Title: "The Road Not Taken"
Rating: PG-13 probably.
Pairings: Claire/Elle, Claire/Gretchen
Summary: When Claire goes back in time to save Elle, her relationship with Gretchen is threatened.
Disclaimer: I do not own the television show "Heroes."
Note: Takes place after "Brave New World." The past takes place after "The Butterfly Effect." Thank you Lied and She-Hulk from the BAM Board for all your help.
Chapter 9
"Oh my God," Gretchen harshly whispered at the sound of her father's voice. With a terrified grimace Gretchen threw her body onto the black and white tiled floor and pulled Claire down on top of her. It was an odd circumstance for Claire. Normally she was taking the brunt of injuries but Gretchen did not know that and went out of her way to protect her. It was cute. Or it would have been had it not been for their situation.
"Hello?" Bernie called as he threw open the kitchen door and began to step in, his sandals clacking against the tiles.
Pushing her body off of Gretchen's, Claire yanked her uniform up as quickly as she could, fumbling with her small fingers to make sure all her buttons were back in place. She silently mouthed to Gretchen, "Am I okay?"
Gretchen frantically and quietly nodded, wincing and reaching for the back of her head. She might have had a bruise or concussion and Claire felt an instant wave a guilt for instigating the make out session that lead to the injury. Claire would see to making this up to Gretchen just as soon as she got rid of Bernie's prying eyes.
With those impure thoughts firmly lodged in her mind, she dropped a quiet peck on the crown of Gretchen's head before standing up quickly and popping up suddenly from behind the counter.
"Hi," Claire said, hoping she was not too flushed.
"Hi?" Bernie replied, stepping forward a little more. Claire's eyes nearly bulged out of her head with each step he took closer to discovering his daughter behind the counter. "Everything all right? I mean, you were on the floor."
"Yeah. It's just, you know, french toast," Claire said with a decisive nod and a flourish of her hand. She prayed he knew nothing of french toast.
Bernie's balding forehead wrinkled with confusion before he seemed to realize something and pointed to something just behind Claire's head. "Oh, were you looking for the frying pan? It's in the cupboard right behind you."
Claire nodded thankful for the easy acceptance of her actions. She carefully but casually stepped around Gretchen's form to retrieve a pan from the cupboard. She lifted the heavy thing down with as much grace as she could. She swore she used to be good at helping her mother cook. Now she was better with her father's firearm.
"Thanks, well, I will just cook up some breakfast and it'll be ready in just a little while," Claire said with her most professional smile.
Bernie nodded with a smile of his own. "That's actually not what I really came in here for though. I was hoping you and I could have a one on one talk later on the lanai this afternoon."
"Oh, yes, of course sir." Claire smiled tightly.
"Very good. I'll be reading my paper for now," Bernie said before quickly snatching the background report off the counter. Claire had left it open. She hoped it was not too suspicious. "Please let me know when breakfast is ready."
He was gone before Claire could offer a response and part of her was glad for it as she got more nervous every second she talked and she could swear he was getting colder and colder in his demeanor as time stretched on in the short conversation.
Chancing a glance at Gretchen, Claire cautiously whispered "what do you think the meeting is about?" The wide eyed Gretchen just shrugged.
Claire reached out a hand to help Gretchen off the floor. Once Gretchen straightened up, Claire brushed the stray hairs out of her eyes as Gretchen did the same for her, albeit distractedly aiming her eyes toward the door to make sure her father did not return.
Their movements stalled for a second as they finally looked in each other's eyes. Claire brought both of her hands up to cup Gretchen's face. She wanted to do something impulsive like kiss her and damn the consequences but Gretchen looked so shaken and doe eyed that Claire could not help but want to be tender. This was probably why she was not the impulsive and take what she wants type.
Sucking it up, Claire stroked the pad of her thumb across full lips before depositing a kiss there. "You okay?"
Gretchen nodded though she cringed and rubbed her head again as she did so. "Yeah, I mean, you know it's not the first time my dad has walked in on me."
Claire raised an eyebrow as a jealous frown crossed her face. "Really?"
Gretchen's eyes widened to a comical size. "Not like that. I mean it's not like I'm a nun or anything but I'm not like a hooker either or any variations like a hooker nun or a ...nun hooker."
Claire's brow scrunched in confusion. "This conversation has certainly taken a turn."
"I just... it's like... have you ever broken into a morgue before?" Gretchen asked nonchalantly as if she asked if Claire had ever traveled before.
Claire dropped her hands from around Gretchen's face. "No."
"Well, see that I couldn't explain that so I didn't want to bring it up," Gretchen said sadly.
"Try," Claire prodded.
"It's a rich kid thing," Gretchen said, avoiding Claire's eyes by playing with a button on Claire's uniform instead. "Just doing something to take the pressure off. Do anything you can just to see if you could get away with it."
Claire face scrunched up even more. "By doing what to a dead body?"
"Nothing," Gretchen laughed. Claire still looked at her with narrow eyed disbelief. "I dated a goth guy who was into looking at dead bodies. I was just following along with what I thought he wanted. I wanted him to like me. I get a little overeager when I like someone or want them to like me."
Claire looked down at her fingers, suddenly concerned with how her nails looked and unable to face Gretchen. "So, have you done this before? Dated the maid?"
"No," Gretchen whispered, stooping down a little so Claire could see her smiling face. "And are we dating because you know, I could be cool with that."
"Well, that depends," Claire said as she pressed a kiss to Gretchen's lips. "Can you make breakfast?"
Gretchen pulled away with a start as she looked frantically around the kitchen as if she had seen it for the first time. "Oh that."
"Yeah, that," Claire smiled as the pearl white kitchen phone started to ring. "And I'll get that."
Gretchen started up the crackling stove. "So, enough for me, Dad, Delilah and Joanna. Plus, you and Rene?"
"Yeah, we'll eat in the kitchen," Claire said, casting one more look at Gretchen who was already wrapped up in the task of cooking up the bread like a pro, (not the hooker kind. They had already settled that).
Fighting the tender feelings that struck her heart, Claire desperately tried to keep being the do- what- she- wants kind of girl. In an effort to distract herself she quickly answered the phone.
Adopting a professional tone Claire spoke, "This is the Berg residence. May I take a message?"
"It's me," Elle whispered on the other end of the line.
"Why are you whispering?" Claire whispered back.
"I don't know why are you whispering?" Elle responded.
Claire frowned. "I don't know. How did you get this number?"
"Rene gave it to me. Thanks for not giving me the number or your address by the way. You're a totally awesome bodyguard. Seriously. A real company girl," Elle said. Somehow Claire pictured a smile lingering on Elle's face at the insult.
Claire tried to contain a detailed comeback as Gretchen was still in the room. "Well, what's up? Why are you calling? Did something happen? Did you see a member of the Lazarus group?"
"I don't know. What's a member of the Lazarus group look like?" Elle asked.
Claire shrugged though Elle could not see it. "I don't really know either."
Claire heard Elle scoff and curse and mutter 'I'm so dead,' before finally saying, "Okay, seriously how did you get assigned to this gig? As a bodyguard or the person here to kill me?"
Claire bit her lip to keep words from spilling out and blowing her cover completely. "Are you in trouble?"
"Are you still mad at me?" Elle shot back.
"No," Claire quietly admitted, before turning a look towards Gretchen. Gretchen was watching her ever so carefully as the conversation seemed to peak her interest. Once she noticed Claire noticed her spying, she quickly turned her attention back to the pan, jerking it once again across the flame.
"Really?" Elle asked with a hopeful tone in her voice that Claire could not help but smile at. She was such a sap.
"I'm not mad at you," Claire admitted again.
"Oh good, of course," Elle said, suddenly confident as if the idea of Claire ever being mad at her was unheard of. "What calmed you down? You looked all upset yesterday. All green, dry heaving, actually heaving."
Claire closed her eyes tightly. "Please, don't remind me. I haven't eaten since."
"I'm just saying you threw up and it was kind of funny in a way," Elle said.
"Excuse me?" Claire nearly yelled though she knew Elle was just pushing her buttons. Claire tossed her most innocent and doe eyed look to Gretchen after her outburst and all Gretchen offered was an amused smile and curious eyes as she moved battered bread around the skillet.
Elle offered a devilish laugh over the phone. "Well, I mean, you've always been kind of perfect. It's nice to see there's a human in there just as screwed up and gross as the rest of us. I didn't even know you could get sick like that."
"Well, there's sick as in illness and sick as in disgusted," Claire whispered before she could stop herself.
Elle was silent for a few seconds causing Claire to roll her eyes at her own tactlessness. Nothing new on her part. Claire finally continued. "I'm not disgusted with you. It's being reminded of Sylar at his worst. I took it out on you and everyone I saw last night. Even myself."
"I know you don't want to hear it but he actually used to be a sort of okay guy. He had mom issues and was totally weird and nerdy but nice guy. Liked pie," Elle said.
Claire was touched that Elle seemed to remember him fondly for a moment despite all he did to her, but now was not the time to confess secrets. "I don't really know what to say to that but I'll take your word for it."
"So, we're good?" Elle asked.
Claire nodded with a smile. "We're good."
"Okay," Elle said with a light note in her voice, obviously happy to still be in Claire's good graces. As well she should be in Claire's opinion. Claire kept her alive after all. Well, at least at this point she did.
"So, are there any problems? Anything wrong?" Claire asked.
"I have the feeling someone is watching me," Elle said almost offhandedly.
"Watching you?" Claire inquired, taking on a suspicious tone.
"Can you blame whoever they are? I'm really hot," Elle joked.
Claire smirked. "So, you are having no concrete problems right now?"
"I noticed you didn't disagree with me," Elle said in a kittenish voice.
Claire smothered the urge to laugh at the lighthearted teasing, instead ending the call before she could get into any more trouble. Loud enough for Gretchen to hear, she announced, "I'm sorry, Miss. You have the wrong number. Please consult your directory."
With that she hung up and spun around to find Gretchen scooping servings of french toast onto a plate made of bits of sea glass. The plate was not completely symmetrical, and the colors were not perfect, a mixture of brown and green and an ugly orange. It was probably something homemade by Gretchen in her youth. It was nice to see a little piece of her in a part of the house outside the sanctuary that was her room.
Still, it was hard to focus on that as Gretchen stared at her almost expectantly as she was endlessly curious and even now wanted to see every part of Claire. She gnawed her bottom lip in an attempt not to ask questions, showing great restraint on her part. "Who was that? You sounded like you knew them."
Or less than admirable restraint.
Claire opened her mouth but no sound came out. She was saved from answering when Bernie bellowed from the other room.
"Miss Petrelli, could you please come in here for a moment?"
Claire's face contorted until her mouth was hilariously and almost impossibly twisted into the shape of a question mark. Claire darted her eyes in between Gretchen and the living room, trying to telepathically ask Gretchen what her father was calling her for. Gretchen shrugged so Claire blew out a breath of air and walked toward the livingroom.
As Claire pushed through the swinging door, she stopped short. Was that an original Andy Warhol hanging on the wall? Right next to his comfy arm chair... She hoped it was not real. Someone with such awful taste should not have sought after art.
Putting a polite smile on her face she walked to the side of the armchair to face Bernie. "Bernie, is there anything I could do for you?"
He folded the newspaper and set it on the arm of his chair and placed his reading glasses on top of it. Suddenly, he seemed less eccentric in a plain brown button down shirt and generic grey sweat pants. She wondered if he would change before his wife and stepdaughter woke up. She wondered if everyone was wearing a disguise and not just her.
"I was just wondering who was on the phone. I heard it ring but you never asked for me," Bernie said.
"Oh." Claire nearly sighed in relief. "It was a wrong number."
Bernie nodded before standing up and giving her an appreciative up and down look that made her skin crawl. "Miss Petrelli, let's just have that talk right now."
Claire offered a tight smile. "Sure."
She followed him towards the balcony patio, trailing him a few steps from behind. She searched around but Gretchen was nowhere to be seen. Claire was a cautious as she followed him. The looks he gave her... What if he made a pass at her? Would she have to just take it to avoid breaking her cover? What would that mean for Gretchen?
Maybe he wanted something else. What if he wanted to fire her? Had he taken the time to notice how incompetent she was? The house was clean and the food was getting made... by Gretchen and Rene, but he did not know that. Did he?
He opened the door to the patio and Claire made one last pleading look for Gretchen even though she knew Gretchen would not be there. He motioned for Claire to go first and she did as slowly as possible. He would not try to kill her when her back was turned would he? Were the doors soundproof? It would be completely out of nowhere but everything that happened to Claire since she had been on this mission had been completely out of nowhere. A near death experience was actually more in the norm than anything else that had happened to Claire on this trip.
She stepped far out onto the patio and whipped around quickly, keeping her eyes on Bernie as she moved farther and farther away from him nearly knocking over a table and a vase in the process.
"Did I not strike you as an intelligent man, Miss Petrelli?" Bernie asked. Claire noticed for the first time that Gretchen had her father's eyes. They were a mix of light brown with light green around the iris. His eyes were not kind like Gretchen's however. This was something that was abundantly clear when he fixed his cold stare on her.
"I'm sure you're an intelligent man, Bernie," Claire said innocently.
He advanced closer to her, an almost cruel smile on his face. "Do you like calling me Bernie, Miss Petrelli?"
"I guess," Claire said, backing away from him. Great. She rammed her last attempted rapist into a wall with his car. She could not do that to Gretchen's dad. Mostly because of moral issues and learned experience but slightly because she was trapped on a patio.
He put his hands in his pockets and laughed bobbing his head to a joke that Claire was not let in on. It made her skin crawl. "Funny thing. In business, I like people to call me Bernie. A keep your enemies closer type thing. When people take advantage of my daughter I like them to call me Mr. Berg since they obviously have no respect for me and it's about time they start."
Claire gulped. "Excuse me?"
"You're calling me Mr. Berg from here on out. Got it?" Mr. Berg said with a nod full of fake politeness. Claire had not anticipated this turn of events and was completely baffled at what to do. Seeing no other recourse she hesitantly nodded.
"Great," Mr. Berg said with a bright smile that instantly fell off his face as he menaced his way towards her. "Your background reports check out. I saw them on the counter and looked them over in my chair. No reports of anything like this before so I need to know why the hell you decided to take advantage of my little girl in particular. What's your game here?"
"I- I don't know what you're talking about," Claire said blinking and stumbling all the way.
Bernie's eyes closed almost peacefully as he began to shake his head. He opened his eyes again. "You're lying."
"I'm not," Claire said as she averted her eyes and played with her hair. Her eyes landed on a slice of beach and ocean far off from the balcony. She wondered what it would be like to be there at that moment. Would she have peace? Would there be glass in the sand to remind her of the fight she had with Elle? Would Mr. Berg still have it out for her? Was there anywhere she could run to ever escape her conscience and consequences?
Apparently not.
"So, you weren't just on the phone with a girl? Some girl you were familiar with? Fond of? And my daughter wasn't just hiding all crumpled on the floor on the kitchen?" Bernie asked.
Claire's eyes widened. Uh oh. "We-"
"Don't even start," Bernie warned. "I picked up the phone when you didn't bring the call to me immediately. I heard you talking to that girl. When only a moment ago, my daughter was on the floor and don't even deny she was there. Smarter people than you have tried the same thing with my UNDERAGED DAUGHTER."
Claire took a moment to think about her options. She could lie but she was an awful liar and Mr. Berg was already aware that she wasn't telling the truth. "I did kiss Gretchen and she was hiding on the floor but I wasn't planning anything I swear. I didn't know I was going to kiss her until literally the moment it happened. I just lo- like her. I like her a lot."
Bernie nearly growled as he shook his head. He shook his head and began to pace. Every couple of seconds he would stare Claire down with a war in his eyes. It was the first time he seemed like more than a yuppie character and like an actual human being. A father at that. The intensity in his eyes reminded Claire of her own father.
"That still doesn't explain the girl on the phone," Mr. Berg said finally. It struck Claire as odd. As if he had decided to say it at the last minute. Only traces of anger instead of the rage he seemed to put out only moments before. It was as if he was phoning his anger in.
"She's a friend of mine. I didn't expect her to call here," Claire said. It was true enough.
Mr. Berg almost smirked. "You sounded pretty chummy for a friend. Are you sure that's all there is?"
Claire gulped and she had no idea why. "Of course. She's just a friend."
Mr. Berg continued to evaluate her up and down and Claire was ready to shake. Finally, his hands dropped from his hips and down to his sides. His posture relaxed as did his face, settling into a resigned frown. If Claire did not know any better it would seem he had given up his argument. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm not trying to scare you. Well, I am, but..."
He paused, obviously debating what to say next. Claire was equally baffled at what it might be. "I'll be honest. I have a lot. I have more money than I could ever need, an acceptable amount of friends and real estate. I have good business, a beautiful wife Joanna and a stepdaughter Delilah who I love as my own. There is however, one thing outside my grasp."
Bernie sat down and seemed to crumble at that moment as if all the strength was drained out of his body and all that was left was a fragile shell ready to collapse into itself. Claire did not know how to respond to his rapidly changing moods or if she should at all instead of simply running back into the house and out the front door, consequences be damned.
He saved her the trouble of responding. "I never learned how to do the good dad thing. Not with my own daughter at least. I could see it, you know, in your eyes. That you could tell and were judging us. I'm very good at reading people. I guess you are too."
"I've learned to," Claire responded as she cursed the tremble in her voice. She began to walk closer to the door, though she had to pass him to do so. She felt less scared for some reason. She somehow sensed he was done fighting her.
"You need to understand, my parents died while I was in college. I didn't know how I would bounce back until I met my first wife. I loved my wife. I would've given her the world and with the money I had even then, I could've come close," Mr. Berg half smiled, though distant and glassy eyed. "She didn't want the world like I did. She just wanted a child. After Gretchen was born and my wife died. It was just difficult. I was so terrified of losing my daughter I couldn't let myself get close. I know that sounds awful."
It did sound awful. And familiar. Claire knew all about it from her own childhood. The company told her father not to get too close because they would take her away someday. So, he was somewhat close. Close within reason to her and her brother. Claire felt bad for Lyle not getting loved as much because Noah was afraid to show favoritism. At least Claire had Claude for the first several years of her life, playing with her and giving her teddy bears. She also had biological parents loving and mourning her without her knowledge.
Then Claude was gone and Noah had to step up his attention. There was no one left to care for her but him and Sandra and he started to care and he would bring her the bears from all over the world and despite almost a decade of Claire's life when Noah tried not to get too close there came a point when he was no longer willing to give her up.
Mr. Berg continued. "I tried so hard to be there but it was always too painful. I saw how Gretchen fought for attention. She would try so hard and when she realized she wouldn't get attention at home she would go to excessive and extreme lengths to get attention elsewhere while seeing flaws in herself. She was so convinced she was unworthy of love that she became bulimic in middle school. You could die from that you know. She just got out of rehab for the third time two weeks ago."
Bernie's eyes welled up at that and Claire sympathized more than she should because she knew Gretchen and she watched Gretchen die and it had broken her heart as well. For a father afraid to get close because he was worried she would die and leave him alone, only to find she began to suffer from a disorder he blame's himself for that could potentially end her life? It was horrible.
"She's young and beautiful and rich and people are always trying to come in and take advantage of her vulnerabilities and it is my fault, I know. But if there is one thing I can do as a father, that is protect my daughter from everyone. Including you," Mr. Berg added pointedly as he turned his eyes on Claire.
Claire knew where this was coming from and knew in most instances it was not smart to come between a parent and their child. Certainly not in her case. However, she did not know how to respond to this. This was Gretchen. Her Gretchen. Well, perhaps not yet but eventually. How was she supposed to stay away from her? And should she?
She knew Mr. Berg was waiting for some sort of assurance or choice on her part but she did not know what it would be yet.
Thankfully she was saved from answering when Rene swiftly opened the door to the patio. With a small bow he said, "Excuse me, Bernie. Claire, I need you in the pantry."
Rene abruptly turned and walked out leaving no room for discussion and Claire was grateful for it. She quickly sped off the patio until she was nearly skipping behind him. She tossed a look back to Mr. Berg to find him still rooted in the spot where she left him, lost in his own thoughts.
She shook him off and was thrilled to have the mission to refocus on. Once Claire caught up to Rene, she tried to look him in the eye but his attention was diverted somewhere into the hallway they were entering.
"Rene, what's up? Why do you need me in the pantry?" Claire said, stopping abruptly as Rene did in the middle of the hallway. Finally her gaze left him and went about fifteen feet down the hallway where Gretchen was standing, facing her and Rene.
Behind her stood, Elle with a ball of electricity poised directly at Gretchen's head.
