My Hearts Desire

Late Winter 2013:

Claire Petrelli was late. Her mind filled with words as she imagined her kind apologies. "Excuses more like." She shrugged off the thought, refusing to believe there was any deeper meaning to her being late for lunch with West. She had just emerged from a Metro station when her cellphone rang.

She answered quickly. "I'm so sorry. I'm almost there. I just-"

"Claire?"

"Dad?" It certainly wasn't West's voice on the other end of the phone.

"Since when do you call me Dad?" Nathan asked.

Flustered, she struggled to regain her composure. "Sorry, I thought you were someone else."

"Huh?" he inquired.

"Sorry. I'm in kind of a hurry." Her suede boots pounded along the pavement as she spoke. "Can I ask what this call is about?"

"I just wanted to chat."

"Chat? Shouldn't you be at work?"

"No . . . Actually I'm looking after Monty."

"Monty? What's wrong with him."

"Oh, just a fever."

"And you're looking after him?"

"Yes."

"Where is everyone else?"

"Well, Mom's in California. Pete's in Ireland, but I guess you already know that . . . And Heidi's taken Simon and Sam shopping."

Claire came to an abrupt halt. She pushed the phone closer to her ear and clasped a gloved hand over her other, trying to drown out the traffic noise. "Did you . . . Did you just say that Pete is in Ireland?"

"He's in Cork. Looking for an old friend I believe. Didn't he tell you?"

"No. No, he didn't."

"I'm sure it was just an oversight on his part."

"Yeah, probably." Claire bit her lip. Hard.

Silence ensued. Nathan cleared his throat.

"I should probably go," she mumbled.

"Wait! There's probably something you should-"

"Sorry." She started walking again. "I really must go."

"Clai-"

She interupted him. "Tell Monty to get better soon. I'll call you tomorrow."

Claire hung up, surprised at her own abruptness. "Ireland. Pete's in Ireland!" The words circled in her head as she started walking towards her destination, Jardin du Luxembourg. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Claire eyed the beautiful picnic before her as a sudden empty feeling developed in the pit of her stomach. "I thought we were going to a cafe for lunch."

West smiled at her. "I . . . I wanted to surprise you."

She nodded politely. "It's lovely."

West eyed her suspiciously. "Are you okay?"

"Sure." She sat down opposite him and avoided his gaze.

"Claire, I know you well enough to know when something is wrong." He knelt in front of her.

"Oh, West." Her voice wavered as she spoke. "I-I can't do this."

He looked around. "We can go to a cafe. It's no problem."

Claire took a deep breath. "No. I mean this. 'Us'."

West froze, his eyes locked onto her face, disbelieving her words.

"I'm so sorry," she gasped.

"There's someone else." His dark eyes drifted from hers.

"I never meant for you to get hurt. It's just . . ."

"You love him." There was understanding in his voice.

Claire nodded, a solitary tear slipping down her right cheek. "I've loved him for so long and . . . He has no idea."

"You are the best thing that's ever happened to me, Claire. I love you," he said quietly. "Even if you do not feel the same."

Claire screwed up her face. "You have been so kind to me and I am such a fool. Please. Please tell me you'll forgive me."

"Of course. I could never be angry at you." West placed his hands gently on her arms. "We are both fools in love."

"Thank you."

"Forgiveness comes with one condition," he stated.

"Oh?" she wondered.

"How is it that he has no idea of your feelings for him?"

She sighed and brushed a blond lock of hair from her eyes. "It's complicated."

"How so? Is he married?"

"No. "Worse."

"Well, what is it?"

"He just doesn't think of me that way."

"A man who did not fall in love with you the instant he met you? I doubt that very much."

Claire's pale green eyes fluttered under West's intense gaze. The Cheerleader and the Stranger. Her heart quivered at the memory.

West cocked his head to the side as he observed her reaction.

"Is it . . . It's Peter, isn't it?" The realisation was sudden.

"I . . . ah," she breathed, realising she had underestimated West's powers of perception. "I have no idea how to answer without you thinking I'm some lunatic."

"I might not think the best of you right now, but you are hardly a lunatic."

She smiled weakly. "How did you . . . ?

"It's obvious you and Peter have a connection that goes deeper than family. A shared destiny."

"Some destiny. I think I am going to be forever tortured by my feelings for him . . . If you had any idea how long I have tried to bury them."

"You should tell him. Tortured or not, Claire, I think he deserves to know."

"But, what if he is repulsed by me? I couldn't bare to lose him."

"Repulsed? I cannot imagine any man turning you down."

Claire bit her lip. Hard. "He is my blood. What kind of a relationship or life could we ever have?"

"You can regenerate, he has the potential for limitless power, I think that alone transcends the social stigma of your union."

She stared at her fidgeting hands for a moment. "For so long all I wanted was a normal life. A normal family. A normal job . . ." her voice cracked, "and a normal boyfriend. Now, I cannot even imagine what that would be like."

"I'm sure normal is overrated."

"I ha-have to go." She got to her feet. "I'm so sorry. For everything."

West nodded. "I know. Good Luck."

Claire: Caught up in my conversation with West, I flew to Dublin on the first flight I could get. My plan was to stay one night in the city and then travel to Cork the following day. I had no idea what I was going to say. I just knew I had to find Peter. I told myself it would be easier to confess my love in a foreign country, that maybe it would be easier, without distractions. The trip, as it turned out, was revealing. But not in the way I would have expected.

A voice in the crowd suddenly startled her. "Claire . . . Claire . . ." She would have known his voice anywhere.

She whirled around. Eyes searching the faces around her. A strong hand gripped her arm, sending her heartbeat racing.

"Pete!" She flashed him her sexiest smile. "What is he doing here? This truly is fate."

"Claire." He looked her up and down. "What are you doing here?" He grinned down at her as she hugged him closely.

"I came to see you actually." He looked good. Extremely good. Her stomach did an impetuous flip-flop. "God, I've missed that smile."

"How?"

"Nathan. You should have told me you were in Ireland."

"I just figured you'd be . . . busy."

Claire was about to speak again when she noticed a dark haired woman had appeared behind him. She watched, stunned, as Peter took her by the hand and pulled her closer to him.

"Claire," he began, "this is Caitlin-"

His next two words shattered her fragile heart.

"My Fiancee."

The world around her stood still as her misjudgement of the situation hit her with full force.

Peter smiled as he said it. "My Fiancee."

The smile on Claire's face froze as she let his words sink in. Her eyes drifted away from him to the dark haired woman. Caitlin. His Fiancee. "Fiancee? This has got to be some sort of a joke. Pete, what are you thinking?"

"Wow," she announced hesitantly, "Congratulations!"

Claire watched in horror, the superficial smile still stuck to her lips, as Peter bent closely to Caitlin and kissed her on the lips. Caitlin smiled shyly as he pulled away, but never said a word.

She blinked several times, as if trying to erase the words and images that followed. She stumbled blindly through the conversation; resisting the urge to vomit.

Claire scolded herself as she approached the inky black door of Caitlin's home. Somehow, she had managed to let Peter talk her into having dinner with them. She had spent the afternoon jogging circles in Phoenix Park. She had been valiantly resisting the instinct telling her to flee and get on the first plane back to Paris. She frowned as she mentally prepared herself for the night ahead.

She knocked with a forced hand. Peter welcomed her in and politely took her coat.

She let her eyes drift around the apartment. "Her apartment." Claire couldn't bring herself to even think his fiancee's name. Let alone say it. She mumbled a half hearted hello when she was greeted in the kitchen.

"Claire. It's very nice to see you again." Mohinder Suresh smiled warmly when he saw her. She suddenly wanted to cry.

"Claire, there's someone I'd like you to meet." Peter dragged her into another room.

A tall man stood up in front of her.

"Claire, this is Claude . . ." He looked over at the tall man. Claude shook his head. "Claude, is the reason I'm back in Ireland."

"Claude. Nice to meet you." Claire was as polite as she could be.

Claude narrowed his frosty grey eyes and then frowned at her for a moment. "I didn't know your brother had a girl, Peter."

"A long story." Peter smiled as he spent the next half an hour explained how Claire had become part of the Petrelli Family.

"I grew up in Texas," Claire added, taking a sip of beer. They were all seated around the dining table.

"Odessa . . ." Claude murmured.

"Yes." Claire paused. "With my adoptive parents. How did you know that?"

A flicker of recognition flashed through Claude's steely grey eyes, but it was gone quickly. "A lucky guess. I've been there . . . Once, a very long time ago."

The others started at him curiously.

"It was hot." Deadpan. They all chuckled before someone changed the subject.

For the rest of the evening Claire watched Caitlin very closely, determined to discover her secrets. She was attractive in an unconventional way. Soft spoken, with appealing emerald eyes. Her complexion was pale, but accentuated by the burgundy shade of her full lips. "She smiles a lot." Claire thought as she scrutinised Caitlin's interaction with Peter and the others. Eventually, she began to realises that trying to find fault in Caitlin was pointless. "She's perfect, Pete. How could I ever compete with that?"

"Caitlin seems nice." Claire stared at her feet as she shivered in the chilly night air.

"Oh, she is," Peter agreed with her. "Just wait til you get to know her, Claire. She's amazing."

"I'm sure she is," Claire mused. "Oh, Pete. Tell me this is all a bad dream. Say you will be mine forever."

"Your friend Claude is, um, how do I put this . . . Interesting," Claire said.

"Oh, Claude. He's always like that."

"He kept staring at me, Pete."

"Maybe he likes you."

"Ew, gross. He's old enough to be my-" she caught sight of the grin on Peter's face. "You're such a jerk." She slapped him lightly on the arm.

"Ow." He pretended to be in pain.

"I've missed you," she said quietly. She moved closer and curled her arms around him.

Peter cleared his throat awkwardly. "How is West?"

"West?" Claire was confused. "Oh. West and I are just friends."

"Oh." Peter frowned. "I'm sorry it didn't work out."

"Don't be," she said huskily. "I'm not." She played with the collar of his coat.

He stepped out of her embrace. "The taxi's here."

She smiled to stop her eyes from filling with tears. The taxi pulled up and Peter helped her inside.

"Pete," her voice floated out of the open window.

"Yeah?"

"I'm . . . I'm happy for you."

"Thanks."

Claire watched him from the back seat of the taxi as he gave a quick wave and was gone. "I can't believe I'm losing you."

Claire: The return flight was a blur. One minute I was in Dublin, the next I was back in Paris on West's doorstep. I stood in the drizzling rain, my bottom lip trembling as I finally let the tears come. I don't remember much of that night, but the following weeks were very dark indeed.

In the next chapter of Volume Six: No Ordinary Morning: A family member in peril leads to an astonishing discovery that will rock the Petrelli family to the very core.