Hey guys, sorry it took me so long to update; I've been really busy, and I've began to write another story. I'm bad, I know.

Here it is though.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed it really helps me to figure out where this story is going.

I noticed a lot of you were angry about Peter being referred to as "tall, dark, and handsome." I just like messing with you. I'm not a fan of Peter, hopefully I've made up to you with his depiction in this chapter.

There is a new transition style in this chapter; if you don't like it let me know and I'll go back to my old ways.

Reviews are always helpful and appreciated; good or bad.

Thank you and happy reading.

Chapter 7

"You can open your eyes now Claire," Peter told her. Claire reluctantly did as he said; looking around and trying to get a bearing on where they were.

"Looks like a carnival," she shrugged.

"Yep," Peter also took a turn to scan their surroundings.

"Always said I belonged at a freak show; just never took it so literally," Claire muttered.

"You're not a freak Claire," he insisted, but she wasn't listening.

Answers… maybe she didn't want to figure everything out. What if the truth was too much to handle? It already felt like reality was bound to crush and suffocate her.

"Maybe we shouldn't do this," Claire blurted out unceremoniously. Peter gave her an incredulous look. "I'm serious," she persisted." You don't have to do this, and now that I think about this, neither do I."

"Claire—come on. I'm here for you, to support you; no matter what."

"I know… but this isn't your problem; it's mine."

"We came all this way Claire, so you at least have to check it out," he told her and dragged her toward the entrance. A strange man who Claire assumed to be the owner, Samuel Sullivan approached them with a wide smile on his face and his arms outspread.

"Claire—so glad you could make it."

"I know it can look a little scary from the outside, but you'll get used to it," Samuel told them.

Claire barely heard him; her attentions were absorbed by all of the things happening around her. Everywhere she looked, people with abilities were demonstrating their gifts for small audiences; it was brilliant. Claire never would have thought there would be a place where she could be herself; where anyone like her could be who they really were. Samuel interrupted her dazed condition when he nudged her on the arm.

"Hey, free passes. The whole night's on me," he smiled indulgently at her, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. Claire handed Peter his pass and looked at him questioningly as if to ask if he were alright with this. He shrugged subtly but maintained a skeptical look.

"You like carnivals right?" Samuel pushed, noticing the guarded expression Peter wore. He was obviously not expecting either of them to say otherwise as he looked at them expectantly. Peter grew a smug look on his face and opened his mouth to say no, but Claire cut him off.

"Thank you, but we are just looking," she stated tactfully and clamped a tight and punishing hand around Peter's arm.

"Of course you are," Samuel replied knowingly.

"Although I'm not quite sure what I'm supposed to be seeing," Claire added.

"That all depends on what you're looking for." Claire was beginning to tire of all of his ominous words and answers, but normalcy seemed to be a short coming in a place where people made their money by being extraordinary. She supposed the old-world way he spoke was all part of the act.

"Do you like popcorn?" Samuel asked as they stopped at a vendor.

"Who doesn't?" Claire scoffed light-heartedly.

"Well this is the best popcorn in the world, and I'm not just sayin' that." He handed her and Peter their own boxes. Claire popped a few pieces into her mouth.

"Mm—that is good," she murmured happily.

"Tell you what," Samuel began, "Stay until you finish the box. Walk around on your own; meet my family. When you're done, I'll walk you back out and you both can go home. Just until you finish the popcorn." He sounded hopeful and excited like a little boy at Christmas. Claire couldn't help but to smile and agree to his proposal.

Peter had been completely on edge since they arrived at the carnival, and it was hard not to notice; he was positively radiating cynicism. Still she couldn't blame him; after all, that was the goal her father had in having him go with her. He didn't want Claire to get sucked into Samuel's illusion of family and freedom.

"What is it we're supposed to be looking at here?" Peter huffed in exasperation.

"I don't know," Claire answered honestly, "but I've got plenty left." She contentedly munched don a few more pieces of popcorn as they turned the corner. They were following the faint sound of an announcement. "Every tattoo a harbinger," it said, "her naked skin the canvas to rival Van Gogh." Claire studied the sign outside of a large tent. "Tattoo girl, The Exotic Temptress," it read.

"Sounds promising," Peter perked up and grinned at that.

Claire playfully slapped him on the arm and brushed the folds at the entrance of the tent aside. Their steps were calculative as Claire warily made her way farther into the dim lit tent. She took a second to appreciate the ambience with the old fashioned lanterns and various exotic silk furnishings. At the head of the tent was perhaps the most intriguing sight in the room. A beautiful woman sat in front of a vanity waiting for them to approach. She looked at Claire knowingly and turned back, allowing her robe to fall down her back and reveal her various tattoos.

"What are we supposed to do?" Claire asked curiously. Peter was obviously too distracted to pay any attention to their verbal exchange as he gazed at the woman, who lauhed and held up a hand.

"You ask the question and take my hand," she informed Claire. Claire was still skeptical.

"And you're like what—a fortune teller?"

"I show you what you need to see." It was Claire's turn to be amused.

"Like a crystal ball?" she joked.

"Something like that," the woman smiled coyly.

Claire decided she liked her well enough and stepped forward to gently wrap her hand around the woman's. She thought about the question she was supposed to place and decided upon the simplest of all.

"Am I supposed to be here?" she asked.

A design in ink began to branch out from a spot between the woman's shoulder blades. Claire watched with wide eyes as the black lines twisted themselves into the sleek form of the face on a watch. That wasn't what struck Claire as odd though; just above the hands was printed the name Sylar. Claire inhaled deeply as the truth of the matter set in. It said Sylar…. Not Gabriel, not the man she loved, but Sylar; what did it mean?

"What is that supposed to mean?" Claire asked doubtfully.

"This is your desire Claire," the woman told her; Peter saw the look in her eyes and immediately put a protective arm around his niece's shoulders.

"Come on… let's get out of here," he glared at the woman and led Claire away.

"What did she mean about seeing your desires?" Peter asked Claire. Clearly he thought she knew more about this than he did. Truthfully Claire had some ideas on the meaning behind the tattoo that had shown up, but she wasn't sure she was ready to confront the truth. Instead she lied.

"No idea," just that I desire Sylar. She still allowed herself to hope that it all might have meant something else. After all, they were at a carnival right? Everything was a game of chance; sometimes you lost, sometimes you won, but what if left up to interpretation?

"Are you in love with him?" Peter asked straightforwardly. Claire could sense more than just a hint of jealousy in his tone, but his face did not betray him. No one would ever be good enough for her in his eyes, and she would say the same about him. So really what did a character evaluation matter anyway? Still she wasn't ready to say it aloud.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Claire finally applied with a sense of finality. Peter picked up on it; he could read her pretty well. It was unnerving for her to know that he could see right through the carefully constructed lies she had attempted to surround herself with; to protect herself of course. Peter knew when and when not to press matters with her though, and he noticeably backed off this time.

"This place is starting to creep me out," he said. "I think we should leave." Peter was looking for an escape; he looked ready to leave since they had arrived, but still; he wasn't wrong. This place was starting to do things to her as well. Her head felt even more fuzzy and diluted than it had before she came. It seemed that she did however receive the answer Sylar had wanted her to. Claire looked down at her nearly empty box of popcorn.

"Yeah, I guess it is time to go," she sighed.

Claire had expected something else, something more solid, and as if on cue Samuel approached them then. Once again Claire was taken aback by his silent comings and goings.

"Claire, come and meet the rest of my family," he requested. "We're just having dinner." He smiled wide and led a reluctant Claire and Peter toward a large group of people. Some were sitting around a large far, sipping ale from pewter tankards, and others were dining in small groups outside of their trailers. Although no one was excessively friendly, everyone seemed to treat each other with respect. It was just like the dinners Claire used to have in the Bennet household, but on a much larger scale. Seeing the wondering look on Claire's face, Samuel came up behind her and clamped a hand down on her shoulder.

"We don't profess to offer much, but love we have; an ample supply," Samuel told her; his voice colored with pride.

Claire opened her mouth to reply, but then one face in particular caught her eye. The entire world ceased to exist as Claire remembered old photographs of her mother and father; the ones she had found in the box of belongings she was given with the watch. Claire's stride lengthened as she made her way over to the woman she at that moment believed to be her mother. The woman was the only person not otherwise absorbed in some activity; she had been staring intently albeit pityingly at Claire; it was a look Claire did not quite understand, but she felt reassurance in their attentions being mutually absorbed.

"Hi," Claire said shyly as she stood before her. How did you even try to tell a virtual stranger that you thought them to be your mother? Luckily for Claire, she didn't have to; after Claire had uttered that single greeting word, the woman looked at her more closely, and something shifted in her countenance. She looked proud but for some reason that would only make sense in a place like this; she didn't seem to be surprised by Claire's presence in the least.

"Claire," she breathed.

Claire and Peter sat with her mother Meredith inside of her trailer. They each sipped on a cup of tea to fill the awkward silences that fell between them.

"I didn't expect to see you here," Claire finally started.

Her mother looked down sadly at her cup of tea, "I wish I could say the same," she said apologetically. Her strong southern drawl was tainted by sorrow.

"What do you mean?" Claire asked curiously.

"Never mind that now. We've still got time." Claire began to worry upon seeing her mother unable to form a complete smile; she looked so sad.

"Time for what?"

"I just never thought this would happen. You're sitting inches away from me," she laughed and shook her head; trying to brush of the surreal nature of the situation as was awkward for both of them. "You're so beautiful," she smiled. "Are you a good student?"

"I guess so… I'm a freshman at Stanford. I'm studying biochemistry," Claire informed her.

"I bet you're all kinds of popular," her mother's tone was excited as she continued to guess things about her.

"Yeah… well I'm a cheerleader," Claire explained awkwardly. "Actually that's sort of the reason I'm here… I wanted to find out more about who I am… why I'm so different." Another awkward pause fell between them, so Claire took her turn to speak again, "so how did you end up here?"

"After I lost you I just started runnin', I finally came here a couple of months ago." It was clearly a subject she wanted to avoid. Her eyes shifted off to the side and she found a spot on the floor to distract herself with; finally she looked at Peter instead.

"So is this your boyfriend Claire?" Meredith asked a little more cheerfully; trying to change the subject. Peter choked on his tea and looked at Claire with wide eyes.

"Um…" Claire thought about it for a moment. It might be easier to explain that she had brought her boyfriend as opposed to a bodyguard. She had a feeling most girls didn't travel around with the company of their young and attractive uncle. Besides, what was one more secret; especially from family? Such were the ways of the world. "Yes he is," Claire decided to tell her and grabbed his hand tightly as if to tell him to play along. "This is my boyfriend Peter." Peter's tense mouth barely made it into a forced but feeble smile as he went along with Claire's claim.

"Hello," he finally gave a weak greeting to his brother's old flame. Meredith turned her attention back to Claire and gave her a look that loudly said that she had found quite the catch. Claire swallowed awkwardly and shrank in her seat; feeling for all the world like she would rather be in her room studying than forcing herself to yet again subject someone she cared about to such out of depth deception.

"And your father?" That got Claire's attention; she immediately snapped her head up to look at her mother. "I mean your adoptive father… does he know you're here?" she asked curiously.

"Yeah my dad knows I'm here; though he doesn't know where exactly here is." Claire thought about it for a moment, "actually, I'm not sure anyone knows where here is," she elaborated with a short laugh.

"I'm sorry Claire; I don't suppose you have the time?" Meredith asked sweetly.

"Oh yeah…" she glanced down at Gabriel's watch. 'Always working perfectly,' she thought. "It's half past seven," she answered promptly. Meredith stood up quickly and pulled Claire into a tight hug. When she released her from the embrace; she still held her at arms length and looked intently into her eyes.

"Claire listen to me," she said very clearly. "You need to get out of here; right now." Claire was hurt and confused; after so long she finally had the chance to meet her mother, and she wanted her to leave.

"I don't under—" Claire began to reply, but Meredith was having no argument from her.

"Trust me Claire; right now." She hurriedly pushed both Peter and Claire out a back exit, but they didn't make it more than a few feet out of the trailer before they were surrounded. Claire's disorientation at being hurried out in such a fashion only continued to increase as she realized that both her and Peter were surrounded by 6 or so of the same exact man.

"What's going on?" Peter asked as he pushed Claire behind him protectively; prepared to fight and lose to the six clones. Once again with uncannily perfect timing; Samuel appeared in front of them.

"You're going to do so much for our family Claire," Samuel told her reverently. Claire felt a needle sink into her arm as her ears began to ring and her head started to spin before the world completely faded away.

Claire woke up on the ground with her hands and feet bound; she writhed and tried to force herself to stand up, but something was preventing her from doing so. Claire glanced back over her shoulder to see what was going on; only to see Peter stuck in the same position. They were both tied to a large wooden post. Claire was hopelessly confused; she started to think that her father didn't know the full extent of what he was saying when he informed her that some people never came back from this carnival. Claire quickly attempted to cycle through all of the horror movies she had seen in the past, but no carnivals came to mind. She was on her own for this one.

"Peter!" She awkwardly yelled in his ear. He was still out; clearly his secondhand healing ability didn't work as well as hers. "Peter!" she tried again. Finally he stirred a little bit.

"Oh good!" You're awake, "Here I thought I was the one that was supposed to be protected," she drawled sarcastically.

"Where are we?" Peter immediately snapped back to attentiveness.

"Where do you think we are? We're still at the carnival, in a tent somewhere; probably being held hostage, as I can think of no other reason for our being taken prisoner." Claire was annoyed to say the very least, but it wasn't the first time she had been held hostage. With her father working for the company as he did, there were always people after her family; she was surprised that the Petrellis had not faced a similar problem being in politics.

"So what do we do now?" Peter asked. Claire was beginning to think him entirely useless. With the macho, overprotective façade he tried so hard to maintain long gone; Peter was beginning to seem more of a nuisance than a help.

"What powers do you have right now?" Claire demanded.

"Flight, camouflage, and yours," Peter replied warily. Claire rolled her eyes and groaned in annoyance.

"Alright," she considered them for a moment, "well those are entirely useless in this situation," she tried her best to think of a plan. Odds were if they were here for a few more days both her father and Sylar would notice that something was up; they would at least try to come after her. The only problem now was that she was not sure that either of them knew the way to get there; let alone their location in the first place.

"Coming up with an escape plan?" A familiar and thick accented voice interrupted Claire's thoughts. She glared up at Samuel.

"Is this how you treat family?" Claire asked snidely.

"I'm sorry Claire. I truly am, but I need to do what is necessary to protect my family." Claire snorted in disgust; his apology actually sounded sincere.

"What do you mean?"

"It's that father of yours Claire," he explained.

"Who—Nathan?" Claire was confused. Her dad had briefly mentioned that Nathan was not someone she should trust in these matters, but she had no idea how bottomless those cautionary words could really be, after all; he was still her father wasn't he?

"Nathan Petrelli," he spat the name distastefully. "You see Claire," he began, "your father wants to take my family; lock us up… run tests on us… try to make us normal." He turned his eyes on her, "but if we have you—well that's just a bit of incentive to leave us on our own for the time being now isn't it?"

"Yeah?" Claire sneered. "Well I've got all the time in the world," she continued confidently; knowing full well that it was only a matter of time before either her father or Sylar came to rescue her. She remembered all the times her father had rushed off to save her. He dropped everything, and all the while he knew that she couldn't be killed; he just didn't want her to get hurt. Claire thought of her father with fond memories now; he was her hero, that much was for sure. Here was the real question? Who cared more about their obsession, the hero or the villain? Who would be the one to come after her first?

Claire couldn't think of a more boring person to be tied up to for a week; Peter did little else but complain. She shuddered to imagine a world where it was only her and him left to entertain each other; what a tragedy that would be. It was funny how the more time you spent with a person, the less you seemed to enjoy their company—it became less… novel; given that your adoration of them is more of an infatuation as opposed to a sincere affection. It was all about time; didn't Sylar have that right?

"Do you want to play truth or dare?" Claire asked Peter jokingly.

"Very funny," he growled and was silent for a moment… "Truth," he ceded. Claire managed a laugh at that.

"When did you lose your virginity?"

"Oh come on Claire!" Peter became flustered. "That's… that's inappropriate," he sputtered.

"You said truth," she reminded him.

"As opposed to 'dare—get me the fuck out of here?'" he grumbled sardonically.

"Don't worry about it," Claire told him flippantly, though truthfully a week without food or water was beginning to take its toll on both of them; the hot sun beaming down upon them dehydrated them both much faster than they would have thought. What better person to hold hostage though than a person who could regenerate? They were completely maintenance free and had an unlimited shelf life; you could keep them for your entire life, and still die guilt free knowing that they will be free to live their lives again someday without worries about lost youth and time. While Claire was busy trying to keep herself entertained between vomiting and passing out (a routine which she was becoming quite used to), her body was constantly regenerating itself, only to repeat the same process over and over again because she still didn't have enough water in her system for it to run properly.

"Do you think we're going to get out of here alive?" Peter asked her. She actually took a moment to figure it out.

"I'm pretty sure my ability won't let me get past vomiting and lethargy as far as dehydration goes; death seems out of the question at this point." She was beginning to sound like Gabriel; cold and calculative. 'If I only had a heart,' she thought.

"I was looking for a little bit of hope Claire," he pointed out.

She laughed and repeated her unspoken statement aloud, "if I only had a heart,' she told him.

"What?" Peter asked her in a tone that clearly implied she was insane or at the very least delirious.

"Wait! Be quiet," she commanded. Claire heard the welcome sound of a gun shot followed by screams; she never though it would be a sound she would relish, but right about now; it announced the presence of at least one man she most certainly wanted to see at the moment. "I knew it," she murmured and let her body relax; smiling

Claire opened up her eyes to the most welcome sight she believed she had ever seen.

"Sylar," she mumbled happily as he helped her up. "You came for me." Her voice was sounded awful, of that she was sure; there was not a drop of moisture left in her throat. As if reading her mind, he held up a cup to her lips; Claire drank the water appreciatively.

"Not so fast Claire," he warned.

"My body works just fine," she told him, "like a car running on empty."

"My indestructible Claire," he looked down and smiled at her.

"Claire?" Another familiar voice asked in alarm. "Step aside Sylar," Noah growled menacingly. Claire's eyes grew wide as she realized that they had actually come together.

"I'm taking Claire home," Sylar stated firmly. Claire saw her father cringe at the way Sylar had said her name; with a tone that could only be described as religious.

"I don't think so," Noah challenged him and reached for his gun. Sylar immediately threw it out of his hands with a simple flick of his hand.

"I beg your pardon?" he gave Noah a quizzical look. Feeling almost entirely regenerated; Claire stepped between them.

"Is someone going to explain to me what exactly is going on?" she snapped and attempted to level them both with a stern look, but to no avail; neither of them backed down.

"We have to get out of here now," Noah explained hastily. "Nathan will be here any moment."

"Will somebody please explain to me what my father has to do with any of this?" Once again Claire felt entirely out of the loop. Caught in a dangerous situation because she didn't know all of the facts.

"There's no time Claire," Noah insisted. "Come on Claire, let's go." He roughly grabbed her arm and started to tug her away from the scene. Peter was still on the ground and unconscious.

"Wait!" She protested. "You're just leaving Peter here?" She switched angry eyes between her father and Sylar; neither of them seemed concerned in the least.

"Nathan isn't going to hurt his own brother," Noah mentioned flippantly. Claire wasn't convinced. Clearly he had no regard for family if he would harm his daughter, and Nathan actually liked her. Claire silently implored Sylar to help her out.

"Frankly I don't give a damn about Peter Petrelli," Sylar responded to her unspoken plea. "He couldn't even protect you Claire. Peter is useless to me." A flash of anger ran through Claire at that. God damn sociopaths—they only cared about themselves.

"Yes but not to me," Claire stated clearly. Her and Sylar locked eyes for a moment; he looked positively livid.

"Fine!" he snarled angrily and went back to get Peter; leaving Claire in the equally capable hands of her father; she imagined the internal victory he must have been celebrating at having his daughter finally choose him over Sylar.

"You didn't think I would make it that easy did you?" A smug voice came from behind Claire.

Tbc.