Letters to My Niece (1/?)
Title: Letters to My Niece (1/?)
Author: lit_chick08
Rating: NC-17 overall
Pairing: Paire, Claire/West, Peter/Elle, Claire/Adam Monroe
Word Count: 6558
Spoilers: Everything shown thus far, including Season 2. I’m picking and choosing what I like, so you could be potentially spoiled if you haven’t seen the latest episodes
Summary: When everything starts to spiral out of control, Peter realizes that he needs Claire to give up the normal life he forced on her to help save the world once again. The only problem? She isn’t sure she wants to anymore
A/N: This is a sequel to “Letters to My Uncle,” which can be found HERE. You might be confused if you try to read this one without reading the first one.
A/N2: I know that I promised I would have the next part of “Ring of Fire” out soon, but it’s just not cooperating right now. Half of the chapter is written and it’s stalled. I’m hoping getting this out will help it.
The first letter came two weeks after Peter had returned to New York with Nathan. It had been waiting for her when she came home from school, innocuously sitting between the electric bill and a sale paper. She almost didn’t recognize the handwriting and then, when she did, she felt a stab of excitement, anxiety, and fear shoot through her. Every instinct in her body told her to rip open the envelope and read what he wrote to her, but she knew that she couldn’t do it while West was here, so she slipped into her pocket.
It felt like an eternity until she could finally open it. Her mother had invited West for dinner, and there was no way for her to get away. She had considered sneaking into the bathroom, but if the letter broke her heart, she knew that she’d start to cry and her cover would be blown. All through dinner she felt like an addict in withdrawal, counting the seconds until she could get her next fix. When it came time for West to leave, she had all but shoved him out the front door with the promise to call him later before lying to her parents about a report she needed to write in order to gain some privacy.
Her hands shook as she opened the envelope addressed to Claire Butler of Costa Verde, California, afraid of what they’d find, afraid of what they wouldn’t.
As Claire slipped the piece of folded loose-leaf out, something fell into her lap. Carefully, she picked it up and realized exactly what it was: a pink rose, dried and pressed, a gift for her.
Touched, she finally began to read what he had written.
Dear Claire,
I never knew how hard it was to start completely over until I came back here. Nathan thought that I’d be like before, that life would return to normal, but of course it hasn’t. My apartment is still here, though cleaned in an obsessive fit by my mother, and my friends (which I do have, though you’ve never met them) are still here, but I feel like I’m not here anymore. It’s like you thought back in Costa Verde: I am not the same Peter that I was before Sylar.
My mother cried when she saw me, great, heaving sobs, and I felt so bad for her, Claire. I know that you think that she’s a monster, but she just sounded like any other mother who had discovered her child wasn’t really dead. I’m sorry that I can’t hate her with you; I just don’t have it in me.
Heidi brought the boys to see me, much to Nathan’s irritation. They’ve been living in DC with Heidi’s family since Nathan started drinking, and he hadn’t seen them in three months. I know that you’ve never met them, but you’d really like Simon and Monty; they’re good kids. It felt so surreal to have them jumping on me and calling me Uncle Peter again.
Simon and Monty are my nephews and you are my niece; these are things that I know intellectually, but in my heart, Simon and Monty are my nephews and you…well, you’re you.
I’ve thought about that night so many times, Claire, and every time I do, I pick up the phone to call you, but I can never get the words to come out right. So I guess what I want to say to you is this: I love you, I miss you, I wish I was in California or you were in New York. Those are the selfish thoughts that I have, the ones that I keep refusing to call and tell you about.
I can’t be selfish here. I hope that you’re doing well and that you’re moving on. It’s unhealthy for both of us if you aren’t.
All of my love,
Peter
Claire stared at the paper for several long moments, no longer seeing the words on the page, her fingers flexing around it, crinkling the edges. With a frustrated grunt, she shoved it inside of her desk, angry at Peter for reminding her of their inability to be together, angry that the first time he contacted her in weeks was to do something like this. She appreciated the letter, she really did, but did he have to make it so doom and gloom to open it up?
Studying the pressed pink flower in her other hand, she felt her anger start to bloom. Why would he send her a flower while simultaneously telling her they couldn’t be together? It would be like greeting her with a passionate kiss and then introducing her to his
girlfriend. Sometimes Peter Petrelli made no sense whatsoever.
She had thought that knowing that Peter was alive would give her peace, would allow her to sleep without nightmares and start to feel something other than grief and pain, but all it had really done was fill her with more restlessness. Peter was alive and was trying to find Sylar and she knew that he was going to team up with Dr. Suresh and Matt Parkman; it angered her to no end that he was going to follow the leads that she gave him to accomplish it while she sat in AP bio trying not to get on Casey’s bad side or to interpret whether or not West was going to try to make a move on her.
For some reason she just couldn’t summon up the motivation to care about high school after having played a part in saving the world.
With a sigh, she flopped back onto the bed that she had shared with Peter two weeks before and closed her eyes, wishing that, when she opened them, her whole world had changed.
* * *
Peter had been back in New York for nearly a month before he got in touch with Matt Parkman. Matt, who was now sharing an apartment with Mohinder Suresh and little Molly Walker, told him to come over on a Tuesday afternoon after Matt got off of work and Molly was done with school. It wasn’t until he crossed the threshold that Peter realized that he had been killed in this very apartment with a shard of glass to the back of his head, a death that would have been permanent if Claire hadn’t known to remove the glass in order to trigger his regeneration.
Matt greeted him with a hearty handshake that turned into a back thumping hug that caught Peter off-guard. “It’s good to see you, man.”
“Good to be seen.”
“We really thought that you were gone for good.” Taking a seat at the kitchen table, he added, “Last thing we need is to lose more of us, you know?”
“Shouldn’t be so much of a problem with Sylar out of commission.”
“From what you said on the phone, he isn’t entirely gone though, right?” Lowering his voice so that the little girl in the next room couldn’t hear, he explained, “Molly’s parents were killed by him, so I’d really appreciate it if…details weren’t stated, you know? If you think them, I can pick them up.”
The corner of Peter’s mouth perked up in a smile. “You, too.”
Matt blinked in surprise before remembering, “You can use my power; I almost forgot.”
“Where’s Mohinder?”
“He’s…” Closing his mouth, Matt mentally informed him He’s been working for the Company, doing research on this virus that almost killed Molly in November. Apparently, it strikes people like us.
What causes it?
Being…special, I guess. I don’t know. I barely made it out of high school; when Mohinder talks, I just nod and pretend like I have a freaking clue what he’s saying. Anyway, I think he said he was headed to Port au Prince.
Haiti? Do you think-
That it’s our favorite memory stealer? I’d put money on it.
How did Mohinder get wrapped up with these guys?
Bennet, how else? We’re trying to take down the Company.
This is Bennet’s idea?
It’s not like he needed any encouragement. He’s been on a mission ever since Sylar to
bring them down.
And you?
I’ve got a little girl who wakes up screaming every night about the boogeyman coming to get her, someone who scares her more than Sylar ever did. Let Mohinder go after a bunch of monsters in lab coats; I’m more worried about Molly.
I was with the Company for awhile. They’re not people you want to mess with. The girl that wanted…information from me about Kirby Plaza was no monster in a lab coat. They have people like us working for them.
More than just the Haitian?
Peter held out his hand, summoning a ball of electricity to crackle blue before Matt’s eyes. Closing his eyes, reabsorbing the current, he thought I picked that up from Elle, one of their operatives. I think there’s a lot more to them than we know.
Bennet never mentioned that.
He’s not exactly forthcoming with details about anything though.
So…what’s our plan of action?
Plan? What, am I supposed to be in charge?
Matt laughed aloud before pointing out Pete, none of this would have ever happened if you hadn’t gotten the ball rolling. Now, we need to find Sylar, right? And we’re going to need to figure out who killed Kaito Nakamura-
Kaito Nakamura’s dead?
Someone pushed him off of a roof about two weeks ago; we pulled your mom in for questioning. She didn’t say anything?
Peter shook his head. Mom’s not exactly open with information.
Did you know him?
He came to a few of my dad’s parties before he died; we were introduced. I didn’t really know anything about him.
Not even that he was Hiro Nakamura’s father?
Peter’s eyes bulged. What?!
Small world, huh?
Okay, so we need to find out who would kill him too. Anything else?
I think we need to get as many of us together as we can, sort of a strength in numbers approach.
The numbers are a little small though. You, me, Hiro, and Nathan, who would rather die than use his powers voluntarily…we’re not exactly an army.
Hiro’s missing. He hasn’t been seen since Kirby Plaza.
Dead?
Missing.
What about that woman, the blonde one with the kid who had the strength? What do we know about her?
Name’s Niki Sanders, lives in Las Vegas, has a son named Micah who’s good with machines. He and Molly keep in touch. But aren’t you forgetting someone? When Peter said nothing, he asked, What about Claire?
Claire’s out. Bennet would never let her come here, and she doesn’t need to be in this.
Matt studied him closely for a moment before beginning, Look, man, I know that you want to keep your girl out of harm’s way but-
Claire’s not my girlfriend; she’s my niece. And she’s not involved.
Matt wasn’t sure what it was about Peter Petrelli that made him more intimidating now than he had ever been prior to his death, but for some reason, the telepath had no desire to argue this point with him.
“Well, you’re the man who knows the most. Tell me where you want me and I’m in.”
“In what?” Molly queried as she entered the kitchen, her big, doe eyes focused suspiciously on Peter.
“Hey, I thought you were watching that Hannah Montana thing.”
Shooting a scathing look at her foster father, she said, “I wanted a glass of water. What are you in?”
“Well, Moll, this is a friend of mine-“
“Peter Petrelli, Kirby Plaza, Los Angeles, Cork County, Ireland, Costa Verde, California,” she ticked off, flipping her ponytail over her shoulders. When both men looked at her in surprise, she simply shrugged.
“Right,” Matt finally confirmed, “and Peter and I are just talking about…grown up things.”
“Grown up things,” Molly repeated, her face clearly communicating what she thought about that description.
“It’s nice to meet you, Molly,” Peter ventured.
She reached forward, touching the necklace he had worn since the day he came out of the shipping crate. Peter heard Matt identify it as the “godsend” symbol, that it was what some man named Ando had told him, but Peter knew that it had been the symbol of Arthur Petrelli’s law firm. He wasn’t sure why he continued to wear it, but he did know that it felt wrong to take it off just yet.
“This is in my nightmares,” she softly informed them. “The bad people use this.”
“Who are the bad people?” Matt inquired.
Swallowing heavily, she drew her hand back and turned towards the refrigerator. She began to dig for a bottle of water as if she hadn’t heard what he had asked. It took a full five, unbearable moments before she whispered, “The nightmare man called them the Board.”
With that, Molly disappeared into the living room to become lost in the secret life of Miley Cyrus, leaving Peter and Matt confused at the kitchen table.
* * *
Dear Claire,
I met Molly Walker today. She’s…she’s a complicated little girl. It’s rare that I get unnerved by people like us anymore, but she definitely accomplished that. She actually listed every place I’ve been since Kirby Plaza and she recognized the symbol on my necklace. Granted, she didn’t know that it was once the symbol of Petrelli and Deveaux, Esquire. Did I ever tell you that my dad and Charles were business partners? Dad was a corporate attorney who occasionally dabbled in criminal law, but Charles handled contracts and estates. I had met him only a few times before I became his hospice nurse; in retrospect, it seems very strange that they were partners for nearly three decades and I can count on one hand how many times I met him.
I got my job back with the hospice agency I had worked at before this all started. I wish I didn’t have to, but I have a mountain of bills to pay and too much pride to continue to live off of my trust fund. I know, I know, you’re crying for me. Poor, little, rich boy, right? Nathan always loved having the Petrelli fortune at his disposal, but I’ve never cared for money much. Of course, that might also stem from the fact that whenever I wanted it (ie: nursing school), I was denied it.
I’m sorry I missed your call the other night. Some friends of mine wanted to take me out for a drink, which turned into an entire night of drinking and, in my friend Brian’s case, bad karaoke. How are your friends? How’s West?
Thinking of you,
Peter
* * *
She hated the impersonal notes that he sent her. They were slowly forming a pile in her desk drawer, and each one filled her with more and more pain. Her letters to him had been heartfelt, opening herself up about things she had never had the guts to speak about out loud; maybe she hadn’t censored herself because she hadn’t thought anyone would leave them, but that didn’t excuse this. He wrote about daily, mundane crap; he hardly ever acknowledged his feelings, and he asked her about West. West! This was not One Tree Hill! She didn’t need him to be the understanding pseudo-ex that wished her well and wanted to be her best friend. She wanted him to be the guy who was in love with her and wrote her long, passionate letters declaring such.
But this wasn’t TV and Peter wasn’t that man. Peter couldn’t be that man.
“Something good?” her father asked as he took a seat beside her on the couch, gesturing to the letter she still held in her hands.
Slipping it back inside of the envelope that she had nearly shredded to get to it, Claire shrugged. “It’s just a letter from Peter.”
Claire saw the slight tensing of his jaw that he tried to hide with another question. “How is he?”
“He got his old job back working as a nurse and he went out with his friends for a welcome back thing the other night.”
He smiled. “Well, that’s good. I think it’s important for Peter to get his life back on track, start living normally again. It’s important to not let what happened consume you.”
Claire wanly smiled. “The horse is dead, Dad; do you still have the beat it?”
“I just don’t want you to get wrapped up in the…saving the world thing. Sylar is gone, Claire; you’re safe. As long as the Company doesn’t know where we are, you can be as normal as you want to be.” Reaching over to the end table, he came back with a handful of brochures, which he handed to her.
“College?”
“You’re a junior; I figure it’s about time we checked some of them out.”
Flipping through the brightly colored pages of happy-go-lucky undergrads, Claire confessed, “I didn’t really think that it would be an option.”
“You deserve this. I think you’ll like some of those schools.”
“UCLA, USC, Stanford, Berkeley, San Diego State…All California schools?”
“You don’t have to stay in California, but I figured that you’d want to be close to us. The only limitation I’m setting down is that you can’t go back to Texas; there’s too much of a chance that you’ll be recognized.”
“So then the other forty-nine states are completely up for grabs?”
“Hell, take Canada and Puerto Rico too.”
Claire legitimately grinned this time, leaning over to give him a hug. “I love you.”
“I love you, too, Claire-Bear. You know, your spring break’s coming up in a few weeks. Why don’t you make a list of schools you want to see and we’ll go visit?”
“How are we going to afford that?”
“Let me worry about that. You just start figuring out what you want for your future.”
Claire nodded, taking the brochures and heading upstairs, telling her father that she was going to call West to see what he thought. She saw how happy that made him, how even the slightest potential that she was focusing on West and not Peter made her father want to dance with glee. That didn’t matter though; all that mattered to her was finding out every ounce of information she could about every college in New York City.
* * *
Elle hated having to wait. She was not a patient woman and her impatience often lead to…unsavory results. However, despite this, she sat quietly in the parlor of the Petrelli family brownstone, her short legs crossed at the ankle, her stylish and obscenely high heels gleaming in the light. She was playing the part of the good professional today, complete with designer outfit and tailored jacket; Angela had insisted upon it in case the police came by again to question about Kaito’s murder. Should the police ask who Elle was, she was to explain that she was a member of the Junior League and that Mrs. Petrelli was helping her arrange her wedding. The lie was so ridiculous that Elle almost laughed when the woman had suggested it, but Elle valued her life, so she kept quiet.
To be entirely honest, she was getting sick of Angela Petrelli. Unlike Arthur, who knew her value, Angela viewed her as little more than a dog: fetch this, get that, lie down and play dead. Elle had never let anyone bring her to heel, and she was damn sure not going to let Angela Petrelli be the first. Board member or not, Elle was growing intensely tired of this game, and if Bob didn’t reassign her soon, she was going to turn the man with the Midas touch into a lightning rod.
“You haven’t been very forthcoming with details,” Angela said by way of greeting, perching delicately on her antique chaise.
“There aren’t that many to give. Other than a meeting with Matt Parkman, your boy’s been an average Joe. The most exciting thing he’s done thus far has been carrying a drunk friend up the stairs of his apartment; it doesn’t exactly make for scintillating conversation.”
“Peter is not going to forget what happened with Sylar.”
“Yeah, a boy never does forget the first time he detonates and nearly destroys a major metropolitan area,” Elle sighed with mock whimsy.
“I suggest you mind your tongue or I will remove it from your mouth.”
She didn’t raise her voice or make a move towards Elle, but the younger woman still swallowed and obediently apologized while fury burned within her.
“What about the girl?”
“Claire Bennet-Butler-Whatever is Little Miss Apple Pie. She’s cheering at her school, made the honor roll last quarter, and, other than a few letters, she and Peter have had minimal contact.” Carefully measuring her tone, she declared, “In my professional opinion, I don’t believe that Claire poses any sort of threat towards Peter or our Company’s goal.”
Angela smiled indulgently. “And that, my dear, is why you will never be the one in charge.”
Elle bristled, her back stiff and fists clenched. “What does that mean?”
“It means that for all of your…investigative skills, you clearly have no idea who it is you’re dealing with. My son was willing to die for that girl, and she traveled hundreds of miles with a stranger just to get to him. The first person that he saw when he regained his memory was Claire. Do you honestly think that they’ll just exchange letters and call it a day? No, something is brewing, and you need to find out what.”
“How would you suggest I do that, Mrs. Petrelli?”
“I suggest that you do your job, Ms. Raines. If you can’t, we’ll find someone who can.”
Biting her lip so hard that it was about to bleed, Elle nodded. She knew better than to argue with Angela Petrelli; that was how operatives got killed.
* * *
Dear Claire,
I miss you so much that I can’t breathe. I dream about you every night. I can’t stand the idea of that West guy touching you, seeing parts of you that only I’ve seen, being with you in ways I never can. I wish that I had said yes to running away with you when you had suggested it in Costa Verde. I can’t take much more of being away from you.
I don’t have much to write this time. Life has been much more of the same; Matt and I haven’t made any real progress with Kaito’s murder or in locating Sylar. I won’t bore you with the details. Do you have plans for Spring Break?
Peter
* * *
Peter had agreed to meet with Matt, Mohinder, and Nathan at a bar on the Lower East Side that reminded him of the pub in Cork. Matt was sensitive about exposing Molly to any of what they were doing, and Nathan was the one who suggested the bar that few had heard of. Peter was a bit concerned about his alcoholic brother’s newfound talent of finding bars hidden from the world, but he let it go. Nathan wouldn’t discuss it with him and Peter didn’t want to push.
Peter and Nathan got there first and Nathan managed to get them one of the few booths available. After ordering their drinks - Nathan conspicuously ordering a club soda rather than his usual Scotch - Peter’s phone began to ring. He fished it out of his pocket and looked at the display window, which told him that Claire was calling. With a sigh, he hit “ignore” and tucked it back into his jacket.
“Old girlfriend?” Nathan drawled, picking up one of the pretzels in the bowl at the table’s center.
“Claire.”
Nathan nodded. “How is she?”
“You haven’t spoken to her?”
“I wouldn’t exactly call myself father of the year. Besides, Bennet’s her father; I’m just the guy that got her real mom pregnant.”
The edge of bitterness to the words surprised Peter. Claire was usually the great unspoken between them for a variety of reasons, Peter’s being that he had nearly taken her virginity. Even before Kirby Plaza during the brief introduction period that Peter had to her as his niece, Nathan had pointedly refused to speak about his daughter. Peter wasn’t sure how Nathan truly felt about the teenager and it always surprised him when Nathan did talk about her.
“Well…she’s fine, I guess. She’s getting on with her life.”
“That’s the best thing for her.”
“I know.”
After a pregnant pause, Nathan ventured, “You know…if you want…you could invite her to
visit. I’d keep Ma out of the way so you two could…spend time together. You could take her to do all those tourist things, maybe take her to a show or something.”
Peter smiled wanly. “I appreciate the offer, Nate, but I think it’s better if Claire…It’s just better this way.”
“Come on, Pete. I know you want to keep her safe, but you don’t know what she went through when you were gone. She used to call me a couple times a week just to hear if I got news. Don’t let Bennet intimidate you; we have as much right to her as he does.”
“No one has a right to her! Claire needs to decide what it is she wants to do, and
I’m not going to invite her here to hang out when I don’t want her involved in this. You shouldn’t either.”
“I just want you both to be happy. When you’re around each other, you are.”
“You don’t understand,” Peter weakly argued.
An unsettling knowledge in his eyes, Nathan replied, “I understand better than you think.”
Before Peter could reply, someone new sat down at the booth. Expecting Matt or Mohinder, Peter turned to greet them but was struck dumb when he saw that it was Elle in all of her psychotic, pastel-colored glory.
“Now, should I order a cosmo or a margarita? Better question: do you think that the bartender knows how to make either?”
“Get out of here!” Peter gritted out.
“Peter, is that any way to greet an old friend?” Extending her potentially deadly hand towards Nathan, she said, “Elle Raines. Your family and I go way back. In fact, we spent some time together…in Vegas.”
Peter’s hand flew, quickly catching Nathan’s wrist, stopping the touch. “What do you want, Elle? I told you everything I know.”
Withdrawing her hand, she assured him, “I know. If you hadn’t, I would’ve just snuck up on you after this little rendezvous and zapped you again.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Why, to save the world! This is the right meeting, isn’t it? I mean, my face was red when I followed the guys in capes earlier and ended up at a screening of Superman.”
“You work for the Company. Their interests aren’t in saving the world.”
“You know, sometimes, the amount of ignorance that comes from you is absolutely astounding.” She glanced over her shoulder towards the door that Matt and Mohinder had just entered through. When Mohinder saw her, he did a double-take and she waved her perfectly manicured fingers in greeting.
“Elle,” Mohinder said in greeting, eyeing her warily.
“You know her?”
The scientist nodded, sliding into the booth as far away from the blonde as possible, Matt following suit. “Elle works for the Company.”
“Good old Dr. Suresh inoculated me just yesterday against the Shanti virus. In fact, it’s why I’m here.”
“What virus?” Nathan inquired.
“There’s been a virus recently occurring in people with abilities,” Mohinder briefly explained. “I’ve been working on the cure. Elle is part of our experiment with an inoculation.”
“Is that safe?”
“Aw, Pete, I didn’t know you cared.”
Ignoring Elle, Mohinder admitted, “There are associated risks but none as severe as actually contracting it. Given the unknown methods of contraction, it’s all just guess work. Bob insisted that Elle be the first to be inoculated.”
“Why is she here?” Matt asked.
With a roll of her eyes, Elle sighed, “Boys, boys…you don’t have to get all bent out of shape. I don’t mean any harm this time. Like I said, I’m here to help save the world.”
“You’ll forgive us if we’re a little skeptical.”
“You can be whatever you want, but you’re going to need my help if you want to take down the board.”
“The board?” Nathan echoed.
Reaching into her jacket pocket, she removed a folded photograph and slid it across the table. “I give you the board to the company. I’m sure you’re familiar with some of those faces.”
“This is the picture that was on Kaito Nakamura, and that’s…that’s my father,” Matt stated.
“Ma and Pop, Charles Deveaux, Linderman, Bob…All of these people used to come to our house for dinner parties.”
“I don’t remember that.”
“You were little; Pop stopped having them when you were about ten.” Looking at the blonde woman, he pushed, “What do they have to do with this?”
Relishing in their now undivided attention, Elle began, “Once upon a time, 12 people with extraordinary abilities found each other; they were from all over the globe and powerful long before they ever realized they could do things that other people couldn’t. When they all got together, they decided that there were probably many more of us out there, so they formed the Company. With the exception of Bob and Mr. Linderman, involvement was periphery at best; unless something required all of them to assemble, they mostly threw money at it and let Bob handle it. The only problem with this group was that they had very different ideas on what was right and wrong; some people, like Mr. Linderman, thought that the ends justified the means while others, like Charles Deveaux, thought that there were much more…humane ways of reaching a goal. It lead to a bit of a split.”
“What does that have to do with-“
“There are some, like your dear mother, who think that the regular people are the ones that are in the way of our domination; she thinks that if there are more of us, we won’t have to hide. I like having to hide; I like having a power and I like other people not being able to do what I do. It’s why she was okay with Peter here detonating and why she worked damn hard to keep little Claire Bennet as far away from all of you as possible.”
“What does Claire have to do with this?” Nathan asked.
“Every non-powered employee of the Company is assigned someone who has a power. Noah Bennet’s partner was Claude Raines, who just happens to be my father.”
“Claude?” Peter gasped.
“What, you’re shocked? People are ambiguous in their allegiances, Peter; my father’s no more a self-sacrificing saint who taught you to master your powers than he is a villain who did the Company’s dirty work.” Moving on, she continued, “Noah Bennet got a call one day to meet with Thompson, whom is no longer with us, and Kaito Nakamura to take possession of an infant who had been in a fire with Meredith Gordon, another one of our employees.”
“Meredith worked for you?”
“She was Bob’s partner. Her job was to keep an eye on you while you were training in Texas, see if your powers manifested. When she became pregnant, your mother stepped in. The plan always was for Claire to go to the Company the same way that I did; they like to get us young so that we’re more…malleable to their intentions. What they didn’t count on was Noah actually loving the girl and using the Haitian to keep her powers hidden. You see, Claire could be downright deadly to their agenda.”
“Which is?”
“You think the Shanti virus is new? They knew it existed thirty years ago when it killed your sister, when it killed dozens of others. The Company plays god with us; they decide which powers are ‘safe’ for us to have and which ones are deadly. It’s why they were going to kill Ted Sprague and why they’re still looking for Sylar. And, quite frankly, they would’ve been more than happy if you hadn’t risen from the dead.”
“But Peter’s power isn’t inherently dangerous,” Mohinder argued.
“Are you kidding? What’s more dangerous to a bunch of power hungry assholes than a guy who can have every power ever created? If they could kill him, they would, but they can’t, so he gets careful monitoring by yours truly.”
“You spy on me?”
Elle smiled. “You and your little niece too. See, Claire is the Holy-fucking-Grail of abilities; her blood, tissue, bone, anything regenerates and cures anything. You could cure every disease in the world if you could work some scientific magic, and you could completely eliminate Shanti. Right now, they infect who they want to infect. You think it’s coincidence that Molly Walker got it? What better way to tempt the noble scientist than with the sweet, little girl that was orphaned and saved by the brave police officer? And the Haitian? What better way to completely blind Bennet than to take away his right hand man?”
“You knew-“
“What, that the Haitian’s still in his pocket? Those two were always thick as thieves and Bob knew it too.”
“That still doesn’t explain why you’re here.”
“I have very little conscience or compunction about killing people, but what they want to do with this virus, systematically killing those of us that don’t fit into their little utopian vision, wiping out whole blocks of regular people…Even I have a limit, Senator.”
“You still didn’t explain what that has to do with Claire,” Peter reminded her.
“I have explicit orders that should the young Miss Butler venture to the city, try to get involved in your little project, that I’m to infect her with the virus and then, just to be sure, zap a very specific portion of her brain, the part that fuels the regeneration. I don’t think you appreciate how special your girl really is. All of our powers, they’re pretty generic in the grand scheme of things, with the exception of your quicker, picker-upper thing. But Claire’s? There are only four recorded cases of regeneration, and two of those killed themselves after they realized that they were never going to die. Apparently immortality’s a real bitch.”
“Immortality?” all of the men echoed in a way that would’ve been comical if the topic hadn’t
been so severe.
“My involvement here is going to have to be…under the radar. I suggest you set up shop somewhere and then you give me a call. When you do, I’m going to introduce you to a friend of mine. I think you’ll find him quite…interesting.” She gracefully rose to her feet - no small accomplishment given the ridiculously high heels she was wearing - and declared, “I’ll be in touch.”
As she disappeared out of the bar, Matt gasped, “What the hell just happened?!”
“I think it’s time to save the world again.”
* * *
Claire was half asleep when her phone started to ring. Rolling over to grab it off of her night stand, she felt a flicker of excitement jump through her when she saw that it was Peter.
“Hey!” she greeted, unable to keep the smile off of her face.
“Hey.”
“What’s up? I didn’t think I’d hear from you tonight.”
“Yeah, I, um, I got your message.”
“You did? So what do you think? I mean, I know it’s kind of short notice, but my dad’s actually kind of okay with me checking out schools in New York. I figured while I’m there, we could-“
“No.”
“No?” she echoed in confusion. “No, it’s not the right time?”
“No, no, I think that…I don’t think New York is the right place for you to come to school.”
Claire tried to laugh. “Okay, my mom already gave me the whole ‘small town girl, big city’ lecture, and really, does it matter? I mean, we’d get to see each other. Who knows when we’ll get to again?”
“Claire-“
“My break’s in, like, a week, and I have ten days off of school so we can do-“
“Claire, I don’t want you to come.”
Claire felt as if the air had been sucked out of her lungs. “What?”
“I don’t want you to come to New York.”
“But I thought…You said when you left…”
“I said a lot of things.”
She felt the tears starting but she refused to shed them; after all, she had to be misunderstanding something. “Peter, I’m really lost. I feel like you’re saying-“
“Look, Claire, I need to get my life back on track.”
“I don’t understand. What about Sylar? What about doing something?”
“Sylar’s gone and it’s time to stop acting like kids. It’s better this way.”
“Better for whom? Peter, you’re not making sense. What’s going on? Look, I just want to see you-“
“I don’t want to see you, Claire!” Exhaling in irritation, he snapped, “You’re a sweet kid, but I can’t babysit you for the rest of your life. You need to get on with your life and let me get on with mine.”
Claire had survived head trauma, falls, a gun shot wound, fire, and a nuclear explosion, but she had never experienced a pain quite like the one that was currently ripping through her chest. “But…but I love you,” she whimpered pitifully, laying herself on the line, knowing that the Peter that she loved wouldn’t let her dangle there.
Instead, all that the stranger on the other end said in reply was, “Then you need to grow up.”
And then all that was left for Claire to hear was a dial tone and the sound of her own despaired sobbing.
* * *
Peter cried for over an hour for the pain that he knew he had caused the woman that he loved, but he knew that this was for the better.
If he wanted to keep Claire safe from the virus, she needed to hate him so much that she never wanted to see him again. And if it kept Claire safe, Peter would take the heartache; he had survived worse.
* * *
Dearest Claire,
I am so sorry. I hope one day you’ll forgive me.
I love you.
Peter
PART TWO
Author: lit_chick08
Rating: NC-17 overall
Pairing: Paire, Claire/West, Peter/Elle, Claire/Adam Monroe
Word Count: 6558
Spoilers: Everything shown thus far, including Season 2. I’m picking and choosing what I like, so you could be potentially spoiled if you haven’t seen the latest episodes
Summary: When everything starts to spiral out of control, Peter realizes that he needs Claire to give up the normal life he forced on her to help save the world once again. The only problem? She isn’t sure she wants to anymore
A/N: This is a sequel to “Letters to My Uncle,” which can be found HERE. You might be confused if you try to read this one without reading the first one.
A/N2: I know that I promised I would have the next part of “Ring of Fire” out soon, but it’s just not cooperating right now. Half of the chapter is written and it’s stalled. I’m hoping getting this out will help it.
The first letter came two weeks after Peter had returned to New York with Nathan. It had been waiting for her when she came home from school, innocuously sitting between the electric bill and a sale paper. She almost didn’t recognize the handwriting and then, when she did, she felt a stab of excitement, anxiety, and fear shoot through her. Every instinct in her body told her to rip open the envelope and read what he wrote to her, but she knew that she couldn’t do it while West was here, so she slipped into her pocket.
It felt like an eternity until she could finally open it. Her mother had invited West for dinner, and there was no way for her to get away. She had considered sneaking into the bathroom, but if the letter broke her heart, she knew that she’d start to cry and her cover would be blown. All through dinner she felt like an addict in withdrawal, counting the seconds until she could get her next fix. When it came time for West to leave, she had all but shoved him out the front door with the promise to call him later before lying to her parents about a report she needed to write in order to gain some privacy.
Her hands shook as she opened the envelope addressed to Claire Butler of Costa Verde, California, afraid of what they’d find, afraid of what they wouldn’t.
As Claire slipped the piece of folded loose-leaf out, something fell into her lap. Carefully, she picked it up and realized exactly what it was: a pink rose, dried and pressed, a gift for her.
Touched, she finally began to read what he had written.
Dear Claire,
I never knew how hard it was to start completely over until I came back here. Nathan thought that I’d be like before, that life would return to normal, but of course it hasn’t. My apartment is still here, though cleaned in an obsessive fit by my mother, and my friends (which I do have, though you’ve never met them) are still here, but I feel like I’m not here anymore. It’s like you thought back in Costa Verde: I am not the same Peter that I was before Sylar.
My mother cried when she saw me, great, heaving sobs, and I felt so bad for her, Claire. I know that you think that she’s a monster, but she just sounded like any other mother who had discovered her child wasn’t really dead. I’m sorry that I can’t hate her with you; I just don’t have it in me.
Heidi brought the boys to see me, much to Nathan’s irritation. They’ve been living in DC with Heidi’s family since Nathan started drinking, and he hadn’t seen them in three months. I know that you’ve never met them, but you’d really like Simon and Monty; they’re good kids. It felt so surreal to have them jumping on me and calling me Uncle Peter again.
Simon and Monty are my nephews and you are my niece; these are things that I know intellectually, but in my heart, Simon and Monty are my nephews and you…well, you’re you.
I’ve thought about that night so many times, Claire, and every time I do, I pick up the phone to call you, but I can never get the words to come out right. So I guess what I want to say to you is this: I love you, I miss you, I wish I was in California or you were in New York. Those are the selfish thoughts that I have, the ones that I keep refusing to call and tell you about.
I can’t be selfish here. I hope that you’re doing well and that you’re moving on. It’s unhealthy for both of us if you aren’t.
All of my love,
Peter
Claire stared at the paper for several long moments, no longer seeing the words on the page, her fingers flexing around it, crinkling the edges. With a frustrated grunt, she shoved it inside of her desk, angry at Peter for reminding her of their inability to be together, angry that the first time he contacted her in weeks was to do something like this. She appreciated the letter, she really did, but did he have to make it so doom and gloom to open it up?
Studying the pressed pink flower in her other hand, she felt her anger start to bloom. Why would he send her a flower while simultaneously telling her they couldn’t be together? It would be like greeting her with a passionate kiss and then introducing her to his
girlfriend. Sometimes Peter Petrelli made no sense whatsoever.
She had thought that knowing that Peter was alive would give her peace, would allow her to sleep without nightmares and start to feel something other than grief and pain, but all it had really done was fill her with more restlessness. Peter was alive and was trying to find Sylar and she knew that he was going to team up with Dr. Suresh and Matt Parkman; it angered her to no end that he was going to follow the leads that she gave him to accomplish it while she sat in AP bio trying not to get on Casey’s bad side or to interpret whether or not West was going to try to make a move on her.
For some reason she just couldn’t summon up the motivation to care about high school after having played a part in saving the world.
With a sigh, she flopped back onto the bed that she had shared with Peter two weeks before and closed her eyes, wishing that, when she opened them, her whole world had changed.
* * *
Peter had been back in New York for nearly a month before he got in touch with Matt Parkman. Matt, who was now sharing an apartment with Mohinder Suresh and little Molly Walker, told him to come over on a Tuesday afternoon after Matt got off of work and Molly was done with school. It wasn’t until he crossed the threshold that Peter realized that he had been killed in this very apartment with a shard of glass to the back of his head, a death that would have been permanent if Claire hadn’t known to remove the glass in order to trigger his regeneration.
Matt greeted him with a hearty handshake that turned into a back thumping hug that caught Peter off-guard. “It’s good to see you, man.”
“Good to be seen.”
“We really thought that you were gone for good.” Taking a seat at the kitchen table, he added, “Last thing we need is to lose more of us, you know?”
“Shouldn’t be so much of a problem with Sylar out of commission.”
“From what you said on the phone, he isn’t entirely gone though, right?” Lowering his voice so that the little girl in the next room couldn’t hear, he explained, “Molly’s parents were killed by him, so I’d really appreciate it if…details weren’t stated, you know? If you think them, I can pick them up.”
The corner of Peter’s mouth perked up in a smile. “You, too.”
Matt blinked in surprise before remembering, “You can use my power; I almost forgot.”
“Where’s Mohinder?”
“He’s…” Closing his mouth, Matt mentally informed him He’s been working for the Company, doing research on this virus that almost killed Molly in November. Apparently, it strikes people like us.
What causes it?
Being…special, I guess. I don’t know. I barely made it out of high school; when Mohinder talks, I just nod and pretend like I have a freaking clue what he’s saying. Anyway, I think he said he was headed to Port au Prince.
Haiti? Do you think-
That it’s our favorite memory stealer? I’d put money on it.
How did Mohinder get wrapped up with these guys?
Bennet, how else? We’re trying to take down the Company.
This is Bennet’s idea?
It’s not like he needed any encouragement. He’s been on a mission ever since Sylar to
bring them down.
And you?
I’ve got a little girl who wakes up screaming every night about the boogeyman coming to get her, someone who scares her more than Sylar ever did. Let Mohinder go after a bunch of monsters in lab coats; I’m more worried about Molly.
I was with the Company for awhile. They’re not people you want to mess with. The girl that wanted…information from me about Kirby Plaza was no monster in a lab coat. They have people like us working for them.
More than just the Haitian?
Peter held out his hand, summoning a ball of electricity to crackle blue before Matt’s eyes. Closing his eyes, reabsorbing the current, he thought I picked that up from Elle, one of their operatives. I think there’s a lot more to them than we know.
Bennet never mentioned that.
He’s not exactly forthcoming with details about anything though.
So…what’s our plan of action?
Plan? What, am I supposed to be in charge?
Matt laughed aloud before pointing out Pete, none of this would have ever happened if you hadn’t gotten the ball rolling. Now, we need to find Sylar, right? And we’re going to need to figure out who killed Kaito Nakamura-
Kaito Nakamura’s dead?
Someone pushed him off of a roof about two weeks ago; we pulled your mom in for questioning. She didn’t say anything?
Peter shook his head. Mom’s not exactly open with information.
Did you know him?
He came to a few of my dad’s parties before he died; we were introduced. I didn’t really know anything about him.
Not even that he was Hiro Nakamura’s father?
Peter’s eyes bulged. What?!
Small world, huh?
Okay, so we need to find out who would kill him too. Anything else?
I think we need to get as many of us together as we can, sort of a strength in numbers approach.
The numbers are a little small though. You, me, Hiro, and Nathan, who would rather die than use his powers voluntarily…we’re not exactly an army.
Hiro’s missing. He hasn’t been seen since Kirby Plaza.
Dead?
Missing.
What about that woman, the blonde one with the kid who had the strength? What do we know about her?
Name’s Niki Sanders, lives in Las Vegas, has a son named Micah who’s good with machines. He and Molly keep in touch. But aren’t you forgetting someone? When Peter said nothing, he asked, What about Claire?
Claire’s out. Bennet would never let her come here, and she doesn’t need to be in this.
Matt studied him closely for a moment before beginning, Look, man, I know that you want to keep your girl out of harm’s way but-
Claire’s not my girlfriend; she’s my niece. And she’s not involved.
Matt wasn’t sure what it was about Peter Petrelli that made him more intimidating now than he had ever been prior to his death, but for some reason, the telepath had no desire to argue this point with him.
“Well, you’re the man who knows the most. Tell me where you want me and I’m in.”
“In what?” Molly queried as she entered the kitchen, her big, doe eyes focused suspiciously on Peter.
“Hey, I thought you were watching that Hannah Montana thing.”
Shooting a scathing look at her foster father, she said, “I wanted a glass of water. What are you in?”
“Well, Moll, this is a friend of mine-“
“Peter Petrelli, Kirby Plaza, Los Angeles, Cork County, Ireland, Costa Verde, California,” she ticked off, flipping her ponytail over her shoulders. When both men looked at her in surprise, she simply shrugged.
“Right,” Matt finally confirmed, “and Peter and I are just talking about…grown up things.”
“Grown up things,” Molly repeated, her face clearly communicating what she thought about that description.
“It’s nice to meet you, Molly,” Peter ventured.
She reached forward, touching the necklace he had worn since the day he came out of the shipping crate. Peter heard Matt identify it as the “godsend” symbol, that it was what some man named Ando had told him, but Peter knew that it had been the symbol of Arthur Petrelli’s law firm. He wasn’t sure why he continued to wear it, but he did know that it felt wrong to take it off just yet.
“This is in my nightmares,” she softly informed them. “The bad people use this.”
“Who are the bad people?” Matt inquired.
Swallowing heavily, she drew her hand back and turned towards the refrigerator. She began to dig for a bottle of water as if she hadn’t heard what he had asked. It took a full five, unbearable moments before she whispered, “The nightmare man called them the Board.”
With that, Molly disappeared into the living room to become lost in the secret life of Miley Cyrus, leaving Peter and Matt confused at the kitchen table.
* * *
Dear Claire,
I met Molly Walker today. She’s…she’s a complicated little girl. It’s rare that I get unnerved by people like us anymore, but she definitely accomplished that. She actually listed every place I’ve been since Kirby Plaza and she recognized the symbol on my necklace. Granted, she didn’t know that it was once the symbol of Petrelli and Deveaux, Esquire. Did I ever tell you that my dad and Charles were business partners? Dad was a corporate attorney who occasionally dabbled in criminal law, but Charles handled contracts and estates. I had met him only a few times before I became his hospice nurse; in retrospect, it seems very strange that they were partners for nearly three decades and I can count on one hand how many times I met him.
I got my job back with the hospice agency I had worked at before this all started. I wish I didn’t have to, but I have a mountain of bills to pay and too much pride to continue to live off of my trust fund. I know, I know, you’re crying for me. Poor, little, rich boy, right? Nathan always loved having the Petrelli fortune at his disposal, but I’ve never cared for money much. Of course, that might also stem from the fact that whenever I wanted it (ie: nursing school), I was denied it.
I’m sorry I missed your call the other night. Some friends of mine wanted to take me out for a drink, which turned into an entire night of drinking and, in my friend Brian’s case, bad karaoke. How are your friends? How’s West?
Thinking of you,
Peter
* * *
She hated the impersonal notes that he sent her. They were slowly forming a pile in her desk drawer, and each one filled her with more and more pain. Her letters to him had been heartfelt, opening herself up about things she had never had the guts to speak about out loud; maybe she hadn’t censored herself because she hadn’t thought anyone would leave them, but that didn’t excuse this. He wrote about daily, mundane crap; he hardly ever acknowledged his feelings, and he asked her about West. West! This was not One Tree Hill! She didn’t need him to be the understanding pseudo-ex that wished her well and wanted to be her best friend. She wanted him to be the guy who was in love with her and wrote her long, passionate letters declaring such.
But this wasn’t TV and Peter wasn’t that man. Peter couldn’t be that man.
“Something good?” her father asked as he took a seat beside her on the couch, gesturing to the letter she still held in her hands.
Slipping it back inside of the envelope that she had nearly shredded to get to it, Claire shrugged. “It’s just a letter from Peter.”
Claire saw the slight tensing of his jaw that he tried to hide with another question. “How is he?”
“He got his old job back working as a nurse and he went out with his friends for a welcome back thing the other night.”
He smiled. “Well, that’s good. I think it’s important for Peter to get his life back on track, start living normally again. It’s important to not let what happened consume you.”
Claire wanly smiled. “The horse is dead, Dad; do you still have the beat it?”
“I just don’t want you to get wrapped up in the…saving the world thing. Sylar is gone, Claire; you’re safe. As long as the Company doesn’t know where we are, you can be as normal as you want to be.” Reaching over to the end table, he came back with a handful of brochures, which he handed to her.
“College?”
“You’re a junior; I figure it’s about time we checked some of them out.”
Flipping through the brightly colored pages of happy-go-lucky undergrads, Claire confessed, “I didn’t really think that it would be an option.”
“You deserve this. I think you’ll like some of those schools.”
“UCLA, USC, Stanford, Berkeley, San Diego State…All California schools?”
“You don’t have to stay in California, but I figured that you’d want to be close to us. The only limitation I’m setting down is that you can’t go back to Texas; there’s too much of a chance that you’ll be recognized.”
“So then the other forty-nine states are completely up for grabs?”
“Hell, take Canada and Puerto Rico too.”
Claire legitimately grinned this time, leaning over to give him a hug. “I love you.”
“I love you, too, Claire-Bear. You know, your spring break’s coming up in a few weeks. Why don’t you make a list of schools you want to see and we’ll go visit?”
“How are we going to afford that?”
“Let me worry about that. You just start figuring out what you want for your future.”
Claire nodded, taking the brochures and heading upstairs, telling her father that she was going to call West to see what he thought. She saw how happy that made him, how even the slightest potential that she was focusing on West and not Peter made her father want to dance with glee. That didn’t matter though; all that mattered to her was finding out every ounce of information she could about every college in New York City.
* * *
Elle hated having to wait. She was not a patient woman and her impatience often lead to…unsavory results. However, despite this, she sat quietly in the parlor of the Petrelli family brownstone, her short legs crossed at the ankle, her stylish and obscenely high heels gleaming in the light. She was playing the part of the good professional today, complete with designer outfit and tailored jacket; Angela had insisted upon it in case the police came by again to question about Kaito’s murder. Should the police ask who Elle was, she was to explain that she was a member of the Junior League and that Mrs. Petrelli was helping her arrange her wedding. The lie was so ridiculous that Elle almost laughed when the woman had suggested it, but Elle valued her life, so she kept quiet.
To be entirely honest, she was getting sick of Angela Petrelli. Unlike Arthur, who knew her value, Angela viewed her as little more than a dog: fetch this, get that, lie down and play dead. Elle had never let anyone bring her to heel, and she was damn sure not going to let Angela Petrelli be the first. Board member or not, Elle was growing intensely tired of this game, and if Bob didn’t reassign her soon, she was going to turn the man with the Midas touch into a lightning rod.
“You haven’t been very forthcoming with details,” Angela said by way of greeting, perching delicately on her antique chaise.
“There aren’t that many to give. Other than a meeting with Matt Parkman, your boy’s been an average Joe. The most exciting thing he’s done thus far has been carrying a drunk friend up the stairs of his apartment; it doesn’t exactly make for scintillating conversation.”
“Peter is not going to forget what happened with Sylar.”
“Yeah, a boy never does forget the first time he detonates and nearly destroys a major metropolitan area,” Elle sighed with mock whimsy.
“I suggest you mind your tongue or I will remove it from your mouth.”
She didn’t raise her voice or make a move towards Elle, but the younger woman still swallowed and obediently apologized while fury burned within her.
“What about the girl?”
“Claire Bennet-Butler-Whatever is Little Miss Apple Pie. She’s cheering at her school, made the honor roll last quarter, and, other than a few letters, she and Peter have had minimal contact.” Carefully measuring her tone, she declared, “In my professional opinion, I don’t believe that Claire poses any sort of threat towards Peter or our Company’s goal.”
Angela smiled indulgently. “And that, my dear, is why you will never be the one in charge.”
Elle bristled, her back stiff and fists clenched. “What does that mean?”
“It means that for all of your…investigative skills, you clearly have no idea who it is you’re dealing with. My son was willing to die for that girl, and she traveled hundreds of miles with a stranger just to get to him. The first person that he saw when he regained his memory was Claire. Do you honestly think that they’ll just exchange letters and call it a day? No, something is brewing, and you need to find out what.”
“How would you suggest I do that, Mrs. Petrelli?”
“I suggest that you do your job, Ms. Raines. If you can’t, we’ll find someone who can.”
Biting her lip so hard that it was about to bleed, Elle nodded. She knew better than to argue with Angela Petrelli; that was how operatives got killed.
* * *
Dear Claire,
I miss you so much that I can’t breathe. I dream about you every night. I can’t stand the idea of that West guy touching you, seeing parts of you that only I’ve seen, being with you in ways I never can. I wish that I had said yes to running away with you when you had suggested it in Costa Verde. I can’t take much more of being away from you.
I don’t have much to write this time. Life has been much more of the same; Matt and I haven’t made any real progress with Kaito’s murder or in locating Sylar. I won’t bore you with the details. Do you have plans for Spring Break?
Peter
* * *
Peter had agreed to meet with Matt, Mohinder, and Nathan at a bar on the Lower East Side that reminded him of the pub in Cork. Matt was sensitive about exposing Molly to any of what they were doing, and Nathan was the one who suggested the bar that few had heard of. Peter was a bit concerned about his alcoholic brother’s newfound talent of finding bars hidden from the world, but he let it go. Nathan wouldn’t discuss it with him and Peter didn’t want to push.
Peter and Nathan got there first and Nathan managed to get them one of the few booths available. After ordering their drinks - Nathan conspicuously ordering a club soda rather than his usual Scotch - Peter’s phone began to ring. He fished it out of his pocket and looked at the display window, which told him that Claire was calling. With a sigh, he hit “ignore” and tucked it back into his jacket.
“Old girlfriend?” Nathan drawled, picking up one of the pretzels in the bowl at the table’s center.
“Claire.”
Nathan nodded. “How is she?”
“You haven’t spoken to her?”
“I wouldn’t exactly call myself father of the year. Besides, Bennet’s her father; I’m just the guy that got her real mom pregnant.”
The edge of bitterness to the words surprised Peter. Claire was usually the great unspoken between them for a variety of reasons, Peter’s being that he had nearly taken her virginity. Even before Kirby Plaza during the brief introduction period that Peter had to her as his niece, Nathan had pointedly refused to speak about his daughter. Peter wasn’t sure how Nathan truly felt about the teenager and it always surprised him when Nathan did talk about her.
“Well…she’s fine, I guess. She’s getting on with her life.”
“That’s the best thing for her.”
“I know.”
After a pregnant pause, Nathan ventured, “You know…if you want…you could invite her to
visit. I’d keep Ma out of the way so you two could…spend time together. You could take her to do all those tourist things, maybe take her to a show or something.”
Peter smiled wanly. “I appreciate the offer, Nate, but I think it’s better if Claire…It’s just better this way.”
“Come on, Pete. I know you want to keep her safe, but you don’t know what she went through when you were gone. She used to call me a couple times a week just to hear if I got news. Don’t let Bennet intimidate you; we have as much right to her as he does.”
“No one has a right to her! Claire needs to decide what it is she wants to do, and
I’m not going to invite her here to hang out when I don’t want her involved in this. You shouldn’t either.”
“I just want you both to be happy. When you’re around each other, you are.”
“You don’t understand,” Peter weakly argued.
An unsettling knowledge in his eyes, Nathan replied, “I understand better than you think.”
Before Peter could reply, someone new sat down at the booth. Expecting Matt or Mohinder, Peter turned to greet them but was struck dumb when he saw that it was Elle in all of her psychotic, pastel-colored glory.
“Now, should I order a cosmo or a margarita? Better question: do you think that the bartender knows how to make either?”
“Get out of here!” Peter gritted out.
“Peter, is that any way to greet an old friend?” Extending her potentially deadly hand towards Nathan, she said, “Elle Raines. Your family and I go way back. In fact, we spent some time together…in Vegas.”
Peter’s hand flew, quickly catching Nathan’s wrist, stopping the touch. “What do you want, Elle? I told you everything I know.”
Withdrawing her hand, she assured him, “I know. If you hadn’t, I would’ve just snuck up on you after this little rendezvous and zapped you again.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Why, to save the world! This is the right meeting, isn’t it? I mean, my face was red when I followed the guys in capes earlier and ended up at a screening of Superman.”
“You work for the Company. Their interests aren’t in saving the world.”
“You know, sometimes, the amount of ignorance that comes from you is absolutely astounding.” She glanced over her shoulder towards the door that Matt and Mohinder had just entered through. When Mohinder saw her, he did a double-take and she waved her perfectly manicured fingers in greeting.
“Elle,” Mohinder said in greeting, eyeing her warily.
“You know her?”
The scientist nodded, sliding into the booth as far away from the blonde as possible, Matt following suit. “Elle works for the Company.”
“Good old Dr. Suresh inoculated me just yesterday against the Shanti virus. In fact, it’s why I’m here.”
“What virus?” Nathan inquired.
“There’s been a virus recently occurring in people with abilities,” Mohinder briefly explained. “I’ve been working on the cure. Elle is part of our experiment with an inoculation.”
“Is that safe?”
“Aw, Pete, I didn’t know you cared.”
Ignoring Elle, Mohinder admitted, “There are associated risks but none as severe as actually contracting it. Given the unknown methods of contraction, it’s all just guess work. Bob insisted that Elle be the first to be inoculated.”
“Why is she here?” Matt asked.
With a roll of her eyes, Elle sighed, “Boys, boys…you don’t have to get all bent out of shape. I don’t mean any harm this time. Like I said, I’m here to help save the world.”
“You’ll forgive us if we’re a little skeptical.”
“You can be whatever you want, but you’re going to need my help if you want to take down the board.”
“The board?” Nathan echoed.
Reaching into her jacket pocket, she removed a folded photograph and slid it across the table. “I give you the board to the company. I’m sure you’re familiar with some of those faces.”
“This is the picture that was on Kaito Nakamura, and that’s…that’s my father,” Matt stated.
“Ma and Pop, Charles Deveaux, Linderman, Bob…All of these people used to come to our house for dinner parties.”
“I don’t remember that.”
“You were little; Pop stopped having them when you were about ten.” Looking at the blonde woman, he pushed, “What do they have to do with this?”
Relishing in their now undivided attention, Elle began, “Once upon a time, 12 people with extraordinary abilities found each other; they were from all over the globe and powerful long before they ever realized they could do things that other people couldn’t. When they all got together, they decided that there were probably many more of us out there, so they formed the Company. With the exception of Bob and Mr. Linderman, involvement was periphery at best; unless something required all of them to assemble, they mostly threw money at it and let Bob handle it. The only problem with this group was that they had very different ideas on what was right and wrong; some people, like Mr. Linderman, thought that the ends justified the means while others, like Charles Deveaux, thought that there were much more…humane ways of reaching a goal. It lead to a bit of a split.”
“What does that have to do with-“
“There are some, like your dear mother, who think that the regular people are the ones that are in the way of our domination; she thinks that if there are more of us, we won’t have to hide. I like having to hide; I like having a power and I like other people not being able to do what I do. It’s why she was okay with Peter here detonating and why she worked damn hard to keep little Claire Bennet as far away from all of you as possible.”
“What does Claire have to do with this?” Nathan asked.
“Every non-powered employee of the Company is assigned someone who has a power. Noah Bennet’s partner was Claude Raines, who just happens to be my father.”
“Claude?” Peter gasped.
“What, you’re shocked? People are ambiguous in their allegiances, Peter; my father’s no more a self-sacrificing saint who taught you to master your powers than he is a villain who did the Company’s dirty work.” Moving on, she continued, “Noah Bennet got a call one day to meet with Thompson, whom is no longer with us, and Kaito Nakamura to take possession of an infant who had been in a fire with Meredith Gordon, another one of our employees.”
“Meredith worked for you?”
“She was Bob’s partner. Her job was to keep an eye on you while you were training in Texas, see if your powers manifested. When she became pregnant, your mother stepped in. The plan always was for Claire to go to the Company the same way that I did; they like to get us young so that we’re more…malleable to their intentions. What they didn’t count on was Noah actually loving the girl and using the Haitian to keep her powers hidden. You see, Claire could be downright deadly to their agenda.”
“Which is?”
“You think the Shanti virus is new? They knew it existed thirty years ago when it killed your sister, when it killed dozens of others. The Company plays god with us; they decide which powers are ‘safe’ for us to have and which ones are deadly. It’s why they were going to kill Ted Sprague and why they’re still looking for Sylar. And, quite frankly, they would’ve been more than happy if you hadn’t risen from the dead.”
“But Peter’s power isn’t inherently dangerous,” Mohinder argued.
“Are you kidding? What’s more dangerous to a bunch of power hungry assholes than a guy who can have every power ever created? If they could kill him, they would, but they can’t, so he gets careful monitoring by yours truly.”
“You spy on me?”
Elle smiled. “You and your little niece too. See, Claire is the Holy-fucking-Grail of abilities; her blood, tissue, bone, anything regenerates and cures anything. You could cure every disease in the world if you could work some scientific magic, and you could completely eliminate Shanti. Right now, they infect who they want to infect. You think it’s coincidence that Molly Walker got it? What better way to tempt the noble scientist than with the sweet, little girl that was orphaned and saved by the brave police officer? And the Haitian? What better way to completely blind Bennet than to take away his right hand man?”
“You knew-“
“What, that the Haitian’s still in his pocket? Those two were always thick as thieves and Bob knew it too.”
“That still doesn’t explain why you’re here.”
“I have very little conscience or compunction about killing people, but what they want to do with this virus, systematically killing those of us that don’t fit into their little utopian vision, wiping out whole blocks of regular people…Even I have a limit, Senator.”
“You still didn’t explain what that has to do with Claire,” Peter reminded her.
“I have explicit orders that should the young Miss Butler venture to the city, try to get involved in your little project, that I’m to infect her with the virus and then, just to be sure, zap a very specific portion of her brain, the part that fuels the regeneration. I don’t think you appreciate how special your girl really is. All of our powers, they’re pretty generic in the grand scheme of things, with the exception of your quicker, picker-upper thing. But Claire’s? There are only four recorded cases of regeneration, and two of those killed themselves after they realized that they were never going to die. Apparently immortality’s a real bitch.”
“Immortality?” all of the men echoed in a way that would’ve been comical if the topic hadn’t
been so severe.
“My involvement here is going to have to be…under the radar. I suggest you set up shop somewhere and then you give me a call. When you do, I’m going to introduce you to a friend of mine. I think you’ll find him quite…interesting.” She gracefully rose to her feet - no small accomplishment given the ridiculously high heels she was wearing - and declared, “I’ll be in touch.”
As she disappeared out of the bar, Matt gasped, “What the hell just happened?!”
“I think it’s time to save the world again.”
* * *
Claire was half asleep when her phone started to ring. Rolling over to grab it off of her night stand, she felt a flicker of excitement jump through her when she saw that it was Peter.
“Hey!” she greeted, unable to keep the smile off of her face.
“Hey.”
“What’s up? I didn’t think I’d hear from you tonight.”
“Yeah, I, um, I got your message.”
“You did? So what do you think? I mean, I know it’s kind of short notice, but my dad’s actually kind of okay with me checking out schools in New York. I figured while I’m there, we could-“
“No.”
“No?” she echoed in confusion. “No, it’s not the right time?”
“No, no, I think that…I don’t think New York is the right place for you to come to school.”
Claire tried to laugh. “Okay, my mom already gave me the whole ‘small town girl, big city’ lecture, and really, does it matter? I mean, we’d get to see each other. Who knows when we’ll get to again?”
“Claire-“
“My break’s in, like, a week, and I have ten days off of school so we can do-“
“Claire, I don’t want you to come.”
Claire felt as if the air had been sucked out of her lungs. “What?”
“I don’t want you to come to New York.”
“But I thought…You said when you left…”
“I said a lot of things.”
She felt the tears starting but she refused to shed them; after all, she had to be misunderstanding something. “Peter, I’m really lost. I feel like you’re saying-“
“Look, Claire, I need to get my life back on track.”
“I don’t understand. What about Sylar? What about doing something?”
“Sylar’s gone and it’s time to stop acting like kids. It’s better this way.”
“Better for whom? Peter, you’re not making sense. What’s going on? Look, I just want to see you-“
“I don’t want to see you, Claire!” Exhaling in irritation, he snapped, “You’re a sweet kid, but I can’t babysit you for the rest of your life. You need to get on with your life and let me get on with mine.”
Claire had survived head trauma, falls, a gun shot wound, fire, and a nuclear explosion, but she had never experienced a pain quite like the one that was currently ripping through her chest. “But…but I love you,” she whimpered pitifully, laying herself on the line, knowing that the Peter that she loved wouldn’t let her dangle there.
Instead, all that the stranger on the other end said in reply was, “Then you need to grow up.”
And then all that was left for Claire to hear was a dial tone and the sound of her own despaired sobbing.
* * *
Peter cried for over an hour for the pain that he knew he had caused the woman that he loved, but he knew that this was for the better.
If he wanted to keep Claire safe from the virus, she needed to hate him so much that she never wanted to see him again. And if it kept Claire safe, Peter would take the heartache; he had survived worse.
* * *
Dearest Claire,
I am so sorry. I hope one day you’ll forgive me.
I love you.
Peter
PART TWO