Title: Come What May
Rating: PG
Genre: Friendship/Hurt/Comfort
Chaarcters/Pairings: Peter/Claire
Word count: 820
Warnings: It's season one, absolutely nothing. :D
Summary: Claire hated seeing the man she considered her hero feeling so weak.
Notes: Takes place in season one, sometime between the time Peter and Nathan are talking in Nathan's office ("What do you do with something that killed you?") and when Peter confronts Claire about not going to Paris. Mostly friendship, but you know... it's Paire friendship. ;) Written for the pairechallenge community on LJ.
"You might still have some real family out there--maybe an aunt, or a... rich, eccentric uncle."
Zach had laughed when he had said that, but looking back Claire couldn't believe how close he had come to the truth. She drummed her fingers on the windowledge, staring out past the yard of the Petrelli residence and to the surrounding streets. She knew Nathan and Peter were talking to each other only one flight down and two rooms away; her nerves were coiled tight and ready to spring at any moment. She liked to imagine she could hear their feet shuffling as they paced, the lilt in Peter's voice as he tried desperately to convince Nathan of something (because, truth be told, she still didn't fully understand what was going on).
A soft knocking on the (her?) door brought Claire out of her thoughts and she started slightly, glancing over to the open doorway. Peter stood there, his bangs hanging in front of his face in a way that shielded his eyes and Claire couldn't help but wonder if he had done that on purpose.
"Hey," she whispered to him. He nodded his head at her, taking that as a cue to come in.
"Hey," he responded as he sat gingerly on the edge of her bed. Claire swallowed as he motioned her over and she quickly moved from the window to sit next to him. She watched him carefully, looking for any kind of opening, and as soon as he shifted towards her she leapt.
"Peter, what's going on? Last time I saw you you were in a jail cell--and--and now you're my uncle and you died and you're back--" she paused for only a second before repeating, "and you're my uncle."
"Yeah, I know," Peter sighed lightly, running a hand through his bangs in a futile attempt to move them out of his eyes. "I'm still trying to process that one, too."
"How," Claire whispered lightly, "is this even possible?"
"Destiny," Peter threw out instantly before his gaze turned intensely towards to meet hers, and his voice fell to a whisper, "Claire, I'm going to explode." Claire opened her mouth to speak, but he shook his head furiously to let him continue. "Like a nuclear bomb. Somehow. I don't know why, I don't know how, but I know that I am. Right here in New York, on November 8th."
"That's only--"
"Yeah, I know," Peter heaved a shaky sigh, covering his face with a hand and groaning to himself. "I've been having dreams--ever since the night you visited me in the jail cell. As soon as I got out. I fell in a coma and it kept repeating, and you were always there, and now you're here, and that has to be important. It just has to be." Peter leaned forward, attempting to calm himself down with a few slow breaths. "This is so messed up. I can't--we can't let this happen, Claire. We just can't."
Claire watched Peter carefully. This man seemed so different from the man who had saved her at homecoming. The man then had seemed so sure of himself, so confident that what he was doing was the right thing and, come what may, he was going to do his best to make sure the right outcome occurred.
And now--now he seemed scared, lost. He was a small person, looking up at the world rather than meeting it eye-to-eye. He was terrified that it was going to be him that was the villain that had to be stopped this time, terrified that there would be no Peter Petrelli of his own to tackle him off the building when the time came.
But he was still her hero, the man who wanted to do what was right for the world and would sacrifice himself to make sure it happened, and she didn't want to see him hurting.
"It's not going to happen," Claire assured him softly, "I don't know what I'm supposed to do, but... I'll do anything, okay? Just tell me what to do." She nudged him lightly and Peter glanced up at her from beneath his hair. "Okay?"
Peter couldn't help but crack his lopsided smile at her as he nudged her back, nodding subtly but enough that Claire could make it out. She smiled, reaching out on impulse to grasp his hand in hers. Peter grinned tiredly as he squeezed Claire's hand gently before letting himself settle backwards onto the bed.
He was out in an instant, the exhaustion from the day's events finally catching up with him, and for the first time since the dreams had started he didn't dream about the demise of New York, and when he woke up to an empty darkened room a few hours later Peter couldn't help but think that, just maybe, this unhappy ending wouldn't occur after all.