When Claire emerged from the shower, Peter was sitting on the sofa, newspaper spread out in front of him.
She pulled her towel a little tighter around her body, and walked over to him. "What are you doing?"
He didn't look up. "Looking at the Want Ads. I figure if I'm going to keep this apartment and support the two of us, I need to get a job."
She sighed, sitting down on the arm of the sofa. "I could get a job, too. I could waitress, or something."
He glanced up, and his eyes widened as he took in her barely-clothed appearance. "Something tells me that I'm not going to be able to concentrate on the newspaper anymore."
He tossed it aside, and pulled her onto his lap.
She chuckled. "Sorry, wasn't trying to distract you. So what do you think about me getting a job too?"
He sighed, pressing a kiss to the back of her neck. "I don't know. I have this terrible feeling that something's going to happen to you, Claire."
She chewed her lip. "Sylar is dead. He died the night you exploded, and I don't know of anyone else that could be a danger to me. Your dream could mean nothing, Peter."
He nodded. "I know…"
She looked at him with pleading eyes. "Come on, Peter…"
He sighed. "Fine. Just promise me you'll be careful?"
She grinned. "I will."
Peter had found a job at a nursing home. Somehow, he remembered every bit of his nursing training.
Claire found a job as a waitress at a small café in Manhattan, and loved it.
Her bright smile and bubbly personality made her popular with the customers.
She'd been working for close to three weeks, when one of the other waitresses approached her.
"There's a man here who asked to be seated in your section. Table 4."
Claire smiled, assuming it was Peter coming to surprise her. "Thanks Rachael."
She straightened her apron, and hurried over to the table that the waitress had designated.
But it wasn't Peter. The man looked strangely familiar, but she couldn't place his face.
She pulled her notepad out of her apron pocket, and smiled brightly at him. "Good morning, sir. I'm Claire, I'll be your waitress today. Can I start you off with something to drink?"
He smiled faintly. "I'd like a cup of hot lemon tea, please."
Claire nodded, but there was a niggling thought in the back of her mind.
She recognized the man's voice.
She returned to his table a few minutes later with the tea. "Now, are you ready to order?"
He nodded. "I'd like the vegetable omelet. No onions, please."
As she jotted down the order, her eyes widened.
She recognized the voice.
Her mind flashed back to months ago when she overheard her father's phone conversation.
"There's one more thing. I've found Peter Petrelli."
She had to clamp a hand over her mouth to keep from crying out.
Her father was quiet for a second. "Where is he?"
"Ireland. A place called Cork. The Company is most anxious to capture him."
Noah sighed heavily. "We have to make sure that doesn't happen. How long before they send you to get him?"
The man on the other end sighed. "I can most likely stall them for another week. When I get there, I'll have to warn him. Then, I guess, I'll just tell the Company that he escaped. Are you going to tell your daughter? I know she and Peter were close…"
She swallowed thickly.
This man worked for her father.
She had to assume that it wasn't a coincidence that he was at this café in New York, and had asked to be seated in her section.
She nodded, giving him a nervous smile. "I'll be right back with your breakfast. Just holler if you need anything else, okay?"
She hurried back to the kitchen and gave the chef the order, and then leaned against the wall.
Her breath was coming in short, nervous spurts, and her hands were shaking. What do I do?
She glanced over at the coat rack where employees hung their belongings, and spotted her purse.
Her purse, which contained her cell phone.
She hurriedly grabbed the purse, pulled out her phone, and snuck out into the back alley.
She dialed the number she knew by heart, and waited for an answer.
"Hello?"
"It's me. Peter, I think I'm in trouble."
She could hear the fear in his voice when he answered her. "I'm on my way. What kind of danger?"
Claire glanced around her before answering. "A guy that works for my dad just came in and asked to be seated in my section. It just seemed too coincidental. I don't know what it means, or why he's here, but I'm scared. I know my dad wouldn't hurt me, but I think he sent him to take me back. I don't want to go back, Peter. My dad has lied to me and hurt me so many times…"
The door swung open behind her and she jumped, but it was just the chef.
"Claire, your order is up."
She smiled. "Thanks, Steve. Peter, I have to go. Just get here soon, okay?"
"I will."
She clicked her phone shut, and walked back into the kitchen.
She picked up the plate containing the man's omelet, and walked back into the dining area.
The man was reading a notebook and sipping his tea, and he smiled as she approached. "Thank you very much."
She sat the omelet down and smiled. "You're very welcome. Enjoy, and let me know if there's anything else you need."
She walked off to wipe some tables, but was startled when the front door banged open.
Peter stood in the doorway, a frightened look on his face, and looked around.
He relaxed a bit when he saw Claire.
He hurried over to her. "Where is he?"
She gestured towards the man sitting at the corner table.
Peter's eyes widened and he let out a gasp. "Professor Suresh."
Claire slid her hand into his. "How do you know that?"
Peter shrugged. "I just knew it was him as soon as I saw his face. He works for your father? You're sure?"
She nodded vigorously. "I'd recognize the voice anywhere."
Mohinder Suresh watched Claire as she walked away.
She picked up a rag, and began wiping tables carefully.
He almost jumped out of his skin when the front door was suddenly thrown open.
He nearly choked on his forkful of omelet when he saw Peter Petrelli standing in the doorway.
Peter hurried over to Claire, and they had a conversation in hushed tones.
At one point, Peter turned to look at him, and he pretended to be studying his notebook.
When he looked up again a few seconds later, what he saw surprised him.
Peter had pulled the young woman into an intimate embrace, burying his face in her neck and pressing a kiss to her shoulder.
If he didn't know the two were related, he would almost think that they were…
Then Peter was kissing her.
Mohinder couldn't stop his jaw from dropping.
Claire was kissing her uncle.
Peter had his hands on his niece's ass.
His mind whirled with questions, but one thing was for sure.
He had to call Noah immediately.
Dropping more than enough money on the table to cover the bill, he grabbed his coat and notebook, and darted out the door.
Once he was a few blocks away from the café, he pulled out his cell phone.
He dialed the number and waited as it rang.
"Hello?"
"Mr. Bennet, I've found Claire. But there's a serious problem."
Alright, party people. Including this one, I wrote two chapters this week. So I'm pretty damn happy with myself! I got lots of positive feedback with y'all telling me that you would stick with me, even if I needed to take a break from the story.
I'll tell you this much; I am NOT abandoning this story! I have a renewed interest in this story based on the two chapters I wrote. So, while you may only get one chapter each week, I hope to still be able to update frequently.
So, that said, review!
I need something to cheer me up after the Cowboys loss to the Giants...
(Don't worry Tony Romo, I still love you!)