Chapter Two
Costa Verde. A beautiful, sunny place, where beaches were turned into personal havens for teenagers, where it seemed everything was right. The raven-haired spirit tucked his hands in his pockets as he strolled around.
Sunny places were never a big hit for Peter; he was always the kid who stayed inside most of the time. Although a spirit, the young Petrelli was clothed with a black t-shirt and jeans. Shoes sometimes disappeared through thin air, but at that moment he was dressed in full regalia.
In the sunny place, he didn't shed his shirt, for he felt no heat, no beating sun upon his dark hair, just the normal warm air that engulfed him every second. Peter walked past an old woman with stringy white hair with, Peter assumed her ten-year-old grandson.
With every stranger, Peter had a naïve thought that maybe they could see him, like some Just Like Heaven, a movie he grudgingly went through with Simone, crap. But no, that didn't happen.
He walked towards Claire Bennet's home. It was a normal-looking home, in a nice neighborhood. It had white-washed walls and a parked car in front of it. A Nissan Rogue. He saw a blonde figure emerging from it. His heart jumped at the sight. It was Claire. He saw her open the door of her home, and eagerly followed her.
As soon as he saw the door close, he phased through it and his carefully behind the Bennet's couch. He wasn't being silly; he just thought if Claire could see him, it should at least be a surprise.
"Claire-bear, you're home," Peter heard a man talk from the kitchen. Noah Bennet. Peter tried to picture the man, with his infamous pair of horn-rimmed glasses.
"Hi, Dad," Peter could distantly hear Claire's bag plopping on a chair.
"How was school?" Noah asked his daughter.
"It was fine," Claire said.
A little of her sentence was said with ignorance, a tone Peter had never heard on Claire.
"Claire, I know it's been a hard few months, since Peter died..." Noah's voice died out. "I know you cared about him, Claire. But I need you to know, I'll always be here."
Peter could almost see Claire crack a smile as she said, "Thanks, Dad."
"I'm going out, I have work to do," Noah said. "I love you, Claire."
Peter could see Noah leave the house from the corner of his eye. He decided it was time to see Claire, to tell her he didn't die, he was still there.
In the kitchen, he saw the petite blonde cry with her hands covering her hands. She was crying for him. "Claire," Peter said, a silent breath. He longed to tell her to not cry, to hold her and say everything was alright. But all those dreams came crashing down as he saw that Claire didn't respond. Claire was just like the others; she couldn't see him, hear him, feel him.
Oh great.
Peter decided to have a stroll around the house. It was big, with more than enough room for the Bennets. Pictures of a fluffy dog hung on the wall, among others. He spotted a room that had a big sign over it, reading, 'Claire.'
Peter, ever the curious man, opened the door and saw what seemed to be Claire's refuge. Memories, much like Nathan's, sat on her table. Peter gravitated towards them. A few pictures of the Bennet family, and that darn dog again, a picture of a gawky-looking teenage boy who Peter took to be Zach, who he heard Claire mention a couple of times.
But what attracted him the most was the picture of Claire and Peter. It sat on top of the cupboard, above a hung outfit. A familiar red-and-white uniform that still gave Peter a smile.
Claire was smiling, glowing actually, her arms around the older man. Peter still had his bangs then, that, conveniently, didn't follow him to afterlife. The picture gave Peter an indescribable emotion, like butterflies multiplied by ten.
He couldn't help smiling at Claire, at what they had. Their hero/damsel relationship. Memories seemed to overflow him. Homecoming night, the night in the jail cell, where all he could think of was Claire's smile, the time during the explosion, when Claire desperately.
He finally realized the feeling. Nathan had described it when he married Heidi, his college friends had explained it to him. It was love.
Peter spent a few more moments in Claire's room but stopped his thoughts of his niece when he heard the door of the Bennet home opening. Perhaps it was Noah coming back. Peter walked downstairs, but didn't see Noah.
He saw Claire, wrapped in the arms of a dark-haired teen. Peter's insides burned at the sight, for he thought he was the only one that should hold her like that.
"Thanks for coming, West," Claire said.
"No problem. It sounded like you really needed a friend," the boy, West, said.
West looked like the good guy, the one that would always go to save the day. He was okay-looking, too tall for his age, though.
Claire and West sat on the couch, as Peter sat just beside Claire. "It's just been a few hard months without him, you know," she said. Tears began rolling down the petite blonde's face.
Peter had the same sensation he had when she previously cried, that he wanted to hold her. He longed for that moment that would never come.
The moment where Peter would find Claire in his arms, kiss the top of her head and indulge himself in the fresh strawberry scent Claire emitted. But that longing got cut as he saw West do the one thing he wanted to do; embrace Claire.
If Peter wasn't already a spirit, he wanted to kill himself at the moment. Or even better, kill West.
A/N: I'm on a roll here! And dozens of thanks to my best friend, Ira, who helped. You know what to do: Review!