Disclaimer: I don't own Heroes or any of its characters.

--

Italicized—Dream Sequence

Bold—Thoughts

"Blah... Blah... Blah..."—Talking

Chapter 3: Sentiment

Like everyone else, Claire couldn't wait until Doctor Mohinder Suresh's lecture ended. His class usually never lasted more than two hours, but not today; he seemed exceptionally long winded and purposely so, since most of what he was talking about had little relevance to the actual class itself.

Great. He's deliberately tormenting us, Claire concluded, allowing her head to drop onto her desk with a solid thump.

For two months, the visual art students at Union Wells University competed against one another for the coveted position of an intern for Petrelli Designs, one of the fastest, interactive firms to date. The hours had been grueling and the pressure had been high, but Claire was determined to claim the internship as her own.

Or, at least, I was until that imbecile of a man insulted me, she thought, feeling disgruntled.

You're still angry about that? Jesus, Claire, it's been five days since you've last seen that man and you're still angry he called you a whore? Her conscience asked.

Scoffing, Claire thought, Of course I'm still angry. And, urgh, why am I bothering to explain myself to you?

Ignoring her conscience, Claire lifted her head and brought her attention back to what Mohinder was saying; after eight weeks into the competition, he was finally going to announce the five finalists based on the submitted drawings.

Claire gnawed her on bottom lip nervously, I'm good at what I do. Why am I doubting myself? Art's my life.

Still, she had to admit to herself, although she was quite talented, she could look around the classroom and easily pick out ten students who were more talented than she was.

It's going to be a stiff competition, Claire thought, her brow creasing. But I expect no less from an elite University like Union Wells. This is the kind of environment that makes me want to push myself to the limit.

The last three years at Union Wells University had done just that, forcing an awkward, shy teenager to become aggressive and competitive. She'd studied hard and had poured her all into her work, realizing that this was her dream; a chance to work under the tutorship of a gifted designer like Peter Petrelli was a once in a life time deal. At that moment, Claire's only concern was getting her foot into the door of a renowned firm like Petrelli Designs. If she could do that, she figured she was going to be a guaranteed first pick from all of the top notch firms when she finally graduated from college the following year.

"I know you're all eager to know the results of the contest after months of hard work," Claire heard Mohinder say; she blinked and immediately directed all of her attention to him.

"Narrowing it down to five students out of a class of two-hundred students proved to be a daunting task, but I somehow pulled through. Before I proceed, however, I would like to say that you're all very talented artists; some of the most talented I've seen in awhile, but it takes more than talent to make it in this business," Mohinder fixed his gaze on Claire and she blushed, knowing what he was referring to; the fact that she'd been sleeping in his class three times this week didn't escape his knowledge.

"You're all free thinkers. You should always be willing to test the boundaries of your imagination, ensuring that we never run out of wonderful masterpieces. Everything I've said today is what I've based my final selections on," Mohinder said, choosing his words carefully. "The list of the five finalists has been placed on the bulletin board outside of the classroom. If your name is on the list, please return to the classroom for further instructions. Class dismissed."

Claire bolted to her feet and began to make her way towards the exit, but Mohinder's voice stopped her from doing so, "Miss Bennet, a word, if you will."

With an inward groan, Claire began to make her way towards Mohinder, knowing what he was going to say.

"Miss Bennet, are you feeling ill?" Mohinder started curiously.

Claire blushed again, "No, Doctor Suresh. Why do you ask?"

So, this is how she wants to play it. All right, let the games begin.

"You seem awfully tired lately, Miss Bennet. Are things well at home?" He questioned, arching a thick brow.

"I'd say so," Claire began, her eyes growing hard. "Since I live alone, Doctor Suresh."

"Oh, I see," Mohinder mumbled, suddenly feeling foolish.

"I'm sorry. It's just..." Claire paused and bit her bottom lip contemplatively. "It's just work that has me so tired."

"All right, Miss Bennet. Just please get some adequate rest at home. I don't want to see someone talented like you lose sight of what's important. You may leave," Mohinder said.

"Yeah. Bye," Claire muttered.

By the time she reached the corridor, it was packed with students jockeying for a spot near the bulletin board where the list had been posted.

"So, do you think you made the cut, Claire-bear?" A husky voice resonated from behind her just as an arm was slung over her shoulder.

Claire glanced at the boy that had just announced his presence to her and then directed her attention back to the group of students, "Psyche class out already, Zach?"

"You already know the answer, Claire. I don't know why you bother asking the same question every other day. I was bored to tears by Claude's lecture," Zach yawned. "I could barely keep my eyes open."

"You know, I don't understand why you're taking psychology when you're not all that interested," Claire commented offhandedly.

"I am interested in psychology," Zach quipped, pouting cutely. "When it's all said and done, I'm going to be the best sex therapist ever. And you, Claire-bear, are going to be the best graphic designer ever."

"I'm not so sure," Claire replied, watching as one student after the next walked away from the bulletin board, their shoulders slumped with defeat.

"So, did you make the cut?" Zach asked curiously.

"I don't know. I haven't read the list yet," Claire muttered.

"Well, you can't read it from over here. What are you waiting for?" Zach grabbed Claire by the hand and attempted to root her from her spot, but she wasn't budging.

"What's wrong?" He asked.

"I'm afraid to look," Claire muttered, feeling distraught; she watched another boy from her class walk away with the unmistakable look of failure on his face.

"Oh, my God. Did you see his face?" She exclaimed, turning to look at Zach.

"That could be me in a couple of minutes, only I probably won't be composed as the people who've already read the results before me," A look of horror dawned on her face. "Oh, God. What if I failed? What if I didn't make it?"

"Why wouldn't you make it?" Zack asked curiously.

"Well, there are at least ten other people that I can name off of the top of my head that are far better designers than I'll ever hope to be," Claire sighed, turning to look at the bulletin board again.

From her observation, three of her classmates had made the list, which meant that there were only two slots left; her heart beat quickened, "Doctor Suresh is an expert in his field. If he says my work isn't good enough, then it's over. I'll have no chance to get into a good firm after graduation."

"Jesus, stop doubting yourself," Zach huffed, taking Claire by the hand and dragging her over to the dwindling line.

"No one deserves this chance more than you. You're dedicated and hard working and you're gifted. If Doctor Suresh can't see your promise, then, well, who needs him? What he thinks doesn't mean your dream of becoming a graphic designer dies. It means that you'll continue to work your ass off and get picked up by a leading firm. Now, get your butt up there and read your name on that list."

Claire squared her shoulders and took a step forward; her head was spinning and her palms were wet with perspiration.

Everything I've worked for has brought me here now. Being accepted into this school proved that I have the drive to excel and meet my goals... but will that be enough? Do I have enough talent to turn my dreams of designing logos into a reality? Or will my dreams remain just a dream? It was finally her turn to look at the list and her legs felt like jelly.

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and exhaled.

"I can do this," she muttered, opening her eyes and placing her finger on the list of names.

She trailed her finger across the first name—Isaac Mendez—and then the next—Lori Tramell.

She was ready to read the third name listed when Zach said pointedly, "Christ, Claire. Your name is the last name on the list. See?"

"It is... It is," Claire gasped and placed her hand over her mouth.

"I did it! I did it!" She jumped up and down and hugged Zach.

Zach scoffed, "Of course you did. I never doubted you once."

"Thanks, Zach. I don't know what I'd do without you," Claire said with a laugh, feeling like a great weight had been lifted off of her shoulders.

Zach's eyes darkened, "I know what I'd do with you."

Claire flushed and then smirked, "Really? Well, I hope that consists of bending me over your knee and spanking me."

Zach grinned, "Tease."

Claire's lips quirked, "I've got to go see Mohinder for the instruction on what I'll need to do next. So, I'll see you later, okay?"

Not giving Zach the chance to reply, Claire headed towards Mohinder's classroom again, a strange feeling dancing in the pit of her stomach at the prospect of seeing Peter Petrelli again.

x-X-x

There was soft music playing in the background and Peter found himself wondering why he kept coming back to Diamond Dolls. After six torturous, long days, she was finally going to be in his arms—albeit, he was paying a hefty fee for a lap dance, but what was money when all he could think about was Kyra and those gleaming green eyes of hers?

And now that she was standing before him in the skimpy get-up she wore the first time he'd seen her, how could he possibly be expected to keep his hands to himself when her pouty mouth brought him a fresh and staggeringly powerful memory of the first night she'd kissed him?

He'd been so sure that he'd ruined his chances with her after he'd insulted her. He wasn't a fool; he'd seen the way her eyes narrowed, and the way her smooth skin flushed and the way her thick lips thinned—Dear God, what was she doing to him?

She came to stand in between his legs and began to move with the music. However, he stopped her tempting movements and dragged her into his lap. Winding his fingers through her thick, fiery hair, he yanked it, forcing her to arch her back.

"No–I–Ohhh!" Kyra cried hysterically.

He pulled her close, ignoring the way she stiffened in his embrace and loving the scent of her hair, the taste of her skin, the curves of her body—

"Kyra... Kyra... Kyra!"

Peter let out a strangled gasp and jerked away from his desk; the sound of the intercom beeping startled him awake. Groping for the button clumsily, he pressed it.

"What?" He demanded roughly.

"Uh... Mr. Petrelli?" The voice started timidly.

Sighing, Peter ran his fingers through his unkempt hair and thought, God, what's wrong with me? I'm allowing some girl to get to me?

With an inaudible huff, Peter answered, "Yes, Audrey?"

"There's a Miss Claire Bennet here to see you regarding the internship," Audrey said, quickly regaining her composure.

Inwardly cursing himself for not remembering that he was supposed to meet the five students at Union Wells University today, Peter grunted.

"Sir?" Audrey persisted, annoyance beginning to lace her tone.

"It's fine, Audrey. Send her in now," Peter answered, turning off the intercom.

Fiddling with the mess of papers that littered his desktop, Peter was slightly embarrassed that an interviewee would see how untidy his workspace was. Faintly hearing the door to his office open, he continued to straighten up his desk.

When the door was shut firmly, a distinct feminine voice cleared her throat, "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Petrelli."

Surprised by how warm the voice sounded, his fingers quieted against the papers and he looked up into a familiar pair of green eyes.

His eyes grew wide with shock and his mouth parted hungrily, "Kyra..."