Chapter 2
Peter came to check on me after I sat in my bedroom doing homework for an hour, and asked how I was doing. "Fine," I insisted, and he sat down on the edge of my bed, eyeing me curiously. "what?" I shrugged, setting my pencil on the desk, and he presented me with the blood-stained paper towel I'd tossed earlier. "Oh." my shoulder slumped a little. "I thought I managed to get rid of all the evidence."
"You know I hate when you do this, Claire," Peter continued, and I chewed on my lower lip. "It's risky, even if you're here at home."
"I know," I replied. "I just..." I shrugged. "I'm so afraid of waking up one day and finding it's all a dream. I used to record myself on video while I still lived in Texas...before the accident at homecoming."
Peter crumpled the paper towel in his hand, and looked down at my rug for a moment. He then encouraged me to come into his arms, and without another word he held me close. I clutched his shirt, tears filling my eyes with frustration.
"And you got sick," I whispered, and my Uncle released his grip, allowing me to sit down again. "that wasn't supposed to happen. Not with my living here."
"Don't blame yourself for that," Peter begged. "that wasn't your fault. Remember, I absorb whatever powers I come in contact with, so it doesn't matter whether you're near me or not. I'm still learning how to control everything, but it's hard. Trust me, I of all people know how hard it is not to show people what you can really do." he smiled. "but it'll be okay. Trust me, all right?"
I sniffed and wiped my eyes, feeling stupid. "I just...you were having so much trouble breathing, and I thought..." I paused. I didn't want to even bring up the idea that he could have died, but it was in the back of my mind anyway.
"I'm fine now," Peter insisted. "I'm going to be okay. I don't want you to worry about me when there isn't any reason." he kissed my forehead comfortingly. "Just focus on your schoolwork, and try not to cut yourself anymore, please?" he gave me a pleading look, one I couldn't fight against.
"I won't," I insisted, and he nodded with approval.
"Good." his focus drifted to Munchkin's bowl, and I moved my chair so he could feed the fish a pinch if food from the container sitting behind my algebra book.
"Thanks," I laughed, and he gave my shoulder a pat.
"Hang in there," he encouraged, and I watched as he left, before looking at the page my teacher assigned for that night. Nothing algebra-related made sense, a bunch of numbers jumbled together in different patterns.
When I couldn't handle homework any further, I joined Peter in the living room for a little while. He sat staring at the blank TV screen, and I sat down beside him.
"Peter, I'm sorry," I insisted, and he shook his head. "I am happy here in New York. I like living with you, a lot. It's nice being with someone who understands what I'm going through, who doesn't look at me like I'm some kind of rat in a cage that has to be studied."
Peter glanced at me, and I squeezed his arm gently. "I just feel like no matter what I do it's not enough," he admitted, and I frowned. "I wanted you to be able to have a normal life here, to feel comfortable. I feel like all I've done is make you more anxious than before."
"I don't think that's ever going to be possible for us," I replied honestly. "to live a completely normal life, because of who...what we are." I looked down at the ring on my thumb, given to me by my father, Mr. Noah Bennet, for Christmas last year. I rarely took it off, only when in the shower or going to bed.
Peter wet his lips, and I sighed, hugging my knees to my chest. "Claire..." he looked at me again. "please don't take this the wrong way, but you would rather be with your Dad, wouldn't you?"
"Nathan?" I asked, my eyes wide. "I barely know him! How could I..."
"Not Nathan," Peter corrected. "Mr. Bennet. Trust me, Nathan hasn't been in your life long enough to be considered a real father figure. I may be a guy in most aspects of my life, but I know that much."
I chewed on my lower lip, and leaned against his shoulder, feeling drained and weary. "I do miss my family," I agreed. "but I know I'm safer here right now. And I appreciate that you cared enough to take me in. I know it can't be easy living with a sixteen year old girl."
Peter laughed for the first time all night, and hugged me once more. "You're really something, munchkin." he shook his head. "get some sleep, huh? It's late."
I kissed his cheek comfortingly, and insisted he not worry. "I'll see you in the morning," I promised, and he gave me another weak smile.
"Good night," he announced, and I headed for the bathroom. I took a shower, lifting my face so the warm water could wash over my forehead and cheeks. I hated putting Peter in this position, where he felt like he wasn't in control. It was bad enough he struggled trying to juggle all of his powers, but then he had to worry about me on a regular basis. When I lived in Texas, and after he saved me at the homecoming dance, Peter explained he didn't understand how he knew she was in danger. "I just knew I had to save you so the world could be saved," he told me, and I remember being so confused.
To this day, I still can't figure out what importance I had in saving the world.
Hearing Peter cough in the distance, I jolted back to reality, and finished bathing.
I put on my pajamas, and crawled under the covers once the clock changed to 9:30. As usual, Peter came to check on me, and I made a small noise when he pulled the covers closer to my chin.
"I really am sorry," I whispered, and it was his turn to frown.
"What for, munchkin?" he asked, pulling the desk chair so he sat beside the bed, and I looked at him.
"For making you feel like you aren't doing enough for me."
Peter sighed. "Claire, that's my stuff," he replied. "it's nothing to do with you. If anyone should be sorry, it's me."
I closed my eyes, exhaustion finally hitting me all at once. Peter noticed this, and smoothed my hair away from my face. "Sleep tight," he whispered, and I listened as he left the bedroom.
I woke up the next morning, still feeling drained from our conversation last night. Peter had on his scrubs when I entered the kitchen carrying my full backpack over my shoulder.
"Hello," he greeted, and I collapsed onto one of the kitchen chairs.
"Hi," I replied, noticing the snow was falling harder than ever today. "wow!" I breathed, and Peter smiled.
"Maybe we'll be able to go sledding after all," he said, and I nodded, pouring myself a bowl of cereal once he put it on the table for me, along with the carton of milk.
"Thanks," I said, and he smiled again.
We sat eating in silence...Peter typically read the paper in the morning, and I tried my darndest not to fall asleep face first in my bowl.
When we finished, he led the way to the door, and slipped into the heaviest winter coat he owned. I put mine on as well, and we trooped into the freezing weather. My feet crunched on the snow, and it took a lot of willpower not to collapse and roll around in it like Mr. Muggles would have.
Peter usually stood a few feet away while I entered the school grounds, not wanting people to think I was pathetic, and waved goodbye. I returned the gesture, slipping a little on a sheet of black ice, but caught myself before I fell on my butt. I glanced over my shoulder and saw Peter with his eyebrow raised, and I shrugged, giving him a confident smile that I was going to be fine
No one seemed to be in any mood to pay attention to lessons, which I guess was normal on the first snow of the season.
"Is everything okay?" Angela asked while we performed our biology lab. She cringed when I made an easy, smoothe slice to the dead worm laying on the tray. "how's your Uncle?"
"Fine," I replied. "in fact, he's feeling great...I dunno. OW, shit!" I slipped with the razor blade and cut my finger. The blood began to flow quickly from the wound, and I immediately brought my finger to my mouth for a suck.
"You should go to the nurse," Angela suggested, and I was about to respond that it wouldn't be necessary when I remembered Peter's words in my head from the night before. "Please don't cut yourself anymore." This time had been an accident, but I didn't want to draw any attention to myself.
I clutched my "injured" finger with a roll of papertowels, and allowed Angela to drag me to our teacher, who wrote me a pass to see the nurse.
"Thanks," I squeaked, and when Angela offered to walk with me, I shook my head. "I'll be fine going by myself," I insisted, and she nodded, looking a little disappointed at having to stay behind in class.
I scurried out of the classroom, and in headed in the direction of the nurse's office. Pausing in step, I very carefully unwrapped the cut finger, and discovered that sure enough, the wound had healed, and the skin remained smooth as always. I ducked into the bathroom to wash off the blood, watching as it sloshed in the sink and disappeared with clean water.
Once my hand looked the same as always, I decided to wander a little, not wanting to appear suspicious. I wished I could have gone outside and enjoyed the snow, but I would more than likely get detention, and that would probably push Peter over the edge.
"Are you lost?"
I jumped when I heard someone speak, and turned to see a janitor watching me with curious eyes.
"Um...I was just er..." I paused. "on my way to the nurse." Good, Claire...smoothe, I thought.
He pointed in the opposite direction, and I gave him a grateful smile, thanking him as I passed. I could feel his gaze still on me, even when I was far enough down the hall for it not to really matter.
"Ah, Miss Petrelli...I was just getting ready to call you out of your class!" I passed the main office, and the principal stopped me in mid-stride. Confused, I looked at him, wondering what I had done.
"I'm sorry, sir," I apologized. "I cut my finger in biology, and was on my way to get a band-aid from the nurse."
"Is it bad?" Principle Walters asked, and I looked at my finger, shaking my head.
"No...I guess it looked worse when it was covered in blood." I shivered a little, and wondered what he wanted.
"Well, as long as you're not going to loose a limb, would you mind coming into my office for a moment? Someone is here who wishes to speak with you."
Oh crap, I thought, going over a million possibilities in my mind. I followed the principal hesitatingly into the front office, and he took me down the hall to a side door. My heart was racing when he turned the knob, and pulled the door open.
As soon as I got a look inside, I felt faint at the person who sat in one of the comfortable-looking leather chairs. "Dad?" I gasped, and sure enough, he stood when I came forward, and immediately pulled me into a warm embrace. "What are you doing here...how did you know?" I choked, and he smiled, adjusting his glasses.
"I saw you this morning when you came in the building," he explained. "thought I was dreaming at first, until I decided to investigate. So you're a student here now?"
I nodded, glancing uncomfortably at the principal, who sat at his desk watching us.
"Yes," I replied. "I'm living with my Uncle about a mile from here. You remember Peter Petrelli?"
"Ahhhh, of course." Dad nodded. "Mr. Walters, could you give us a few moments of privacy? I don't mean to be rude," he added, and the principal agreed to let us have our time alone. When the door to the office closed behind him, Dad sat me down, and begged me to tell him everything that had been going on since I ran away from the Haitian at the airport.
"I wanted to see my biological father," I explained. "It's Nathan Patrelli, that guy who's running for congress."
"I know," Dad answered, and I leaned back a little. Of course he knew...my father knew more about my history than I did, which was a bit disconcerning. "I was hoping not to drag you into all of that. I wish you had listened to me and left the country. It's not safe here, honey."
"I'm sixteen," I growled. "I think I'm old enough to take care of myself."
Dad gave me a look that was a mixture of amusement and aggravation. "I know that," he replied. "but there's a lot going on that you don't know about, and I'd prefer to keep it that way, until the time is right."
"Why are you here, Dad?" I asked, my voice shaking a little...I wanted Peter, I wanted my Uncle to hide behind.
"I'm here to take you home, Clairebear," he replied, and I felt my breath catch in my chest.
"Home...where?" I asked, though my words came out as though I were choking on a mouthful of rocks. Our house in Texas had been destroyed, and I didn't stay around long enough to know what new arrangements had been made for Mom and Lyle.
"California."
The response hit me like a sack of bricks, and it was all I could do not to fall out of my chair. "California," I repeated. "what part?"
"Los Angeles," Dad answered simply. "We found a house there that's bigger than the one in Texas. I found a job at an office supply store as a paper copier, about as basic as you can get."
"But what about Peter...?" I asked. California was so far, almost an entire world away from New York!
"I'll stop by after school, and we'll talk," he explained, and I swallowed. "Claire, I only want to protect you. I hate making you move all over the country, but as long as you're with us you're safe."
I'm not really safe anywhere, I thought, swallowing past a lump in my throat. The prospect of moving in with Mom, Dad and Lyle again did sound inviting, considering I had grown up in that household and felt very comfortable there. However, after discovering Dad knew more about my abilities than I thought, I felt as though they'd been keeping too many secrets. I felt almost betrayed in a sense.
"Okay." It was the only reply I could think of at the moment, and sounded so stupid. I wanted to cry, to scream, to fight against my father every step of the way to California. Angela, Rose and Megan would be devistated if I told them I was going to move, especially considering I just started at Manthattan High.
"Good girl. We should Mr. Walters back into his office before he starts getting the wrong idea."
I rolled my eyes as Dad opened the door, and the principal came back in. The two of them encouraged me to return to biology, which would end in ten minutes.
When I re-joined Angela at our table, she noticed how pale I'd become, and asked if the blood from my cut made me feel sick.
"No," I replied. "trust me...I have no problem with blood. I just..." I looked at her, hesitating to tell the truth. It would be so much easier to just slip out of Manhattan quietly, cutting any ties I had there. Peter would be devastated if he discovered I had to leave now, after our conversation regarding my comfort level here. "My Dad came back." I looked at her, unable to hold it in anymore, and she raised an eyebrow.
"Really?" she whispered, just as the bell rang, and the two of us began to shove our books into our backpacks. "where was he all this time? I thought he was dead or something, and that's why you were living with your Uncle."
"It's complicated," I replied, "but he wants me to come to California and live with him."
Angela stopped walking, and grabbed my shoulder so I practically flew backwards. "Hold up," she exclaimed. "California...as in..."
"Yeah," I laughed at the expression on her face.
"You just moved here," Angela whined. "you can't go all the way to California yet!"
I frowned. "I don't have a choice," I muttered. "I just...I didn't want to leave without saying goodbye, first."
Angela hugged me. "Well, I'm jealous," she replied. "I've wanted to go there forever."
"You'll come visit, right?" I asked, and she smiled, just as Rose called my name from down the hall, waving her hands anxiously for me to come in her direction.
"I'll try," Angela promised, and watched as I bolted off for my next class.
The rest of the day drug on so slowly, and despite the fact that snow fell steadily all afternoon, they kept us until exactly 3:15. I met my Dad outside the school gate, because he had no idea how to get to Peter's apartment.
"Let's pick up a pizza on the way," Dad suggested, and I smirked. "You can always cushion a blow like this with food."
"True," I laughed. "Uncle Peter does love to eat." I took out my cell phone, and dialed the number, looking back once more at Manhattan International High School.