**Part One**

Word Count: 2,233
This is written for LJ community heroes50, Prompt #28-Death.

She didn't bother going in through the front door. She knew her grandmother wouldn't be in the frame of mind to talk to her, beyond yelling anyway. Claire was sure Angela Petrelli would twist this somehow into being Claire's fault. And Heidi and the boys. She wasn't even going to think about them right now She couldn't. Or she'd want to die, too.

So much death. How had her life come to this? To be about death? It started with knowing Sylar had killed Jackie in her place. That she had caused someone else, her friend, to die.

She'd known it was going to be bad. Apocalyptic stuff didn't come without a price. She knew that. At least Sylar was dead. That meant there would be no more deaths and they could start to heal. To move on. She also knew this was going to be her last night in the Petrelli mansion. Without Nathan or Peter here, there was no need for her to stay. She wouldn't stay even if she hadn't found her father again.

She went the opposite direction of her room. Anyone seeing her would realize she had a purpose. She wasn't sure exactly what her purpose was as she knocked on the closed door. She knew why he hadn't been there, why he'd stayed away.

Did he know? Had he known how it was going to end? He seemed to know so much. And he was the one person her father trusted, so that meant she could, too. And she needed that right now. Trust. Someone to count on. Someone to be there. Someone to take the tears and pain away.

He opened the door, his eyes widened in surprise for the briefest of moments when he saw who was standing at his door. He said nothing, merely stepped aside, and allowed her to come in. She didn't go far, merely stepped across the threshold, letting him close the door and then fell into his arms. He seemed to understand what she needed.

"Are you hurt?"

She laughed against his chest, still in shock. "Not physically."

"You've got blood."

"There was so much of it. Officer Parkman, my father's, Peter's. Sylar's. Another man I don't know."

"Let's get you cleaned up. You'll feel better once you don't have the evidence of the night on you."

"I'll never feel better."

"You say that now," he said, lifting her with ease and carrying her to his bathroom.

She should have protested, said something when he worked the buttons on her sweater. She just didn't have it in her, and really she didn't want to. She didn't mind him touching her, taking care of her. She knew, too, even in her current state that he wasn't just being nice. His hands even trembled a little when he'd moved from the sweater to her blouse, working those buttons, too.

If she dared to admit it to herself, she was trembling, too. And it wasn't entirely from sadness or being scared. She lifted her head then, regarding him. He was watching her intensely. He always did, as if he was waiting for or expecting something from her. Tonight was no different, but this was different. They were alone.

She leaned in then, just a little bit was all she needed, and kissed him. She surprised him. His startled groan as her mouth meshed with his told her that much.

He pushed the sweater over her shoulders and off, followed by her blouse, leaving her in just her bra. It was a front clasping one, and he didn't hesitate to work the fastening. She cried out, biting his lower lip less than gently when he touched her, flesh to flesh. Hand to breast. Death was all around her, covering her tonight, except here with him. He made her feel alive. Cupping her, stroking her, and causing her body to come to attention in expectation of more.

Together, urgent hands made riddance of the rest of their clothes. He knew what she needed, wanted, and apparently couldn't bring himself to ask the questions he probably should have. She knew what this was, why she was doing it, and even why it had to be him.

The water was past warm by now as he lifted her into the shower. She couldn't help but groan softly at their reflection in the mirror just then. Dark and light. So opposite and yet she knew he'd protect her at all costs. And that meant, for tonight anyway, protecting her against herself, her thoughts, her feelings of loss.

"Claire," he whispered when she reached for him, stroking him not that he needed her help in that area. Not at all.

"Shh," she murmured into the kiss. "I need this."

"To compensate for the loss you could not prevent and the fact you are alive, unharmed."

"Yes," she whispered, feeling fresh tears forming in her eyes. Hopefully, he wouldn't notice them or would just mistake them for beads of water from the shower.

Her arms went around his neck as his went around her waist, gathering her to him. She wrapped her legs around him, helped him sink further into her. She dug her nails into his back when she felt the pain. She'd expected it, just hadn't been entirely prepared for it.

He stopped and she whimpered softly against his neck. "Please," she whispered.

"Claire, I'm hurting you."

"No, I need this. I need you." She kissed him then as he pressed her back against the wall of the shower. She cried out when he was completely inside of her, not from pain this time. He just felt so good, so real. She had no idea why this was exactly what she needed. Proof despite the fact she couldn't die that she could still feel and be normal in something.

Her head fell back against the wall and he took quick advantage of the offering of her neck to him, sliding his mouth from it down to her breasts. If it was possible to become even more excited he just made it so. He nipped at a nipple, circling it with his tongue before moving to the other. This one he took between his teeth, sucking and biting just hard enough to bring her over the edge.

She'd never forget the moment he followed her over that edge. Not so much because of what they'd done and she hadn't ever before. She was sure that would be etched in her memory forever. That wasn't it, though. It was the look on his face, for the briefest moment he'd lost control. With her. In her. Because of her. His face reflected the passion and satisfaction she felt and her heart felt a great deal lighter.

He tended to her then. Cleaned her up, even washed her hair. She eyed the pile of clothes on the bathroom floor and felt the tears again.

"Burn them," she said softly. "I don't want to see them again. Ever."

"You can borrow one of my shirts," he said, fastening his towel around his waist once he'd dried off.

"Thank you."

"You can stay the night."

"I'm not sure…"

He chuckled. "I won't deny once was not nearly enough, but you came here for a reason. I was glad to oblige that temporary need. You have others, more pressing, I'd like to see to as well."

"I don't want to be alone."

"Then don't be. No one knows you're here anyway."

"My dad does."

That gave him pause.

"It's a little late for second thoughts now."

"I just wasn't thinking."

"Well, that's okay. I mean, if you were all logical when I was in the middle of throwing myself at you I might get a little mad."

He chuckled then, taking a shirt out of the closet and offering it to her. "This should get you through until you feel like going up to get your things."

"What if I never want to? I don't want to face them."

"Well, you'll have to eventually. I only have so many shirts and that's all of my things that will fit you."

"I know, just let me mope for the night."

"Moping is welcome in this room."

"Thank you." Modest all of the sudden, she went back into the bathroom to slide the shirt on and button it. It was clean, freshly pressed but still smelled like him. She looked at herself in the mirror, tousling her hair. Even freshly showered and coming off a fresh orgasm she looked a mess. Her eyes looked sad, but she'd already cried too many tears tonight. There weren't anymore left for her to shed. She caught sight of him in the mirror as he leaned against the doorframe.

"You look nice in that."

"I bet you say that to all of the girls."

"I do not loan shirts to just anyone."

"So, it's an exclusive club."

He chuckled then. "One might say so." He stepped toward her then and she turned to face him. He brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, thanks. Just a little numb."

"You seemed to be feeling all right a few minutes ago."

"Yes," she said with a blush. "You saw to that."

He dropped his hand from her cheek to down her arm, taking her hand. "Come to bed, Claire, let me make you feel more right."

"I didn't plan on this happening."

"I know."

"Just so you know, I don't expect."

He brought their joined hands to her mouth, placing a finger over her lips. "Let's not worry about such things. What's done is done, we cannot change it. Not that I would want to, other than being a bit more careful with you."

"I didn't need careful. I needed."

"Raw."

"Yes."

Her eyes fluttered closed as he rubbed her lower lip with the pad of his thumb. "That is only one thing that you needed. Let me see to the rest."

"I came to you, didn't I?"

"Yes."

"You don't need to ask me or convince me."

"All right," he said, leading her to the bed.

She'd never slept in someone's arms before. She'd fallen asleep in her parents' bed when she was little, but this was totally different. Never mind the fact that underneath his too big for her shirt she was completely naked and knew he was quite aware of that. The fact he was her first aside, there was something different and very intimate about sleeping with him.

He was still sleeping when she woke up, so she took the time to check him out. Despite getting naked with him the night before and having him inside of her, she really hadn't taken the time to do that.

"Like what you see?"

"Yes," she said, not ashamed to admit that.

He turned his head to look toward the window. "Good morning. You must have slept well."

"Yes, I guess stress and a good orgasm will do that to a girl."

"I'm sorry for the first and grateful the last is true."

She smiled, tracing a lazy path on his stomach with her fingertip.

"Your father will be here soon."

"Yes, probably. I don't know where he's taking me."

"You do not sound happy at the prospect of being reunited with your family."

"No, I am," she shrugged meeting his eyes. "I just won't see you."

"You will see me."

"Not like this."

He chuckled, running his fingers through her hair. "I suppose not. Though were you to wish it so, it could be arranged."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"You mean you'd want to again?"

"What gave you the impression I would feel otherwise?"

"I don't know. You knew what I needed and gave it to me."

"While I was unaware you had never given your enthusiasm for completing the act, I don't just randomly have sex with women in my shower. Particularly, when there are at least two people, possibly more, that would take my head off if they found me with her."

"Huh," she said softly, circling his nipple. "I think that's the most I've ever heard you say. And they wouldn't kill you."

He laughed. "You have no idea how protective people will be over what is theirs, those they've sworn to protect."

"And you've sworn to protect me?"

"Obviously not from me, but yes."

"I don't want protection from you."

"No?"

"No. In fact, I'd like very much if I could have you inside of me again without the urgency and the pain from last night."

He smiled, she saw a sparkle in his eyes. "There was nothing wrong with urgency."

"No, it was good. I'd just like to be able to compare and contrast."

"Understandable."

He rolled on top of her then. Her eyes widened when she realized he had been ready to fulfill her request. And had waited for her to bring it up.

"I would not want to take advantage."

"You're not."

He evidently didn't need her to say more than that because he proceeded to give her the full effects of sex without urgency. The pain from the losses last night was still there, but for the briefest moment she knew it would be okay. Last night had been good, this was even better leaving her to wonder how she'd go on as if it hadn't happened.

**Part Two**

Word Count: 4,740
This is written for LJ community heroes50, Prompt #20-Work

He walked in, the same time as he usually did. She looked forward to these visits, even if they were too short and it made her miss him more every time.

"Hi, I'll be right with you," Claire said from behind the counter. She was just finishing up some side work.

They'd argued about her getting a job, an argument she eventually won. She didn't ask questions, but somehow he and Nathan had managed for her to skip her senior year of high school. She'd be starting at the local community college for winter semester, and since she lived on her own a job was necessary. They thought she was safer this way.

"Hi," he said, gracing her with his brightest smile. The one reserved just for her, his princess, his Claire-bear. "How are you today?"

"I'm doing good. You?"

"Good." She hated having to talk to him as if she barely knew him, nothing more than a steady customer that she saw once or twice a week.

"What's good today?"

"Well, considering you never get anything but pie…"

"How about a piece of blueberry? It looks fresh."

She shrugged. She wouldn't know a fresh blueberry if it looked her in the face, but she knew the pies here were all good.

"Sure, be right back," she said after pouring him a cup of coffee. He turned his attention to the newspaper he always brought with him when he stopped in. This was the only time he ever took time for himself and relaxed. Except he never totally relaxed, always looking over his shoulder, worried that someone would find him. And by finding him, her.

"You sure have a loyal customer. I tried one day when your section was full to seat him somewhere else and he wouldn't have any of it," Claire's co-worker, and sort of friend, Monica said.

"Yeah, he seems real nice," Claire said, brushing her caramel colored hair away from her face before reaching into the display case to find the best piece of pie for him. The hair color was his idea, not that she looked very different. Different enough, she supposed someone just passing through wouldn't look twice at her.

Nathan had agreed that she was safest tucked away as she was now. As it turned out there was some doubt on whether Sylar was actually dead. Responders to the scene had been so busy tending to the survivors, like a badly down Officer Parkman that no one noticed Sylar's body was unaccounted for until later.

A little over two months had gone by since the election. Nathan was taking to his new job as Congressman quite well. She watched the news whenever he gave press conferences, bursting a bit with pride that she knew him. Knew him well enough to know he had secrets. He'd never be her father, but she'd gained a lot of respect for him when he'd come through. Just as Peter said he would. She figured if Peter liked him so well, maybe she could give him a chance.

A little over two months since she'd snuck out of The Haitian's bedroom, using the servants stairs to get up to her room hoping to avoid passing anyone. A little over two months since she'd left the Petrelli mansion with barely a glance at it over her shoulder. A little over two months since she'd kept the shirt he'd given her that night. She slept with it under her pillow, putting it on occasionally when she was feeling particularly lonesome. And needy.

A scoop of ice cream added to the warmed piece of pie and her dad's dessert was ready. She brought it to his table where he quickly set the newspaper aside.

"Here you go," she said, setting it down. "Can I get you anything else?"

"Do you have a break coming?"

"Yeah," she glanced at Monica. "I'm going to take five okay?"

"Sure, honey, ya'll go ahead."

"Thank you," Claire said, sitting across from him. It was strange to sit with him like this. It seemed so natural, normal and yet no one could know they knew one another.

"You're looking well."

"Thanks. You, too."

"I miss you, honey. I'm sorry it has to be this way."

"I get it."

"Okay."

She bit her lower lip, wondering if she should ask the question on her mind lately. If her father suspected where she'd spent that night he'd never said. She knew that Angela was aware her bed had not been slept in. That didn't necessarily mean she was down on the other side of the house having sex with a man her grandmother would probably freak over Claire being with.

She regarded her dad, wondering what he'd think. He liked the Haitian, but she wasn't sure if that like extended beyond work.

"This is really good pie."

"I'll let Sally know. She always takes your compliments."

"She deserves them." He takes another bite, regarding her. She sits in the chair opposite him, fidgeting with her hands in her lap. "What's on your mind, Amanda?"

"Nothing."

"You can't lie to me."

She took a deep breath. "It's nothing."

He sets his fork on the dessert plate, taking a slow sip of his coffee. She could tell it'd cooled off some and had to fight the urge to grab the pot to top it off it.

"If you're sure."

"Positive. I just miss you two. Lyle, too."

"I know, us, too." He glanced behind her, she knew Monica was back there probably watching.

"That's all. I love seeing you, I just wish it didn't have to be like this."

"Be careful?"

"Always," she whispered.

"Monica there let it slip one day that there's a young man that might be sweet on you." He blotted his lips with the paper napkin, settling it back in his lap as she stood.

"Not really. I don't think so, I don't know," she shrugged. That really wasn't a possibility anyway. "You talk to Monica now?"

"You were off one day, registering for classes I think she said. And if you say so. It wouldn't hurt to try, make this life more liveable."

"The last boy I tried with didn't turn out too well. Remember?"

"That was then. This is now. You're not that girl anymore. You're making enough money here?"

"Yes," she said with a roll of her eyes. He and Nathan both saw to it that this job wasn't her means of survival.

"Anyway, you'd best get back to work. I don't want to get you in trouble."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. I'd do anything for you."

"I know," she said a little sadly.

Part of doing anything for her was keeping her safe, which meant breaking his promise of being together as a family again. Here she was, tucked away, those who cared about her hoping she'd stay that way. She couldn't even keep pictures of them. She had some fake pictures in her apartment, the family she was supposed to have. Strangers that she'd assigned a life story to. She was Amanda Pierce, youngest of six, which was the reason for going to community college. It was one of the only community colleges around that offered Bachelor's Degrees. "I'll get you some more coffee."

"Thanks, but I'm good. I need to cut this stop short today. My son has a basketball game." Basketball? Lyle was playing basketball? That was unexpected. "You always give me such good service when I come in here. That's why I won't stand for anyone else to wait on me."

Her lips quivered into a full-fledged smile then. "Thank you."

She returned to the counter, returning with his ticket. She felt terrible charging him, but she didn't have much choice.

"He always looks so sad when it's time to leave," Monica said.

"You think so?" Claire asked. She hadn't really noticed that, but she might be too close to see it.

"Yeah. Like someone kicked his puppy sad. If I didn't know better I'd say he's sweet on you."

Claire laughed at that. "No. He's just a nice man. I wish I knew what he did that he stops in here, I don't think he lives here in town." She watched as her father finished his coffee and reached for his wallet. He'd leave enough for the bill and a generous tip. He always did. If she asked, he'd probably tell her it was an allowance.

Monica laughed, a throaty laugh. It was a nice sound. Monica was older than Claire by fifteen years and had a zest for living Claire hoped to get back. She was only seventeen after all.

"Maybe he's not, but I know someone who is," Monica whispered, elbowing Claire's side lightly. She couldn't help but look where Monica was gesturing.

"I don't even know him!" He was kind of cute in a Kenny Chesney kind of way. Only thing was she'd discovered that Kenny Chesney just wasn't her type.

"I do. His name's Billy Kingston and his father owns a big ranch a ways out of town. That shiny new pickup out there," she said, gesturing to the brand new Ford pickup parked in the space in front of the door. Well, off to the side really, because the handicapped spaces were right in front of the door. It was a nice pickup. Too nice. Even wearing casual jeans and flannel shirt he exuded money. Way out of Claire's league. Well, Claire Bennet and Amanda Pierce's anyway. Claire Petrelli, had she the opportunity to be that person maybe not.

"Yeah, and he's going to go for a girl like me?"

"A beautiful girl who's smart you mean? Hard working? Working her way through college?" She waved at Billy. "You can take a seat any ol' place you want, Billy. Amanda's section is wide open."

Claire grimaced. "Monica. Don't you want any customers today?"

"I'll just take part of his tip, and details if he finally asks you out."

"Finally?"

"Honey, he's been wanting to for weeks now, but you hardly give him a second glance."

"Monica, I already told you I'm kind of involved with someone." That was a stretch, but it saved her from the hassle of guys asking her out. It was her and Monica on dayshift, so the young guys were hot for Claire when she'd first started the job here.

She'd only been in town for about six weeks, this job for five. Her dad and Nathan had carefully chosen where she'd go. She still wasn't exactly sure why they'd chosen Midland. Hiding her out in the open, she supposed. More probably, just her father not willing to let her be too far away even if she couldn't live with them. Nathan would have given in, wanting one of them to be able to keep tabs on her no matter how distantly.

He didn't know her phone number, didn't know where she lived, didn't even know which car she owned because she'd traded hers in as soon as she got here. He knew only that her name here was Amanda. No last name. The less information he had the better, because he'd be the one they'd go after for information. She had an email address that he knew and used, reserved for emergencies.

She kept a bag stashed in the supply room with clothes, money, a new ID, and keys to a decrepit looking vehicle on the used car lot next to the diner. The owner let her store it there since the car she'd traded for it had been worth more than it was.

She was set to be gone in a flash if anyone found her. Monica saw it once and Claire had given a heart-wrenching story about an abusive daddy who was very probably looking for her. Claire had gained a mother figure in Monica that day.

"Well, sort of ain't definite. I haven't seen anyone come around these parts lookin' for ya leastways but the old man. You say it ain't him, which I wouldn't blame you he is a handsome man. A little old for you and a bit stuffy, but I bet underneath that he'd really cut a rug."

"Eww," Claire said quickly. That was her father Monica was talking about!

"Best go help your customer. I'll finish filling the sugar caddies for ya."

"Thanks," Claire said, murmuring a few other things under her breath as she made her way to Billy's table. "Hi. Can I get you something to drink?"

"Uh, sure," Billy said. Claire felt his eyes on her instead of the menu and looked up from her pad of order tickets. "Amanda right?"

"Yeah," she said softly. That was kind of obvious, since her name tag said so.

"I'll have some tea."

"All right, did you need a few minutes to look at the menu then?"

"Sure, I'm not sure what I'm hungry for today."

"All right, I'll be back in a minute with your tea." There was no sense asking him what kind of tea he wanted. Around these parts it was iced, sweetened. Someone might go against the norm and ask for lemon, but he hadn't.

"Here you go," she said, setting the tea on a paper coaster on the table, setting a straw beside it. "Have you decided yet?"

Her eyes moved to the door when the bells jingled, indicating another customer had come in. Her heart skipped a beat and she broke out into the widest smile she'd given in two months now. She almost dropped her tray, thinking she was seeing things. She wasn't entirely sure that she wasn't, because he had the girl, Molly, from that night with him. This had to be her imagination.

"See, I told you she'd be here," Molly said.

Breaking the trance like spell he'd cast over her by walking back into her life after a two month absence, she returned her attention to her customer. Billy was a good tipper, but she wondered now if that was because he liked her and not because he was a generous man.

"I'm sorry," she said. "Could you repeat that?"

"Just a BLT on wheat with extra mayo. Extra crisp on the fries and pickles instead of slaw."

"All right. Got it," she said, writing it all down, though it was easy enough to remember. "I'll bring it right out."

She turned from the table, about to go talk to the Haitian when Billy called her back.

"Hey Amanda."

"Yes," she said, pulling her pen out from behind her ear, assuming he'd forgotten something.

"You know, there's a party tonight."

"No, I don't. I'm new here."

"Yeah, I know," he smiled. It was a practiced smile. One he probably used to make girls around town go weak in the knees. Brody had a smile like that. She was keen on that sort of thing now. "Well, you know now."

"Okay."

"If you'd like to go, I could pick you up. I see you walking everywhere."

Her eyes flicked to the Haitian who was watching her, looking amused and, if she wasn't mistaken, more than a bit jealous. She was tempted to say yes just to see what he'd do, but she didn't want to do that to Billy. No sense getting a reputation as being a tease.

"That's real sweet of you, Billy, thank you, but I already have plans tonight."

"Oh, my fault waiting to the last minute I guess. Another time maybe."

"Sure, sounds fun," she said, trying to be polite. "I'll go put your food order in." She did just that, taking the extra time to collect herself. And get her mind wrapped around the fact he was here. Monica was busy wiping down tables and the Haitian chose a dirty one, smack dab next to Billy's. "This is going to be fun," she whispered.

"Hello, Amanda," he said. It sounded so weird hearing him say this name. She loved the way he said her real name, wished for anything he could say it now.

Molly leaned toward him and whispered in his ear.

"You're right," he said with a nod. "Molly has pointed out that I've neglected to comment on the attractiveness of your hair."

She ran her fingertips over the few loose ends that had fallen out of her cap and ponytail, framing her face. "You like it?"

"I do," Molly said brightly.

"Thank you, Molly."

"You're welcome, Amanda," she said and then covered her mouth, quieting a giggle.

So, why was she with him? Why would he come see her with a child along? That couldn't bode well, and she was suddenly rethinking the whole kind of involved thing she'd been saying for the last two months. Why was he here at all? No contact, no nothing for two months and then he walks in. His smile told her he knew very well what she was probably thinking.

All right, he probably didn't know where she was or how to contact her. That only confused her more. For all she knew, he wasn't here to see her at all. This could be a coincidence. Not likely, but it was possible.

So, what did you say to someone you hadn't seen for two months? Couple that with the fact the last time she saw him they hadn't done much talking and he had a young girl with him.

"Can I get you something to drink?" She resorted to the one safe haven a waitress had, talk about food and the things that paid her measly barely three dollar an hour job.

"Can I have a cherry Coke?"

"Sure, I can make you one," Claire offered.

"Really? You have to make it? Like homemade?"

"Yes, it's much better than the kind you get in a can at the store."

Molly seemed to think this over for a minute. "I'll try it."

"I'll make the best one I can for you. And for you?"

"Pretending you don't know me isn't going to work."

"I'm not pretending anything. I'm working and you're here while I'm working, so I'm doing my job. I just had a break not too long ago when a regular customer of mine was here."

"I'll have a coffee. Black."

"All right, I'll be back with your drinks. Menus are right there," she said, pointing at the section of the table that housed the salt and pepper shakers, sugar caddy, ketchup, napkin holder, and the mentioned menus.

"What's a matter, sweetie. You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Nothing, I'm fine," Claire said, hoping Monica was not as good as her father on picking up on her lies.

By the time she got the cherry Coke and coffee together, Billy's food was up. Putting it all on a tray, and then remembering Billy had asked for extra mayonnaise.

"Doug, can I get a side of mayo, please?"

"Sure thing, Amanda," the cook said, sliding a small bowl of it through the window dividing his kitchen from the eating area.

"Thanks."

"You bet. One of these days."

"One of these days, what?"

"I'm going to hear you forget to say please and thank you."

"Not likely, but you can keep listening for it."

He beamed and gave her a light laugh.

"I'll give you something to listen for."

"Doug," she said with a laugh. She liked Doug and everything, just not that way. He seemed to feel the same way, which was why they got along so well. Her tray all set she walked back to the tables. She gave Billy his food first and then the Haitian and Molly their drinks.

"Can I get you anything else, Billy?" She noticed he was still good with his tea.

"No, thanks," he said.

"All right, just let me know if you change your mind, but I'll check back in a bit."

"Have you two decided?"

"We're not real hungry, Amanda. We came to see you," the Haitian said.

"Oh," she said, pen poised at the order ticket pad, ready to write. She noticed her hand shook a little.

"What time are you done?"

She glanced at the clock behind the counter. Was it possible she was only here for another twenty minutes?"

"Twenty minutes."

"Then Molly will have a sundae and we will wait for you."

"I shouldn't. I mean, we shouldn't."

"It's all right. I promise you."

"Yeah, Amanda, please."

"All right. I'll get your sundae."

"And then you'll come with us?"

"Yes."

"I told you she would."

"You had more faith than I did, Molly. I will not doubt you again."

She giggled again. Claire remembered that age well. The Haitian was a nice looking man, Molly probably hung on every word he said.

"It'll be just a minute on your sundae."

She took one last glance at Billy's table, making sure he was still okay.

The dessert area was off a little from the rest of the prep area, so she could hide here. Taking a deep breath, trying to collect herself. He was here, wanted her to go with him. That doesn't mean anything, Claire. For all you know, he wants you to take Molly for some reason and that's why he brought her along.

"You all right, sweetie. You're looking a little green now."

"I'm fine. I just," she shrugged, peeking around the corner. "That's him."

"Him who?" Monica said, following Claire's gaze.

"The guy I've told you I'm kind of involved with."

"And you're back here hiding from him? What's that all about. He beat on you like your daddy?"

"What?" Claire asked, confused for a moment. "No. I just, I haven't seen him in a couple of months and I really don't know why he's here now. To see me or what."

"Well, of course he's here to see you. Why else would he be here? Who's the kid? Not yours, you're not old enough to have one that age."

"No, not mine. She's a friend."

"Oh, all right."

"Well, she's family, extended. It's hard to explain. She lost both her parents a while ago."

"Oh, sweetie, that's such a shame. You give her that sundae for free. I won't tell anyone, and if we get caught. A little girl that age losing both parents, well, she deserves some ice cream."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome. Now, you want me to go talk to your man? Set him straight? Because a pretty girl like you deserves to be shown some love. Months you say?"

"Monica, I'm working."

"Yeah, like Doug and I are going to tattle on you."

Claire rolled her eyes, putting the finishing touches on the sundae for Molly.

"I just wish I knew why he was here."

"Only one way you're going to find out."

"I know."

Monica handed Claire a fresh glass of iced tea.

"That's what I came over here to give you, noticed he was getting low, figured I'd save you a trip."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome." Rounding the corner together, Claire could see Monica taking the Haitian in. Molly, too, but her primary focus was on the Haitian. "He is a handsome fellow. A little intimidating."

"Yeah," Claire agreed. Intimidating was a good way to describe him. Especially today.

She set Billy's new glass of iced tea on his table.

"Hey, thanks."

Claire smiled. "You're welcome."

She set Molly's sundae in front of her. "I put a little extra whipped topping on it. Don't tell anyone."

"Are you sure you don't want anything?"

His eyes widened, looking amused actually. "You don't really want me to answer that."

"No, I suppose not."

"Less than twenty minutes now?"

"Yes, I have some things to finish up. Monica was doing some of my side work, but I have a couple things to do yet."

"We're not going anywhere."

"All right." She sensed that was the case, even if she hadn't agreed to go with them. "Here you go, Billy," she said, placing his bill on the table. "Just pay at the counter when you're ready."

"Thanks, Amanda. You sure you don't want to reconsider the party? It's going to be fun. Everyone who's anyone will be there and you'll get to meet some people before you start school in January."

"No, thanks, another time. I really do have plans. Sorry."

"No problem. Just figured I'd try one last time."

She made her way to the back. She really didn't have all that much to do. It had been pretty slow, so she and Monica had gotten through their list of jobs pretty quickly. It was nice to work with someone like Monica. They chipped in and did things together.

"So, why'd he set next to Billy do you suppose?"

"Billy asked me to a party tonight."

"In front of your boyfriend?"

"Well, right when they walked in, yeah. And I really don't know if he's my boyfriend."

"Go ahead and punch out. The way that girl's eating her sundae she'll be done before you know it. It's a nice day, enjoy it with your man and your little friend. Bless her heart."

"Thanks, Monica."

"You're welcome."

Claire went to the bathroom then and changed out of her uniform. She always changed here, her uniform wasn't the most stylish thing to be caught in outside of work. A black skirt, a white blouse, a grey cardigan, and a pair of black pumps were her outfit of choice today. She had a set of pearls back at her apartment that she'd yet to wear here. One nice thing about having lived with the Petrelli's, she had a closet full of stylish and designer name clothes.

She hesitated a moment, seeing Billy was still seated at his table. He was almost done eating from the looks of things. He hadn't really asked her out, like on a date out. He asked her to a party. It might have just been a friendly thing, and she hadn't lied to him. It wasn't like she'd said no and was planning on staying home to wash her hair instead.

She threw the small duffle with her work clothes over her shoulder and made her way to the Haitian's table, where Molly was finishing up her cherry Coke. She'd cleaned up on the sundae. She sat down, taking a little pride in the look the Haitian gave her. He seemed to appreciate what she looked like out of her work clothes.

She blushed deeply, knowing he of all people knew what she looked like with the work clothes off.

"You look nice."

"Surprised?"

"No, that's not what I said."

"We can go whenever you're ready."

"We didn't get a check."

"I paid for it."

"No, that's not right."

"It's my treat. For Molly."

"Thank you, Amanda."

"You're welcome."

And then he did something that shifted everything in her life off kilter. He slid his hand into hers. She was okay until he touched her. And then she was far from okay. Memories of how his hands felt on her body, touching her, caressing her, bringing her to the stars and back during the part of their night together that had been long and far from urgent.

"You do not wish for me to touch you? Afraid your friend will get jealous?"

"No, that's not it." She left her hand in his. What could she say? That she was afraid he'd feel and see exactly how much she needed him. Wanted him. She hated it, especially now feeling disappointed he'd brought Molly with him. That, of course, meant they weren't going to be alone. He didn't want to be alone with her. She was better off knowing that without a reminder of his touch and what it felt like.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Monica."

"Bye, sweetie, take care now."

"Thanks."

"You like her," he said as they stepped outside.

"Yeah, I do. She's nice. She's not that much younger than my birth mother is, and she feels sorry for me I think."

"You do well at this job?"

"Yeah, it's all right. Pays the bills. And cash tips are nice when you're never sure when you're going to have to leave with no notice."

"And the boys who ask you out on dates?"

"Just an added perk."

He smiled and she suspected he knew that not only did she have help in the area of finances, she didn't consider guys asking her out on dates a perk.

**Part Three**

Word Count: 1,956
This is written for LJ community heroes50, Prompt #09-Jump

"So, are you going to tell me what you're doing here?"

"Right down to business then," he said, holding the car door open first for Molly so she could get into the backseat and then for Claire.

"Well, I am curious."

He slid into his seat and started the engine. "Is there a park around here?"

"A what?"

"A park. A place for Molly to keep busy."

"Oh!" She thought on that. Parks weren't tops on her list of things to do and see. "There's one not too far from here I think, at a grade school."

"All right."

Aside from giving him direction on how to get to the school in question they were quiet. Thankfully, it did have an area to play in as Claire thought. Even Molly was quiet, Claire wondered what that was about. She would have been difficult to shut up in a new situation when she was that age.

They took to a bench while Molly went about doing what eleven year olds did on a playground.

"Are you all right?"

"Me? Why wouldn't I be all right? That's kind of an odd question to ask me since it's taken you two months to visit me."

"I didn't know where you were, Claire. No one knows besides Nathan and your father."

"How'd you find me then?" He nodded toward Molly. "Oh," she said, understanding. "I didn't think her powers would work if you were there."

"That doesn't mean I couldn't ask her, leave, and come back to find the results. Dr. Suresh had to go back to India for a while, and your father is, understandably, worried for Molly's safety. He thought for the time being she'd be better off with me. No one should be able to detect her."

"You mean Sylar shouldn't be able to detect her."

"If he's alive."

"That still doesn't tell me why you're here."

"Do I need a reason?"

She turned to look at him, propping one leg up on the bench.

"Yeah, I think I need to know."

"Did you think I would let you just walk away? Run was more like it. You didn't even say good bye."

"Why not? People have sex all of the time. And I did too say good bye!"

"Not when you left with your father you didn't. I found you gone. And we are not everyone else, I'm quite certain neither of us have sex all of the time."

"How do you know what I've been doing since I left?"

His eyes darkened a little. "You should not say such things."

"Why not? They could be true."

"You are upset with me. I do not blame you. I wasn't sure you would want me to find you, truthfully. I know why you came to me that night. What you needed. And while I know it wasn't just sex, I wasn't sure exactly either. Especially when I found you gone later that morning and your grandmother looked at me rather suspiciously."

"No, it wasn't. I mean, I wouldn't have ended up in bed with just anyone."

"That is very good to know," he said with a low chuckle, though she could tell he was being more honest than he wanted her to believe. "Plus, I wanted to ensure you were safe before I went searching for you."

"Huh," she said as she watched Molly play a game of hopscotch by herself. Claire smiled at the girl. Was she used to playing by herself? Claire knew what that felt like with Lyle being so much younger than she was. She stood from the bench then, not sure what to say to him now. He seemed to understand because he let her go without questioning her.

"Can I play, too?"

Molly's eyes showed her surprise but she nodded.

"Thank you."

Her eyes fell on the Haitian a time or two, but she remained focused on Molly as best as she could. Claire really did feel sorry for her. Even knowing Nathan was out there, and her birth mother. If something happened to her parents, she'd be completely lost. She couldn't imagine what losing her parents at this age would have done to her.

She knew she'd have to talk to the Haitian eventually. There were things she needed to tell him, but for now she just wanted to let Molly be a girl. To help the girl jump and play and swing and just be. She was seventeen and wanted that more than anything. She could imagine Molly did, too. At least Claire hadn't basically been held hostage for months.

"You can go talk to him now."

"What?"

"He wanted me to find you, you know? I could tell every time he came to see Mohinder, I mean Dr. Suresh, that he wanted to ask me something. I didn't even know he could talk until he finally asked me."

"Yeah, he doesn't talk to many people."

"So, go talk to him."

"I don't know what to say."

"You're mad at him?"

"A little."

"He thought you might be." Molly shrugged, rubbing her fingers along the edges of the rock they'd been using for hopscotch. "Do you have to say anything?"

"No, I guess I don't," Claire said simply with a shrug. "And you can call him, Dr. Suresh I mean, Mohinder if you want to. I won't tell anyone."

"Thank you. I didn't mean to let it slip out. He's worried I'll get taken from him."

"I can see that. There's probably someone you were supposed to go to."

"No," Molly said, and sounded somewhat sad.

"Well, you're with someone now who wants you. We all want you safe."

"They all want you safe, too."

"You know that, huh?"

"Yes. I've been instructed by Mohinder never to show anyone where you are."

"And yet, you showed the Haitian."

"I knew it would be okay with him. He likes you. I can tell by the look he got on his face when others talked about you."

Claire smiled slightly at the simplicity of Molly's statement. She glanced at the Haitian, wondering just what his look was that Molly saw. "You think so, huh?"

"Yes," she said with a low giggle. "And you like him, too."

"Yeah, yeah, I do."

"Then go talk to him. I can have fun on my own."

"This playground is a little young for you. Sorry I couldn't think of another one."

"It's okay," she said, spotting another girl walking toward the park, presumably with her mother. "I might have someone to play with now."

"I guess you do."

"You're pretty good at hopscotch."

"I played a lot."

"Me, too."

Claire smiled, making her way back to the Haitian.

"She's so cute, and so doesn't deserve the things she has to deal with," she said softly.

"I believe you are right, however, it is out of her control. Any of ours really. All we can do is take care of her, protect her."

"I know, just like my dad and Nathan are doing with me."

"We cannot let Sylar, or anyone for that matter, get a hold of your power."

"Peter did."

"Peter is on our side. There was no question that would be the case where he was concerned. There are others whose alignments are not so clear-cut and easy to determine."

"You mean there are others out there like him and Sylar?"

"Yes, I'm sure of it."

"Oh," she said softly, realizing for the first time just how broad things might be. She believed her dad when he said he was trying to protect her, but she just assumed he was going a little overboard because she was his little girl.

He slid his hand into hers and she let him, lacing her fingers through his. "I apologize if you think it took me too long to find you. I did it for your safety, for you."

"I know, that doesn't mean it's very fun."

"Would you have said yes to Billy," Claire laughed at the way he said the guy's name, "if we had not come in at the time?"

"No." She shook her head and shrugged. He said nothing, which gave her time to rethink her answer. "All right, maybe, but not because I liked him. I just don't know anyone here. It would have been kind of nice to meet some people my age."

"I understand, and I have stood in the way of you doing what you'd like."

"Not really. I'm not the partying type. And Billy probably would have gotten the wrong idea. That's the hard part. I tried telling people I was involved with someone."

"You are?"

"Well," she said, glancing at him from the corner of her eyes. "I don't know. Am I?"

"You're asking me?"

"You are the one I had sex with, so yes."

"You are also the one who snuck out of my bedroom as if we'd done something wrong."

"Mm, and Angela wouldn't have kicked out to the street in what you were wearing at the moment?"

"Point taken, but you are not a child."

"I know that, you know that." She shrugged. "I didn't know that bothered you."

"What man wants a woman to leave them as if they're ashamed?"

"I did no such thing! You knew where my clothes were. You said a little while ago you knew what I'd come to you for."

"The first time. The second time was different. That was us, there was nothing else behind that."

"I know that." She looked at Molly again, watching her about as closely as the Haitian was she noticed. The other girl was a little younger than Molly, but she still seemed to be having fun. "How long are you here for?"

"That depends on you."

"Me?"

"Perhaps you feel I waited too long."

"I don't know. You're going to leave again. And then what? I wait another two months? Longer?"

"It would not have to be like that."

"My dad's not going to let me leave."

"That does not mean I cannot visit frequently. I'm not sure how long Mohinder will be gone. So, I have Molly until he comes back, but she's studying independently so that's not an issue. I did promise her a trip to Las Vegas."

"To see Micah?"

"Yes."

"She'll like that. I can't imagine being that age and knowing I was different on top of being different. I mean, you already feel different and then being really really." She shrugged. "I feel bad."

"I wouldn't know, I never had the opportunity to do things like go to school."

"I suppose you didn't."

She grew quiet then.

"Is it inherited?"

"What?"

"This specialness? My father and mother both are. Peter and Nathan both are. Micah's parents both are. So, when I have a child?"

"I do not know, Mohinder would be the one to ask regarding that. He's the scientist, I am not. I suppose were you to have one with someone who is as well the chances would increase. As you just pointed out that seems to be the way it works. On the other hand, we don't know that every child of two specials produces one. Nathan's boys may not be."

"Heidi's not, though."

"Right."

"And you're special."

"Yes, though I hope that has duplicate meaning to you."

She closed her eyes, felt the stinging of tears. She was this close, teetering on the edge. A step back and she'd be safe, a step forward and she'd freefall into the unknown. The step back kept her in this alone, the step forward hopefully not. She took a deep breath, time to make the plunge.

"Well, it would seem we're going to find out."

**Part Four**

Word Count: 3,078
I've strayed away from the heroes50 prompt table from this point forward, so no more prompts.

He stared at her - and at nothing - for a while. It seemed like hours, but it was probably only five minutes or so. She kept her focus on Molly, had to because she couldn't look at him now.

At the diner, she'd wanted to blurt it all out to her dad. He'd asked her what was on her mind, but she hadn't known what to tell him. Or where to begin. She'd thought about talking to someone about her options, just hadn't gotten around to it yet. She'd be eighteen soon, but knowing no one here, what would she do? She really didn't see any other option. And, yet, where would she be if her mother had made the same decision? At least she'd given Claire the chance to live.

She took a deep breath, glanced at him from the corner of her eye. He hadn't moved, probably hadn't blinked. He didn't look mad, just shocked and thoughtful.

"Are you going to say something?"

"I keep coming back to you waited until now to tell me this."

"Haven't had a chance. What was I supposed to do? Tell you when you walked in the door of where I work? I want to keep the job, and I'd certainly prefer not to be made a fool of in front of the people I work with."

"Made a fool of how?"

"Oh, I could think of a few ways. I did it on purpose. I tricked you. I seduced you so I should have thought of everything."

"I would have said no such thing, but certainly you could have told your father you needed to speak with me."

"And he would have asked me why. And what was I supposed to tell him?"

"The truth?"

"I was embarrassed. I feel pretty stupid. I mean, I've head Health class, I know how it works."

"You were upset, emotional, stressed, and not thinking clearly. People have gotten into this situation with far less on their plate than what you were dealing with."

"And your excuse?"

"A person I'm attracted to comes to me, needs me, I was not thinking past that."

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"I don't know. I shouldn't have… God, what am I supposed to do now?"

"What do you want to do?"

"I don't know. I want to be normal again. I want my life back. I can't have that. May as well throw this into the mix and make me a bigger freak."

"You are no such thing. If anything, you should realize how special you are, knowing there are others similar but not altogether like you."

"Right."

"You disagree? Where would the world be had it not been for you, the information you were able to provide them."

She shrugged. Okay, he had a point there. They'd managed to save millions of lives. "I just don't know what to do. I'm not old enough."

"How long have you known?"

"A couple of weeks. I didn't think anything of it at first, but when two weeks late turned into more," she shrugged.

"So you have time to decide."

"What? No telling me what to do?"

"I cannot. Were it up to me there would be no question, but it's not up to me. Not solely."

"So, you'd let me not have it?"

"If you feel that's the course of action you must take. I would caution against that, however."

"Why?"

"If, as you asked me earlier using yourself, Micah, and your biological father and uncle as examples. You could be ridding the world of someone special."

"Or another Sylar."

"No," he said adamantly. "I do not see how that is possible. My gifts do not harm people nor do yours. I come from a family that heals, that leads."

"But you don't know."

"No, of course not. There are no guarantees." He grew quiet, regarding her. "There is always the option that your biological mother took."

"Yeah, I'm just not sure I could do it. Carry it and give it up, knowing how I felt growing up. The curiosity, the wondering. You don't know what that's like unless you've lived with it, always the sense of not quite belonging. I mean, my parents love me, but after they had Lyle there was always that question of whether they loved him a little more because he was theirs."

"Or they realized they saved you from an uncertain fate and cherished you, believing you could have died."

"I just don't know what to do."

"Are you feeling well?"

"Yeah, okay. Mornings are kind of rough, but it passes. I don't feel like anything's different, but I know it is."

"Understood."

"So, that's all you're going to say on this?"

"What would you have me say?"

"I don't know. It just seems like you should say something."

"Well, I'm rather limited in my options until you've made your decision. I will support whatever you decide. If you chose to terminate, I will go with you."

"I never thought this would be a decision I'd have to make. I've got college, my whole future to look forward to. Do you know how disappointed my parents will be? The Petrelli's? That's the hardest part."

He slid an arm around her, drawing her so she could rest her head against his shoulder. "You cannot live your life, make life altering decisions based on them, Claire. This has to be your decision."

"You want me to have it."

"I will not deny that would be my choice."

"And what? You go on with your life like Nathan did? And I get to what? Live life working at a diner. Maybe if I'm lucky I'll have a three bedroom trailer instead of two?

"I am not your biological father, you cannot compare us. He was under the impression you were dead."

"Would you be able to forgive me if I didn't?"

"I believe all life is precious, Claire, a gift. But, yes, I could see where such a thing would be inconvenient at this point in time. And while I don't understand them I realize your feelings on adoption are real."

"Where are you staying?"

"I rented a suite, unsure you'd want to see me. I realized that was a possibility. I felt guilty for that night to some extent so wouldn't have blamed you."

"Why?"

"I should have had better control."

She lifted her head from his shoulder and regarded him. "This isn't your fault. If anything it's mine. And I liked that you lost control."

"You do that to me I'm afraid."

"You and Molly can stay with me," she said softly, noticing that Molly was walking toward them. The other girl left, presumably to go home.

"You do not have to do that."

"I know. It's small, but there's a spare bedroom. Molly can sleep with me."

"Or I could."

"We shouldn't. I mean, she'd know."

"If you're going to have a child, Claire, she'll know anyway."

"I haven't made that decision yet."

"Just pointing out the facts."

"Is this your way of telling me you want to be in bed with me again?"

"If you can forgive me and understand why I stayed away this long."

"And when you leave?"

"I know where you are now. I will return."

"Will it be another two months?"

"I told you why I stayed away this long."

"Yes, but you make it sound as if I'll be eternally in danger."

"And in need of someone to watch out for you."

"Collecting women to protect, are you?" She turned her attention to Molly. "Would you like to come stay with me while you're here?"

"Can we? I don't like hotels very much."

"I don't blame you, but I still have to go to work. Okay? I can't take a vacation."

"I know that."

"Is that all right with you then?" she asked the Haitian.

"I already gave you my answer."

"Yes, and stated your preference as well. We'll see."

She offered her hand to Molly. "Maybe we can convince him to drive by a store and we can pick up some food that you like. I don't have very much to offer you."

"Can we?" Molly asked.

"Of course," he said dryly, though Claire detected a touch of amusement in his tone.

"Thank you," she and Molly said together.

"How can I resist?"

"I think we bought every kind of cereal the store had," Claire said with a light laugh, setting the last bag of groceries on the counter. Her apartment wasn't fancy, but it was decent. Comfortable but modest, so no one would wonder how she was affording it on a waitress' salary. Calling the second room a bedroom was pushing it, but there was a bed in there and a dresser.

"And what are these things?" The Haitian asked, holding up a box of Twinkies.

"You've never had a Twinkie?"

"I'm afraid I missed out on the delicacy."

"Only the best snack cake around. And, hey, they're so full of preservatives they'll last for like a hundred years." He arched a brow at her. "I'm serious! Well, maybe a hundred years is an exaggeration."

"This is nice," Molly said, taking a seat on the chair. "Can I call you Claire here?"

"It's fine, as long as you remember to call me Amanda when we're not in here."

"I can do that."

"All right then." Claire handed Molly the remote control for the TV. "I don't know what you watch. I don't get any movie channels, but I have Nickelodeon and Disney Channel."

"Oh, those are good. I like That's So Raven."

She glanced at The Haitian and smiled, feeling a little sorry for him. "You've been subjected to That's So Raven and SpongeBob SquarePants, haven't you?"

"Yes, as has Mohinder."

She laughed then, putting the loaf of bread they'd bought in the bread box she had. She'd always wanted one, thought they were very cool for some reason. And here she had an apartment and her very own bread box.

He was behind her then, hands at her hips and then around her waist. She turned to face him and he lifted her with ease onto the counter. He scanned her face, looking for something. She didn't know what and so, she asked.

"Yes?"

He laughed. "It occurs to me I have yet to kiss you."

"I hadn't noticed." She was a liar, and was going straight to hell for telling such a bald-faced one. The lift of his lips told her he didn't believe her either.

"I had. Of course, there wasn't much time. I would have taken the opportunity at the park, but someone sidetracked me."

"Oh, well," she whispered with a smile. "You could correct that mistake now if you wanted to."

"That would be acceptable?"

"I don't see why not."

"It may blur the lines, confuse things for you. You may think I'm trying to influence your decision about other things."

"I think I can compartmentalize a kiss with the other things."

He smiled. "You think so?"

She slid her feet up, hooking them around his legs to draw him closer. "Yes."

He kissed her then, evidently needing no more prompting. She remembered lots of things of their one night together, but kissing him had gotten lost somehow. She could tell anyone how he felt to the touch, what he felt like inside of her, on top of her, her back pressed against the shower wall, and how she'd felt waking up beside him. Kissing him, though, felt new and different. She vowed to commit it to memory this time.

As her arms went around his neck, drawing him closer she realized he was probably right. This probably would confuse things, but she already felt that way so a little more couldn't hurt.

"We should get Molly dinner," she whispered, kissing his cheek.

"Yes, we should."

"I'm hungry, too," she added.

"For food?"

"Well, that, too, but that's not what I meant."

"I promise to be on the couch by sunrise."

She giggled softly. "That's tempting," she whispered. God was it.

"I think that's what I liked about that night."

"What's that?"

"There wasn't time to think. It just happened. We were tempted and gave into it."

"Yeah, more nights like those and I'll need more than a two-room apartment. I think I learned my lesson on not thinking."

He grazed her cheek with the back of his finger. "If I could undo it I would, if only to save you the pain I can see in you're eyes you are experiencing. I, however, cannot."

"I know. I wouldn't want you, too, anyway. You'd carry the guilt around with you."

"Either way I would carry the guilt with me, if I did it or someone else does it."

She sighed heavily. "Can we not talk about this tonight? With Molly right there anyway?"

"All right."

She kissed him lightly. "Dinner. Children get very cranky when they're not fed."

"I've seen evidence of this phenomenon."

"I'll just bet you have. Do you want to help me? I know there's not much room in here." There was barely enough room for her in the tiny kitchen, but she wouldn't complain if he just wanted to stand there and talk to her. Or even just stand there and look at her.

"I'll help if I can."

"Great. I'm going to go change. You can start the hamburger patties if you want to."

"I'd rather help you change, but if I must remain here I will see to dinner," he said, stepping away so she could slide off the counter. He helped her, though.

"Thanks." She saw Molly was engrossed in some show on Disney Channel. "We're going to have hamburgers for dinner."

"Okay. I'm pretty hungry. All I had to eat today was that sundae."

Claire glanced in the Haitian's direction.

"She refused to eat. It was not my fault. I offered to stop, but she was too anxious to find you to allow me to."

"Hmm," Claire said, making her way to her bedroom. She made an assessing gaze of the room. Nothing was too severely out of place. A few clothes on the floor, which was easily fixed. Otherwise, her bed was even made so she was good.

She realized midway through the eating part of dinner that this was a very bad idea. The food was real good and he'd helped her out anytime she'd asked for it. Molly had even set the table for her.

Sitting there together at the small table she had seemed family-like. And it made her start wondering what her child would look like, their child. She hadn't thought much about it before now. Denial maybe, or just choosing not to pay attention to the countless kids she waited on as part of her job. This was different.

She fought back the tears as she and Molly cleared the table. There just was no easy decision. She wasn't going to be entirely happy whichever way she went. Crying certainly wasn't going to help, but once she started these days it was difficult to stop.

"We should go make your bed up and then we can watch a movie if you want to."

"Okay," Molly said. "I can do it myself. My bed I mean."

"I'm sure you can, but I need to find the sheets." She scrunched her nose, regarding Molly. "I don't suppose you can locate objects?"

"No, sorry."

"It's okay, I was kidding anyway, I know where they are."

Molly helped her, which left Claire wondering what movies she had that Molly could not just see but that she'd like. Any movie suitable for Molly would probably bore the Haitian to tears.

"Are you having a baby?"

"What?" Claire asked, more harshly then she'd meant to.

She spotted Molly holding a pamphlet that she'd brought home from the clinic after getting the test done. She'd forgotten about it, not even sure how it get into this room. She never came in here, but must have at some point over the past couple of weeks.

"I, uh, I don't know. Just curious I guess, you know?"

"Oh," Molly said, and if Claire didn't know better she'd say the girl was disappointed. "My parents wanted more than me, but weren't able to."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I just always thought it would be fun to have a baby brother or sister."

"You miss them a lot?" Claire said, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Yes."

"I don't blame you. I'm sorry, which I know doesn't help you. But you have a lot of people who care for you and are looking out for you."

"I know. You're not with your parents either."

"No, but it's different, not the same at all."

"So, if you had a baby, would I be able to see it?"

"I don't see why not," Claire whispered, wondering if the Haitian had put Molly up to this somehow. No, he wouldn't stoop that low. "Let's go pick out a movie. Maybe we can make some popcorn, too. All I have is microwaveable."

"That's okay."

"Good," Claire said, taking the pamphlet and stuffing it in the waistband of her sweats. She just hoped out of sight would equate to out of mind and Molly would forget about the pamphlet.

"How about this one? Paul Rudd's kind of cute," Molly said, pointing out Claire's copy of The 40 Year Old Virgin.

"Mm, no, I'm afraid that one's out. Sorry."

Molly sighed, but Claire could tell she wasn't mad exactly. "Okay. This one then," she said, pulling out Claire's copy of Sweet Home Alabama.

"Sure, I guess this one is okay."

"Thanks. I like her."

"Yeah, me, too," Claire said.

Molly settled on one side of the Haitian on the couch while Claire started the popcorn and put the movie in.

"You really don't have to sit through this if you don't want to."

"What?"

"This movie."

"What about it?"

"Well, it's a girl movie."

"Would you rather I leave?"

"No, I just didn't want you to think I expected you to sit through a movie you might hate. You could go lay down or something if you'd rather."

"I'll tough it out."

She got the popcorn and some drinks for them, settling in to watch Reese Witherspoon realize that the life she was living wasn't necessarily the right one.

**Part Five**

Word Count: 1,044

Molly fell asleep somewhere during the airing of Groundhog Day they'd found on Family Channel after Sweet Home Alabama. Claire had liked the movie when she was Molly's age and figured it'd give the Haitian a break from chick flicks. She'd looked through her collection for a second movie and determined that was about all she had that were appropriate for Molly to watch. Funny, she cared about what Molly should and shouldn't watch. When she'd been Molly's age she'd wanted to watch anything her parents said not to.

The Haitian had taken Molly into his arms with ease and carried him to the spare room. Claire wondered how many times he'd done that in Mohinder's place. He was so gentle about it, as if he sensed that as powerful as she was she was still fragile. She had, after all, lost both her parents and had people in her head that probably weren't very fun to focus on.

Claire followed, pulling the blanket back while the Haitian slid her into bed. She grazed Molly's forehead with a kiss, drawing the blanket up around her hoping she'd sleep okay in a strange bed.

"So, do I get the couch or the pleasure of your company?"

She smiled, closing Molly's door behind them. "Well, I should tell you the couch because you look entirely too confident right now."

"I do?"

"Yes," she said, returning to the living room to clear the popcorn bowl and glasses.

"We don't have to go to sleep right now."

"We don't huh?"

He shook his head with a grimace. "I meant, if you wanted to watch another movie."

"I'm fine."

"I realize company isn't something you've had an abundance of since you got here."

"You two are the only ones who even know where I live. I'm sure my father and Nathan would want me to move now that you know, but I like it here."

"I would merely find you again."

"Yeah, I know and Molly could find me anywhere I go anyway. So, not much sense. I think they're more worried about my dad."

"Yes," he said, leaning against the kitchen doorway. "It was nice."

"What was?"

"Tonight, sitting with you."

"Yeah, it was," Claire said softly, rinsing the dishes out and setting them in the dishwasher with the ones from dinner. "You were probably incredibly bored."

"Not at all."

"Right. Just what every guy wants to do."

He stepped up behind her then, wrapping his arms around her. "I'm not every guy," he murmured against her ear. He was entirely too close now. She wouldn't be able to think with him like this.

"I know."

He kissed her neck and ear, causing her to whimper softly. "Come to bed with me, Claire."

"I," she tilted her head so she could look at him. "I'm not sure."

"You have not made a decision yet. I promise I will not pressure you to do so, but the damage as they say is already done."

She stepped away from him then. "So you want me to have sex with you because I'm already pregnant and can't get that way?"

"No, I want you to sleep with me. If you want to make love to me I would not complain. I asked you to come to bed with me not to have sex with me. I want you to need me because of me not because some event catapulted you into my room."

"It wasn't like that," she whispered. And she realized that is exactly what she'd done. She'd needed and she'd gone to him and taken it without really much consideration for him. Not that he wasn't a willing participant.

"You left that afternoon and I haven't heard from you since. I wasn't sure you even wanted me."

"Why do you think I went to you?"

"Who else did you know in New York who could have given you that?"

She opened her mouth to answer, and stopped short. There was no one.

"Molly."

"Has probably seen two people sleep together before. There are two beds here, it stands to reason I'll be in yours since you gave her the spare one."

She nibbled on her lower lip.

"So you came here not even sure I'd want to see you?"

"Yes."

"Then why did you come?"

He chuckled. "That should be obvious. I care for you."

"Enough to stay here?"

"I am staying here."

"No, I mean stay, stay. If I go through with this, have a baby, I'm not doing it alone."

"Of course not."

"I don't expect you to marry me or even live with me, but I would expect you to be here."

"If we're having a child together I would at the very least want to live with you."

"I'm just saying I don't expect it. It's not like we were in a relationship where you thought this could happen."

"I should have thought of the possibility before now. I do know how it works and obviously the possibility was there, one night or not."

She turned to face him then, resting her head against his chest. He rubbed her back. She really wasn't sure what the right thing to do was. About any of this. Baby or no baby? Sleep with him again or make him take the couch? She sighed softly, the last question was easier to answer than the first.

"I'd really like not being alone tonight."

"You're not alone. We're here."

"I mean…" She looked up at him then. "I've been alone since that night with you. I want to do it again, knowing I'm not going to go away the next day."

He shook his head slightly. "I wouldn't let you go anywhere tomorrow. I had no choice the first time."

"You have one this time?"

"I'm not staying under your birth father's roof."

She tilted her head up to look at him. "Yes, I suppose that was sort of inconvenient."

"Just a little. But now neither your father nor birth father is here, so I know I'll wake up in the morning and you'll still here."

"And Molly will be here."

"There is that." He picked her up then. "I could always gag you."

She laughed softly. "I'll make do."

**Part Six**

Word Count: 1,595

They'd been gone for only a week. It felt like forever to Claire. She was currently at work, counting the minutes until her shift ended so she could go back home and wait for them to get back.

"You could come with us, Claire."

"No, I can't."

"You have the means…"

"I know I have the means, but the money I have is for emergencies. Not jet setting off to Vegas on a whim. That's not blending in very well, and that's not something Amanda would be able to pull off. Plus, it's not a very good way to keep my whereabouts a secret."

So, her Haitian and Molly had gone to visit Micah, DL and Niki by themselves. It would have been nice to see them, to see someone she knew.

She'd slept beside him every night for two weeks. Fell asleep in his arms, woke up to him always nearby even if he'd already gotten out of bed. The past week had been awful. She couldn't sleep in her bed, because it smelled like him. She swore if she put her hand on his side that she could even feel the outline of him. Ridiculous.

Neither Molly nor the Haitian had been happy with her decision to stay behind. He probably would have stayed with her if he hadn't promised Molly a trip to Vegas to see Micah. And if he was anything he was true to his word. She just couldn't take the time off. Nathan and her father had worked too hard, gone to too much trouble to get her here safely for her to ruin it by doing something stupid.

Speaking of…The bells above the door rang, signaling a customer. She looked up and smiled, happier than she could remember being at seeing his familiar face.

"Hi," she said cheerily.

"Hi yourself. How are you today?"

"I'm doing all right."

"Just all right," he asked as she poured his usual cup of coffee.

"Yes."

"Anything I can do?"

"Not here."

"All right."

She sighed heavily. She had to tell him. If she was going to do this, he had to know. He'd figure it out eventually, of course, which was why she needed to tell him. And for some reason it seemed right that he be the first person to know.

"What can I get for you today?"

"Whatever pie looks good. You choose, you haven't let me down yet."

"All right. I'll be right back."

She took an extra minute to write him a note on a second ticket, telling him to meet her at the movie theatre she'd gone to with the Haitian and Molly when they'd first gotten to town. It was the only public place she really knew of that could still be private and no one would pay attention to two people coming in separately.

She set the pie and the two tickets on the table. "I'll be back to check on you in a bit."

"Thank you."

"Sure."

She didn't take a break like she usually did when he came in and he seemed to sense she didn't want to talk to him at the diner at all. He left without saying much more to her.

Her shift ended uneventfully. She changed and said goodbye to Doug and Monica and walked to the movie theatre. She bought some popcorn. What was a movie without popcorn? She didn't see him in the theater, so she took a seat away from others but not totally off by herself.

He came in a short while later, sitting a few seats away from her. They watched the movie like that, in silent companionship. She cried more than once even though the movie wasn't a sad one. This close to her dad, doing a father/daughter thing, but not quite able to go all the way with it.

Once the movie was over and most of the people had left he moved next to her.

"That was pretty good."

"Yeah, I saw it last week."

"You did?"

"Yes, it was how I knew it was playing and the time to tell you to be here."

"Oh, yeah, I guess I hadn't thought of the fact you knew the time and name like that. So, you're making friends?"

"A few, that's not who I came to the movie with."

"Oh?"

She turned to look at him, wondering what he'd say. If he knew, had a clue. Did Angela tell Nathan and Nathan then tell her dad that she hadn't spent her last night in New York in her bed.

"I came with The Haitian."

"I was wondering when he'd find you."

"You knew?"

He shrugged, pushing up on his glasses a little. "I suspected. He betrayed not just me but your biological grandmother for you."

"Yeah."

"I'm not sure what you're wanting from me. My approval? I can't stop you, and I can't deny that I'd rather it be him than some guy who didn't know who you are. He can protect you."

"No, that's not it." She took another piece of popcorn and chewed.

"We're running out of time, Claire. I know why you picked this place, but the ushers are going to come through."

"Oh God, I know. It's just not something I ever thought I'd have to say to you. At least right now."

"What?"

"What would you say if I told you that I'm pregnant?"

"Are you?"

She nodded just enough for him to see it.

"Well, then there's not much I can say. Certainly not under the current circumstances."

They were both quiet. She wasn't sure what to say.

"He knows?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"He wants me to have it."

"You don't?"

"I wasn't sure until he left again. I've had a week to miss him, to think about it."

"And your decision?"

"I wouldn't be telling you I was if I wasn't going to have it."

"Good girl."

"Wow, you're surprisingly calm about this."

"What do you want me to do? Yell? Scream? Call you irresponsible? Go after him?"

"No."

"Good, because you're not irresponsible. I'm sure it was an accident not stupidity on your part." He held up his hand. "I don't want to hear about it. You're still my little girl and I'd prefer to keep those images out of my head."

She smiled slightly. "Sorry."

"Are you going to go to school?"

"I'm going to try. I don't want to be like my mother. My birth mother I mean."

"I understand. Is he coming back?"

"Yes. He took Molly to Vegas to see Micah. I think he's going to live with me, so I should have help."

"She'll enjoy that. There aren't too many other specials out there who are children. And I'm glad, school is important. You have potential."

"Thanks," she said with a sad smile. "I just wanted you to know, because it'll become obvious if you keep visiting me. I didn't want you to wonder."

"If you need anything."

"I'll let you know."

He leaned over then, kissing the top of her head. "I can't say I'm thrilled, but I think you'd be making a mistake if you didn't go through with it."

"He said the same thing."

"He'll be good to you."

"I know, because if he's not he's got you and Nathan and Peter and…"

He chuckled. "Yes, there is that too." He kissed the top of her head again, smoothing down her hair. "Good bye, Claire. I'm glad you told me."

"Thanks."

And just like that, he was out of the seat next to her and gone. She sat alone in the theater for a while longer, finishing her popcorn. The usher came in and started cleaning up the theater. She stayed until he was about to her row and then got up to leave, throwing her popcorn and cup away on the way out.

She took a deep breath, glad it was over with. Telling her dad, but it still didn't seem real. Probably because he was right, there wasn't anything he could really say about it now. She was on her own here. And that was part of the reason she'd come to the decision she had.

She didn't want to be alone. Wrong reason to have a baby perhaps, but it was incredibly lonely living as she was. Having nobody to talk to, to trust, to just be with. He'd given her that for two weeks. When she wasn't working they were doing something together, the three of them. He seemed as much in agreement as she was about not leaving Molly alone even if she was capable of doing it on her own.

Their only alone time had been here at the movies, and she'd gone with them just to a movie she wanted to see. And in her bedroom.

Feeling more alone than ever just then, she made her way home more than anxious to have them back later. She decided to busy herself with dinner so it'd be ready for them when they got home.

"Home," she whispered. It was such a simple word, but it meant so much. This was her home now. It wasn't great, was on the small side. But she'd had two months now to settle in. And now she wondered if she'd have to move all over again?

No, because Molly would go back to Mohinder eventually, which would leave the extra bedroom free. She kept busy picturing what the room could look like while she made dinner, passing the time until they got back.

**Part Seven**
Word Count: 1,335

She was on the couch watching TV when she heard the door open. She was so tired all of the time, but it was too early to go to bed. She'd showered earlier in an attempt to look like she hadn't worked all day when they got here.

"Did you forget someone?" She glanced to the still open door, expecting Molly to come in any second.

"Mohinder is back in the country. That is why I was delayed, I had to bring her back to New York."

"Oh. I thought maybe you'd left her in Vegas with Micah."

"I could have, they get along."

"I imagine they do. Plus being around adults would be boring. Especially someone like you who's not so much with the talking."

"I'm talking now."

"I hear that, and like it. It's very sexy."

"My talking is sexy?"

She smiled, ducking her head a little. She hadn't really meant to say that part out loud. "Yes, very."

He pushed back some hair from her face and kissed her. "I am very glad to hear that."

"I made dinner if you're hungry."

He glanced at the kitchen. "Food wasn't foremost on my mind."

"No?" She glanced at him with a smile. She might have gone ahead and eaten on her own if she'd known he was coming back alone. "What was then?"

"The fact that I'm finally alone with you again."

"You know just what to say."

He chuckled, taking her into his arms. He kissed her again and she practically sobbed from having him back. Or it could have been the hormones. She wasn't sure anymore what she should blame on them.

She clutched to him, hands at his arms affirming he was here. That she wasn't going to be alone. That had been her biggest fear. Not that she'd be safe here, but that she'd have to live life alone, a college drop-out because she had no one to baby sit her child. One thing she knew, she wasn't sure she could live a complete lie the rest of her life.

Tears were flowing from her eyes, causing him to break the kiss. He brushed his cheek against hers, blotting the tears away.

"What is wrong, Claire?"

"You came back."

"Of course I did."

"I just," she said with a sob. "This is so embarrassing."

"What?"

"I don't know. I just can't stop," she said, laughing through the tears. She settled her head against his chest, heard the beat of his heart and it seemed to ground her somewhat. His hand was at her head, smoothing down her hair. He kissed the top of he head. He had to have other things on his mind. He'd said as much. She didn't feel rushed or pressured to get over this crying fit. She loved that he could stand here and hold her like this.

"It's okay. There is nothing to be embarrassed about."

"I'm not normally so emotional."

"It's to be expected."

"Yes."

"What did you do while I was gone?"

"Work. Saw my dad. I mean, really saw him. We saw a movie. The same one we saw."

"Oh?"

"Well, I had to talk to him and couldn't think of anyplace else that we could both be that wouldn't attract attention."

"He knows."

"Yes, how did you know?"

"Because I saw him."

"And? Did he do something?"

"No, he did not try to hurt me if that is what worries you. He, in fact, said nothing but I could tell that he knew."

"Why?"

"He was, what is the expression? Sizing me up. He has never had need to do that before. I was a colleague, an employee; this was more personal. As if he was thinking about taking me home. Or wondering if I'd hurt you."

She drew her head away from him to peer at him.

"I told him everything."

"I am surprised he did not try to hurt me then."

She shrugged. "I don’t think he'd do that, because he knows I wouldn't have gone through the effort of telling him if I wasn't going to have it."

"You are?"

"I am."

"You are sure?"

"Yes, I've had plenty of time to think about it. Before you came to visit I wasn't so sure. The idea of doing it by myself was frightening and, well, I just want more from my life than to be a mother at eighteen."

"Understandable."

"But since you and Molly came, and then left again. I want to have that. A family. I'll never have my mom, dad and Lyle back. I've accepted that and I don't want to be alone. Bad reason maybe, but that's what it is."

"I am relieved."

"I thought you might be. You are going to stay, right?"

"I told you I would."

"Just making sure, because I came to realize most of all I want you here. I don't like the idea of you being somewhere else."

"I will still be called away from time to time. And I won't be able to tell you where I go or who I see, not even if it's your father."

"I know."

"I had to make sure you knew that. It's not because I don't want to tell you, but my being here really will compromise your safety to some degree. I will not do more to make your new identity weak."

"I understand. That doesn't mean you can't talk to me, though. If you need to talk, or something's bothering you about things going on."

"Very well. Now," he said, lifting her into his arms with ease. "I have a couple of weeks to make up for, even longer if you count having a child in the room next to us before that."

He carried her to her bedroom. She giggled softly when she saw realization dawn on him that he didn't need to close the door behind them. He set her on the bed. It amazed her how gentle he could be with her at times like this. It wasn't like he thought she was fragile, just deserved to be treated pristinely. Properly. She liked it, whatever his reasons for it were. "Then we'll see about that dinner for the both of you."

He slid his hands to her stomach, stroking her abdomen with his thumbs. He looked kind of awestruck, amazed.

"What?" she asked. She had to know what he was thinking.

"You're really doing it, and it's not due to pressure from me?"

"No pressure. What if I don't get another chance? I don't know how this whole thing works with my healing and regenerating."

She'd hit something there, she saw it in his face. Had he thought of that, too? Or had she mentioned something that hadn't occurred to him? She was kind of surprised she was able to get pregnant at all, but she didn't know much about her abilities.

"And besides," she said, lifting her shirt a little so his hands were against her skin. "It's yours. I went to you for a reason."

"I'm very glad you were logical in your choice."

"Now that we have that settled," she said, sliding his hand up higher. "It seems to me you said something about time to make up for. You might need to work awful hard to prove you really missed me."

"You do not believe me?"

She smiled, blushing a little. "I could pretend I don't. Would that work?"

"It just might. I will try not to disappoint," he said, raising her shirt up and off.

"You haven't yet."

"Good to know," he murmured. "Did I mention I missed you a lot?"

"Show me," she whispered, drawing him to her for a kiss. She didn't want to talk anymore. She'd made a decision, told him what it was, and he was still here. They had the rest of whatever to talk; she needed the physical now. Him in her, holding her, loving her as she knew only he could do.

**Part Eight**
Word Count: 1,426

June 2007

It was early enough in the morning they didn't need to worry about being discreet. The bartender would never remember a black man conversing with the man in horn-rimmed glasses while he sipped a Bloody Mary.

This was how they handled business, meeting at the Dallas airport before or - sometimes and - after assignments when necessary. They arrived here at different times, on different flights and did the same heading home. Neither was willing to chance someone noticing them. The Haitian had requested a face-to-face meeting for the first time in months so it had to be something important.

"I will be unavailable until after the baby comes. Unless it's of the utmost urgency." Straight and to the point. He liked that about The Haitian.

"Is she that close? She was barely showing last I saw her."

"A couple of months."

"She shouldn't be alone anymore than she has to be from now on."

"My sentiments exactly."

"How is she?"

"I left before you this trip if you recall, so I have not seen her since you have."

"Yes, but I meant, how is she really? We can't talk at the diner."

"She is fine, busy."

"I don't know why she insists on that job."

"To fit in, I believe."

"There are other ways to fit in."

"It gives you the opportunity to see her."

"It does have its benefits."

Both men were silent as Noah sipped his drink. He regarded the other man. He was more than a co-worker, especially now that they were trying to bring The Company down. And he was the father to his grandchild. No, The Haitian was his friend. A friend he had not envisioned ending up with his daughter.

When Claire had told him she was pregnant, he hadn't known what to say. Instinct told him he should be upset at the man sitting next to him. A man old enough to know how things work. A man who had no business taking advantage of his daughter.

He, however, knew his daughter well enough to know that he couldn't imagine her sitting idly by while someone did that. Memory of the car she'd crashed in retaliation of someone trying to do that was still far too fresh in his mind.

And so he was stuck. What did he do? What could he do? He wasn't in a position to do anything the stereotypical father would do under the circumstances.

He couldn't tell her to get an abortion, though apparently she'd thought about it judging by the tone of their limited conversation the day she'd dropped the news into his lap that he was going to become a grandfather. He still hadn't come to grips with that, he thought of himself as too young.

He conceded that perhaps she'd been dealt a difficult hand and had to grow up a little too fast so maybe he shouldn't be too hard on her. He didn't think she was the type to sleep around, so had to assume what she did with The Haitian had meant something. And now that they were living together. Well, he didn't want to go there.

He couldn't very well demand they get married. He wouldn't be able to ensure they carried it through anyway. And did he want that type of life for Claire anyway? A forced marriage, one out of convenience? No. He and Sandra had their moments and issues, certainly many had come to the forefront during the past few months that he hadn't anticipated. But, they had genuine feelings for one another and were able to weather the storm. He wanted nothing less for Claire. The fact she was with someone who knew her secret was a little easier. He knew what living a lie was like, living one at home was the hardest thing of all. Constantly lying to Sandra was unfair, a violation of the very vows he'd taken when he married her. That was done now, the lying. No more secrets, lies and deception. Their marriage was better for it.

"I have questions."

"All right," The Haitian said. He was never bothered when there was silence between them.

"Were you seeing her under my nose?"

"No, I would not do that," he said, but didn't sound entirely convincing.

"All right," he said quietly, satisfied with the answer even if it was evasive. He wasn't lying, but he wasn't being totally honest either.

"Are you with her only because of this?"

"I went to her because of the night she came to me that resulted in this, yes. But I went to her before I knew the results of that night. I would never have sought her out if she had not done so first."

"Because of me?"

"In part."

Apparently, he wasn't going to elaborate on what the other reasons were because he said nothing more.

"You will take care of her?"

"Until my last breath."

"You have money?"

"That's insulting."

"I didn't mean it that way. She's mine, carrying my grandchild, I have a right to know if you can afford a family."

"Yes. I've lived a meager existence for years now with no one to be responsible for or spend money on but myself. My expenses were covered generously. Same as my time. I have more than enough to support her and a child. Even one or two more if she so desired."

"Another one comes I'd best hear that there was a wedding somewhere along the way first."

The Haitian smiled slightly, a glimmer of something in his eyes.

"She deserves better than that," Noah added.

"She does."

"One is excusable, a mistake, but even if she doesn't you'd best be thinking from now on that she apparently gets pregnant quite easily."

"It would seem so."

So, he agreed with him. That made him feel better for some reason. He hoped he was just waiting for the right time, a new mother at barely eighteen was not the right time. Even Noah Bennet knew that much.

"I won't ask any more questions."

"Fair enough."

Silence again. It was time for him to go. He finished his drink, setting enough money on the bar to cover the tab. The bartender wouldn't remember what the money was for, but it would be there. He wasn't a thief.

"I haven't told my wife."

"About?"

"Any of it. I'm not sure I should. Becoming a grandmother, well, that's liable to set her off and lead to her saying something to someone she shouldn't."

"I agree."

"But I also promised that there would be no more secrets."

"You have to decide which is more important. The safety of your daughter or one secret when so many have already been revealed."

"And if she finds out?"

"I do not know. My interest is in the well-being of your daughter and my child first and foremost. If you believe your wife might endanger us then I suggest keeping a secret is necessary."

"So, just never tell her she has a grandchild? That her daughter is in a relationship?"

"If you feel it is necessary. You don’t tell her you see her anyway."

He was right. He hadn't told Sandra that he stopped to see Claire as he did. Why? She'd want to come with one day and it was best this way, completely cut off. So, he was already keeping a secret he supposed, but he liked to think it was for everyone's well being. He sighed, shaking his head as he stood to leave. They'd been there too long as it was, they needed to go their separate ways now.

"Are you off to home now?" he asked.

"Yes, I needed to tell you that this is it for me for the time being."

"I understand," he said, shaking The Haitian's hand. "Tell her I said hello, that I miss her."

"I will. She misses you very much."

"I miss her, too, more than she probably knows. I think it's the hardest thing I've had to do, send her away."

"I will take care of her."

"I know you will, it's one of the few thoughts that allows me to sleep at night. Let me know when she has it.

"I will," The Haitian said, preparing to take the bartender's memories away.

They went their separate ways then, Noah toward one terminal and The Haitian toward another. They even flew on different airlines, their paths never crossing except briefly at the bar. The bar where the bartender wouldn't remember them being together.

**Part Nine**
Word Count: 3,215

She closed the door, letting out a sigh as she fell to the floor as soon as she was inside. She had stopped being so tired for a while there. The past week or so she was back to being completely exhausted. That wasn't good. She was taking classes and working. She couldn't afford to be tired.

When her dad commented on how tired she looked, she knew she was in trouble. He'd been in that afternoon for his usual slice of pie and cup of coffee. He hadn't been in for over three weeks, not quite as long as The Haitian had been gone. She took her father's visit to mean that both were back, so she wasn't entirely surprised when he appeared before her.

She swallowed with a bit of effort at the sight of him. He was imposing normally, but currently he wore only a pair of drawstring warm-up pants. His bare feet, stomach and chest made for a very appetizing stroll up the length of his body to his face. God, he was nice to look at. And why his feet? She'd never thought of feet as being sexy before.

He'd just gotten out of the shower. How did she know that if he had pants on and no hair to be damp? She could smell him. He used a bath gel that smelled heavenly on him; something one of Angela's people had bought for him. They'd chosen well. He left a bottle here - for her. She would never admit how often she opened it just to smell it. To have that scent wrap around her, because for a little while after she'd closed the tube she could pretend he was there. It brought her comfort in a weird way.

He hadn't lied about being gone so much. She knew that, had known it wouldn't be easy. He wouldn't talk about it, but she knew he and her dad were involved in something. And they were doing it together. She missed him nevertheless. Both of them, because when one was gone she was deprived of the other, too.

"Are you all right?"

She laughed, letting her head fall back against the door. "No," she said simply. There was no sense lying about it.

"Do you need a doctor?"

"No, there's nothing a doctor can fix, not for a couple of months yet anyway."

"I do not understand."

"I can't do this anymore. I'm a wreck."

"While you look tired, you are not a wreck."

"That's easy for you to say! I had to put on a larger shirt for work today."

Smartly, he said nothing. His lips quivered into the hint of a smile, though.

"I saw that! You are so not laughing at me?!"

"No, I would not think to do such a thing to a woman in your state."

Her glare would have been reason enough for him to answer that way.

"I'm not in a state. I'm pregnant and I'm really, really tired of being that way."

"Claire…"

"What? I am! I'm taking summer school so that I can catch up on the semester I missed. Okay, I get why that's important. Stay normal and all that. I'm hot and miserable. My hair is growing like crazy but looks like crap. I can't drink enough water and the air conditioner doesn't keep the apartment cool enough at night. The only thing good I can say about all of this is that my nails look great."

"Is that your way of telling me I've been relegated to the couch?"

"No," she said, fighting the smile his question brought out of her. "It's not. Did I mention I had to wear a larger shirt for work today?"

"You did mention that, yes. You do not look as pregnant as you are."

She glared at him.

"Was that the wrong thing to say? You're seven months along, surely you are to look pregnant by now. At least somewhat."

"So you say!"

Then he did one of those things that should have upset her even more; he sat on the floor next to her. Why should it have upset her when he was clearly trying to comfort her? Well, because it was so easy for him to do! She'd struggle to get up or have to ask for his help.

It didn't make her upset or angry and she wanted to be mad. The hormones, or whatever was ruling her right now, wanted to yell, scream, and throw a fit. He wasn't making it easy for her to do.

"I am sorry I do not have the correct words to console you. You look quite beautiful to me."

"I look like a freak! You should see the way people on campus look at me."

"Mm, at least you're going to school. You should tell them that."

"As if they actually say anything to my face."

"Oh," he said simply.

"And Monica, she's so nice about it; says she wants to baby sit."

"Of course she's nice and is making such an offer. She likes you, Claire. Anyone watching the two of you together can tell that she genuinely cares for you. And the feeling is mutual."

"Yeah, she's nice." Monica was more than nice. Claire knew that she and Sally were "secretly" putting a baby shower together for Claire. Only thing was, Claire had no one to invite. Was she supposed to rent a family, too?

"You do not have to work. That is you being stubborn. Perhaps if you stopped you wouldn't be quite so tired."

"That wouldn't look right. I had to work to survive before I found out I was pregnant but now that I'm about to have a baby I don't need to."

"I am here now."

She sighed softly. "I know."

He slid an arm behind her back, drawing her to him. She went willingly as he pulled her onto his lap. He cradled her face in his hands. "I am sorry I cannot do more for you, but I am home now. And if you're agile enough to sit on my lap like this, you are not that big."

"I had to wear a larger shirt!"

"So you've said." He slid a hand to her abdomen and stroked it with his thumb. "I like you like this."

"You do?"

"Yes. If it were another's baby perhaps not, but I doubt that would stop me from finding you attractive."

"Thank you."

"You are welcome."

"How long are you home for?"

"A while."

"How long's a while."

"Mm, until the fall, perhaps longer."

"Oh. Why perhaps?"

"Perhaps you'll tire of me and wish to be rid of me."

"I doubt that."

"I know I've been gone a lot lately."

"You could say that."

"And it isn't as if you planned on a relationship with me."

"Neither did you."

"I'm probably more prepared for one than you are."

"Oh really, Mr. Don't Talk To Anyone?"

"Playing the role of a mute and using it to my advantage to garner information is not indicative that I was unready for a commitment."

"We're committed?"

He chuckled softly. "I'm not sure how much more committed we could be to this point. Are you planning on seeing others?"

"No!"

"Well, then."

She was quiet, thinking that over. Was he with her because of the baby? Was that the only reason? If she hadn't been pregnant where would they be? He had come to her, though, not knowing she was pregnant. And by the way she'd surprised him with that bit of information, he hadn't entertained the thought that she might be.

"So, I can drive you to school if you like."

"You know I like it when you do."

"Yes," he said. "Though you've never explained why. You are able to drive yourself."

"I don't drive here. I take the bus or walk. I already told you that. It'd be easier for me to leave and get away if no one knows what kind of car I drive. Only one person knows, and hopefully by the time he'd hear them knocking on his door I'd be long gone."

"I see."

"I like it when you drive me not just because it beats walking or taking the bus, but people see me with you."

"And this is good?"

"Well, yeah, before I started showing I just liked it. It's silly to you, I'm sure, but I don't get anything normal and that was normal to me."

"And now that you're showing?"

"I think some hope you're a lie to cover up the fact that I'm easy."

"They obviously do not know you very well."

"Right, because I didn't just randomly show up at your room one night and throw myself at you. That's what got me in this situation to begin with."

"You needed someone. That need manifested itself into sexual energy because it was me, us. That's not being easy. You wouldn't have done those things with anyone else."

He shifted her slightly on his lap, settling his arms at her back and rubbed a spot or two he knew bothered her most.

"I'm here until the baby is born."

She groaned softly, reacting to his touch more than his words. "Really?"

"Yes, and I've heard a rumor that your birthday is approaching, too."

"You did?"

"Yes."

"I wonder who would have passed on information like that to you."

"Someone wanting to ensure I do not upset a pregnant woman."

Her lips quivered into a smile.

"Hmm, he must be a pretty good man to do that."

"He is, yes. He hasn't even come close to shooting me yet."

"This is good news."

"It is," he said, working the buttons on her blouse. "I have better news."

"What's that?"

"I missed you and I'm home for months."

"That's the better news?"

"I was hoping you might be interested in showing me how excited you are at the prospect."

"Mm, excited?"

He slid the blouse over her shoulders and off, palming her breasts. He looked entranced just then, enthralled with her. By her. He slid his hands to her back, working the clasp there, letting the bra fall in a pile with the blouse.

"You are not excited?"

"I'm getting there."

"Me, too," he whispered. She met him half way, mouth finding his. The smell of him, that shower gel freshly used and all over him was just the right touch. She groaned softly as his hand slid to her thigh, pushing the hem of her rather conservative skirt up until it was less than conservative.

Her hands slid along his shoulders, collarbone, chest, and arms, taking in the feel of him once again. She shifted a little so he could enter her with a finger. She was ready for him.

His mouth went to her neck, sucking and licking there before drifting lower to her breasts as his fingers worked their magic inside of her. She clutched his head with her hands, moving against his fingers as he kept bringing her closer only stopping just short of letting her finish.

"You were tired…"

"Not that tired."

"I thought not," he murmured against her nipple before returning his attention to it. He was entirely too confident, but as his thumb grazed her clit at just the right time she didn't quite care. As long as he kept doing that.

She discovered he hadn't put anything on under the warm-up pants when she reached inside the waistband. She let out a soft groan when she had her hand around his shaft, her thumb coming away damp when she stroked it over his tip.

They managed to get the pants down enough without either of them having to move that she could slide him into her. He hadn't gotten her panties off, but they were easy enough to push to the side so he could be in her. Her hands gripped his shoulders tightly as she sank onto him. It had been almost a month and the whole healing thing made him a very tight fit after so long.

He muttered something in his native tongue, his head falling back against the door with a thump. She always wondered what he was saying when he did that. It always seemed to be during sex, and she forgot to ask him later. She liked it, though. It was kind of a turn-on that he had to resort to his first language when they were together like this. The extent of her knowledge when it came to his language was bčl for beautiful, he'd said it so often she'd finally asked.

One arm went around her, the other to the floor to steady him as he went to his feet taking her with him. Somehow, he managed to kick the warm-up pants off without tipping over.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"I thought the bed. I need…"

"I know," she said, kissing him. It had been so long that there was a sense of urgency to having him inside of her. She knew he felt the same way. Recreating their first time together, the neediness of it, was always exciting to both of them.

"Did you have something other in mind?"

She bit her lower lip.

"Don't be coy now, Claire. Please," he said, sounding desperate just then.

The bed was a good idea, certainly comfortable. But it was all the way in the other room and she wanted to feel his need for her now. Here. He shook his head, taking a step toward the bedroom. He'd keep going if she didn't stop him, not that he'd complain.

"The table," she whispered. His eyes widened briefly, but she knew he wasn't offended or thought she was strange.

He carried her easily the short distance to the table, setting her down with more care than was necessary considering. He raised one of her legs, kissing her thigh as he slid an arm under it. He repeated the process with the other one.

"You are sure?"

"Positive. You won't hurt me."

"This I know," he said as he bent over her, driving his next thrust in deep enough that she cried out. "Are you all right," he said, pulling back.

"God, yes, that was a good sound."

"You are sure?"

"More than."

She knew he wouldn't ask again. He had that look in his eyes, he was that close to losing control. He managed to hang onto it far longer than she could. She admired that about him, but she didn't regret allowing him to let go completely either. And she knew if she ever told him to stop or be gentler he would.

They did end up in bed eventually, moving to the not-so-urgent, slow aspect of lovemaking that they were quite good at, too. She was dozing, snuggled against him, aware enough to feel the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. Otherwise, she was pretty out of it. Exhaustion from being pregnant and a couple of orgasms added up to a very tired Claire.

"You're really here until after the baby?"

"Your father was more than happy to oblige my request."

"He was, huh?"

"Yes."

"Will you be able to show him pictures?"

"Yes," he said simply. "And maybe some time I can be at the diner when he comes in."

"That'd be nice."

"I am sorry it has to be this way."

"Me, too. You, like, talk to him? Really talk to him?"

"Yes," he said softly, running his fingers through his hair.

"Do you tell him I love him?"

"Yes."

"Thank you."

"You are welcome. He misses you."

"Me, too."

"I hope I am a suitable substitute?"

She chuckled, kissing his chest. "Most of the time."

"Only most?"

"There are just times a girl needs her dad. And, well, this is his grandchild."

"He will know it as best as he can, Claire. You would do our child no good captured by The Company."

"I know that."

"Just making sure." He slid lower on the bed, his hand grazing along her thigh. "Did I mention my thought of ordering Chinese?"

"No, you failed to mention that."

"Are you hungry?"

"Famished."

"Why didn't you say so?"

"Because I hadn't thought about it until you mentioned food. You've kept me occupied with other things I needed."

"Such as?"

"You."

He kissed her, lingering long enough to leave her breathless. "I'm glad I sated one need, let's see about the other. Besides, I need to talk to you about this birthday of yours."

"You do?"

"Yes. I have no idea what you would like."

"Well, I don't know. I've never had a guy offer to buy me presents before."

"No one?"

"Other than my dad and Lyle, and I'm pretty sure that's my mom or dad buying something just saying it's from Lyle."

"Hmm, I will need to think on this then."

"You realize you're my first boyfriend? So, the whole gift-giving thing is so out of my realm of knowledge."

"I had my suspicions. While I'm surprised given as pretty as you are I cannot deny that pleases me."

"It would," she said with a smirk.

"You're going to leave me to figure out what you might like by myself, aren't you?"

"Yeah, kind of."

"That is not very nice."

She giggled softly, kissing his chest. "I can show you very nice if you need to be reminded about how much I can be."

"We need to get food ordered, then you can remind me."

"I don't want to get dressed again."

"Then do not."

"Well, I have to."

"Why?"

"Because," she shrugged. "I don't know. I just do."

"I'll get the food. We can eat it in here."

"But…"

"I've seen you without your clothes on."

"Yeah, but not eating!"

"And this bothers you?"

"Well, it's just," she frowned. "I mean, my parents." She shook her head. "I so don't want to go there."

"Then put one of my shirts on. It's big enough that it should cover you."

"Okay."

"You're being very silly."

"I am not! I just, it's too weird. Nakedness is not for sitting around eating Chinese food."

He rolled on top of her, kissing her belly before nipping the underside of one of her breasts. "It is if you have plans that don't require clothes after you're done eating."

She skimmed his leg with her foot, arching against him as he slid lower on the bed. He took her with him, so her feet and legs hung off the edge of the bed. She wasn't that big that him being on top of her was too uncomfortable, but he didn't like to take chances. This was how he knew just how to be with her on the table earlier.

"Yeah, well, you can just take your shirt off me. Or not, like my having a shirt on has ever stopped you."

"You're not wearing a shirt now."

"You noticed?"

"I'm not sure I noticed anything but for quite some time now."

"Thank you," she said with a blush, sliding her feet to the back of his thighs to draw him to her. He took the hint, sliding inside of her.

"I think I should be thanking you."

**Part Ten**
Word Count: 1,975

"Are you sure you do not want me to contact your father?"

"Positive," she said curtly. Not that he could blame her. There wasn't anything her father could really do anyway.

"Claire, I…"

"Look, don't say it, all right. Please, just let's get this over with. I can't believe I had to wait three days!"

She'd been little more than a zombie during that time. She wouldn't eat, he had to force her to take a shower this morning, and he was pretty sure he'd take to burning the clothes she wore since her visit to the doctor's office three days ago.

He let her off at the front doors to the hospital. She paused, her hand on the door handle.

"You don't have to come in."

Was she insane? Were the hormones making her that delusional that she truly believed he'd drop her at the door and just leave her here?

"Obligation has not entered into one decision I've made pertaining to you yet."

"All right," she whispered, opening the door.

He parked the car and found her sitting on a bench by the doors when he walked from the parking lot. She wasn't looking at anything in particular, just staring off into space. It was something he'd grown oddly accustomed to the past couple of days as it was all she did.

"Claire," he said, knowing that asking if she was ready was the wrong question. Her appointment was scheduled for less than ten minutes from now. Not that it would matter if she was late, but there was no sense prolonging the inevitable.

"I know," she said, standing then. She took his offered hand, clutching it as if he was the only thing keeping her from falling. And he may have been at the moment.

She was checked in, tagged with one of those ID bracelets and up in the private room in no time. The clothes he'd carefully chosen less than an hour ago were shed in favor of a hospital gown. The nurse was talkative while explaining the various devices and getting the IV ready, but she knew the mood in the room was somber so wasn't overly chatty. It helped, he imagined, that he said nothing in response to her various statements or comments.

She patted Claire's hand once the IV was in and the machine distributing the chemical to her body was working.

"If you need anything, just let me know. I'll be your nurse all day."

All day? He hadn't thought it would take that long. Perhaps she had said so, but he hadn't really believed it would.

"Thanks," she whispered, settling onto the bed.

He had to wonder what sort of sick joke it was putting her on the maternity wing, but he imagined that was standard protocol for any baby delivered.

She didn't talk much, but he was never far from her bed when she wanted to. Sometimes she just seemed to want to know he was there. He saw a look in her eyes he didn't understand and wasn't in the position to ask about it. At least not today.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered when the drugs were well on their way to doing as intended.

He sat on the edge of the bed. She shifted a little to accommodate him and he lay next to her as best as the bed would allow. His arm went around her.

"You have nothing to apologize for."

"You changed your life for nothing."

He shook his head. "You are not nothing and are well worth any change in my life."

"But if there'd been no baby…"

"Perhaps things would have progressed at a slower pace, but I'd still be here."

She wiped her eyes before he could get her a tissue for the tears.

"You're not just saying that?"

"I understand you feel as though you failed or did something wrong. Your doctor told you that is not so. These things happen, Claire. We will have other opportunities to make a baby. Later when the timing is better. You heard him as well as I did, even if it had been born it may not have survived."

"May."

"You can change your mind on the autopsy."

"No!" she said adamantly.

"I do not want one either, I assure you, but I realize this is more personal to you than it is to me."

"It's our…"

"I know it was ours, but you were the one carrying it and felt it kick before I ever could."

He moved from the bed when the nurse came in. He glanced at the clock, realizing hours had in fact passed. He couldn't imagine how she was going to recover from this. Too far along to be a miscarriage, their baby had to be delivered in the usual way. He had made arrangements for a plot and a service to be conducted. For that, he would contact her father. He respected her wishes about not wanting him here at the hospital, but The Haitian felt he deserved to know.

She had asked him a question the night after the doctor appointment when they'd found out the baby had not survived. She wanted to know what if she wasn't meant to have children. He couldn't provide an answer for her beyond telling her that they would then adopt if that were the case. He didn't understand, if her body was going to reject a pregnancy, why it would wait so far into it to do so. So, he believed that it wasn't her ability that had caused the death, but something else altogether. He would never know.

She knew who it was touching her without looking. How? Rene was beside her already, holding her hand. Keeping her from falling to her knees was more accurate. She still couldn't believe she'd gone through everything she had to this point only to have nothing to show for it. Nothing but a small little casket, ready to be settled in a small little plot in the cemetery.

She let her head rest against her father's chest, welcoming his comforting touch as if she was a child again requiring the safety his arms provided to keep a nightmare at bay.

He said nothing. No one did. The priest had left a while ago, leaving them alone with their daughter whom they'd named Aimee while Claire held her in the hospital. The workers were hovering nearby, waiting for them to leave so they could lower the casket. Oh, they were out of sight, but Claire knew they were there. Like vultures.

I have a daughter.

Only thing was, she would never get to do any of the things with her daughter her mother had done with her. Rene would never be able to do the things with her he wanted to.

"It's so unfair," she finally said. A grave marker would be added eventually. She had her father's last name, which Claire was fine with. Pierce wasn't her real last name and using Bennet could cause problems.

She turned then to face her father. It was the first time since the day at the movies she'd seen him away from the diner. She stepped into his offered hug and she wept. Her shoulders shook she cried so hard. The soothing way he kissed the top of her head and smoothed down her hair made her think that maybe, just possibly she'd get over this.

"I'm so sorry, Claire," her dad said when the crying wasn't so violent.

"Thank you," she mumbled against his shirt.

"You're taking some time off from work?"

"Yeah," she said softly.

"I'll see you again when you come back. If you need anything…"

"I know, he'll get a hold of you."

"Yes."

"Thanks."

She should wonder how he knew to be here, but one look at Rene and she had her answer. She hadn't wanted her dad at the hospital. It was too humiliating and painful to make him sit there and watch her go through what she had. She'd never thought that she'd come home from the hospital at this point with anything but a living, breathing infant. The very idea of losing it this far along hadn't entered her mind. Everything she'd read, everything she'd been told suggested the first trimester was the bad time and once you were past that you were pretty safe.

Her father let go of her. The Haitian's hand took possession of hers once again so she was barely without contact from one of the two of them for more than a minute.

He left then. She watched as he walked in the direction of his car. He'd leave with no chance of following them. He wouldn't endanger her for anything, coming to the cemetery today was as close as he'd come. She noticed that there were fresh flowers on a nearby grave marker and realized even coming here he'd had a plan, a cover story.

"Are you ready to go home?" Rene asked.

She sighed, knowing standing here staring at the coffin and the open ground waiting to swallow it up was doing her no good. She just felt like she shouldn't leave. She was abandoning Aimee, leaving her behind. Though, of course, that wasn't true.

"Yes," she said finally.

She stared out the window toward where Aimee was, expecting to see the workers to be there already. They were not, so evidently they had some semblance of decency and were waiting until they were gone. She knew the next time she came the ground would be whole again, no sign of disturbance.

She let out a sob again, not at all surprised when he handed her a handkerchief.

"Thank you," she whispered.

He did not reply. He was a man of few words any other time, today was no exception. There was nothing he could say and he seemed to know that.

She changed when they got back to her apartment, tossing the dress onto the floor. She hoped to never see it again, though she imagined Rene would pick it up, hang it in the closet behind his things so it would be out of sight but not gone completely.

She fell into bed then. He'd done so much the past week since she found out she wasn't going to be bringing home a baby. He cleaned and did laundry and had put away all signs of the fact that she'd been getting prepared to bring a baby home. The only thing he'd left out was the stuffed Piglet her father had gifted to them. It was the only gift she'd received for the baby that was personal rather than furniture, clothes or books.

He closed the blinds and walked into the other room. She heard the click of the dead bolt fall into place. She heard him walking through the rest of the apartment, ensuring he hadn't overlooked anything. The place was dark and she realized he'd closed all of the blinds, something she didn't usually ever do.

He showed her his cell phone before setting it on the nightstand next to his side of the bed. It was off. She imagined it would stay that way for a while. He slid into bed with her and without a word took her into his arms.

"I can take it from you if you wish me to," he murmured in the dark.

"No," she whispered. The thought had occurred to her as soon as she'd found out the baby was no longer living. That wouldn't be fair, though, because he'd remember. "I couldn't do that to you. But thank you for asking."

"All right," he whispered.

She had to remember, he'd lost her, too. For today, though, she wanted to be selfish and take the comfort he was offering to her.

**Part Ten**
Word Count: 2,137

"Are you sure you do not want me to contact your father?"

"Positive," she said curtly. Not that he could blame her. There wasn't anything her father could really do anyway.

"Claire, I…"

"Look, don't say it, all right. Please, just let's get this over with. I can't believe I had to wait three days!"

She'd been little more than a zombie during that time. She wouldn't eat, he had to force her to take a shower this morning, and he was pretty sure he'd take to burning the clothes she wore since her visit to the doctor's office three days ago.

He stopped at the front doors to the hospital. She paused, her hand on the door handle, refusing to look at him. Something else she hadn't done much of the past few days. He was beginning to feel invisible. What was more, accustomed to speaking very little, he prayed, wished for the right words to say this time. None came to him.

"You don't have to come in."

Was she insane? Were the hormones making her that delusional that she truly believed he'd drop her at the door and just leave her here? He left those questions unasked, realizing she would only get more upset if he actually asked them.

"Obligation has not entered into one decision I've made pertaining to you. And it's not going to start today."

"All right," she whispered, opening the door.

He parked the car and found her sitting on a bench by the doors when he walked from the parking lot. She wasn't looking at anything in particular, just staring off into space. It was something he'd grown oddly accustomed to the past couple of days as it was all she did. The television would be on, but it may as well have been tuned to a channel with nothing but static for all she paid attention.

"Claire," he said, knowing that asking if she was ready was the wrong question. Her scheduled appointment was for less than ten minutes from now. Not that it would matter if she was late, but there was no sense prolonging the inevitable.

"I know," she said, standing then. She took his offered hand, clutching it as if he was the only thing keeping her from falling. And he may have been at the moment.

She was checked in, tagged with one of those ID bracelets and up in the private room in no time. The clothes he'd carefully chosen less than an hour ago were shed in favor of a hospital gown. The nurse was talkative while explaining the various devices and getting the IV ready, but she knew the mood in the room was somber so wasn't overly chatty. It helped, he imagined, that he said nothing in response to her various statements or comments.

She patted Claire's hand once the IV was in and the machine distributing the chemical to her body was working.

"If you need anything, just let me know. I'll be your nurse all day."

All day? He hadn't thought it would take that long. Perhaps she had said so, but he hadn't really believed it would.

"Thanks," she whispered, settling on the bed.

He had to wonder what sort of sick joke it was putting her on the maternity wing, but he imagined that was standard protocol for any baby delivered.

She didn't talk much, but he was never far from her bed when she wanted to. Sometimes she just seemed to want to know he was there. He saw a look in her eyes he didn't understand and wasn't in the position to ask about it. At least not today. If their relationship had been more secure, not seemingly based on the very reason she was here today, he might have been.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered when the drugs were well on their way to doing as intended.

He sat on the edge of the bed. She shifted a little to accommodate him and he lay next to her as best as the bed would allow. He slid an arm around her, kissing her temple.

"You have nothing to apologize for."

"You changed your life for nothing."

He shook his head. "You are not nothing and are well worth any change in my life."

"But if there'd been no baby…"

"Perhaps things would have progressed at a slower pace, but I'd still be here."

She wiped her eyes before he could get her a tissue for the tears.

"You're not just saying that?"

"I understand you feel as though you failed or did something wrong. Your doctor told you that is not so. These things happen, Claire. We will have other opportunities to make a baby. Later when the timing is better. You heard him as well as I did, even if it had been born it may not have survived."

"May."

"You can change your mind on the autopsy."

"No!" she said adamantly.

"I do not want one either, I assure you, but I realize this is more personal to you than it is to me."

"It's our…"

"I know it was ours, but you were the one carrying it and felt it kick before I ever could."

He moved from the bed when the nurse came in. He glanced at the clock, realizing hours had in fact passed. He couldn't imagine how she was going to recover from this. Too far along to be a miscarriage, their baby had to be delivered in the usual way. He had made arrangements for a plot and a service to be conducted. For that, he would contact her father. He respected her wishes about not wanting him here at the hospital, but Rene felt the other man deserved to know.

She had asked him a question the night after the doctor appointment when they'd found out the baby had not survived. She wanted to know what if she wasn't meant to have children. He couldn't provide an answer for her beyond telling her that they would then adopt if that were the case. He didn't understand, if her body was going to reject a pregnancy, why it would wait so far into it to do so. So, he believed that it wasn't her ability that had caused the death, but something else altogether. He would never know barring an autopsy, and neither wanted that done. It was horrific to think of someone so tiny being carved up to ease their minds that they had not inadvertently done something wrong.

She knew who it was touching her without looking. How? Rene was beside her already, holding her hand. Keeping her from falling to her knees was more accurate. She still couldn't believe she'd gone through everything she had to this point only to have nothing to show for it. Nothing but a small little casket, ready to be settled in a small little plot in the cemetery.

She let her head rest against her father's chest, welcoming his comforting touch as if she was a child again requiring the safety his arms provided to keep a nightmare at bay.

He said nothing. No one did. The priest had left a while ago, leaving them alone with their daughter whom they'd named Aimee while Claire held her in the hospital. The workers were hovering nearby, waiting for them to leave so they could lower the casket. Oh, they were out of sight, but Claire knew they were there. Like vultures.

I have a daughter.

Only thing was, she would never get to do any of the things with her daughter her mother had done with her. Rene would never be able to do the things with her he wanted to.

"It's so unfair," she finally said. A grave marker would be added eventually. She had her father's last name, which Claire was fine with. Pierce wasn't her real last name and using Bennet could cause problems.

She turned then to face her father. It was the first time since the day at the movies she'd seen him away from the diner. She stepped into his offered hug and she wept. Her shoulders shook she cried so hard. The soothing way he kissed the top of her head and smoothed down her hair made her think that maybe, just possibly she'd get over this.

"I'm so sorry, Claire," her dad said when the crying wasn't so violent. "I know that doesn't begin to cover it."

"Thank you," she mumbled against his shirt.

"You're taking some time off from work?"

"Yeah," she said softly.

"I'll see you again when you come back. If you need anything…"

"I know. He'll get a hold of you."

"Yes."

"Thanks."

She should wonder how he knew to be here, but one look at Rene and she had her answer. She hadn't wanted her dad at the hospital. It was too humiliating and painful to make him sit there and watch her go through what she had. She'd never thought that she'd come home from the hospital at this point with anything but a living, breathing infant. The very idea of losing it this far along hadn't entered her mind. Everything she'd read, everything she'd been told suggested the first trimester was the bad time and once you were past that you were pretty safe.

Her father let go of her. The Haitian's hand took possession of hers once again so she was barely without contact from one of the two of them for more than a minute.

He left then. She watched as he walked in the direction of his car. He'd leave with no chance of following them. He wouldn't endanger her for anything, coming to the cemetery today was as close as he'd come. She noticed that there were fresh flowers on a nearby grave marker and realized even coming here he'd had a plan, a cover story.

"Are you ready to go home?" Rene asked.

She sighed, knowing standing here staring at the coffin and the open ground waiting to swallow it up was doing her no good. She just felt like she shouldn't leave. She was abandoning Aimee, leaving her behind. Though, of course, that wasn't true.

"No, but I know I have to," she said finally.

She stared out the window toward where Aimee was, expecting to see the workers there already. They were not, so evidently they had some semblance of decency and were waiting until they were gone. She knew the next time she came the ground would be whole again, no sign of disturbance.

She let out a sob again, not at all surprised when he handed her a handkerchief.

"Thank you," she whispered.

He did not reply. He was a man of few words any other time, today was no exception. There was nothing he could say and he seemed to know that.

She changed when they got back to her apartment, tossing the dress onto the floor. She hoped to never see it again, though she imagined Rene would pick it up, hang it in the closet behind his things so it would be out of sight but not gone completely.

She fell into bed then. He'd done so much the past week since she found out she wasn't going to be bringing home a baby. He cleaned and did laundry and had put away all signs of the fact that she'd been getting prepared to bring a baby home. The only thing he'd left out was the stuffed Piglet her father had gifted to them. It was the only gift she'd received for the baby that was personal rather than furniture, clothes or books.

He closed the blinds and walked into the other room. She heard the click of the dead bolt fall into place. She heard him walk through the rest of the apartment, ensuring he hadn't overlooked anything. The place was dark and she realized he'd closed all of the blinds, something she didn't usually ever do.

He showed her his cell phone before setting it on the nightstand next to his side of the bed. It was off. She imagined it would stay that way for a while. He slid into bed with her and without a word took her into his arms.

"I can take it from you if you wish me to," he murmured in the dark.

"No," she whispered. The thought had occurred to her as soon as she'd found out the baby was no longer living. That wouldn't be fair, though, because he'd remember. "I couldn't do that to you. But thank you for asking."

"All right," he whispered.

She had to remember, he'd lost her, too. For today, though, she wanted to be selfish and take the comfort he was offering to her.

"You're sure she's all right?"

"No, I am not certain she's all right."

"Then why are you here."

"You called and said you needed my help."

"If you don't think she should be left alone."

"I don't know, but I don't think she'd appreciate knowing you put yourself in danger because of her."

"She'll always come first," Noah said simply.

"Of course."

"Are you staying?" her father asked.

"Where?"

"With her?"

"I suppose that's up to her."

"You don't think she wants you to?"

"I know that there's a part of her that believes the baby is the only reason I've been here this long."

"She might push you away."

"I'm prepared for that possibility."

"She's going to be emotional. Might say some cruel things."

"Yes," he said simply. She already had a time or two. He took it, said nothing back. There was no point in arguing with her. No point in replying. She was hurting in a way he would never understand.

They completed the job, though it took longer than Noah had anticipated. A couple of days turned into five. And so it had been close to a week since he'd last seen her when he returned to the apartment. He'd spoken to her every day.

There was one thing he hadn't told her over the phone, though. He wasn't sure what had made him hold back the information until he returned to her physically. He had to agree, getting her out of Midland for a while at least would probably be best. He wasn't sure she was going to go along with it, though.

He was surprised to find the apartment clean when he got home. Not that she wasn't a clean person, but she'd been so depressed over the loss of their child he wasn't exactly sure what he'd come home to.

Home.

He'd never really had a home before. Someone to be accountable to and who counted on him for more than just what his ability offered. It was a foreign feeling, being needed and wanted simply for being him.

And he was about to present her with an offer that would take her away from him and their home for a while.

Not only was the apartment clean, but she was as well. Dressed in clothes that indicated she may have left for a while even. He was grateful to see that was the case.

"Hi," she said from the couch.

"Hi yourself," he replied.

"Good trip?"

He shrugged. It was hard to answer the questions she asked about his business. Sometimes it was a good trip in his eyes, but others might not agree. It was all relative after all. And what he and her father were doing while good long-term was iffy at best probably when viewed through anyone else's eyes.

"Yes," he said simply. It was the only answer he could give really. "You look nice," he said.

"As opposed to usually, you mean?"

"Lately, I'd have to admit to thinking that, yes."

"I'm trying."

"I know you are. I have something that may help you."

"You do, huh?"

He chuckled lightly at the flirtatious tone in her voice. That had been missing for a while now.

"Yes."

"I think that's what got me into this mood to begin with."

"That was very harsh, Claire."

"I was teasing. I'm sorry. What's this something?"

"Well, it's part of some good news. I could have told you over the phone, but I saved it."

"Good news is always a bonus."

"They've found Peter."

Her eyes shot up then. Until that moment she hadn't really been paying attention, probably thinking he was making another silly attempt to get her out of her funk.

"That is good news. Is he?"

"He's alive and well. For the most part."

"What does that mean?"

"He can't remember anything."

"Oh," she said suspiciously.

"I had nothing to do with this bout of his memory loss."

"So, how does that help me?"

"The Petrelli's and your father thought that you might enjoy a break from Midland."

"Doing what?"

"So suspicious."

"A little."

"Watching over Peter as he recuperates. He can't go to a regular hospital or rehabilitation center. Too many questions would be raised. All stemming from his absence never being reported."

"I still can't believe they got away with that."

"People see and hear what they want to."

"Where is he?"

"He's at his brother's home in the Hampton's for now. They've arranged for a very nice, private area where he can take the time he needs to acclimate to being back and hopefully regain his memories."

"And they thought it'd be a good idea to have me there?"

"He doesn't need a nurse or medical care per say. He just needs someone with him. We all know you were fond of each other. Perhaps being around you would stir his mind into regaining memories."

"So, I'm a tool."

"That and you're someone the family knows can be discreet."

"Would you come with me?"

"Alas, that would be the pitfall. No, it would just be the two of you."

"Oh," she said, nibbling at her lower lip as she did when she was thinking things over.

"Perhaps you don't think it's a pitfall?"

"I didn't say that. You could visit, though?"

"Yes, of course, if you desire it."

She frowned a little at that. "Do you desire it?"

"What kind of a question is that?"

"I don't know. It seems almost like you're shipping me off somewhere out of the way so you don't have to deal with me anymore."

"I've never approached anything about you as dealing with you, Claire."

"It's just awfully convenient."

"For whom?"

"You! You get out of having to be all domestic with me without actually breaking up with me."

"I never claimed I wanted to do this breaking up."

"But you'd visit if I desire it, not you."

He sighed heavily. "This uncertainty runs both ways, Claire. You suspect somewhere in your mind that the only reason I'm with you was because of Aimee. No Aimee, no reason to be with you any longer."

"It doesn't take a brain surgeon to figure it out, all right?"

"And what of me?"

"What of you?"

"What about my doubts? You asked me to live here because you didn't want to be and raise a baby alone. You didn't even request I live with you. Perhaps you don't want a relationship with me now that there is no Aimee holding us into one."

She was silent, but he could tell she was thinking on what he'd said.

"Your father is the only one who is aware I know of your whereabouts to present such an offer to you immediately. I assume Nathan and Angela believe your father will contact you via email."

"Okay."

"Your father and I thought some time away from here might be good for you."

"You want time away from me?"

He shook his head. "You're not hearing what I'm saying; you're hearing what you want to hear, Claire. And it's because of that I do think it'd be a good thing for you. I hate the idea of you being alone, but being with me right now doesn't seem to be helping."

"So you do want time away from me."

"I want you to get better. I want you to be whole again. You will of course mourn the loss of Aimee and no one expects you to just get over that loss. But I cannot be what you need if you can't even help yourself, Claire."

"And being with Peter will help."

"Perhaps you can help one another heal."

She turned away then, walking to the window. He noticed it was clean, as if she'd just washed it. Other things around the apartment had that look to them, too. So she must have been busy while he was away. That was good, but he still wasn't sure being here where Aimee was supposed to be was good for her. He wasn't even sure she would have seen the pregnancy through if he hadn't made an appearance into her life as he did.

"You're breaking up with me."

He could hear the tears in her voice, saw her shoulders shaking. He went to her, unable to resist comforting her.

"You said yourself I'm your first."

"So?"

He sighed, kissing the top of her head. "I'm not breaking up with you. I'm offering you time to figure out for yourself if this is what you want. Being here with me clouds things. You're still so young, have so much life yet to live."

"That bothers you?"

He shrugged a little. "Not really, no, but I don’t want it to bother you. I need to know, Claire, that we're together out of want on your part not out of some sense of obligation or need. Nothing is expected of you. Your father won't think less of you if you decide being with me is not what you want."

"Would you?"

"Think less of you? No, of course not. Would I be disappointed? Yes, I would, but I'm not the one who had what she presumed was a one-night stand turn into something more serious."

"I'll do it."

"Okay," he said, unsure he was happy about her decision or not. He was used to letting things go, and he would do it to her as well if need be.

"I'm only doing it because Peter needs help and there's probably not many other people who have time on their hands as I do. That was the reasoning, right? Everyone else has important work to do except me."

"More or less," he agreed.

"Are you going to stay here?"

"I'd planned on it."

"And you'll visit."

"Yes," he said.

"That was the answer you should have given to begin with, you know," she said turning in his arms to face him.

"I will not be dishonest with you, Claire. And I won't have doubt clouding our relationship. I'm not going to force myself on you or into your life."

"I know. You didn't."

"I didn't?"

"No. I didn't have to agree to your moving in here. I didn't have to tell you about Aimee at all."

"I would have been very hurt had you not."

"Yeah, I thought of that, too. Of my dad telling you I was pregnant and you thinking that I'd hooked up with someone else after you."

"You would have had every right to do so."

She reached up, standing on the tips of her toes and kissed him. "No, I wouldn't have."

"Well, we weren't committed."

"I guess I'm not a one-night stand kind of girl because once I left your room I knew I couldn't just start seeing someone else."

"That is good to know."

She grazed his lips with her thumb, tracing the outline of the smirk that he currently wore.

"You know what else is good to know?"

"What's that?"

"The doctor says I'm fine."

"That is good news for certain." He hadn't realized there was a doubt as to whether she was fine or not.

She laughed a little. "You don't know what I'm talking about, do you?"

"I guess not."

She dropped her hand in his and started toward their room. He followed, helpless to do anything else where she was concerned. She walked to his side of the bed and opened the nightstand drawer he had there. Until now the drawer had remained empty aside from whatever book he was currently reading.

His eyes widened a little at the sight of more than just a few condoms taking up space in there now.

"I see," he said.

"Obviously she knows I didn't intend on getting pregnant and I told her I couldn't take the pill."

"You cannot?"

"I am guessing it wouldn't work on me. I certainly don't want to take the chance. Do you?"

"Ever?"

"Huh?"

"Well, when you're done with college and a baby wouldn't be viewed as a hardship or a mistake it might be worth finding out if such a form of birth control worked."

"Oh right, sure, but not now. I really don't want to go through that again right away. Especially if there was nothing wrong but me and my ability."

"There is someone with your ability who has had children."

"Really?" she asked, sounding so hopeful. "I'd like to meet her someday."

"It isn't a she."

"Well, that may not mean I can, but at least it's better than knowing someone like me who never had kids."

"Are you sure?" he asked, taking one of the condoms out of the drawer. "I don't want you feeling pressured."

"I don't. You didn't bring it up, I did. And we don't have to. I just wanted you to know that I was cleared."

He chuckled softly. "With your ability you were probably clear long before now."

"Well, yeah, but I couldn't tell the doctor that. So I waited the obligatory six weeks and went to see him to be sure."

"And he didn't find anything about you unusual?"

"He didn't say anything, no. What's he going to say? How'd you get pregnant and remain a virgin?" She shrugged. "I don't know what else to do."

"Next time, take me with you I can block your ability for that little while."

"I hadn't thought of that. And what if you're not around next time?"

"I'm not going to disappear from your life, Claire. Whatever may happen in the future between us, I will always be here for you if you need me."

"Yeah, but talk about embarrassing. You'd have to go into the room with me, right?"

He shrugged. "Probably standing outside the door would be enough. I've never experimented with my ability to that precise of a degree."

"Well, I'll keep it in mind for next time. I have to admit, I hope it's a very, very long time from now."

He dropped the condom, sliding his hand to her face, placing a finger under her chin. "Don't let the loss of Aimee prevent you from trying for more if you want more, Claire. I understand if the idea of losing more upsets you and makes you hesitant to try, but we saw with our own eyes that she was normal at least outwardly. That would point to something being wrong, not your ability. As I said, if it's me you're going through it with, adoption is always an option."

She hugged him tight, resting her head against him. "You know just what to say."

"I try."

She chuckled. "When do I leave?"

"Trying to get rid of me already?"

"No, just wondering. It sounds like they want him out of sight pretty soon."

"As soon as you're willing to leave, I imagine."

"Will you take me to the airport?"

"You know I will."

"Thank you," she said, lifting her head away from him a little.

"If you don't want to go."

"No, Peter needs help and as much as I hate to acknowledge it, I'm the expendable one. So, I'll go and play nursemaid." She frowned then.

"What?"

"He's not going to know who I am. The first time we met he didn't know me, but he at least knew I was who he had to save. I don't even get that this time."

"No one said this was going to be easy, Claire. You'll have to sit and watch someone you care about struggle to remember every little thing."

"And there's nothing you can do to help him?"

"How?"

"I don't know. You can take memories. You can't put them back?"

"I wish I could, but no."

She drew away from him then and he watched her push the covers back on the bed. She picked up the packet he'd dropped and set it in the palm of his hand.

"I love you, you know. A few weeks or months with Peter aren't going to change that."

"I appreciate you saying so, and you know how I feel for you."

"I do," she said, but he could tell she wished he'd actually say it. He just couldn't do it until he knew for certain where they were. Perhaps his inability to say those words would be their undoing and he'd laugh at himself if it was the case.

He had doubts, though. He knew the feelings she'd had for Peter were more than friendly before she found out he was her uncle. He was sending her where she'd be alone night and day with a man who did not know she was his niece.

"You look so serious," she said.

"Just thinking."

"I put a condom in your hand and you have to think."

"Not about that," he said quickly.

"Are you sure?"

She thought he didn't want her any longer. They hadn't been intimate in any capacity in so long beyond hugging and sharing a bed.

"Of course I'm sure."

"If you don't want to."

"Claire, just moments ago you thought I was breaking up with you. Do you want to? Or is this you thinking it will somehow keep us together? Just because the doctor cleared you physically doesn't mean that mentally you're ready. I don't expect you to instantly have sex with me again because your doctor said you could."

"Well, men."

He set the condom in the drawer and shut it, sitting on the bed near her.

"I'm not men, Claire. I'm me. I love being with you but if you're not ready I'm not going to force you."

"I know. I just thought and especially if I'm going away."

"What's that saying I've heard? Good things come to those who wait. I have no doubt when you're ready it will be very good and well worth the wait. I don’t want the ghost of our child haunting you while I make love to you."

She blushed then, tilting her head lower to try and hide it so she must have known she was blushing badly.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"You'll take care of her while I'm gone."

"Between your father and I, she will be looked after properly."

"Flowers?"

"Of course," he said without hesitation.

"Okay," she said, leaning against him once more.

He maneuvered them to the bed so he could hold her more comfortably, settling her against him the way she liked to lay when they were together like this. Lately, it had always been like this. He hadn't been willing to initiate even the minimal touch that could be construed as suggestive for fear she would reject him or get upset.

"I'm glad you're home," she said.

"Me, too. And it will remain our home. You're only away temporarily, it's not forever."

***Part Twelve***
Word Count: 1,507

How she ended up in Wisconsin was beyond her. Rene said Peter was in the Hampton's. She'd pictured something along those lines when she'd agreed to this.

They had a large cabin on a lake in the middle of nowhere. Like thirty miles to the nearest town nowhere. She had a nice allowance and a credit card for emergencies. Other than groceries and day-to-day incidentals she really had no expenses, though. So, money wasn't an issue.

She'd met Peter at a small airport. She had no idea who had traveled with him. They hadn't gotten off the plane. It was so hard seeing that look in his eyes. Confusion. Lost. A blank slate.

He'd looked at the cabin much the same way she had at first.

"I like the other place better," he'd said.

Claire had no doubt it was better. While the cabin was nice, it would look like a shack in the Hamptons.

They swam, went for walks in the woods, boat rides on the lake, and even fished. Claire wasn't great at fishing or boating, but there was no telling what might jog his memory. So, whatever he wanted to do she did.

Claire cooked most of the time, but every couple of days they went to a nearby bar for burgers. Peter drank beer while she had Coke. It was nice to get out of the cabin and be among people.

She talked to Rene every night before bed. They didn't say a whole lot, but she just felt better talking to him. He called if she was running more than ten minutes late from the usual time she called. So she knew he missed her, too.

Today, she'd get better than a phone call, though. He was coming to visit. She'd brought Peter with her to town, buying groceries before picking Rene up from the airport.

"No improvement?" Rene asked when they'd gotten to the cabin.

"Not really."

"I'm sorry."

"It's all right. It's why I'm here, right? The expendable one."

"Indeed," he said, sliding his arms around her. "I don't like it."

She frowned, her head against his chest. "Like what?"

"You being so far away from me."

"Me neither," she whispered, listening to his heartbeat. She'd gotten used to fallen asleep to that sound.

He stepped away a little, sliding his hands to either cheek. He kissed her, this one much better than the one at the airport had been.

"I've missed you," he murmured.

"Me, too," she replied.

"You're okay sharing a room with me here?"

"Yes. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Just making sure."

"I'm sure. Now let's go make some dinner."

"Sounds good."

"Did I mention there's a hot tub out on the deck?"

"No."

"We can use it later if you want."

"With or without Peter?"

"I was thinking after he went to sleep, but if you'd rather do it before."

"I like the sound of this plan."

"Good."

They played Monopoly after dinner. It was odd to have two of them to help her in the kitchen. Rene helped her at the apartment so they were kind of used to each other. Peter was a different story. She wondered how used to helping people with any housework he was.

"You know Nathan was healed, right." Rene asked later in the hot tub.

"Yes."

"Someone like you healed him."

"Okay."

"I'm wondering if giving Peter some of your blood would help."

"My blood?"

"Yes," he said.

"Why didn't anyone else suggest it?"

"I think they were hoping by being near you, that it would trigger his ability to try and gain yours."

"He already has it."

"He doesn't remember, though."

"You think not remembering could affect the ability working?"

"I can't explain it otherwise."

"I don't remember everything from before you stopped taking my memories."

"Have you tried?"

"Well, no," she admitted. She never had. "I just assumed they weren't there."

"Try it."

"Okay."

"Later," he said, drawing her onto his lap.

"Later, huh?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I'd much rather kiss you."

"I guess that's a good enough reason to put off trying."

"You guess?"

"Prove to me it is."

"Happily."

"I don't want to get up," she murmured against his chest.

"Then do not."

"I have to make breakfast."

"Peter is a grown man who can see to his own breakfast this morning."

"He is, but that's why I'm here. To take care of him."

"You are here to try and help him. Doing everything for him isn't the solution."

"You're right. They're being so generous, though, I almost feel like I have to."

"As they should be, taking you away from me for weeks."

"Serves you right! Now you know how I feel."

"Indeed."

"I'm glad you thought to bring protection with you."

"I may have overthought."

"How so?"

"Overcompensated for months of not needing any."

"Oh. Well, I'm up for making up for those months."

"As am I."

"But we still have to eat and I can't have Peter telling his mother that I stayed in bed with you the entire time you were here."

"Yes, yes, all right."

"Okay." She leaned up and kissed him. "I'm really glad you're here."

"Are you?"

"Yes!"

"Good."

"You like it here," he said when she came in from swimming in the lake. She didn't miss the look he gave her, and she was surprised at how much she liked him looking. He'd seen her naked plenty of times so the fact that he still got that look in his eye at the sight of her in a swimsuit was cool.

"Why do you say that?"

"I observe. You seem happy here. Happier than I've seen you in a long time."

"Well, I'm not sure I'd want to live like this forever, but yes I like it. The area is nice, being able to do stuff outdoors is a definitely bonus."

"And if you could live like this every day?"

"Well, I'd want to be a little closer to a city. Not a town. A city."

"That's your only complaint?"

"Yes," she said with a shrug. She finished toweling off and hung her suit up in the shower to dry. She joined him on the bed, discovering when he drew the covers back that he was more than ready for her.

"Why?" she asked as she grabbed a condom and slid it over his length. "You going to move to the sticks with me?"

"If it would make you happy, I would."

She slid over his length, pausing just a moment as she usually had to. And it had been a while so she definitely had to today.

"I just want to be wherever you are."

"You mean that?" he asked.

She gasped as she finished taking him inside of her.

"Yes," she murmured hoarsely.

"Even after being here with Peter?"

"Jealous much?" She laughed. "Yes, even after."

"Then I will make it happen. Somewhere similar but not quite so distant from the things you crave."

"What about what you want?"

"I already have it."

"You do?"

"Yes, right here. You."

"You meant what you said about adopting? If it's me, I mean. I know there are things we can try first. Surrogates and stuff, but if I'm defective."

"It's not a defect, but yes, I meant it."

She slid off of him, reaching between their bodies. She tugged at the condom a little.

"Claire."

"What?"

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

"I don't want you to go through that again."

"I want to. I mean. People miscarry and have stillbirths all the time. I'm not going to let one stop us from trying. And now that Peter is better, we'll be leaving soon."

"How soon?"

"Whenever he decides he's ready to go back home. There's no time table. I'm not even sure he's told anyone he remembers yet. He's still getting his bearings, I think."

"All right."

"So that leaves you."

"Me?"

"This isn't a one-night stand accident if I take this off and throw the rest away."

"Your father."

"I'm not asking about him. He's not here. And he's not us."

"I would love nothing more than to see you carrying my child once more. Hopefully to a better end this time around."

He reached for her hand, stopping her from removing the condom.

"You, however, need to finish school. I am not going anywhere, Claire, and if what I know about your ability holds true."

"Immortality?"

"Yes. It's unquestionably important that you have a formal education to survive."

"I know," she said, sliding her head to his chest.

"Look at me, Claire." She did, sliding herself onto him again.

"I love you. I love that you would do this for me and when we do try again I will wholeheartedly enjoy the task."

"The task, huh?"

He chuckled as he gripped her hips, bringing himself deeper into her.

"Until then, let's enjoy building a life together without doubt or uncertainty between us."

"I like the sound of that," she whispered.

"Me, too, Claire."

***Part Thirteen***
Word Count: 2,467

"I don't think I'll ever grow tired of that sound," Peter said, taking a seat on the chair next to hers. His drink of choice on this already hot morning was lemonade, probably spiked. Hers was iced tea, not spiked. Not even sweetened. She did put some lemon in it, though.

"Me neither," she smiled, as they watched the smallest ones play.

They sat in companionable silence as their great great grandchildren entertained their children. It was very odd for Claire still to this day to look in a mirror and appear no different than over one hundred years ago now. Peter appeared older, of course, because he was older when he'd gained Claire's ability.

"I'm glad they still like coming here."

"Me, too," Claire said.

Every summer everyone gathered here for most of the summer. Some stayed longer than others. Her only remaining daughter usually stayed well into the fall. She was widowed now and didn't seem to be in a hurry to have her time in her childhood home end before it absolutely had to. Claire loved those few weeks they had together just the two of them. Cherished them, knowing one day soon they'd end. Just like her days with Rene and her sons and daughter had.

"What are you two sitting out here talking about so quietly and away from everyone else?"

Claire rolled her eyes at Adam. She and Peter still weren't entirely sure they could trust him. Yet the three of them had built an odd life intertwined. Not necessarily together, though this home of Claire and Rene's was now the focal point of a compound where the three of them had their permanent homes. There were a few small, rather rudimentary cabins on the property to accommodate the ever-expanding amount of children. Long ago they had bought up the surrounding land so they'd have privacy and could do what they wanted with it. Peter had built his house first followed by Adam. The rest of the land remained wooded, remote, and private. Just the way they wanted it. No prying eyes. No one living next door, wondering why none of them looked any older year after year.

Here, Peter and Claire were able to see their families freely. As their spouses and their children had aged where Peter and Claire hadn't, it started getting odd to be out in public. Here they had everything they could need. A lake for swimming, boating, fishing, ice fishing, and snowmobiling. Vast amounts of land for children to play on, adults to hunt on. Years' worth of games, books, and toys were there for anyone to use.

"Nothing," Claire replied. "Just watching."

"Ah yes," he said, seeming to notice the littlest ones playing excitedly in the sandbox that had served them well for years now. "Evidence the Petrelli and Butler lines are continuing to propagate. But then, it's really just the Petrelli line, isn't it?"

Adam made no attempts over the years to hide his disdain for Claire and Peter's attempt at roots and normalcy. Real lives, cemented with family. Butler because while she and Rene had married she'd kept her name and given it to her children for their safety. If Rene was ever caught by The Company or one of its enemies he didn't want any obvious paper trail back to Claire and their family. Eventually, when his work was finished he'd legally changed his name so only their children and the two men sitting with her currently knew Rene had ever been anything but a Butler.

"Which are actually yours again? I find it so hard to keep track."

"Adam," Peter cautioned. He took Claire's hand and squeezed gently.

"They're all actually mine, Adam. I raised my children just the same as anyone else raises their children," Claire replied evenly.

The three of them knew that wasn't totally the case. There were direct, blood relations to her and Rene. They'd gone the surrogate route with one child, their oldest son, adopting three more. For whatever reason, Claire never got pregnant after Aimee. Their oldest son had three children who had nine children. Did Claire know who was who? Of course, but she didn't consider anyone any more or less hers and Rene's than the others. It just wasn't in them to care. Care enough to have one that was actually theirs, yes, but that was as far as it went. It was more important to Claire than it had been to him, wanting that ongoing, actual blood connection to him long after he had gone.

Peter, like Adam, could make children as Adam enjoyed needling her about sometimes. Not that he had children alive anymore. She wasn't even sure that he had any relatives left. He didn't seem to care really. Sometimes, though, despite his insensitive comments she saw something in his eyes that said he didn't think she and Peter were completely stupid to surround themselves with family. People who accepted them and their ability unconditionally and didn't treat them like freaks. A few of them had abilities of their own, but no one to this point had inherited Claire's. They never wanted anything from them. Oh sure, Claire and Peter had both used their blood to heal something faster than it would have on its own, but it wasn't something they did every day for a common scrape of the knee. A lacerated kidney from a football injury. A broken pelvis from a car accident. Adam had done it, too, when Claire or Peter weren't available right away and he happened to be. So, he cared in his own way. In a way, their families were the closest thing Adam had to one.

That didn't mean Trojan was going to be losing any business from Adam anytime soon. He'd made it abundantly clear that children just weren't for him. He enjoyed the making of them process, but not the rest of it. Not everyone was suited to be parents and at least he'd come to the conclusion a long time ago instead of populating the world for hundreds of years with young Adam and Eve's who he never saw again.

He kept coming here, too. He didn't have to come here during the summer when the families were congregating. From May to September it was a given that the property would be swarming with Petrelli's and Butler's. And somehow everyone always ended up at Claire's house and in her yard. Adam didn't have to come here, join in, share breakfast or dinner with them. Hers was by far the most kid-friendly house and yard, which was due to the fact that she continued to live here primarily where Adam and Peter came here to recuperate from their travels. Or to get away from a clingy woman who wanted more than either of them wanted to give.

"Tell me," Adam said, sitting on a third chair so Claire was seated in between the two men now.

"Yes?" she asked. He could have been talking to Peter, but Claire knew he wasn't.

"Do you regret it?"

"Regret what?" Claire asked.

"Building a life that would probably put a Rockwell painting to shame?"

"No."

"Marrying him?"

"No," she said.

"Even though you had to watch him die?"

"Even though."

"Why?"

"Adam, I can't explain it. Clearly, it's something I wanted that you don't or can't do. We had over sixty years together. I have no regrets or complaints. I have so many memories in this house primarily but we saw the world together. He made sure I got my education so I can provide for not just myself but anyone else I may need to over the years. I loved him. I get that you can't fathom that emotion beyond your odd feelings for Peter and me. I wouldn't trade any of this for the life you have."

"Did he feel the same?"

She shrugged. They'd had their share of disagreements as he'd aged and Claire hadn't. They'd been more rooted by the court of public opinion eyeing their relationship with suspicion. It was hard not to look at him (and her him) and wonder why things were so unfair that he had to age when she didn't.

"Yes, Adam. He couldn't have lived any other way either."

"One day you will not be so lucky, you know. And you were lucky. Trust me."

"One day?"

"You will try again someday. You'll want that closeness you had with him, and it will be good for a while. Maybe you'll find another man who understands your ability as he so clearly did and won't have a problem with the fact you won't age or die. If you end up with one who has cancer or something like that, though, it won't be so fun."

"No," she said. "I'm not going to live like a hermit nor am I going to go to the extremes you do to avoid binding me to people. I'm going to continue living as he and I wanted to live. I have no plans on getting involved with anyone else to that extent again. I won't deny it didn't hurt, crush me, and that a part of me did in fact feel as though it died when he died. He wouldn't want me to live with regret or dwell on it, though. So, I don't. I have so much to be thankful for and as long as our family continues to come here I'm happiest."

He took a sip of his drink, a whiskey sour no doubt. It was going to be a hot one so neither of them had chosen coffee or tea as their wake-up drink.

"I believe you. I don't understand it, but I believe you."

"Thank you."

Rene had mentioned more than once in their later years together that he wouldn't blame or fault her for eventually ending up with Adam, or Peter. She'd scoffed at that idea at first. Peter was a relative and that was just weird. She knew what he was getting at, though. She and Peter had their children and their families. Since Claire couldn't seem to have children, the relative thing didn't really matter. They loved one another, always had, there'd been an attraction there from the beginning and Rene knew it. Just how did someone approach that, though? She wasn't sure, and she was in no hurry to worry about it.

"Uncle Adam?"

"Yes, Master David?"

"Can you show me again that trick with the sword you showed me yesterday?"

"You're teaching him how to use swords?" Peter asked. He sounded a little concerned, which made Claire chuckle. Adam didn't really know how to act around the younger kids, so of course he taught them what he was comfortable with. And what boy didn't like to pretend to do battle like the ones Adam had engaged in centuries ago.

"They're toys, Peter, I assure you. It's just a bit of showmanship to impress the ladies."

"Right, because that will ever come in handy!"

Claire stifled a laugh. She had no doubt even today those old-fashioned qualities rooted in centuries-old traditions Adam possessed did in fact come in handy with women.

"You never know, Peter, what the world will bring. We've come a long way, but there's nothing to say it won't come to a screeching halt and things like fighting with swords and on horseback won't be in style again."

He set his drink down and stood.

"Duty calls, it seems. Are we eating here tonight?"

"Of course," Claire said. When didn't they? Very rarely. There were just too many of them to go out to eat, but sometimes groups would go out when the mood struck them. No one ever had to worry about babysitting around here.

"See you then."

"I'm not sure I like this idea," Peter said as they watched Adam and young David walk towards Adam's house.

"He really does have fake ones, Peter. He keeps the real ones locked up or on display, out of reach."

"That's something at least," Peter said. He squeezed her hand lightly.

Some of the older kids were in the lake now. It was so odd to watch each generation grow from small to having lives and children of their own. Sadly, Claire and Peter never got to meet boyfriends or girlfriends until deep into an engagement. No one ever lied about who they were, but too soon in a relationship and it could send someone packing. Or to the tabloids.

"Drinks at Stowaway tonight?"

"Sounds great. Are you telling Adam?"

"He can find his own girl to unwind with."

"Agreed," Claire said, not sure how to take Peter's wording. It was just a word, but not one he used with her often. If ever that she could recall.

He rested their hands against his knee. She made no effort to move hers or let go of his. She liked the connection they had.

"I was thinking of heading to Sydney for a while after everyone's left."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Something to do."

"Sure."

"There's lots to do there."

"I'm sure there is, Peter. You don't have to justify yourself to me."

"I wasn't."

"Okay then," she said, confused.

"I was wondering if maybe you'd come with."

"To Sydney?"

"Yes."

She glanced at him curiously.

"With you?"

"Yes, that's the general idea," he said with a laugh. "Is that a problem?"

"No, you just surprised me is all."

"Well?"

"Sure," she said.

"Great. I'll make all the arrangements then."

He stood then, winking at her once before heading inside with his and Adam's glass. He'd head home for a while. Even he seemed to grow tired of having everyone around after a while.

"What have you gotten yourself into?"

She wondered now what Peter and Rene had talked about over the years. Was there a reason her late husband had planted that seed in her mind?

She'd worry about that later. It was just a trip after all, they'd taken them together – even the three of them – over the years. It was nothing new.

For now, there were a couple of little girls begging her to build a sandcastle with them.

And while she'd denied it to Adam and would to anyone until she had no breath left (which obviously would never happen) – when one of her little girls, bound to her by the blood of her and Rene – asked her to do something she would move heaven and earth to give into their wishes.

Blood wasn't thicker than water; it was just an extra bonus, something to make her feel for a little while as if Rene was with her, watching her, enjoying her time with them as much as she was.

And she loved that feeling.

~The End~

Story ©Susan Falk/APCKRFAN/PhantomRoses.com