[[A series of Claire-centric fics from Tumblr.
Spoilers: For Lost Future.
Set: Mainly based around LF and ten years before.]]
Moments
"We still have time," Claire insisted.
Hershel glanced at the vacant dance floor. The majority of the wedding guests had gone home. Clark and Brenda had left thirty minutes ago to catch their flight. Hershel couldn't recall the name of their honeymoon destination (Clark had been very hush-hush about it around Brenda), but he knew it was an island off the coast of Africa.
Being the best man, Hershel had offered to help clean up the party venue. Claire was helping him. Or rather… she was supposed to be.
She dumped her pile of cutlery on a table and pranced towards the dance floor.
"Claire, wait!" he whisper-yelled. Even after consuming several glasses of wine, a gentleman should not shout.
"No one's looking now," Claire laughed, throwing her hands up and twirling around to face him. "You don't have to worry about what other people will think."
She was referring to his embarrassing attempt at a waltz earlier. His cheeks flushed.
"Please, Hershel…" Claire held out her hand. She was wearing that smile. The one where she titled her head and her eyes seemed to twinkle. The one that made Hershel's heart melt.
"Alright then, one last dance."
"Why are you two slacking off when we're at the edge of a scientific breakthrough?" Bill demanded.
"We're celebrating, actually," Claire corrected him. She placed a chocolate cake on the worktop and went to turn on the lab's TV.
Bill hissed to Dimitri, "You do realise our sponsors could come to inspect our progress at any given moment – "
"At six o'clock in the evening?" Dimitri glanced at the clock. Usually, the three of them would head home at this time. (In Dimitri's case, that meant continuing his research at home.)
However, Claire had insisted on having a 'movie night' after all of their hard work. Dimitri wouldn't miss it for the world.
"What would you rather watch?" Claire hollered, holding up the videotapes she had brought. "There's Back to the Future, E.T., or Star Wars…"
"Call me when the two of you return to Planet Earth," Bill scoffed. Dimitri had never felt so grateful to Bill than when he went to grab his coat and hat.
"Bye, Billium!" Claire chimed with fake cheer. She turned to Dimitri earnestly. "Looks like the choice is all yours…"
He studied the films' covers. It wasn't that his disliked science fiction, per se. He just struggled to look past the logical inaccuracies often portrayed in the genre. Claire must have been more forgiving if she was a fan.
Dimitri shook his head. "You'll know which is best. I've never seen any of them…"
Claire gasped, "What? Not even Star Wars?" (Again, he shook his head) "That's it! We're having a marathon!" She marched back to the TV, put on Star Wars: A New Hope, and pulled up two chairs.
Smiling, Dimitri was about to join her, when he noticed their movie snack was missing. "Claire… What happened to the cake?"
He was fifteen minutes late coming to meet her at the park, but then, she had been late coming home. She hadn't intended to stay an extra two hours at the lab and miss dinner with him. Honestly, she and Dimitri were just chatting about Schrödinger's cat, lost track of time, and then Bill ordered them to clean up the lab before they could leave. Dimitri assured her it was hardly her fault, but she still felt terrible.
Hershel hadn't answered her calls, so she was forced to leave him a message:
"Hi! I'm sorry about dinner – Bill kept us behind at the lab…" It was easy enough to blame Bill, recycled as the excuse sounded. She swallowed. "Um… I hope you ate without me – not that don't appreciate you waiting! Just wouldn't want your dinner to go cold, haha…" How could she laugh about that, when he would no doubt stay up all night until she walked through the door? Her laughter dissolved into a sigh. "I'm really sorry, Hershel. Could… could we meet in the park outside your flat? On the bench?"
That was where she was sitting now, still dressed in her work clothes, wringing her hands together. She fumbled in her lab-coat for the golden pocket-watch Hershel had given her. 9.20pm.
Where was he? What if he never turned up? Could she blame him? They had been planning this night for months, and she hadn't even shown up –!
Her hands were shaking. She dropped the watch.
"No…!" she gasped, leapt off the bench, and combed through the grass on her hands and knees. Need light… She whipped a miniature torch out of her pocket and waved it around the bench. She spotted the watch, which was lying open. Thank goodness, the glass face didn't look broken. She carefully picked it up and cradled it to her chest.
"Claire? Are you alright?"
"Hershel!" she exclaimed as he helped her up. "Sorry – "
It was so rare for him to interrupt her. "No more apologies, please. I already received your message…" He guided her back onto the bench, but didn't sit beside her. She avoided his gaze by slipping her watch back into her coat. The silence between them was heavier than a black hole.
Finally, Hershel cleared his throat. "I put the chicken casserole in the fridge." (Chicken casserole – her favorite.)
"Thank you," Claire sniffed, "but I don't think I deserve it."
"You've been working for hours," he reminded her. "You must be starving."
"You must be upset with me…"
He admitted, "Yes, I was… concerned when you didn't get back at seven, but I assumed you were working overtime. I regret that I missed your call…"
She shook her head. "There's nothing for you to be ashamed of. I'm the one who kept you waiting!"
"I can't fault you for losing track of time. I've done it myself." Hershel hummed. "Maybe next time, you could just give me some prior warning?"
"I promise I will – I mean, it won't happen again anytime soon, so don't worry!" She hugged him with a sigh.
A sliver of guilt still nibbled at her mind, but it was easy to ignore while she was wrapped in his arms.
It really was him. He'd barely changed in ten years – he even still had the hat! She knew that already from the photos Clive had collected. But seeing him here… now… it was unbelievable.
She cowered behind the wall, hand covering her mouth. She could tell him everything – about Dimitri's machine, 'Future' London, her suspicions about Clive… They still had time to stop them, time to spend together –
No. He couldn't know it was her. Not yet. Not ever. She didn't believe he would team up with Dimitri, but the truth would be too much for even him to bear. She couldn't hurt him like that.
Of course he would recognize her, sooner or later, but maybe she could pretend to be someone else. If Clive could get away with it, then so could she. (Brenda's acting tips would finally come in handy.) If he asked, she would be Claire's long-lost relative… a sister. For once, she didn't regret falling out with her family.
She took a deep breath, stood up straight and adjusted her own hat. (Dimitri's choice, not hers). She stepped out into the street, shoulders hunched, head low. Did that just draw more attention? She put one foot in front of the other. Heat prickled across her skin. She struggled to keep herself from shaking. Am I glowing? She couldn't faint again, not in front of Hershel. Dimitri had said her body was stable –
Here came Hershel. She gazed straight ahead, but focused on the young boy walking beside him. (Anything to distract her from Hershel.) The boy seemed familiar, and not simply because he looked like Clive. His hair colour was rather like Hershel's. He must have been at least ten. Dimitri never mentioned Hershel had a son, but then he might have thought it would upset her. (As if she would worry about that with everything else that was happening.)
It's been ten years, she reminded herself. If Hershel moved on and started a family after she left, then she was happy for him.
Then why did she feel a spark of hope when Hershel froze?
She kept walking until she was around the corner.
When she was certain that Hershel hadn't followed her, she ducked inside a restaurant and sagged into a seat. She allowed herself five minutes and a cup of tea to regain her composure. Then, she resumed her surveillance ("It's not spying, Dimitri!") of Hershel and his apprentice.
His apprentice, as he insisted a Family goon call him. Luke. How could she have not recognized those bright eyes? Of course he was Brenda and Clark's son!
Why did she feel so relieved?