FIC: Numb: Chapter 1
Title: Numb
Rating: T (for now...)
Summary: It is seventy years into the future, and Claire's family and friends are gone. She's all alone. Ever since that day Sylar took her regenerative powers, she lost the ability to feel pain. Now she's loosing the ability to feel all together. Has she lost everything? She's resigning to an empty life, when Sylar pays her a very unexpected visit, offering her a proposition. Will she accept?
“Yes, yes I understand, but he cannot reschedule. He’s a very busy man. Well, I would suggest you get someone else to take care of your sick mother for the next couple of days, or you are going to lose this deal. Okay, good. What will I tell him? Nothing. Nothing has changed, there’s no need to disturb him. I’ll see you next week. Yeah. Uh huh. Bye.”
Claire - now known as Alessandra Brienne - hung up the phone, running her hands through her hair. It had been a long day. She always had long days working for Narciso Rodriguez, but those long days paid the bills.
Narciso Rodriguez was a top fashion designer in New York, and Claire (Alessandra) was one of his personal secretaries (oh yes, he had many). She mostly handled his phone calls and set up his appointments. One of the reasons she got the job was because she apparently had a “soothing phone voice,” and because she could handle his phone calls. Many people who called yelled, or tried to maneuver their way into his office without an appointment, or tried to cancel appointments, or tried to get out of contracts or deals. Claire was hired because she never wavered, and she never got emotional.
The pay was pretty darn good too, and the benefits were amazing (though she really didn’t need over half of them).
Mr. Rodriguez was a nice guy, all things considered, but he tended to get rather stressed around deadlines. Claire helped by keeping everything organized and making sure nothing changed last minute. In return, she had a paycheck every month, she had a very nice apartment, and her youthful appearance wasn’t questioned since everything in the fashion business was about looking younger and skinnier. She had been working there for the past few years, ever since her brother Lyle passed away.
She had known it was inevitable; she couldn’t die or grow old, but that didn’t mean everyone else would stop too. It had hurt more than she knew she could hurt when her parents died. She watched as her family and friends grew old, and she stayed the same. One by one, they all left her. Lyle was the only one left, and then he was gone. It happened so quickly - too quickly for Claire. Each one leaving was like a tear in her heart. She had so many that she could barely feel anything anymore.
She was used to not feeling pain - Sylar helped her with that - but she never thought that her emotions would leave her as well. Whether it was tied to that same night she lost the ability to feel pain or whether it was because she had no loved ones left, she felt numb. Her emotions were dulled.
She smiled, but it rarely reached her eyes. She laughed, but it sounded empty. She winked and flirted, but it meant nothing. She tried to cry, tried to mourn her lost family and friends, but the tears wouldn’t come. She yelled at stupid people on the phone, but she wasn’t really angry. She felt hollow - like a shell of the person she was. What was she if she couldn’t feel anything? A robot. A thing. An it. Not a person. Not a human being. Not a girl.
Forwarding the calls to the office to her cell phone (courtesy of her job), she pulled her coach bag over her shoulder. Cleaned up her desk, and walked over to Mr. Rodriguez’s office. Knocking quietly, Claire slowly pushed open the door and stepped in. “I’m leaving, Mr. Rodriguez. I forwarded your calls to my cell phone, and if you have any problems, you can call me.” She gave him a small smile, and was dismissed with a nod and a wave. He was in the middle of designing some new chic dress. Apparently it was the next big thing.
Her high heels clicked in the empty hallway and echoed as she walked towards the elevator. She was the last one left. It was after midnight, and every other sane person who had a social life had already left except for Mr. Rodriguez and his personal staff.
The elevator slowed and came to a stop with a soft little ‘ding!’ The doors opened, and Claire walked out into the lobby. “Have a nice night Miss Brienne!” The door guard said with an enthusiastic grin as he held the door open for her.
“Thank you Charlie,” Claire responded coolly and walked out into the cold winter night. She had a warm jacket to block out the chilled wind, but she didn’t need it. Cold was gone from her too.
Her phone vibrated in her hand, and she lifted it up, unsurprised, reading the caller. It was Jake, of course.
Jake worked with Mr. Rodriguez as well - he was a photographer. He flirted shamelessly with Claire the first day she came onto the set, and kept flirting and sending passes every time he saw her. He was extremely good looking, and to pass up his attentions would seem strange to everyone else. Besides, it wasn’t as if he was a bad guy. He was very sweet, very rich, very handsome, and very romantic. He was perfect, according to all the other workers in the building. So, Claire had accepted his requests for dinner dates, movies, romantic outings, and even let him take her up into his apartment for an apparently “life-changing” bottle of wine and a bouquet of red roses.
They had just come back from an evening at the opera, and he pleaded with her to come upstairs. Even with her muted feelings, the smallest pricks of nervousness fluttered in her stomach. She knew what was going to happen that night, and she was worried - or as worried as she could get. She was inexperienced, she hadn’t done anything with anyone before, and she wasn’t exactly sure what would happen.
She had no need to worry. He was a perfect gentleman. He poured the wine into two wine glasses set on his table, and made a toast to her. Though alcohol couldn’t affect her, she still enjoyed the taste of it. It was one of the only things she could feel - the burn as it slid down her throat. She wasn’t sure she would call the wine life changing, but she agreed with him that it did taste exceptional. They talked by candlelight with soft music in the background, he gazed into her eyes and kept murmuring her name and how beautiful she was, and then he asked her to dance. He took her hand and pulled her up out of her chair, bringing her gently into his arms. They swayed back and forth, his lips brushing against her cheek and her neck, his breath on her skin. His hands ran over the soft fabric of her dress, and he bent forwards, sliding Claire into a dip. His fingers ran down her cheek, and Claire was briefly reminded of that moment between Sylar and her with the wine many years ago, before he pressed his lips against hers in what she thought would be an incredible kiss.
She felt his tongue brush against her lower lip, and she parted them in acceptance, even closing her eyes, waiting for something to happen… Nothing. There was no tingle, no butterfly flutter… nothing. It wasn’t at all like the brief kisses she had shared over 70 years ago when she could feel. She felt the beginnings of the soft boil of anger in her gut. Was this really gone from her too?
He led her into the bedroom, pulling her onto Egyptian cotton sheets, lifting up the straps of her dress and slowly sliding them down her arms. His fingers danced across her skin, his mouth leaving trails of kisses along her collar bone and below as her dress slipped to the floor. Claire lay on the bed, trying to feel something, anything, as he touched her. There was still nothing. Beginning to feel desperate, she grabbed a fistful of his hair, pulling his head up to hers, kissing him forcefully. Nothing. Slowly pulling her hand from his hair, she let him continue his means of foreplay, his hands roaming her chest while his head dipped lower. Nothing. Claire closed her eyes, the first tear to grace her skin in years running down her cheek. That was when the night ended.
Claire made some excuse, saying she wasn’t ready, pulling her dress back on, giving him a kiss and telling him how amazing the night was. He was nice about it, understanding even, and told Claire he’d be ready whenever she was.
The phone vibrated again, pulling Claire out of her thoughts. That night had been a week ago, and she done anything with him since. She had been avoiding a few of his calls, but she couldn’t do it forever. Hailing a taxi, Claire answered, putting the phone to her ear. “Hey, Jake.” She said, sliding into the backseat of the yellow car. She told the cab driver her address.
“Hey Alessandra… I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for a while now.” He sounded worried.
“Yeah, I’m sorry Jake, I’ve just been really busy with this fashion show coming up. You know how Mr. Rodriguez gets.” The lie was easy.
“Yeah, I know. Look, I was wondering if you wanted to do something this weekend after the fashion show is over. Go grab some dinner somewhere, or go see a play. I have tickets to Phantom, I know how you’ve wanted to see that.” He was such a nice guy… he deserved a girl who would be able to appreciate that - a girl who could love him.
Love… Was Claire capable of even that?
“That sounds great, Jake,” Claire said softly. “I need to go, I’m at my apartment, but I’ll call you later, okay?” The cab stopped in front of her building, the cab driver turning to her and holding out his hand, pointing to the amount shown on the small screen on the dashboard.
Claire nodded, fishing through her purse for her cash.
“Okay. I’ll talk to you later Alessandra. I miss you.”
Claire gave the driver his money, with some extra for a tip, and stepped out of the cab. “I miss you too.” She ended the conversation, sticking the phone back in her purse. That lie was easy too.
She was on the fourth flour, and had half of that floor as her apartment. Her paychecks allowed her luxuries she never had before. Of course, whoever said money couldn’t buy happiness certainly was right. None of it made her happy - not the nice apartment, the Prada shoes and bags, the fashionable and expensive clothes, the designer furniture… nothing.
She set her bag on the kitchen table, and pulled out a bottle of Everclear and poured herself a small glass. She brought the glass to her lips, tipped her head back, and downed half of it. The burn made Claire smile. Everclear was 95% alcohol, and was illegal in most states. Of course it wouldn’t hurt Claire, but it gave her the closest feeling to pain or pleasure than anything else had. Swallowing the rest, she closed her eyes, the burning sensation leaving all too soon. Pouring herself another glass, she stuck the bottle back in her cabinet, walking into her room. Setting the glass on her bedside table, she slipped out of her skirt and blouse, setting her high-heeled shoes neatly in the empty space on the floor of her closet. She put on a laced-edge white tank and some matching cotton shorts, grabbing the glass.
She padded softly into her living room, grabbing the remote, turning on the tv, pressing play. She sat in her big comfy chair, pulling her knees to her chest. She took small sips of the everclear, and continued watching another home video. There were many of them, all in stacks hidden in cabinets. She had some from when she was little, and many more from later. Her family decided it would be a good idea, since Claire wouldn’t grow old. It would be a way for her to remember them, and still see them. Every night she put in a DVD, watched recorded memories of days when she was happy and loved and not stuck in a life that meant nothing - absolutely nothing.
Let me know what you think! =)
(Sorry that Sylar hasn't made his cameo in this first chapter. I needed to lay down the background story and Claire's situation first. He'll be coming in soon, though!)
~Reiney