wonders), and then his hand is in her own and he’s leading the way with a strength she wished she had.
-
Jackie’s waiting for her when she makes it to her bedroom, scowling in her mirror and tapping her fingers against her hip. Except it’s her, it’s Claire’s body and she doesn’t understand how Jackie is a part of her but the word crazycrazycrazy runs through her mind and makes her shudder.
She stands in front of the mirror and tears lick her cheeks as her reflection grins back at her. “Don’t worry Claire,” and it’s her voice but Jackie’s always-mocking tone, “even though daddy dearest is gone, you don’t have to worry about being alone. You’ve got me.”
Claire cries, closes her eyes, and Jackie smiles.
Rating: R
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing: n/a
Word Count: 854
Spoilers: Technically up to 2x08, with speculation for 2x09.
Summary: her eyes slide shut to stop the tears and then she’s simply gone.
Note: This was one of those ideas I had to get off my chest. I think something like this might actually spice up Claire's storyline this season, but I doubt it'd happen. ;) Story tile comes from the song "Comforting Lie" by No Doubt.
Warnings: Spec for 2x09, attempted rape, darkfic.
Originally Posted: 20th November, 2007
There’s a shout and a bang; her eyes slide shut to stop the tears and then she’s simply gone.
-
When she opens her eyes, there’s something not quite right. It’s dark and she’s at home and there’s someone scurrying away in her peripheral vision. She twists and West is glaring at her with frightful eyes, shouting that she’s crazy and a bitch and to stay away from him. She doesn’t understand, doesn’t comprehend. She stares at her hands (and weren’t her nails a soft blue? why are they red now?) and notices that she’s not in her uniform, she’s wearing a skirt she doesn’t even remember owning.
She leaps off the couch and moves towards the glass doorway of the study. There’s something not right about her reflection - she doesn’t feel like she’s smiling, but her reflection says otherwise. And then with a wink, she’s gone again.
-
She’s awake again, and this time she’s at the dining table. Her mother is staring at her with a mixture of worry and confusion (and is that a hint of fear?) and Lyle’s chair is pushed away from the table, his plate sitting half-full. She whimpers inaudibly, her fingers clenching the edge of the tablecloth in her lap. Her mother murmurs her name, but she’s on her feet before the woman can reach out to her.
“I-I’m sorry,” she mumbles, but she doesn’t know what she’s apologizing for. She hurries out of there to her room, faltering only as she passes Lyle’s room, but she’s too afraid to enter.
She shuts her door with a snap and paces her room anxiously. Her hands tremble (fluro pink fingernails glitter under her dimmed lights; and who knew she was so tacky?) as she brings them up to push her hair from her face. Her breath seems to shake as it flows through her body and she can’t stop the heated tears from springing to her eyes.
She abruptly stops, sinking down in front of her bed and cradling her head in her hands. “What’s happening to me?” she whimpers, and then she hears a softly mocking laugh, so eerily familiar and yet not.
“Don’t worry Claire,” and she’s looking into the mirror across from her and seeing herself, but there’s something not right, “you’re not going crazy.” There’s a pause, and if she was in any fit state of mind she’d have retorted with something sarcastic, but her fucking reflection is talking to her which, quite frankly, is even more absurd than waking up on an autopsy table with your chest ripped open. “Really, you’re not. You’ve always been crazy.” And then her reflection is laughing that familiar laugh, and when she blinks, she’s gone once again.
-
She opens her eyes and this time she’s outside. There’s a blare of sirens several blocks over and a smell of something repugnant a few feet away from her. And then she feels his hands, mauling at her skirt and groping at her chest. She lets out a cry and moves to shove him away. The man curses angrily and calls her Jackie (but that’s not right, Jackie was her friend and Jackie was selfish and Jackie is dead, head slit open and there was blood all over her that she couldn’t quite scrub off).
She scrambles away, but he’s faster. His hands are on her legs, gripping her ankles tight, and she’s been here before (Brody seemed like such a sweet boy until he was on top of her, filling her up and shoving her down until her eyes clouded over and she floated away). And then the man (so unfamiliar) is pushing himself above her and she’s crying and shoving but he’s just too strong.
And then he’s gone. She watches as he practically soars into the alley wall, hitting the ground with a thump. She glances up, and Lyle’s standing over her, grim and tired. He reaches out for her and she never realized what a strong grip he had until she’s wrapped in his arms. He murmurs her name into her hair and she nods (yes, I am Claire, she thinks, but maybe I’m someone else too. and that’s just too confusing for her).
“It’s time to come home,” he tells her, and she agrees (but where is home without her father there by her side? she wonders), and then his hand is in her own and he’s leading the way with a strength she wished she had.
-
Jackie’s waiting for her when she makes it to her bedroom, scowling in her mirror and tapping her fingers against her hip. Except it’s her, it’s Claire’s body and she doesn’t understand how Jackie is a part of her but the word crazycrazycrazy runs through her mind and makes her shudder.
She stands in front of the mirror and tears lick her cheeks as her reflection grins back at her. “Don’t worry Claire,” and it’s her voice but Jackie’s always-mocking tone, “even though daddy dearest is gone, you don’t have to worry about being alone. You’ve got me.”
Claire cries, closes her eyes, and Jackie smiles.