Author's Junk: The Muse decided that she wanted to get all super out of character on me, so I decided to try this thingy in order to prevent more OOCness from leaking into my other story. In other words, I'm still procrastinating. This didn't turn out the way I thought but whatever.
AU STUFF/Summary: Sylar never went to Arthur after he killed Elle and all that stuff (therefore Arthur is alive), but he did do the whole shebang at Primatech holding the people hostage. Peter and Haitian Dude were captured by Arthur meanwhile a war is starting between the rebels and Arthur/Nathan's army of special people. This is my idea of how we get to the lovely little future Peter saw at some point in the series including Nice Gabriel, Mean Claire, and Baby Noah.
That about covers everything.
Disclaimer: I do NOT own Heroes. The lyrics used in the summary were what inspired this bit, though they make little sense. The song is "Skin" as sung by Alexz Johnson on the show Instant Star...so whoever owns that...It's not mine. And I also use the term 'McBastard' from Grey's Anatomy. So don't sue me.
Speaking isn't in quotations. It's italicized, but it's pretty simple.
Okay. Enjoy!
Another Little White Lie
When Claire was a child, her kindergarten teacher had asked the class what they wanted to be when he or she grew up. The answers usually revolved around the same five careers: doctor, policeman, firefighter, vet, or the President. Claire always found a way to avoid answering by suddenly having a massive headache, suddenly having her bladder near implosion, suddenly noticing that Timmy was staring at her. She skipped the question because the answer would have made the other kids howl with laughter—or at least stop playing with her at recess.
Claire wanted to be just like her Daddy: a worker at a paper company.
There were only perks as far as she was concerned. You would work enough to have a really nice house but not so much that you never saw your family. Heck, you could have a family at all. Somehow her mom had fallen in love with her dad, so that had to mean there was something attractive about a paper employee. The idea was perfect in Claire's naïve mind.
That is, until her BFF Jackie decided to tell her in second grade that that was the absolute most loser-ish job she had ever heard of in her entire life.
Claire decided that those weren't the most inspiring aspirations and henceforth mimicked every order Jackie had in store for her after. Still, even as she grew out of the faze of Father Worship and settled into the I-Hate-the-World-and-It's-All-Your-Fault era, the secretive part of her wanted to match every aspect of her Daddy and gain his approval.
And she did. Until she found out in the Cheerleader Saga that it was all one big, fat, stinking lie.
Claire still loved him. But, he lied to her. Lied to everyone.
A little white lie.
Then, there was Bio-Daddy. He may have been one of the greatest paradoxes she had come to know. He was everything she could have possibly imagined. A United States Senator. A real American hero. Yet, he was her biggest letdown, even more so than her father in some ways.
He didn't want her at first because he was just like any other shallow politician. One couldn't have one's illegitimate daughter running around with the kids when one was running for office. She had clenched her jaw in understanding and nodded, though she had wished to punch his perfect senator smile.
At least he hadn't lied to her.
Then Bio-Daddy saved Bio-Uncle—or at least saved Bio-Uncle from destroying all of New York, which would have killed Bio-Uncle in a different manner—and Claire felt herself starting to love him just a little bit. Maybe even begin to forgive for ditching her because of his pride. He was dead; what was she supposed to do?
But, he came back…still her hero…still Bio-Uncle's hero, too.
And, he threw it all away. He lied. He began working with a man who had unparalleled amounts of evil in his body. And he told himself it was okay.
Another little white lie.
But, what about Bio-Uncle? Surely he hadn't a fault with Claire. No lies.
Even he had sins. Usually, they were to protect her. So were her Daddy's.
He had more things to account for than that, though. She loved him, perhaps a little more than a niece should. Claire took no actions in that direction; she was mostly unaware of the feeling until she was faced with an ultimatum: destroy what's left of humanity or destroy Bio-Uncle.
It killed her inside every day she had to fire a weapon at him. However, it became easier with every lie he spewed from his God damn mouth.
Claire, I can fix it.
Claire, it doesn't have to be this way.
Claire, you don't have to fight with them.
Claire, Claire, Claire.
Too many white lies to count.
Then there was the man she had affectionately come to call the McBastard. Ironically, the McBastard had done more atrocious things to Claire than all of the men listed above combined, and yet, he had never lied. While he did the unspeakable, he didn't cower from its evils or deny them. He accepted them whole heartedly and relished in their thrills. He was, in essence, a bastard.
He was another challenge for her to meet.
The McBastard openly tried to kill her. Okay, she was afraid and…? What else? Anything? Nothing?
Oh.
The McBastard stole her power and in his own way, violated and traumatically damaged her beyond repair. He admitted it. So…what else?
Okay. Nothing again.
The McBastard tried to be good, to fight the bad guys with the guidance of his parents along with her father. He tried to apologize for what he did. Daddy wouldn't let him.
The McBastard saved her from a blackhole.
The McBastard's girlfriend shot her.
The McBastard tried to force her to blow off her Bio-Granny's head.
The McBastard killed Bio-Mom.
So freaking what? Did he lie about it? Did he hide behind pretty little words and stringed phrases that meant absolutely nothing?
Claire realized he hadn't. She hated him even more for it.
And she was grateful.
Maybe that was why when Bio-Granddaddy succeeded, and his own personal army was sent after what Hiro had called the "Justice League," they had all turned to someone to lead them, anyone.
Bio-Uncle wasn't around. He was in Arthur's grasp and in Claire's worried mind being tortured in unmentionable ways. Bio-Daddy and Bio-Granny were their last hope.
The heroes were rounded together, ready for a showdown at a certain Petrelli's Pinehearst headquarters in New Jersey. Their plan to take down Bio-Granddaddy/Daddy may have worked, if it weren't for the few who had betrayed them in the end. They were born criminals, and it seemed they would stay that way. Knox and whoever else they were. Claire didn't care. She wished they would die.
They killed Noah and Angela.
They were regrouping when the news of Nathan's sudden election into the oval office surfaced all over the news as well as his marriage to the ice woman. They had managed to rescue Bio-Uncle with more casualties than they would have liked. His scarred face being one of them. Naturally, he took over.
That is, until the McBastard came around.
Claire remembered his smirk the day he strolled into the abandoned farm, eyeing the incredulous looks from those who didn't know him and the piercing ones from those who did. She was among the latter.
What are you doing here?
He had chuckled, strutting straight up to Bio-Uncle as he sang the words.
I'm here to save the world, Pete.
Matt Parkman listened to his thoughts; he still wasn't lying. Claire hated it.
Apparently, the McBastard had been hunted much more than necessary by the government. He was the only match for Arthur Petrelli, and therefore, Bio-Daddy's only threat. He was kind of getting tired of moving and would like to hurry up and get the war done and over with, please.
If his mere presence didn't piss every soul in the building off, his nonchalance to the entire situation sure did.
Why?
It had finally been Claire to speak.
He met her intense gaze equally matching it with his dark eyes. She may have shivered, but she couldn't recall. Her heart beat harder with apprehension as he addressed her and her alone.
Because, Claire-Bear, when everyone's special, nobody is.
Bio-Uncle immediately nodded, agreeing that they could use any help they could find, particularly the McBastard's expertise. It had taken a bit longer to convince the reluctant Claire, but she gulped back her fear and pressed on, though she did it with the upmost impertinence towards him. Her memory was rather sharp.
He became ever present after that, always a hairsbreadth away or lingering in the shadows of their meetings. Mostly, he said nothing. Sometimes, he found occasion to interrupt her or Bio-Uncle—mostly her though and merely to get under her skin. He constantly taunted her and teased her: whispered in her ear and then casually cantered in from the opposite side of the room, feigning innocence. She could easily see through the façade when he waggled those damn eyebrows and gave her a smirk he must have had patented just for her. It was annoying as hell, and it even irritated Bio-Uncle at times.
She should have anticipated when he jumped her the one night Bio-Uncle had to leave to relay a message to some of the rebels.
She was at her old house in Costa Verde in the kitchen when he had appeared from nowhere…literally; he had unfortunately tapped in to Hiro Nakamura's ability, and she was the one to pay for it. Of course, their usual banter ensued, but something had changed. Claire couldn't put her finger on it. The air about him was different. The way he carried himself was different. Hell, his eyes looked different. He knew something she didn't. He knew something was going to happen.
That's when he had thrown her up against the refrigerator and kissed her so violently, she had momentarily bruised purple and brown spots along her arms where he held her. The moment he pulled away, she smacked the McBastard for touching her in such an inappropriate fashion. She would have continued into a long rant if it weren't for his lips crashing to hers again. And again. And again.
She should have stopped him. She could have because he would have listened.
But, she didn't. She kissed him back…licking, biting, moaning, and all.
Then, he was carrying her to the living room, laying her on the floor, muttering how he was going to make Claire his.
One can assume the next chapter of the night.
She never told anyone. Especially not her Bio-Uncle.
He could never know. No one ever would.
This plan proved to be more difficult as the 'specialized' government agents closed in on them, growing more accurate with their target locations. The risk of being caught by either their friends or enemies grew with every hidden kiss and every subtle touch.
It became impossible when Claire realized that her stomach wasn't as flat and toned as it used to be. In fact, it looked rather round. Too round to be a bit of immortal weight gain.
The McBastard noticed one quiet moment when he ran his spidery fingers over her belly, a gesture he had developed unconsciously over their few short months 'together.' He felt the bulge and the expanding of skin. Then, he heard the heartbeat.
What's that doing in there?
Claire had tried to carry it off as a joke. But, he was dead serious. Ironic, isn't it?
Claire…I didn't know you could…
She sighed.
Yeah. Me either.
They were silent in the empty room of the hotel. Bio-Uncle was down the hall with someone they had agreed to meet who wanted to help. Someone else who would probably die.
Claire was so scared.
What do we do?
As she looked into his eyes, she couldn't call him the McBastard anymore.
Sylar…what do we do?
He took several minutes to answer as he stared into her face.
I…We protect it, Claire.
He kissed her head just before Bio-Uncle walked in with a huge grin on his marred face. Apparently, he had found another person with Haitian-like abilities—the poor man had perished long ago—and they finally found the opportunity to get Sylar near enough to kill Arthur: Nathan's birthday dinner. It would be a huge event. No one would even notice a few extras crashing the party.
Claire had to argue with him to let her go that night. She said she had to be there in case something happened to him. This caught him off guard. Did she actually care about him? She didn't know, but she wasn't about to let her poor child become a bastard. He reluctantly agreed. He knew the pain of being a bastard child. She realized her nickname may have actually hurt him on some level, but their past was over and done with. They had to move on from it, though Claire still had some difficulties. A part of her cared, and a part of her would still have liked to beat him to a pulp for what he did to her and her family. But, as she mused on her thing called a relationship, the idea of Arthur ripping Sylar to shreds left her clinging to the man in her bed, where he always snuck in to be at her side for reasons unknown to either of them.
The day passed and the night dawned.
If her life hadn't already been sending her to hell, that evening's actions would have gotten her front row seats for sure. She had to be one of the ones in the shadows, of course; she was way too easily recognized. Bio-Uncle was, too. She dyed her hair brown for the occasion, mostly to help with her blending in, but her steps were extra cautious as she thought of the life she had to fend for besides her own.
Matt Parkman chose that particular moment to squeeze her arm from where they stood behind a column in the large ballroom. Both were clad in formalwear, but they also had their gazes downward, until Claire looked to his eyes to see why he had grabbed her.
I know about you and Gabriel.
There was no point in becoming a liar herself. He would know anyway. She tried to keep herself calm for the sake of the mission at stake.
Then you know how imperative it is that it's kept secret.
He arched his eyebrows, examining her stomach suspiciously.
Are you really…?
Pregnant? Yes, Matt. Geez.
He was cut silent at this. He let go of his grasp on her arm and returned his attention to the ballroom where hundreds of politicians and other important figures danced in dizzying circles. No one was even aware of their presence. Bio-Uncle had been quite accurate in his scheming, but there was one thing missing.
Bio-Granddaddy.
Speaking of which, where was Sylar? He had entered with another special woman who had disguised both of their appearances. Bio-Uncle was outside the premises, there to prevent any escape from their targets.
Panic immediately enveloped Claire, and Matt found her hand and held it tightly.
Calm down. I can still hear him. He and a few others are upstairs with Arthur.
Her hazel eyes widened.
Arthur?! Then what the hell are we doing down here?!!
He looked at her sadly, the same look in his features that all the other liars had upon confession of the truth. She retracted her hand from his angrily, resisting the urge to spit on him.
He made me swear to protect you.
She began stalking carefully around the crowd. He quickly followed suit.
Claire, stop. You're going to get us killed.
She thought that was good. Maybe people would stop lying to her then.
God, she could never remember being so vastly infuriated with anyone in her short life. He lied to her. He knew he was going to die. He knew it. And he fucking lied anyway.
Another little white lie.
Matt had begun to yell at her by the time she tuned in to the present—the present where Nathan had shown up at her side and grabbed her elbow roughly before tugging her along to a door hidden behind one of the columns. Claire didn't bother screaming. She just let him take her where he pleased. Matt had been cut off somewhere behind them. She regretted her thoughts and prayed he wasn't dead.
Claire, I've tried to protect you. I've tried but you won't listen.
Everything moved in blurred lines. She couldn't see anything. There was a corridor…an elevator…some other hallway…a roof…maybe the highways moving below her…
Then, all of a sudden, she was in an office. A very oval shaped office. One that had the President's insignia on the carpet.
One where Sylar stood unmoving in the center.
One where Arthur greeted her casually from the desk.
She didn't want to take in this reality. She didn't want to see the look of fear in Sylar…no…Gabriel's brown eyes as he watched her. She didn't want any of it.
The old man was the first to speak.
There you go, Gabriel. Make your choice.
Her eyebrows squished together. What the hell?
What choice?
Arthur smiled kindly at her as he explained. He folded his hands neatly on the desk. It surprised Claire that Bio-Daddy had no problem with this, although he must have been slightly distracted from holding onto her arm.
Well, see Gabriel and I came down to a deal. He gets to live and be free so long as he chooses one of you.
She was still devastatingly confused. Nathan allowed her to sit in a chair as she grew dizzier.
One of who?
Bio Granddaddy chuckled.
Between you and your son, of course.
At this, he lifted up a piece of paper from the desk. It was a sketch. A sketch of Claire, Gabriel, and a small blue bundle in her arms. Smiling. They were happy. So damn happy it hurt.
You son of a bitch.
Gabriel finally found some courage.
Now, now, Gabriel…Don't tempt me to kill them both.
His protests fell silent, though the hatred in his scowl said plenty more.
Good. Now, choose. You're…lover, perhaps? Whatever my granddaughter is to you.
She cringed at having any relation to the man.
Or the child you two created?
It didn't take long for them to find each other's eyes. Claire tried to remain as emotionless as possible. He stared, a desperation in his expression she wished she never had to witness. No one should have tolook like that—especially not him. Tears stung at her eyes, but she gulped them back. He shook his head slowly, and Claire suppressed a sob. She knew what that meant.
I can't-
Take me instead.
She had blurted the words without a thought. Arthur glanced to her with intrigue while Nathan and Gabriel both looked at her in bewilderment. She elaborated simply with the fact that she would take both Gabriel's and their child's place, whatever place that may be. She would do it. But, they could never harm those two ever again.
Her grandfather eyed her carefully, thinking over the prospect.
Would you be willing…to kill Peter?
The tears slid down her face. Her lip trembled as she sucked in a sharp breath; it hurt. The very idea. She couldn't meet Gabriel's dangerous gaze screaming at her to say no.
Yes. I'll kill him. Just…let them be…
He yelled at her. She couldn't hear what he was saying, but he yelled really loud. Loud enough that Arthur sent him flying out the window with a resounding crash. That was the last Claire saw of him for a long time.
Just like that, the night was over. Mission failed. Tickets to hell ready.
She stayed with them, not in the White House but in the Petrelli mansion. She was waited on every second, probably more so she wouldn't run. It was annoying. She missed the good old rough'n'tough days where they slept in the woods if necessary, and she unknowingly cuddled next to a particular someone for warmth. She missed it so bad it ached in her chest, but she prayed the baby would stay inside as long as possible because afterward, she had a promise to fulfill.
It didn't last long enough.
Claire was knocked unconscious for the procedure, so she wouldn't see the boy. She didn't know what happened to him after that, but she hoped fervently that he was somewhere safe with Gabriel. It was terrifying, not having the extra life in her body anymore. She felt…empty. Unwhole.
Alone.
It took a few days for her body to heal back to its original teenage size. It took a few weeks for them to train her in hand-to-hand combat. A few more for weaponry. She tried to be as slow a learner as possible, tried to let her instructors beat her into a pulp, tried to not understand how to smash someone's skull in. She felt her heart breaking with every breath she took, and she kept imagining her legs giving out, her limbs not regenerating. Anything to stop her from what she was training to do.
But, nothing did.
No one did. Not even Bio-Daddy.
He was just going to let her run off and kill his only little brother.
Claire hated him and his father for what they were making her into. Arthur met with her quite frequently, he apparently being the only one aware that she wouldn't just go and kill her hero…her uncle…her Peter. He talked his twisted words, lying white lies like everyone else. He told her that the world was going to end, and he knew it. He saw the paintings of the planet splitting open like a watermelon. He had heard of all of the visions. What people failed to realize, though, was that Nathan wouldn't be the one causing all of this. Not even Arthur would be the one causing it.
It would be Peter. Her Bio-Uncle. He didn't realize the things that would happen when the power was given to anyone with any agenda throughout the world, when they stopped producing the formula that would give them the option to choose who got the power. It would be much worse than any world war…the fighting. Eventually, someone would go over the edge, someone with enough force to bring down an entire planet. And, it would be all Peter's fault. Because he stopped Arthur and Nathan.
Claire tried to ignore him. She convinced herself over and over it was just a ploy to get her to kill him. She knew it was a lie. She knew it. She had to.
And yet, each time she left from one of their 'sessions,' she found herself believing his little white lie more and more until she was completely consumed by it. There was no doubt in her mind that Peter was the villain.
It had been much easier to kill the terrorist than what they had trained her for. Locating was a synch, and he didn't even stir as she pressed the gun to his forehead while he slept comfortably in a motel bed.
I always loved you.
One shot rang out in the darkness. His breathing stopped as blood spattered the headboard.
Claire didn't know if she cried, but she felt the pain of her actions, the guilt. She felt it burning through her insides, and as the managers of the motel came clobbering down the hallway, she hopped out the window with grace, pushing the emotions to the back of her mind to be sorted through later.
The blood on her face must have told Arthur she wasn't lying when she returned, bearing the news of the youngest Petrelli's death. Bio-Granddaddy seemed unshaken by the memo as he stood by his eldest son's side, but Nathan was caught by surprise, bracing himself against his presidential desk as he stared at her in horror.
Pete's really…gone?
She nodded. She didn't notice the tears sliding down her cheeks.
Can I please go home now? My real home?
Arthur had chortled.
Yes, you may. Real home is wherever you really belong, where you're really loved.
Claire didn't understand why he found this amusing, but she didn't care as she let the gun slid from her gloved grasp and thud onto the carpeted floor before walking out of the office without so much as a goodbye.
She returned to the Petrelli home to shower. She scrubbed at her skin to the point where it began to rip off in slightly burning sensations. She sobbed quietly, but the sobbing turned to screams as she fell to the floor, her wet brown hair falling around her shoulders as she cried out her misery.
After throwing on a white cotton sundress, she didn't bother with any other belongings. They weren't really hers. She let her hair down for the first time since…well, she couldn't even remember. It had always been up in a nice chocolate ponytail. It felt like a relief, a lifted weight, as she let it cover the expanse of her back.
She got the first straight shot flight to Costa Verde.
She got the first taxi from the airport.
She got to the last home she had had before this hellish nightmare.
She almost got out of the little yellow cab when she noticed that the small grey car sitting in the driveway had just been turned off, and a tall man was stepping out of the driver's seat. He had thick black hair but a clean shaven face. He wore jeans and a pullover sweater. Glasses graced his perfect grinning face, and she felt her heart stop as he opened the back door.
He pulled out a small baby in blue footie pajamas, giggling happily at the sight of his father. The little boy had wispy blonde hairs and pale white pudgy skin. She couldn't see the color of his squinty baby eyes, but she had a feeling those didn't look anything like his father's either.
The man held the boy carefully in his arms as he reached into the backseat and slipped a grocery bag onto his arm. He kneed the door shut as he said something inaudible to the baby. She asked the cabdriver to lower the window for just a second, and they would be on their way. He rolled his eyes but complied.
The father and son had already made it to the front door when she finally heard his name.
Noah.
That's also when Gabriel noticed the yellow taxi parked across the street.
Claire told the driver to go. Now. He asked why. She said it didn't matter. Just to go.
She returned to the Petrelli mansion the next day. She called Arthur.
You have your freedom, Claire.
Bitter tears formed in her eyes.
I have nowhere else to go.
He laughed at her. She hated him even more.
What happened to your son?
Claire didn't answer. She clicked the phone off.
Gabriel had happened to her son. She wasn't going to break that, too. He just wouldn't know about her. Gabriel wouldn't tell little Noah anything. He wouldn't want him to know about the blood on his mother's hands. He would make up a story. Maybe she died in a car crash. Or maybe it was a robber at the house.
Claire looked at her dead face in the mirror, the bags under her eyes, the pallor of her tan skin. She choked down the sardonic laughter that bubbled in her throat.
Another little white lie.
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