"Rolling Dice and Messiahs," Claire, Jordan, PG
Title - Rolling Dice and Messiahs
Rating - PG
Characters - Claire Bennet (Heroes) and Jordan Coiller (The 4400), implied Claire/Andy and Claire/Jordan
Written for - pretty_stickers, prompt 01.
Spoilers/Warnings - Up through 1.20 "Five Years Gone" and implied spoilers for the first three seasons of "The 4400"
Summary - Drove for hours and hours until the only city for hours and hours had bright lights, gambling and hope.
Disclaimer - I do not own "Heroes" nor "The 4400;" I'm just borrowing the characters briefly before giving them back intact.
Muted shouts of laughter and cheers filter through the casino. Thirty-two hours ago she stood across from her father while he told her to leave town, be safe, go alone. She left, a small bag on her back, and a desperate note on the counter, begging for Andy to understand.
She thought about bringing him with (she nearly did), but in the end, the survival instinct took over, and she fled - alone. Drove for hours and hours until the only city for hours and hours had bright lights, gambling and hope.
She stands now next to the craps table in the MGM Grand. She likes to watch the dice, red and white against the green carpet. She likes the uncertainty of their movement - there is nothing preordained about the rolling of dice, just luck; warm, safe and surprising.
At four fifteen in the morning, few players are left at her table. She bets only when she has to to keep her seat, but she is pretty sure if she smiled and flirted with the young dealer, he would let her watch for free.
She hasn’t won anything, but then again, she hasn’t lost much either, and the moment’s uncertainty after the dice leave the player’s hand and before they land cause her stomach to twist into knots, and for just a second, she feels alive.
“May I play?” The voice is a soft, deep growl, and she turns to find a giant of a man asking to join their quiet game.
The two other men grunt, eyes trained to the board, and the dealer scowls ever so slightly, and she manages a brave smile and a shrug before she too turns her attention back to the green carpet.
He takes up in the space next to her, his large presence warm, solid and magnetic. She likes the feeling of him at her side - a bear ready and willing to protect its young. The skinny, buzzed man throws the dice, and his voice rumbles softly at her side, “I’m Jordan.”
Her eyes meet his, and she traces the lines fanning out from the corners, and the proud mouth framed by the chocolate brown hair. She should lie (any one of a dozen names could pass her lips and sound like her own name without effort), but the truth slips past her lips in a soft sigh of relief. “Claire.”
He inspects her closely, taking in her dusty jeans and creased, cropped top, dried and smudged mascara and her wounded soul shinning through her eyes. “You don’t belong here,” he speaks with certainty that the dice the skinny man throws again do not possess.
“I don’t belong anywhere.” She does not like the way his words get under her skin; the way her body and mind respond to his words without her heart’s consent. She does not want to get tangled up in any more webs (any more hearts or plots), but her mind has already decided that it wants his protection more than it wants to stop the bleeding of her heart.
The dealer calls for their bets; she puts money down for seven, him for a hard ten. “That’s not true. You have a destiny, Claire. You have a life you’re meant to live.”
She wants to tell him how that cannot be true - she has no life, no love, no family. She runs from everything, and if destiny has anything in store for her, it’s a life alone, friendless and loveless.
But when the skinny man throws two smiling fives on the red and white dice, his lucky win seems less like chance and more like fate. He cashes out then, leaving the dealer half his winnings and a patient knowing look after her.
She could let him know what she believes just then - that her connection to him, the way his words affected her, were as unplanned as the two fives that just turned up on the table, but for that to happen she would have to believe only in chance - the luck of the die and nothing else.
She has been a sucker for destiny before, and so she really shouldn’t act so surprised when she tosses forty down on the table for the dealer and follows his warm shadow across the casino and out the doors to her new life.
Destiny has always found her, despite her hiding, crying, kicking and screaming. Chance will never rule her life - not the life of a former cheerleader whose father rules the free world. Not the girl who follows a messiah out the door (into his heart and bed) without a thought in the world.
Claire Bennet was never meant to roll dice in a casino alone, but she sometimes wishes that she was.
Feedback is love!
Rating - PG
Characters - Claire Bennet (Heroes) and Jordan Coiller (The 4400), implied Claire/Andy and Claire/Jordan
Written for - pretty_stickers, prompt 01.
Spoilers/Warnings - Up through 1.20 "Five Years Gone" and implied spoilers for the first three seasons of "The 4400"
Summary - Drove for hours and hours until the only city for hours and hours had bright lights, gambling and hope.
Disclaimer - I do not own "Heroes" nor "The 4400;" I'm just borrowing the characters briefly before giving them back intact.
Muted shouts of laughter and cheers filter through the casino. Thirty-two hours ago she stood across from her father while he told her to leave town, be safe, go alone. She left, a small bag on her back, and a desperate note on the counter, begging for Andy to understand.
She thought about bringing him with (she nearly did), but in the end, the survival instinct took over, and she fled - alone. Drove for hours and hours until the only city for hours and hours had bright lights, gambling and hope.
She stands now next to the craps table in the MGM Grand. She likes to watch the dice, red and white against the green carpet. She likes the uncertainty of their movement - there is nothing preordained about the rolling of dice, just luck; warm, safe and surprising.
At four fifteen in the morning, few players are left at her table. She bets only when she has to to keep her seat, but she is pretty sure if she smiled and flirted with the young dealer, he would let her watch for free.
She hasn’t won anything, but then again, she hasn’t lost much either, and the moment’s uncertainty after the dice leave the player’s hand and before they land cause her stomach to twist into knots, and for just a second, she feels alive.
“May I play?” The voice is a soft, deep growl, and she turns to find a giant of a man asking to join their quiet game.
The two other men grunt, eyes trained to the board, and the dealer scowls ever so slightly, and she manages a brave smile and a shrug before she too turns her attention back to the green carpet.
He takes up in the space next to her, his large presence warm, solid and magnetic. She likes the feeling of him at her side - a bear ready and willing to protect its young. The skinny, buzzed man throws the dice, and his voice rumbles softly at her side, “I’m Jordan.”
Her eyes meet his, and she traces the lines fanning out from the corners, and the proud mouth framed by the chocolate brown hair. She should lie (any one of a dozen names could pass her lips and sound like her own name without effort), but the truth slips past her lips in a soft sigh of relief. “Claire.”
He inspects her closely, taking in her dusty jeans and creased, cropped top, dried and smudged mascara and her wounded soul shinning through her eyes. “You don’t belong here,” he speaks with certainty that the dice the skinny man throws again do not possess.
“I don’t belong anywhere.” She does not like the way his words get under her skin; the way her body and mind respond to his words without her heart’s consent. She does not want to get tangled up in any more webs (any more hearts or plots), but her mind has already decided that it wants his protection more than it wants to stop the bleeding of her heart.
The dealer calls for their bets; she puts money down for seven, him for a hard ten. “That’s not true. You have a destiny, Claire. You have a life you’re meant to live.”
She wants to tell him how that cannot be true - she has no life, no love, no family. She runs from everything, and if destiny has anything in store for her, it’s a life alone, friendless and loveless.
But when the skinny man throws two smiling fives on the red and white dice, his lucky win seems less like chance and more like fate. He cashes out then, leaving the dealer half his winnings and a patient knowing look after her.
She could let him know what she believes just then - that her connection to him, the way his words affected her, were as unplanned as the two fives that just turned up on the table, but for that to happen she would have to believe only in chance - the luck of the die and nothing else.
She has been a sucker for destiny before, and so she really shouldn’t act so surprised when she tosses forty down on the table for the dealer and follows his warm shadow across the casino and out the doors to her new life.
Destiny has always found her, despite her hiding, crying, kicking and screaming. Chance will never rule her life - not the life of a former cheerleader whose father rules the free world. Not the girl who follows a messiah out the door (into his heart and bed) without a thought in the world.
Claire Bennet was never meant to roll dice in a casino alone, but she sometimes wishes that she was.
Feedback is love!