She doesn't know when it changes, but one moment her own breath stings and suffocates her lungs, the next a fresh breeze washes over every exposed inch of her body, soothing cool and calmness intermingled with the low hum of Peter's murmuring. He's whispering but it's frantic and tight and so low she can hardly hear it, but it's there.
"It's over?" Her voice comes out so tiny and helpless, enough to make her wince. But it's okay because Peter just gazes quietly down, gently squeezes her arms before letting them slide to the side.
He should know by now he doesn't have to let her go. Claire feels so comfortable with him; doesn't need him to yield to family propriety over whatever connection they share.
Realises the truth that's been right in front of her this whole time; that she and Peter are connected, beyond destiny, even family. Soul mates for want of better words but even that confines whatever they have to earthly reality; it's only in dreams they can appreciate feel how close they are and always will be.
"I'm so sorry." He sighs softly into her hair, his breath tingling her skin. He's so soft and warm, inviting and comforting and reminds her of every piece of home she's left behind.
"Don't be. Please don't be. You're here now." Claire knows in real life – although this is more real than anything she'll ever feel – she never would dare say words like these, stripped of all pretence where nuances mean so little and the meaning so much.
He looks down, strokes her hair fondly, half with amazement and the other half with wonder. "You keep on doing this. Saving me."
"I need you."
Three little words, so simple but she uses them with such devastating effect. If she's a tiny bit more lucid she'd describe them as literally casting a spell over him; he's stunned and amazed and they just stare in wordless contemplation as the mild breeze ruffles their hair, swirling their clothes into the azure sky.
"I need you too. Always have."
"Always will." The grin he gives is so light it almost makes her float. But then the moment stills and reality sets in, or what passes as reality here. "Now we have to find Nathan."
"I can't." His face twists into fear, but she's not about to give in to it. Because finding Nathan isn't just about finding her biological father; it's about saving Peter and to be completely honest with herself, she's doing this more for the latter. Knows here and now Peter's so connected to his brother that tearing him from Nathan will condemn him to a phantom half-life. And so she needs to push him through this, even though he's the adult and she's the kid but roles mean nothing here and especially not to people like Claire and Peter.
"You can." She'll probably forget this truth when she wakes but for now she clings stubbornly onto it. "You can Peter. Take my hand." Feels odd being this forceful and it's almost like she's playing his guide, which is strange and wonderful but everything feels normal in this topsy turvy world Peter's created for them.
Despite his uncertainty he reaches out, takes her hand like he's afraid it'll slip out of his grasp any second. Feels their connection pulsate with life as he looks deeply into her eyes. "Don't be afraid."
He closes his eyes; it's like she's suddenly seeing double and she realises she's seeing through both her eyes and Peter's. Or maybe Peter's seeing through her eyes, it really doesn't matter. His mind's suddenly so clear now, so fresh and serene and she feels his smile flow like hot chocolate on a cold winter's night into her brain, trails just underneath her skin. "I can do this."
Claire closes her eyes, smile mirroring his. "Yes, you can." And patiently, she waits for the answer she knows he'll find.
She knows Peter wakes the same time she does, even though they're in separate rooms and she's groggy and weak at first. The sun's half risen by the time she squints out of the fully drawn blinds, spares a furtive glance at Molly who's wide eyes stare back at her. "Hey. You're awake."
"You were dreaming." The little girl replies quietly. "You calling 'Peter'. Is he your friend?"
"My best friend." The words even take Claire by surprise and so she decides to brush away embarrassment. "Sweetie, does Mohinder know you're awake? He's been really worried about you."
Molly shakes her head, yawns then covers her mouth with an impish grin. "I'm hungry." Her smile's so delightful it lifts Claire's spirits; she tickles the small girl for a moment before promising. "We'll get Mohinder to get some breakfast, how does that sound?"
When she opens the door she finds Peter was just about to come in. They stare awkwardly at each other in the real world until she clumsily sputters about breakfast and bagels and caffeine and before she can finish he grabs her, maybe a little too harshly but after the butterfly touches they shared in the dream she doesn't mind.
"I know I can find Nathan." With that he strides past her into his bedroom, kneels on the floor just by Molly's side. Smiles and as Claire crosses to stand on the opposite side of the bed sees the twinkle and sparkle back in his eyes. "Molly? You can find people, can't you?"
She anticipates the favour and frowns slightly. Peter shakes his head though, gently covers the girl's hand. "No, I need you to tell me how it works." Leans in conspiratorially. "I'll tell you a secret. I can do what you do."
"Really?" There's a movement and out of the corner of her eye she sees Mohinder, keeping a watchful eye. The seriousness with which he takes his responsibility would have been awe inspiring, if she hadn't seen it first hand from Peter and her dad. "I've never met anyone like me before."
Claire knows how that feels, recalls the revelation that changed her life forever that night she saw Peter come back to life at Union Wells.
Peter winks, whispers softly. "I just need you to teach me how to do it properly."
He's said just the right thing because the smile bursts onto Molly's face again, and haltingly, then with growing confidence she spills her secrets out to the man with the gentle soul and heart to match. By this time Claire hears soft tinkering in the background and the sound of the kettle coming to boil. It's most likely her dad exercising sound judgement again and is preparing a much needed caffeine fix for everyone.
Soon enough her dad motions Claire and Mohinder out; they leave Peter and Molly in the room in whispered conversation. She turns her eyes on Mohinder, who shrugs. "She'll be fine now the transfusion's had time to work. She was probably fine a few hours ago."
Claire doesn't bother telling him Peter probably knows this anyway, but it's important for him to use and control his power; not cave in to fear and loathing because it's the easy way out for them, all of them with genuine power at their disposal.
She knows this first hand, knew it when she awoke in Brody's broken car. Power's deadly when used the wrong way and nothing that's happened to her since convinces her otherwise.
It's like her dad has power of his own, a sixth sense because by the time he gets up to check on Peter and Molly the two walk out hand in hand, the soft smile on Peter's face almost blinding her to the trust shown in the girl's eyes. As he gently guides her to Mohinder's side his eyes are shining; they're not exactly triumphant but it's a hell of a lot better than his wailing despair last night.
Peter strides first to her dad then turns to face her, determination palpable in every movement. "I'm ready to find Nathan. I know where he is."
They become three again as they part ways with Mohinder and Molly. Claire doesn't know what Peter and Molly talked about and doesn't care, whatever the girl said he's clearly ready to embrace the power she's inadvertently given to him in order to find his brother.
Time's running short; they bid Mohinder and Molly goodbye, Mohinder determined to remain in New York as long as there's danger of Molly's other hero not making it through the night. He knows he's as powerless to prevent death and destruction as any of them but embraces the task head on anyway. Claire's glad that Molly has at least one person who's willing to protect her.
So they get back in their rental car, a car that's seen a lot of miles considering it was only rented a week ago. She thinks back to the last time she was in the car before escaping in it with her dad; she'd run from Peter thinking he'd betrayed her. Only now she knows that had never been a possibility, never will be and she can't help but think that if she hadn't run from him, if she had trusted him, would things have turned out the way they did?
"Hey." Peter catches her, curiously nips her elbow to get her attention. She'd been staring listlessly at the landscape trundling past her while her dad takes the first shift and she starts a little at the touch. Jolts her like an electric shock which makes him grin a little bashfully as he carefully withdraws his hand. "Don't think that."
"Did you just –"
"Sorry. I didn't mean to." She shakes her head ruefully, decides it's an uphill battle she doesn't want to win. As far as she's concerned Peter's open to come into her head any time, why bother telling him to stop? After what she's seen, what they've been through, did they have any more secrets to spill to each other?
Maybe some, but she doesn't think about it. Besides, her dad's staring oddly at them staring at each other and it's a staring contest with no discernible goal and so she breaks it, beams up at her dad in all his spectacled glory. "How long is it going to take to get to Birmingham?"
Molly's gift should end up saving Nathan's life because after his talk with Molly Peter's sure his brother's in Birmingham, Alabama. A quick Google search reveals that the address Peter senses is the UAB Hospital; according to Mohinder it's a teaching hospital for the University of Alabama. Every one breathes a sigh of relief to the news, albeit in different ways. It means Nathan could still be alive; no one points out the obvious that all hospitals have morgues and depending how badly he was hurt it's also equally likely Nathan's lying on a cold slab labelled as John Doe.
Peter closes his eyes once in a while and she thinks she knows why, rather, feels she knows why. He's pausing to check on Nathan's location, convinced that if he doesn't he'll lose track of his brother again, maybe for the last time.
She'd asked Peter in all seriousness about literally flying them to Alabama. His expression had faltered but then a smile had fractured his seriousness, playfully pulling her ponytail. "I think both you and your dad might be a little heavy for me."
"I'm not ready to trust my life to you yet." Her dad had chimed in. "No offence."
It's just after lunch when Peter insists he take his turn behind the wheel and her dad relents, hiding a yawn in the process. Claire briefly thinks of throwing a tantrum about being shut out of the driving just to alleviate the boredom, but decides it's rather fun riding shotgun. Besides, the steady rolling of the landscape as they melt into an indistinguishable whole is soothing enough to almost lull her to sleep.
The radio plays softly in the background, she wants to laugh because it's easy listening for who she imagines is people over 30 and it's odd thinking that about Peter. She knows he's old enough to be her uncle so why does it surprise her to learn that he's got a guilty penchant for golden oldies?
"They're not golden oldies." He interrupts the easy silence with a smirk.
"You're just old." Claire taunts back, enjoying the light reaching his hazel eyes.
"It's called being in my prime."
"You're over 25, which is almost 30!"
"That's not old."
She ignores him. "You're old."
"Am not! You take that back, squirt."
"I'm not a squirt!"
"You're small enough to be an oompa loompa."
She sticks her tongue out at him in outrage. "Did you just call me an oompa loompa?"
His tone's contrite, but the sparkle never leaves his eyes. "Well, they're cute aren't they?"
"They're also really small and fat."
"They're chubby. And cute." He amends quickly. "So I guess … I just called you cute?"
He's grinning from ear to ear now, which goads her all the more. "Am not."
"So … you're not cute?"
"I didn't say that."
"So you are cute?"
"That's so not the point and if you don't stop teasing me I'll start calling you old Uncle Pete from now on!"
He pretends to think about it, which inexplicably pushes all the wrong buttons. "As long as you don't call me old." He finally says with a smirk.
"That's because you are. Why deny the truth?"
"You're just immature."
"Are not!"
"Children." Her dad surprises them by interrupting; she thought he'd been lulled into a well deserved nap a while ago. He sighs. "I can't believe I just said that." Grabs his temples as he stretches out on the backseat. "Let an old man get some rest, please."
Their conversation approaches more mature levels after that, and soon it's actually Claire's turn behind the wheel. Neither her dad nor Peter questions her place in the roster and she's struck again by how they've tacitly accepted her role in this; whatever 'this' is she doesn't know but she's proud to be included; feels like she's playing with the grown ups now.
It's a 15 to 16 hour drive from New York to Birmingham and they have to finally give themselves, if not the rental car, a well earned break. They're all groggy from lack and sleep when they find themselves in a nondescript highway diner around dinner time no one has to give it another moment's thought to get some coffee and basic food.
They haven't eaten since a very late breakfast (or early lunch, depending on how Claire chooses to think of it) and are tired and exhausted. Peter especially is showing signs of wear and tear which isn't surprising considering only a few days ago he'd been adrift in the Atlantic ocean. Claire doesn't want to admit it but she's finding it tough as well, her mind simply isn't used to keeping up such a breakneck pace.
But what can they do? Finding Nathan's her mission now; finding her biological father alive and bringing him back to his family is the least she can do to repay him.
The red and white linoleum floor reminds her of another such diner they'd passed; on their way in or out of New York she can't quite recall. Everything's being jumbled with fatigue, and when the sour faced waitress pours them cups of steaming hot coffee, it's all she can do to not gulp the entire thing down with too much haste while her dad excuses himself to use the bathroom.
She looks up, finds Peter staring, dark eyes drifting down the length of her face. Quickly she runs a hand over her cheek, notes her skin's pretty dry but hey, it's not like she's had any time to pick up any moisturiser lately, or do anything remotely normal. "What? Do I have something weird on my face? "
That crooked smile – she'll forever think of that as Peter's smile – is there again, brightens his expression. He shakes his head, averts his eyes ruefully. "I was just thinking."
He takes a careful sip of his coffee; stares at her some more and his intensity's getting a little discomforting. "And? You were thinking …?"
He laughs. "I was thinking about … how young you are."
She'd been expecting thoughts of a more momentous nature like saving the world or being nice to your family and so this just surprises her. It's very different to the easy banter they'd shared in the car only a few hours ago. "Okay …" Has to pause to compose her thoughts, gives him a smile that her dad's always described as being capable of lighting up an entire auditorium. "That's not a surprise. I've always been 16. You know, until next year when I turn 17. And just so you know, I'm expecting a huge present, enough to make up for missing all my other birthdays."
"No, I just … I was just remembering about before. Before I …" He doesn't or can't finish the sentence and Claire can't blame him. "Before. I kept pushing and pushing about you being here to save the world, I –" He laughs bitterly, turns his head away, finally resting on his hands cupping his coffee. "I even told Nathan you were here to save the world. And here you are, you're – you're 16 years old."
She laughs it off, but knows he sees through it; the pretence that what they're doing is nothing special, when it really is. "And your point is …?"
"I'm supposed to protect you, not drag you into all this craziness." It's not clear whether he's referring to the explosion, his dreams, or something else or everything. "And now your life's ruined and all you seem to do is save me. Me. I'm 26 years old and I need you to save me. It isn't fair."
Claire's heart skips a beat, or so it seems to her in retrospect but she's got going to dwell on the fact that Peter needs her; needs her to save him. She's about to reply but then her dad's voice cuts through their conversation, sharp and intelligent as always.
"I think Claire can handle herself just fine." They both turn, Peter's expression more guilt ridden than startled. Her dad slides next to her, takes off his glasses wearily. "We need to eat. We're about 3 hours from Birmingham."
Her eyes flicker over to Peter's; they're large and bright, no longer murky but shining with depth she can't quite get to the bottom of.
It's fine that she doesn't know, so she shrugs the mystery off. Soon their food comes and they all busy themselves with the mundane reality of eating. They have to keep their strength up, because none of them know what lies ahead.