Destined, chapter 13
Title: Destined
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing: Peter/Claire, West/Claire, Zach/Claire friendship
Rating: PG-13
Summary: As Claire continues with life after New York, the reappearance of her uncle in her life is only the beginning of a series of events that will change her life forever. This Chapter: Claire has an interesting dream.
Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12
Fic Art: HERE, HERE, HERE, and HERE. ♥
A/N: I've gotten some new readers since the last chapter was posted and that makes me so ecstatic! I'm really pleased you guys are enjoying this & I hope you like this chapter, too! I'm actually really curious to see how people will perceive this, so please let me know what you think! :)
Chapter Thirteen - Just A Cheerleader
It's raining.
Giant drops of water fall from the thundering sky, hitting the pavement with soft tip tapping sounds, and it feels exhilarating on her skin. Every cold raindrop shocks her, excites her, makes her feel alive.
The smile on her face is wide and beaming, and where any other teenaged girl would feel upset at the water ruining their hair and make-up, Claire has never felt more blissful than she does in this moment.
He’s standing there, his eyes so dark and steady as they look into hers. He's looking at her, really looking at her, thoroughly and unabashedly, and she can feel the warmth of his gaze in her bones. The rain slides down both of their faces and she blinks the water out of her eyes, not wanting to look away from him.
When he kisses her, it's soft and gentle, just like him. He pulls away and his right hand comes to rest on her cheek while his left moves her sopping hair away from her face. Icy fingers touch her eyelids, her cheekbones, her lips, and she's never felt anything more electifying.
She briefly ponders how such cold hands can evoke such heat.
And then he's kissing her again, more urgent this time, but no less tender. It's wet, with the clear rain and her salty, happy tears. She feels like her life is just beginning, here with him, that her slate is clean and her soul is cleansed.
Everything is just washed away as she kisses him, her uncle, her Peter.
Her lips burn at the feel of his mouth on hers and she pulls at his lapels, convinced that they’re not close enough. The fire spreads across her lips, tingling over her cheeks and down her body, resting in the center of her stomach and all she wants is more. More of this, more of him.
"Oh, God, Peter," she whispers.
And then she pulls back suddenly, very, very confused. The voice that had just escaped her was not her voice. It was the voice of another woman.
"Peter?" she says, then claps her hands to her mouth. It's not her speaking.
Peter steps toward her, looking concerned. "What's wrong Simone?"
"Simone?" she gasps in horror, stepping away from him. She looks down at herself, panic and terror settling in as she sees her brown hands. "Simone?" she repeats, wanting to cry as her voice comes out foreign once more. She touches frizzy hair that's not hers and raises her hand to her mouth only to feel plump, unfamiliar lips.
"Yeah," says Peter, eyes smiling, "you're Simone." His voice is sweet and soft when he says the name and she shakes her head vehemently.
"No, no, it's me. I'm Claire."
"Claire?" He laughs, and it's a horrible, hollow, mocking sound.
The rain suddenly feels colder, stronger. It hits her in fierce, sharp waves, stinging her and soaking her to the bone. She begins to shake, her clothes clinging uncomfortably to her body -
Her body, she realizes, and she looks down again, and it's her.
She's long curly hair, small hands, and green eyes again, but the expression on Peter's face makes her feel sick.
He doesn't say anything, just turns away from her in disgust.
A woman walks toward them, untouched by the rain, and his entire demeanor changes - he lights up.
This woman is Simone, the real Simone, and she couldn't look any more different from Claire. She wears a blue business suit and sophisticated heels, her hair tied back elegantly, pink lipstick applied perfectly. She looks like the perfect aristocrat, the kind of woman that men choose to be their wife, the kind of woman that they would beg for.
Claire is in her Wildcats cheerleading uniform, the one stained with blood from her Homecoming night. Her hair feels heavy and limp against her shoulders, and the rain falling on her suddenly feels scratchy against her skin, smells strongly of sulfur, and makes her feel dirty, ugly.
Simone reaches them and pulls out an umbrella from out of nowhere and holds it over Peter's head; it's bright red and stands out against the dark backdrop of the street.
Simone turns her head to Claire and laughs softly (and even her laugh sounds elegant). "Didn't your mother ever tell you not to play out in the rain?"
The tears trailing down her face now are not out of happiness, but shame, humiliation, and inadequacy. She sniffs and wipes her nose on her sleeve.
"Christ, Claire," sneers Peter, his dark eyes now void of any warmth, "go change your clothes. If you get pnemonia, I'm not saving you. Did you hear me? I'm not saving you."
And he turns away from her dripping form and kisses Simone passionately.
*
Claire wakes up tangled in her bedsheets, breathing heavily. She reaches over to her nightstand to grab a ponytail holder, but in this house she doesn't have a nightstand.
Clumsily, she gets out of bed and finds what she's looking for; fingers shaking, she ties back her sweaty hair.
The dream had been so vivid, so real. She'd never had dreams like that before. Claire doesn't know what part of the dream scares her more - that Peter had been so cruel to her, that he had chosen someone else over her, or that in the dream, the two of them had been acting in a way that uncles and nieces don't act.
She goes to the bathroom and locks the door. Splashing water on her face, on the back of her neck, down her arms, she tries to rinse the dream off of her. She doesn't want to remember it, doesn't want to feel all the different things she feels right now - guilt, revulsion, pain. Her heart is beating sickeningly fast now and she sits down on the toilet and buries her head in her hands, wiping away the tears that have started to form in her eyes.
The door opens suddenly and she nearly jumps out of her skin.
"Claire?"
"Lyle?"
Her brother stands sleepily in the doorway of the bathroom, hair sticking out in different directions, eyes half-closed. "What are you doing?"
Claire sighs and tells him that she had a bad dream. He asks if it was the one where she falls of the top of the pyramid naked; it had been a recurring dream she'd had when she had first become a cheerleader. She lies, shakes her head yes.
Lyle says at least she wasn't being murdered or something in the dream, to which she thinks, If only you knew.
*
To: FilmsByZach
From: ClaireBearCheerleader
Everything is so messed up right now. The whole different time thing, this really weird and freaky dream that I had, my place in the universe. I'm so confused. It feels like all of this shit is coming out of nowhere.
*
Claire drives to the hotel that Nathan, Peter, Hiro, and Ando are staying. She isn't sure why she goes there exactly; she just doesn't want to be in her strange house any longer.
She enters the hotel to see Nathan sitting at the dining area, two plates of breakfast food in front of him and a cup of steaming coffee in his hands. Nathan and Hiro are in line, making a big deal over waffles, but Peter's not there.
Feeling relieved (she really doesn't want to face him right now, not after that dream), she sinks into the chair across from her bio-dad. He sets down the newspaper he's reading, folds it, and sets it to the side.
"Morning," he says.
"Morning."
"Peter's sleeping. He was exhausted after everything that happened," Nathan informs her. "Why aren't you?"
Claire shrugs. She doesn't want to talk to Nathan about why she can't sleep. It's been two days since the dream, but it's still at the front of her mind.
"Here," Nathan says, pushing a breakfast plate toward her. She picks up a bagel and takes a long time to smother it in cream cheese before taking a bite.
Instead of thanking Nathan for the food, which he seems to kind of expect by the way he's looking at her, she tells him that he looks like a Yeti instead.
He nearly chokes on his coffee. "Yeah?"
She grins softly. "Yeah."
He rubs his beard thoughtfully. "Guess I'll shave it when I go back to New York."
Claire lets her bagel drop to her plate with a soft thump. "When are you leaving?" she asks, telling herself that she shouldn't be surprised that her bio-dad is going back to New York. That's where his family is. He's a Congressman for goodness sake, and certainly not one for Texas.
Nathan takes a gulp of coffee and says, "I don't know. Soon."
"What about Peter?" Claire can't help but ask.
Nathan shrugs his shoulders lightly. "I'm not my brother's keeper. Peter's his own man."
Claire picks at her bagel, no longer hungry. I hope he stays.
Nathan picks up on her newfound sullenness and reaches across the table and does something he's never done before: he kisses her on the cheek. "Got to go call Heidi," he tells her, digging into his pocket for his cell phone. He walks out of the room, but she doesn't have time to be alone with her thoughts because Hiro and Ando plop down beside her soon after.
*
ZachAttack: What are you doing?
BringItOn: moping
everything's different
i'm supposed to go school tomorrow, but it's not even my school
i don't even know how long i've been living here
how the heck did we wind up in california?
ZachAttack: after the explosion, you guys came back to Texas for a bit
but then you wanted to move away
BringItOn: why?
ZachAttack: you told your dad it was too painful here
that every time you walked down the hallways, you saw Peter
so you guys left
BringItOn: oh
ZachAttack: Is that all you're moping about?
BringItOn: no, still moping about the usual stuff
being abnormal, all the family stuff, you know
ZachAttack: I see
BringItOn: I wish you were here
you're like the only normal thing in my life
ZachAttack: *blush*
BringItOn: my mom said we're going to come down there this weekend
ZachAttack: this weekend? claire, I can't
BringItOn: Why NOT?
ZachAttack: My family's going to Minnesota
don't ask
BringItOn: FINE
I'll just hang out with West instead
ZachAttack: Who?
BringItOn: I forgot you don't know who he is
well, you did, but not anymore
*sigh*
ZachAttack: Sorry, miracle grow, can't help it when time is changed
BringItOn: ha ha
*
The next day, Claire takes a bus to school (which she's never had to do), is surrounded by a group of girls who claim to be her "BFFs", and receives detention for not completing an important homework assignment.
She fights back the urge to complain about it not being her fault - how can she blamed if she wasn't even here when the assignment was given?
She goes to sit on the bleachers after school, elbows on her knees, face in her hands, watching the cheerleading squad. She's thinking about herself. Nostalgic thoughts, of how her life used to be and how it's changed.
She watches the cheerleaders, mouthing the words and tapping her foot to the rhythm of some of the cheers. She can't help but miss cheerleading; not the bitchiness or gossipy girls or the constant popularity contest surrounding the squad, but actually cheering.
Now she's a part of something greater, human evolution and saving the world and everything that entails (including changing time), but she still feels like a little kid. She has her father's overprotectiveness and her mother's new rule of not being involved with anything risky or dangerous, and to top it off, she has to balance school and a teenager's life into her new one. It's ridiculous.
She wishes she could be a part of one world or the other, but it's like she's not allowed to make the decision. Claire lets out a sigh and wishes she didn't have to choose at all.
A loud giggle interrupts her thoughts and she looks up to see May, one of her "BFFs."
"Girl, what are you doing?" she says, grabbing her arm and pulling her up.
"What?" she says, irritated.
"Why are you sitting here looking out at the field? You're supposed to be on it." May's eyes sweep over her. "And where's your uniform?"
"My what?"
"Your cheerleading uniform, hunny. God, Claire, are you feeling okay?"
May immediately presses a hand to her forehead and Claire swats it away. "Wait, I'm a cheerleader again?"
"Um, duh. Come on, everybody's waiting."
And May takes her hand and drags her onto the field.
*
Claire drives to the hotel after school.
She races up to Peter's hotel room and pounds on the door. When he answers it, he looks slightly confused and surprised.
"I'm a cheerleader!" Claire shrieks, throwing up her hands in the air.
A long pause stretches before Peter says, "Uh, what?"
She pushes past him and enters his room, plopping herself onto his bed. "I'm a cheerleader. I bumped into you and now I'm a cheerleader."
Peter closes the door and comes over to the bed, looking down at her. "Is this a bad thing?"
"Yes! No! I don't know!"
Peter kneels down next to the bed and assumes his "listening" expression, the one that she loves so much. She heaves a big sigh.
"Maybe I'm just being overdramatic. It's just that cheerleading for me equals "normal"," she makes quotes with her fingers, "and I'm anything but. It's a whole other world."
She realizes that she probably makes no sense, but Peter just nods. She had always loved cheerleading, even when she was little, and when she had discovered her ability to heal and felt like a freak, she could always feel normal while she was cheering. Being a part of something, even if it was a gaggle of girls in too-small uniforms, was always something Claire had wanted. Needed, even.
Remembering this, she says, "Maybe it won't be bad, though. It can be like an escape or something. From everything that's been going on lately. I mean, I do love it."
Peter smirks slightly. "Well, there you go. If you love it, then go ahead, be a cheerleader. But remember that you're more than just a cheerleader."
Claire smiles, feeling a lot calmer than she had just two minutes ago. "Okay."
Peter pats her on the knee and stands up, sitting next to her on the bed. He nudges her shoulder playfully with his own and Claire giggles, but then his expression turns serious. "How are you, Claire?"
She knows he's asking her about how she's been coping after all they'd been through - getting chased by dinosaurs, changing time, being a stranger in her own home... Claire wonders exactly how to answer him. Saying "It sucks" would be true, but Peter doesn't need to be the recipient of any more of her drama. She knows she'll get through it, she'll adjust the way she always does, and that's really all that's important.
"I'm fine," she tells him. "I will be. I'm glad you're here."
"Me too," he says.
Claire wonders if now would be a good time to ask Peter about Simone. She's been wanting to, so curious about the woman that had had such an effect on Peter. And, after all, she had just poured out a bit of her heart to Peter; maybe he'll do the same with her. Claire ponders this as Peter stands up and starts picking up dirty clothes from the floor and tossing them into the corner, wonders whether asking him about his girlfriend oversteps uncle-niece boundaries.
Claire decides that even if it does, it doesn't matter. Curiousity wins out.
"Hey, Peter?"
"Hmm?"
"Have you, um, heard from Simone?" The words come out a bit more nervously than she had hoped them to.
"What?" says Peter, bent down on the floor, a t-shirt clutched tightly in his hand. He looks surprised.
"Well," says Claire hesitantly, "she's alive now. Was she - is she - your girlfriend or something?"
Peter looks uncomfortable. "Uh..."
"I mean, I was just wondering," she says quickly.
Peter drops the shirt and stands up, crosses his hands and tucks them underneath his armpits, and doesn't look at her. "Claire," he says awkwardly, "I really don't want to talk about Simone."
"You don't want to talk about Simone or you don't want to talk about Simone with me?"
"Both."
Anger is quick to flare up inside of her. She can't even count the many times that she's shared her heart with Peter, told him things that she hadn't told anyone else. She thinks it's time for him to reciprocate, if only a little. Claire had wanted to know all about Peter for ages, ever since he had saved her at Homecoming, and in the midst of saving the world they hadn't had much time to talk. She had built up assumptions about him inside her head, but those had been shattered after seeing him Isaac's loft.
Now she has no idea who he is. She wants to know, but he doesn't want to tell her anything. She's only asking if Simone was his girlfriend, it's not like she's asking him to tell her his whole life story or something.
"Fine," she sighs, standing up. "I guess I'll just go then."
She sees how Peter picks up on her hurt and looks apologetic, but she knows that won't make him say something he doesn't want to say.
"I'll see you later, Claire," he says, sounding a bit hopeful.
She brushes past him and leaves without saying goodbye.
*
Nathan announces on a Sunday morning that he's going home. Hiro and Ando are going, too, having decided to live in New York permanently. Nathan's going to help them look for an apartment.
Peter is staying in California, apparently, and Claire's eyebrows raise. "Why?" she asks warily. He really has no reason to stay here; Simone, the girlfriend that he doesn't want to talk to her about, lives there. Mohinder lives there. Nathan and his nephews live there.
Claire would ask Peter himself why he's not going back to New York, but he's not here; besides, if she asked him, he'd probably flip out at being asked a question.
Peter's been avoiding her for the past three days, choosing to stay cooped up in his hotel room, and she's been more than happy not to see him, especially since he doesn't want to talk to her about anything.
"He says there's nothing else left for him there," says Nathan, rolling his eyes. "Whatever that means."
Claire hugs Nathan, Hiro, and Ando in turn, and she watches as they drive away. "I'm going to miss them," she says against the wind, more to herself than to anyone else.
Her father rubs her shoulders comfortingly. "I know."
*
Feeling lonely, Claire seeks out West. She knocks on the door four times before it finally swings open. He's bare-chested and Claire fights the urge to shield her eyes out of embarrasment.
He looks amused. "It's okay, Claire, we live in California."
"Right," she says, laughing nervously.
Look into his eyes, look into his eyes, she thinks, blushing as she thinks of that beautifully toned and tanned torso.
"Um, did you want to hang out or something?" she asks.
"Sure," West says, smiling warmly. "Actually, I have something to show you."
"What?" she says, interested.
West looks around, as if checking to see if any of the neighbors are around, before saying in a hushed tone, "It's kind of a secret, but I've been wanting to tell someone for a long time. Can you keep a secret, Claire?"
Claire laughs, thinking Boy, can I, but stops at the look on his face. "Of course I can. You can tell me anything."
Unlike some people, she adds in her mind.
West grins and she feels the tell-tale flutter in her stomach. He steps back, letting her inside.
*
West asks her again not to tell anyone what she's just seen. Claire nods emphatically, her heart beating so hard with excitement she can't do much else.
"Cross my heart," she says, even doing the hand motion across her chest. "I swear."
The second she leaves, however, her mind races. She can't keep this bottled up. It's amazing, what he can do... she wonders if she should have showed him her power, too, but that's something she can think about later.
She has to tell Peter. He would want to know.
She speeds to the hotel and rushes up his room, knocking on the door constantly it dawns on her that he's not going to open the door. Claire twists the doorknob, finding that it's unlocked.
She treads lightly into the room. "Peter?" she calls out, but his name dies in her throat when she spots him on the other side of the bed, near the window.
"Hi, Claire," he says in a monotone type voice and all plans to tell Peter about West vanish in an instant.
"What the hell is going on?" she asks worriedly when she takes in his appearance. Dark stubble is spread across his cheeks, he has huge bags under his eyes, and he reeks of alcohol. She notes that he's not drinking right now. He certainly had been, though; the broken vodka bottles scattered on the floor can attest to that.
"Peter, are you okay?" She kneels down next to him.
He sits on the floor with his legs raised, resting his arms on his knees. At the sound of her voice, he stares at her with piercing, wounded eyes, and smiles a bit. It makes him look more ghostly, more haunted, and it scares her.
"What's wrong?"
Peter a hand over his head. "It's Simone," he chokes out.
Claire feels slightly panicked. "She's not dead," she whispers, "is she?"
Peter lets out a hollow laugh, not unlike the one in her dream of him turning his back on her, and shakes his head. "No, no, she's not dead."
Claire smacks him lightly on the shoulder for scaring her like that. What other reason would he be up here, drunk and surrounded by mess all around him, if she wasn't dead?
Peter struggles to stand and she allows him to lean on her a bit. He stumbles away from her, groaning, and picks something out of his pocket. He hands it to her, this envelope that's now folded and slightly ripped in places.
She opens it, pulls out the card inside, and reads:
You are invited to the wedding of Isaac Mendez and Simone Deveaux, on March 3, 2007...
Claire stops reading. "I'm sorry, Peter," she says, not knowing what else to say.
He takes the card out of her hand and places it gingerly back in the envelope, then shuts the envelope inside of the drawer next to the bed with brutal force. "It's not a big deal."
"Well, it has to be if this is how you're reacting - "
"Claire," he slices across her, "I don't - "
" - want to talk about it," she finishes bitterly. "Yeah, I know. Whatever."
She goes to turn away from him, maybe to fold her arms across her chest haughtily, but he grabs her shoulders. "Come on," he whispers against her ear, and his breath on her skin makes her shiver.
"I don't want to fight," he says, his mouth still painfully close to her ear. He squeezes her shoulders, as if picking up on how still she's standing, trying to relax her. "Especially since I'm going to be living here now. I don't want to fight."
"Then stop pissing me off," she says, but the words are much weaker than she wants them to be. It's because Peter's standing so close to her, touching her, that she can't be angry with him.
And his heart has just been broken. He doesn't need me making it worse.
Peter smirks softly, squeezes her shoulders again, and pulls her into a crushing hug. Claire hugs him back, relieved when his clutch on her eases a bit into something more gentle. He adjusts position, burying his head into her neck, and Claire feels herself stiffen again; he's never done that before. Her skin feels like it's vibrating; the stubble on his face scratches her collarbone, his spiky hair caresses her cheek, and his lips are definitely on her shoulder.
Claire sucks in a breath when he starts to stroke her hair. She's suddenly aware of how close they are, how pressed up against him she is, and she feels the heat rise to her cheeks. This is your uncle, she tells herself mentally, starting to feel awkward. He shouldn't be this close to her, he shouldn't be hugging her in this way, it's not right.
Sensing her discomfort, he pulls away, looking ashamed. "Sorry."
"It's okay," she says, feeling slightly sick.
She doesn't know if she feels sick because she's witnessing her hero having a breakdown or because the way he had held her had been a lot more than friendly.
Still, it had felt so satisfying to be so near to Peter. She had to admit, if he hadn't been completely out of it and more than a little drunk, she probably would have melted into him. Claire closes her eyes tightly as she muses on this. Oh, this is wrong, this is fucked up, ew, oh my God, why the hell do I want to hug him again?
Claire glances up at Peter , who's back on the floor, head in his hands. Peter looks just as bad as she feels, and she reminds herself that he probably feels worse.
She berates herself for feeling this way, feeling disgusted with herself. He gave you a hug and you're blowing it out of proportion. He's depressed about Simone, and you're overanalyzing a freaking hug.
Her conversation with Nathan before he left for New York rushes back to her. He had told her that Peter said there was nothing left for him in New York anymore.
By nothing, he had meant Simone.
Peter's not staying in California to be with her, he's staying in California to get away from Simone.
The fact that Claire feels a pang of jealousy at this realization makes her feel the sickest of all.
*
Read the next chapter here!
A/N: Just so ya'll know, this probably won't be updated for a week or so. It's my turn to write a chapter for the Paire Round Robin and I want to focus my attention on that for a little bit. :) If you haven't read the Paire Round Robin yet, go HERE! ♥
Thanks to rtwofan for the original manip of the fic art. :)
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Fandom: Heroes
Pairing: Peter/Claire, West/Claire, Zach/Claire friendship
Rating: PG-13
Summary: As Claire continues with life after New York, the reappearance of her uncle in her life is only the beginning of a series of events that will change her life forever. This Chapter: Claire has an interesting dream.
Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12
Fic Art: HERE, HERE, HERE, and HERE. ♥
A/N: I've gotten some new readers since the last chapter was posted and that makes me so ecstatic! I'm really pleased you guys are enjoying this & I hope you like this chapter, too! I'm actually really curious to see how people will perceive this, so please let me know what you think! :)
Chapter Thirteen - Just A Cheerleader
It's raining.
Giant drops of water fall from the thundering sky, hitting the pavement with soft tip tapping sounds, and it feels exhilarating on her skin. Every cold raindrop shocks her, excites her, makes her feel alive.
The smile on her face is wide and beaming, and where any other teenaged girl would feel upset at the water ruining their hair and make-up, Claire has never felt more blissful than she does in this moment.
He’s standing there, his eyes so dark and steady as they look into hers. He's looking at her, really looking at her, thoroughly and unabashedly, and she can feel the warmth of his gaze in her bones. The rain slides down both of their faces and she blinks the water out of her eyes, not wanting to look away from him.
When he kisses her, it's soft and gentle, just like him. He pulls away and his right hand comes to rest on her cheek while his left moves her sopping hair away from her face. Icy fingers touch her eyelids, her cheekbones, her lips, and she's never felt anything more electifying.
She briefly ponders how such cold hands can evoke such heat.
And then he's kissing her again, more urgent this time, but no less tender. It's wet, with the clear rain and her salty, happy tears. She feels like her life is just beginning, here with him, that her slate is clean and her soul is cleansed.
Everything is just washed away as she kisses him, her uncle, her Peter.
Her lips burn at the feel of his mouth on hers and she pulls at his lapels, convinced that they’re not close enough. The fire spreads across her lips, tingling over her cheeks and down her body, resting in the center of her stomach and all she wants is more. More of this, more of him.
"Oh, God, Peter," she whispers.
And then she pulls back suddenly, very, very confused. The voice that had just escaped her was not her voice. It was the voice of another woman.
"Peter?" she says, then claps her hands to her mouth. It's not her speaking.
Peter steps toward her, looking concerned. "What's wrong Simone?"
"Simone?" she gasps in horror, stepping away from him. She looks down at herself, panic and terror settling in as she sees her brown hands. "Simone?" she repeats, wanting to cry as her voice comes out foreign once more. She touches frizzy hair that's not hers and raises her hand to her mouth only to feel plump, unfamiliar lips.
"Yeah," says Peter, eyes smiling, "you're Simone." His voice is sweet and soft when he says the name and she shakes her head vehemently.
"No, no, it's me. I'm Claire."
"Claire?" He laughs, and it's a horrible, hollow, mocking sound.
The rain suddenly feels colder, stronger. It hits her in fierce, sharp waves, stinging her and soaking her to the bone. She begins to shake, her clothes clinging uncomfortably to her body -
Her body, she realizes, and she looks down again, and it's her.
She's long curly hair, small hands, and green eyes again, but the expression on Peter's face makes her feel sick.
He doesn't say anything, just turns away from her in disgust.
A woman walks toward them, untouched by the rain, and his entire demeanor changes - he lights up.
This woman is Simone, the real Simone, and she couldn't look any more different from Claire. She wears a blue business suit and sophisticated heels, her hair tied back elegantly, pink lipstick applied perfectly. She looks like the perfect aristocrat, the kind of woman that men choose to be their wife, the kind of woman that they would beg for.
Claire is in her Wildcats cheerleading uniform, the one stained with blood from her Homecoming night. Her hair feels heavy and limp against her shoulders, and the rain falling on her suddenly feels scratchy against her skin, smells strongly of sulfur, and makes her feel dirty, ugly.
Simone reaches them and pulls out an umbrella from out of nowhere and holds it over Peter's head; it's bright red and stands out against the dark backdrop of the street.
Simone turns her head to Claire and laughs softly (and even her laugh sounds elegant). "Didn't your mother ever tell you not to play out in the rain?"
The tears trailing down her face now are not out of happiness, but shame, humiliation, and inadequacy. She sniffs and wipes her nose on her sleeve.
"Christ, Claire," sneers Peter, his dark eyes now void of any warmth, "go change your clothes. If you get pnemonia, I'm not saving you. Did you hear me? I'm not saving you."
And he turns away from her dripping form and kisses Simone passionately.
*
Claire wakes up tangled in her bedsheets, breathing heavily. She reaches over to her nightstand to grab a ponytail holder, but in this house she doesn't have a nightstand.
Clumsily, she gets out of bed and finds what she's looking for; fingers shaking, she ties back her sweaty hair.
The dream had been so vivid, so real. She'd never had dreams like that before. Claire doesn't know what part of the dream scares her more - that Peter had been so cruel to her, that he had chosen someone else over her, or that in the dream, the two of them had been acting in a way that uncles and nieces don't act.
She goes to the bathroom and locks the door. Splashing water on her face, on the back of her neck, down her arms, she tries to rinse the dream off of her. She doesn't want to remember it, doesn't want to feel all the different things she feels right now - guilt, revulsion, pain. Her heart is beating sickeningly fast now and she sits down on the toilet and buries her head in her hands, wiping away the tears that have started to form in her eyes.
The door opens suddenly and she nearly jumps out of her skin.
"Claire?"
"Lyle?"
Her brother stands sleepily in the doorway of the bathroom, hair sticking out in different directions, eyes half-closed. "What are you doing?"
Claire sighs and tells him that she had a bad dream. He asks if it was the one where she falls of the top of the pyramid naked; it had been a recurring dream she'd had when she had first become a cheerleader. She lies, shakes her head yes.
Lyle says at least she wasn't being murdered or something in the dream, to which she thinks, If only you knew.
*
To: FilmsByZach
From: ClaireBearCheerleader
Everything is so messed up right now. The whole different time thing, this really weird and freaky dream that I had, my place in the universe. I'm so confused. It feels like all of this shit is coming out of nowhere.
*
Claire drives to the hotel that Nathan, Peter, Hiro, and Ando are staying. She isn't sure why she goes there exactly; she just doesn't want to be in her strange house any longer.
She enters the hotel to see Nathan sitting at the dining area, two plates of breakfast food in front of him and a cup of steaming coffee in his hands. Nathan and Hiro are in line, making a big deal over waffles, but Peter's not there.
Feeling relieved (she really doesn't want to face him right now, not after that dream), she sinks into the chair across from her bio-dad. He sets down the newspaper he's reading, folds it, and sets it to the side.
"Morning," he says.
"Morning."
"Peter's sleeping. He was exhausted after everything that happened," Nathan informs her. "Why aren't you?"
Claire shrugs. She doesn't want to talk to Nathan about why she can't sleep. It's been two days since the dream, but it's still at the front of her mind.
"Here," Nathan says, pushing a breakfast plate toward her. She picks up a bagel and takes a long time to smother it in cream cheese before taking a bite.
Instead of thanking Nathan for the food, which he seems to kind of expect by the way he's looking at her, she tells him that he looks like a Yeti instead.
He nearly chokes on his coffee. "Yeah?"
She grins softly. "Yeah."
He rubs his beard thoughtfully. "Guess I'll shave it when I go back to New York."
Claire lets her bagel drop to her plate with a soft thump. "When are you leaving?" she asks, telling herself that she shouldn't be surprised that her bio-dad is going back to New York. That's where his family is. He's a Congressman for goodness sake, and certainly not one for Texas.
Nathan takes a gulp of coffee and says, "I don't know. Soon."
"What about Peter?" Claire can't help but ask.
Nathan shrugs his shoulders lightly. "I'm not my brother's keeper. Peter's his own man."
Claire picks at her bagel, no longer hungry. I hope he stays.
Nathan picks up on her newfound sullenness and reaches across the table and does something he's never done before: he kisses her on the cheek. "Got to go call Heidi," he tells her, digging into his pocket for his cell phone. He walks out of the room, but she doesn't have time to be alone with her thoughts because Hiro and Ando plop down beside her soon after.
*
ZachAttack: What are you doing?
BringItOn: moping
everything's different
i'm supposed to go school tomorrow, but it's not even my school
i don't even know how long i've been living here
how the heck did we wind up in california?
ZachAttack: after the explosion, you guys came back to Texas for a bit
but then you wanted to move away
BringItOn: why?
ZachAttack: you told your dad it was too painful here
that every time you walked down the hallways, you saw Peter
so you guys left
BringItOn: oh
ZachAttack: Is that all you're moping about?
BringItOn: no, still moping about the usual stuff
being abnormal, all the family stuff, you know
ZachAttack: I see
BringItOn: I wish you were here
you're like the only normal thing in my life
ZachAttack: *blush*
BringItOn: my mom said we're going to come down there this weekend
ZachAttack: this weekend? claire, I can't
BringItOn: Why NOT?
ZachAttack: My family's going to Minnesota
don't ask
BringItOn: FINE
I'll just hang out with West instead
ZachAttack: Who?
BringItOn: I forgot you don't know who he is
well, you did, but not anymore
*sigh*
ZachAttack: Sorry, miracle grow, can't help it when time is changed
BringItOn: ha ha
*
The next day, Claire takes a bus to school (which she's never had to do), is surrounded by a group of girls who claim to be her "BFFs", and receives detention for not completing an important homework assignment.
She fights back the urge to complain about it not being her fault - how can she blamed if she wasn't even here when the assignment was given?
She goes to sit on the bleachers after school, elbows on her knees, face in her hands, watching the cheerleading squad. She's thinking about herself. Nostalgic thoughts, of how her life used to be and how it's changed.
She watches the cheerleaders, mouthing the words and tapping her foot to the rhythm of some of the cheers. She can't help but miss cheerleading; not the bitchiness or gossipy girls or the constant popularity contest surrounding the squad, but actually cheering.
Now she's a part of something greater, human evolution and saving the world and everything that entails (including changing time), but she still feels like a little kid. She has her father's overprotectiveness and her mother's new rule of not being involved with anything risky or dangerous, and to top it off, she has to balance school and a teenager's life into her new one. It's ridiculous.
She wishes she could be a part of one world or the other, but it's like she's not allowed to make the decision. Claire lets out a sigh and wishes she didn't have to choose at all.
A loud giggle interrupts her thoughts and she looks up to see May, one of her "BFFs."
"Girl, what are you doing?" she says, grabbing her arm and pulling her up.
"What?" she says, irritated.
"Why are you sitting here looking out at the field? You're supposed to be on it." May's eyes sweep over her. "And where's your uniform?"
"My what?"
"Your cheerleading uniform, hunny. God, Claire, are you feeling okay?"
May immediately presses a hand to her forehead and Claire swats it away. "Wait, I'm a cheerleader again?"
"Um, duh. Come on, everybody's waiting."
And May takes her hand and drags her onto the field.
*
Claire drives to the hotel after school.
She races up to Peter's hotel room and pounds on the door. When he answers it, he looks slightly confused and surprised.
"I'm a cheerleader!" Claire shrieks, throwing up her hands in the air.
A long pause stretches before Peter says, "Uh, what?"
She pushes past him and enters his room, plopping herself onto his bed. "I'm a cheerleader. I bumped into you and now I'm a cheerleader."
Peter closes the door and comes over to the bed, looking down at her. "Is this a bad thing?"
"Yes! No! I don't know!"
Peter kneels down next to the bed and assumes his "listening" expression, the one that she loves so much. She heaves a big sigh.
"Maybe I'm just being overdramatic. It's just that cheerleading for me equals "normal"," she makes quotes with her fingers, "and I'm anything but. It's a whole other world."
She realizes that she probably makes no sense, but Peter just nods. She had always loved cheerleading, even when she was little, and when she had discovered her ability to heal and felt like a freak, she could always feel normal while she was cheering. Being a part of something, even if it was a gaggle of girls in too-small uniforms, was always something Claire had wanted. Needed, even.
Remembering this, she says, "Maybe it won't be bad, though. It can be like an escape or something. From everything that's been going on lately. I mean, I do love it."
Peter smirks slightly. "Well, there you go. If you love it, then go ahead, be a cheerleader. But remember that you're more than just a cheerleader."
Claire smiles, feeling a lot calmer than she had just two minutes ago. "Okay."
Peter pats her on the knee and stands up, sitting next to her on the bed. He nudges her shoulder playfully with his own and Claire giggles, but then his expression turns serious. "How are you, Claire?"
She knows he's asking her about how she's been coping after all they'd been through - getting chased by dinosaurs, changing time, being a stranger in her own home... Claire wonders exactly how to answer him. Saying "It sucks" would be true, but Peter doesn't need to be the recipient of any more of her drama. She knows she'll get through it, she'll adjust the way she always does, and that's really all that's important.
"I'm fine," she tells him. "I will be. I'm glad you're here."
"Me too," he says.
Claire wonders if now would be a good time to ask Peter about Simone. She's been wanting to, so curious about the woman that had had such an effect on Peter. And, after all, she had just poured out a bit of her heart to Peter; maybe he'll do the same with her. Claire ponders this as Peter stands up and starts picking up dirty clothes from the floor and tossing them into the corner, wonders whether asking him about his girlfriend oversteps uncle-niece boundaries.
Claire decides that even if it does, it doesn't matter. Curiousity wins out.
"Hey, Peter?"
"Hmm?"
"Have you, um, heard from Simone?" The words come out a bit more nervously than she had hoped them to.
"What?" says Peter, bent down on the floor, a t-shirt clutched tightly in his hand. He looks surprised.
"Well," says Claire hesitantly, "she's alive now. Was she - is she - your girlfriend or something?"
Peter looks uncomfortable. "Uh..."
"I mean, I was just wondering," she says quickly.
Peter drops the shirt and stands up, crosses his hands and tucks them underneath his armpits, and doesn't look at her. "Claire," he says awkwardly, "I really don't want to talk about Simone."
"You don't want to talk about Simone or you don't want to talk about Simone with me?"
"Both."
Anger is quick to flare up inside of her. She can't even count the many times that she's shared her heart with Peter, told him things that she hadn't told anyone else. She thinks it's time for him to reciprocate, if only a little. Claire had wanted to know all about Peter for ages, ever since he had saved her at Homecoming, and in the midst of saving the world they hadn't had much time to talk. She had built up assumptions about him inside her head, but those had been shattered after seeing him Isaac's loft.
Now she has no idea who he is. She wants to know, but he doesn't want to tell her anything. She's only asking if Simone was his girlfriend, it's not like she's asking him to tell her his whole life story or something.
"Fine," she sighs, standing up. "I guess I'll just go then."
She sees how Peter picks up on her hurt and looks apologetic, but she knows that won't make him say something he doesn't want to say.
"I'll see you later, Claire," he says, sounding a bit hopeful.
She brushes past him and leaves without saying goodbye.
*
Nathan announces on a Sunday morning that he's going home. Hiro and Ando are going, too, having decided to live in New York permanently. Nathan's going to help them look for an apartment.
Peter is staying in California, apparently, and Claire's eyebrows raise. "Why?" she asks warily. He really has no reason to stay here; Simone, the girlfriend that he doesn't want to talk to her about, lives there. Mohinder lives there. Nathan and his nephews live there.
Claire would ask Peter himself why he's not going back to New York, but he's not here; besides, if she asked him, he'd probably flip out at being asked a question.
Peter's been avoiding her for the past three days, choosing to stay cooped up in his hotel room, and she's been more than happy not to see him, especially since he doesn't want to talk to her about anything.
"He says there's nothing else left for him there," says Nathan, rolling his eyes. "Whatever that means."
Claire hugs Nathan, Hiro, and Ando in turn, and she watches as they drive away. "I'm going to miss them," she says against the wind, more to herself than to anyone else.
Her father rubs her shoulders comfortingly. "I know."
*
Feeling lonely, Claire seeks out West. She knocks on the door four times before it finally swings open. He's bare-chested and Claire fights the urge to shield her eyes out of embarrasment.
He looks amused. "It's okay, Claire, we live in California."
"Right," she says, laughing nervously.
Look into his eyes, look into his eyes, she thinks, blushing as she thinks of that beautifully toned and tanned torso.
"Um, did you want to hang out or something?" she asks.
"Sure," West says, smiling warmly. "Actually, I have something to show you."
"What?" she says, interested.
West looks around, as if checking to see if any of the neighbors are around, before saying in a hushed tone, "It's kind of a secret, but I've been wanting to tell someone for a long time. Can you keep a secret, Claire?"
Claire laughs, thinking Boy, can I, but stops at the look on his face. "Of course I can. You can tell me anything."
Unlike some people, she adds in her mind.
West grins and she feels the tell-tale flutter in her stomach. He steps back, letting her inside.
*
West asks her again not to tell anyone what she's just seen. Claire nods emphatically, her heart beating so hard with excitement she can't do much else.
"Cross my heart," she says, even doing the hand motion across her chest. "I swear."
The second she leaves, however, her mind races. She can't keep this bottled up. It's amazing, what he can do... she wonders if she should have showed him her power, too, but that's something she can think about later.
She has to tell Peter. He would want to know.
She speeds to the hotel and rushes up his room, knocking on the door constantly it dawns on her that he's not going to open the door. Claire twists the doorknob, finding that it's unlocked.
She treads lightly into the room. "Peter?" she calls out, but his name dies in her throat when she spots him on the other side of the bed, near the window.
"Hi, Claire," he says in a monotone type voice and all plans to tell Peter about West vanish in an instant.
"What the hell is going on?" she asks worriedly when she takes in his appearance. Dark stubble is spread across his cheeks, he has huge bags under his eyes, and he reeks of alcohol. She notes that he's not drinking right now. He certainly had been, though; the broken vodka bottles scattered on the floor can attest to that.
"Peter, are you okay?" She kneels down next to him.
He sits on the floor with his legs raised, resting his arms on his knees. At the sound of her voice, he stares at her with piercing, wounded eyes, and smiles a bit. It makes him look more ghostly, more haunted, and it scares her.
"What's wrong?"
Peter a hand over his head. "It's Simone," he chokes out.
Claire feels slightly panicked. "She's not dead," she whispers, "is she?"
Peter lets out a hollow laugh, not unlike the one in her dream of him turning his back on her, and shakes his head. "No, no, she's not dead."
Claire smacks him lightly on the shoulder for scaring her like that. What other reason would he be up here, drunk and surrounded by mess all around him, if she wasn't dead?
Peter struggles to stand and she allows him to lean on her a bit. He stumbles away from her, groaning, and picks something out of his pocket. He hands it to her, this envelope that's now folded and slightly ripped in places.
She opens it, pulls out the card inside, and reads:
You are invited to the wedding of Isaac Mendez and Simone Deveaux, on March 3, 2007...
Claire stops reading. "I'm sorry, Peter," she says, not knowing what else to say.
He takes the card out of her hand and places it gingerly back in the envelope, then shuts the envelope inside of the drawer next to the bed with brutal force. "It's not a big deal."
"Well, it has to be if this is how you're reacting - "
"Claire," he slices across her, "I don't - "
" - want to talk about it," she finishes bitterly. "Yeah, I know. Whatever."
She goes to turn away from him, maybe to fold her arms across her chest haughtily, but he grabs her shoulders. "Come on," he whispers against her ear, and his breath on her skin makes her shiver.
"I don't want to fight," he says, his mouth still painfully close to her ear. He squeezes her shoulders, as if picking up on how still she's standing, trying to relax her. "Especially since I'm going to be living here now. I don't want to fight."
"Then stop pissing me off," she says, but the words are much weaker than she wants them to be. It's because Peter's standing so close to her, touching her, that she can't be angry with him.
And his heart has just been broken. He doesn't need me making it worse.
Peter smirks softly, squeezes her shoulders again, and pulls her into a crushing hug. Claire hugs him back, relieved when his clutch on her eases a bit into something more gentle. He adjusts position, burying his head into her neck, and Claire feels herself stiffen again; he's never done that before. Her skin feels like it's vibrating; the stubble on his face scratches her collarbone, his spiky hair caresses her cheek, and his lips are definitely on her shoulder.
Claire sucks in a breath when he starts to stroke her hair. She's suddenly aware of how close they are, how pressed up against him she is, and she feels the heat rise to her cheeks. This is your uncle, she tells herself mentally, starting to feel awkward. He shouldn't be this close to her, he shouldn't be hugging her in this way, it's not right.
Sensing her discomfort, he pulls away, looking ashamed. "Sorry."
"It's okay," she says, feeling slightly sick.
She doesn't know if she feels sick because she's witnessing her hero having a breakdown or because the way he had held her had been a lot more than friendly.
Still, it had felt so satisfying to be so near to Peter. She had to admit, if he hadn't been completely out of it and more than a little drunk, she probably would have melted into him. Claire closes her eyes tightly as she muses on this. Oh, this is wrong, this is fucked up, ew, oh my God, why the hell do I want to hug him again?
Claire glances up at Peter , who's back on the floor, head in his hands. Peter looks just as bad as she feels, and she reminds herself that he probably feels worse.
She berates herself for feeling this way, feeling disgusted with herself. He gave you a hug and you're blowing it out of proportion. He's depressed about Simone, and you're overanalyzing a freaking hug.
Her conversation with Nathan before he left for New York rushes back to her. He had told her that Peter said there was nothing left for him in New York anymore.
By nothing, he had meant Simone.
Peter's not staying in California to be with her, he's staying in California to get away from Simone.
The fact that Claire feels a pang of jealousy at this realization makes her feel the sickest of all.
*
Read the next chapter here!
A/N: Just so ya'll know, this probably won't be updated for a week or so. It's my turn to write a chapter for the Paire Round Robin and I want to focus my attention on that for a little bit. :) If you haven't read the Paire Round Robin yet, go HERE! ♥
Thanks to rtwofan for the original manip of the fic art. :)
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