Her boyfriend lay in a small alley-puddle, a bruise healing on his jaw. Her adoptive father was the one to put that bruise there with the gun in his hand. A creepy black man stood in the background and watched everything.

Claire wanted to help Peter off the ground, to try and explain things to her father in a way that would make sense. She wanted him to know that she didn't just up and leave Odessa on some teenage girl's whim. She'd done it to stop trouble from following her home, literally.

The indecision and insecurity her father's sudden appearance brought out in her, however, had her letting him take temporary control of the situation.

Claire let her father draw her away from Peter, who remained lying on the ground. He'd tried to get up, only to have the Haitian step on his shoulder and hold him down. No amount of trying could help him; something was interfering with his powers. Now, with cautious eyes, he watched as Claire's father, Mr. Bennet, talked to her quietly and walked her ever closer to the street.

"I've been looking for you for weeks, Claire," Mr. Bennet said in a slightly chiding tone. Claire didn't care for it, and glared at him to show it.

"I'm fine, Dad. I wanted to come with Peter."

"You don't even know Peter, Claire. You're in a lot of trouble; you've had your mother worried sick."

Claire flushed guiltily. "I'd have called but Peter said it wasn't a good idea."

"You trust everything that boy tells you?"

"Yes."

Mr. Bennet looked taken back, and shook his head as if to clear it. "This isn't the time or the place, Claire. Sylar is-"

Claire jerked her arm from his grasp. "How do you know who Sylar is?"

"..."

"For that matter, since when do paper salesmen carry guns, Dad?"

"Claire-"

Claire stepped back, looking at the man before her with new eyes. "I always knew something wasn't quite right. That you were hiding something. Who are you?"

Mr. Bennet sighed, wrapping an iron fist around her arm, now out-and-out pulling her to the end of the alley, where a car screeched to a halt and the back door opened enticingly. "Like I said, now isn't the time. We'll discuss this when you're at home."

"I'm not going home, and you can't make me," Claire replied through grinding teeth, looking over her shoulder to find that Peter and the Haitian had begun to tussle lightly, though the Haitian was winning since Peter couldn't even get off the ground to give a good fight.

"Don't be childish, Claire."

"Claire!" Peter shouted, pushing the Haitian away and standing. He started toward Bennet, Claire, and the ominous car, only to get tackled from behind as the Haitian regained his footing.

"I'm not a child anymore," she hissed as she pulled at her father's grip and halted their progress to the waiting vehicle. "I'm seventeen, and legal in New York. You can't force me anywhere."

"Claire, you don't know the kind of people that have been brought into this. They're not going to let you-"

"Let me?" She screeched, pulling away from her father completely and stepping back a few steps. "No one controls me. I decide," she said firmly, turning back and starting for Peter. "I don't know who you really are, but I'm supposed to trust you?" She paused and looked back at him forlornly. "At least I know who Peter is."

Bennet sighed, running his hands through his hair as he followed her back down the alley, waving off the sinister Haitian who hovered over the couple. "And just who is he, Claire?"

She smiled down at Peter, grasping his arms and helping him to stand. Peter dusted himself off and clasped one of Claire's hands, drawing her to his side protectively. Turning to her father, Claire smiled even brighter. "He's my hero."

Peter leaned down, ignoring the dirt and mud on his back, and whispered, "Is this the part where we run?"

Claire nodded, but added, "I'd rather hoped we'd fly. You did promise me a flight."

Peter shrugged, and waved to the two men standing several feet away. He spared a glance for the car that had clearly been meant for Claire and the figure of a woman sitting in the driver's seat, but he didn't recognize her. He waited for Claire to wave goodbye to her father before wrapping his arms around her waist tightly. Even as Mr. Bennet began to protest the closeness, they'd disappeared into the sky, leaving behind only a small cloud of dust.

Bennet sighed and turned to the Haitian. "Start tracking them again. There's only a few places they'd go." He didn't expect a response, and walked back to the car without waiting for one. Slamming the back door that Claire had never shut since she'd never gotten into the car, Bennet slid into the passenger seat and glared at his driver.

"I guess things didn't go well, huh?" Eden asked, running nervous fingers through her short hair. She'd never gotten used to this cut even if she did like the way it looked. She missed the weight of her hair.

While Bennet sighed and looked out the window, Eden fingered the small bandage covering her right temple. She had a black eye and several cuts and scrapes on her arms. Earlier that week, while Bennet had been distracted with finding Claire, she'd taken a risk and tried to do the right thing for the first time in her life.

Suffice it to say, it didn't end well, and now Sylar was free. If the Haitian hadn't returned at exactly the right time, Eden might even be dead now.

"You could say that. I'm going to need you to return to Dr. Suresh's apartment. Eventually, Peter will contact him again. I want you there to keep an eye and inform me when and where," Bennet explained, turning his head to stare at her. "Explain the injuries away with a mugging. I'll contact the Company and have them backup the cover."

Eden nodded and asked, "I guess you're not going to let Claire stay with Peter?"

Bennet looked out the window just in time to watch the silent Haitian disappear into the crowd on the opposite end of the alley. "It's not even an option."

If the views from Peter's windows were gorgeous, then the view from miles up into the atmosphere and floating above all of New York was positively orgasmic. The second their feet left the ground, Claire forgot all her worries and insecurities about the tableau she'd just endured and felt relieved to be free of it all for a few minutes.

It was cold up that high, and the wind buoyed them back and forth; the clouds they drifted through left dew on their skin and faces. Claire's hair fell from the rough bun she'd forced it into under the wig and tangled around her and Peter's faces. He smiled down at her and tucked her more securely into his shoulder, indicating they were going to descend now.

A sudden slackening in the force of Nathan's power in Peter had them plummeting toward the city. Peter made slight adjustments in their plunge, sending them toward the Deveaux Building. The large balcony on the top floor made for a perfect landing spot; it was not easily accessible, nor was it very visible.

Claire held onto Peter tightly and felt his lips moved against her cheek. He was saying something but the volume of the wind was so loud she couldn't hear. She glanced down past their feet and instinctively stiffened in Peter's arms as the buildings below came rushing up at them. If she'd had the time, she might've screamed...

They hit the concrete and stone floor of the balcony with tremendous force. Claire felt both of her legs break, indeed, shatter at several points. She collapsed at the same time Peter did and the speed with which they'd landed had them sliding across the balcony and into the wall. Several more bones were broken then.

Claire lay there stiffly for several minutes before she began to pop her bones back into alignment. She'd learned the hard way that if you didn't, they wouldn't heal properly. She'd had to re-break her right arm twice during her "trials of morality" back in Odessa after one of her first tries. Zach had of course not been much help; he'd been too busy vomiting in the bushes.

She turned to Peter, who was watching her with a morbid curiosity. She smiled at him and took delight in straightening his broken arm so it'd heal correctly. He swore and cursed her as she moved onto his legs; she explained, "If the bones are in the approximate right position, your body will just heal them the way they are."

"You learned how to set your own bones?" Peter was a nurse, so he did know how to do it. He'd just never considered having to do it to himself.

"Yeah, the hard way," she kissed his nose softly and rose to study where they'd landed. "Your landing is a little rough, lover boy."

Peter grinned and struggled to get to his own feet. There were sharp pangs of pain where his limbs were still healing, and his stomach felt like a rock, but he was alive. "I didn't expect it to be this rough. Couldn't slow down though, risk being seen."

Claire nodded and turned back to him, sliding her arms around his waist. "Where are we?"

"This is Charles Deveaux's apartment. I worked for him for a while."

"What happened?"

"He died," Peter said simply, sliding from Claire's arms to try the glass door that led inside. As expected it wasn't locked and Peter gestured for Claire to follow him. "I left some spare clothes here though, so we can get changed and head over to Isaac's."

"Is it still a good idea to go to Isaac's?"

"What do you mean?"

Claire sighed and sat down on a nearby settee with a small huff. "My father isn't who I thought he was, Peter. If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I'd never have thought him capable of violence."

Peter knelt next to her, squeezing her hands with his own. "Parents are never what they seem. There's probably a good reason why he acted the way he did today."

She smiled softly and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, drawing him into a tight hug. "I don't think he's a paper salesman."

"And I don't think we're in Kansas anymore," Peter replied sarcastically, pulling Claire to her feet and towards the shower. "Let's get cleaned up so we can get out of here."

Claire hesitated on the threshold, watching as Peter removed his shirt and started on his pants. He reached in and turned on the shower, finally noticing that she hadn't begun to remove her own soiled and torn clothing. "What's wrong?"

"This is Simone's place."

Peter frowned. "What-...How do you know that?"

She glared at him. "You told me about her, remember? Simone Deveaux, beautiful woman who owns an art gallery and has an interest in both you and Isaac?"

He stepped away from the shower and towards Claire, stopping when she put her hand out in a gesture for him not to come closer. He crossed his arms and went for as stern a look as he could. "Claire..."

"Don't say it!" She warned him pointing her finger at him in anger. "I am not taking a shower with you in your ex-girlfriend's house."

"Claire-"

"Nope."

"Claire."

"Not happening."

Peter removed his pants and let his boxers slide down with them. "Claire?"

"That's just sneaky," Claire hissed, turning away and refusing to give in the luscious Italian Stallion standing naked before her. He grinned despite the urgency of having to get clean and get out. Stepping closer now that she wasn't warding him off, he slid his hands down her arms. They were bare in the sleeveless tank she wore and cold from air-conditioned apartment. She sighed and leaned into his arms, ignoring the fact that Little Peter was pressing into her back. "I'm emotionally fragile right now and you want to take a shower together?"

"Nothing has to happen. We just need to be a bit more inconspicuous. Being covered in our own blood and a lot of dirt isn't commonplace. We'd get noticed and we'd get reported."

Claire let him pull her shirt off and pressed into his hands as he cupped her breasts. "Why do you still have clothes here?"

"I never picked them up after I left. I was too busy trying to make sense of some stuff."

"Stuff?"

"Saving the world stuff."

"Ah," Claire nodded and sighed; Peter slid her skirt down her legs. "Am I supposed to be inconspicuous in men's clothing?"

Peter paused for a moment before pulling her into the shower with him. His silence made Claire question his intentions.

"Peter?"

"..."

"Peter."

"..."

"I am not walking out of here in Simone's clothing."

"It would be better if you-"

"No."

Peter sighed, reaching for the shampoo on the shelf and pouring some into his hands. He rubbed Claire's hair, lathering it up good, before washing his own hair. "Okay. I guess a set of my spare clothes would be fine."

Claire glared at him and rinsed the shampoo. "How many spare sets of clothing did you keep here?"

"Two."

"Why? Did you take your clothes off here on a regular basis?"

Peter laughed and dug his fingers into Claire's sides, causing her to laugh and twitch in his arms. Pressing her against the cool tile wall he pressed a hard kiss against her neck. "Why are you asking so many questions?"

"Well, since apparently I don't even know my own father, I think asking a few questions is in order."

However, those questions fell by the wayside as Peter found a few delicious ways to distract her. Claire was just rushing toward her first peak, Peter's fingers stroking her close to a pinnacle when they both became aware of footsteps coming nearer.

They froze in their clinch as the bathroom door opened and a familiar voice, at least to Peter, asked into the steamy room, "Who's there?"

Peter cleared his throat and with his odd quirky smile replied, "It's Peter."

She was unable to resist.

"And Claire," she added with an evil glint to her eye. Peter's own eyes widened in comical shock and he ground his teeth as the utter silence that followed the comment became tense and uncomfortable.

"Peter? I think it best if you," Simone paused, and even without seeing her, Peter knew she had closed her eyes and was counting to ten in her mind, "finish your shower and join me in the living room."

The door clicked shut behind her and almost completely unwillingly both Peter and Claire burst into laughter. He was sure Simone could hear them but was unable to stop.

Fisting his hand in Claire's hair, Peter pulled her head back so that he could look into her eyes. "That's a fun way to introduce my girlfriend. We should do this again."

Peter thought of Isaac or Mohinder walking in on the couple in the shower and decided very quickly that that wasn't a sight he would appreciate.

Claire's beautiful body was meant for his eyes and his eyes alone.

Claire smiled up at him and pressed a kiss against his broken smile.
"Well...since we've already begun our fun we might as well finish."

"Simone is just down the hall."

"I don't care."

Peter decided he didn't care that much either.