Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes. The lyrics are from Damien Rice "Volcano"… I'm not in support of incest but it's Peter and Claire! Come on folks….
A/N: I wrote this over the summer. It was just missing something. I randomly remembered it and looked over it again. I think all the pieces are filled. I'm kinda excited about sharing it. Let me know what you think. Please????? Thanks. Enjoy… Dani
Volcano
Don't your hold yourself like that
Cause you'll hurt your knees
I kissed your neck, your back
But that's all I need
Peter opened the door. Claire stood before him, soaking wet. He looked in her eyes. Her face was stained with mascara. She didn't say anything, just searched him with her eyes. Peter pulled her into his arms.
She sat on the edge of his couch. He moved around silently.
"Peter." She said quietly. He looked at her. "Why are you going?"
"It's just for a little while, a month or so."
She looked down. "But why? I don't want you to go."
He sat beside her. Moved a piece of her hair behind her ear. "You should put on dry clothes." He left her on the couch and returned shortly. "Here. Try this." He handed her a t-shirt and a pair of his sweatpants. She muttered her thanks and went into the bathroom.
"Claire?" he said as he knocked on the door. She didn't reply. "Claire!"
He phased through the door and unlocked it. She was sitting on her knees in front of the toilet.
"Claire." He sat beside her, rubbed her back.
"I just want to throw up Peter. I just want to feel better, to make it go away. But I can't." she whispered.
He knew what she was talking about. He didn't have to ask.
"It won't help. I've tried." He said. She looked up at him and laid her head on his shoulder. He stroked her hair. "Come on. Sitting on your knees on the floor isn't going to make you feel better."
They sat down on the couch again. Silence filled the room again. "Please Peter…don't go."
He looked at her. "I have to. It's the only way."
"To what?" she pressed him.
He fidgeted in his seat. She moved closer to him. "It won't help Peter. You'll still feel the same way. You taught me that I can't run away. You can't either."
He stared at her. She was beautiful. "I'm not running away."
"You are. Peter…" their lips were inches apart. He could feel her breathe on his chin.
Without another thought, another word he kissed her. Passionately, silently. She kissed him. Her lips felt so right with his. He kissed her neck. She moaned at his touch. Her shirt came off. His shirt really, it was just on her.
His kisses travelled down her neck, down her back. She ran her hands through his hair. "Peter," she whispered, "I love you."
He stopped and looked at her again. "You can sleep on the bed." He jumped off the couch. She stared at him, confused.
Don't build your world around
Volcanoes melt you down
"Peter? What's wrong?" she asked him.
"We can't do this. We can't."
"We can."
"It's wrong. You're my niece. You're seventeen," he said quietly.
"But I love you. And you love me." Claire said.
Peter didn't respond. "You can't. It's wrong. You can't love me."
"I want to be with you Peter. We can make this work. We just have to—"
"You can't imagine a life with me! You can't build a world where we can exist. We can't. Not ever Claire." His agitation showed through, more than he wanted to. She just stared at him.
"Peter."
"Claire, you're playing with fire by wanting me. I shouldn't have kissed you. You're just going to get hurt." He said.
She had tears in her eyes. He saw them but he looked away. "Stay as long as you want. I'll be back later." He said and closed the door.
And what I am to you
Is not real
And what I am to you
You do not need
And what I am to you
Is not what you mean to me
So give me miles and miles and mountains
And I'll ask for the sea
She sat across from him. She'd barely touched her coffee. It was getting cold. He didn't speak either. It was as if all the words escaped them and got lost in transition. "Claire," he said softly. Her green eyes shot up at him. "What I am to you…this, this isn't real."
"You say that but…"
"I'm not good for you. You don't need it. This is only going to be bad, cause you pain. I…" Peter started.
"You're wrong. You are what I need."
Peter shifted.
"What do I mean to you Peter?"
He looked at her. Searched her. "What you think I mean to you…it's not what you mean to me. I love you because you're my niece and I want to protect you. But I can't love you like that. I can't be with you. Ever."
He watched her fight off tears. "You're lying. I know you."
"Claire…I'm sorry. I'm not. It's not possible. It can't happen."
She reached her hand out toward his, which was resting on the table. He pulled it away. She searched him and threw some cash on the table. "See you later Uncle Peter."
I love you, he thought as the restaurant door slammed.
He sighed. Remembering her touch, her kiss. He slammed his head on the table. He'd kissed her before, each time more passionate than the other. He loved her since he met her and he feared nothing could change that. Not the fact that she was too young. Not the miles he put between them. Not even the fact that she was his niece. He knew that he would love her always.
And always he'd have to lie. Have to keep moving on. Have to remind himself that and that she was too young. And that he was her uncle. That was all he could do. If he remembered how it felt to kiss, he'd want more. He'd want more than he could have. It killed him that he wanted her but he did. He wanted her so much it was dangerous.
Don't throw yourself like that,
In front of me
I kissed your mouth, your back
Is that all you need?
Don't drag my love around,
Volcanoes melt me down
Claire stood as the chaos ensued. Sylar, the villains, they were on a rampage. She stood, wanting one of them to attack her. It was a death wish, she knew that but it was the only thing that felt like it made sense. It was her only hope. Her only escape.
It happened, almost before she could even realize it. She watched it in slow motion. A flicker of something, a light that was coming toward her. She wanted to close her eyes, jump out of the way but she couldn't. She couldn't move, didn't want to. Then something changed and she was on the ground.
She looked up and saw his dark eyes gazing at her. "Are you okay?" he asked. She pushed him off of her. "I take that as a yes."
She stared at him blankly. "You don't need to protect me."
"If I hadn't, you'd be dead!"
"Doubtful. Let's just finish this and go home," she said. She walked away from him, back toward the fight. Peter sighed and followed behind.
"What the hell were you doing? Were you trying to get yourself killed?" Peter bellowed through his tiny apartment.
Claire didn't respond. "Don't do that again!"
"Do what?"
"Do that. Don't throw yourself in front of me like that!" Claire yelled.
"I did it to save you!"
"You did it for you! I was just fine!"
"Fine," he scoffed. "You were standing there, a direct target. You didn't move. You didn't respond when I yelled your name. What was I supposed to do?"
"Just let it happen! That's what was supposed to happen!" He looked at her like he didn't know her. "I was supposed to die! I'm always supposed to die but it never happens!"
He moved toward her quickly and grabbed her arm.
"Let me go," she said, trying to move away. "Peter let me go!"
His eyes burned into her skull. "Don't you ever say that ever again." He spoke softly, his voice firm.
Her eyes met his, looked there for something else. She didn't want to see what she saw—that pain, that longing. She wanted to see the hatred that she felt for life, the unfairness of it. She wanted a reason to give up but it wasn't there.
He pulled her close to him. She stayed there, wrapped in his arms. It the closest he'd held her in months. He kissed her cheek softly, her forehead. They were silent.
"Don't ever say that again. Don't even think it…" he said. "I don't know what I'd do without you."
Claire pulled away from his. "I can't do this." He watched her walk away from him.
"What's wrong?" Peter asked. Claire shook her head. The silence drowned by the summer storm outside.
"Is that enough for you?" she whispered, her gaze lost outside. She looked at him. "Is that all you need?"
He met her gaze. He knew she was talking about them. "Claire…"
"We hug, hold each other. You kiss my cheek, stroke my hair. We kiss sometimes when you let yourself give up control. That night…" she paused. "Is that all you need Peter?"
"It's all I can have."
"It's not enough for me," she said slowly, quietly. "I can't do it."
'I'm sorry' was his only response. He sat, unmoving, still staring at her.
"I feel like… like we're playing this horrible game. And I can't play anymore. My heart is wearing down."
"I don't want to do that to you, Claire," he said.
She looked him and smiled her signature sad little smile. "I know."
"What do you want me to do?"
She looked at him. "Pick. Tell me what you want. I want you—you know that. Tell me and if it's not me, I'll go. Don't lead me on anymore."
Claire held back her sob. She already knew the answer. He touched her cheek. "It will never work—as much as we want it to. There are too many things…" She nodded. She knew that. She was too young for him—he said it many times. She was his niece, he was her uncle. That fact weighed the most on him. She always knew that too.
He wrapped her in his arms. "I wish I could change it."
She looked at him. She knew she was torturing herself but she leaned into him and kissed him. He kissed her back, thought she knew it was hard for him too. She pulled away and picked up her purse. He watched her. She turned at the door. "I'll see you at family dinner."
It was all she could think of. That was the only statement that could keep her from losing it. It was tearing her apart but she refused to be weak in front of Peter. She ran into the humid night air. The city smelled after the rain, a mixture of trash and dirt. She exhaled the breath she's kept the whole time in his apartment. It was as if her heart had melted to nothing. She cried—over the emptiness, over her words, over his kiss—as she walked the thirty blocks to the Petrelli mansion.
What I am to you is not real
What I am to you, you do not need
What I am to you is not what you mean to me
You give me miles and miles of mountains
And I'll ask…
"Volcanoes…?"Claire asked. Monty nodded. "What kind of project?"
"A report. I have two mountain-volcanoes."
"Which two?" Claire asked.
Monty looked at his sheet. "Mt. Fugi and Paricutin."
Claire sighed and smiled. "Let's get started then," she said. Monty's face lit up.
On day two Claire sat with her brother as they listened to Hiro tell them about Mount Fuji. He told them stories of travelers, of the halfway point known as "the borderline between the heavens and the earth." "At the top, people can walk around the crater. Steam still rises from it but it has not erupted in 150 years."
"Wow," Monty said.
Hiro nodded. "In Japan, we call it Fujiyama or Fuji-san."
"What does it mean?"
"Fuji means 'fire' or 'no death' or 'never dying'. Yama and san mean 'mountain'"
Claire tensed up in her seat, no longer listening to Hiro. She laughed to herself silently. The irony of her life and this volcano killed her. Actually, it didn't—hence the irony. Claire would never die, like the mountain. She would just build up and build up until there was nothing left. Maybe, after all the inactivity, she would explode. How long would it take? 150 years? 300 years? 500 years? Would live that long, like that volcano? Never dying, no death—stuck between heaven and earth, yet living a hell of immortality, of loneliness, of life without the love she desired?
"Cheerleader Claire?" Hiro said. He was in front of her face when her eyes focused on him.
"Are you okay?"
She smiled weakly. "Of course, Hiro. Thanks for telling Monty about the volcano."
"Anytime. What ails you? You can tell Hiro. I can help you."
She shook her head. "No one can help me…"
"Peter-san can help you. He's your hero, too. I will get him," Hiro said and closed his eyes.
"Hiro, don't!" She grabbed his arm and he opened his eyes. He looked at her. "Peter won't come. Peter doesn't want to be around me. I can't be around him."
Hiro sat beside her. "I don't understand. You," he whispered, "love him. You need him now, he come."
Claire shook her head. "No. No, he won't. It's just me, Hiro. Me, forever."
What I give to you is just what I'm going through…
On day three, Claire and Monty read about a volcano near Paricutin, Mexico. "I know about the farmer—you don't have to read that," Monty said. Claire looked at him.
"Well, I don't. Let me read it to myself," she said. He nodded.
"A farmer named Dionisio thought the ground was hot. The ground began to shake and crack as smoke and steam rose from the ground. He ran into the village and warned the people that there was a monster in his cornfield. It was however, a volcano being born," Claire read.
"Are volcanoes born like babies?"
Claire shrugged and smiled. "I'm sure it's a little different."
Claire read on. "It grew through the spring and the summer until if became higher than the highest building in the world. It forced the people who lived in the village of Paricutin to run away so they wouldn't be buried under it…" Claire cleared her throat.
"It grew until it buried another town, too. During the day, the sky was black with falling ashes. At night, the sky was red with sparks and glowed with melted rock. It grew year after year until it just stopped. The volcano is still inactive."
"That's so cool," Monty exclaimed. "They melt everything they touch!"
Claire laughed at his enthusiasm.
When Claire slept that night, she dreamt of volcanoes. She was there, in Mexico. She was with Peter. They were kissing as he held her. She said she loved him and the ground started to shake, smoke rising from the ground. He looked at her as they got separated, called her name. Then he ran, he ran like everyone else. Claire just stayed, watching everything get destroyed. Everything but her. The ashes fell like rain, glowed with melted rock and sparks. Claire sat in the lava, praying that it would drown her and kill her. It didn't of course, it just melted over her. She screamed out pain, screamed his name, screamed from the heat, the melting of her life. No one heard her. She was alone in the ashes and melting lava, alone as the lava grew cool and stopped. Buried there, alive yet completely dead.
Claire woke up and cried in her bed.
This is nothing new….
Peter sat up in the bed. Volcanoes…he never dreamt about volcanoes before. It felt real, him dying there, alone. He moved around his apartment, thinking about his dream. Dying. No, not dying—that wasn't scary—it was being alone. This struggle was the same one he'd had for over a year. It was nothing new; it was the issue about his love for Claire. It came in different forms each time, but it always had the same meaning. He was nothing without her, lost, missing. And no one seemed to notice it but him.
"Bad dream?" Hiro asked. Peter jumped in the darkness and said a curse word.
"What are you doing here?"
"Waiting for you to wake up. I was going to make you breakfast but you ruined the surprise," he said. Peter chuckled.
"Darn. I can go back, wake up in the morning if you want to do it then."
"No," Hiro shook his head. "It was supposed to be a surprise. It won't be the same."
"I can pretend. I'm good at that. I'll just act surprised."
"Your heart won't be in it," Hiro said, following Peter to the kitchen.
"It's not in anything anymore."
Peter poured a glass of water. Hiro watched him. "Because of cheerleader Claire?" Peter didn't respond.
"I haven't seen you in a while," Peter said weakly. "It's good to see you buddy…but why are you here?"
"I thought you might need someone to talk to," Hiro said quietly. "I know it's not easy."
"I don't want to talk about it Hiro."
Hiro nodded. "You do. You can't go through it alone."
Peter shook his head and sat down beside him. "There's nothing, Hiro. There's nothing to talk about. I know it's the right thing to do." Hiro looked at him. "But it feels wrong, like some part of me is missing."
"Sometimes destiny is bigger than we know. I saw her earlier this week. I think she feels the same way you do, missing, lost." Peter shifted at his words. Hiro paused. "Maybe that missing part is—"
"Don't." Peter put up his hand. "It will just make it harder." Peter sighed. "Can we talk about something else?"
Hiro bowed his head. "Anything you want."
Peter closed his eyes and laid his head back.
"I'm making waffles," Hiro said in a singsong voice.
Peter smiled but kept his eyes shut. "She's not doing well?"
"About as good as you are friend. Only she hides it better," Hiro replied. Peter sighed. "Waffle, up." Peter opened his eyes and moved his plate telekinetically in front of him.
"Thanks, Hiro." He said as his friend sat beside him. "For everything."
"No problem, Peter-san. I'm always a friend. Here to help you both," he smiled.
"And make waffles."
"Good waffles."
Peter let himself smile at Hiro. He made himself stay on the couch and tried to force his mind not to wander to Claire. He failed.
…No, no, just anther phase in finding
What I really need,
Is what makes me bleed;
And like a new disease
she's still too young to treat
Like a distant tree
Volcanoes melt me down
The tree was there in the distance. He was running toward it. It was so far and he was tired of running. But he couldn't make his body stop running. Claire was there, under that tree and he had to reach her. He yelled her name. He could see her on the ground. She was bleeding, hurting; she needed him. He yelled her name again but she didn't respond. She couldn't hear him. She wasn't moving either. She looked dead, but that wasn't possible. She couldn't die. He was close now, only a few feet away. "Claire!" He touched her face. It was cold and pale and so unlike his Claire.
"Peter-san, wake up," Hiro said. Peter jumped up from the couch. Hiro stared at him. "Are you okay? You feel asleep after waffles. You were yelling Cheerleader Claire's name."
Peter looked around the room. "I was?" Hiro nodded. "It felt so real. I couldn't make it to her. Then, when I did—it was too late." Peter paced the floor toward the glass of water on the counter. He slammed it down harder than he'd intended. "I'm so fucking screwed up! I'm in love with my damn niece." Peter paused. He'd never said it out loud before. Now it was so real and unavoidable. "This is impossible, Hiro."
"It's not impossible. It's love. I hear it feels like impossibility sometimes, but it's obtainable."
Peter scoffed. "Well, most love stories don't involve incest."
Hiro shrugged. "Each story is unique. You cannot compare one to another. It's like Batman and Spiderman. They are both trying to save the world, stop the bad guy. They do it in different ways but it gets accomplished. They each have villains to defeat and trials to overcome and weaknesses, but they always win."
"So, are you saying I'm batman?" Peter asked.
"No. You would not be batman. Everyone wants to be batman…" Hiro paused. "You would be more of a Spiderman. 'Your greatest strength is also your greatest weakness.' This is true for you."
"Claire?"
"You are strong with her, you are weak with her. Also, Nathan, Angela. Everyone in your life, even myself."
Peter sat on the couch with a sigh.
"What do you want?" Hiro asked Peter. Peter looked at him.
"Claire asked me that."
"What did you say?" Hiro asked.
"I lied to her." Peter said simply.
"What did you want to say?"
Peter sighed. It was deep, silent. "I wanted to tell her that I love her. That I want to be with her. I've always wanted that." Hiro opened his mouth but Peter started again. "I couldn't say that. She's seventeen. She's young. I'm her uncle. It's wrong…yet, nothing else feels right. I hate not being with her. There's just something missing. And she thinks that I don't care about her—that hurts and it's not true."
"Go tell her. Before it's too late."
Peter nodded weakly and thought about what Hiro said. His words were true but he knew that he couldn't walk out that door.
"Claire, are you sure this is what you want to do?" Nathan asked quietly as his daughter packed her last bag.
"Yes," she said, not meeting his gaze.
"Ma doesn't have control over you. You can stay. Paris isn't something you have to do…"
"Nathan, it's not forever. Besides, Angela's right. I'm missing something in my life and I need to find it. It's not here or in Costa Verde," Claire said calmly. She knew it was lie. She knew what she needed.
"If you change your mind, you can stay. Come back anytime. The boys will miss you; Heidi will miss you. Everyone will," he said. He grabbed her arm. "I'll miss you." He hugged his daughter and she loosened in his arms. "I love you, Claire."
"I love you, too."
She didn't want to leave. Everything inside of her screamed out to stay. But it was too hard. Peter taught her to accept things, not to run away from problems. She did that for as long as she could. He was running too, now. That gave her the right to run.
And run she would. Fast and far away from Peter Petrelli.
Volcanoes melt you down…
Claire was quiet. Her flight was leaving in just a few hours. The horror of that was eating at her. Maybe this was the wrong decision. Her screams from her dream played over and over in her head. There was no one to hear her; no one who cared enough to stop. She was doing it to herself. She was doing it right now.
Paris was so far away. There would be no one who even knew she was trying to scream, to get up off the ground, move away from the lava and the falling ashes. She was going to die in that place, if she wasn't dead already.
Peter wouldn't know. He wouldn't see her. Wouldn't hear her. Wouldn't even care that she was screaming, like in that dream. She looked at her watch. One hour. In one hour she would leave for the airport. Peter hadn't even stopped by to say goodbye. He hadn't called. Hadn't emailed. Hadn't texted her. Nothing. It was as if she was invisible.
She's still too young…
Peter didn't know what was happening. He'd called the house three times and each time his mother said no one was around. Hiro told him that Claire was going to Paris on Friday. That was today. And no one answered the phone today. He wanted to go there but what then? What would he say? He didn't know if he could handle the rejection. Even worse, he didn't know if he could handle her not being there when he teleported in. That would kill him.
He debated with himself. He knew he loved Claire. He knew Claire loved him. He knew all the bad things too, the things that would keep them apart. Her blood…his brother…her fathers…her age. She was so young.
"Screw this," Peter said to himself. He grabbed his jacket and opened the door.
What I am to you…
Claire stood in his doorway. He didn't move. They just stared at each other softly. Neither spoke. They didn't have to.
"Claire…"
"I'm on my way to the airport. I wanted to tell you goodbye."
"You're going?" Peter's expression dropped.
She nodded. "There's nothing keeping me here. Not really." She silently prayed he would stop her.
"Oh. I was just—"
"Why didn't you call me? Or visit? Or text me or email me? Something. You knew I was leaving and I've been really pissed at you all week." Claire's words stumbled over each other on their way out of her mouth. They came out faster and louder than she intended.
"I was just on my way to…" he wanted to say stop. "see you." She nodded slowly.
They stared at each other in the silence.
"I guess I should leave. I don't want to miss my flight," Claire said. She wanted to put herself in his arms but she couldn't do it. Instead she just smiled that sad little smile that he knew from years ago and turned around.
You do not need…
"Claire," He said her name. It rolled off his tongue like something that belonged so perfectly. She looked at him. "Why are you going?"
She inhaled. "It's just for a little while, a month or so. I need to get away."
Peter nodded and moved toward her. "But why? I don't want you to go."
"Peter."
"I don't. I need you, Claire."
She looked at him with tears in her eyes. "You don't need me."
He shook his head. "I do. Claire, I need you like I need water. Trust me, I know. I'm not me without you." He took her hand and pulled her into his apartment. The door closed behind them.
Its not real…
"Peter, I have to go to Paris. It's the only way."
"The only way to what?" he asked her.
She twirled her finger in her hair and he put his hand in her free one. She moved closer to him. "It won't help, Claire. You'll still feel the same way. You taught me that I can't run away. You can't either."
She stared at him. "I'm not running away, Peter."
"You are. But you don't have to…" their lips were inches apart. He could feel her breathe on his chin. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere. Do you know what I want Claire?"
"No, not at all," she whispered.
"I want to be with you. Every day. Every night. For the rest of forever. I'm in love with you, Claire."
I kissed your mouth…
"What about everyone else? Everything else?" Claire asked quietly.
"I don't care. I only need you," Peter said.
Without another thought, another word she kissed him. Passionately, silently. His lips felt so right with hers. He kissed her neck and she moaned at his touch. She threw her jacket to the floor beside his. Her purse followed. Then her shirt.
His kisses travelled down her neck, down her back. She ran her hands through his hair. "I love you," he whispered.
She stopped and looked at him. "You can sleep on the bed." She smiled at the look on his face. "With me."
Claire missed her flight. She would deal with it later. Not that it mattered anyway. Once all the smoke cleared and the ash stopped falling, Peter would be there. No one else mattered.
Volcanoes melt you down...
Steam still rises from it but it has not erupted in 150 years.
-
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A/N: That's the end. I hope it works. I was iffy on the ending but please let me know what you think!
Also, side note…another author and I are co-writing a story. We need a third party who would want to write a Nathan/Tracy storyline. If you want more information, let me know. We'll chat about it…