Truth, Lies and West

Winter 2012:

Claire: West and I grew close in the days following the revelation of our powers. Being so far from home, it was nice to have someone to share the secret with. I think he felt the same. The intial loneliness I had felt in Paris was beginning to subside. I would never have admitted it at the time, but my relationship with Peter was feeling the strain. We filled our conversations with pleasentries about anything and everything to avoid the real questions that remained between us. Eventually the conversations grew shorter and less frequent. I had hoped my upcoming visit to New York would reinvigorate our relationship, but it was not to be.

"Claire," West Rosen called out from the next room.

"Yeah?"

"Can you get my passport please. It's in the top drawer of my bedside cabinet."

"Okay," she called back to him. She smiled and shook her head as she checked her watch. The taxi would be here in five minutes and he was still packing. She wandered into his bedroom, marvelling at how someone so disorganised had such a tidy bedroom. Carelessly, she pulled open the drawer and started searching for his passport. After an initial sweeping search with her hand she was unable to produce the travel document. She rolled her eyes. Reaching into the drawer again she pulled out a large pile of papers, tipping them onto the floor in her haste. Among them she found one very worn looking American passport. "Aha." She got down onto her knees and was starting to gather up the remaining papers on the floor when something caught her eye. A photograph. In fact, several photographs were scattered across the carpet next to his bed. Surprised, she picked one of them up for closer inspection. The subject of the photo was a pretty blonde. She was smiling as she held up her hand to try and ward off any more snaps. It was obvious that this tactic had not worked as she was in all the the photographs. "Me? But, when?" Claire cast her mind back and suddenly remembered their impromptu visit to Jardin du Luxembourg. "All of me."

"Did you find it?" His voice startled her.

She dropped the pictures and stood up quickly. "Yes."

"Well?" He raised an eyebrow at her stunned expression.

"Here." She tossed his passport to him, suddenly aware he couldn't see the photos from his position in the doorway.

"Thanks."

She watched him disappear before turning her head back to the images on the floor next to her feet. A sudden warm feeling rushed from her head to her toes as she remembered the feeling of West's soft lips on hers. "It's just a head rush, you idiot." She refused to believe it was anything other than her reaction to standing up too quickly.

Peter Petrelli's heart stopped when he saw her. Years had passed since their first meeting and still the sight of her still made him breathless. He was unaware that he too had a similar effect on Claire. She was all too familiar with the butterflies that filled her stomach. They grinned warmly at each other as they hurried to remove the space between them.

He enveloped her in a tight hug. He relished the feel of her body against his and the fragrant smell of her perfume. They separated slowly, neither wanting to be the first to look away. It was Peter who did so first. The small flick of his dark eyes reminded Claire they were not alone.

"Pete, this is West Rosen," she started the introductions.

"Nice to meet you."

"West," Peter repeated as he shook the younger man's hand. Nathan had warned him Claire was bringing a friend. A male friend. He felt suddenly inadequate as he studied the taller man's handsome face. "No wonder Claire likes him." A sharp pang of curiosity filled his chest as he watched them leave the airport. West politely offering to carry her bags. Claire politely accepting. "That should have been you . . ." The drive to the Petrelli Estate seemed uneventful, but Peter quickly felt like a third wheel. It caused an array of unanswered questions to emerge in the far corners of his mind.

"Need some help?" Claire stood in the kitchen doorway, wine glass in hand.

"Sure, Tex." Peter was leaning over a small chopping board. He smiled warmly when he saw her. "You could make a salad . . . if you like."

Claire nodded as she rolled up her sleeves. "It's nice of you to cook dinner for us, Pete."

"I try." He shrugged and returned to the meat he was dicing. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Claire gathered some lettuce from the fridge and set about creating a fresh salad. He was surprised by how effortlessly his mood improved in her presence.

"So how is Paris?"

"Amazing, beautiful, the best city in the world," she gushed.

"Best city in the world? What about New York?"

"New York is . . ." She took a sip of wine.

"New York is what, Claire?"

"Cold. New York is cold," West's voice boomed as he entered the room. Peter followed him with a wary eye.

"You would say that," Claire smirked.

"What's cooking?" West asked as he put his right hand softly on Claire's back. Peter's eyes bulged.

"Lamb Pesto Kebabs with Italian sauce," Peter stated.

West, oblivious to Peter, hadn't taken his eyes from Claire. "Pretty good looking salad you got there. Can I help?"

"No," Peter's tone was icy.

Claire's eyes met his with questions.

"I-I mean . . . Um, you're a guest here, West. We've got it all under control."

"Pete's right. Go and relax."

Pete watched in horror as West planted a quick kiss on her forehead. "Whatever you say, babe."

"B-Babe?" Peter stammered after the other man had left.

Claire froze. "He's just a friend," she lied. "A good friend." Truthfully, she didn't know how to define her relationship with West anymore. "We work together."

"Oh, cos it just seems like . . ."

"Well, it's not." She couldn't meet his curious gaze.

Peter cleared his throat awkwardly. "If it was . . . I mean if it is . . . It'd be okay." "You know damn well it wouldn't be okay."

Claire stared at him for a second. "I'm not interested in West." "Who are you trying to convince?"

Peter let his lips curl into a relieved smile as he resumed cooking. "Maybe?"

The grounds of the Petrelli Estate were covered in a layer of fresh white snow. Claire emerged from the house and took a deep breath of fresh air. A Texan girl at heart, she marvelled at how much she loved a New York Winter. She heard giggling behind her, then something flashed past her legs. Almost three, Samantha Petrelli had clearly mastered the art of running. A slightly puffed Heidi appeared beside her.

"C'mon Mommy," the bubbly dark haired girl called.

Heidi smiled at Claire, before taking off after her youngest child.

"Where are Simon and Monty?" Claire asked.

"Simon stayed at a friend's house last night, but he'll be back for the charity banquet tonight. Monty is still sleeping."

"Sleeping?" Claire queried.

"Yeah. Getting into that teenage phase early I guess."

Claire started to wonder if her young half brother's behaviour was a bit odd. Those thoughts quickly disappeared when a firm ball of snow crushed against her left arm. She looked around and spotted her culprit. But, it was not whom she might normally have suspected.

"Good to see you dear," Angela Petrelli strolled through the snow towards her, a smug look on her elegant face.

"Angela," Claire greeted her Grandmother.

"Are we still going dress shopping?"

"Of course," she replied. Another snowball impacted just above her hip. "After I . . ." she reached down into the soft white powder, "pulverize West." She hurled a snowball in his direction and to her delight it hit him square in the chest.

"Oh, you've had it now! This means war!" West's brown eyes sparkled.

Peter was attracted by the sound of raucous laughter. He watched Claire through the window as she played in the snow with West and the other Petrelli women. A series of images flashed behind his eyelids. Another snowball flight. Another time. How simple everything had seemed back then. A short squeal brought him back to reality.

"West! Put me down!"

West had Claire over his shoulder and was spinning her around. They whirled around for a few more seconds before both toppled to the ground. Claire was laughing so hard she couldn't speak.

Peter was sick to the stomach and it was bound to get worse before the day was over. Her smile, normally a comfort to him, tore at his heart. "Tonight, I will suffer in silence no more."

"Claire, I love you and I can't live without you." Peter shifted nervously on the spot.

"Claire, I need you like I've never needed anyone before." Peter scowled at his reflection. "This is ridiculous. It's just Claire. She doesn't want to hear cliched rubbish from you." He adjusted his tie. There was a knock on the bathroom door.

Nathan appeared. "What are you doin in here, Pete? The limo is here."

Peter gritted his teeth. "Just fixing this stupid tie."

Nathan sighed. "Here. Let me." He pulled his brother closer and expertly pulled the tie into position. "There." He slapped his younger brother on the back. "Almost as handsome as me."

Peter couldn't help but smile.

"Don't worry Pete, I'm sure you'll have all the girls after you," Nathan stated as he moved to the door.

"There is only one I want . . ." Peter followed his brother, anxiously wiping his sweaty palms on his trousers as he went.

"She looks so amazing tonight." Peter was finding it increasingly difficult to take his eyes off her. Claire was stunning in a black silk gown. The straight cut showed off her hour glass figure to perfection.

"Claire, you look so elegant, so grown up in that dress." Peter pulled her close as they spun around the dance floor.

She looked smug. "You say that every time we're in formal wear."

"It's the truth." Peter locked his eyes on hers.

"Well, all thanks should go to Angela. Who knows what would happen if I was left to my own devices?"

"I want to talk to you," he breathed.

"We're talking now aren't we?" she laughed softly. "Oh, Pete. Always the enigma."

"Alone," his voice was husky.

Something in his tone and manner made her restrain from asking any further questions. Instead, she let him steer her around the hall unaware of the envious eyes that followed them.

"Claire."

Claire turned, expecting Peter. It wasn't. Instead her curious green eyes fell into West's.

"Can I talk to you?" His voice was shaky.

She nodded wordlessly as a tight knot formed in her stomach. "Since when does West get nervous around women?"

"Beautiful night." He cast his eyes skyward.

"Yes." His hand reached for hers.

"You're cold," he exclaimed.

She didn't resist when he pulled her close and let his mouth caress hers. The kiss, while mesmerising, was surprisingly expected. She could not deny how close they had grown over the past weeks.

He released her and stepped back. His eyes thoughfully searching hers.

She raised a trembling hand to her forehead. "West . . . I-I'm just . . . I should probably . . ." Claire was flustered by his affections and the right words escaped her.

"Before you say anything more, I just want you to know that the past few weeks have been some of the best of my entire life."

"West . . ." her voice stumbled as she said his name again.

"I like you, Claire." He smiled nervously. "I was hoping that you felt the same."

"Oh." Her eyes were finally seeing what she already knew in her heart.

West watched her expectantly. An expression of hope on his face. It changed slowly as a dark silence descended upon them.

"I know you think I'm just some second-rate guy. A womaniser or whatever. But, I'm so much more when I'm with you, Claire."

She gave a sudden high pitched laugh.

"Are you laughing . . . at me?" There was a flash of anger in his eyes.

"No-" she said quickly. "It's not that." She reached out, realising he misunderstood her.

His eyes softened as he awaited her reply.

"All the men in my life seem to put me on a pedestal and worship me. Then, when they realise I'm not who they thought, well, love goes cold so quickly around me . . ." She fidgeted with her dress.

"I know you, Claire and I want to be part of your life . . . No matter what that means, I'll always be there for you."

"You need to know, West. A great deal has happened to me over the last few years. Some of it you know and some I'm just not ready to tell."

"I want you, Claire," he said boldly. "Not your past, only your future."

"I . . . I'm just not sure what I want right now."

"Is there someone else?"

She answered quickly. "No, but-"

"It's okay," he said softly as he cast his eyes downward. "I understand."

"No . . . No," she exhaled deeply. "It's been awhile since someone has kissed me like that," she giggled again. "I'm still light headed."

"Oh, and was it okay?"

Claire couldn't help but blush. "Better than okay." She smiled reassuringly.

A sudden radiant glow appeared in his eyes and his mouth betrayed a somewhat relieved smile. "Does that mean . . . ?"

She nodded, still a little unsure of herself. "Yes. I think it does." Little butterflies fluttered in her stomach as she returned his nervous smile. "But, lets take it slow. I couldn't bear to lose you if this doesn't work out."

"You have all the time you need."

They kissed awkwardly in the dim light of the courtyard, unaware that their entire conversation had been overheard. Moonlight scattered through the trees, filtering down on the partially hidden figure of a man. Peter had listened, the expression on his face growing more and more pained by the second, as Claire returned West's affections. Unable to bear it any longer he retreated hastily into the darkness. "You're an idiot, Peter Petrelli. What on earth possessed you to even entertain the idea? You're a damned idiot."

"I miss you at brunch yesterday."

"Something came up." He avoided her gaze.

"I'm sorry I never got to talk to you on Saturday night. I looked for you, but . . . you must have left early. I feel like we've barely seen each other."

"That's okay." He lowered his eyes. "It wasn't really important anyway."

"Oh." Claire frowned at him. "Have . . . Did I do something to upset you?"

"No," he whispered softly. "Never."

"So we're okay?"

"Of course," he lied, pulling her in for a hug.

"Are you sure?" Claire eyed him suspiciously.

His eyes bore into hers as he nodded. "You'll miss your plane."

Claire let a relieved smile slip across her face. "See you next year."

Peter stood and watched her leave, a dull ache forming in his chest. "It's better this way, and you know it." It took a great deal of inner strength for him to watch her walk away as he had done so many times in the past. "This is the last time it will feel like this," he promised himself. "This will be the last time she walks away with your heart."

A/N: Some Review Responses - Bellagirl008: Thanks for your great review - It really got me thinking about Claire's motivation (and the other characters too). Basically, I've been trying to show a side of Claire that becomes increasingly affected by her failed relationships. Whether it's due to their inadequacies or her own, the underlying factor here is Peter and that she can neither fully admit to or move past her love for him. Gosh, that sounds a bit deep for fanfic, but you really got me thinking!
There is truth in what you say, she didn't react that badly to her (attempted) rape and so it is a deviation from her character. However, at some point with AU all characters begin to evolve as the story progresses. Madam Thalia, bluestriker666, angelinathestrange, Aneesa and dragoneyes5000: You are my much appreciated regular reviewers. So a big thank you to you also!

In the next Chapter of Volume Six: My Hearts Desire. Peter moves on and Claire realises that she cannot.