Disclaimer: Still broke...
A/N: Omg can this be?! Another chapter so soon?! Why yes, yes it is! I think I'm on a roll here... "Let it ride-u!"
CHAPTER 7
LE MORTE DE PETER
HYDE PARK, NEW YORK
"Here we are, Claire," Angela said as she opened the door to a large bedroom. "Go ahead and get settled in and I'll go have another word with Heidi. You can't blame her for being a bit shell shocked, of course."
Claire nodded before she spoke, "I hope this doesn't sound rude, but why is she in a wheelchair?"
The older woman sighed and the smile slid from her face. "No, that's all right. She and your father were in an accident. He was thrown from the car, no serious injuries. Heidi, your stepmother, was still in the car when it crashed."
"Oh," Claire responded.
"I've heard that you were in a car accident not so long ago, yourself, Claire. He told me everything. I know it's difficult for you, but you have got to leave that life behind. You cannot be Claire Bennet, the sweet, Texan, cheerleader anymore." Angela told her, staring intently at her vague expression.
"Everything is just happening so fast. I mean, like, a month ago, I was worried about SATs and Homecoming and if the Quarterback thought I was pretty or not," she confided in her grandmother. "And then everything just started spiraling out of control. I knew I was different and all, but to all of a sudden have someone trying to kill me... I probably wouldn't be here if it weren't for Peter."
Claire smiled slightly, knowing she'd get to see her hero soon enough. Her grandmother patted her gently on the arm before returning the smile and setting off, leaving Claire to herself in the big room.
She unpacked some of her scant belongings and took a shower and changed into the fresh clothes she'd bought just outside of the airport back in Texas. Sitting on the queen sized bed, Claire's thoughts drifted in and out of these amazing situations she'd found herself in. She thought about Peter, her knight in shining armor. She'd thought him very crush-worthy when they'd met at Homecoming, despite both ending up covered in blood before 8:30pm that night. Claire had been shocked to realize that her hero was actually her uncle, but that was ok by her - She had only met him twice and she knew already that she had family that truly cared about her.
Claire was just about to turn on the television when she heard a noise out on the lawn. She looked to see what it was, but didn't see anyone out there and went back to grab the remote.
Heidi had just wheeled herself into the kitchen when Angela came downstairs.
"I'm sorry that this had to happen this way, Heidi," she told her daughter-in-law.
The younger woman glared daggers at her. "Why didn't anyone mention this before? Nathan and I have been married for ten years, Angela!"
Angela merely shrugged her shoulders. "That is something to ask your husband. I presume it would be that the memories were painful. Nathan truly did care for Meredith, although he hadn't met Claire before the fire. I don't tell you this to make you feel bad about not being the only woman my son has ever been in love with, I'm telling you this because it might make you realize that he has dealt with painful things in his life, Heidi.
"Seeing you in that chair kills him every day, knowing that it happened to you and not him - and that it was because of him."
Heidi sat silently, taking a sip of her coffee. "Right, I'm sorry. We'll have a lot to talk about when he gets back, but I'm sure he's got his reasons. Coffee?"
"Yes, don't worry, I'll get it," Angela replied with a smile, feeling accomplished for diffusing the situation so efficiently - her daughter-in-law really was an amazing woman and, while they might not always see eye to eye, she really did despise arguing with her. "You do so much already!"
"Oh don't tell me your fawning over my condition now, Angela," Heidi replied jokingly.
"I wouldn't dream of it," she said. "I just happen to know what it's like raising two boys and having to deal with Nathan."
The women shared a laugh that was interrupted by the sound of something hitting the grass outside.
"Stay here," Angela told her as she shot out of the room, nearly colliding with the Haitian on the way to the door.
"Séjour ici," Stay here, he repeated to Angela as he rushed outside, hand on the weapon in his jacket.
Angela waited with bated breath as the moments passed by before he returned. He appeared to be limping slightly and then she realized the cause. He was hoisting a person, a body, towards the house. Both men were covered in blood as they came through the door. The Haitian turned around and Angela nearly fainted at the sight - the man he carried was Peter.
He laid his body out on a long piece of furniture in the living room and stood over him for a moment. Angela rushed to his side and checked his pulse, only to find nothing. Tears streamed from both eyes as she looked at him, lying there as though he was in a deep sleep.
"Il est mort," He is dead. He told her, his deep voice ringing with a touch of solemnity.
"No," she breathed as she laid her head on his torso, sobbing. "Not this."
Claire had just heard the front door open and close over the noise from the news program she'd been watching. She stood up, pulling on a jacket, and left her room to go downstairs. She froze on the staircase, looking down at the most horrific, macabre scene she'd ever come across. There was Angela, sobbing, and who was that?
"No," she breathed, rooted to the spot and not wanting to interrupt her grandmother's mourning.
Her face was contorted into something between shock and grief and all she wanted to do was to go down the rest of the way and be with her family. How can he die? She wondered to herself, still taking in the scene. They told me that Peter has my power, so he can't die!
Just as these words crossed her mind, she saw Angela sit bolt upright and watched as the fingers on Peter's hand began to move, ever so slightly. He was alive, but only just. There was something keeping him from healing, just as had happened to her the first time she'd died.
Claire watched as Angela pulled a shard of glass from Peter's body and saw that it was dripping blood as she set it aside. Angela stared at her son as the wound healed and he began to sit up, rubbing his head.
Angela embraced Peter, who had clearly not quite figured out what was happening or where he was. He made a move to hug her back before his eyes darted to the young blonde girl watching from the staircase.
"Claire?" he asked, holding his mother at arms length, his gaze questioning. "What's going on here?"
She smiled, and placed her hand on his blood spattered cheek. "Claire is going to be staying here for a little while, Peter. She's your niece."
Despite having just been dead, Peter's face broke into one of those crooked smiles of his that Angela hadn't seen in far too long and he leapt up from the blood stained furniture. He crossed the room and climbed the stairs to hug his niece, giving her a rather loud kiss on the forehead.
"Welcome to the family, Claire!" he exclaimed as she smiled.
So this is what family feels like, she thought.
"Yeah, yeah it is. It's great." Peter said, earning an odd gaze from Claire. "I can read minds - you might want to be careful - I'm sure I could get a lot of blackmail on ya."
Claire laughed. "Hah, yeah, well you might want to go wash off that blood before you try - people might think you're a psychopath, otherwise."
Please R&R - remember, ReviewsBrains... er, inspiration...
Yes, I know 'morte' should probably be 'mort', no 'e', as it's talking about a man, but it's borrowed from "Le Morte d'Arthur" (about well, King Arthur). I just changed the d'Arthur to de Peter. Arthurdead hero. Peterdead hero, or so you think ;)
