RSegovia: Thank you so much for all your reviews. They were helpful, encouraging, and constructive. I hope you continue to enjoy, and I'll try to watch the cheese factor.
Don't Lie to Me - 7
Claire was once again in the passenger seat, of yet another car, going who knows where. He never told her where they were going, or what the plan was. He rarely said anything at all. She assumed that it was because he'd spent so long pretending he couldn't talk, that he simply preferred not to.
At first she'd been relieved by his silence. She had been through such an emotional rollercoaster that she really didn't think she could say anything and hold back tears at the same time. She'd almost been murdered, her friends were taken from her, her dad was a secret government agent, her real dad didn't even want to see her, and now she was being forced away from the only home she'd ever known.
Yes, those thoughts had overwhelmed her the first few days, and she was happy for the silence. Now she was simply numb… and bored.
"Why won't you tell me where we're going?" she finally asked.
He answered in his unhurried manner, "It is safer for you if you do not know."
"What? Do you think I'm going to start handing out fliers to everyone at the next truck stop?"
There was silence for a long time. Claire was use to this; it didn't mean she liked it. "I asked you before if you could keep a secret. You didn't."
"My mom was in the hospital because of what my dad did to her."
"What I did to her," the Haitian corrected.
That killed the conversation for another hour. Claire periodically checked the clock radio in between counting road kill. Ironic that seeing a dead possum by the road use to gross her out. After sticking her own hand in a garbage disposal, there was very little she was grossed out by anymore.
"Are you hungry?" the Haitian finally asked.
"Yeah," Claire answered. She wasn't really, but it was something to do.
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Deni honestly thought she'd be fine, but she and her knee were of distinctly different opinions on the matter. She'd progressed five blocks when she finally faced the fact that "walking it off" wasn't working. After a lengthy deliberation she finally hailed a cab. Her boycott of the public transportation system would now have an exception clause for anytime she was stranded outside of the Brooklyn area.
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Patching everyone up had been Peter's top priority. While he cleaned the cut on Niki's arm, Nathan pursued his top priority, which was lecturing his younger brother.
"Do you have any idea how many people I've had out looking for you? I have a third of my staff still combing the city as we speak. Where have you been?"
"Hiding," Peter answered simply. "I've been learning to control my powers on my own."
"Control?" Nathan asked incredulously. "Is that what you call your fight with Isaac, control?"
The look in Peter's eyes had told Nathan that he'd said the absolute wrong thing.
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Nathan had been there, the night Simone had died. After she'd left his office, he called up a member of his security staff, and had her followed. The last thing he needed was her going to the press about the Petrelli brothers' "Special Abilities." Little did he know that she would end up dead not half an hour later.
When the security guard called him with the news, he couldn't believe it. Simone had gone to visit her ex-boyfriend, and shots had been fired. When the guard went in to inspect the situation he'd found Nathan's little brother, holding the woman in his arms as she died.
Nathan had hung up the phone right then, and on impulse flown directly to the art studio. He arrived just in time to hear another shot. His guard filled him in later that Isaac had tried to kill himself, and that Peter had pulled the gun away from his head as it fired.
"It won't bring her back!" His brother had shouted.
That was when Peter broke down. Nathan had seen his brother down before. He'd seen him frightened of their father after he'd failed a test. He'd witnessed him bristling with fury after a betrayal. He'd seen him in lock-up for a crime he didn't commit. He'd even seen his frail body, lying on a hospital cot, twice. In his life he'd never seen his brother like that.
That's when he entered the room. He tried to comfort his brother, but there simply weren't words to stay his grief. Nathan remembered the night of his car accident. He remembered the grief he'd felt for paralyzing Heidi. He couldn't even imagine what he'd have done if she'd died.
He'd had the security guard drag Peter away from the scene. And though he knew he'd live to regret it, he called Linderman to help him cover everything up. Peter had wanted to call the police; to stay and take the blame. Nathan couldn't allow that. Having his brother arrested for murder would be political suicide. Most of all, he couldn't bare the thought of Peter spending one more night in a cell.
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"Peter, wait!" Nathan had to grab his arm to keep him from running off again. Unfortunately, the movement aggravated his rib.
"Why!" Peter shouted. "So you can keep me from making another mess for you to clean up?"
"So I can help you," Nathan hissed, holding his side. "You're my brother. That's my job."
As the two brothers reconciled, Niki stood off to the side. She felt every bit the intrusive outsider to the family moment.
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"You look like hell!" Frank gasped in astonishment as Denise walked in. Deni couldn't argue with him. She'd caught her reflection in a window on her way in. Her knotted pony tail had been rained on, then slept in, and still remained uncombed. She was still wearing her PJ bottoms which were now dirty and ripped at the knee. To top it all off she had someone else's blood on her sleeve. "What happened? Did you get mugged this morning?"
"No, I got mugged last night," Deni explained in a sarcastic manner. "This morning I was dragged around a rooftop."
"Seriously, are you ok? I can give you the night off."
"I took last night off. Look what that got me. I just need to borrow a comb." Reluctantly Frank pulled a comb out of his apron and handed it to her. "Thanks," she said. "I'll be ready in five minutes."
