Everything Goes Dark 2/7
Title: Everything Goes Dark 2/7
Author: yaoi_anti_drug
Beta: ladywilde80, Matt, and Chris
Pairings: Claire/Peter (Unrequited), Nathan/Peter
Overall Pairings: Elle/Eden, Elle/Claire, Sylar/Mohinder, Peter/Sylar, Nathan/Peter, Elle/Adam, and Claire/Peter (unrequited)
Characters: Claire, Peter, Nathan, Angela, Bennet, Bob, and Elle
Genre: Drama, Angst, Dark Future Fic
Rating: PG-13
Summary: An AU fic based on the Five Years Gone Verse
Word Count: A little over 3,950
Spoilers: Light spoilers for Volumes 1 and 2 & Elle's First Assignment
Overall Warnings: Violence, Character Death, Sex, Incest (Graphic Only In Chapter 2), Non-Con (Only In Chapter 6)
Notes: Dedicated to slavefaith. And a big thank you to ladywilde80 for helping me with the inspiration and to Matt and Chris for giving me the courage to post! Constructive criticism is always loved and comments, even if it’s to say you hate it, are always appreciated too. Title from "Everything Goes Dark" by The Hoosiers
Disclaimer: I don't own anything, if I did, well...wouldn't Heroes be interesting?
Chapter One
Everything Goes Dark 2/7:
The world of the Petrelli's was concocted of conditioned behavior and a stringent code of conduct. It was theirs alone; the rest of society was blissfully oblivious to their unique moral code.
For Claire Bennet, it proved to be similar to living on an entirely different planet.
Granted, she was thankful for this family; after all, Peter had saved her life while her father had been hunting for the serial killer fugitive in all the wrong places. Noah Bennet later informed her that a venture for her safety - one that had evidently failed - was the reason he had not been there to protect her.
That being said, this building she was confined to for her 'own safety' remained cold and reeking of ghosts yet to be buried. Countless secrets lay sewn deep within the walls. Claire felt tainted just sitting down in the living room.
Nonetheless, she made an attempt to make the best of her situation. She did housework here and there in order to lessen the sensation of being a burden; although, the chance was often stolen by the resident maids. Yes, plural.
She stayed out of their way as much as possible and kept to herself, except the few times when Nathan wished to talk with her.
Though she felt only contempt for the false emotions Nathan tried to force on her, she told herself she had to at least make an effort; she'd promised her real father that she wouldn't make trouble. It made her downright sick to pretend to believe Nathan Petrelli's remorse for even a moment. Withal, she went through the motions anyhow. Smile and nod, over and over, until she was ready to explode.
Claire sat on the mattress in the spare room she'd been given, staring out the window and contemplating what was going to happen to her. Peter was in a coma, and she couldn't help but wonder if it was her fault. Regardless of who was to blame, she was sure he'd be fine. He had to be.
Then there came a knock on the door as a voice pierced her meditations.
“It's me. Peter.”
Claire jumped, eyes wide. It couldn't be...
She rushed to the door, fumbling with the knob. When she finally freed it, a wide grin spread across her face, “Peter! You're okay!”
Peter smiled at her and nodded. “Yeah, I'm fine. Listen, Nathan and mom don't know I'm here... Can I come in?”
Claire's brow furrowed, “They don't... Peter, what's going on?” She allowed him inside and closed the door behind them, eyes steady on their target.
She tried to assess the situation without any more questions. Peter was clearly stressed. His hair was matted down, not fluffy and wild like it should have been.
As much as he tried to hide it, his opaque eyes were fraught with apprehension. His demeanor likened that of when she'd last seen him, when he had been imprisoned in Odessa.
“You're totally my Hero.”
Merely reminiscing on her smitten words caused her to smile all too much. She quickly pushed the recollection into the back of her mind; it was wrong to still be thinking in such a fashion.
The fact was that the first time she'd met Peter, she had fallen for him. What teenage girl wouldn't? He was dashing, with an adorable little lop-sided smile and bright, hopeful eyes.
He had saved her life. Protected her to the point of death, and even beyond that.
Yet, he was also her Uncle. She had not learned quite how to act around him as this was the first she'd seen of him since being entrusted the upsetting news. Well, the first time where he was conscious. She'd tried to forget her feelings for him, but it was difficult; even if guilt engulfed her whenever she thought about him.
He was her Uncle and that should matter. Nevertheless, as they caught each others gaze, she was confident she didn't care about the inappropriate nature of her feelings. She was in love with Peter Petrelli, no matter his relation to her.
It was sick, it was disgusting, and it was reprehensible She was well aware of that. But it was also utterly heartbreaking.
“I need to talk to you,” Peter said, ending the terrible silence.
“Yeah, I guessed as much. What is it?” Claire replied, not wanting to wait any longer. She was anxious enough as it was.
“I need to leave. I'm afraid I'm going to hurt a lot of people.”
“What do you mean, Peter? You wouldn't...”
“Not on purpose,” he interrupted, trying his hardest to explain this sensibly before realizing there was no way to say it without sounding crazy, “I had a dream. And I think it's going to happen. I think I'm going to blow up and kill a lot of innocent people.”
The words spouting from Peter's mouth would seem insane to most anyone else, but to Claire, they were plausible. She'd witnessed a lot of remarkable things that should have been impossible and because of those events, she was more than prepared to accept whatever Peter said as truth.
“Maybe even you.” Peter continued, fingers reaching out to caress her cheek for a moment before retracting it, frowning. “I just can't chance your life, or Nathan's.. or anyone else. I have to leave.”
“Let me go with you, Peter,” Claire implored, edging closer to him, “I can't die. Neither can you. We can go somewhere safe...”
“No, Claire, you have to stay here. You still have a chance at a normal life and you should take it. We can't be sure of your limits, or mine. I just want to protect you.”
Wrong thing to say. The craze that had been rising inside of her finally found its opportunity to escape, “You don't have to protect me! I can take care of myself!”
Peter shook his head, lips set and resolute. “No. I only came back because I wanted you to know that I didn't abandon you...”
“But you are abandoning me!” Claire's features were twisted into a combination of hatred and sorrow.
“I'm not! Once I have control over this, I'll be back. Okay? I'll be back.” His hand again found its way to Claire's cheek and she involuntarily leaned into it. He smiled warmly, leaning forward to kiss her lightly on the forehead.
Claire's eyes shut and when she opened them, his touch as well as Peter himself had vanished. The door shut, Peter was gone, leaving her alone in her prison. She felt so cold, rubbing her arms roughly to try and cure the sudden freeze. Her forehead tingled with concealed desire, wishing he would have stayed longer, so much longer; forever.
------------------------
Peter returned home much sooner than expected. He was dead. Claire couldn't believe it, even when faced with his motionless, pallid corpse on the couch. Nathan was holding him in his arms, sobbing. Tears leaked from her own eyes just observing the poignant scene.
“No.” He was like her, he could heal. He couldn't be dead.
She had lived through worse and she knew it.
Once she was alone with him, she began to say her goodbyes prior to remembering that she'd once been struck in the head, presumed dead, but when the pressure had been released... She pulled the glass out and Peter awoke from his supposedly eternal slumber. Alive and well once more.
None of the family took his resurrection for granted, Claire included. However, she wasn't able to be with him as often as she would have preferred. He was spending most of his time with Nathan.
While searching for him one day, she heard his voice radiating from Nathan's Office, her biological father with him. She couldn't hear exactly what they were discussing, but whatever it was, it was heated. The brothers were close, she recognized that, so she resolved to leave them be. She'd get her chance with Peter soon enough.
When she pivoted on her heels, she caught movement out of the corner of her eye that compelled her to turn right back around.
Nathan's arms were wrapped around his brother's shoulders and it almost looked like they were hugging until she saw the curve of Peter's neck, the way his head swayed with motion, the grip Peter returned to Nathan's shoulders.
Kissing. They were kissing.
“Oh god,” she whispered. In a panic, she found sanctuary in her room.
She breathed heavily, trying to decipher what she'd observed. Maybe she was mistaken... No. She had imagined no such act. It had really happened.
Brothers indeed. Her father and her uncle. She couldn't fathom why. But, she had not been raised here, she had not experienced whatever circumstances that had led to... that, so she shouldn't be the one to judge, especially while being enamored with Peter herself.
Yet, she did. As unfair as it was, Claire passed judgment.
She wondered if she should say something, but to whom? Who the hell would believe her anyway?
So she decided to keep her mouth shut. She would pretend as though she had been a witness to nothing. It was her only option. They weren't really harming anyone, except for the injury done to her own, already crushed heart.
------------------------
After liberating himself from that horrid cell those people had tried to detain him in, Sylar went after the man responsible for his transformation. The one that had enticed him with an elaborate crown of laurels and then snatched it away.
Sylar savored the achievement that Chandra's demise signified. Weak Gabriel Gray was finally slain. No more pesky second thoughts about his chosen destiny. Not anymore. Chandra had no powers, and therefore, he was of no real consequence. Sylar was free, at long last, to act upon whatever was necessary to assure himself an illustrious position in this wretched world.
There was yet one other he yearned to dispatch of. It was his way of thanking her; by not letting the girl drown herself in guilt. But Elle's location was more difficult to identify than he would have liked, so, currently, he set his goals a tad lower.
He tracked down the people on Chandra's list, the few he could recollect. He'd find them here and there, but the real prize was the invincible cheerleader. An Immortal. It was her ability he coveted more than any other.
Blinded by his early success, he foolishly rushed in too soon. As a result of his lack of planning, he'd failed to kill that bratty blonde teen.
Sylar had been forced to take a few personal days following the disappointment. The traumas he'd undertaken from the fall were serious. Once he was healed, he set out once more.
Dispatching Zane Taylor involved no real effort, as did taking his place. All he had to do was mimic insecurity and harbor a naive wish to save the world in order to worm his way into Mohinder Suresh's life.
It was so poetic to have murdered his father and then to travel around with him disguised in a dead man's skin. It became increasingly satisfying as Sylar sensed his dependence on this mask of his.
Mohinder was lonely, craving for someone, anyone, to have faith in him, to support him.
Sylar - Zane - gave him precisely that. One dreary, cold motel night heavy with words of confirmation and sympathy was all it took for him to open up in every way possible. Sylar didn't hesitant to take advantage.
Who could refuse such a sweet offering? Even Sylar had needs and Mohinder was the absolutely perfect candidate to fill those demands.
His oh so warm, caramel skin; the untouched divinity of him. That purity. It was like plundering consecrated ground. Paradise. Sylar almost didn't want his trickery to cease.
But, as they say, all good things must come to an end. A few nights later, Mohinder learned the truth. He deceived Sylar in return - a feat in itself - and tortured him before seeking to terminate his life.
It didn't take much to usurp the scientist's control over the situation. All that was left was to gather the information he required to move on to his next conquest.
His endeavors were all for nothing as the man he'd encountered when going after the cheerleader interrupted and gave Mohinder the liberation he needed to strike.
Strong, resilient Mohinder. Sylar respected him more than anybody else, even more than the one like him. Of course, the geneticist had ruined much of his plans by destroying the List and running off with the body of the empath. Even so, as a reward for his unparalleled spirit, Sylar presented him with his continued existence.
Mohinder had earned that much and he was sure the Indian's regret would do much more damage than death ever could.
Sylar moved on to reap the painter's ability, gaining knowledge of the destiny of New York City. And it was his fault.
But how, and why?
He would not kill so many innocent unless they were in the way of his supreme goal. The people he would slaughter when he exploded did not deserve such a fate. They'd done nothing to him, why would he harm them?
When Mohinder rejected his plea for help, he was left with his last resort. Visiting his mother did not improve his situation, it instead served to make matters worse. Not only did she deny what he'd become, he accidentally murdered her with her own scissors.
At least she'd given him an idea, so her death wasn't a complete waste. President. And he could do it. Painting again, something changed. It wasn't Sylar who destroyed New York; it was the empath. He would absorb the power of a man who came to New York in the search of revenge and soon find he wasn't capable of controlling it.
Sylar could manipulate this new future in his favor. The first step was to survive. He did not have the girl's immortality and so, he had to run. It was cowardly, but before he would be able to fulfill his mother's dying wish, he had to endure through Peter's incompetence.
He discerned exactly what to do after the United States succumbed to pandemonium; he simply had to put his flawless plan into action.
------------------------
When .07% of the population was unceremoniously executed in less than two seconds time, Claire was miles away. She had been returned to her father on the bidding of Angela Petrelli. She'd told them to hide themselves, leaving behind the eerie warning humanity was about to change.
Neither had truly comprehended her premonition until they saw the morning news after the incident. From there, the nation was hurled into a gigantic, unbridled downward spiral.
The society in which they all lived was indeed permanently altered. People were running, hiding, being captured left and right, many killed as a response to the rallying cry of “for the safety of our children.”
It was pure chaos and in it, there was one beacon of light. Claire's own father. Nathan was a true opportunist. His clever campaign utterly repulsed her.
She thought back on the last time she'd seen Nathan. He and Peter... She pondered how many years that had been going on and if Angela knew. If anybody knew.
Had his relationship with his brother been the reason Peter had denied being with her? It certainly had not been ethics that stopped him; perhaps it was fidelity.
It no longer served any purpose to reflect on it. It was over and done with. Peter had exploded, killing millions of people and maybe even himself while Nathan became a ray of hope to the people of the U.S., all except for those unique individuals such as herself.
He'd covered up Peter's mistake by blaming it on Sylar. Claire speculated it was a rouse straight away. Peter had seemed convinced it was he who was going to explode. There had not been a single mention of Sylar. But she had not seen it with her own eyes, it was possible it had ultimately occurred the way Nathan had said.
No matter how it'd gone down, it was the reason for this drastically changing nation. She was alienated more than before, now by her own devices as well as her father's advice.
With the assistance of some of his old associates, Bennet formed an organization to help those in need of protection in this radically unstable universe. He relocated specials to safer communities, and once there was a way to indicate the DNA of a mutant - discovered by Dr. Suresh, a name today made legendary by the global community - he gave them a container of liquid that would modify their blood smears to convey 'normality'.
He aided as many as he could, even his own daughter. Claire was resettled back in Texas, finding a home in Midland with a job as a waitress at the Burnt Toast Diner. She had also adopted a new appearance. The purpose was to add to the perpetual effort of remaining invisible to those who might otherwise harm her.
She hated it, and not just the strange brunette hair. The existence itself. It was all cowering and staying under the radar; repetitive, disturbing, and maddening all at the same time.
A paranoid six months crawled by until, one morning, Claire received a phone call. She was going to have a roommate.
------------------------
“Please, Bennet, I need your help,” Bob pleaded. The man was practically on his knees and that alone revolted his daughter. That he'd sink so low as to go groveling to Bennet...
Elle's arms were crossed as she observed the deplorable scene. So far, Bennet wasn't budging.
“Why should I help you, after everything you've done?” Bennet asked calmly.
“Things are just going to get worse. The Haitian took Adam to Nathan. Suresh will figure something out by studying his blood, and who knows what that could be! I need to be assured that my daughter is safe.. Please, Bennet, I beg of you. For Elle's sake.”
Elle rolled her eyes as Bennet glanced at her. Horn-Rimmed Glasses smiled, “It doesn't seem as though she wants my help.”
Her father's glare promised wrath, but Elle didn't falter.
“You're right, I don't want your help. I'm not sure why I'm here... We can protect ourselves,” Elle responded indignantly.
Bennet raised a brow as Bob let out a nervous laugh. “You can appreciate how stubborn she is, Bennet... She doesn't know what's good for her. I do.”
“Yes, of course you do, Bob.” Bennet said wryly. It was when he thought about all the things Bob had done to his daughter in the name of her 'own good' that he realized this was the first unselfish decision Bob had ever made for his daughter.
He sighed, surrendering, “Alright, I'll do it.”
“What!” Elle gasped..
“Oh god,” Bob sputtered out, “Thank you so much...”
“She will be safe where I'll send her, Bob. You've got nothing to worry about.”
Even with his tough, reassuring words, Elle could see the trace of a grin at the corner of his lips. He was up to something...
------------------------
Prior to heading to Texas, Elle's father forced her to promise to act accordingly and not stir up trouble. She was tempted to do it anyways, just to irritate him, but she'd seen the unadulterated fear in his eyes.
She didn't want to think the situation was so grave. She wanted to believe that she could still control it; but she couldn't. Nathan's power was unprecedented. He had almost everyone under his thumb, including the greatest asset the Company had: The Haitian.
Her father wasn't forsaking her, he was trying to save her life the only way he knew how.
So she showed up at Claire Bennet's doorway determined not to let him down, but then the cheerleader opened the door and all bets were off. Even with her recently adjusted appearance - blonde hair swapped for brunette, childish naiveté no where to be seen - Elle's jealousy welled up to the surface.
She had previously been told who she would be staying with, but seeing her was much different than envisioning it. The other girl had no clue who she was, but she knew Claire and that was all that mattered.
A frown engulfed her face, “Hello Claire.”
A small, bewildered smile appeared at Claire's lips. It would have been endearing had Elle not hated her. “You make it sound as if you know me.”
“I do,” she answered simply as she pushed her way inside the cozy apartment. Elle examined the room before turning, “You don't know me, but I know you. You're Claire Bennet, immortal cheerleader extraordinaire.”
“Well, it's the immortal waitress extraordinaire now... But, how do you know me?”
“I work... worked for the same Company your father did.”
“Oh,” Claire said, like it solved a puzzle. She didn't inquire any further, she frankly didn't want to. “So... what's your name?”
“Elle Bishop."
“Well then, welcome to my humble abode. Any idea how long you'll be staying here? My father didn't mention anything about it.”
“Why, you want me out already? Got a boyfriend you want to be able to bring over?” Elle rudely probed, doing so only in the spirit of spite.
Claire appeared offended and Elle smirked.
“No, I'm not planning on bringing anyone over. I'm not dating for one and two, I was merely curious. You don't need to get bitchy. Do you have some sort of issue with me or something?”
Elle shrugged, “Maybe.”
“Well then, if that's the case, you can just leave.”
“What?” Elle asked, stunned the girl was actually standing up for herself. She wasn't used to people doing that, especially not perfect little dolls like Claire.
“You heard me. I don't have to take you in. I was doing it because I was trying to help, but it seems as though you don't want or need it. So get out and go find some place else.” Claire spoke firmly, clearly not willing to tolerate Elle's attitude.
Elle grimaced, “But, your father...”
“I don't take my father's orders as you seem to think. He's not my boss. He asked me to give you a place to stay. I had a choice of yes or no, and I said yes. Now I'm regretting that choice and I can take back my offer at any time. So, unless you get your shit together and stop acting like a child, I'll do so.”
Elle was aware of the phrase 'being owned' and she was completely positive that was what had just happened; although, she would never admit it out loud. Her mouth opened to say something witty in return, but her brain snatched at nothing but air so, instead, she shut her mouth.
“You understand me then. Going to be good?” Claire persisted.
Elle's lips twisted into a snarl, but she nodded in compliance.
Claire accepted this and proceeded, “You're going to be sleeping on the futon until we're sure on how long you're going to be here. I'll pay for food and other necessities until you get yourself a job. And you do have to get one. I'm not rich, you're going to have to provide for yourself after you get settled in.”
Elle agreed to all regulations, minding her tongue so they didn't get into another argument. Claire held the power here. It was up to her whether she was able to stay here or was cast out into a volatile world where she'd be unhesitatingly murdered if someone so much as suggested she had an ability.
Chapter Three
Author: yaoi_anti_drug
Beta: ladywilde80, Matt, and Chris
Pairings: Claire/Peter (Unrequited), Nathan/Peter
Overall Pairings: Elle/Eden, Elle/Claire, Sylar/Mohinder, Peter/Sylar, Nathan/Peter, Elle/Adam, and Claire/Peter (unrequited)
Characters: Claire, Peter, Nathan, Angela, Bennet, Bob, and Elle
Genre: Drama, Angst, Dark Future Fic
Rating: PG-13
Summary: An AU fic based on the Five Years Gone Verse
Word Count: A little over 3,950
Spoilers: Light spoilers for Volumes 1 and 2 & Elle's First Assignment
Overall Warnings: Violence, Character Death, Sex, Incest (Graphic Only In Chapter 2), Non-Con (Only In Chapter 6)
Notes: Dedicated to slavefaith. And a big thank you to ladywilde80 for helping me with the inspiration and to Matt and Chris for giving me the courage to post! Constructive criticism is always loved and comments, even if it’s to say you hate it, are always appreciated too. Title from "Everything Goes Dark" by The Hoosiers
Disclaimer: I don't own anything, if I did, well...wouldn't Heroes be interesting?
Chapter One
Everything Goes Dark 2/7:
The world of the Petrelli's was concocted of conditioned behavior and a stringent code of conduct. It was theirs alone; the rest of society was blissfully oblivious to their unique moral code.
For Claire Bennet, it proved to be similar to living on an entirely different planet.
Granted, she was thankful for this family; after all, Peter had saved her life while her father had been hunting for the serial killer fugitive in all the wrong places. Noah Bennet later informed her that a venture for her safety - one that had evidently failed - was the reason he had not been there to protect her.
That being said, this building she was confined to for her 'own safety' remained cold and reeking of ghosts yet to be buried. Countless secrets lay sewn deep within the walls. Claire felt tainted just sitting down in the living room.
Nonetheless, she made an attempt to make the best of her situation. She did housework here and there in order to lessen the sensation of being a burden; although, the chance was often stolen by the resident maids. Yes, plural.
She stayed out of their way as much as possible and kept to herself, except the few times when Nathan wished to talk with her.
Though she felt only contempt for the false emotions Nathan tried to force on her, she told herself she had to at least make an effort; she'd promised her real father that she wouldn't make trouble. It made her downright sick to pretend to believe Nathan Petrelli's remorse for even a moment. Withal, she went through the motions anyhow. Smile and nod, over and over, until she was ready to explode.
Claire sat on the mattress in the spare room she'd been given, staring out the window and contemplating what was going to happen to her. Peter was in a coma, and she couldn't help but wonder if it was her fault. Regardless of who was to blame, she was sure he'd be fine. He had to be.
Then there came a knock on the door as a voice pierced her meditations.
“It's me. Peter.”
Claire jumped, eyes wide. It couldn't be...
She rushed to the door, fumbling with the knob. When she finally freed it, a wide grin spread across her face, “Peter! You're okay!”
Peter smiled at her and nodded. “Yeah, I'm fine. Listen, Nathan and mom don't know I'm here... Can I come in?”
Claire's brow furrowed, “They don't... Peter, what's going on?” She allowed him inside and closed the door behind them, eyes steady on their target.
She tried to assess the situation without any more questions. Peter was clearly stressed. His hair was matted down, not fluffy and wild like it should have been.
As much as he tried to hide it, his opaque eyes were fraught with apprehension. His demeanor likened that of when she'd last seen him, when he had been imprisoned in Odessa.
“You're totally my Hero.”
Merely reminiscing on her smitten words caused her to smile all too much. She quickly pushed the recollection into the back of her mind; it was wrong to still be thinking in such a fashion.
The fact was that the first time she'd met Peter, she had fallen for him. What teenage girl wouldn't? He was dashing, with an adorable little lop-sided smile and bright, hopeful eyes.
He had saved her life. Protected her to the point of death, and even beyond that.
Yet, he was also her Uncle. She had not learned quite how to act around him as this was the first she'd seen of him since being entrusted the upsetting news. Well, the first time where he was conscious. She'd tried to forget her feelings for him, but it was difficult; even if guilt engulfed her whenever she thought about him.
He was her Uncle and that should matter. Nevertheless, as they caught each others gaze, she was confident she didn't care about the inappropriate nature of her feelings. She was in love with Peter Petrelli, no matter his relation to her.
It was sick, it was disgusting, and it was reprehensible She was well aware of that. But it was also utterly heartbreaking.
“I need to talk to you,” Peter said, ending the terrible silence.
“Yeah, I guessed as much. What is it?” Claire replied, not wanting to wait any longer. She was anxious enough as it was.
“I need to leave. I'm afraid I'm going to hurt a lot of people.”
“What do you mean, Peter? You wouldn't...”
“Not on purpose,” he interrupted, trying his hardest to explain this sensibly before realizing there was no way to say it without sounding crazy, “I had a dream. And I think it's going to happen. I think I'm going to blow up and kill a lot of innocent people.”
The words spouting from Peter's mouth would seem insane to most anyone else, but to Claire, they were plausible. She'd witnessed a lot of remarkable things that should have been impossible and because of those events, she was more than prepared to accept whatever Peter said as truth.
“Maybe even you.” Peter continued, fingers reaching out to caress her cheek for a moment before retracting it, frowning. “I just can't chance your life, or Nathan's.. or anyone else. I have to leave.”
“Let me go with you, Peter,” Claire implored, edging closer to him, “I can't die. Neither can you. We can go somewhere safe...”
“No, Claire, you have to stay here. You still have a chance at a normal life and you should take it. We can't be sure of your limits, or mine. I just want to protect you.”
Wrong thing to say. The craze that had been rising inside of her finally found its opportunity to escape, “You don't have to protect me! I can take care of myself!”
Peter shook his head, lips set and resolute. “No. I only came back because I wanted you to know that I didn't abandon you...”
“But you are abandoning me!” Claire's features were twisted into a combination of hatred and sorrow.
“I'm not! Once I have control over this, I'll be back. Okay? I'll be back.” His hand again found its way to Claire's cheek and she involuntarily leaned into it. He smiled warmly, leaning forward to kiss her lightly on the forehead.
Claire's eyes shut and when she opened them, his touch as well as Peter himself had vanished. The door shut, Peter was gone, leaving her alone in her prison. She felt so cold, rubbing her arms roughly to try and cure the sudden freeze. Her forehead tingled with concealed desire, wishing he would have stayed longer, so much longer; forever.
------------------------
Peter returned home much sooner than expected. He was dead. Claire couldn't believe it, even when faced with his motionless, pallid corpse on the couch. Nathan was holding him in his arms, sobbing. Tears leaked from her own eyes just observing the poignant scene.
“No.” He was like her, he could heal. He couldn't be dead.
She had lived through worse and she knew it.
Once she was alone with him, she began to say her goodbyes prior to remembering that she'd once been struck in the head, presumed dead, but when the pressure had been released... She pulled the glass out and Peter awoke from his supposedly eternal slumber. Alive and well once more.
None of the family took his resurrection for granted, Claire included. However, she wasn't able to be with him as often as she would have preferred. He was spending most of his time with Nathan.
While searching for him one day, she heard his voice radiating from Nathan's Office, her biological father with him. She couldn't hear exactly what they were discussing, but whatever it was, it was heated. The brothers were close, she recognized that, so she resolved to leave them be. She'd get her chance with Peter soon enough.
When she pivoted on her heels, she caught movement out of the corner of her eye that compelled her to turn right back around.
Nathan's arms were wrapped around his brother's shoulders and it almost looked like they were hugging until she saw the curve of Peter's neck, the way his head swayed with motion, the grip Peter returned to Nathan's shoulders.
Kissing. They were kissing.
“Oh god,” she whispered. In a panic, she found sanctuary in her room.
She breathed heavily, trying to decipher what she'd observed. Maybe she was mistaken... No. She had imagined no such act. It had really happened.
Brothers indeed. Her father and her uncle. She couldn't fathom why. But, she had not been raised here, she had not experienced whatever circumstances that had led to... that, so she shouldn't be the one to judge, especially while being enamored with Peter herself.
Yet, she did. As unfair as it was, Claire passed judgment.
She wondered if she should say something, but to whom? Who the hell would believe her anyway?
So she decided to keep her mouth shut. She would pretend as though she had been a witness to nothing. It was her only option. They weren't really harming anyone, except for the injury done to her own, already crushed heart.
------------------------
After liberating himself from that horrid cell those people had tried to detain him in, Sylar went after the man responsible for his transformation. The one that had enticed him with an elaborate crown of laurels and then snatched it away.
Sylar savored the achievement that Chandra's demise signified. Weak Gabriel Gray was finally slain. No more pesky second thoughts about his chosen destiny. Not anymore. Chandra had no powers, and therefore, he was of no real consequence. Sylar was free, at long last, to act upon whatever was necessary to assure himself an illustrious position in this wretched world.
There was yet one other he yearned to dispatch of. It was his way of thanking her; by not letting the girl drown herself in guilt. But Elle's location was more difficult to identify than he would have liked, so, currently, he set his goals a tad lower.
He tracked down the people on Chandra's list, the few he could recollect. He'd find them here and there, but the real prize was the invincible cheerleader. An Immortal. It was her ability he coveted more than any other.
Blinded by his early success, he foolishly rushed in too soon. As a result of his lack of planning, he'd failed to kill that bratty blonde teen.
Sylar had been forced to take a few personal days following the disappointment. The traumas he'd undertaken from the fall were serious. Once he was healed, he set out once more.
Dispatching Zane Taylor involved no real effort, as did taking his place. All he had to do was mimic insecurity and harbor a naive wish to save the world in order to worm his way into Mohinder Suresh's life.
It was so poetic to have murdered his father and then to travel around with him disguised in a dead man's skin. It became increasingly satisfying as Sylar sensed his dependence on this mask of his.
Mohinder was lonely, craving for someone, anyone, to have faith in him, to support him.
Sylar - Zane - gave him precisely that. One dreary, cold motel night heavy with words of confirmation and sympathy was all it took for him to open up in every way possible. Sylar didn't hesitant to take advantage.
Who could refuse such a sweet offering? Even Sylar had needs and Mohinder was the absolutely perfect candidate to fill those demands.
His oh so warm, caramel skin; the untouched divinity of him. That purity. It was like plundering consecrated ground. Paradise. Sylar almost didn't want his trickery to cease.
But, as they say, all good things must come to an end. A few nights later, Mohinder learned the truth. He deceived Sylar in return - a feat in itself - and tortured him before seeking to terminate his life.
It didn't take much to usurp the scientist's control over the situation. All that was left was to gather the information he required to move on to his next conquest.
His endeavors were all for nothing as the man he'd encountered when going after the cheerleader interrupted and gave Mohinder the liberation he needed to strike.
Strong, resilient Mohinder. Sylar respected him more than anybody else, even more than the one like him. Of course, the geneticist had ruined much of his plans by destroying the List and running off with the body of the empath. Even so, as a reward for his unparalleled spirit, Sylar presented him with his continued existence.
Mohinder had earned that much and he was sure the Indian's regret would do much more damage than death ever could.
Sylar moved on to reap the painter's ability, gaining knowledge of the destiny of New York City. And it was his fault.
But how, and why?
He would not kill so many innocent unless they were in the way of his supreme goal. The people he would slaughter when he exploded did not deserve such a fate. They'd done nothing to him, why would he harm them?
When Mohinder rejected his plea for help, he was left with his last resort. Visiting his mother did not improve his situation, it instead served to make matters worse. Not only did she deny what he'd become, he accidentally murdered her with her own scissors.
At least she'd given him an idea, so her death wasn't a complete waste. President. And he could do it. Painting again, something changed. It wasn't Sylar who destroyed New York; it was the empath. He would absorb the power of a man who came to New York in the search of revenge and soon find he wasn't capable of controlling it.
Sylar could manipulate this new future in his favor. The first step was to survive. He did not have the girl's immortality and so, he had to run. It was cowardly, but before he would be able to fulfill his mother's dying wish, he had to endure through Peter's incompetence.
He discerned exactly what to do after the United States succumbed to pandemonium; he simply had to put his flawless plan into action.
------------------------
When .07% of the population was unceremoniously executed in less than two seconds time, Claire was miles away. She had been returned to her father on the bidding of Angela Petrelli. She'd told them to hide themselves, leaving behind the eerie warning humanity was about to change.
Neither had truly comprehended her premonition until they saw the morning news after the incident. From there, the nation was hurled into a gigantic, unbridled downward spiral.
The society in which they all lived was indeed permanently altered. People were running, hiding, being captured left and right, many killed as a response to the rallying cry of “for the safety of our children.”
It was pure chaos and in it, there was one beacon of light. Claire's own father. Nathan was a true opportunist. His clever campaign utterly repulsed her.
She thought back on the last time she'd seen Nathan. He and Peter... She pondered how many years that had been going on and if Angela knew. If anybody knew.
Had his relationship with his brother been the reason Peter had denied being with her? It certainly had not been ethics that stopped him; perhaps it was fidelity.
It no longer served any purpose to reflect on it. It was over and done with. Peter had exploded, killing millions of people and maybe even himself while Nathan became a ray of hope to the people of the U.S., all except for those unique individuals such as herself.
He'd covered up Peter's mistake by blaming it on Sylar. Claire speculated it was a rouse straight away. Peter had seemed convinced it was he who was going to explode. There had not been a single mention of Sylar. But she had not seen it with her own eyes, it was possible it had ultimately occurred the way Nathan had said.
No matter how it'd gone down, it was the reason for this drastically changing nation. She was alienated more than before, now by her own devices as well as her father's advice.
With the assistance of some of his old associates, Bennet formed an organization to help those in need of protection in this radically unstable universe. He relocated specials to safer communities, and once there was a way to indicate the DNA of a mutant - discovered by Dr. Suresh, a name today made legendary by the global community - he gave them a container of liquid that would modify their blood smears to convey 'normality'.
He aided as many as he could, even his own daughter. Claire was resettled back in Texas, finding a home in Midland with a job as a waitress at the Burnt Toast Diner. She had also adopted a new appearance. The purpose was to add to the perpetual effort of remaining invisible to those who might otherwise harm her.
She hated it, and not just the strange brunette hair. The existence itself. It was all cowering and staying under the radar; repetitive, disturbing, and maddening all at the same time.
A paranoid six months crawled by until, one morning, Claire received a phone call. She was going to have a roommate.
------------------------
“Please, Bennet, I need your help,” Bob pleaded. The man was practically on his knees and that alone revolted his daughter. That he'd sink so low as to go groveling to Bennet...
Elle's arms were crossed as she observed the deplorable scene. So far, Bennet wasn't budging.
“Why should I help you, after everything you've done?” Bennet asked calmly.
“Things are just going to get worse. The Haitian took Adam to Nathan. Suresh will figure something out by studying his blood, and who knows what that could be! I need to be assured that my daughter is safe.. Please, Bennet, I beg of you. For Elle's sake.”
Elle rolled her eyes as Bennet glanced at her. Horn-Rimmed Glasses smiled, “It doesn't seem as though she wants my help.”
Her father's glare promised wrath, but Elle didn't falter.
“You're right, I don't want your help. I'm not sure why I'm here... We can protect ourselves,” Elle responded indignantly.
Bennet raised a brow as Bob let out a nervous laugh. “You can appreciate how stubborn she is, Bennet... She doesn't know what's good for her. I do.”
“Yes, of course you do, Bob.” Bennet said wryly. It was when he thought about all the things Bob had done to his daughter in the name of her 'own good' that he realized this was the first unselfish decision Bob had ever made for his daughter.
He sighed, surrendering, “Alright, I'll do it.”
“What!” Elle gasped..
“Oh god,” Bob sputtered out, “Thank you so much...”
“She will be safe where I'll send her, Bob. You've got nothing to worry about.”
Even with his tough, reassuring words, Elle could see the trace of a grin at the corner of his lips. He was up to something...
------------------------
Prior to heading to Texas, Elle's father forced her to promise to act accordingly and not stir up trouble. She was tempted to do it anyways, just to irritate him, but she'd seen the unadulterated fear in his eyes.
She didn't want to think the situation was so grave. She wanted to believe that she could still control it; but she couldn't. Nathan's power was unprecedented. He had almost everyone under his thumb, including the greatest asset the Company had: The Haitian.
Her father wasn't forsaking her, he was trying to save her life the only way he knew how.
So she showed up at Claire Bennet's doorway determined not to let him down, but then the cheerleader opened the door and all bets were off. Even with her recently adjusted appearance - blonde hair swapped for brunette, childish naiveté no where to be seen - Elle's jealousy welled up to the surface.
She had previously been told who she would be staying with, but seeing her was much different than envisioning it. The other girl had no clue who she was, but she knew Claire and that was all that mattered.
A frown engulfed her face, “Hello Claire.”
A small, bewildered smile appeared at Claire's lips. It would have been endearing had Elle not hated her. “You make it sound as if you know me.”
“I do,” she answered simply as she pushed her way inside the cozy apartment. Elle examined the room before turning, “You don't know me, but I know you. You're Claire Bennet, immortal cheerleader extraordinaire.”
“Well, it's the immortal waitress extraordinaire now... But, how do you know me?”
“I work... worked for the same Company your father did.”
“Oh,” Claire said, like it solved a puzzle. She didn't inquire any further, she frankly didn't want to. “So... what's your name?”
“Elle Bishop."
“Well then, welcome to my humble abode. Any idea how long you'll be staying here? My father didn't mention anything about it.”
“Why, you want me out already? Got a boyfriend you want to be able to bring over?” Elle rudely probed, doing so only in the spirit of spite.
Claire appeared offended and Elle smirked.
“No, I'm not planning on bringing anyone over. I'm not dating for one and two, I was merely curious. You don't need to get bitchy. Do you have some sort of issue with me or something?”
Elle shrugged, “Maybe.”
“Well then, if that's the case, you can just leave.”
“What?” Elle asked, stunned the girl was actually standing up for herself. She wasn't used to people doing that, especially not perfect little dolls like Claire.
“You heard me. I don't have to take you in. I was doing it because I was trying to help, but it seems as though you don't want or need it. So get out and go find some place else.” Claire spoke firmly, clearly not willing to tolerate Elle's attitude.
Elle grimaced, “But, your father...”
“I don't take my father's orders as you seem to think. He's not my boss. He asked me to give you a place to stay. I had a choice of yes or no, and I said yes. Now I'm regretting that choice and I can take back my offer at any time. So, unless you get your shit together and stop acting like a child, I'll do so.”
Elle was aware of the phrase 'being owned' and she was completely positive that was what had just happened; although, she would never admit it out loud. Her mouth opened to say something witty in return, but her brain snatched at nothing but air so, instead, she shut her mouth.
“You understand me then. Going to be good?” Claire persisted.
Elle's lips twisted into a snarl, but she nodded in compliance.
Claire accepted this and proceeded, “You're going to be sleeping on the futon until we're sure on how long you're going to be here. I'll pay for food and other necessities until you get yourself a job. And you do have to get one. I'm not rich, you're going to have to provide for yourself after you get settled in.”
Elle agreed to all regulations, minding her tongue so they didn't get into another argument. Claire held the power here. It was up to her whether she was able to stay here or was cast out into a volatile world where she'd be unhesitatingly murdered if someone so much as suggested she had an ability.
Chapter Three