No Ordinary Morning
Late Spring 2013:
Claire:Everyone faces challenges in their lives. By the time I was Twenty Two I figured I'd had just about a whole lifetime full. However, my world was about to be forever changed by a revelation that no one saw coming.
"Can I get you a drink?"
Claire Petrelli stared curiously at the attractive stranger next to her. He was in his mid to late thirties; athletic with a boyish smile that was hard for any woman to resist.
He raised his eyebrows when she didn't reply. "I'm sorry. I should have introduced myself. I'm Victor Armstrong."
Claire suddenly remembered her manners. "Claire Petrelli." She was a little awestruck at being picked up at 30000 feet. "Sorry. I'm not used to all this. I don't normally travel first class."
"You must be Nathan's Petrelli's daughter?"
She cringed inwardly. "Yes, do you know my Father?"
"By reputation only."
Claire chuckled. "Yes. I would like a drink, thank you."
"Good." He gestured to the nearby steward. "Two Bacardi's please."
Claire found herself admiring his clean-cut face and pleasant grey eyes.
"So, Claire. What brings you to New York?"
"I'm going home actually." Claire found herself chatting easily to the amiable Victor Armstrong and their conversation lasted through an in-flight meal and several more drinks. She shared memories of her time in Paris and learnt that he was the founder of CronoTech, a company that specialised in the manufacture and development of medical equipment. He also had a multitude of investments in all kinds of business both in America and Europe. He was polite and interested in her aspirations to be an investigative journalist. The flight time sped by as they enjoyed each others company.
"It was nice to meet you, Claire Petrelli," Victor took her hand and kissed it softly.
Claire blushed at the farewell. "And you."
He pushed a business card into her hand. "If you ever need anything, just call."
Silently, Claire nodded. She flicked the card between her fingers marvelling at something as simple as the meeting of two people from different spheres of life. The feeling was cut short when her mind was filled with an image of Peter. His hair lifting gently in the breeze, dark eyes caressing hers. The mere thought of seeing him again sent shivers down her spine. She longed to feel the touch of his skin against hers. Then, as suddenly as her heart soared it came crashing down as she remembered the sight of Peter's lips on Caitlin's.
The silence was making Claire nervous. Peter had met her at the airport and was now driving her home. He had been behaving strangely the entire time. He was distant, seemingly distracted and there was something in his manner that Claire just couldn't put her finger on. The very energy of him was awry.
"Pete, is everything okay?"
"Sure. Why wouldn't it be?" His smile was forced.
"No reason. I just . . ." her voice trailed off, "never mind." She gave up and stared out the window. "What's his problem?"
"Is it Caitlin?" she asked cautiously.
"No."
"Is she here? . . . In New York I mean?"
"No. She'll be over in a few weeks."
As silence resumed it's hold over them, Claire pondered his words. "I'll never be able to spend time alone with him once she arrives."
"When did we stop talking?" she asked.
He frowned at her. "What do you mean? We talk."
"But, not like we used to. I mean you never told me you were going to be in Ireland last month."
"It all happened pretty quickly. Mohinder and I needed to find Claude urgently for a . . . an assignment we were working on. It wasn't intentional, it just happened."
"What about Caitlin?"
"What about her?" The irritation was building in his voice; it covered his guilt well.
"Well, you never told me you met her before your last trip to Ireland."
"Should I have?"
"Well, it was just a surprise that's all."
"So I met her a few years ago, what's the big deal? We barely spoke two words to one another."
"I guess I just miss the way our friendship used to be and I-" she stopped abruptly when she saw a thick white mist wafting from under the front of the jeep.
"Damn it, " Peter groaned as he began pulling over to the side of the road. "Sorry, this shouldn't take long." He slammed the door with unwarranted aggression.
Claire followed, sticking her hands in the pockets of her jeans. "We should be able to let each other anything, right?"
"Sure." He lifted the bonnet releasing a rush of hot steam.
"I think honesty is the key to having a good relation, ah," she stammered, "friendship."
His dark eyes shot towards her. "Uh, okay."
"We've kind of drifted the last year and now that I'm back, for good, I want you-"
"Ow, damn it." Peter's reactions were lightening quick as he withdrew his hand from the radiator. He stood with harsh eyes, cursing the pain.
"Here." Claire sprang into action. "Let me see." She grabbed at his hand and pulled him towards her. Gently, she opened it. They both peered as the blistered skin faded and healed. An electric feeling whipped through them as they connected.
"It's," he began, "It's always quicker when you're near."
Her wide green eyes swept from his hand up his muscular torso to his weary face. Their eyes met and Claire's heart instantly began hammering in her chest.
"I want to . . . I mean I need for us to be completely honest with one another, Pete."
There was a slight glisten in his eyes as she continued.
"Since, I've been away I've realised that there are some things that shouldn't be taken for granted. I feel like there is so much between us that is unspoken and now I'm ready to-"
"Monty is sick." His voice was hoarse as he blurted out the words. Relief flooded his veins as the weight was lifted from his chest. Yet, almost instantly he braced himself for her reaction.
"Sick?" Claire echoed, dropping his hand. Peter nodded as he started to fill in the events leading up to discover of his nephew's life threatening illness.
"Leukaemia," she choked on the word a few minutes later. All thoughts of Peter suddenly pushed to the far recesses of her mind.
Peter nodded gravely. "ALL. Acute Lymphocytic Leukaemia . . . or something."
"Monty. My sweet little Monty. Why?" Questions raced through her mind. "When?"
"The initial diagnosis was only a few days ago."
"A few days?" she spat. "Why didn't anyone tell me?"
"Nathan and Heidi thought it better to wait until you were home. They wanted to tell you in person."
Claire nodded her head in understanding. "First Peter, now Monty. God, what's next?" she asked herself silently.
Peter's eyes filled with concern. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah. I guess." She massaged her right temple. Jet lag was setting in. "It's just a bit of a shock."
"I know." He clenched his jaw closed. "I just keep thinking. What if I had the power to heal?"
"Don't torture yourself, Pete."
"But all these powers I have. What better reason to have them than saving a child's life?"
"Everything happens for a reason. Look at you and me."
Their eyes lingered again. "You must know someone with the ability to heal."
Peter turned and put both hands on the car. "If only it were that simple," he paused when he saw her confused expression, "Healers are very rare. Neither Mohinder or I have met any in the last four years. Their powers fluctuate, so even if we could find one, it would hardly guarantee a cure. Besides, there are other factors in play here. The media have been sniffing around the hospital for days."
"How are Nathan and Heidi coping with all this?" her eyes filled with tears as she imagined the anguish of her Father and Step-mother.
Peter shrugged. "As well as can be expected. It's been a big shock for us too."
"Now what?"
"I was supposed to take you back to the house so you could get some rest before we told you the news," he waved a hand over the simmering radiator and it cooled instantly, "but, I guess you won't hear of that now."
Claire shook her head vigorously.
"Hospital?"
"Please."
Nathan and Heidi did not reprimand Peter for telling Claire about Monty's illness. They seemed somewhat relieved they did not have to deliver the devastating news themselves. To Claire, they looked years older than she remembered. Her mind drifted as they greeted one another. Nathan's pale complexion, Heidi's red-rimmed eyes. The hugs lasted longer than normal. Angela was unusually quiet, letting her eldest son take charge of the situation. She was, no doubt, cursing the demise of Daniel Linderman all those years earlier.
"What's his prognosis?" Claire finally got up the courage to ask, unsure as to whether she even wanted to know the answer.
"Good." Heidi's eyes lit up for the first time since Claire had arrived. "He's already started a regime of high dose chemotherapy."
"The Doctor's are also thinking about the possibility of giving Monty a Bone Marrow Transplant," Nathan explained. "They want to test each of us to see if one of us is a match."
"Oh, okay. What does that involve?" Claire was buoyed by their knowledgeable responses.
"A special blood test."
"A blood test," Claire repeated.
"You'll let them test you, won't you Claire?" Heidi questioned her.
"Of course. Anything I can do to help."
Peter emerged from the consulting room absently rubbing the back of his hand.
Claire couldn't hide the worried look on her face.
He bent down and whispered in her ear. "Nothing to it."
The warmth of his breath did little to calm the knots in her stomach. She swallowed hard, stood up and entered the room. It had a sickly sterile smell that made her especially thankful for her power of regeneration.
A curvy red-headed nurse smiled and motioned for her to sit down.
Claire could feel the tiny beads of sweat on her forehead as she walked over. "This is ridiculous. You can't get hurt and you're afraid of a little needle. Get it together, Claire. Imagine what Monty is going through."
The nurse was acutely observant and had spotted Claire's apprehension a mile away. She smile as Claire sat down.
"Just take some deep breaths while I get everything ready."
"Okay," Claire gulped, determined not to lose her composure. "S-so how does this blood test work?"
"Well," the nurse began, "we take the blood from everyone in your family and examine it for proteins called Human Leukocyte Antigens or HLA's. These HLA's are found on the surface of nearly every cell in the human body.
Claire's focus shifted as she listened to the nurse.
"HLA's can be found on the surface of white blood cells. They help the immune system tell the difference between body tissue and foreign substances. Every person has an almost unique set of HLA's that they inherit from their parents. So roughly half of your HLA's should match your Father's and the other half your Mother's. There, that wasn't too bad, was it?"
"Huh? You've finished?" Claire had felt no pain.
"All done." The nurse dabbed at the blood on the back of Claire's hand. "Another one who doesn't need a band aid I see."
Claire opened her mouth to respond, but was cut off.
"It's okay. Many of the staff at The Centre are special." The nurse phased her hand through a nearby medical cabinet and removed a sleek scalpel. "There are no secrets here."
Claire let a relieved smile slip across her face. "Thanks."
"I just hope your brother gets better."
"Me too."
"How can that be?" Claire couldn't believe what she was hearing. The pallid walls of the small assessment room appeared to be closing around her. They had come in early to get the results of the blood tests and suddenly she was listening to her world falling apart.
"We've check and re-checked. I'm sorry Claire, but there is no way you are related to the Petrelli's." The Doctor shift uncomfortably in his seat as he delivered the news.
"I . . . I don't understand." Claire's eyes were wide with disbelief.
"Meredith," Nathan stated, gritting his teeth angrily.
Claire looked over at him, suddenly on the verge of tears. "How? . . . Are you telling me now that she could have lied to you?"
"Claire. Honey, calm down . . ."
"I will not calm down. How could you? Why didn't you . . . know this, find out sooner or something?"
"It was a different time. Things got complicated with, er, Meredith."
"Complicated? How could you not know?"
"I'm sorry Claire, really I am." Nathan reached out to touch her, but she pulled away.
"No, I don't believe this, I can't." Claire turned and quickly left the room.
Peter saw her exit and called after her. "Claire . . . Claire, wait. What's the matter?" He started to follow when a strong arm held him back.
"Let her go." Nathan commanded.
Peter was confused. "What's going on?" He looked back in the direction she had run. "Nathan?"
"The doctor says you're a match. You can be a donor."
"Oh my God. That's fantastic news." Peter was ecstatic until he realised that Nathan didn't seem to share in his happiness. "Is there some kind of problem?"
"No," Nathan said unconvincingly.
"What is it, Nate?"
"It's Claire," Nathan began.
Peter's heart skipped a beat.
"She's not my daughter."
Peter stood very still, unsure if had heard his brother correctly. "What? How? Oh, Claire . . . No!" He turned a looked forlornly up the hallway again. "Someone should go after her." He turned back to his brother. "Nathan . . . NATHAN!"
Nathan sighed. It was all a little overwhelming. "I'll go. You stay here and talk to the doctors."
Nathan searched for Claire. Eventually, he found her vomiting into a rubbish bin near a side exit of the Oncology wing.
"Claire . . ." he kept his tone soft.
She coughed loudly before rising up to her full height and allowing him to take in her tear stained face.
"Claire," he called to her again.
She didn't move. Instead, she stared him down. "How could you?"
"I-I didn't know." His words were hollow.
"How could you?" she screamed again.
"I swear I didn't know." He moved swiftly enveloping her in his comforting arms.
Claire cried out as she slammed a fist against his chest. "Noooo . . ." Her voice racked with emotion as she fought to understand. "Oh, God. Why is this happening?"
He rocked her gently. "We'll figure this out, Claire. I promise you."
Her heartbroken cries were muffled against his body.
"It's going to be okay," he soothed. "Everything happens for a reason."
In the next chapter of Volume Six: Running Away: The Petrelli's attempt to deal with Monty's treatment and the fallout from the shocking revelation that Claire is not Nathan's daughter.