Title: The Mermaid
Fandom: Heroes
Rating: PG-13/T
Characters/Pairings: Caitlin, Claude, Peter (mostly gen, but some Caitlin/Peter)
Spoilers: Major ones for 2x07
Summary: Caitlin never makes it onto the plane.
Disclaimer: All NBC's and none of mine. I make no money from this. Also, please remember that fiction is fictional.
A/N: General idea of how time-travel works inspired by fangses (on livejournal)'s untitled Hiro fic. Title is from the story Caitlin tells Peter in the comics, about the man who went on to be a hero at the cost of losing his love, the mermaid. Seemed appropriate.

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Caitlin never makes it onto the plane.

She's torn out of his grasp and he disappears before her eyes. She's too in shock to do much else besides follow the rest, but inside her mind is racing. No one's told her anything and not only is she in the future, she's now stuck in the future unless he can figure out how he disappeared. Somehow she doesn't put much faith in the idea that just calling her name's going to work this time.

She's been pushed and shoved and dragged for the past few hours straight, which is why she doesn't notice at first when the man covers her mouth with his hand and shoves her against the wall. A friend of Peter's, she finds out later, though she can't see Peter getting on well with him. A friend who thought the man she'd come in with looked an awful look like Peter, and wasn't he supposed to be dead, and how did they managed to miss the whole end-of-the-world thing anyway?

He gets her knee connecting with his groin from his troubles, but after he stops cursing her she lets him explain how no one noticed them leaving the others. Only then does she give him the answers to his questions.

Neither of them really question the reason why they end up sticking close together after that.

They get on well enough for a misanthrope and a woman in the wrong time. She says it's because having most of the population dead tends to have the effect of drawing people closer. He claims it's mostly because she doesn't bitch about his stealing the way Peter apparently used to. That and the fact that she's much better at it, and that's without the luxury of going invisible when caught. Either way, he's the only person she knows in this country and she's the only one he can tolerate, most of the time. Even still, days will go by where she doesn't see him. When he comes back, she doesn't ask him where he's been to, and he doesn't complain too much about the fact that she's shared their ill-gotten goods with those that don't have their talent of getting it themselves. It works for them.

Their accents make them stick out like sore thumbs though, and neither of them can pull off an American one convincingly, so they don't say much when out in the open. But one day they slip up. She can't even remember what it was they said or who said it, but some eager patriot overhears and the next thing they know they're running again. He grabs her hand and she thinks they're safe, but then she catches their reflection in a window and knows something's gone wrong. After a day of running, they find some shelter to hide in, and he laughs it off and she pretends not to notice the way he keeps trying. They both pretend not to notice the way he keeps failing.

She's not surprised to find him run off for good when she wakes in the morning.

It's just another worry to add to the list. She worries about the boys constantly. There's no news about what's going on anywhere outside America and the only planes leaving the country are the kind that area one way trip, and she doesn't fancy another involuntary shower. She worries about Peter, back in the present, without someone with even her limited knowledge of who he is. She worries about finding out that since she's gone from the present, she's declared dead in the future, and what that could mean if someone catches on. Of course, she also worries about catching the virus and actually being dead too.

But mostly, all she has time to worry about is being caught.

It's not an idle worry. She's watched wives turning in their husbands, little children calling the police at a cough, entire towns quarantined at the drop of a hat. The future's not a place that's welcoming to friends, let alone strangers, and being put in quarantine is just as good as a death sentence. But even if she were deported instead of locked away, she doesn't know what would be waiting for her at the end of that plane ride. So she keeps her head down and steals what she can off them that can afford it and gives what help she can if it doesn't mean risking her own neck. And at night she worries.

Sometimes she even lets herself hope.

And then, one day, she blinks and it's the present. She's running down some abandoned street, trying to avoid the Homeland Security officer she's sure has been following her the past few days, and when she turns the corner she runs straight into someone's back. The man spares enough time to turn around and curse at her and it's then that she notices that he's part of a crowd. An honest to God crowd. She laughs and the man stares at her like she's lost her mind but she doesn't care. She doesn't care because she's so overjoyed that she almost kisses him because he did it. Peter did it.

"Caitlin?" It's been so long since she's heard her own name that she almost ignores it. But even after all this time, she'd recognize that voice anywhere.

"Peter," she breathes, and him she does kiss. "It's about time."

She's never letting go again.