Previously on Heroes (Storm Clouds Gathering): Everyone (except for Angela) is surprised to discover that Phoebe is the sister of Meredith Gordon, which makes her the aunt of Claire. Hiro and Sasha warn the others of the uninvited guest and Sasha's sense of trouble, so the banquet comes to a quick end, but not before one final dance...
And that's about it. It was a short chapter, I know. This one's longer.
Anyways, thanks so much to my readers, and even more to those who both read and review! Your encouragement keeps this procrastinator on her toes... or, more fittingly, on the tips of her fingers, typing like mad.
CHAPTER FOUR
"John Shoe… This is your friend, Peter?" Nathan held up the picture of the man with sad eyes.
Peter nodded. "That's him. I guess the Company's been watching him, too."
They were all sitting in the den of the Petrelli mansion, all but Angela, who had plead a headache and quickly retired to bed.
"And they watch Phoebe Agnew, too," Hiro spoke up.
"Yay," said Phoebe dully. She looked tired, Peter thought.
"So… Let me get this straight," Heidi said, looking around at the others. "John Shoe, Peter's friend, turns into a… doglike/wolf-like creature with… hands?"
"Right," said Peter and Nathan. Then they looked at each other, with matching crooked grins.
"And the Company, this hero-hunting organization that your mother was a part of and perhaps is still a part of, is watching him… and Phoebe."
"Yes," the brothers replied again.
"And this… watcher… who brushed past Sasha is probably from the Company?"
"I expect so," said Sasha. She was sitting very close to Hiro, shoulder to shoulder, knee to knee, as if drawing from his strength. She probably was doing that very thing.
"And we need to help John Shoe, because he helped Peter after that… explosion," Heidi continued.
"Right," said the Petrelli brothers.
"Man, stop doing that!" Peter exclaimed, giving Nathan a playful punch in the shoulder. He was sitting next to his brother on the biggest couch, with Phoebe on his other side, and Heidi on the other side of Nathan.
"You're the mind reader, not me," Nathan shot back wryly. "You're the one who knows what I'm going to say."
"Can we--can we make a decision?" Claire spoke up impatiently. She was leaning forward, elbows on her knees, fingers twisting together nervously.
"Well does anyone have any ideas?" asked Nathan, looking around at the others.
"I'd like to get in touch with my parents," Phoebe said quietly, not meeting his eyes. "But… They're traveling, something to do with Dad's work… I guess their cell phones don't have a signal or something." She sighed shakily. "So…" She finally looked up, meeting Peter's warm dark eyes first, then looking at Nathan. "I think I'd like to meet… my sister."
"But none of us knows where she is," Claire replied, crossing her arms.
"Peter could," Phoebe said quietly, turning her head to look at him. Her green eyes were pleading. "Could you find her, Peter?'
Peter nodded. "I could, I think."
"And I can teleport you!" Hiro suggested brightly.
"It's a thought," said Claire. "And if Phoebe goes… I'd like to go, too. There are a few things I'd like to ask my… Meredith Gordon."
It was decided that, for safety, everyone would spend the night at the Petrelli mansion. Phoebe felt a strong sense of déjà vu as she rolled her suitcase into the bedroom she had slept in the day she met Peter for the first time. That was a day she would never forget: meeting Peter, meeting Hiro in the coffee shop, getting attacked in her hotel room, discovering that the Petrelli brothers could fly… She smiled and shook her head. And here she was again, far more involved with them than she had ever expected. Nathan was fast becoming one of her best friends, and Peter… Her smile broadened, softened. She could not bear to think about a life without Peter…
"Are you doing alright, Phoebe?" came the familiar voice from behind her.
She quickly slid her suitcase to a stop beside the nightstand and turned to face Peter, the man she loved. "I think I'll be alright. I'm just…" She sighed, and even her memories could not hold off the sudden anxiety. "I don't know what to do about… my family. I love my parents, Peter. They've never lied to me before." She laughed tightly. "They never even told me there was a Santa Claus."
Peter crossed his arms and leaned on the door post. "You never believed in Santa Claus?"
Phoebe could not help but smile at the shocked look in his gorgeous eyes. "No. Never."
Peter sighed. "I'm sorry. Off the subject. Phoebe… Is there anything I can do?"
She shook her head, then nodded. "No… I mean, yes. You've already done so much just being you. Just keep… being you." Her voice faltered.
"Come here," he said softly, stepping into the room. He held out his arms, then drew her close when she came to him, folding his arms around her protectively. "Let me be your strength," he whispered.
Phoebe nodded into his chest, but could say nothing, for fear she would cry.
"I love you," Peter said, his voice low and intense.
She looked up into his eyes, tears slowly trickling from her own. Still she could not speak, so she nodded.
And he understood. "I know you do," he whispered. Then he softly kissed her lips.
Phoebe awoke a little after two o'clock in the morning and could not go back to sleep. Her mind raced with frantic thoughts of her long lost sister and of her parents, who had concealed the truth. Groaning, she sat up and threw back the soft covers of the bed. She stretched slowly, then got out of bed and grabbed her silky blue robe from the nightstand and slipped it on. Tiptoeing on bare feet, she went to the door and quietly turned the handle. She opened the door and slipped out, making her way toward the nearest bathroom.
Once inside it, she splashed quietly closed the door behind her and turned on the faucet. Something about the sound of running water soothed her, and she leaned on the sink, bowing her head and closing her eyes. Then she sighed and bent forward, splashing water on her face. She had always done this as a child when she could not sleep, and the old ritual made her feel more like herself and less… different.
"You can handle this, Phoebe," she told herself, shutting off the water and looking at her wide-eyed reflection in the mirror. "I'm sure there's a great explanation for why your parents never told you about your sister…" She turned from the mirror and walked out of the bathroom, reaching back with her telekinesis to switch off the light.
"Phoebe."
She jumped and spun around, covering her mouth quickly to hold back a scream. When she saw who stood in the shadows behind her, she sighed, lowering her arms. "Darn it, Nathan. You scared me," she hissed.
"Sorry." He didn't sound it. Crossing his arms, he peered closely at her through the darkness. "How are you feeling, Phoebe?"
She shrugged, avoiding his eyes. "I'm alright, I guess. I'm just a bit… overwhelmed."
"That's understandable," said Nathan with a nod. "But is that all?"
These Petrelli's and their insatiable curiosity! "Not really." Phoebe looked him square in the eye. "But I'm fine."
"Good," said Nathan. "I figured you would be."
Phoebe raised an eyebrow. "Oh? How so?"
"You're tougher than you look."
Phoebe had to laugh at that. "Well what do I look like, then? A wimp?"
"No. A girl," Nathan said with a grin.
The way he said it reminded her of her first awkward meeting with Angela, who had asked if Phoebe was Nathan's woman, and Nathan had replied, "She's Peter's girl." She smiled. "I suppose I do. And girls aren't tough?"
"I've met some tough ones," Nathan admitted wryly. "And thankfully you're one of them. I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't been there for Peter--and for me--during our last few showdowns with the bad guys."
Phoebe smiled softly. "Thanks, Nathan. I'm glad I was there, too. And I'm glad you were there, as well."
"You're sure you want to be a teacher?" he asked her. "I could certainly find you a job on my staff. I think you're tough enough for politics."
"I want to be a teacher," Phoebe stated firmly. Then she grinned. "And besides, who has time for any other activities when they're so busy looking after your brother?"
"Ah yes. My brother." Nathan peered closely at her, suddenly serious. "I saw the look on your face that night when he had to heal himself in his apartment. The way you looked at him…" He shook his head, seemingly at a loss for words, which surprised Phoebe. Then he met her eyes evenly. "I'll never forget that."
Phoebe felt herself blushing. She looked down at the expensive flooring, fidgeting with her fingernails. "I love him," she said softly.
"I know," said Nathan quietly.
For a moment, they were both quiet, then Nathan sighed. "We've got our hands full taking care of him, don't we?"
Phoebe smiled and looked up at him. "That's for sure."
Nathan grinned. "I think we make a pretty good bodyguard team."
"Oh yes," said Phoebe, nodding. "I'm glad… I'm glad we met, Nathan."
"Me, too. I'm the first… 'special' person you met, right?"
"Yes. I remember it well." Phoebe laughed. "You scared me to death. Here I was meeting this famous congressman to tell him that I met his brother in a dream, and I was sure I had pickles in my teeth."
They both laughed, then Nathan took a step closer to her, giving her a brotherly pat on the shoulder. "Well, I won't keep you up any longer. Goodnight, Phoebe."
"'Night, Nathan."
Standing around the corner, very quiet, very still, Heidi Petrelli closed her eyes. It couldn't be. Surely she was imagining things… Nathan and Phoebe? It was silly. Really it was… But… He had been in the hall with Phoebe--alone--before the banquet, and they had been holding hands. And now… Now they were meeting in the hall of the house.
She had only heard a few words and phrases, but it was enough to raise her suspicions. "A good team?" "I'm glad we met?" And goodnights?
Heidi quietly made her way back to her room, making sure no one else saw her. She could not just let this happen. She had to do something. It was unfair to her, unfair to Peter. That was it. As she closed her bedroom door behind her, she decided that in the morning, she would tell Peter what she had heard.
"Pack up, John. We're moving out."
John Shoe sighed and stood up from the table of his little house. "Why can't we do things here, Will?"
Will grinned that mischievous, taunting grin of his and shook his head. "John, John, John. I've told you before. The ones who can really help you are in Maine. I'm just a willing tool in their hands… as you may one day be. If they help you, then maybe you can do them a few favors in return."
"If they help me, then I'll be a normal person, and they won't need my help," John shot back, his voice laced with a rumbling growl. He sighed and fought to control himself before his curse could break out. Breathing evenly, he asked, "By the way, where's Roger?"
Will shook his head, and his grin tightened tensely. "He's not coming with us, John."
John frowned. "Why not? He wanted help, too?"
"He changed his mind," said Will, turning his back on the other man. "Come on, John. We're going to Maine."
It was early in the morning yet, but already Wyatt could sense a tension in the air as he arranged flowers on the breakfast table. Something was going on, maybe more than one something… He shook his head and took a step back from the table, cocking his head to one side to study the flower arrangement. Satisfied, he started to turn away. Then something caught his eye. Something was out of place on the table…
A folder. A yellow file folder.
Wyatt quickly approached to the table and picked it up. As he did so, a small piece of paper fell out of it, fluttering to the floor. The gardener reached down to pick it up. As soon as he did so, images and feelings flashed through his mind, but stronger than both was the voice.
Got to get out of here… Must find help… Safety… These people are crazy… I can't take it anymore. They may have John fooled, but not me. They'll never… Oh no! Here he comes! Must write faster!!
Wyatt opened his eyes and looked down at the paper. Scrawled across it in a frantic hand were the words: THEY'RE TAKING US TO MAINE. PLEASE HELP ME! YOU CAN FIND HELP AT BOTTLETREE. HURRY!
Wyatt decided that the would show the paper to the Petrelli's and their guests after they had a peaceful breakfast.
"Peter, may I… speak with you in private?"
Peter's eyes widened, and he raised one eyebrow. "Sure, Heidi." He let his sister-in-law draw him away from the others, who were headed for the neatly arranged breakfast table, throwing a puzzled glance over his shoulder at Nathan, who shrugged, oblivious.
Heidi led Peter to a small sitting room and quickly turned to face him. "Peter, how is your relationship with Phoebe?" she asked, narrowing her eyes on him.
"It's fine." Peter grinned crookedly. "In fact, it's more than fine. Why?"
"Peter…" Heidi twisted her hands together nervously. "I don't know how to say this."
Peter crossed his arms impatiently. "You can tell me anything, Heidi. We're family. You know that."
"That's--that's exactly why I had to tell you this," Heidi said quickly. "We've always been good friends, Peter."
Peter nodded. "Yeah. So what is it, Heidi?"
"Have you noticed anything… different about Phoebe lately?" Heidi asked hesitantly.
"Different?" Peter frowned.
"Has she been…?" Heidi sighed. "Has she been distracted? Does she talk about anyone else when you're together?"
"No… Well, since yesterday, she's been distracted about her family. But… There's good cause for that. Of course she's upset. I don't understand what you're driving at."
"Peter, what's she like around Nathan?" Heidi asked abruptly.
Peter blinked, lowering his arms and sliding his hands into his pockets. "She's just… Phoebe. I mean, she and Nathan get along really well, but… She's always Phoebe."
"She and Nathan get along really well," Heidi repeated quietly.
"Well sure," said Peter, rocking back on his heels, confused by Heidi's questions and responses. "Nathan told me he likes Phoebe. He thinks she's good for me. You know how Nathan is. And I think Phoebe likes his sense of humor. It's nice to know that my brother gets along with my girlfriend."
"Well, what if they get along too well?" Heidi asked tentatively.
Peter froze. "What do you mean?"
"I mean… What if Nathan and Phoebe are becoming too close?"
Peter was quiet, frowning. What Heidi was implying was complete nonsense, he was sure. Phoebe would never… But Nathan would. But not with Phoebe. And anyway, he's changed now. And Phoebe wouldn't agree to something like that, even if he wanted her to. No way. Neither of them would do anything like that… I'm sure… "Heidi, why do you think Phoebe and Nathan are getting too close?"
"Last night, at the banquet, she met him in the hall--"
Peter shook his head, relieved. "I told her to find him."
"Your mother told me they were holding hands."
"Lots of people hold hands. You and I have probably held hands before. They're friends. And what have you and Mom been talking about?"
"And then around 3 o'clock this morning, I overheard them talking in the hall," Heidi said quickly.
Peter frowned. "What were they talking about?"
Heidi shrugged. "I don't know. Something about being a great team and being glad they met each other."
"Friends would say things like that," said Peter staunchly.
"Peter, I'm worried," said Heidi despairingly.
Peter stepped forward and placed his hands on her shoulders. "Don't be. It's just all this… stress from everything that's happened lately. Our lives have changed, and we're probably all a little paranoid. I'm sure it's nothing."
She smiled weakly. "I hope you're right."
When they returned to the breakfast room, they entered just in time to see Nathan make some remark to Phoebe that made her laugh. Heidi shot Peter a sharp look. Peter shrugged, but he had to admit, Nathan and Phoebe looked awfully cozy sitting across from each other at the table and laughing like that…
"So… What's so funny?" Peter asked, sitting down quickly beside Phoebe and managing a smile.
Phoebe and Nathan looked at each other, then at Peter, both grinning. "Well actually, we were talking about you," Phoebe informed him brightly.
"Oh really?" Peter asked, reaching for some grapes.
"Yes. Nathan was telling me about some of the things you did when you were little." Phoebe touched his arm gently. "I'll bet you were the cutest kid ever, with those big dark eyes."
Peter grinned, feeling better about things. "I was much cuter than Nathan," he said.