TITLE: The Boy of Tomorrow
RATING: PG-13
COUPLE: Claire/Zach (Clach)
SUMMARY: To win the battle of the future, Claire must save one last ally with powers beyond compare.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own the characters from Heroes and am not making any profit with them. They all belong to NBC. If they were mine, then I guess I'd make Zach and Claire a couple and wouldn't let Thomas Dekker leave for „The Sarah Connor Chronicles" (because I would have hired him with a contract and not per episode).
AUTHOR'S NOTE: No Zach yet – and therefore not romance. I'm truly sorry. But we'll get there.

The Boy Of Tomorrow (3/?)
by Dare

Claire was sitting in her room, fresh from the shower.

The old concourse had been a run down building with broken windows and holes in the roof. Everywhere water had been dripping down and there had been signs of previous inhabitants: vagrants and homeless people, she suspected, but when she had visited it, it had been completely empty.

Safe deposit box number 1013 was a rusty, reddish bin at the end of a long hall. The key fitted instantly and inside, she found a large envelope, another box and a briefcase. She took them all home to open them there.

The contents were interesting, to say the least.

Magdalena had left – which Claire was grateful for. She needed to collect her thoughts and tried to get used to the fact that someone had known her for her entire life – and that someone had died over forty years ago.

The man, Michael Banks, had left her a bank account which had been managed by a small office of lawyers, Rosencrantz & Sons. It was located in Midland, Texas. Letters and notes were attached to the information about the office, one of them said: "They will be waiting for you and instantly recognize you."

Also, she realized, Banks had included an idea about how to pay for her travels to Midland. She looked down at the baseball card, placed carefully into a small paper package. It was well preserved and looked old, but she had never heard of the man on it:

Augustus Joseph Dandelheimer – poor guy. With such a name, High School would have been hell for him. She decided to visit one of the local geek stores to learn about the card and if it was worth anything at all.

Furthermore, an old business card was included of a man, James Guildenstern, who apparently ran a cab company in her area – she had never heard of him or seen any of his cars. ("You need to pay him! He is greedy!" the note said.)

Further items included a white bunny made from a soft fabric with orange eyes and a strange, blank expression, a collection of old fifty cent pieces, a paper clip, and a cigarette lighter with an inscription on it: "The carpet is on fire."

Claire didn't know what to make out of that one.

She placed everything into her bag and after that, a very quiet weekend followed, until on Monday, she made her way to a store she remembered ... an old friend visiting. It was a huge, brick-walled building with a Chinese restaurant and a Pizza Hut cornering it.

A huge sign which definitely needed to be repainted said:

Ye Olde Geek Shop. There were pictures of the Death Star, Spock and a Dragon on it.

Claire just stared for a second and finally shook her head. The doors opened with a weird Shhhhffft sound and Claire almost stumbled over a huge display of Darth Vader.

So ... where is the archetypical geek to go along with this place?

She was not disappointed: The man behind the corner, tall, thin, gangly, with a pimple ridden face and flaming red hair, was reading a book called "The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch." When Claire cleared her throat to get some attention, the man looked at her as if she was from Mars.

Claire wasn't sure if he had ever met a real human being – or talked to a girl that wasn't a Trekkie, for that matter.

"Hello," Claire greeted him. "I, erm, found this on the attic of my grandfather. I know it's worth something, but maybe you could tell me exactly how much."

The man – his tag said Hermes – gave her a patronizing look and readjusted his glasses, when he leaned over Claire's card. He stared at it for a second, looked up at Claire, cleared his throat to an extend that Claire suspected him to have swallowed an entire family of turtles and finally said:

"Stay here. Don't move. Be right back." Then, he left through the door behind the counter. "Phillip! Leela! John! Hubert!"

"What is it, Hermes? Michael Jackson again visiting your store?" an annoyed voice came from somewhere in the back.

"No – there is, erm, a costumer, and she has an Augustus J. Dandelheimer card."

There was clearly some doubt. "The green-dot-version or the blue-dot-version?" a female voice asked.

"The yellow-striped version!" Hermes said, very excited. (There were no yellow stripes at all on the card, Claire noted.) "In excellent state! With the thin silver stripe at the bottom!"

There was some rustling and shoving, someone groaned and seconds later, the space behind the counter was crowded by four guys and a girl with violet hair and an eyepatch on one left eye. Claire tried not to stare, as the group of Lone Gunmen bent over the card and started to debate.

"Excellent state, really excellent state."

"Look at the fine lining!"

"And the perfect round corners!"

"And the smell of jasmine and lavender!"

"Shut up, John!"

They raised their glances at Claire again. "Well, Ringbearer, coming to the loins of Mount Doom. What can we do for you?"

"How much is it worth?" Claire asked.

Hermes stated an amount.

"You've got to be kidding me," Claire said.

"It's a perfect August J. Dandelheimer card!" Hermes said. His hands were constantly flying over the card, but never touching it. He was practically shaking. John had drops of sweat running down his face and Leela was searching frantically for a cigarette, as if she just had – Claire closed her eyes.

Don't think about it.

"It's practically holy!" Hubert said. He had a bald head and round glasses on a crooked nose. "The Holy Grail!"

Claire nodded. "I see." Things were getting weirder and weirder. "Well, then. I need you to sell it for me. You get twenty percent of the result, if you are successful. I need the money as fast as possible."

They stared at the cheerleader.

"Really?" Hermes finally managed.

"Really," Claire said.

She had never seen freaks celebrate and it was something she would never forget again. There were announcements of a Star Trek marathon among other things. When she left the shop, Magdalena was waiting for her, this time dressed in a marine blue Sailor-Moon-ish School Uniform with a skirt that was more like a broad belt, trademark loose socks and black-laced shoes.

"Very well done, Claire," she said and hoped off the hydrant she had been sitting on.

Claire waved with a small note. "How did Banks knew I could trust them?"

Magdalena shrugged. "Many reasons – the main one being that he practically knew everything relevant. What are you going to do next?"

"Wait for my money and then call that cab company from the business card," Claire said. She sighed. "I'm not sure if I can do the entire thing, really. My parents, my brother, my – my father. I just want to be normal and doing all this will practically catapult me towards freak-ness."

"You are not a freak, Claire," Magdalena told her. "You are just – healthier than other persons. You have to like who you are, otherwise your entire life will not work out."

"Funny."

"What?"

Claire looked at her. "Someone else told me the same thing."

Magdalena smiled. "Look – I know about your father and that your mother will be very worried. But I promise you if you do this, there will be no dire consequences for you. Everything will be better – for you, for your family, for everyone. But if you don't do this – the consequences ..." She touched her brow and looked down for a second. When her glance met Claire's again, there was a look of sadness on her face. "Everything will be lost. There are people out there who would kill for your powers, for your gift. But no matter how popular spontaneous regeneration is on the evil guys' Christmas lists, the abilities of the one person you have to save far out-powers yours."

"Why can't he – or she – protect themselves if they are so powerful?" Claire demanded. "Why do I have to do it?"

"The powers of that person are not the way your powers are – you will find out when the two of you will finally meet. Unfortunately, currently there are people out there who can manipulate times and space, can fly, create fire and all that stuff, but if you shoot them, drown them, strangle them, make them jump off a cliff, all of them are dead. You, on the other hand, are not."

"You expect all that stuff happen to me?"

"Theoretically, that stuff could happen to anyone," Magdalena said vaguely.

"Yeah, but apparently, it will happen to me. And what about you? Why are you in this?" Claire asked.

"I'm in this for a friend," she said. "I'm everything I am because of him."

"You mean, you are a wandering soul attached to a body because of him?" Claire asked.

Magdalena looked at her with some regret. "To some people the things you despise can be the greatest gift of them all. I'm doing this because I need to return a favor that is, essentially, unreturnable. And I'm doing this because of The Boy Of Tomorrow."

Claire sighed. "And because of the last part of what it takes to become human?"

"You surely learn fast," Magdalena smiled. "Look. I have places to go, stuff to see. You go to Midland to visit your lawyers. They know everything, don't worry."

"Are they like those geeks in there?" Claire asked, pointing with her thumb over her shoulder.

"They are worse. They will send you places to find him," said Madgalena. "The key to save the Boy. You'll see."

"I hate it when everyone just says You'll see," Claire grumbled and turned to leave for home.

The geek money arrived on Wednesday and she took some of it to pay the cab driver she was about to call.

When she dialed the number, a sleepy male voice answered. "Hello?"

"Er, yes, this is Claire Bennet. Am I speaking to James Guildenstern?"

"Claire Bennet?" the voice on the other side echoed. "The Claire Bennet?"

She frowned. "Erm, yes?" Claire said.

There was some rustling on the other side. "The Cheerleader?"

Claire sighed. "Yeah – how do you know about me?"

The voice, clearly male, grew excited. "From my father, of course. He was Mr. Banks' driver. I've been waiting for you like, forever! I know everything about you! It's my destiny to finally meet you, Miss Claire!"

Claire narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "What exactly do you know about me?"

"Well, that your name is Claire Bennet ... and that I'm obliged – and honored – to drive you anywhere you want, and, well, that you will save the world and ... there has been some debate what color your hair would be. Some said it would be red, some said it would be black and I thought it would be green. Agnes said it would be blond."

"Agnes Nutter, the witch with nice and accurate prophecies?" Claire asked against better judgment.

"Yeah! You know that, too?" The man chuckled. "You are so going to rock. Where will we meet?" He hesitated. "You do have money, don't you?"

"Yes, that won't be a problem," Claire answered. "We meet at Church Street. In front of the cemetery? At eleven o'clock?"

"No prob, Miss Claire."

"How will I recognize you?"

Again, a chuckle. "Don't worry, I know everything about you. I will find you."

"Ye-ah," Claire said, making it sound as if 'Yeah' had to syllables.

James Guildenstern remained unimpressed. "Great, I'll see you then." He hung up.

Claire stared at the phone and wondered what she had gotten into.

End (3/?)