Mr. Bennett often found that coming home from business trips was the most pleasant part of his day. The latest mess at work had not been easy and escorting Eden's body back to California for her funeral had been an unpleasant piece of business. Thankfully, her family had been very accepting of the reason he had given for her death, as well as the money his organization was able to offer them, as a life insurance settlement. The other unresolved bit of workplace unpleasantness had been drugged into a coma. Gabriel Grey, aka Sylar, needed to be dead, Eden had been right about that, but, you didn't kill someone like him that easily. There was a great deal to be learned from a man like Gabriel Grey, and Mr. Bennett was determined to do exactly that. Another issue was the escape of Issac Mendez. Somehow, Eden had played a part in that, but Mr. Bennett hadn't been able to piece that together. Eden's death and the near escape of Sylar had been too much of a diversion, and Mendez got away, without a trace. It was no real loss, since the painter was so hooked on heroin that he'd be dead before long anyway. He'd served his purpose. Claire was safe.
The driveway was free of cars, or bicycles, and Mr. Bennett wondered if the Haitian had managed to train Lyle into putting his bike away, while erasing any memory of Claire's powers. He smiled, taking note of the flower beds that circled the house. Bribing Lyle into doing it hadn't worked and after all the traveling, it'd be good to get out in the fresh air to tidy those up. Just one of those house proud chores Mr. Bennett didn't mind doing himself. Part of the normal, predictable day to day life he valued more than anything.
"Honey? ClaireBear? Lyle?" Mr. Bennett walked in to the deathly silent house, and remembered. His wife had gone to her dog show in Houston, and Lyle was at practice. Which left Claire…he looked at his watch. Also at practice. He nodded, glad that his life at home was in working order. Smiling, Mr. Bennett went upstairs to change, ready to spend an afternoon doing some relaxing yard work. Tonight, he'd grill up some steaks and listen to the kids tell their stories about school, grateful for another day where they both were safe and sound. Claire's bedroom door was half closed, and Mr. Bennett went to push it open. The room was in it's usual state of teenage disarray, and Mr. Bennett smiled. She wouldn't remember why, but he resolved to just take it a little easy on her about the mess. Being distraught over her friend Jackie dying was hard enough. Lost in his own thoughts, he missed the note, written on pale pink paper, that Claire had left on her bed, and the fact that her closet had been emptied. Had he read it, it still would have been too late to stop her, and, he would have gone to the wrong coast looking for her.
Sitting in her seat, in between Peter and Nathan, Claire felt her stomach twitch and turn, her nerves on edge. This was, by far, the most defiant and reckless thing Claire Bennett had ever done in her short life, even passing the 'suicide' tapes by miles. The thing was, even with the news of her father's activities still ringing in her ears, Claire had never felt so safe in her life. There was something about Peter that Claire felt she could trust in completely. Maybe, it was the fact that he'd thrown himself off a building with no thought for his own safety to keep her out of danger. Or maybe, it was the way he seemed to seriously consider everything, from what he was going to eat for lunch to what shirt he would wear on the plane back to New York. Peter was quietly thoughtful, seemingly calm and sure of everything. Claire admired that, because she wasn't sure of anything at all anymore. Finding Lyle and Zach with no memory and then finding out her father had been responsible for that had sent her world into a tailspin. Peter was the only other one that remembered. He'd come all the way from New York to save her from Jackie's fate and Claire couldn't imagine not feeling safe with someone like that.
It could also be, Claire thought, casting a sidelong glance at Peter as he looked out the window, once again lost in his own thoughts, that his eyes were the softest and loveliest shade of brown she'd ever seen, dark like chocolate and slightly sad. Once Peter had gotten hold of her hand yesterday, he'd been reluctant to let it go, and Claire didn't mind him holding it, as a matter of fact, not holding his hand had been very hard. She'd felt oddly uncomfortable when he'd woken up, like an armadillo on it's plated back, it's soft belly exposed for everyone to see. She had told him everything about herself while he was in that coma, and Claire still didn't know how much he remembered. Things like the jokes about catfish and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches were not so bad, but the other things, things about feeling guilty about Jackie, and losing Zach as a friend again…Claire had told Peter those things while he was in a coma. Claire would have never shared those thoughts if his dark eyes had been fixed on her intently while she spoke, or his long and slender hand reached up to cover his mouth while he listened. She'd gotten butterflies in her belly talking to him in the hallway at school Homecoming night, covering them with a flirtatious smile and her desire to not be late for the game, they'd been there just the same. Claire had even idly thought of kissing Peter, just to see what he'd do, the way she used to dream of kissing Brody Mitchum. Kissing Peter though, was full of it's own conflict and dilemma. On one hand, Claire knew that Peter sometimes looked at her like most other people did, seeing how small and pretty she was, and others, he had something like awe on his thin, pale face, as if she represented something he was still trying to understand. Kissing him when he was seeing her as the pretty young cheerleader from Union Wells High would be easy. When his face was full of that almost reverential awe, Claire couldn't even look at him, afraid that if their eyes met, he'd only see just the cheerleader again and forget why it was he'd saved her in the first place.
She looked over to right, where Nathan was reading some important looking paperwork and scowling. It must be a Petrelli family trait, like their dark eyes, Claire thought, looking at Nathan's large square hands, the air of responsibility and strength they exuded. Nathan was a larger man, physically, than Peter was, broader shoulders, more like her dad, Claire thought. He was probably younger than her father, too. Claire remembered the odd look that had crossed Nathan's face when she'd shown them the picture of her family she'd brought with her, almost like recognition, but also something else. Something dangerous and predatory and alligator like. After he'd seen the picture, Nathan had also stopped griping about Claire going with them, and instead seemed grimly determined to get her away from Odessa, too. That struck Claire as odd, especially since Nathan was some sort of politician. But, like her father, Nathan took control of things. Nathan had provided the dark underscore to the flight from Odessa, had dictated the note Claire left on her bed, directing her father to California rather than New York. The older Petrelli brother had kept this adventure from being about a romantic flight of fancy.
And, of course, it was Nathan who noticed her study of him.
"That's my bad side." He quipped dryly, and Claire smiled. "How are your ears?"
"Fine?" Claire replied. "Why?"
"Flying always bothers mine." Nathan said and Claire nodded. She handed him a stick of gum. "What's that for?"
"Doesn't chewing gum help that?" Claire asked, and Peter nodded, finally looking up from the window.
"Yeah, it does, chewing helps regulate…"He looked at Nathan, who was staring at him, blankly. "Just take the gum, Nathan." Peter smiled at Claire and went back to looking out the window. Nathan took the gum, nodded his head and went back to reading.
"Peter?" Claire turned and he looked up at her again. She swallowed. "Are you okay? You seem distracted."
"Yeah…just thinking about some stuff I have to do when I get home." Peter said, squeezing Claire's hand. "We still have a pretty long flight. Why don't you try and get some sleep?"
Claire nodded and closed her eyes for what seemed like almost no time at all before Peter was shaking her awake. "Claire? We're here."
"Here?" She sat up and looked around, almost as if she expected to find herself surrounded by skyscrapers and honking taxis. "New York?"
"Well, Newark." Nathan said, barely trying to hide his derision. "There's a car waiting to take us into Manhattan."
Claire nodded, trying to be brave. The fear that her father somehow be waiting for her when she got off the plane was enough to freeze her in place.
"Hey, it's okay." Peter said from behind her. "I'm with you all the way."
"Good." Claire smiled and she moved out into the aisle behind Nathan.
"You're going to like New York." Peter reassured Claire brightly. "There's a lot of stuff here." They walked down the jetway and into the terminal. Peter took Claire's backpack and shouldered it. "Might as well help you with that." He smiled and then it faded as his eyes fell on a woman waiting for them just beyond security. "Simone."
"Simone?" Claire frowned, and Peter nodded. "Who is Simone?" But Claire could see her. Older than Peter, in a dress that Claire's mother would have pitched a fit if Claire had tried to wear it, waving.
"Well, for lack of a better word, Simone is Peter's girlfriend." Nathan told Claire matter of factly. "She's an art dealer."
"Who just happened to know that we were flying in." Peter looked at Nathan. "Thanks, Nathan." Peter waved and then looked at Claire. "It's complicated. She's not technically my girlfriend…"
"Girlfriend enough, she's been calling every day to find out how you were." Nathan interjected as they came face to face with Simone. Claire hung back a little, watching the scene shyly, afraid to make her presence known.
"Are you okay? Peter, I was so worried." She hugged Peter tightly and then looked into his face. "So? Did you do what you went there to do?"
"I did." Peter replied, turning to Claire. "Simone, I'd like you to meet Claire Bennett." Simone looked at Claire coldy, the smile she'd greeted Peter with vanishing.
"Hello, Claire." Simone greeted her with a coolly polite nod. She turned back to Peter. "Is this the cheerleader? The one from Issac's paintings?"
"Yes." Peter said, and Simone frowned.
"Well, why is she here? You saved her, wasn't that enough?" Simone asked, her voice getting a little louder. They were walking toward baggage claim, Simone and Peter walking slightly ahead of Claire and Nathan.
"She was still in danger, Simone." Peter looked around, embarrassed. "Try and keep your voice down."
Simone nodded, annoyed. "Where is she going to stay?"
"With me." Peter replied, and Simone stopped in her tracks.
"Say that again?" Simone gasped, looking from Claire to Peter in shock. "With you? Peter, she's fourteen."
"I'm seventeen." Claire snapped, making Simone jump. "And I'm here, so don't talk about me like I'm not three feet from you." Claire folded her arms, ignoring Nathan's hand on her shoulder. "I'm not marrying Peter, for goodness sake. He's just giving me a place to stay."
Simone smiled. "Okay. Calm down. It was just a bit of a shock. Where is your family?"
"In Texas." Claire answered, not liking the fact that Simone's smile did not reach her eyes at all. "I don't have anyone in New York."
"Okay." Peter took Simone by the arm, looking around at the passersby. "Let's get out of here, Simone.."
"Right." Simone nodded, letting Peter tow her in the direction of baggage claim. "It's all going to be okay, Claire, you'll see…" She smiled again, the fake smile Claire recognized from school and shook her head, not very surprised that things really didn't change much outside of school.
"Tinkerbell, meet Wendy." Nathan said, and Claire looked up at him, annoyed. "Welcome to New York, Claire. Closest thing to Neverland that you'll get without happy thoughts and pixie dust."
When Mr. Bennett found the note, he read it over carefully, and then folded it, sliding the pink paper into his pocket. He'd tell his wife that Claire was staying with friends, and in the morning start the search for her. Whatever paintings Mendez had left were clues enough…Claire asleep, wearing an "I Love NY" T-shirt. It was a big city, but Mr. Bennett was accustomed to finding people that wanted to be lost in the crowd. It was what he did best. You could almost say it was his special ability.
To be continued….