Chapter Nine

“Serious As A Heart Attack”

Peter Petrelli, Claude Raines, and Claire Bennet

Peter’s Apartment, Lower East Side

Though Isaac Mendez was on the same side as Peter, he was still the last person that Peter desired to talk to. So with a carefree flick of his hand, Peter telekinetically slid his cell phone back to the end table.

“Now you’re just getting lazy,” Claude grumbled. Peter shrugged apathetically, his burst of euphoria slipping into sullenness after the mood breaking call.

He hardly noticed the quick hug and kiss on the cheek that Claude gave Claire before the invisible man made his way to the door.

“Well, I’m off to steal some supper. I’ll be back tomorrow though, for Lassie.”

Peter frowned and looked at his watch. “Supper? It’s ten in the morning.”

Claude snorted. “Says who? Not like anyone’s gonna notice if I gain a few pounds.”

Claire giggled lightly as Peter gave up. “Goodbye, Claude.”

Before Claude shut the front door, he poked his head back though, shooting Peter a serious look.

“And mate? If you ever look at my daughter like you want to throw her against a wall and snog her ever, ever, again…I’ll kill you. G’day.”

Claire grinned, for whenever Claude made a line like that, there were two options: cower in embarrassment or laugh along. Peter, on the other hand, was doing most of the cringing, burying his red face in his hands.

Is it that obvious?  he groaned internally. Nathan was right. I need to see a doctor. Get some drugs. Cause’ this is getting out of control.

His discomfort was obvious to Claire, making her grin droop. Peter was an easy guy to embarrass, she had discovered, especially by a witty tongue like Claude. But a comment like that had been meant in jest, while Peter looked as though he’d been caught red-handed. And as usual, he covered up his mortifications by sulking.

Slumping into a chair as far away from Claire as possible, Peter hugged his knees to his chest tiredly. Claire saw his cell phone blinking again. Nathan’s phone number flashed on the caller ID and she set the phone on Peter’s armrest.

“It’s Nathan,” she said nonchalantly, “probably telling us that he’s coming over.”

Peter groaned. “Turn it off; I’m sick of people calling me.”

“You should answer it,” Claire suggested slowly, even though her thumb was switching the cell phone off. “Call off the deal. You don’t need it anymore. Claude finally came out and told us who he is so Nathan’s side of the offer would be worthless. He did something nice for you; you should at least do what he wanted.”

The bottom half of Peter’s face was buried in his knees and Claire heard a muffled noise coming out from him. “So what, are you all of a sudden on his side now that he’s your dad?”

Claire stood. “It’s not like that. I think he’s right because he’s right.”

“Why are we even worrying?” Peter muttered more loudly, looking up at her. “It’s not like Nathan’s gonna do anything. He can’t hurt me; he can’t….force me to give up my powers.”

“You’re so stubborn, you know that?!” yelled Claire, digging her hands into her hair. Peter jumped at her outburst, blinking at her bewilderedly.

Claire continued to rant at him. “I’m sick of it! I’m sick of this! Why do you keep fighting with me, Peter? You have to disagree with everything I say, everything Claude says, everything anyone says! You think you’re this genius martyr just because you’re meant to save to world, and destroy it at the same time. Why can’t you just keep your promises, and stop lying to me? I mean, what’s going on with you? I want to help you, but you keep shutting me out. We were getting along great, then one day you come home and you’re this bad version of yourself that I don’t even know, and sometimes I feel like you don’t even want me to be here. Geez, just…what do you want, Peter?”

Peter, standing up to his full height, towered over Claire herself. The teenager stared back confidently.

“I don’t know what’s happening either,” said Peter frankly, “and I don’t know what I want. Should I give up my powers to stop from exploding or should I use them to save the world? But I do want you here. I love having you here; it’s the only thing keeping me level-headed right now. If you weren’t here, I dunno what would happen. You’re the only one that can diffuse me,” Peter arched an eyebrow. Claire insides squirmed at his wording and Peter noticed her heart melt behind her green eyes.

“Why me?” she whispered.

Peter made a noncommittal noise. “Why anybody?  Hiro Nakamura told me to save you. To be to one we need. It doesn’t make any sense, but we’ve just got to trust it. Hiro didn’t mention anything about me being the bomb, but maybe that’s why he told me to save you. If you’re alive, you can stop the bomb. If you’re alive…you can stop me.”

“That still doesn’t make sense,” Claire replied desperately. “I’m a girl who can grow back her skin. How can I stop a bomb?”

Peter sighed and sat back down on the couch. “I’m not a crystal ball, Claire,” he said tiredly.  “Worst case scenario…we’ll find out on November 8^th.”

*

Matt Parkman and Isaac Mendez

Isaac’s Loft, New York City

“No luck?” confirmed Isaac dryly, watching Matt flip his own cell phone shut.

“Nah, it didn’t even ring. Just went straight to voicemail.”

Isaac frowned. “I thought he would answer if I wasn’t on the caller ID.” Matt snorted.

“Looks like he doesn’t want to be bothered by anyone,” the cop responded, grabbing his light denim overcoat that was dangling from one of Isaac’s easels. He walked back to the painter boldly.

“But,” Matt began. “He’s just gonna have to deal with a knock on his door, because this is urgent. Write down his address for me, will ya?”

Isaac complied, ripping a scrap page out of his sketchpad with all of Peter’s contact information on it.

“It’s about a mile away,” he added as Matt was trooping up the small flight of steps to Isaac’s front door. “You should probably walk. Getting a taxi is impossible, even at this hour.”

“Thanks,” Matt nodded his head tersely before pocketing the stiff paper and heading through the glass paned entrance. He chose to pursue Isaac’s advice to walk (Could use the exercise anyway, he thought, absently patting his round torso), and luckily, the street signs were clearly marked in this part of town. It wasn’t difficult to find Canal Street, and from there, it was a straight shot to Peter’s apartment.

The building itself was slightly grimy, in a vintage sort of way. Matt imagined how New York City probably looked fifty years before, full of lavish structures such as this. This rusty, tarnished, stone apartment complex had been the prime of this street at one point. Now, it was nothing but a faded glory.

On the contrary, the sleek ebony Lincoln that pulled up at the meter nearest to Matt was anything but flawed. Parkman blinked a couple times, wondering if he’d ever be able to afford something like that on a traffic worker’s pay. The heavyset man inattentively chuckled to himself. He could barely afford to dream.

A thin man of average height, maybe 5’9” or 5’10” at most, coolly slid out of the backseat of the car. My God, the man’s even got a servant to open the door for him, tittered Matt, shaking his head with in amusement. He shouldered his way through the entrance door, the classy man not far behind.

What’s the Clinton-wannabee in a place like this for? Matt thought, now shiftily hastening his pace to the elevator. An affair, that’s it. Guys like that are always around in grubby hotel rooms and stuff.

Matt had never considered a superpower to make the elevator work, but this one time, it could’ve been put to good use. Groaning internally as Mr. Posh Spice appeared next to him, both waiting around silently for the building’s only elevator, Matt seriously considered taking the stairs. That would break your back, you idiot. You just walked a mile! Just don’t make eye contact.

It wasn’t that he despised this stranger. Matt was a lovable and rather compassionate guy. But men like this were everything that Matt wasn’t: a success. Women were proud to call them their husbands. They were providers, not failures. Overcoming dyslexia was like a puzzle for two-year olds for these men. Why did they have to get it all? Nothing could come to Matt every once in a while? I’m losing my mind, my marriage, my wife’s pregnant, and I’m pretty much out of a job. Christ, I need to get my act together or…

…Heidi’s gonna leave me, I’m sure of it.

Matt reeled for a spilt second before regaining his stiff footing. He dared to take a small look at the gentleman beside him, the same gentleman whose thoughts he was sure he’d just read. After all, he didn’t know anyone named Heidi. Was this the man’s wife? And she was going to leave him?

The sides of Matt’s lips twitched into a small smile as a wave of empathy connected him to the stranger. Women, right, man?

Heidi…election…Monty, Simon, kids….Heidi…Peter…Mom…Peter…Heidi..election..win…congress…

Peter? No way.

The elevator finally decided to grace Matt and Nathan with its presence, and they stepped inside together. Matt reached for the “14” button at the same time as the other man. Nathan smiled fakely, stepping back.

“Looks like we’re off to the same place then,” he said, clearly making small talk.

“Same apartment, maybe?” inquired Matt.

Nathan was still grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “I doubt that.”

“You’re not going to 1407?” Matt asked innocently. “Peter Petrelli?”

Nathan’s politician smile dropped like a watermelon off the Empire State Building. “Why are you going to pay my brother a visit?” He was trying to keep his voice even, but Matt sensed animosity underneath.

“I’ll show mine if you show yours.”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Trust me,” snorted Matt. “There’ve been things I’ve seen that I still don’t believe and I saw them with my own two eyes. At this point, I’m up for anything.”

Nathan took a deep breath. “There’s this evolution bug going around, and we need Peter for the cure.”

Matt scratched the back of his neck. “Evolution bug?”

Rubbing his forehead impatiently, Nathan muttered. “It’s giving people abilities. Unnatural abilities, like being able to bend spoons with your mind-,”

“Or being able to read other people’s thoughts?”

“Yeah, like that.”

Now Matt was intrigued. A cure? He could actually fix this, this thing that was happening to him. But what did Peter Petrelli have to do with creating it? Matt recalled the young man’s background records. He was a hospice nurse, about six months out of college; hair as black as it could probably come…dark, piercing eyes…bangs that he kept swiping out of his face in the interrogation room…and this odd sort of innocence around him that was broken in desperation.

“You’re not protecting her!”

“Why would you know who he wanted?”

“You wanna catch this guy? You need to find her, you need to protect her!”

Petrelli had seemed timid and frantic until the moment Claire Bennet came up into the conversation. Matt remembered something either snapping or igniting past Peter’s warm eyes, and a fierce determination to protect a girl he didn’t know was all Peter seemed to channel.

By the time Matt’s thoughts were broken, he and Nathan were no longer facing the doors of the elevator, but a green wall of dingy chipped paint.

“Well…this way,” gestured Nathan awkwardly, stepping out of the compartment and taking a right down the hallway he’d been in a hundred times. Matt followed suit, though several feet behind the candidate for congress.

1407.  Nathan raised his finger to the doorbell.

Peter and Claire

Peter’s Apartment, Lower East Side

“There’s someone at the door.”

Peter barely heard himself murmuring this, frowning dazedly, opening his eyes and perking up his head. For the past few minutes, he’d been overcome with fatigue. The reason why was indefinite; it was only ten-thirty and he’d gotten plenty of sleep. Ever since Claude had arrived, though, Peter felt stretched out, thin, and for some reason, touch-sensitive. Claire could be a whole four feet away and he could feel her as if she was wrapped in one of his iron embraces. Her body heat, the smoothness of her skin, and the energy of her power flowing out from her body, being absorbed into his own. Not that this was necessary. Peter already had Claire burned into his DNA, along with Claude, Nathan, and so many others. Yet, his power naturally soaked up any abilities within the proximity.

“You must be hearing things,” Claire replied, poking her head out of the bathroom. She’d hastily excused herself after their skirmish, making up some lame explanation about needing to brush her teeth. Peter was too exhausted to protest, and his head hit the pillow before Claire turned on the faucet.

“I didn’t hear it.” Peter sat up straighter. “I…trust me; I think there’s someone at the door.”

As if on cue, the doorbell buzzed shrilly and Claire’s eyes widened in Peter’s direction.

“How’d you know that?”

Peter hesitated. “I just felt it. Or them…I think it’s two people.”

Buzz-buzz-buzz.

Claire looked at the chipped green door uncertainly. “Should I answer it?” she asked slowly.

Peter stood up wordlessly, walking over to the entrance for her. Without looking through the peephole, he grabbed the doorknob and turned it. Congressman-to-be Nathan Petrelli was standing a foot in front of him.

“You haven’t been answering your cell phone,” Nathan said coolly, inviting himself in.

“Good Morning, dear brother,” replied Peter sardonically, about to close the door, when another figure appeared in front of him.

“Wait,” Peter frowned, “You’re that cop, Matt Parkman. The guy who read my mind.”

Claire immediately rushed to them, creating a barrier between Peter and Matt.

“Ted isn’t with you, is he?” she fired frantically. Matt looked upon her, confused.

“No, he’s out in California somewhere. We didn’t take him with us, because we were afraid Sylar could get a hold of him.”

Peter gently moved Claire out of the way so Matt could enter the apartment as well. When he finally closed the door, it was like cutting off the oxygen tank to the entire room. Peter’s head was spinning as he became dizzily aware of the three warm bodies near to his own. Not letting anyone on to his lethargy, he took a deep breath, sat down, and tried to block out his latest sixth sense.

Nathan looked stiffly around at the current company before beckoning Peter up. The younger brother groaned internally. I just sat down, Nate…

“Could you excuse us, please?” Nathan told Matt and Claire, a little too impatient to be fully gracious.

The mind reader and the cheerleader granted Nathan’s request silently, stepping into the bedroom to continue their conversation.

“Who’s Sylar?” Claire asked Parkman. “Is he....

“The man that killed Jackie?” Matt finished her sentence. “Yeah, he’s been cutting out the brains of people all over the country. James Walker, this woman in Montana named Dale Smither...God only knows what he does with them, but I do know he someone takes their powers from it. At least that’s what your dad told me.”

People want what you have and will hurt you to get it, Claire recalled her father telling her the night of homecoming.

“We were chasing him down, your dad and I,” continued Matt. “We followed the trail of victims-,”

“Which wasn’t helping them much,” Claire pointed out.

Matt snorted. “I know, but it’s the only way we could track him. The Company put a tracker in Sylar, but the system is here in New York.”

Claire vacillated. “Why were you after him in the first place?”

“To stop him before he found you. It’s your dad’s mission,” Matt explained kindly. “I’m just along to help him. My wife’s having a baby, so I know what it’s like to want to protect your family…”

There was a question that had been burning in the back of Claire’s mind ever since Matt showed up, alone. Every fiber of her being wanted to know, but somehow, she already knew the answer was grim.

Matt heard her emotional thoughts and put a soothing hand on her shoulder. “You dad’s gonna be alright.”

“Going to be alright? What happened to him?” Claire’s eyes darted back and forth fearfully. Her father had torn their family apart, lied to her, and hurt Sandra, but for the past seventeen years, he was still her dad. The same dad that read her stories before bedtime, sat by her when she was sick, brought her teddy bears from all over the world. She could never wish real harm to him, and now that he was in danger, she realized how much she still did care about him.

Matt opened his mouth to answer, but a shout from Peter and the sound of broken glass diverted his attention to the Petrelli brothers in the next room.

As Matt and Claire were having their endearing chat, Nathan and Peter were carrying on a more heated conversation of their own.

After the two other guests left the room, Nathan turned to Peter, resting his hands on his hips.

“You know why I’m here.”

“To collect my DNA,” Peter answered emotionlessly. “But I’m not giving it up, Nathan, okay?”

Nathan stared. “Whadaya mean you’re not giving it up?” There was force in the lawyer’s voice now that he was trying not to turn into anger. “We had a deal, remember?”

Peter walked over to him, putting his hands on Nathan’s shoulders. “It doesn’t matter now. We found him, Lewis Rushton. We found Claire’s father.”

Nathan shrugged off Peter’s hands, stepping back and rubbing his forehead dumbfounded.

“Found him? You’ve got to be kidding me; I’ve had the best private eyes in the state looking for the guy. Every database, every archive, I’ve come up empty. How could you find him?”

“It’s hard to explain, but now that we know…there’s no way you ever could have found him.”

“So you wasted my time and money on some wild goose chase?” Nathan was raising his voice now, scowling across at his little brother.

 “We didn’t know that at the time! I honestly thought you could help us. But it’s over now, so…deal’s off,” Peter bit back defensively.

“The deal is not off!” Nathan snapped back. “You’ve got an obligation. You wanna save the world? Help with the cure, Peter. Do you know how many people out there don’t want these powers? How they can be harmful, deadly?”

“You just want it for yourself!” cried Peter shoving Nathan back more harshly then he’d intended, causing Matt and Claire to whip their heads around and rush into the room.

Nathan had gone careening into an end table, hitting just hard enough to knock over the ceramic lamp that was resting upon it. Luckily, he’d come out of the fall without injury, but Peter’s sudden outburst was enough to spook him.

“Now calm down, Pete,” Nathan panted, raising up a palm in his brother’s direction.

“No, I can’t be calm,” retorted Peter. “Look what you’re trying to do! You’re trying to force me to take this thing. God, I thought I could trust you, but they were all right. You’re just a selfish son of a bitch that-,”

Nathan’s fist came out of nowhere, too fast for Peter to block with any of his powers. The only thing he had on his side was pure instinct, animal instinct to fight back with all the force he could muster. Claire’s shrieks and Matt’s loud yells could be heard on the outer walls of his tunnel hearing. The only trick was that Peter was still weakened by exhaustion, and for all his wiry strength, he was still fighting a losing battle.

Nathan had never hit his little brother before. Even when they were children, he was always the protector of Peter, more like a father figure. Oh, Nathan could yell like a hurricane when needed too, but callous words were all it took to make Peter’s sensitive heart blatant in the red color of his ashamed face. These days, though, Peter had an iceberg for a heart it seemed. Hesitation to physically snap his brother out of it was not an option anymore for Nathan.

Peter used ever cell in his body to give as tough as he was getting, which managed to keep Nathan at bay for a few seconds. Soon enough, though, Matt’s thick hands had each of the men by the shoulder, pulling their feud apart.

It was the first moment where Peter’s powers show up, where they appeared to be weaved into his very soul. With a simple glare, he tapped into his telekinesis to send Matt and Nathan flying back in different directions. Claire screamed and ducked behind a chair, Nathan hitting the wall beside her with a loud thud. For all his faults, Claire’s heart still pounded in worry for him. Once he had hit, he’d fallen limp at Claire’s knees.

“Nathan,” she gasped, clutching Peter’s brother’s face and checking for blood on his forehead. He’ll live, but his head’s gonna hurt like hell when he wakes up.

A loud, choked, groan broke her out of her caretaking of Nathan. Matt had not been knocked out, and in this case, it made him the unluckier of Peter’s two opponents. Claire’s friend, hero, and confidant was standing three feet in front of Matt, his arm outstretched and his fist clutched so tightly that his fingernails were making welts on his palms. Meanwhile, Matt was gasping and clutching his chest, twitching all over. With a start, Claire realized exactly what Peter was doing to the poor officer.

He was stopping Matt’s heart with his mind.

Claire didn’t have time to wonder how this was even possible. If nothing happened within the next ten seconds or so, Matt would be a goner.

“Peter!” Claire screeched at the top of her lungs, quickly standing up from Nathan’s unconscious form. But Peter was past the point of no return, and all he did was hasten Matt’s death.

If he wasn’t going to listen to her, there was only one thing to do. It pained Claire to the core, but this was a life or death situation. Her emerald eyes did a quick scan of the room for blunt objects, and she thankfully found a large bottle of red wine in the corner of the room. Peter was too in the zone to see the small blonde yank the bottle off of the triangle shaped table, creep up behind him, and raise the wine menacingly before smashing it down onto his skull.

Peter fell to the floor, half-awake and half-dazed. “Claire?” he gasped, inaudible to everyone, as he saw the girl step over his body and help Matt off the floor.

“Are you okay?” she gasped hurriedly, unaware of the concerned hand she was pressing against Matt’s chest. He grunted back, taking a few, painful breaths before wheezing back. 

“We’ve gotta get you out of here, Claire. It’s dangerous.”

“But I-,” she began, ready to protest, when she looked down at Peter’s limp body. What had he just done? If she hadn’t intervened, Matt would have been dead. And what about Nathan? Would Peter have just moved on to that kill next? And after that…what would happen to Claire? How much blood was Peter willing to have on his hands, or would it take a death to steer him back to the light?

The man she had run to protect her was no longer safe. Surely, he’d never hurt Claire intentionally, but accidents could happen. She wasn’t even sure if she could survive an artificial heart attack, when there was nothing to regenerate, really.

“Hold on,” she decided after a few seconds thought. “Let me get a couple things.”

Abandoning her clothes, luggage, most everything, for Peter would be fully awake any minute now; Claire simply grabbed a key, her cell, and some money before meeting Matt back in the living room. He really should have gone to bed then and there, and stayed there for a week to recover, but there was too much urgency to get away from Peter Petrelli as fast as possible.

“Let’s go,” he breathed, holding the door open for Claire to exit the former haven.

Right before she took a step towards the outer hallway, Claire craned her head back around to gaze at Peter. Matt watched her swiftly swoop down to her knees, kiss Peter soothingly on the cheek, and lean back up.

“I know my hero’s still in there,” was her tormented whisper in Peter’s ear. With one last brush of her lips to his temple, she got up on her feet and followed Matt through the divide of warm lighted purity and blue-tinted evil.