G O I N G T H R O U G H T H E M O T I O N S

A/N o7.o7.o7 My computer screwed up and accidentally put chapter two in the chapter one spot for a second there and there were two chapter twos in one story which completely didn't make any sense if you haven't read chapter one. Haha, that was probably confusing there but I fixed it. Sorry if this caused any confusion for new readers but THIS story contains more than one chapter (this chapter being the FIRST one)

Disclaimer: I only own the new character and her family. The rest belong to Tim Kring and his bunch.

A/N: This is my first fic, at least in a while. Please R&R… reviews would be nice and of course would be a main reason why I would continue this story ;) Cos of people aren't enjoying it, I can't continue it lol. So please R&R! Constructive criticism isn't minded either so please let the suggestions fly lol.

\ c h a p t e r o n e \

She sighed as she felt her blonde ringlets skim her neck and fall down her back. Claire Bennet swung the scrunchie into it's box with all her other hair accessories that sat on her vanity. This wasn't… home. She took a long look at herself in the mirror and breathed in deeply. A sudden knock at the door startled her and she jumped a little in her seat as the door opened. Peter walked in and she slowly caught her breath.

"Sorry, did I scare you?" he smiled apologetically.

Claire shook her head in response and looked away. She took one final look at herself in the mirror before turning around and plopping down on her bed cautiously. Peter closed the door behind him and sat down next to her slowly. He smiled at her again reassuringly.

"Everything's going to be fine, Claire…"

"I know, I know, I'm 'safe.'" She rolled her eyes. "I thought this was all over." It had been four months since they saved New York so why was she still here? She missed her daddy, not Nathan but Noah… Bennet. She still kept her last name not entirely sure she wanted to become a Petrelli just yet or that her real father wanted her to become one for that matter. She sighed again, thinking about her dad… the one that loved her, the one that protected her. She buried her head in her hands, aching to be with her warm, loving family—her real family.

Peter, reading all of these thoughts as they ran through her head, wrapped his arms around her tightly. She closed her eyes in his embrace, trying to hold back her emotions as he started rubbing her back calmingly.

"You're gonna see them again," he added, "I promise."

All Claire could do was nod numbly and try her best to gulp back her tears.

"There are still people here looking for you and your father would lead them right to you. It's all for the best, Claire."

"I am more than capable of protecting myself, Peter." She mumbled while slowly pushing him away."

"Oh trust me, I have no doubt in that." Peter chuckled. "But the situation's… complicated. Other people could easily get involved and hurt—not to mention innocent people—if people haven't gotten in too deep already." He got up off of her bed and looked down at her as she avoided his gaze. "You have your real father her anyhow."

Claire let out a dry laugh. Things hadn't changed much since the Petrelli boys made their miraculous return and Claire wasn't about to get her hopes up. "Sure," she plainly replied to Peter's statement.

"Look, Nathan'll warm up." He started to rub the back of his neck, frustrated that even after so many months living in the same household and after the election they both of them still couldn't even manage to get through a genuine conversation with each other. "He's proved he's not such a bad guy in the past. He's not completely hardened into a statue or a piece of stone or anything, ya know?"

"He… I just… I dunno. He's not my father. It's just not the same Peter." Claire got up and walked to the window. She felt a small smile slowly creep up her face as she looked up at the sky and started to think.

Her thoughts were quickly dispersed however as more knocks erupted on her bedroom door. Claire didn't even bother in trying to tell whoever it was that she was in the middle of a more or less meaningful conversation with Peter. The person, whichever other Petrelli it was, would have made their way in anyhow. They weren't exactly known as the most polite people—with the exception of Peter of course. A frown gradually made its way to her face when she saw who walked in. She turned away quickly before his gaze caught hers.

"I'd like to talk to my daughter alone," Claire heard. His voice was familiar to her as cold, hard, empty.

She cringed at the word "daughter" referring to herself when it came out of his mouth. She heard Peter walk out of her room and the door shut behind him but still didn't move by her position by the window.

"Can I help you with something, Nathan?" Claire coldly asked, still firmly planted on the floor where she stood before as her so called "father" made himself comfortable on the edge of the bed.

"Isn't it time you started calling me Dad?" Nathan rubbed his face, also exasperated with the complicated situation just standing there in front of him.

Letting out another dry laugh, which Claire tended to do at anything related to or having to do with Nathan, she finally turned around and faced him. "Dad, huh? You've been anything but." She shook her head, glaring at him coldly before starting to walk to the other side of her room and leaning on her closet door. She never lost her locked gaze on him.

"I'm trying, Claire…" he spoke gently, almost as if what just came out of his mouth also came out from his heart.

Claire quickly diverted her gaze from his eyes as he said this, afraid the real emotion in his eyes would let her easy/quick-to-give-in feelings get the best of her. "So try harder." She simply stated, now staring at her feet.

"I've been busy with work." Nathan tried to reason with her patiently. He wanted to get to know his daughter but the steel walls she kept up wasn't making it any easier.

"Yet you still have time for you other children—you're LEGIT children."

"Claire…"

"Don't even."

"But—"

"You've already practically disowned me, father. Just leave before you end up getting me, let alone OUR, hopes up and crush them like always."

"This was got to stop, Claire. It's not fair." Nathan groaned. He too (along with Peter, Heidi, and about everyone else and their flipping mother) was ready to move on past this estranged relationship they had.

"You're right, dad," Claire said the last word with such struggle and started walking over to him, soon standing over him. "It isn't fair. So why don't you just go before this attempt for 'father-daughter bonding' turns out just as bad, maybe even worse, than all your other tries." She said this unquestioningly without a quaver in her voice. However, her eyes said something else. They knew she wanted desperately to get to know her real father. She just couldn't seem to let go of her other dad though which was completely understandable.

Nathan, oblivious to all things going on in her mind and outside of politics, couldn't even look her in the eye as she said all of this therefore completely missing the deep desire in her gaze to want to know him—the REAL him—even if that feeling was only flickered for a second on her face. He wanted to give it one more shot despite the defeat her felt in the pit of his stomach. "Claire…" was all he could manage to get out.

"We had our shot—more like YOU had your shot. I suppose it was just all bad timing, with your election coming up as I popped into the picture and all." Claire hung her head, close to throwing in the towel in this fight, argument, whatever you wanted to classify it as. She reached out subconsciously for her father's hand but quickly acted like she was raising it to put a strand of hair behind her ear when Nathan swiftly got up and started marching to her bedroom door. She watched him pause before opening it to leave.

Nathan suddenly felt himself snap: "We didn't have to take you in, you know."

That statement was enough to send Claire flying through the roof in anger—that is, if she actually had that ability. "I thought you wanted to 'protect me'" she mimicked Peter's implications from the conversation they had had before her little confrontation with her "dad".

"No, that was all Peter." Nathan retorted before he could stop himself and slammed the door behind him as he walked out.

Claire was furious. Just when she thought she could get to know this man—to CARE about this man… as her own father. She felt herself fall to her knees, sobbing uncontrollably for her dad, her REAL dad. Looking out the window from the floor made her remember what she was thinking when she was stationed there. She brushed it away when Nathan came knocking as a stupid idea. Now, however, it didn't seem like too bad of an alternative with the effects of the eruption of emotions that just happened. She almost felt sad, then happy, then mad, and now more than anything… determined. Claire packed as many extra clothes she could fit into a random drawstring bag she picked up from her closet, grabbed her purse, and opened her window. It was a long way down but she's survived worse. She quickly turned off all of her lights, closed all of her cabinets and drawers, made sure her bed was made nicely and climbed out the window. Closing it behind her, she perched herself on the edge of the roof that was now the only thing that kept her from falling to the ground.

Breathe, Claire, she told herself and took a deep breath, closing her eyes as she jumped and hit the ground with less pain than had usually been inflicted upon her when she fell from buildings. That's what she thought when she picked herself up and looked back at the Petrelli mansion. It wasn't her home, it was just another building she lived in. She turned away from it and started walking. First it was a casual, inconspicuous walk, but then it got faster and eventually became a run.

She looked down at her watch and it read: 11:28. So it isn't THAT late… she thought. A presence suddenly dawned upon her and Claire realized she wasn't alone. Thinking about it more made her scared and her fright made her run faster. All of a sudden, she felt herself bump into something—no, make that someone.

"Oof," Claire grunted as she fell on top of this person. "Sorry, I should've looked where I was…" She trailed off as she got up and looked at the person's face. "… Peter? What the hell are you doing?"

"You need to go home," he scolded as he stood up.

"How did you… I thought… I was running so fast…" Claire's mind was running in circles now in confusion.

"I can fly." Peter smirked.

"You cheated," she scowled. "How did you know I was doing this anyway?"

"I may have picked up an ability to read people's minds somewhere…"

"AUGH. GET OUT OF MY HEAD." Claire groaned. She started walking away from him but not towards the Petrelli mansion.

"No." Peter said firmly, grabbing her by the arm and whipping her around to face him. He was clearly the stronger one in this picture and her attempts to wriggle herself away reigned unsuccessful. "Do you even realize how much danger you're in right now?!" he hissed. "Come on, my apartment's not too far from here." He pulled her a couple blocks to his apartment building but suddenly Claire wouldn't budge. She managed to pull herself out of his grip and started running again.

"CLAIRE!" Peter yelled after her. He hovered off of the ground, flying after her—literally. He caught her shoulders and gripped her arms once more, lifting her off of the ground. "You could get into some serious shit you don't want to get yourself into, Claire!"

"So maybe I do!" Claire screamed, turning herself around and clinging to Peter for dear life. "I don't want to be sheltered anymore! I'm not fine with living in this fantasy world where everything is centered around ME. It's not okay."

"Do you want to know the reality?!" He yelled down to her once more, wrapping his arms around her tightly to make sure she didn't fall as they made their way through the New York night sky.

"YES. I want to know what is REALLY going on!" Claire sighed. "I don't want to be kept in the dark anymore!"

She felt herself and Peter lowering down to the ground but his grip on her wouldn't give. She looked around and found the both of them standing in front of a bar.

"What does this have to do with 'reality'?" Claire looked up at Peter.

"Look inside the window." Peter simply said.

There they saw a girl wiping down tables and putting empty beer bottles and glasses into a small gray tub. She had auburn hair and she was wearing all black. The uniform perhaps, Claire noted. She was wearing simple flip-flops and her hair was swept up into a ponytail. Claire looked up at Peter again. "Again, what does this have to do with 'reality'?"

"Her name is Anna, Anna Rae Hutcherson." Peter looked down at her in all seriousness. "She's almost 15."

"What is she doing at a bar then? Isn't she underage?"

"She has 2 brothers, 2 nephews, and 1 niece." Peter informed her.

"Okay, and…?"

"And she takes care of all of them. By herself."

"Is this supposed to be some lesson for me? 'Cause if I'm supposed to be learning about responsibility, lemme just tell you that I've already been down this ro—."

Peter interrupted. "Her parents, her elder sister, and her aunt and uncle… they all died for you."