A.N: So, here's the next chapter! Hopefully everyone's following okay. I know I get confused at times, I've had to write a timeline to make sure I don't slip up! I'm afraid I don't own Heroes or the Time Traveler's Wife, and any song lyrics you recognise don't belong to me, either. Betaed as always by Winter Sapphire.
Enjoy! And, not begging or anything, but I'd love to know what people think about this story, because it's my baby, so any reviews would be nice : )
"Clare, very few people meet their soulmates at age six." – Henry, The Time Traveler's Wife.
Monday, 19th December, 2005 (Peter is 24)
Peter
Christmas is an expensive time wherever you are in the world, but New York Christmases are horrendously so, as well as the added fact that everyone turns into lethal maniacs in their bid to get all their shopping done. The subways are packed, so are the buses, the cab companies are rubbing their hands in glee at all the extra fares they're getting over the holiday season.
And here's me, on the subway, packed in like a sardine in a tin can, wondering whether or not buying a present for Claire and sending it through the post all the way to Texas will arouse too much suspicion. My brother will hit me for thinking of something that stupid that could wreck his campaign, Ma will roll her eyes in that impressive way of hers and Claire's dad will probably fly all the way over here to kill me personally. And then I'd have died a horrible death without ever figuring out all the mystery behind the girl I've become so curious about.
I'm so deep in thought that I don't realise that the lights have all flickered off and everything seems to have come to a complete stop. I don't think much of it; then I realise everyone has stopped as well. No-one is moving, breathing, nothing.
I'm panicking, I don't know what's going on, nor do I really want to. I'm just considering getting off the carriage when a figure looms ominously from the far side and marches over to me. I do a mental count of how much money I have in my wallet and begin to get it out in advance.
"Peter Petrelli?"
I then realise this guy is Asian, has a funny shaped goatee and is carrying a sword.
"You look different without the scar, I'm sorry. My name is Hiro Nakamura; I'm from the future."
My brain goes into overload….scar? The future? This triggers off thoughts of Claire and how she seems to know so much about me; is she from the future? Is this some elaborate trick; am I being filmed?
"Wait," I seem to have retained the ability to speak, "Do you know Claire? Is this some sort of trick? Did she set this up? I don't understand."
Hiro doesn't seem to either, as his quizzical expression tells me he doesn't know what I'm on about. I contemplate running for it, but he begins talking again.
"You're the only one that can save the world, Peter. You have to save her."
Wait, what? "Save who?"
"The cheerleader. Save her, save the world."
"I don't understand!"
"You will." He does this funny little bow before doing a sharp turn and walking down the other end of the carriage again.
Frustration reaches its peak inside of me. "Wait!"
"Save the cheerleader, save the world!" He shouts back; it sounds awfully ominous, and I feel as if something life-changing has just taken place.
What cheerleader? And why me?
---
Saturday, 25th March 2006. (Claire is 16).
~"Far, far, there was this little girl, she was praying for something to happen to her."~
Claire
"What the hell do you think you're doing up there, Claire?"
I ignore Zach and continue my climb up the oil rig. He's seen the basics, and now it's time to go even bigger.
"Just make sure the camera's turned on!" I yell down; my shoe gets caught on the ladder momentarily and I struggle to get up, fingers slipping on the metal.
"You'll get yourself killed!"
I turn my head awkwardly from my position to quirk an eyebrow at him. "Really?" I ask. Considering everything I've been putting my body through the last week or so, I highly doubt this fall will kill me.
Zach shuts up; good plan on his part, really. Nothing he's going to say is stopping me from jumping off this oil rig. Hell, even if Peter came and tried to stop me, I wouldn't…
But Peter has a wife out there somewhere, he doesn't need me. The harsh reality still hurts, and I blink back sudden tears stinging my eyes. I don't need him, either.
I've reached the top now, sneakers squeaking on the grid. I look down, take a breath; this fall should kill me. It should. Maybe it still will, I've never tried this before.
My eyes are fixated on the ground below. I brush my hair out of my eyes and call, "Camera on?"
I don't dare look up at Zach; I might lose my nerve if I do.
"Yeah!" Comes his response, "But I don't know exactly why you want to –"
The rest of his words fade away because if I don't jump now I'll climb back down that ladder and run all the way home. I climb over the railings and let my fingers slip. The ground rushes towards me, faster, faster, faster. I'm screaming, the world is spinning and then…
Everything stops. I hear a voice, blurry at first, then clearer and louder.
"Oh, my God, Claire! This is - this is…are you ok?!"
Zach sounds frantic. I look up to a camera pointing at my face. I'm bleeding, my arm is killing me so I pop it back into place. Something crunches and I try not to think how many bones are broken. With great effort, I lift myself off the ground; my cheerleading uniform is ruined and I don't know how I'm going to explain it away to my parents.
"This is Claire Bennet," I mutter towards the camera, "and that was attempt number six."
Six. This is the sixth time I've effectively tried to kill myself. It doesn't help that Peter can do what I can do; he's not here now. I need to figure this out on my own.
Five minutes later, Zach and I are walking back to my house. He's excited, bouncing around telling me how cool it is. I'm busy wondering how I'm going to keep all this a secret from my parents.
"Zach," I finally cut into his excited monologue. "I don't care right now. Look at me, I'm a freak! I've broken, like, every bone in my body, stabbed myself, shoved a metal bar through my neck and I don't have a scratch on me!"
"Then…what's that there?" He points to my waist and I look and it's a rib, protruding out. I sigh and push it back in; Zach winces.
"Let's go home," I say dejectedly, trudging along the path. I'm tired and bloody, and I want Peter. I want him to tell me that it's all going to be ok.
---
Wednesday, 4th April 2006. (Claire is 16, Peter is 29)
~"Take a look at my body, look at my hands. There's so much here that I don't understand."~
Peter
I land with a thump in the orchard. I blink, confused. I hadn't meant to end up here, not this time. One minute I was in bed, Claire sleeping soundly next to me, and the next…
I shrug the thought away; Hiro tells me these glitches can happen every now and again. I brush the dirt off my clothes and walk into the clearing. To my surprise, Claire is there in all her 16 year old glory. I think of my Claire asleep in our bed and bury emotion to the bottom of my heart.
She hasn't seen me so I creep up behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder. She jumps, eyes like a rabbit caught in the headlights. I chuckle and sit down next to her, "I didn't mean to startle you."
Claire just shrugs, "S'ok."
I frown. She's quiet today, quieter than usual, arms wrapped around herself and a sad expression on her face. I wonder if I've done something wrong.
"Claire?"
The rest of my question stays unformed because she opens her mouth to speak, then shuts it again. I can almost see the inner conflict going on inside her head.
I stretch my legs out on the grass, enjoying the early April sun that filters through the trees. I wait for her.
"Will you beat someone up for me?"
I blink rapidly. That's not what I expected. "What?"
"I want you to beat someone up for me." She's wringing her hands inside her lap, looking down at the floor. She hasn't looked at my face since I got here.
"Ok…" I say softly, indulging her. "Why?"
It's then that Claire bursts out crying and flings herself onto me. Befuddled and worried, I stroke her back and press a hesitant kiss to her brow.
These emotions change as she launches into her story; a quarterback, an after-game celebration, a situation that went too far. My hands squeeze into knuckles behind her back, jealousy isn't the first sensation to come to the fore.
"Jackie and the others, I was fed up of them telling me I was frigid 'cause I never had boyfriends. It was to shut them up," It feels like Claire's trying to apologise to me and an epiphany dawns.
Claire, my beautiful, tear-stained Claire loves me. I smile weakly. "It's not your fault," I say, cursing the rules that I can't tell her our future there and then.
But then she tells me what happened next. She ended up waking up in a morgue with her chest flayed open. The bastard had killed her.
Claire's still clinging to my chest, taking sanctuary in my shirt, and I know I am going to hurt a boy called Brody. He doesn't know what he's started.
"Where can I find him?"
---
The boy isn't hard to find, he's stayed at school late after a practise. Claire leads me through the hallways that I already remember and to the steps that I definitely remember; remember running up and shouting at Claire to go, leave, find people.
Claire is looking at me and I smile, calculated. "He's all yours, darling."
I'm hidden behind a locker stack when I see Claire and the bastard walk past; she is giggling and brushing her hair behind her ear. His hand is dangerously low around her waist and anger burns within me. She catches my eye briefly; I nod and follow silently behind them.
A few hours later
Claire causes a rather spectacular car crash. My heart leaps into my throat when the convertible slams into a wall, bursting into flames instantaneously. I run towards the wreckage and pull her from it; she smells of oil and smoke and her hair is alight, little sparks of flame dancing around her face. She still looks beautiful.
From the passenger seat, I hear a moan and Brody is there, looking worse for wear. I reach in and pull him out with me.
Claire gives me a look. "What are you doing?"
"Making sure you don't get charged for murder," I reply, leaning the unconscious boy against a tree and checking his injuries. He'll live, unfortunately. "Call 911." I hand her my mobile.
She does so reluctantly. "He killed me," she retorts softly.
"I know," I reply. We look at each other, I long to take her into my arms, and a moment passes.
---
Friday, 19th June 2009. (Peter is 29, Claire is 19)
Claire
I'm awakened by Peter kissing me softly. My bleary eyes open. I'm annoyed, I like sleep, but Peter's got a certain look on his face and I realise his side of the bed is cold.
"Where did you go?" I ask as he slips back underneath the sheets. He looks at me, tracing the contours of my face.
"April 06."
A moment of understanding passes between us. "Thank you," I whisper.
"It was my pleasure," he answers, kissing me again.
---
9th October 2000. (Claire is 10, Peter is 24)
Peter
---
I groan, lifting my head up from the dusty ground and blinking.
..Wait.
Dust? Ground? What the hell?
I jump up and blink a couple of more times, taking in my surroundings. Gone is my apartment, my Christmas shopping, the skyline of New York. Hello to an open plane of grass, cloudy skies and not a skyscraper in sight.
I'm not in Kansas anymore…I think, trying to remember if I'd jumped on a plane in between getting home and collapsing on the sofa for a nap. It doesn't even feel like December here. What the hell just happened?
I hear movement coming from a clump of bushes nearby. I sigh, sitting on the edge of a little hill, gazing out at the view before me. It's quite pretty; really, there's a small town I can see not far off. I wonder if I should go there and ask where I am…
"Peter!"
…Or maybe somebody already knows.
I turn my head, frowning when I realise the person who's called my name is a small girl, who promptly flings her arms around my neck and pronounces:
"I'm so happy you're here! I've got so much to tell you about school, and Lyle and –"
"Whoah," I cut in, shuffling back as far as I can and putting my hands in the air. "No offence, kid, but who are you?"
The girl cocks her head sideways like I've just gone mental. I think I might have…or this is some sort of crazy dream. Then it hits me. I've seen those green eyes and blonde hair before…but it can't be…
"Claire?" I ask, incredulous.
"Yes, stupid." Claire rolls her eyes, and I recognise that attitude anywhere.
I'm sitting God-knows where with a girl I met a month ago…but when I met her she was definitely not this young.
"Erm." I rub the back of my neck – nervous habit, and at this moment, I was very anxious – "Mind telling me how exactly I got here? Last time I saw you, you were…more grown up than this and I was in New York. Where am I and how am I talking to you, here?"
Claire's eyes widen and her mouth forms a silent, 'oh', expression, kneeling down opposite me and placing her hands in her lap. I wait for a moment as she frowns.
"Where are you coming from?"
I stare at her blankly.
She sighs, "What date is it where you are?"
"19th December, 2005," I answer as she nods.
"You've just found your powers," she states, grinning triumphantly like she's just announced I've won an Olympic Gold. I really wish the latter had happened right now.
"I…what?" My head is whirring: what power? Could this have anything to do with the freaky, Japanese guy I'd met earlier?
Claire bites her lip, moving her legs from under her to sit cross-legged on the grass. "You can…time travel, I guess. That's what you've always told me. You appear at different places and times randomly, and you can't usually control what you do, 'cause it's like…hard."
My brain is trying to process this information, but all I can really register is…
"Always?"
At this, Claire looks at me sadly. "I've known you since I was six…I've never had this happen before. You don't know me."
Ok, this is a little hard to take in. I'm glad I'm sitting down. My head is reeling…powers, time travel, a random girl coming up to me in New York acting like she knew me…
"That's why," I mutter to myself, "It all makes sense." I look up to Claire who's glancing at me hopefully.
A thought pops into my mind, probably not the best one at that present moment, but I give it a shot.
"Can I fly?" I feel childishly excited about the answer she's going to give, and rejoicing over the possible opportunity to laugh in Nathan's face when I get back.
She nods gleefully, launching into a recount of a time I took her flying for her 8th birthday. I file that bit of information away for when I do see Claire when she's 8, and laugh in spite of everything that's going on.
I find myself being swept away in conversation, Claire helping me learn more about my powers and what it might all mean. We're halfway through a semi-heated debate about whether or not I actually am the male version of Rogue from X-Men, when I'm suddenly back in my apartment in New York, and my cell is buzzing so hard on the coffee table, it falls off.
Letting my vision right itself first, I pick it up, glancing down at the screen. Three missed calls from Claire, one from my brother and another from my mother. I ignore the one from Ma, it's never anything important. I contemplate phoning either Claire or Nathan first.
I decide to send Claire a text, still quite overwhelmed by everything that's happened and excited at the same time.
You'll never guess who I bumped into today – P
And then I dial my brother's number, walking out of my apartment door to find the nearest rooftop to jump off. The look on his face will be priceless.