Claire Bennet

San Ribero

She was exhausted, physically and mentally, as she waited on the beach for Alphonse. It was weird to see such a large group of people being run by someone who looks like he started school for or five years ago, still waiting to hit puberty. It was even odder to see so many talented people in one place. Claire sat in the warm sand, trying to remember the last time she got to just relax, and wondered if she ever would again.

Alphonse was headed towards, coming from the village, with a smile. To Claire's disappointment, Peter wasn't with him. This was going to be a lesson; she didn't know what there was left for her to learn that she hadn't learned the hard way, but she knew, Alphonse had something to tell her.

She stood, dusting the sand off of her clothes, and smiled at the two-thousand year old boy. "Claire," he said. "It's good to finally meet you. Peter's told me so much."

"Really?" she said, unsure of what she was supposed to say.

He took her hand and lead her down the beach. "It's okay not to know, Claire. Ignorance is bliss, as the saying goes." Alphonse looked up at her, with odd almond shaped eyes. "You, however, no longer have the luxury."

"Why is this happening to me?" Claire asked, reaching the end of her rope. "I'm just a cheerleader. So, I can heal. A lot of other people could do so much better than me. I'm not really that special."

"I know, Claire," he said, with his ancient wisdom seeping into his prepubescent voice. "That is the reason. The gift you are to be given is because you're not special. You don't have any need to do anything you think is wrong, and you're usually right about that. It's not for you to fight, its for you to protect."

"What do you mean protect? Couldn't you do better? I mean, come on, you've lived for centuries."

Alphonse shook his head. "I have my own burden in this war. This is yours."

It was Claire's turn to shake her head. She threw Alphonse's hand out of her own, and stopped. "What war? All of you keep saying that there is a war coming, and I have yet to see a reason to fight! So tell me, you ancient booger, what war?"

Alphonse smiled at her. "Are you that blind, Claire? I had such high hopes for you."

"What the hell does that mean?" She wanted to hit him. This little brat had no right to push his values on her?

"No, I don't have a right, and I'm not trying to," he said.

She shoved him to the ground. "Stay out of my head, you little munchkin!"

"If you wish," Alphonse said, picking himself up. "Seriously, haven't you seen what is going on? New York, Blueberry Hill; the mutants of the world will not stand for it, neither will the other countries who have found a niche for every talented individual they've come across. In small, rural communities in third world countries, there are mutants with dangerous gifts utilizing them to create power for others. It goes far deeper than you or I have seen, Claire. Besides, normal people are threatened by our existence. They see this as evolution. It is, in a way, I suppose, but we have always been here, ready to come to the good of mankind. But man is a prideful creature. They see themselves as the top of the evolutionary chain. We are high on the chain, higher than others, but even we know that we could better."

"So, you're telling me we have to fight because they don't like us? Why don't we just leave, form our own country or something!"

"Do you think they will let us go without a fight?" Alphonse asked. "Just remember your American Civil War. People tried to leave, and the others forced them to stay. It will be the same way. Besides, where would go?"

Claire was livid. Everything she said, every argument she had, Alphonse was ready. "Somewhere we are wanted!" She screamed it, and for a moment or two, there was no sound but the echo.

Finally, Alphonse looked up. "Where is that?" he asked, and she had no answer. Their kind were forever hidden, and now that the world knows, they were being chased down, hunted, imprisoned, and in a few cases, tortured. There was no answer.

"What do I have to do?" she said, giving in.

Alphonse took her hand again, this time taking her back to the village. "You must receive the gift when it arrives, and then you must leave. You must find others like us, and get them to take up the mantle. You must live, Claire Bennet. You must take the All-Gift to the next person, whenever they show themselves to you."

Elle Bishop

San Ribero

Elle moved through the hallways of the apartment buildings, where the people of San Ribero lived, looking for Peter's place. She smiled, dressed in her best dress and carrying a picnic basket. It occurred to her that Peter would want to spend time with his niece, but then she shoved the though out of her mind. Peter was hers now, and Claire could just back off for a while. It was Elle's turn.

She knocked on the door, waiting for the answer. When the door opened and Peter saw Elle, his face dropped. He clearly didn't want to see her. "Elle, what is it?" he asked.

Elle swallowed back her tears. "I…I just wanted to bring you this, so you could take Claire for a picnic." She handed him the basket.

Peter opened the door wide, taking the basket and hugging Elle. "Thank you, Elle." As soon as he let go, she was gone.

She burst into her room, tears flowing freely now, and she wanted to scream. She tipped the dresser over, ripped the drawers out, and threw her clothes everywhere. When is it my turn to be happy? When do I get what I want? Why do I still fight for people who see right through me?

Sparks flew out of her hands as she tried to flip the cot, but it was nailed down. Instead, she got an idea. She could make Peter see her. She could fight, not for him, but against him. She wouldn't hurt him; she wasn't sure she could, but she could make him see her.

Then, the sparks died out. That was the old way of doing things. She needed to be persistent and understanding. It's not look Claire could ever love Peter the way she did. They were related after all. She looked up at the one picture that hung from her walls, a picture of Michael. "Thank you," she said. "Thank you for showing me."

She stood, smoothed her dress, and walked out of her apartment. Yes, she thought. There is another way. I could just keep at it until he realizes what he's missing out on. She sighed, heading out into the small village. If there was any course of action to take, that was it.

Peter Petrelli

San Ribero

Peter joined Claire and Alphonse on the beach, hoping to talk to his niece alone. Alphonse looked up at Peter, with his usual smile, and nodded. "She knows, Peter, what she has to do."

Ah man, he thought. "Don't you think it could've waited a little longer? Let her, you know, rest up a bit before you sprang that on her?"

The little boy shook his head. "It had to be done. As does this, Peter, even though you won't like it at first, it is the final step in your ability training." Peter felt Alphonse's mind touch his own. Peter, this will sting a bit at first, and it will be unnerving, but with Claire her, you will be safe, okay?

Peter nodded, knowing that he was about to get a new ability, and then it hit him. The world swelled in his vision and Claire was reduced to a swirl of lights and colors. It was the blood red that encircled her like a snake eating it's own tail.

He looked over at Alphonse, who was even worse off than Claire. Too many of the bands surrouneded him, like when someone overloads their fingers with rubber bands, too tightly strapped. "It's a form of power sensing you're going through," Alphonse said. "With practice, you will be able to shut it off on your own. What you are seeing is the aura of energy that abilities give off. Tell me what you see on Claire."

The lights that were Claire moved around, making the whole things swerve. Peter felt drunk, and falling over. It all blurred. He reached out to stop her, but his hand passed through the colors and he touched something that made Claire gasp. "What do you think you're doing?" she asked, rather upset.

"I can't see you too well," Peter said, hoping she would understand. He doubted it; she couldn't know what was happening. "Just please stop moving."

Alphonse backed him up. "All he can make out is colored lights that are spreading out from your body. What he did is because he couldn't see what he was doing." To Peter, he added, "What do you see?"

Peter tried hard to take in as much as he could from the colors surrounding his niece. "The one thing that really sticks out is a band of light around her waist, like a blood-red belt."

"Very good, Pete," Alphonse said, clearly pleased. "It's the energy of her spontaneous regeneration. You will encounter other red strings, but I doubt many of them will be the exact same color. Now shut your eyes and feel for the talent. I don't want you to purge it, just turn it off."

Pete shut his eyes, feeling for that little muscle in his brain, the one that controlled his talents once he'd absorbed them. He knew which one he wanted, and flexed it. When he opened his eyes, Claire was staring at him like he was a freak, and the colors were gone. "Next time, Al, give me a little more warning."

Elle Bishop

San Ribero

She returned to her room with the box of her new outfit. This once was sure to please Pete, get his attention. She smiled. She had him now. She stuffed in the back of her closet, and left the building.

Elle walked tall in the community. Not many of the others knew Peter as well as she did; they knew only Vann or Elijah or Alphonse. A number of people asked about Pete, wondering who he was most like. Elle never told them a straight answer, relishing the attention the knowledge brought.

The truth was, she never really changed. Elle was what she was, and she liked it. Now, she wanted Peter to like it, too. The only problem was getting him to see her for what she was.

She made her way down to the beach and watched as Peter hugged Claire. She didn't really know why, but Elle suddenly hated the cheerleader. She sneered at the image of the two hugging and turned away.

Elle thought about the box in the back of her closet, knowing that it would be all the weapon she needed to win the war with Peter. Claire didn't stand a chance. If Peter wants a cheerleader, she thought, then I'll just have to be one.

(A/N – For those of you who are dislike so many characters, I have good news and bad news. Only a few characters will be leaving for good in this arc, less than I wanted anyway, and I have a few more coming in. However, to balance it out, a great deal of characters will be fading out to become not main characters, but background characters. I just can't do everything I want with them all, so I'm picking a few to headline in the war, especially since my weakness is in the massive fight scenes. I never know how much detail to go into, so I either go too far or not far enough. Either way, the number of characters will drastically drop in the next few chapters.

With Love, Traumedy101)