Bone marries bone. Muscle and tissue regenerate and heal when everything in medical science says it will not, can not happen. And yet, in the case of Peter Petrelli, it was happening. The doctors and nurses still called his condition guarded, but the truth was, Peter was improving, in direct defiance of their earlier predictions. The respirator had been removed two days ago, hours after Claire appeared at Peter's bedside. But, Peter still hadn't opened his eyes at all. Slowly, the pallor had disappeared, replaced by a healthy flush on Peter's face that Nathan secretly thanked God for. It seemed now that his brother was merely sleeping, a profound and untroubled rest that Nathan or Claire Bennett appreciated, but were unable to share.

Nathan Petrelli had been through this before. His wife's recovery from their car accident six months ago had been difficult, but he remembered his bedside vigil in vivid detail. The girl, Claire, had not left Peter's side for longer than it took to shower or to use the bathroom since she'd arrived. The nurses had taken pity on her and supplied her with fresh green scrubs, to sleep in, as well as a reclining chair she could curl up in to sleep if she wanted to. If it was wearing on her, Nathan had no idea. She simply persevered, reading to Peter from a book she'd pulled out of her backpack, holding his hand, or simply commenting on what was on the television from time to time. It was Claire's hand Peter would close his own around from time to time, even if Nathan were there on the other side of the bed. It was Claire's voice Peter seemed to respond to. Right now, watching from the other side of the glassed wall, Nathan saw Claire wipe Peter's forehead, keeping up the running commentary that had been the soundtrack of the last few days. Nathan remembered composing a similar one for Heidi, about the boys, Peter, the campaign, his parents, whatever he could think of. But Claire Bennett was not Peter's wife. She was a girl from Odessa, Texas whose primary concern three days ago was what lip gloss matched her math book or whatever teenage girls worry about today. Nathan pushed the door tot he room open quietly and listened.

"I went to the cafeteria before, and they had catfish." Claire was saying, her voice soft. "I have to tell you, I hate catfish. Momma always makes it and it always tastes like mud to me…" She giggled. "I always eat PB & J on catfish nights. Do you like peanut butter and jelly, Peter?"

"He does." Nathan said, setting down the packages he was holding. "Strawberry jelly. When he was little, our mother couldn't keep enough of it around."

"Oh." Claire said, suddenly shy. "I just wanted to keep talking to him. The doctor says he can hear…the last brain scan thing…"

"EEG." Nathan interrupted, and Claire nodded. "That's what it's called, an electroencephalogram…"

"Right." She said, smiling a little. "Got to remember that. Well, the doctor said Peter can hear us. So, I guess I've been chattier since then."

"Go ahead." Nathan looked at his brother. "It's not hurting anything. At the very least, when he wakes up, he'll know everything there is to know about you. "

Claire sighed, and fidgeted with the sheet covering Peter. "I guess. I don't mean to be trouble…"

"You aren't." Nathan sat down and opened one of the overnight packages sent from his campaign headquarters. "He likes it, so keep it up." He waved at her, as he might have a staffer. "Carry on."

She didn't reply, but took Peter's hand in hers and sat down in the reclining chair, curling up so that she faced Peter. "If you're here, I'll go to sleep for a little while." Claire snuggled into the chair, closed her eyes.

"Yeah, okay…" Nathan said, not really hearing Claire, but, not missing the monitor register Peter's heart rate increase when Claire touched him. "I'm not going anywhere…"

"I'm not going anywhere…" Peter turned, and saw Nathan standing just behind him. Nathan, in his perfectly polished suit and tie, was every inch the Senator. "We're not going anywhere." He indicated Claire, who was still holding on to Peter for dear life, even as his skin seemed to blaze away from his bones and pain seared through him, a thousand suns of pain….Claire's hands were cool on his skin, her powers flowing from her and to him constantly. Because of her, he stayed whole, and when he could see again, he was on the pavement, in a crumpled ball, his head in Claire's lap, her hands gently brushing the hair from his face as if he were a small child…a ring of people standing around them in amazement. When he looked up at her, her tears fell on his face and made steam, but the crisis had been averted…

Not able to open his eyes, Peter rose from the dream state and quickly assessed himself. Respirator gone, minimal pain meds on board, the catheter was still in place, but, well, the IV fluids had to go out some way. Claire was sleeping, he could measure her deep and even breaths. He wanted to open his eyes, see her still alive, to touch her and make sure she wasn't some delusion he was having. Proof that he wasn't crazy, his theories about the weirdness of the last few weeks had been dead on. He also needed to find Mohinder, Issac and Hiro, all of them and tell them he'd saved the cheerleader, hoping that somehow they'd have stumbled on what would come next. What about Simone? Peter asked himself, and then shut her face out of his mind entirely. Being like this gave him time to think about things, really mull them over without anyone intruding, and Peter had come to some conclusions about things between himself and Simone. He had been a substitute for Issac, a supplement and a grasp at salvation that Simone had made. Peter wasn't even all that sure of his feelings for her, when it came right down to it. It seemed unfair, but Peter doubted Simone would shed many tears over his ending things.

"…Peter, if you can hear me, you really need to come out of this…" Nathan's voice was a bracing dose of here and now, and Peter became aware again of Claire's hand in his, sleep loosening her grip, but not the ebb and flow of her healing power as it worked on him, slowly repairing every internal injury, every damaged organ. "I have to get back to New York…the campaign is at a critical point, Heidi is panicked, Mom is panicked. We know what Mom does when she's emotional…"

She shoplifts, yeah, I know. Peter thought, remembering his elegant mother, broken in a dingy police station, as he knelt beside her and held her hands. "I wanted to feel alive again…" She'd said, and Peter couldn't wait to tell her what being in a coma was like. He seriously doubted that shoplifting a lipstick would solve his problems now.

"And…your little friend here," Peter knew without seeing that Nathan was looking at Claire, who was deeply asleep beside him. "Her whole life is crammed into a backpack, and she's not left you for more than ten minutes at a time for three days. Someone will be looking for her, a parent, a guardian, a boyfriend, and then what? I don't need the scandal…underage cheerleader found in hospital room with Senator's brother, news at eleven, right?"

There won't be a scandal, Nathan, geez. His older brother's concerns were wearing, and Peter felt himself drifting back to the world of his dreams. Nathan could obsess by himself for awhile, Peter reasoned and let himself fall asleep.

It was suddenly light all around him, and Peter saw Claire talking with someone, a taller, blonde girl that he recognized as the cheerleader from the trophy case - the one who'd screamed for Claire to run...Jackie…Both of them were in uniform. Looking over at him, Jackie waved slightly, a small, bitchy smile playing on her pretty face. She walked away, after giving Claire the quick, open armed hug popular girls seemed to favor, disappearing into the white brightness beyond them.

Peter opened his mouth to speak, and Claire turned, surprised to see him. Her cheerleading uniform was gone, replaced with the light blue hoodie and the cargo pants she was wearing when he'd first met her. Fresh, smiling and every high school boy's dream, Claire was smiling at him.

Hey...Peter said, and Claire bounced on her toes, excited to see him.

Hey, yourself. Claire replied, reaching out to punch his arm lightly. Ready to wake up yet?

I want to, but I don't think I can. Peter grinned, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. But, now I know what a statue feels like.

Claire's smile faded a bit. Are you feeling better, though? You look better. The electroencephlothingy was good…

Peter grinned. You can call it a brain scan. I know what you mean. Don't worry about Nathan. He can't help it. The fact that he corrected you means he respects you, really. I know it doesn't seem that way, but that's what it means..

Claire blushed. I wish you'd wake up. I want to talk to you for real…I mean…I don't know if how we're doing this, do you?

No, but it's kind of neat, though. I want to talk to you for real, too, Claire, Peter reached out to put his hand on her shoulder. He could almost feel it, and he laughed a little, realizing that dreams can only be so real…To thank you…

Peter….Claire's face disappeared into blackness.

"Peter? What's going on?" Claire sat up, rubbing her eyes, and Nathan shrugged, looking up briefly from his speech to glance at Claire.

"Nurse came in, gave Peter his medicine, more of whatever they're giving him for pain. Feel rested? You were out there for awhile. Thought you might need the room next door."

Claire nodded, sitting up. "I'm good for awhile. You want this chair? You could probably use some sleep."

"I'm fine." Nathan shook his head. "Get a couple hours tonight. I'll be okay." He looked at Peter and then stood, stretching. "I'm going to get some coffee. Do you want anything?"

"Just a diet Coke, I guess." Claire said. "Thanks."

Nathan left, and turned to look through the glass wall again. Claire was sitting beside the bed, holding Peter's hand between her two small ones, talking. She stood, and placed her hand on Peter's cheek tenderly and smiled down at him. Feeling as if he were intruding, Nathan shook his head a little and walked away toward the cafeteria.

"Hi." Claire said to Peter, stroking his cheek. "I wish you'd wake up…."

Peter fought against the effect of the painkiller, focusing on Claire's voice. I want to wake up too, Claire…I want to wake up and see if your eyes are really as green as they are in my dreams, and to just keep looking at you. I thought you were dead. I want to tell you that. When I heard those cops talking and they said the cheerleader was dead, I thought they meant you. And, I wanted to die, too, because I thought I didn't save the world, but you're safe and that means the world can still be saved, doesn't it?….Claire….

"iiirrreee…" His mouth barely moved, but Claire leapt forward, peering down into Peter's face.

"Peter?" Claire's heart raced. "Peter!"

Without opening his eyes, he sighed. "Bri…ig…ht…"

"It's too light?" Claire let go of his hand and shut the lights off in the room and came back, taking his hand in hers again. "Now?" He nodded a little and Claire pressed the call button for the nurse. "Hi." She looked down into his face.

"Hi." Peter Petrelli said, grasping the hand of his savior tightly. "I'm glad you're here." The nurse came into the room, looking down into Peter's face, opening his eyelids gently to flash a small light into his eyes before she listened to him breathe.

"You heard him talk, didn't you?" Claire asked, and Peter heard his nurse checking his IV's again. "He spoke to me…you did hear him, didn't you?"

"I sure did, Sugar. That was some big time prayin' you must've done over him, girl, because this is as miraculous as I've ever seen. Peter? I'm Rose, your nurse. You're in the Surgical Intensive Care Unit at Odessa General Hospital. Welcome back to the land of the living, hon. You had us all scared for awhile."

"Yeah, I'm good for that." Peter smiled, his eyes still closed, gripping Claire's hand for dear life. "Ask my brother."

To Be Continued