Ah, another way-too-long chapter *cheer*! One day I'll make them shorter, just not today. I finally got in something about how Bella's shielding ability works (see book 3 of BD for some of the technical stuff), so no more throwing fruit, punches, or anvils at me!

Chapter 6: Decode Me, Pt. 1

"Hey, Dad!" I called, trying to modulate my voice to the appropriate pitch for someone who'd just come home from a perfectly normal afternoon with a new friend and hadn't had any life-altering revelations all day.

Charlie turned away from the TV and stared at me, his face a mask of shock. I looked down and checked to make sure my pants hadn't fallen down before realizing what the problem was; in my attempt to sound normal, I had put too much emotion into my voice. Naturally, Charlie was floored by hearing me sound almost happy after months of me speaking in a dull monotone. "Hey, Bells. Did you…have a good time?" he asked cautiously.

"Yeah, Claire and I- um, we ate raw cookie dough," I blurted, scrambling to come up with some detail of my visit that wasn't confidential.

"Sounds like fun." I felt the beginnings of a guilty flush creep over my face – I really had been out of it for so long that when I woke up, my own father couldn't talk to me without edging around as if checking for landmines! I could have slapped myself, but instead I hurried into the kitchen to fix dinner.

###

The uncomfortable feeling of disharmony in my world persisted through the night, made it hard for me to fall asleep, and intensified when I walked into my first period English class. I'd managed to be late enough that there was no one left in the halls (unfortunately this also meant I was late enough that Mr. Berty had already started his lecture, earning me a dirty look from him as I slunk in), but that was as long as my luck held.

The class consisted of nineteen students, all of whom glanced up at me as I entered; obviously the news had spread that the school's resident zombie had come back to life after yesterday's lunchroom fiasco. Pretending I didn't notice the eyes on me, I practically ran for my seat – and tripped over someone's bag. I caught myself on the empty desk next to mine, only to look up and see that it wasn't empty anymore.

"Hey, Bella," Claire said brightly as I collapsed into my seat.

"Hi," I mumbled back; I would've liked to say more – perhaps something along the lines of 'what are you doing in this class?', but Mr. Berty called everyone to order before I had the chance. I kept my eyes glued to the textbook for about a minute, trying to give an impression of contrition after bursting in late and causing a disruption, before daring a glance at my new neighbor.

She had her elbow on her desk, head leaning on her hand, which allowed her to look sideways at me and down at her book simultaneously. Taking advantage of the fact that she wasn't ignoring me completely, I scribbled on my notebook and then tilted it so she could read, Not that I'm not happy to see you, but I thought you had English at a different time. How did you get here?

Claire shuffled her own notebook on top of her book, wrote something short, and showed me her response. I flew.

Ha-ha, you can't fly. Can you?

I wish, but no. I switched my first period biology class for this since I had bio last year, and no, I didn't know you were in here when I made the switch. Although I'm not sorry you are – I'd rather sit by you.

Why, who were you stuck next to in bio?

Where do you think I met Lauren Mallory yesterday?

I winced sympathetically; then we quickly put our notebooks down before Mr. Berty realized we were writing to each other instead of taking notes on Poe.

When the bell rang, Claire dashed off to the front office, explaining that she was still sorting out her schedule with Mrs. Cope. I didn't know what changes she needed to make, but I hoped she might get into more of the same classes as me; I much preferred her company to that of my other classmates, as the majority of them kept the same careful distance from me that Charlie had last night. Notable exceptions were Lauren, who seemed overtly dismayed that I was 'back', Angela, who quietly told me at lunch that she'd missed me, and Mike, who resumed his former position as my perpetual partner in the dreaded gym class.

His resolve wavered when Coach Clapp announced that we would be playing softball for the next week – I saw the color drain from Mike's face and knew he was imagining the damage I could do with a bat. "You know, Mike, you're free to bail on this one if you want," I offered quietly. "I won't hold it against you."

"Um, I think I will," he said, clearly relieved. "Hey, you and that new girl, Claire, hit it off pretty good, right? Maybe she'll be your partner." I followed Mike's gaze and saw Claire coming out of the locker room with Jessica, both in their gym shorts and t-shirts.

"Yeah, maybe so," I agreed. After all, who better to pair up with in gym than someone who couldn't get hurt?

Claire happily obliged when I asked her to be my softball partner; Jessica, however, leaned in to warn her in a stage whisper, "I wouldn't let Bella swing a bat anywhere close to me if I were you," before jogging off to join Katie Marshall in the farthest possible corner from me.

"What did she-?" Claire started to ask, but I shook my head.

"You'll see soon enough," I said glumly. "Let's just say you'll probably be glad you've got that spontaneous regeneration before class ends."

Coach Clapp had us take turns pitching and batting; I gave Claire the bat first, eager to postpone injuring her or myself as long as I could. Of course I wasn't much better at pitching than batting, and only rarely managed to throw the ball anywhere near my partner; luckily, Claire more than made up what I lacked in athletic ability and always hit the ball back to me – even when she had to jump sideways to do it.

My turn at bat wasn't as bad as it might have been – I only connected bat and ball twice, but I didn't connect the bat with anything else either – at least not until the final minutes of playing time, when I ducked to avoid getting hit by the incoming ball, losing my balance. I stopped myself from falling, but in doing so I accidentally swung my bat in a wide arc and gave Claire a resounding smack on the nose. Cartilage crunched audibly and blood sprayed everywhere, bringing Coach Clapp over at a run. "What happened here?" he barked.

"I tripped," I admitted. "As I was getting back up, I sort of swung my bat around…"

"I think my nose is broken," Claire whimpered, sounding on the verge of tears. I was horrified – shouldn't her nose be healing?

Coach Clapp moved closer to look at the injury, but when he tried to touch her nose Claire jerked away.

"Don't poke it; that just makes it hurt worse!" she howled. "I need to go to the nurse for ice or something!" She ran out of the gym, covering her nose with both hands as she went.

Cheeks flaming with embarrassment, I put away my ball and bat and escaped into the locker room at the fastest pace I could safely use. As I closed the door behind me I was startled, but not entirely surprised, to see Claire by the row of sinks; she had already changed into her street clothes and was stuffing a wad of bloody paper towels into the trash.

"You're okay," I said after finding her nose perfectly straight, her face bruise-free.

"Of course I am – but I put on a pretty good show for the coach, huh?" Claire asked with a satisfied grin.

I rolled my eyes. "Yes, you did a fantastic job of making everyone think I'd bashed your nose in. Don't you think running out with your hands over your face was hamming it up just a bit?"

"It was, but seeing my nose un-break wouldn't do much toward making people think I'm like the other kids here, right? It's like Peter and I told you last night, Bella; you have to hide being different around normal people. Sometimes that's a pain, but you can't slip up no matter what." She sighed, her enthusiasm siphoning away.

"C'mon, let's get out of here," I suggested. We made it out the back door to the parking lot before the final bell and stood by my truck, hoods up, talking. "So, have you ever met anyone who can fly?"

"Three people last time I counted: Peter, who got it from his brother, and this kid, West, at my old school. West and I used to date, but I broke up with him."

"Because you moved here with Peter?"

"No, because after my dad got killed by the head of this company he used to work for, I wanted to take my ability public so we wouldn't have to run from them anymore. West didn't like that; he said he liked having his secrets."

"Okay, I know this shouldn't get to me – disturbingly enough, it doesn't – but still, your dad's ex-boss killed him? Is this another of those things I'd need to know sooner or later, or is your life just generally that crazy?"

"My life is that crazy, but here's the story: Dad used to work for this company that studied people like us, only no one else knew about that because they had this paper manufacturing front. Dad hid my ability from them for a long time, until this radioactive guy named Ted lost control of his power and burned our house down, and I had to give him a sedative to stop him from causing a total nuclear explosion. There wasn't a whole lot Dad could do to hide that."

Claire paused and checked to see how I was taking her tale; I thought it seemed more like a sci-fi soap opera than anyone's life, but given the spheres within which my new friend operated, I was fairly certain this was her life – and I'd reached the point where nothing shocked me anymore. "Radioactive Ted burned down your house, check. What happened after that?"

"Dad quit the company and we ran away from them – moved, changed our last name, the whole deal; we went from Texas to California and called ourselves Butler instead of Bennet. It worked for a while, but then they caught up with us, there was this big fight, and my dad got shot."

"I'm sorry about your dad. I couldn't imagine something like that happening to Charlie." I reached out to pat her shoulder, but she pulled away.

"Don't be sorry, Bella; it's fine. One of the company guys took my blood and used it to bring Dad back-"

"Your blood can bring back dead people?"

"Yeah, it's that strong. I've died before," Claire said abruptly, with an air of wanting to get everything out in the open.

I gathered that she expected me to be thrown by this information, but I was determined not to be no matter how weird this conversation became. My voice didn't shake at all as I asked, "You can die…and come back? No permanent damage?"

"Uh-huh; maybe you'll get to see for yourself if you hang around me long enough. I seem to run into plenty of dangerous situations even when I try to be 'normal'." There was bitterness in her tone now; she shook it off and said, "I'm sorry, I've been jabbering for, what, ten minutes? And I haven't asked you one single thing about yourself. Tell me something."

"Can't I ask just one more question? My life is nowhere near as interesting as yours," I wheedled.

"Lucky you. Okay, tell me one thing about yourself and then you can ask one more."

I thought quickly – I knew beyond a doubt what the most interesting detail of my life was, but it was also the one I was least prepared to discuss. Besides, the things Claire had told me might be important for me to know later, whereas I saw no reason that she needed to know about that.

"My parents divorced before my first birthday, and Renée moved to Phoenix with me. I came back here to live with Charlie after she married this minor league baseball player, so she could travel with him. I love books, hate makeup and shopping for clothes, and- and I've only gone to any kind of dance once – last year – and that time I had to be dragged inside." I took a deep breath as if that little speech had been a huge exertion equivalent with running a marathon. "See, I said my life was boring. Do I get that other question now?"

Just as Claire nodded, the bell rang and students began pouring out of the school in a mad rush to escape into their vehicles. Knowing my talk with Claire was almost at an end, I hurried to ask my last question. "What kind of ability does Peter have for seeing if there's anything different about me?" That wasn't what I'd meant to ask – I'd really wanted to know how Claire had died, but there was no way I could stuff the words back inside my mouth, so I just waited for her answer.

Claire hesitated, then said, "The one for understanding how things work – the one he got from Sylar. He tries not to use it most of the time because it's so risky – wanting to 'see how things work' is the reason Sylar cuts brains out. It's the best way to figure out someone whose power isn't obvious…but I'm trying really hard not to think about what'll happen if Peter loses control of it."

I swallowed hard. "That's not likely to happen, is it?"

Claire shrugged helplessly. "I don't know. This isn't the first dangerous power Peter's been exposed to and had to learn to control, and he's fine using it to fix my watch and other machine-type stuff, but I've never seen how he does with using it on a person. I'm sorry, Bella." She ran off to her car without another word, leaving me too frozen to do anything more than bite my lip.

So finding out how ordinary – or otherwise – I was might be dangerous. Well, that makes sense; when aren't things a lot riskier for me than for most everybody else? Hey, maybe that's my power – a superhuman talent for attracting danger! I laughed quietly at the idea although it really wasn't very laughable. I already knew I wouldn't be scared off this new course I'd chosen – the decision had been made, and there was nothing left but to follow through with it. It was what I'd always done, even when my decision put me in danger; why should this time be any different?

###

After an exhaustingly tense week, all I wanted was to get this resolved one way or another. "Look, I know there's a risk anytime you try using Sylar's power. I accept that, and I want you to…analyze me, whatever…anyway," I insisted, folding my arms and giving Peter my best stubborn frown.

He ran a hand through his hair, probably thinking of all the reasons why pulling out the ability he'd taken from Sylar to examine me was a terrible idea; I braced myself to argue with him, but I'd hardly opened my mouth before he dropped his hands, sighed, and said, "Okay. If you're sure, then we'll go ahead with this."

"Just like that?" I couldn't believe he was giving in so easily. "You're not going to lecture me about how this is dangerous and you could kill me if you…slip up?"

"What would I do that for? Obviously I wouldn't be telling you anything you don't already know – besides, ever hear of informed consent, Bella?"

"Um…is that where you consent to experimental medical treatment even though it might leave you worse off than you were to begin with?"

"That's the one," Peter agreed, "and you've just given it. If you don't mind taking risks, it's not my job to tell you not to, right?"

I nodded, my emotions see-sawing wildly between fear and exhilaration. Being able to do something reckless and dangerous without anyone trying to stop me was new, and it excited me as much or more than it frightened me. "So how does this work?" I said quickly. I was close to losing my nerve, running away, and determined to take the plunge before I did.

"I'm not sure…just sit there. Please." I sat in the chair Peter indicated; it felt like an odd parody of a medical checkup. He sat down facing me, took both my hands, and looked deep into my eyes as if trying to see right through me.

I looked back as long as I could, but this was getting too intense; it seemed like he really was seeing through me, and I didn't like the feeling – like a super-invasive method of X-ray. Peter Petrelli's dark eyes burned into mine, reminding me of Sylar, of Edward, of having my mind peeled open the way an orange peel was removed.

You wanted this! I reminded myself, but it was no use. I was panicking now; I tried to look away, but Peter's hand flashed out, grabbing my chin and forcing me to keep eye contact with him. "What are you doing to me?" I gasped. "Get out of my head!"

"I'm not in your head!" he snapped. "At first it was like your mind was a big blank space, except I see now that that's not right; your mind's there just as much as anyone else's, but I can't get into it-"

Understanding hit me like a lightning bolt – Peter wasn't the first to be unable to access my mind – this must be what made me different, made me special – but he was the first to push it this hard; I could feel real pressure building inside my skull as he shoved against whatever invisible barrier surrounded my mind, and it was starting to hurt. "Stop!" I yelped, throwing myself backward, away from him; he was still leaning forward and holding onto me, so I pulled him down as well and we both landed hard on the floor.

My head collided with a chair leg; a nauseating rush of dizziness swept over me as I sat up. Peter was already on his feet, glaring at me. "You shouldn't have done that," he snarled; he seemed angry, although I couldn't make sense of why… Then the picture in front of me shifted, making me dizzy again.

This confused me because nothing was different, yet it all looked different simply because my perspective had changed. The best comparison I knew of was an infrared overlay dropping over my vision, or developing a whole new kind of vision, like a sixth sense – I could feel the wall that wrapped around my mind, blocking anyone who tried to intrude on it, and I could sense Peter's abilities too – the main one that copied whatever powers he came in contact with as well as everything he'd absorbed since his original ability activated.

Mostly, I could sense what he'd copied from Sylar – instantly understanding how things worked was a good description for it, but I could also see the morbid curiosity – no, the hunger, the predatory instinct – that came with it, and how that aspect of Sylar's intuition could get out of hand and short out everything else, other powers and even rational thought. And I could sense that Peter was no longer in control of it. Oh, crap!

OK, so I ended with a cliffhanger, but I never said I wouldn't do that, just that I'd tell you what Bella's ability is – so you still can't throw stuff at me! Random info: I looked up informed consent after mentioning it here and found out that Bella really could give it since she's not mentally retarded, insane (well, not legally classified as insane), intoxicated, severely sleep-deprived, suffering from Alzheimer's disease, or in a coma; also, she's an adult. Interesting guidelines for competency, or at least interesting to me – then again, I probably am insane…