Dislaimer: I don’t own anything

Chapter Thirteen

“Insomnia”

Peter was strolling a particular grimy street, not quite knowing why or even where he was going. Instinct pulled a cord that rooted itself in his spirit, and the young man was dazedly strung along the streets of Queens at dusk.

Then all stopped. The cars, the stoplights. Even the smoggy air froze at a standstill before Peter’s eyes. And that’s when he heard it: the ticking. Loud, insistent chiming that came from no visible source. He turned his head to the left and the ticking got ridiculously louder. Peter winced, rubbing his ears, and read the sign on the shop’s broad glass window:

“Gray and Sons Watch Repairs.”

Frowning, Peter pushed through the front door, and was immediately wrenched through a maelstrom. Flying at the speed of light, through the shop, through a little brown door in the back, down the stairs, through various halls, and into a small, wooden cell.

Where Bennet was now sitting, chained to the wall.

“Mr. Bennet!” Peter gasped, rushing over to help the poor man. The bespectacled father looked up fearfully at his savoir.

“No, Peter, you have to go!”

“But I’m here, I can get you out!”

“Sylar, he’s here. It’s a trap! You have to leave, now!”

Then Peter heard laughter as cold as the waters of the Underworld, and felt a sharp pain to the back of his head. Everything faded to black…

At two o’ clock in the morning, Peter found himself awakening with a start in his fluffy king bed. His breath came heavy and there was sweat upon his brow, but he couldn’t for the life of him remember the exact details of the dream. Something about Queens, and Sylar, and Bennet, as well…Bennet said something, and then…had Peter died?

Groaning, he looked over at the clock, absorbing the time. His early bedtime had screwed over his body clock too, never mind how exhausted he was.

The stiff, fresh, day clothing he had put on just before drifting off might have had something to do with it as well. After stripping down to his boxers and smiling in contentment at the cool night air hitting his skin, Peter plopped back down on the bed and tried to remember the dream. Or at least, attempt sleep. Alas, nothing. He was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, and the only thing he could do was distract himself till morning. Or take a few shots of scotch, but he wasn’t too keen on drinking so heavily with Claire around. 

The blonde had retreated to the couch for another night, which Peter felt a pang of sheepishness about. Careful not to wake her, Peter slid his arms under Claire’s knees and back, gently lifting her from the couch. She squirmed a bit in her sleep and he froze. But all she did was snuggle into the crook of his neck and slip back into Neverland. Peter quickly but stiffly walked to his bedroom and laid her down on the bed. Claire sighed in her sleep and sunk into the pillows contendedly as Peter smiled down upon her.

He kneeled down beside her, after pulling the covers up to her shoulders, admiring her golden features in the dark. It was hard to notice the other accents of her beauty, for Peter was always so distracted with her striking blue-green eyes to take in anything else. But now that her lids were down, he could see it all: the smooth, youthful skin of her cheeks, her perfectly groomed eyebrows, and the shapely pink lips the spoke so much kindness.

However, the physical only made up about 10% of the reason why Peter Petrelli cherished the girl two feet in front of him. Claire had a way of seeing the good in him; much like he had the tendency of doing with other people, and her habit held no boundaries. There was no way to tell how this came about, their relationship. The bonds they shared were distinct only to them, and it all began with a little Japanese guy with a sword telling Peter to save the cheerleader…to save the world.

It all made sense now. Perhaps the reason he was going to explode was because of his rage, his darkness…and Claire, the cheerleader, was the only one that was able to save him. Or he was the one that was going to save the world, but first, he had to be saved. I take it back, Peter sighed. It still doesn’t make sense.

Peter recalled the night that he came home after trashing Claude’s cages. The fiery concern that Claire lashed out, and then the soft hand that intertwined with his. He’d promised himself, vowed to himself that he would never go “there” with her after some of the thoughts that marqueed through his brain that night. At the time, he saw it as perverted, wrong, and inappropriate considering their age difference. But now that he considered it, the age difference wasn’t all that big a deal. It’s just nine years. When she turns twenty, I’ll still be in my twenties.

Plus, it wasn’t even the practicality of the issue anymore. Her affection and perseverance had saved him from “the dark side,” not to mention save his life. Again. Some more. Maybe…maybe…that’s how things were supposed to work out. Peter didn’t know much about real life damsel-savior (or in this case, dude-saviorette) relationships, so he really couldn’t judge.

And, of course, there was the matter of how she felt, which was even more important then Peter’s vague sentiments. He could adapt his emotions. Claire was much more firm and less spontaneous, specific, and always strong. If she had feelings for him, she’d take him to Cloud Nine, but if she didn’t….Peter knew he’d be waist-deep in awkward conflict.

Lastly and unfortunately, any thing that he and Claire could possibly have together would have to be postponed until after the world was saved. Or, at least until after Bennet was safely rescued, and Sylar decapitated. Relationships bonded by ordeal were said to never work out, but if Claire could get a glimmer of her old life back…

…would she flock back to it and leave Peter behind, or merge the two worlds as one?

You’re thinking too much, Peter scolded himself. Don’t worry about that. She’s not going to leave you, not after all you two have been through. Bloody idiot.

Peter frowned and realized that his inner voice was speaking in British tones. He stood up from beside the bed and looked around shiftily. As Peter suspected, Claude was lazily leaning in a dark corner, watching his pupil admire his daughter.

“What are you still doing here?” Peter rasped, clearing his throat mid-way.

“Just watching over Claire. She was doing a lot while you were asleep. There’s some leftovers for you in the fridge, if you want ‘em.”

Peter pouted “Why didn’t she wake me up?”

“Ah, she said you looked so peaceful while you slept. Didn’t want to disturb you.” Claude was oddly serene, and Peter surmised it was probably the late hour that was to blame.

“And,” Claude continued, “I reckon you show her the same courtesy. Come, let’s take a walk.” He gestured into the kitchen, and Peter looked back, confused. But after Claude led through the kitchen and dining room, then onto the wrought iron fire escape, Peter understood.

“We all make mistakes, Peter,” Claude announced frankly, “but yours shouldn’t be treated like one. You were just plain thick and the only way you can redeem yourself is-,”

“-forgive myself first, yeah, Claire told me,” Peter grumbled back. Claude shook his head.

“Bollocks to that. Sure, forgive yourself all you want, but that’s not gonna make other people forgive you. Humans don’t give something for nothing. There always have to be a payoff in the end. What you need to do is do something for these people to show they can trust you. Show that you actually have a brain.”

Peter slumped against the railing. “I don’t know if I’m still myself. I’ll never be normal, really.”

“Save the world, Peter. People wouldn’t care if you were purple and had horns if you do that,” Claude said lowly. Peter scowled back.

“Saving the world is not a bargaining chip, and if you even go near saving Bennet...!”

“What do you mean, save Bennet?” Claude’s brow knitted. Peter cocked his head.

“Claire didn’t tell you about that? Her adoptive father was kidnapped by Sylar.”

. “Sylar?”

“Gabriel. The cannibal murderer guy.”

“Oh.” Claude groaned. “Well, she told me that her father was missing but I had no idea that Bennet was her foster daddy-o.”

Peter snorted in response. “Uh, Bennet’s also her last name.”

“I didn’t know her surname either!” Claude snapped. “Excuse me for hanging around you vague blighters!”

Bringing his fingers thoughtfully to his lips, Peter asked, “So what’s up with you and Bennet?”

“He was the one that shot me so many times I fell over the side of a bridge and turned permanently invisible, not long after Claire was born,” Claude replied bluntly.

Peter felt like a stone had just been dropped into his stomach. Luckily, he wasn’t drinking anything, or it would have gone spewing out into the New York night air.

“He what?!” Peter sputtered.

“On orders from The Company. I was hiding Claire’s mum Meredith and they found out about it. So they sent Bennet to kill me for treason. And I hope that now you understand why I’m not a people person.”

“I understand it, but you’re still wrong,” Peter replied defensively. “Claire’s dad pulled a leaf out of your book. He was hiding Claire from the Company after she manifested-,”

“They do generally dislike when people do that.”

“-yeah, so, and then he left them, with Parkman, to go hunt down Sylar. Claire ran away right before that to come see me, because she didn’t trust her dad anymore. She snuck away from her family right after Ted Sprauge blew up their house.”

Claude smirked. “He’s one cheeky bastard, ol’ Bennet. Better late then never though, I suppose.”

“I told Claire I’d try to find him, so we can go rescue him. And then I just had a dream about him. If I can remember where exactly he was…”

Claude sighed. “I think you just found yourself a new bribe for your superfreak friends, then.”

Peter waved his hands around. “It’s not a game, Claude! I want to save him because I care about Claire!”

“It doesn’t matter what you want it to be. It’s what they want it to be. History is just a set of lies agreed upon, lad. Welcome to Lesson Number Two: People Suck In Packs.”

Peter moaned, leaning against the brick wall. “You need to get over it. What’s it been, seventeen years?”

“Only sixteen,” Claude retorted.

“Only,” Peter facepalmed. “Look, here’s a lesson for you. Just…learn to move on, okay?”

Claude got up in Peter’s face angrily. “How can I get over it when I wake up every day with no reflection? I’ve spent sixteen years without my daughter and lady in my life because of that damn company, sixteen years of invisibility! You take it for granted, being able to turn it on and off.”

He backed off, and started fuming on the other side of the fire escape. Peter’s eyes were downcast, and he recalled the day that he had contemplated this very matter.

“I’m sorry,” Peter said quietly, “It’s just…”

He couldn’t even finish a sentence, because he had utterly no idea what to say back to Claude. Truth was, Claude was totally right to remain angry. The Company had ruined his life and stolen his family away from him. There was no getting back Claire’s childhood, or Meredith’s love. If only he could become visible again, just get a piece of his old life back, Claude could get over his grudge.

“Now I might not have let my anger go yet, but at least I don’t bottle it up like you,” Claude added, still looking out onto the cityscape. “I do actually express the rancor.”

 Peter frowned back. “How’s that any better?”

Claude finally turned his head towards the brunette. “Look what it did to you. You’ve been wonderin’, haven’t you? How you ended up on that dark edge. You’ve got your answer right there; all your life you’ve let people walk over you, put you down. You’re a kicked puppy that doesn’t want to bite back, and all that pent up emotion got to be too much. You need to learn to channel that, Peter, recycle it. It was too much when you lost control, it ate you up. But the truth is, you’re better then that fury, you’re stronger then it...”

“I never thought I’d hear a ‘believe in yourself’ monologue come out of your mouth,” Peter replied sardonically. Claude shrugged.

“You’d be a fool to hit the roof when you’ve got so much to live for. You’re young; you’ve got your whole life ahead of you. You’ve got people that care about you, that love you. My life is over. I can afford to hate

the world.”

Peter rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Claude Raines, always the exception to the rule.”

“Tomorrow’s another day, mate,” Claude continued. “Pick yourself back up and work on the bigger problems.”

“Like Bennet.”

“I really do hate that man,” Claude muttered, “but he is important to Claire, so you’d better go save him.” He clapped his hand on Peter’s shoulder and turned to leave. “Go get some sleep. Maybe the dream’ll come back.”

Peter smirked at Claude’s attempt to be nice. “I think I’ve had a good influence on you.”

Claude guffawed. “You? If I had been influenced by you, a few people would be dead by now.” Peter grimaced, a barb pricking his heart at the memory of Simone. I guess he hasn’t gone soft after all.

Peter mused this over so much, he didn’t even notice the invisible man leave. He sat down on the creaky metal steps, fourteen stories up, and looked out onto the city which he was on the brink of destroying.

Maybe Claude was right. Saving the world was the path to redemption, and not just from a material point of view. Peter wasn’t set to care about other’s views of him. He didn’t want to be seen as a murderer, but this concern was on the backburner for now. Peter needed personal salvation. Even after Claire’s kind words, and the fact that he was done with being dark, Peter still felt guilt about all that he’d done. I killed Simone. I almost killed Matt. I pushed everyone away, trashed Claude’s roof, hurt Nathan. Am I really done with it, or am I just good until I get angry again? This was a prospect that mystified and scared him all at once.

Following Claude’s advice for once, Peter stood, wiped the rust off the back of his boxers, and headed inside. He pulled a blanket from his linin closet and headed to the couch, taking one last look at Claire. The girl was still out, smiling in her sleep and curled up in his covers. Sleep did not come easily for Peter, but eventually, he too felt the dark blanket start to smother him as his mind took him to the world of dreams and nightmares.

***

Peter Petrelli and Claire Bennet

Peter’s Apartment

Claire nearly dropped her glass of orange juice when Peter told her about his dream.

“You saw him! Where is he? Is he okay?”

Peter looked away and sympathetically said, “I don’t really recall. He’s in Queens, and I remember a lot of ticking, like a clock, too. Then your dad was frantic, but I couldn’t for the life of me tell you what he was saying.”

“He’s so close,” breathed Claire, closing her eyes. “We should go to Queens. Maybe you’ll be able to actually sense Sylar from there.”

“Yeah…,” Peter replied, a knot suddenly building in his stomach. Something was off about this situation, but he couldn’t quite place it. His instincts were going haywire in paranoia. Just stress, he thought absently.

“And now that we have a lead, we should call Matt Parkman. He’s a good man, he wants to help me.”

Peter made an unpleasant noise. “Sure he wants to help me? I did almost kill him, remember?”

That on top of the fact that Peter was still slightly irked at requiring help on this mission. Whether he was the cop or the robber, Peter still had the raw ability to take Sylar on his own, and he knew it. Luckily, his practical conscience stepped in to calm him down, reminding him that power is only as good as the training you have to use it. Which he, admittedly, did not have nearly enough of.

Claire’s smile was confident. “Like I said, he’s a good man. He’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. What about Nathan and Isaac? And those guys that from Vegas?”

“I’m nowhere near ready to level with Isaac or my brother yet,” Peter murmured seriously. “But what guys from Vegas? I haven’t heard anything about that.”

“Oh, there’s these two Japanese guys. I think one was named Hiro- Isaac said that he can teleport- and they went to go steal a sword. A blonde stripper, who they said was Hiro’s friend’s girlfriend or something, helped them. All three are coming here to New York. They should be here by now; they left yesterday morning.”

Peter nearly laughed at the craziness of the story, but he squarely replied, “The other one’s name is Ando. I met him at the Burnt Toast Diner the night I went to go save you.”

Claire grinned nostalgically. “You went to Burnt Toast? I love that place; Zach and I ate there all the time…” Her smile drooped at the memory of her amnesiac best friend as Peter continued.

“I’ve only talked to Hiro Nakamura on the phone, but I did meet his future self.”

Claire nodded. “Oh, you mentioned that yesterday. He was the one that told you to save me?”

“Same guy.”

“Then I’ll have to thank Hiro when I see him,” Claire beamed shyly.

Peter’s lips turned up in the smile that Claire had missed. “Me too. But anyway, I don’t know the blonde woman they’re with. Hiro and Ando were traveling alone as far as I know.”

“Are you on their good side?”

“We don’t really know each other, but they seem like sweet guys. Hiro obviously likes me in the future.”

Claire looked at her watch. “Alright, it’s two o’ clock now. I’ll call Matt on my cell and tell him to meet us in Queens somewhere.”

“There’s a café called Lazeeza Coffee Shop. Tell him to go there.”

“Do you have a way to get in touch with Hiro and Ando?”

“I think Ando’s number is still in my cell phone history,” Peter nodded.

Claire took a final swig out of her glass and set it in the sink. “Good. Tell them to meet us at three thirty.”

She walked off to go call Matt, and Peter found himself smirking at her breezy shift into a decision-maker. Normally, he’d feel slightly petulant that a seventeen year old girl was giving him orders, but Claire pulled it off well. She’d always been mature, but she was close to being a woman. A strong and beautiful, yet caring and gentle young woman that was starting to charm Peter more then he’d like to admit. Then again, Claire’s days of being a teenage girl had ended that first time she saw her skin knit back together.

When Claire disappeared into the master bedroom, Peter grabbed his charging cell phone from off of the counter. Rifling through past calls, he thankfully saw Ando Masahashi’s cell number still in the database. Seriously praying that neither of the Japanese businessmen had seen Simone’s corpse yet, he dialed the number and held his breath.

***

Matt Parkman

The Rose Gazebo Hotel, Brooklyn

Matt felt his cell phone vibrate in his jacket pocket and grimaced. Even the ten bucks worth of traveler sized aspirins he had bought from the hotel gift shop weren’t doing much to dull his chest pain. He never really believed in “that’s going to hurt tomorrow” until now, when his heart ached a hell of a lot more then it did yesterday.

It was with annoyed reluctance that Matt reached into his breast pocket and pulled out his Katana, but when he saw the name on caller ID, all previous frets were abandoned.

“Claire? God, are you alright? Where are you?” he immediately blurted into the mouthpiece.

“I’m fine, I’m at Peter’s.” Claire could hear Matt’s groan from across the phone lines.

“That can’t be good.”

“Actually, it is. He’s back to normal now. Fixing him was…rough…but I think this time it’s gonna stick. He learned his lesson and he wants to help.”

It took Matt a good few seconds to mull it over. “So he found your dad?”

“Almost. He said that Dad’s in Queens, and he can get s better sense for Sylar if we go there. Can you meet us at Lazeeza Coffee Shop at three-thirty?”

“I can make that, but Claire…I still don’t know…are you sure we can depend on Peter? I mean, he just killed Simone Deveaux not a day ago!”

Matt could hear Claire’s stern look. “It was an accident. When I came home and saw him...Matt, he felt so guilty…” She struggled to put into words what she had witnessed, but it only gave her a tight chest and stinging eyes. Claire chose not to divulge any details.

“Fine,” Matt groaned, knowing he was going to regret this. “I’ll see you at three-thirty.”

He heard a dial tone on the other end of the line.

Doesn’t anybody say goodbye anymore?

***

 A/N Alright, I’ve totally manipulated the Company Man backtories and stuff, but here is what the back-story of THIS story is, in case it wasn’t clear:

 Meredith was trained by Claude, who worked for The Company with Bennet, eighteen years ago. Meredith got pregnant with Claire. Claude kept Claire and Meredith safe from the Company, but the bad guys found out. They sent Bennet to shoot Claude, just like how it happened on the actual show, except it was 16 years ago, not 7, like in canon. Then, they went to go bag Meredith, but she started a fire. They still got her out of the house though, and Claire was left inside. Claude followed, permanently invisible, and rescued Claire from the fire, setting her outside to wait for Meredith to come get her. He ran away, for he couldn’t be, in his opinion, any use to them invisible. Unbeknownst to him, The Company was there, and they found Claire. They gave Claire to Bennet, also unbeknownst to Claude. He always assumed that she and Meredith had made it out okay. The end.