My first fic, in the lovely strange disjointed writing style with omniscient narration.
Reviews would be appreciated (please don't verbally abuse me, its only my first attempt) :)
-
She wasn't the same girl six months ago.
Six months ago, she was smiling and happy, preparing to accept an unexpected title: Homecoming Queen.
On one fateful night, her life was thrown upside down.
Her once best friend, killed in front of her.
For the one moment that she looked at Jackie's bloodied, lifeless body, all she could think was 'That should be me'.
She also saw her handsome savior come back to life, just like her.
Not only did this completely stun her, but give her hope. There was someone just like her.
---
Tears streamed down her face as she dragged herself off the cold,
stone floor.
Again, this was another situation in which she should have died.
Not many people survive shootings, stabbings, drowning or fires (among other things).
The pain was worse than usual this time.
Usually when she regenerated, she felt sharp pricklings throughout her body.
But this felt like knives, tearing into her.
Reaching gingerly, she reached her hand up to secure the top of her skull.
She squinted her eyes shut and winced in pain as her skull fused back together.
She drew a shaky breath, and slowly stood up.
Crimson blood soaked the top of her long, white gown.
She gives a sigh.
Of all days to ruin clothing.
---
She left Odessa less than two weeks after Homecoming.
She and her father realized that there was no hope of her living life as a normal, happy teenager.
She was putting herself and her loved ones in danger by simply being nearby.
Her father sent his associate, Eden, to escort her to New York City.
With a kiss and a promise to be safe, a new life was started.
She moved into an apartment with several other heroes.
They lived together, fought together.
---
She turned eighteen a month after her arrival.
It was bittersweet, with no parents or anyone else from he past.
The heroes all smiled and put on a little party in their collective apartment.
Pictures were taken, gifts given, cake cut.
The traditions she once took for granted comforted her in so many ways.
For once, she missed her brother.
As she went to her room, a voice called out her name in the hallway.
She turned, and her lips collided with another pair.
A whisper, 'Happy Birthday'.
A promise.
---
She ran hurriedly down the hall, high heels clicking, pulling up the top of her strapless gown.
Nothing was going to stop her from missing this day.
Even death.
She had furiously set to work on bleaching her dress with one of those portable stain pens, and had managed to get enough of the blood out.
She had just pulled a lacy shawl around her shoulders and called it even.
She pushed open the doors and walked quickly down the aisle.
Flashing a quick smile, she apologized quietly.
He turned his head and looked her straight in the eyes, 'Are you alright?'
Silently, she responded 'What do you think?'
Then it hit her how lucky she was to be standing here, not only alive,
but loved and...
There was a silence in the room.
It was her turn.
---
She most certainly wasn't the same girl six months ago.
She was (now) happy, but no longer naive or as innocent.
The girl six months ago would have wanted to go to college and "live life" and try to be a normal, wild young adult.
Maybe she would eventually fall in love the old-fashioned, romantic way, with roses and dates and a proposal on one knee with a fancy ring.
That girl now was a slightly jaded woman, free from Barbie and Ken-esque delusions.
She had fallen in love with the man who had picked her wounded body off a New York street and kissed her pale forehead and told her she was beautiful, even covered in blood.
Romantic? Perhaps.
But he had promised her that he would love her and protect her with every breath he took.
Even through she was barely eighteen, their ages meant nothing.
It may have made her parents and the other heroes a completely uncomfortable and unsure of what to say, but...
Love knows no boundaries, once found.
He once said that he thought they were 'something akin to Romeo and Juliet'.
He was, in someways, more a dreamer than she ever was.
But he still knew Romeo and Juliet was her favorite play.
He knew every obscure, strange fact about her.
Her struggles were far from over, but with him, she didn't care.
She had been lost and he had found her.
That was love.
She drew a deep breath.
"I, Claire Bennet, take Peter Petrelli..."
The end
---
Author's Notes:
-You can decide for yourself about her wound, I'm a little unsure in my talent for writing fight scenes so let your imagination take over for that.
-This assumes that Claire and HRG have had a daddy-daughter talk about her powers...
-A little fluffly cause we obviously aren't getting any on the show (yet)!