Fight And Flight

(Part Two of the 'Patchwork Family' Series)

I strongly recomment reading Part One, The Early Years, first or else you won't understand much of this.

Summary for Part Two: Nathan is about to let go of the past when fate steps in and throws the man that kidnapped his daughter 7 years ago right into his path. Bennet's life is once again turned upside-down. Will Claire's two Dads get along? There may be some issues, obviously.

Chapter One

Manhattan, August 1999

Nathan Petrelli rapped his knuckles on the wooden door with the number "1407" on it and threw one last look at the small basket balanced on his left arm. He felt a bit stupid, standing there in the hallway with bread, salt and a bottle of wine all stuffed into a cheesy Moses-basket, but… that's what you were supposed to bring as a housewarming gift, wasn't it?

The door in front of him opened and Peter's smiling face appeared behind. "Nathan! Come on in!"

"Hey Pete," Nathan greeted his brother with a big smile. "Ugh, here, for your new home." He held out the basket for Peter to take and stepped over the threshold.

"Thanks," Peter smiled and eyed the gift dubiously.

"You don't have to say it, Pete, I know it's kind of cliché…"

"No, it's great!" Peter assured quickly. "I was looking at the bottle's label. Is this the same sort that we stole from dad's wine cellar the night you got me thoroughly drunk for the first time?"

"You mean after graduation? Sure," Nathan smirked. "I'm nothing if not traditional, right?"

"If that's a family tradition then I'll gladly follow through with it. Celebrating each new period of my life by getting drunk with my big brother."

Peter motioned for Nathan to follow him into the kitchen and placed the basket onto the counter. Then he started rummaging through several drawers and Nathan had time to fully take in his surroundings.

He'd never quite understood why Peter had refused to live in a dorm on campus like every other nineteen-year-old student but instead had scraped up every single one of his self-earned pennies to rent a place on his own. But… to each his own, right?

Nathan let his eyes wander over the place. He'd never picture something like this for himself but… it suited Peter. The apartment was small but clean and very homey. He had to admit that Peter had done a great job decorating the place with a mixture of nice furniture, practical things and personal objects alike.

And Nathan could clearly single out the parts and places Peter had put the most care in to make himself feel at home. Many personal pictures decorated the board that ran along both sides of a cozy fireplace, mostly pictures of the two of them taken over the years. Some showed them framed together and in others Nathan or Peter smiled separately into the camera. Nathan also noticed that, while their mother was captured in several frames as well, there was only one picture that had their father in it. He thought briefly of commenting on that but then simply shrugged it off.

Peter had good reasons for it after all. Arthur Petrelli had never made a secret of the fact that what he felt for his younger son was mostly disappointment. Nathan had always been the one he'd been proud of, whether he'd deserved that or not.

But, much to Nathan's amazement, Peter had never held their father's unjust preference of his eldest son against him, quite the contrary. Peter's support, acceptance and love had always been unconditional, and for that Nathan had to be more than grateful. He knew that he hadn't always deserved it, since he'd not rarely lashed out in his frustration to the one person that had tried to help him deal with everything.

"There you are!" Peter's triumphant voice pulled Nathan back to the present and he turned around to see Peter waving a corkscrew around in victory.

"Well then, let the celebrations begin," Nathan proclaimed with a grin and picked up the two glasses that conveniently stood in reach. "You're not expecting anybody else?" he asked as an afterthought.

Peter shook his head and long bangs of dark hair fell into his mature face. He unconsciously stroked them back behind his right ear, a gesture so familiar to Nathan that it didn't register on his mind anymore.

"No, I told the others the party would be tomorrow. This very first night in my own apartment is for you and me alone," the younger man grinned.

"How romantic," Nathan commented dryly and walked over to the plush couch that dominated the living area. He plopped down into it and added: "Too bad I'm spoken for already!"

Peter turned around in a flash and gasped: "You're what?"

"I've decided to propose to Heidi," Nathan admitted quietly. "Next weekend."

"Seriously?" Peter sat down beside his brother and stared at him with wide eyes. "Why?"

"What do you mean, why?" Nathan stood up and started pacing. His right hand rubbed along the back of his neck in a display of agitation Peter had come to regard as very familiar. Eventually Nathan spoke again: "I've been going out with her for months now and, Peter, let's face it, I'm not getting any younger."

Peter let out a quick snort.

"Pete, I'm turning thirty soon and," he shrugged helplessly, "I think it's time to settle down and start a new life, you know… finally letting go of the past, building a family of my own… what's so wrong with that?" Nathan stared at his little brother with a desperate look from dark eyes that seemed to silently beg for understanding and encouragement.

"Do you love her?" Peter asked eventually. When Nathan didn't answer right away Peter went on: "I mean, don't get me wrong, Nathan, I like her, but… do you really want to commit yourself to her for the rest of your life?"

Nathan looked up with a cool glint in his eyes. "Pete, I have at least a dozen colleagues specialized in divorce-rights, so…"

"Now that's just typical of you!" Peter jumped up from the couch as well. "You're not even married yet and talking about divorce already!"

"I didn't mean it like that, Pete, and you know it. But you with your idealistic view of the world, of course you'd see a marriage as a guarantee for a happily-ever-after. Wake up, Pete! The world doesn't work like that. You have to stop seeing everything through rose-colored-glasses and finally start to accept things the way they are. I don't know if I will be happily married for the rest of my life, but that's not the point. The point is that my life… Pete, I feel like I've been going through the motions my entire life! I did what was expected of me by my family, well, by dad mostly…"

"Yeah, right!" Peter snorted. "Like you didn't do it for your own profit! I mean, come on, Nathan! You like that you're all successful and important, the good son, remember?"

Nathan looked at Peter through hooded eyes, his long dark lashes nearly covering the hazel glint. "Maybe," he admitted then. "But… I don't know, Pete. The job, the image… that's one thing. What about the rest?"

Peter only stared at Nathan in silence. It wasn't often that his big brother admitted this, admitted that he was more than the stuffed law-suit everybody else saw. Peter knew of course, he knew Nathan like nobody else.

When Peter didn't say anything Nathan went on: "I feel like there's something… a part of me, missing. Or, that I'm missing out on something, I don't know."

"Claire."

The one word was enough to make Nathan's eyes glimmer nearly gold. "Don't start again, Pete. I'm not talking about… that."

"No?" Peter shot back. "Well then what are you talking about? Missing something in your life… Nathan, she was taken from you seven years ago and you don't even know if she's still alive and…"

"Peter,"

"No, Nathan! Don't 'Peter' me! You can fool everybody else with your stuck-up-I-don't-care-about-anybody-else-attitude. But you don't fool me, Nathan! I'm your brother and I know you. I know that you care about what happened and…"

"And what good did it do me?" Nathan's face was only inches away and Peter could see the emotions flicker through his eyes like flashes of light. "I held on to the only spark of hope I had for seven years. That she survived the fire and is out there somewhere! I tried everything to find out the truth about Claire and for what? I'm no closer to finding her now than I was when that fucking son of a bitch threatened to shoot your head off! And it has to stop, Pete! I can't go on like that. I will never find her and I'm tired of holding on all this time! I'm tired, Peter! I have to finally start moving on. Can't you understand?" Nathan stopped his tirade and took a shaky intake of breath. Then he sat down again and buried his face in his hands, elbows resting on his knees.

Peter studied his brother for a long time before he walked up to him and placed a tentative hand on his shoulder. Nathan's head went up. "Don't you understand?" he repeated quietly.

"I'm sorry, Nathan," was all Peter had to say. He pulled his big brother close and placed a tender kiss onto his hair. "I'm sorry."

Then he went and quickly filled their glasses with red wine. He handed one to Nathan and lifted his own up for a toast. "To the new periods of our lives, whether they begin with committing ourselves to new places…" he waved his glass around to encompass their surroundings, "…or new people. May it result in happiness for the both of us, together forever."

"Hear hear," Nathan smiled and lifted the wineglass to his lips.

How were they to know then that Peter's words would come true soon enough, and in about every sense of the word. Just not in any way they'd ever suspect it.

Prescott, Arizona, August 1999

The phone rang three times before it was picked up and a breathless child's voice answered. "Hello?"

"Happy birthday, Claire-Bear!"

"Uncle Claude!" Claire cried in joy, "Hi! Where are… I mean…thanks!"

Claude had to smile at the young girl's display of perfect manners. Bennet had taught her well in the last seven years, that much was clear. "You're welcome, pumpkin! So…" Claude paused dramatically, "How is my favorite girl, hm? All grown-up and lady-like?"

The girl's bubbling laughter was like music in his ears. "No, not yet. I'm only nine today, not ninety!"

"You'd better not," Claude gave back amused. "Cause that would make me a real old chap!"

"You're not old, Uncle Claude, just…" Claire searched for the right words and relented then: "Well, only a little bit. Like Daddy."

"Thanks a lot, you! But, speaking of," Claude turned serious again, "where is that old Dad of yours?"

"He had to drive Mrs. Steiner to, ugh… I don't remember where," Claire explained, "but he has to be back at three because I'm having a big birthday party then. Tammy and Jonah are already here and later Lilly, Melissa, Cassy, Simon and Chris from school are coming and also Vicky and Emma-Jane from flute-class…"

"Sounds like a big party alright, pumpkin!" Claude grinned at the little girl's enthusiasm. "Save me a piece of cake, will you?"

"You're not coming?" Claire's voice faltered immediately.

"I'm sorry, princess, but…"

"But you promised," Claire pouted. "You said when you couldn't come on 4th of July that we'd have fireworks for my birthday! You promised!"

"I know, Claire-Bear, and I'm sorry, but… you know how bloody complicated it is."

"No, I don't!" Claire moped. "You never tell me anything! Why is everything always so complicated?"

Claude remained silent. He hated to do this to her. He hated that he'd had to make excuses so many times, all the lies and half-truths he'd been forced to tell her over the years. God only knew how Noah had to feel in all this, lying to his daughter and keeping things from her constantly.

But it had been absolutely necessary or else none of them would have lived this long. Not Bennet, being on the run with Claire for seven years straight, and not himself under close surveillance by the company he still pretended to work for while spying and secretly working to bring that place down. Claude knew that by helping Noah escape and keeping his whereabouts secret he'd chosen to walk a pretty fine and dangerous line.

All those years that he'd now lived in ever-present fear of being found out by his so-called superiors. He was dancing on knife's edge and he had felt it become smaller with every year that had passed. The company was watching his every move, never trusting him completely… and how could they really?

It had been pretty obvious to everyone in the company that, during the 18 months his partnership with Bennet had lasted, they'd formed a bond far beyond a mere business affiliation. They'd become close friends and the entire company had known it. And although nobody had ever been able to dig up any prove, it seemed they all suspected he'd also played a part in killing Thompson all those years ago. They were all waiting for him to make a wrong move, to give information away by mistake.

It had been a close call several times already, and Claude had asked himself many times whether it was truly worth it. What kept him from turning his back on everything? He was the bloody Invisible-Man, he could become undetectable and make a run for it. Nobody would be able to find him ever again! What kept him in this world?

"Uncle Claude? Are you still there?"

And there Claude had his answer, plain and simple. Claire, his little princess, who'd lost the mother not only one but two times already in her young life. Both mothers, biological and surrogate, she'd never had the chance to truly know or even remember. Claude couldn't have let her go through yet another loss.

Just like he hadn't been able to leave his friend Noah, full of misery and grief after Sandra's murder, to take care of a baby (and himself).

"Uncle Claude?" Clair's impatient and slightly worried voice finally pierced through Claude's thoughts.

"Sorry, pumpkin, I spaced out. You were saying?"

He heard Claire take a quick intake of breath before she complained: "You always say everything's too complicated for me to understand, you and Daddy both say that, you know?"

"I'm sorry, princess," Claude felt like a broken record, repeating those words to no end. "When you're old enough your Dad and I will explain, but…"

"Great, that's another thing you both always say. 'When you're old enough…'." Claire tried to mimic her dad's voice when she went on: "When you're older I'll tell you about your mom. And about Texas. And about why Claude can't visit us as much as we'd like and why he can't live with us all the time. And I'll finally explain to you what's with that old blue-striped pajama-top in my closet or why I can't stand the sight of 'Chocolate-Crunch-Ice-Cream' at all." Claire fell back into her own voice again. "Uncle Claude, isn't nine old enough to understand at least some of these things?"

Claude let out a sigh. It wasn't his decision to define the right time for finally explaining things to this smart girl, but if it had been up to him he would have started trusting her a bit more by revealing certain facts about their lives. She was one of the cleverest girls in her class after all, and the truth about Noah being 'only' her surrogate Daddy she'd stomached well enough.

But he knew it wasn't for him to decide and Claude said so eventually. "Your Dad will have the last word on this one and you know it, young lady!"

Claire harrumphed in frustration and Claude quickly tried to steer the conversation back into more shallow waters. "So, tell me, princess. What did you get for your birthday? The pony you always wanted and kept nagging me about every time we spoke?"

"No!" Claire's pout sounded no less strong than before.

"What then?" Claude prompted.

"Dad got me a dog, finally. He said that I should probably start taking care of something a little smaller than a pony." The small girl's mood lightened up considerably with every word she said. "Something that wouldn't need a stable and paddock but could sleep in our home and make itself useful by biting thieves' legs."

"Bloody useful, I'd say!" Claude laughed. He could clearly imagine Noah's face stating that.

"His name is Charlie, though he doesn't seem to get that yet. He's still a baby, you know? Lyla gave birth to him and seven brothers and sisters only a few weeks ago and Mr. Steiner said that Charlie needs to stay with his mommy just a little bit longer and then I can take him home," Claire finished her explanations proudly.

"Ah, so he's one of Lyla's then," Claude nodded. He'd been confronted with the dog of Bennet's current employer and landlord several times and one time it had been a bit too close for his liking. The bitch had come chasing after him all along the driveway before someone, probably Mr. Steiner himself, had called her off just in time. Claude had stumbled into the safety of Bennet's cozy home on wobbly legs and completely out of breath and both Noah and Claire had been laughing at him for weeks.

Since then Claude had been more than careful whenever he'd come for a visit and had pulled his trick and stayed invisible until his hands had clasped the doorknob.

'The doorknob to Safety' he'd often called it in his head, and not just because of the bloody dog.

No, the house that the Steiner's had provided for their right-hand-man, Noah Bennet, and his daughter had become the most safest place in the world for Claude. For nearly five years now, ever since Bennet had begun to work and live (and hide) on the Steiner's spacious grounds, Claude had felt truly at home only there. His small flat in Odessa, Texas had no meaning to him at all and neither had any other place the company would send him to.

Claude's true home was with Noah and Claire, a house in Prescott, Arizona. And sadly enough, at the same time that was the one place in the world he dared to visit only a few days per year. His last visit had been so bloody long ago already, he realized with a sudden pang of guilt, that he would have no idea what his Claire-Bear looked like now if Noah wouldn't sent pictures regularly. It had been two years exactly, the day of her seventh birthday, that he'd last seen her for real. Bloody hell, life was bloody cruel sometimes, wasn't it?

A loud crash suddenly vibrated through the phone line and for a second Claude's heart stopped dead, sure that something bad had happened to Claire. Then he heard her voice, shocked but unharmed.

"Oh damn, dad's gonna be so mad at me!"

"What happened, Claire?" Claude asked quickly.

"Oh nothing, Jonah here just smashed the vase Mrs. Steiner gave dad for his last birthday and now he and Tammy are arguing about who did it and who's to clean up the mess," Claire explained hastily. Claude could hear different voices shouting in the background. Claire tried to shush them but, apparently, had not much luck. She turned to Claude again, apologetic: "Sorry, but I gotta go, Uncle Claude, before they trash something else."

"Sure thing, princess," Claude smiled, "go and tear their heads off, will you?"

"Yep, I will, you can count on that. Daddy liked that vase, though I really don't know why, it was ugly. Ugh, okay. We'll talk again later, promise?"

"Promise!" Claude replied and meant it. He would call again later tonight, he needed to talk to Noah anyway. When Claire was just about to hang up Claude threw in quickly: "Oh, and Claire?"

"Yeah?"

"I promise that I'll talk to your dad about trusting you a bit more with things, okay?"

Claire hesitated slightly. "Do you mean things like broken vases on wild birthday parties, or…"

"Or," Claude simply answered.

"Thanks," Claire beamed. "You're the best uncle I have, and I'm not just saying that because you're my only one!"

"Yeah, right you are," Claude laughed. "Bye, princess! We'll talk soon."

"Bye!"

Noah Bennet steered the Steiner's black limousine along the driveway, past extensive grounds full of green lawn framed by giant oak trees and also past his own small but comfortable house, until he reached the impressive mansion his employers owned.

He stepped out and quickly opened the back door for Elisabeth Steiner to get out.

"Thanks, Bennet," the elegant woman in her early-sixties nodded and preceded him to the limousine's backside. But when Bennet moved to open the trunk she halted his arm and shook her head. "Oh, come on, never mind, I can get the bags myself. You should rush home, dear, I'm sure Claire's already waiting for you so that her big party can eventually start."

"You sure? I could…"

"No, no, dear. Go on, I can take care of it."

"Alright, Mrs. Steiner, thank you." Bennet smiled down into her gentle face, the beauty of which belied the woman's slightly advanced years. She looked far closer to fifty than sixty.

"Now, Bennet," Mrs. Steiner's voice turned reproachful. "How many times in the last five years have I asked you to call me Lizzy already?"

"I don't know, Mrs. Steiner," Bennet smirked. "Four or five hundred times?"

"And how many times must I yet repeat myself until you'll finally follow through with it?" The wicked gleam in her green eyes took the sting out of that reproach.

"You'll never know, Mrs. Steiner." Bennet teased her as he'd done so many times before.

She shook her dark-haired head in defeat, playfully slapped his arm and motioned for him to go already. Bennet turned around, smiling genuinely, and started walking down the graveled driveway but then Mrs. Steiner's voice made him stop again.

"Oh, Bennet, I didn't tell you yet…"

"Yes?" he turned around and immediately had to squint into the bright summer's sun.

"I just remembered, our little girl is coming for a visit this weekend, and…" she paused dramatically. "She said she'd bring a man with her this time!"

"Really?" Bennet looked surprised. Now that were news indeed!

The Steiner's twenty-five-year-old daughter had been living away from home for several years now, since before Bennet had started working for the family. But of course he knew her well enough from countless visits. She was studying in New York, something to do with art or history or probably both. Bennet had never cared much to remember what it was exactly.

But in all those years he'd never seen her bring someone home with her. So this man now had to be someone special, right?

"Yes, and she seems pretty serious about him," Mrs. Steiner's voice sounded equally amused and worried. Just like any good and loving mother with a daughter of marriageable age.

"Well," Bennet answered at last, "then I'll make sure to take a very close look on that guy. We don't want her to end up with a villain, do we?"

Mrs. Steiner let out a relieved laugh. "No, God forbid. But I don't think it will come to that. I understand that he's a lawyer from a rich and important family in New York. But, as you know, that doesn't have to mean anything, so…" she shrugged non-committal. "I'm a fairly good judge of character myself, Bennet, and thankfully Heidi inherited some of that from me, so if she likes him he has to be likeable. But there's no harm in being careful, is there? So we're gonna take a close look on him, including you, promise?"

Bennet nodded affirmatively before he smirked: "I'm feeling kind of bad for the guy. I'm sure he's on pins and needles already and now he's gonna be put on the rack by all of us."

"Walter has been busy thinking out a few good questions for him and he's written them all down into one of his neat little questionnaires!" Mrs. Steiner laughed. "Just like he did when you came to work for us, remember?"

"How could I ever forget," Bennet shuddered playfully. "It was like the worst oral exam I ever had to sit through."

"And yet you passed with flying colors, didn't you?" Mrs. Steiner waved him off and started walking up to her house. Bennet turned around as well but he still heard her add: "He's got nothing to worry about, that young man. As long as he shows some basic manners everything should work out fine."

TBC

Note: I just wanted to mention that I've never been to Arizona and I have no idea what it looks like there. I don't know if there are oak trees and beautiful lawns… So, please don't be mad at me if I screwed it up, it's fiction after all. I doesn't really matter where Bennet lives, does it? As long as it's not Texas…