Chapter Nineteen

“Part I: Memory Lane”

Peter Petrelli and Claire Bennet

Peter’s Apartment, Lower East Side

Even though Nathan called him and encouraged him to vote at seven o’clock in the morning, Peter still harbored no intention of doing so. Today, Election Day, had been ruining his life for the past six months. There was no reason to do any service to it. Besides, if today was the last day he’d be living, why spend it standing in line to go vote? No, Peter Petrelli was quite content lounging around with Claire, trying to live out the rest of their lives together. In one day, that is.

“You’ve picked a good day to devote to me,” Claire told him nonchalantly at breakfast, a knowing smile playing across her lips.

“It could be the last day on Earth,” he agreed, half in jest, half in sincerity. He set down his waffles and took a seat.

“Or,” she added, suddenly shy. “My birthday.”

Peter looked up from the stack of food he was syruping and broke out into a grin. “Today’s your birthday? Your eighteenth?”

“Mmm-hmm,” Claire replied, absently tilting Mrs.Buttersworth upright in his hand, for syrup had started flooding his waffles. “On Election Day this year. I still can’t go vote, though; not having registration, and all that stuff.”

“I could teleport you to a voting booth invisibly,” Peter pointed out, and Claire rolled her eyes.

“Gee, how exciting. I get to learn about democracy and all that crap on my birthday. That’s a fun way to spend my last day.”

Peter sort of felt sorry for her. Not that they had an actual intention of dying on November 8^th, but there was a heavy possibility. Niki still wasn’t been able to channel the dead at will. And now, Election Day was even more bittersweet. Claire officially turned into an adult, and could never even get to enjoy it.

“I really could teleport you somewhere, though,” Peter offered later on, after he’d finished putting the dishes in the dishwasher. “Anywhere you want. It could be my birthday present to you.”

Claire’s eyes lit up mischievously. “Could we go to the moon?”

“Uh…anywhere in the world,” Peter corrected himself.

The blonde chewed on her lip for a few minutes, pacing, while Peter simply watched her. This had been one of the luckiest situations of his life, meeting Claire. Usually, he was strung along for months with a girl before finally giving up, or admitting his feelings and being rejected. Though Claire looked up to him as some sort of white knight that she’d always adored, Peter was actually quite shy and unsuccessful. Claire once joked about how such a great guy like him (her words, not his) could have no job, no house, and no car. Peter merely chuckled and didn’t even bother to explain that he quit his job to go save her, and it’s not like anybody owned houses or cars in New York, anyway.

“Why don’t you read my mind?” Claire suggested, moseying on over to him. She wrapped slender arms around his waist and looked up at him, chin resting in the valley on his chest.

Peter cocked his head and did as she recommended, her thoughts projecting clearly at him. Where she wanted to go was quite romantic and creative, even for a teenage girl. Well-he corrected himself-not a teenager anymore…

“Alright,” Peter smiled and she knew he understood. Tied in each other’s embrace, Peter and Claire silently dissolved into thin air.

*

When Claire opened her eyes, she was greeted by the hallway she’d seen every weekday for the past three years. That and the shining glass trophy case standing beside her guaranteed that Peter read her thoughts correctly.

“This is different from what I remember,” Peter murmured, releasing Claire and turning to the trophy case. Jackie Wilcox’s heroine shrine had now been replaced with a memorial for the same girl. For this was, indeed, the same hallway. Peter’d made sure of that. It was Claire’s request, after all. Take me to where we first met.

Peter was a little apprehensive at first, afraid that he would teleport in the middle of a hallway full of teenagers. Then he remembered that it was Election Day, and school was luckily out in the first place.

Giggling slightly, Claire grabbed Peter’s arms and turned him perpendicular to Jackie’s shrine.

“Stand right like that,” she ordered, taking a few steps down the hall before facing him. “Do you remember what you said to me? When we were standing like this?”

“Life after high school gets a lot better,” Peter grinned, even tilting his head to the side a bit like on Homecoming night. “I might have lied.”

“I don’t think so,” Claire disagreed cheerfully, striding back over to him. “I like you a lot more then I ever liked high school.”

“Even when we’re being stalked by murderers and tomorrow might be the end of the world?”

Claire looked at him sincerely. “I’d rather keep the last two weeks of my life the way they’ve been, than live them out in a high school lie. I mean, some things I’d change, but…for the most part…I like being myself with you, and Claude…and Hiro, and everyone else. I could never do that here.”

Peter understood ten-fold what she meant. Before he manifested, his life was also full of loneliness, no meaning, and hiding under falsehoods for Nathan’s election. Even with danger, and torment, his life finally had purpose now.

“Did you ever think we’d end up like this? When we met here?” She emphasized ‘here’ by bumping into him slightly, creating an exact replica of their first touch.

“No,” Peter confessed. “But there was something about you that I noticed. You reminded me of me.”

“Really?” she asked, flushing slightly. “I just thought you were cute.”

Peter laughed, but Claire’s acute sense of him noticed a pink blush across his cheeks as well.

“C’mon,” Claire said, pulling him along by the hand. “I want to show you some other stuff.”

Her outdoor locker was the closest thing to them at the time. It was right next to Zach’s, the one with the Celtic knot sticker on it, which Claire smiled upon. That was how they became friends, Zach and Claire. She needed a cameraman and she knew the owner of the locker next to hers was a film geek. After lunch one day, she casually asked for help. And that had been the start of a beautiful, but tragic friendship.

There were still books and hair pulls, and gossipy notes from cheerleaders in her locker, she was sure, and she tried to open the padlock.

But she couldn’t remember the combination. Three numbers that her life used to revolve around were now gone from her memory. Peter shrugged and offered to use one of his many powers to open it for her, but she declined. Nothing in that locker was worth saving to Claire. It was all a bunch of useless, petty little things that built her up for a nonexistent future.

They were off to the front of the school next, and Peter stopped her when they were in front of the gym.

“Anybody ask about this?” he smirked, pointing to his feet. Below his boots was a large, Peter Petrelli shaped stain imbedded into the concrete. After falling five stories to his death, it turned out that Peter left a bloody souvenir on the pavement.

“Nobody asked me. I was only in school for a couple days before I came to see you. And mostly, I just hung out by myself, or with Zach.”

Her voice faltered a bit on her friend’s name, and Peter stepped in to kindly offer, “You want to go see him next?”

“I don’t know where he lives, or where my family is now,” she replied hopelessly, feeling slightly stupid that she didn’t even know her best friend’s address. “But thanks. I…I think we should probably go home now.”

Peter was about to protest that they just got there, but it was her birthday, after all. Her wish was his command, and if Claire felt like they were done, then he would return them to New York without question.

A few moments later, the couple was back in apartment 1407. The sickly look on Claire’s face remained, however, even when they were away from the hot sun of Texas.

“What’s wrong?” Peter frowned, gently pulling Claire by the shoulders to the couch, and beckoning her to sit down by him.

Claire looked at her feet. “Nothing’s wrong, it’s just…”

Peter recognized that sad, forlorn expression and he realized what she wanted. The one person that couldn’t be with her on this monumental day. “You wish your dad was here.”

“Read my mind?” Claire asked with a half-hearted chuckle. Peter shook his head.

“Not this time.”

Claire finally looked up at him. “I’m sorry; it’s stupid and impossible, I can never get him back.”

“It’s not stupid,” Peter replied, wiping away a stray tear that fell down her cheek. “It’s normal. It’s your eighteenth birthday. I’m sure he wants to be here too. He’s probably looking down at you right now.”

Claire made no reply, but she was fighting back tears as hard as she could. She’d gotten so used to putting on a strong face; she’d forgotten that it was okay to be weak sometimes. Peter wanted her to feel like she could tell him anything, not bottle it all up for his sake. After all, that had been what caused his downfall.

Bringing her into a comforting hug, Peter whispered as much in her ear, and Claire totally let go. Everything she’d been through, every pillar she’d held up for Peter to lean on…it all came crumbling down as Claire’s body racked with sobs in Peter’s arms.

As her hero and her friend, Peter would do everything in his power to dry her tears.

*

The sun was creeping to the lower half of the horizon, as the day was just edging into evening. One of the most memorable days of Claire’s life was over halfway complete, and she felt like it only just began.

Unfortunately, a good hour of her enjoyment had a considerable loss of Peter. He’d been in the shower for a good hour and Claire was an inch away from barging in and seeing what was taking so long. Claire was not that bold, though, even if she and Peter were in an already-deep relationship. However, for the short while they’d been together, rather smutty thoughts had been frolicking through her mind. Oh, she’d had the occasional “I wonder if Peter’s a good kisser” thoughts before, but that was perfectly ordinary. He was an attractive man, and he’d saved her life. He also happened to be a naturally fantastic kisser.

But wondering every half hour about what it would feel like to have him take her virginity was not regular.

Or, at least by routine. Technically, she was supposed to feel a reckless desire for only him, but it was still odd to think of him in such a light. Their relationship was so much deeper then lust and contact, and even love.

It still didn’t outweigh the fact that Claire was absolutely certain she wanted him to be her first, though.

Sick of the music on her Ipod, Claire moseyed boredly around the apartment, waiting for him to get out of that stupid shower. The vanity in the bedroom tempted her as it did every young woman, and quite frankly, brushing her hair was the only amusing thing to do at the moment.

She gently combed her plastic bristle paddle brush through wavy blonde locks, staring at herself in the mirror. Green eyes, cheerful cheeks, and plump pink lips greeted her; that sad little smile that Peter always commented on exhibited clearly.

When her hair was nearly movie star perfect after several redundant strokes, she set it down on the vanity. Yet, in its place were two pieces of notebook paper.

“READ FIRST” instructed the one on top, in handwriting that she didn’t really recognize. Tentatively, as though the paper might bite her, Claire picked it up and read the note scribbled inside.

Claire-

See? It’s not impossible. Anything for me to see that real smile of yours again.

I hope you like it. Happy birthday.

Love, Peter

Claire wasn’t quite sure what he meant, but whatever was on the other piece of paper had to be significant. Frowning slightly in confusion, she picked up the other folded sheet, and a familiar handwriting now greeted her.

Dear Claire-Bear,

Claire almost choked on a sob, right then and there, but forced herself to continue.

Happy eighteenth birthday, sweetheart. I’m elated to be able to tell you that, after watching you grow from the little girl you were, to a beautiful, smart, young woman. You’ve been through so much more then you should have, but all it has really done in the end is show your incredible maturity.

I wish your mother and Lyle could be there with you, to celebrate, to help you on the path you have taken, but it’s not worth it. Always remember: never put the ones you love at risk. Your family. Friends. Peter, who, though I barely know him, have come to think of as a son. As you may or may not have suspected, I have been watching over you two lately. Peter really is a father’s dream. I guess you could say I’m giving you my blessing, in a way. I know you’re going to think that’s cheesy and old-fashioned, because I know you, but there’s nothing wrong with tradition.

If I could, I would save the world for you, and let you live on with your lives. All of you. Yet I cannot. It’s your responsibility now, Claire. There is no shame in your abilities, just danger. Which, in a way, proved me wrong. I was so afraid that you would be hurt by others that want what you have, but in reality, you need to use what you can do to stop people like that. You were not given these gifts to be hunted; you were granted them to be a protector.

I could never tell you how sorry I am about everything I did for the Company. I felt guilty every time your mother forgot something, or complained about a headache, and then bringing you into all this... just another reason why you have earned an incredible respect in my eyes for the past eighteen years.

Unfortunately, I’ve almost run out of time. I’ll go ahead and let Peter come back, but not before telling you that this isn’t the end. I promise you that we’ll meet again some day, whether in dreams, or through letters, or here in the afterlife.

I don’t think I’ve ever been prouder of you, and no matter what blood says, you will always be my daughter. My Claire-bear.

Love always,

Dad

Claire found herself sobbing again, just like earlier that day, but this time was not in despair. Tears of gratefulness and bliss cascaded down her cheeks, and she held the letter to her heart like it was a lifeline.

Peter finally emerged from the shower, fully dressed and dry, with only slightly damp, black hair to show that he’d been in the wash at all. The scent of his now regular cologne surfed the wave of humidity that burst from the tiny bathroom. Claire felt damp heat wash over her, and whipped her head around at him.

“You found it,” he acknowledged, a quirky, modest, smile on his lips. The next thing he knew, he was eating honey hair as Claire threw herself into his arms with enough force to knock him over.

“Thank you so much,” she breathed, still in teary happiness. What she thought was impossible, Peter had brought to life. It was so much more then his power. It was what he did with it. A long time had passed since Peter made someone feel so alive and full of joy. He hadn’t realized how much he missed it.

“You didn’t have to do this, you know,” Claire sniffed, regaining control and holding the side of his face in her hand.

Peter looked at her frankly. “I wanted to. I love you.”

Claire’s eyes widened at his confession, and for a second, Peter was fearful that he scared her. They were moving awfully fast, but there was no time to lose anymore. And besides, Peter was one hundred percent sure of his feelings, so why not tell her? Long gone were the frets that she was simply a phase, or that he had his own bout of hero-worship. No, Claire Bennet was the real thing, the most real thing that had ever entered his life, in fact. Peter loved her, was in love with her, and even if without healing, would die for her.

“I love you, too,” Claire replied in full honestly, leaning up to press a chaste kiss against his lips. It was a relief that he’d said it first, not that she had any shame in the way she felt about Peter. Just…Claire had never been in love before. She wanted to make sure that her emotions were genuine, and after the selfless, thoughtful gift he had just given her…

…there wasn’t a doubt in her mind that she loved Peter Petrelli with all of her heart.

Part II: Metamorphosis

Peter Petrelli and Claire Bennet

Peter’s Apartment, Lower East Side

“Peter, turn on the TV!”

“What, Nathan?”

“Dammit, Pete, just turn it on, will you?! Channel three. I’m about to give a press conference.”

“Press…wait…Nathan, you won?”

Click.

Still reeling from what his brother had implied, Peter followed Nathan’s instructions and turned on the TV he hardly ever used.

“What was that about?” Claire asked breezily, coming out of the bedroom with the hairbrush that finally got returned to her.

Peter was busy peering at the television, hand idly rubbing the light stubble across his cheek. It took him a few seconds to reply.

“Oh! Uh, Nathan. He’s giving a press conference. Guess that means he won. The losers get conferences too, but it’s not like he’d want me to watch it if that was the case.”

Claire plopped down next to him on the couch, curling her legs underneath her. Right after Peter made his statement, Nathan began walking up onto the stage, all his sponsors and immediate relatives behind him. Peter even spotted Marty, Nathan’s personal assistant, standing by Angela Petrelli.

“You should be up there,” Claire recognized guiltily. He should have been at that press conference, supporting his family, his brother, rather then devoting all his time to her and her stupid birthday.

“No,” Peter disagreed emotionlessly, shaking his head. “Nathan tried so hard to push me out of the way so that he could win this thing. I have no reason to be there.”

“Good evening, New York!” Nathan announced in a strange mix of both pride and modesty. “Thank you all very much for the incredible support throughout the past few months.”

Applause. Cheers. Cameras. Flashes. Everyone so ignorant of this beginning of the end. Not a single person had any clue out the pending apocalypse, and Peter felt a nasty knot tie in his stomach.

Nathan was still going on with his greetings, and 'thank yous', and what not, when someone emerged from the back of the large group ensambled onstage. Peter almost rubbed his eyes in disbelief.

Mohinder Suresh was politely making his way to the podium to stand by Nathan. The freshman congressman had summoned Suresh once Act I of his speech had been completed. Once the Indian man was in his place, Nathan turned back to the microphone.

“I’d like to introduce a geneticist and friend of mine, Doctor Mohinder Suresh.”

Peter smirked slightly at the unamused expression that washed over Mohinder’s face at the word ‘friend’. His brother and the scientist were more partners in crime then bar buddies. Anything for the cameras, though.

Nathan continued. “I’ve brought him up here to help me explain about a very important situation that’s recently been striking our country. I thought that…I should use this time wisely, to inform you all.”

Claire and Peter gaped at each other. “No way,” the girl said.

“Shh,” Peter said, holding a finger in the air as Nathan held onto their attention flawlessly.

“There’s been a…so-called ‘leap forward’ in evolution. Normal people, no different or less ordinary than you or me…have been manifesting certain abilities. Some are mundane, but others are completely beyond the realm of possibility. Invisibility, healing, mind reading. It’s something out of a comic book, but I vow that it’s starting to come to life.”

Murmurs of shock went through the audience, while Peter sat stock still, shaking his head in incredulity.

“I’m not telling you this to scare you, or to worry you. These citizens didn’t ask for this to happen to them, and they still remain to be our equals. Instead of fearing them, we should help them, if they so desire. Which leads me to what I want really inform you about.

“My brother, Peter, has one of these abilities. As he discovered it, I masked his findings by saying he was mentally ill. I’d like to apologize to everyone for lying about this, but mostly…I’d like to apologize to Peter.”

Peter felt his chest tighten. The words that were coming through the speakers and the man that was saying them were so mismatched, it made his head spin. But in the end, this was what Nathan cared about deep down. Nathan’s only real loves were his family and the city, which could both be obliterated within the next day.

“Peter’s particular ability is rather extraordinary, and usually harmless. But because of its power, something…devastating may or may not happen to New York City tomorrow. Now, Peter’s trying his best to get it under control, and I trust him. However, there still is a possibility of disaster. So I encourage everyone to pack up and leave tonight. We must evacuate New York for its own safety. Take pets, pictures, anything you can’t live without, and get as far away as you can.

Fearful cries burst through the audience, and rustles of the press trying to get out could be witnessed. Nathan outstretched his hands, and pushed them down, though, encouraging everyone to stay in their seats.

“Events like this could happen again. They’re unintentional, but the danger is still there. That’s where Doctor Suresh has come in.”

Suresh stepped up to the microphone. “Yes. I’ve discovered a ‘cure’, if you will, for these manifestations. The cure will remain totally optional, for the public, of course, but it is mostly intended as a worst-case scenario resort. It’s too late for Peter, but if anyone has thinks they could be dangerous, we urge you to come see me, right away. We only want to help you.”

“Is this good or bad?” Claire asked quietly.

“I…I dunno,” Peter replied, clueless. “Their intentions are good, but…I don’t know how the public is going to react.”

“What if they become afraid of us?” she shot out fearfully. “What if they lock us up and do tests on us like lab rats? Force us to take the cure?”

Peter put a gentle hand on her arm. “I doubt Nathan’s gonna let that happen,” he responded with certainty.

“Let me remind you that not all these powers are bad. But my sister Shanti developed a fatal disease because of her mutation, and passed away at a young age. Shanti’s condition was extremely rare, so that’s not the biggest risk, but imagine having an ability to turn everything you touch into gold. Or having abnormally large muscles and being eight feet tall. Problems can be taken care of, while those who are happy can live on in peace. So far, I only have one dose in existence, which already has a receiver, but our congressman has promised me funding to produce them as needed.”

“Good man,” nodded Peter, when Mohinder told the crowd that the cure already was reserved. “He remembered the deal I made with him.”

Off Claire’s confused glance, he elaborated.

“Niki. I told Mohinder to make a cure for her, so that she wouldn’t have to deal with Jessica killing people anymore.”

Nathan stepped back up to the podium. “We will now take any questions you may have, but please keep it terse. As I stated before, we need to give people time to evacuate.”

Individualism was washed out in a sea of murmurs on the TV screen, and Peter slumped back onto the couch.

He wondered if he could finally fly, now.

xoxoxoxoxo

Claire walked up to the giant atrium window in Peter’s bedroom, and opened the blinds. New York winked at her from the other side of the glass, millions of lights scattered like a galaxy.

“I never got a chance to see how gorgeous this view was,” she thought aloud, pressing a palm against the window. It was a bittersweet sight. All the beauty in front of her that might not last another 24 hours.

“Beautiful,” agreed Peter from behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his face into her neck. Claire quietly sighed, resting her head back on his shoulder as he pressed kisses in her collar.

She turned around in his arms and kissed him keenly. Peter responded with just as much fervor, biting her lip a little when she slipped her nimble hand under the back of his shirt.

But a barely-there grind of her hips against his, and Peter was pulling away as respectfully as he could. He was already more aroused then he probably should have been in the first place, so the finishing line had to be here. Taking advantage of Claire was the last thing that Peter wanted to do.

The blonde’s blush went all the way to the roots of her hair, but she still found the strength to argue about this with him. “We could die tomorrow, Peter! You’ve been saying it all day! And I’m eighteen now, it’s okay.”

And…I want my first-time to be with you...

Peter looked at her understandingly, and she knew he had read her mind. If possible, she turned even redder.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she said irritably, looking anywhere but him. Peter frowned.

“Like what?”

“Like you feel sorry for me.”

Peter sighed, delicately turning her face to meet his. “I don’t feel sorry for you. You’re only eighteen. You’re not supposed to have a background in this.”

Claire didn’t think much of his pick-me-up.

Do you even want me?

She hated being this insecure. Claire had grown to be quite sure of herself lately, and she could tell Peter anything. This one particular subject was something they hadn’t branched into yet, and it was a little unsettling. Mainly, their conversations were kept in an area that didn’t really show their age difference. This, however, seemed to practically advertise it.

“Of course I want you,” Peter told her honestly. Part of him wanted to chuckle, to show her that this really wasn’t a big deal. But then Claire would think he didn’t understand her concerns, which was definitely not good.

“I want you more then anything. I just make sure that…” Peter paused, looking at her seriously. “Are you positive that you really want this?”

Claire nodded and Peter didn’t press her again. Knowing Claire, she’d only get annoyed at his overprotectiveness.

“If, uh…if it makes you feel any better,” he added, turning slightly pink himself. “I’ve only done this once, myself.”

“Once? But you’re twenty-six, I thought-,”

But once she considered it, this actually wasn’t that surprising. Peter was the sensitive, nice guy, and though he was handsome now, Claire could see him as the type that grew into his looks. And the nice, average looking guys weren’t exactly known for getting laid all the time. Plus, before his abilities manifested, Peter was dreadfully timid and lax in self-assurance. He could barely even ask out a girl, let alone take her to bed. Simone had been the first woman that he ever really went after. In fact, he was already beating his own record between the first “I love you” and the first night together. He and Simone had about an hour’s space between these two major events, and there wasn’t even any apocalypse coming. That had been what most people called rushed. This was a different situation though…and at least he’d told Claire he loved her a few hours ago.

“Yeah…” Peter said awkwardly, rubbing his neck. “So if this ends up being…awful…it’s my fault.”

Claire giggled, leaning up to kiss him tenderly. “It could never be bad with you.”

Her ego-stroking was definitely a trigger. Peter drew invisible lines up and down her jaw, teasing her lips with his tongue. Claire gasped against his mouth, only wanting to take him deeper, and mold him into her very being. 

Peter gently laid her down on the bed, bruising her lips with their never-ending kiss. He eventually fell back, still able to taste her Skittles chapstick on his mouth, and began undressing. Claire removed her own shirt and jeans, leaning back on the pillow when she was down to her plain undergarments.

When she got her first eyeful of Peter completely unclothed, she knew there was no way she could resist from there. He had a shyly perfect form, precision that even surprised Claire herself. Peter bent over her, the glow of the city reflected in his shining pupils. His loving eyes wanted nothing but the best for her, and Claire blushed self-consciously in the dim illumination.

Peter’s hands cascaded down her chest, unclasped her bra, and almost innocently brushed across her bare breasts along the way. Never had she been touched like this, or even been gazed at in the way that Peter was staring down at her now. The fire in his irises turned from chocolate to burgundy as his fingertips reached the lace settled on her hips.

“Claire…” he whispered cautiously, already breathless. The lights of New York shone on his handsome features and Claire could read the unspoken question etched across his face. Are you sure?

“I love you,” she answered, confidence radiating from every pore in her body. Peter took her sureness and pure need seriously, nodding.

“I love you,” he replied, bending down to kiss her warmly while he gently slid the cotton barrier, the only thing keeping him from having her, down her legs.

Claire’s knees hugged Peter’s hips instinctively as the cool night air hit her center. It spiked her raw desire for his warmth even more.

Arching her hips up, moaning, she wrapped her legs around Peter’s firm torso. Peter was taking his sweet time though, gently stroking back Claire’s honey locks and admiring her subtly gorgeous features. His guardian angel was lying below him, an unblemished virgin that stayed by his side in the worst of times. She guided him back to the light, given him all her love and friendship. Peter felt it was his utmost responsibility to worship her body as though she was made of feathers and stardust tonight. Claire was really, truthfully, a seraph, and he would do anything not to taint her sanctity.

So Peter did not simply sleep with the vibrant young virgin aching for his touch; he made love to her, exalting her body, mind, and soul with every movement. Claire sighed and moaned, running her fingers down Peter’s smooth back. The lazily slow heat that trailed with her fingertips made Peter shiver in satisfaction.

Soon, Claire’s scorching breath was heaving against the crook of his neck and Peter saw that as an unfortunate sign that this would be over soon. Claire didn’t know anything about how restrain her body, so her first summit came uncontrolled and sudden. She gasped and the expression of swift bliss on her face melted Peter to the core. He peacefully finished himself; not making a big show, for this was her night, not his.

Careful to distribute his weight, Peter softly collapsed onto her, burying his face by Claire’s ear. Gentle nails stroked through his sleek locks and Claire’s other hand rubbed his back soothingly. He inhaled the vanilla scent off the nape of her neck, and kissed behind her ear reverently before rolling over. Immediately turning on her side, Claire nuzzled against him.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” she murmured against his chest, which was now rising as quickly as it was falling with breathlessness.

“So it didn’t suck, I take it?” he asked hopefully.

Claire tittered. “No, it didn’t suck. I guess you’re just a natural.”

Peter beamed down at her, turning on his side and pulling her as close as possible. His arms were now a ring around her waist, and his chin on her shoulder. Claire smiled back, and then bent an arm to caress his hair affectionately.

But her smile could not mask the hopeless expression on her face. Peter immediately pulled away and sat up, cupping her face in both hands.

“Claire, what’s wrong? Are you hurt? Did I-,”

“No,” Claire assured him, letting out a small laugh. “No, you’re amazing. It’s just…tomorrow.”

“Shh, tomorrow will be fine,” Peter promised, pulling her into a gentle embrace. “Don’t worry; I’ll keep you safe. Sylar is not going to kill you, understand?”

Claire pressed her forehead to his. “It’s not me I’m worried about,” she whispered, gripping him tightly as if he would vanish into thin air. “What if you die, Peter? We’ve known that risk all along, but now it’s really sunk in. You could actually die. And then I’d be alone, and-,”

“I’m not leaving,” Peter rubbed her shoulders caringly. “When we save you from Sylar, there’s no risk that I can explode anymore. And now that we’ve figured out how to kill him, it won’t take much for Hiro to stop time and do it. We’re gonna be okay.” He kissed her confidently, and her nerves seemed to be soothed for the time being.

“I love you,” Claire whispered, nestling up to him once more.

Peter closed his eyes. “I love you too, Claire.”

There could be no better last words for the last night on Earth.

xoxoxoxoxo

Ignorance was bliss in the mid-morning, when Peter stirred awake. Claire’s petite, naked body pressed against his own bare skin, both of them warmed and covered by green sheets. There was only one time before in his life that he’d woken up to find an unclothed woman in his bed, but Simone had slept through the night on the opposite side of the mattress, her back to him. Claire, on the other hand, had every square inch of skin possible touching him, her arm slung across his narrow waist like a human belt. Any lower and her hand would be hitting much more interesting territory.

He smirked slightly, caressing the curves of her side with one little fingertip. She shuddered against his touch, also coming into consciousness. When she realized what was happening to her she tutted and swatted the tickling hand away.

“Good morning, love,” Peter grinned and Claire rolled her eyes good-naturedly at his bad British accent.

“Please, I really don’t want to think of Claude. He’s a total mood breaker.”

“Yeah, your own father could be watching us right now, couldn’t he?” Peter acknowledged, straight-faced.

“ACK! Don’t even joke about that!!” she shrieked, slapping him on the arm as Peter chuckled merrily. He silenced her with a kiss, amazed that she still tasted luscious, even in the morning.

“C’mon,” he groaned, pushing himself over to the side of the bed. “Get dressed. We have to go save the world, remember?”

“Great,” Claire said flatly. “And I thought Claude was a killjoy.”

xoxoxoxoxo

Fifteen minutes later, they were full of Eggos that had been wolfed down as fast as possible, and Claire was fully dressed. She emerged from the bathroom, her hair in a simple ponytail to hide the light greasiness in it. Had they been given more time, they would have showered, but Peter wanted every second possible.

Peter was already ready from the waist up, an undershirt, and blue dress shirt on, but he was still in the process of pulling black jeans up his legs. Claire felt the tension and the haste in the air, as Peter grabbed a pair of Converse from his closet and started tying them on. He usually chose heavy, leather, boots, but those always took forever.

The doorbell rang, and Peter and Claire frowned at each other.

“It’s me!” hollered a muffled voice from outside the door. But whoever ‘me’ was still unrecognizable.

“I’ll go answer it,” Claire announced, letting Peter finish putting on his sneakers. She looked through the peephole, and a heavyset, loveable looking brunette man was idly standing in front of 1407.

Without hesitation, Claire pulled the door open, inviting Matt Parkman inside.

“What’s up?” Claire asked. “I thought we were all meeting at Isaac’s.”

“Oh,” Matt replied, shrugging. “I’m just rounding everybody up, you know.”

Claire looked over at Peter, expecting him to have done getting ready by now. However, the young man still sat on the end of his bed, one shoe with untied laces, and a harshly thoughtful expression on his face.

As soon as Claire had opened up the door, Peter’s ‘spider senses’ so to speak, went off like a Geiger counter in Hiroshima. It was a rush of power, familiar power that came waltzing into the apartment, like whenever any mutant came in contact with him. Peter had gotten used to the ability by now, and could spot who was who from his mental radar. Claire was a bright red. Matt was a dim green.

Peter knew something was wrong when he saw Matt was bright grey.

Parkman smiled down at Claire, and then looked across, into the bedroom.

“Mornin’, Peter,” he grinned, winking, because he knew his secret had been exposed. And he also knew that it didn’t really matter, because he was here, in the apartment, two of the most ultimate prizes within a fifteen foot radius of him. Peter stared back into the eyes of Sylar, and knew that all his plans failed in that one moment, before they even had a chance.

Sylar was going to kill Claire Bennet and Peter Petrelli, and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

xoxoxoxoxo