Chapter Two: Acquaintances
The locker room was quiet with the distant echo of a cheering crowd only a tickle on the edge of the senses. Despite his own reaction to Claire being the cheerleader that Isaac's paintings and Future Hiro had sent him looking for, Peter wasn't surprised that she was important to him or his future. From the second they'd touched each other in the hall, his entire mind had been focused on her. He'd known there was something about her, something that drew him in.
The real question became, just what was he supposed to save her from, and had he already failed?What if he'd been supposed to save her...from himself?
Claire wasn't having the same qualms as Peter. She didn't have thoughts of saving the word or personal failure on her mind. She was mostly thinking about how much she enjoyed having Peter's long, thin, strong arms around her and how he smelled really good.
Though the thought that he was 'special' like her did make that million-watt smile of hers ratchet up a few more notches.
While the lovebirds sat there glorifying in the glow of after-love (or rapidly finding your mind taking twisty-turns to nuclear explosion), someone was sneaking around the bend.
His real name was unimportant; he was simply known as Sylar.
His life's mission was centered on killing people with abilities, so that he could steal them.
He had a good dozen already.
Now he was after Claire's.
Neither he nor she nor the second he with the she, know it.
As Sylar crept down the aisles of lockers, he knew there were people on the other side. He heard their movements moments ago when he entered, fully intent on finding the "special girl" he sought. He knew she was a cheerleader, he knew she was indestructible, and he knew she was blonde, but he didn't know where she was or her name.
He could sense that she was close.
Poking his head around the line of lockers, Sylar observed the two semi-nude entwined people on the ground. The girl was blonde, was a cheerleader (if the uniform on the ground next to her was any indication), the only question was if she was the one he sought. With barely a glance for the man, Sylar slipped back into the shadows, prepared to wait for some indication that he was right.
Sylar was not a violent man by nature, he didn't murder willy-nilly. He only took what was destined to be his.
He would be special, damnit.
Claire brushed one sweat-tinged lock of hair off Peter's face, marveling at the contrast of the deep brown to her golden fingers. "We should get dressed. Half-time is almost over and Jackie has been a real bitch lately."
Peter nodded but couldn't stop himself from leaning in and stealing another kiss. Apparently, having Claire's quick-healing powers had an added bonus, because even as he tasted her minty-chocolatey-goodness, he was growing hard within her again. Claire moaned and leaned back, banging into the lockers. "No time to go at it again. Later?"
He grinned. "Promise?"
"Only if we get out of here before we get caught," she replied with a smile, sliding out of his arms and instantly missing the warmth he projected. She straightened her shirt, which they'd never removed, and pulled up her jeans and panties, also never removed. She tried to imagine what they'd looked like, going at it mostly clothed with only the bear essentials showing. The image made her laugh.
"What's so funny?" Peter asked, buttoning his jeans.
Claire blushed and explained. "We didn't get any of our clothes off."
Peter stepped close, scant inches away and looked down at the petite girl before him. He passed the back of his finger down the wet spot formed over her breast where he'd briefly suckled. "Didn't need to."
Claire released the breath she'd sucked in and nodded. "We should go."
Peter waited until she'd grabbed her bag before sliding his hand down her arm, wrapping their fingers together as he tugged her toward the door. "So, Jackie a friend of yours?"
Claire shook her head. "Ever since she walked through fire," she said with a snide twist of her lips, "she's been bitchier than ever."
"Walked through fire, eh?" Peter replied, having seen the article and now knowing the truth.
She scoffed. "She no more walked through fire and came out unharmed than I did. She's just a damn liar."
Their words trailed off as they exited through the hallways, leaving their unknown observer behind.
He grinned as Claire and Peter walked away and the joyous sounds of cheerleaders post-cheer came closer.
Jackie, huh? Sylar would very much like to meet her...
They lay together in his motel bed and found it difficult, even with their shared healing abilities, to stir the energy to get up.
Claire shouldn't still be here, she knew this, but she couldn't make herself leave. Sneaking out to go to the Homecoming Game was one thing. Sneaking out to go to a motel room with a stranger was another. A very delicious other thing that she wanted to indulge in again and again. Between hungry kisses and caresses on naked skin, they spoke of their lives.
She knew he had a pseudo-girlfriend in New York who was in love with the clairvoyant painter. She knew his brother was in politics and manipulated everyone around him. She knew he loved Rocky Road ice cream and Hawaiian pizza.
He knew her best friend was gay, her family meant the world to her, and that she was adopted. He knew that she dreamed of escaping this small Texas town. He knew that she preferred cotton sheets to silk, that she slept in her Dad's old football jersey and that she adored Mint Chocolate.
They knew that in the light of the streetlamp outside that leaked through the lone window, their bodies seemed to be made of darkness and light. Her hair was spread out over the pillow and he ran his hands down the curls with surprising fondness. She pulled on his own dark tresses and delighted in the cringe he made while explaining that he has 'been meaning to get it cut'.
Not long before dawn, they slipped into sleep and Claire wondered if her Dad was worried about her.
If she only knew...
Peter was the first to wake, sometime near noon. He'd like to think that the bright light of day had brought reality back to him, and he'd be sending Claire back home with a pat on the head, a sweet smile, and a bright and shiny cherry on top, but it wasn't possible.
Even as he slid to the edge of the bed and left her tempting, soft body behind, he was craving another fix for his "Claire-addiction". They'd gone at it all night, starting as soon as they'd walked in the door and then five more times. He knew she healed, but even she might be sore after all that.
Thank gawd for healing powers.
With a wince and a small groan, Peter stood and slipped on his clothes. He'd go grab some coffee, maybe some fruit, and be back in time to wake her up properly...then get down to talking.
Although, when Claire woke up he wasn't there, most likely because when he closed the door he woke her. She wasn't sore, or satiated, and was disappointed he was gone. Even as she stretched in bed, her hand reached for her cell phone, ready to hear whatever tirade her Dad left on the voicemail. She was just punching in the numbers of her code when the door slammed open. Peter walked in, slamming it again before throwing the Odessa Times on the bed and explaining, "We've got a problem."
Shutting the phone without listening, she pulled the covers up over her breasts and reached for the paper. The headline was big and bold, taking up half the page, "High School Hero Murdered!" Claire could barely read as her body began to shake, and Peter sat next to her, pulling the paper from her hands as her mind caught up.
"Jackie is...dead?" She couldn't truly believe it, but somewhere in her heart she knew it was true. Something in Peter's gaze, the guilt or the sadness, made her think it might be her fault.
"Yes," he framed her face with her hands, "but it's not your fault. I think this is what I was supposed to save you from."
"Save me from?"
"I need you. According to Hiro and Isaac, I need you to save the world, starting with New York."
She was confused, sad, and very guilty, but she listened as Peter laid it out and could only sit there silently when he finished.
"So, New York is going to blow up?"
"Yeah, we just don't know how."
Claire nodded. "I think I want to go home."
Peter stood, pacing around the room as thoughts spun in his mind. "I'm not sure you can. Look, this guy that killed Jackie, he's still out there. Most likely still here since he knows by now she wasn't special like us. He's looking for you, Claire. I think he'll try and go after you again."
She stood as well, pulling the cover around her as she did so. "What am I supposed to do then? Spend the rest of my life hiding?"
Peter froze, staring into space as a thought occurred to him. "You could come with me."
"With you where?"
He looked at her. "To New York. It's...illegal to take you over state borders, but I think it might be the only way to keep you safe."
Claire looked ready to cry. "I don't know if I can do that."
Peter tried to go to her, to hold her, but she kept backing up. "Claire-"
"No. Just shut up for a minute. I've got all this information going round in my head and I'm trying to make sense of it." She gazed into space, the pieces clicking even as she felt her old life fading faster and faster. "Yesterday I was just Claire Bennet. A girl with a secret trying to be normal. I don't think I can be Claire the Hero."
Peter finally got close enough to place his hand on her cheek. "I think you already are."
"Oh, Peter..." Claire whispered as she let him hold her.
Had it really been just yesterday that they'd met?
It felt like a lifetime between sneaking out of the house and this tender moment in some cheap motel outside of Odessa. The things she'd done and had done to her. The things she learned and the things she'd ignored.
Leaning back, she pressed her forehead to his, making a momentous decision she wasn't sure was the right one. "I'll go with you, but we better move fast."