Letters to My Niece (11/13)
Title: Letters to My Niece (11/13)
Author: lit_chick08
Rating: NC-17 overall; PG-13 for this chapter because of language
Pairing: Paire, Claire/West, Peter/Elle, Claire/Adam Monroe
Word Count: 3881
Spoilers: Everything shown thus far, including Season 2. I’m picking and choosing what I like, so you could be potentially spoiled if you haven’t seen the latest episodes
Summary: Peter and Claire try to come to terms with how they feel about each other while the world threatens to end around them
A/N: This is a sequel to “Letters to My Uncle,” which can be found HERE. You might be confused if you try to read this one without reading the first one.
Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten
Dear Claire,
I trust too easily, too freely. Nathan told me this once after I had been left broken hearted by my first serious girlfriend, but I told him that there was nothing wrong with trusting people. I truly believed that trusting someone was the greatest gift to give someone.
I trusted my parents too implicitly despite all that they have done to wrong this family.
I trusted Elle despite the fact that I knew she had been specifically assigned to keep us apart, to murder you if you came close to me, to help the Company.
I trusted Nathan when he said that he wanted what was best for all of us without ever realizing that he was still our father’s son underneath it all, that he’d do what he decided to be best for him.
Please tell me that I wasn’t wrong to trust you. I couldn’t bear it if I was wrong.
Peter
* * *
“Uncle Claude, what are you - “
“We don’t have much time,” the bearded man snapped, cutting off Claire and hustling towards the back door in order to visually sweep the perimeter. “Arthur said that the Company has a bead on where you are. We need to get back to New York as quickly as possible.”
“What?” was all Claire could manage.
“I can’t go to New York,” Victoria said at the same time.
“Well, you can either come with me or you can die,” Claude retorted, removing a pistol from his coat. “There aren’t a lot of options available to us right now. I’ve got a car outside; we need to go.”
“I’m not leaving!” Victoria insisted.
Crossing the room quickly, grasping Claire’s wrist in his free hand, Claude gruffly stated, “I don’t give a flying fuck what you do. Best of luck trying not to die.”
Shaking off her prodigal uncle’s hand, Claire pleaded, “You have to come, Victoria. No one knows more about Shanti and Peter deserves the truth.”
“I can’t…I can’t get involved with this again!”
“You’re already involved! This is your chance! You said that you followed Adam because you wanted to save the world! Well, here’s your chance! Come back with us!”
“Claire, we don’t have time - “
“I have all the time in the goddamned world, so just shut up a second!” she exploded, startling both of the adults. “Victoria, it doesn’t have to be this way. If you come with me, we can stop this for once and for all. Come with us.”
Victoria looked at Claire for a long moment, sadness in her eyes, before shaking her head. “I know you can’t understand this, but it’s not my place. I wouldn’t do anything but upset and distract everyone.”
“No, you wouldn’t! Peter should know - “
“Peter can never know!” she interrupted vehemently. Crossing towards Claire, taking the younger girl’s hands in her own, Victoria cast a glance at Claude before lowering her voice to speak again. “Peter can never know what I told you. Angela saw what would happen and her visions are never wrong. If Peter knows that he’s not a Petrelli, that you and he could be…You both would die, Claire.”
“But we can’t die! That’s what I’m trying to tell you! Victoria - “
“Promise me that you won’t tell him. Swear to me!”
“Claire, we need to go,” Claude spoke up. “We’ll miss our flight.”
Frustration bubbling in her chest, desperation clutching at her, Claire lowered her voice almost to a whisper as she confessed to Victoria, “You don’t understand how much…They have to know!”
Reading what was unsaid, Victoria shook her head. “I’m sorry, but it’s better this way.”
Pushing her away, Claire exploded. “I’m so sick and tired of people telling me what’s best for me without ever asking what it is I want! You aren’t God anymore than Angela is! You don’t know! Nothing is set in stone!”
“Maybe not but some things will always be true, and as long as there’s a Company, you and Peter would never be safe!”
“So help us destroy it! Leave with us!”
“We’ve got to leave now!” Claude firmly stated.
Holding up the ticket to Port au Prince, Victoria said, “I’m going to Haiti, and nothing will change that. Please be safe.”
“Victoria!”
“Get her out of here!” the older woman shouted at Claude, crossing the living room and disappearing behind the bathroom door.
As Claire followed Claude out the door, placing her trust in the man she hadn’t seen since she was fourteen, she couldn’t help but both pity and hate Victoria Pratt in that moment.
All that Claire was sure of was that she needed to find out what Angela had seen all those years ago and why it would be a danger to she and Peter for them to ever be together.
* * *
Angela Petrelli didn’t allow herself to be afraid that often. Fear was a weakness that, if indulged, could lead to a breakdown of confidence, a breakdown that could cause a moment’s hesitation that could effectively ruin everything. Angela had learned long ago to as fearless as possible.
That being said, she was positively terrified at what Claire could learn from Victoria Pratt.
The decisions made in a time of war were always based upon the good of the collective over the good of the individual. Personal feelings and personal desires could never be brought into consideration; Arthur had taught her that and Daniel had reinforced it. Her inability to do just that had been the reason she had been kept out of so much in the Company’s beginning. She had barely understood her gift, understood what needed to be accomplished; she had believed in Adam’s vision and wanted a better world for Nathan. It wasn’t until after they had voted to lock Adam up and Angela was left alone that she knew she needed to start paying attention.
She had always known that Claire would come to be. From the time that Nathan was a toddler, she had dreamt of his daughter and been excited to know that she’d have a granddaughter one day. It seemed so silly now, the way she had planned events for the two of them to go to, the baby blanket she had purchased to give her one day; she had been so young then, so naïve.
The first time she had dreamt of Peter, it had been at his wedding. She had watched in her dream as Peter Pratt wed Claire Petrelli at a little chapel in Vegas, the only witnesses a handful of their friends. Peter was 28; Claire was 18. They had met when Peter, following a vision, had saved her from a threat in Brooklyn; they had fallen in love and eloped on her 18th birthday.
At first, Angela hadn’t worried. She had seen how much they loved each other, and, though Arthur would never approve, Angela trusted Victoria to raise her son correctly. And the more she dreamt, the more comfort she found in the fact that her granddaughter’s happiness wouldn’t be sacrificed on the altar of ambition the way that she had.
She saw their children - her great-grandchildren - and what beautiful children they were. Two girls and a boy, gifted in ways that Angela had never seen…They were more powerful than anyone in the Company’s employ, and that was the first hint of worse things to come. Angela dreamt of their brutal deaths: the fire that would claim the boy, the torture of the girls, the imprisonment of Peter, and the decapitation of her granddaughter. Their deaths were brutal and merciless, and the Company was to blame.
That which Angela had helped built would annihilate her family if she did not do something drastic. There had been no other choice to keep the family safe, to keep Claire and Peter alive. What she had done had been necessary.
It had taken so little to convince Victoria to go along with her plan. Victoria hadn’t wanted the pregnancy, had no idea what to do with an infant, and Angela had played upon those insecurities. When she had boarded the plane back to New York with an infant Peter in her arms, she had sworn then and there that she would guard him with all that she had. Victoria had made her promise that she would love Peter as if he was her own; Angela had done her one better. She had loved Peter better than she had loved her own, had built her hopes and dreams for the future upon him and the infinite kindness she knew he would possess.
The day that Claire was born, Meredith had called the house to let Nathan know, a message that Angela had never passed along. Instead, she flew to Texas to make the final payment to the bimbo that had given birth to the granddaughter she had dreamt of for so many years. As Meredith had counted each bill at the flimsy card table that served as the kitchen table, Angela had cradled Claire in her arms, gazed into her big eyes, and silently apologized for what she had taken from her. Already the dreams had started to change and Angela knew that, while Claire would live, she would never know the love the universe had meant for her to have. Claire would grow up without ever knowing what was meant to be, without ever being a Petrelli, and she would be all the better for it.
Her visions had taken a disturbing trend the night that Peter was arrested in Odessa. As the dreams came back, Angela began to question for the first time whether or not you could change fate. The details of their meeting may have changed - Brooklyn became Odessa, the threat had become Sylar, a Petrelli had become the hero instead of the victim - but they had still met that night, still became enamored with each other then. Their bond had formed so quickly and with such solidity that Angela wasn’t sure what she could do to possibly break them apart.
Her use of Elle had been stupid and desperate; she knew that now. Under the guise of needing information on Sylar, Angela had given her consent for Elle to fry Peter’s memory and then have the Haitian make him disappear. Angela had never counted on Bob demanding that he be found, and the fact that Peter’s first act after regaining his memory was to go to Claire spoke volumes. It was why she had hired Elle to keep them apart, to threaten to kill Claire if she stepped foot in New York.
Angela was no fool; whether or not they were uncle and niece, Peter and Claire were going to be together unless an act of God interceded.
It got easier to play God as time went on.
And now Arthur was alive and Adam was out…Everything was falling apart, the house of cards was falling down, and Angela wasn’t sure whether or not she even wanted to stop it. The Company had become something twisted, something so far from why they had all banded together; Charles, Kaito, Daniel…they were all dead now. Everyone died…except for Adam, who remembered every sin, every wrong, and Angela knew that he would kill her if he got the chance.
She wasn’t so sure that Arthur would stop him.
If Claire came back with the truth, if Arthur found out that Peter wasn’t his child, if she lost Peter…
This wasn’t what she had wanted when she gave up everything to marry Arthur Petrelli. But that woman had died too. She had died the day she had taken Peter Pratt out of his mother’s arms and tried to mess with destiny.
“Mom?”
Angela looked up from the photo she was holding to see Peter standing in the doorway bearing a tray of food. “Yes, dear?”
“You missed dinner. I brought you some.” Setting the tray beside her, he glanced at the picture she was holding.
She was barely eighteen then, as petite as Claire, and she was wearing the simple wedding gown she had used what little money she had to purchase, her hair in a French twist. Victoria, in a peasant skirt and top, her waist length red hair hanging loose, was hugging her.
“That’s Victoria Pratt,” Angela explained, seeing the question on his face. “She was my maid of honor when I got married.”
“She looks nice.”
“She had a big heart, which worked against her sometimes. Before this all happened, she was a medical researcher. I always envied her education, her intelligence.”
“Really?”
Angela smiled at the shock in his voice. “I do have human emotions, Peter.” Setting the picture face down, she amended, “Though I suppose it’s easy to forget sometimes.”
Peter was quiet for a moment before informing her, “Claire called her mother, who called Noah. She’s flying back from Washington. Apparently she met with Victoria. Sandra didn’t get any more details than that but they think - “
“I don’t think that Claire is betraying us,” she interrupted, pushing to her feet and crossing to the window. “She may have the stomach for many things but I doubt espionage is one of them.”
“Ma - “
“For all my feelings about her, I truly believe that Claire Bennet might just be the one person in this whole house that would be loyal under any circumstances.”
“But Adam - “
“She’s scared, Peter. She was tortured by Bishop, discovered that she’s likely immortal, and that she’s being targeted by Sylar. It’s a lot for a girl to take. I’m sure that if anyone understood that level of vulnerability, it’s Adam Monroe.” Brushing aside the curtain, keeping her back to her son, she added, “I wouldn’t give up on Claire Bennet. I have the feeling she just might surprise us all.”
* * *
Dear Claire,
I had the oddest dream last night. We were in Las Vegas with Hiro Nakamura, another Japanese man, and an African-American woman I’ve never met before, and we were all standing in one of those tacky Elvis chapels. You were wearing a pair of jeans and a lacy white tank top; a string of bright green Mardi Gras beads were around your neck and a blue garter was around your thigh atop your jeans.
I woke up before I could see where the dream would go but I can read between the lines.
Can you imagine?
Love always,
Peter
* * *
Adam Monroe was used to his past coming back to bite him on the ass. After several lifetimes as a philandering grafter and another as the mastermind of Primatech, Adam was used to people chasing him. An occupational hazard of being immortal was that his past could rear up at any moment.
However, his past usually did not charge at him, his own samurai sword embedding itself into his heart, with a vengeful cry of the Japanese man wielding it.
“Son of a bitch!” Adam cried as Hiro Nakamura, a man he had not seen in over 400 years, used the momentum of his charge to pin the Brit against the wall as the sword stuck into the wall.
“Jesus Christ, Hiro!” Matt exclaimed, wrapping a protective arm around Molly, who was watching the whole scene with wide eyes.
As everyone else moved around the room, talking loudly, Hiro spat in his native tongue, “Murderer! I will avenge my father!”
“Oh, come on,” he said with a roll of his eyes, kicking out his leg as Hiro got closer, trying to more deeply impale him.
“Hiro,” Ando began.
“You are a villain! I will not permit you to live!”
Pressing his hands against the wall behind him, Adam pushed, sliding his body up the blade until he was closer to Hiro. As the Japanese man glared, Adam swung, catching him in the side of the face with a solid punch that sent him tumbling backwards. Suitably distracted by the ringing in his ears, Adam jerked, dislodging the sword from the wall and pulling it from his body.
“You know, Carp, it’s just impolite to stab a man with his own sword.”
As Adam went to move, he realized that he was unable to; looking around, he found Peter entering the room, holding him in place with his telekinesis.
“I don’t think that you’re going anywhere just yet. We know what you did.”
“I’m 400-years-old. Might want to get a little more specific with that.”
“We know you’ve been killing Board Members,” Nathan filled in, “and we know that our father’s alive.” When Adam remained silent, Nathan asked, “You aren’t going to defend yourself?”
“From what, killing a bunch of murdering bastards who’ve been torturing people for 3 decades or hiding the existence of a man who has been a prisoner as much as I have? If you’re expecting some sort of grand apology, I can outwait you.”
“This isn’t a game, Monroe!” Noah snarled.
“True enough; games are fun. Look, I don’t want any trouble from you and yours. I’ve been trying to help, remember?”
“Yeah, while working against us!” Monica spoke up.
“I promised to help you take down the Company and help with Shanti; that’s what I did. If you think the people I killed weren’t threats, weren’t dangerous - “
“My father was a good man!”
“Your father was a bastard who used everyone around him and used his fortune to finance operations that created things like Shanti! I did the world a favor!”
“It wasn’t your call to do that!” Peter declared.
“So, what, you’re going to kill me? Good luck; enough men have tried. And if you’re not, you can just point me in Claire’s direction and I’ll be on my way.”
“You stay away from her,” Peter growled, inching closer to the older man.
“No can do, mate. Claire and I have an understanding.”
“You have nothing with her, not after today.” Using his power to send the samurai sword flying into Hiro’s hand, Peter instructed, “You’re going to leave this house, forget you ever met her, and stay far, far away from everyone here. You wanted your freedom? You have it. Go have a life or we’ll make sure you don’t.”
Adam laughed, loud and free. “You’re no killer, Peter.”
“I am,” Noah Bennet said, closing in on him. “And if you think for a minute that I won’t eliminate a threat to my daughter, you’ve hugely underestimated me.”
“And me,” Nathan chimed in, glaring at the blond man.
Adam was familiar with anger, well acquainted with rage, but what he felt towards Peter Petrelli in that moment was an emotion he hadn’t felt since his life as Takezo Kensei. He felt consumed with the desire to destroy this man, and Adam knew that he couldn’t do that physically; Claire cared too deeply for her uncle to ever forgive Adam for physically harming him. Of course, that didn’t mean he couldn’t hurt Peter.
“Oh, I’m the threat? Tell me then, boys, what do you call a man, a…family member…who has an unhealthy fixation on your girl? What would you do then?”
“Shut up,” Peter growled, his fists tightening, starting to inhibit the flow of oxygen to Adam’s lungs.
Wheezing out a laugh, Adam met Peter’s unwavering glare and continued, “What would you say about the uncle who only hates me because I’m fucking his niece and he’s not?”
It was like a bomb had gone off. A moment’s stunned silence passed before anyone realized that Peter had leapt at Adam, hitting him with all of the strength that Niki’s power allowed, and Adam felt released. He had been attacked and he was going to give as good as he got.
Adam was not a fool. He knew how much Peter affected Claire, and, while Adam didn’t judge them for their feelings - he had seen far worse things in life than 2 adults being attracted to each other, related or not - he resented the hell out of Peter for keeping Claire’s heart from him. As Peter struck him in the ribs, Adam began to return the blows, viciously striking him in the throat.
Peter was dimly aware that hands were grabbing at them in an attempt to pull them apart - Noah, Nathan, Matt, even Niki - but Peter was so consumed with fury that he knew he was going to kill Adam Monroe. It wasn’t out of defense for himself but for Claire. If anyone ever found out what had transpired in his apartment, it would be Claire who would have to live with that burden; Peter knew that he would be disowned and discarded, but Claire wouldn’t be. Claire would have to live with the knowledge that everyone looked at her differently, the freak that had desired her uncle.
As Peter felt Adam’s sternum crunch beneath his fists, he did become aware of something else: Claire’s voice.
“What the hell is going on?” Claire shouted as she joined the fray to separate them.
“Two bleeding fuck-ups trying to kill each other when they can’t,” a familiar accented voice quipped.
Peter looked away only for a moment to confirm that it was, indeed, Claude Raines standing there, and that was all it took for Adam to get out from under him, his wounds already healing. As the regenerator drew away, Peter caught a glimpse of Claire, disheveled and panting from exertion at separating them.
“What’s going on?” she repeated, looking around the room at the seemingly stunned occupants.
Noah, his eyes flicking between his daughter and Peter, retorted, “I think you should tell us. You have a lot of explaining to do, young lady.”
As Claire sighed and set down her bag, Claude sarcastically proclaimed, “Oh, how grateful I am to be back in the thick of this. Whaddya say, Noah? Want to shoot me later for old times sake?”
“Don’t tempt me,” the Company man gritted through his teeth.
Claire flicked her gaze back and forth between the two bloodied men she had shared her bed with and sighed. As everyone’s attention turned to her, she blurted out the first thing she could think of.
“Who wants to hear a funny story?”
* * *
Dear Claire,
I don’t know why, but I think that everything’s about to change.
Peter
Author: lit_chick08
Rating: NC-17 overall; PG-13 for this chapter because of language
Pairing: Paire, Claire/West, Peter/Elle, Claire/Adam Monroe
Word Count: 3881
Spoilers: Everything shown thus far, including Season 2. I’m picking and choosing what I like, so you could be potentially spoiled if you haven’t seen the latest episodes
Summary: Peter and Claire try to come to terms with how they feel about each other while the world threatens to end around them
A/N: This is a sequel to “Letters to My Uncle,” which can be found HERE. You might be confused if you try to read this one without reading the first one.
Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten
Dear Claire,
I trust too easily, too freely. Nathan told me this once after I had been left broken hearted by my first serious girlfriend, but I told him that there was nothing wrong with trusting people. I truly believed that trusting someone was the greatest gift to give someone.
I trusted my parents too implicitly despite all that they have done to wrong this family.
I trusted Elle despite the fact that I knew she had been specifically assigned to keep us apart, to murder you if you came close to me, to help the Company.
I trusted Nathan when he said that he wanted what was best for all of us without ever realizing that he was still our father’s son underneath it all, that he’d do what he decided to be best for him.
Please tell me that I wasn’t wrong to trust you. I couldn’t bear it if I was wrong.
Peter
* * *
“Uncle Claude, what are you - “
“We don’t have much time,” the bearded man snapped, cutting off Claire and hustling towards the back door in order to visually sweep the perimeter. “Arthur said that the Company has a bead on where you are. We need to get back to New York as quickly as possible.”
“What?” was all Claire could manage.
“I can’t go to New York,” Victoria said at the same time.
“Well, you can either come with me or you can die,” Claude retorted, removing a pistol from his coat. “There aren’t a lot of options available to us right now. I’ve got a car outside; we need to go.”
“I’m not leaving!” Victoria insisted.
Crossing the room quickly, grasping Claire’s wrist in his free hand, Claude gruffly stated, “I don’t give a flying fuck what you do. Best of luck trying not to die.”
Shaking off her prodigal uncle’s hand, Claire pleaded, “You have to come, Victoria. No one knows more about Shanti and Peter deserves the truth.”
“I can’t…I can’t get involved with this again!”
“You’re already involved! This is your chance! You said that you followed Adam because you wanted to save the world! Well, here’s your chance! Come back with us!”
“Claire, we don’t have time - “
“I have all the time in the goddamned world, so just shut up a second!” she exploded, startling both of the adults. “Victoria, it doesn’t have to be this way. If you come with me, we can stop this for once and for all. Come with us.”
Victoria looked at Claire for a long moment, sadness in her eyes, before shaking her head. “I know you can’t understand this, but it’s not my place. I wouldn’t do anything but upset and distract everyone.”
“No, you wouldn’t! Peter should know - “
“Peter can never know!” she interrupted vehemently. Crossing towards Claire, taking the younger girl’s hands in her own, Victoria cast a glance at Claude before lowering her voice to speak again. “Peter can never know what I told you. Angela saw what would happen and her visions are never wrong. If Peter knows that he’s not a Petrelli, that you and he could be…You both would die, Claire.”
“But we can’t die! That’s what I’m trying to tell you! Victoria - “
“Promise me that you won’t tell him. Swear to me!”
“Claire, we need to go,” Claude spoke up. “We’ll miss our flight.”
Frustration bubbling in her chest, desperation clutching at her, Claire lowered her voice almost to a whisper as she confessed to Victoria, “You don’t understand how much…They have to know!”
Reading what was unsaid, Victoria shook her head. “I’m sorry, but it’s better this way.”
Pushing her away, Claire exploded. “I’m so sick and tired of people telling me what’s best for me without ever asking what it is I want! You aren’t God anymore than Angela is! You don’t know! Nothing is set in stone!”
“Maybe not but some things will always be true, and as long as there’s a Company, you and Peter would never be safe!”
“So help us destroy it! Leave with us!”
“We’ve got to leave now!” Claude firmly stated.
Holding up the ticket to Port au Prince, Victoria said, “I’m going to Haiti, and nothing will change that. Please be safe.”
“Victoria!”
“Get her out of here!” the older woman shouted at Claude, crossing the living room and disappearing behind the bathroom door.
As Claire followed Claude out the door, placing her trust in the man she hadn’t seen since she was fourteen, she couldn’t help but both pity and hate Victoria Pratt in that moment.
All that Claire was sure of was that she needed to find out what Angela had seen all those years ago and why it would be a danger to she and Peter for them to ever be together.
* * *
Angela Petrelli didn’t allow herself to be afraid that often. Fear was a weakness that, if indulged, could lead to a breakdown of confidence, a breakdown that could cause a moment’s hesitation that could effectively ruin everything. Angela had learned long ago to as fearless as possible.
That being said, she was positively terrified at what Claire could learn from Victoria Pratt.
The decisions made in a time of war were always based upon the good of the collective over the good of the individual. Personal feelings and personal desires could never be brought into consideration; Arthur had taught her that and Daniel had reinforced it. Her inability to do just that had been the reason she had been kept out of so much in the Company’s beginning. She had barely understood her gift, understood what needed to be accomplished; she had believed in Adam’s vision and wanted a better world for Nathan. It wasn’t until after they had voted to lock Adam up and Angela was left alone that she knew she needed to start paying attention.
She had always known that Claire would come to be. From the time that Nathan was a toddler, she had dreamt of his daughter and been excited to know that she’d have a granddaughter one day. It seemed so silly now, the way she had planned events for the two of them to go to, the baby blanket she had purchased to give her one day; she had been so young then, so naïve.
The first time she had dreamt of Peter, it had been at his wedding. She had watched in her dream as Peter Pratt wed Claire Petrelli at a little chapel in Vegas, the only witnesses a handful of their friends. Peter was 28; Claire was 18. They had met when Peter, following a vision, had saved her from a threat in Brooklyn; they had fallen in love and eloped on her 18th birthday.
At first, Angela hadn’t worried. She had seen how much they loved each other, and, though Arthur would never approve, Angela trusted Victoria to raise her son correctly. And the more she dreamt, the more comfort she found in the fact that her granddaughter’s happiness wouldn’t be sacrificed on the altar of ambition the way that she had.
She saw their children - her great-grandchildren - and what beautiful children they were. Two girls and a boy, gifted in ways that Angela had never seen…They were more powerful than anyone in the Company’s employ, and that was the first hint of worse things to come. Angela dreamt of their brutal deaths: the fire that would claim the boy, the torture of the girls, the imprisonment of Peter, and the decapitation of her granddaughter. Their deaths were brutal and merciless, and the Company was to blame.
That which Angela had helped built would annihilate her family if she did not do something drastic. There had been no other choice to keep the family safe, to keep Claire and Peter alive. What she had done had been necessary.
It had taken so little to convince Victoria to go along with her plan. Victoria hadn’t wanted the pregnancy, had no idea what to do with an infant, and Angela had played upon those insecurities. When she had boarded the plane back to New York with an infant Peter in her arms, she had sworn then and there that she would guard him with all that she had. Victoria had made her promise that she would love Peter as if he was her own; Angela had done her one better. She had loved Peter better than she had loved her own, had built her hopes and dreams for the future upon him and the infinite kindness she knew he would possess.
The day that Claire was born, Meredith had called the house to let Nathan know, a message that Angela had never passed along. Instead, she flew to Texas to make the final payment to the bimbo that had given birth to the granddaughter she had dreamt of for so many years. As Meredith had counted each bill at the flimsy card table that served as the kitchen table, Angela had cradled Claire in her arms, gazed into her big eyes, and silently apologized for what she had taken from her. Already the dreams had started to change and Angela knew that, while Claire would live, she would never know the love the universe had meant for her to have. Claire would grow up without ever knowing what was meant to be, without ever being a Petrelli, and she would be all the better for it.
Her visions had taken a disturbing trend the night that Peter was arrested in Odessa. As the dreams came back, Angela began to question for the first time whether or not you could change fate. The details of their meeting may have changed - Brooklyn became Odessa, the threat had become Sylar, a Petrelli had become the hero instead of the victim - but they had still met that night, still became enamored with each other then. Their bond had formed so quickly and with such solidity that Angela wasn’t sure what she could do to possibly break them apart.
Her use of Elle had been stupid and desperate; she knew that now. Under the guise of needing information on Sylar, Angela had given her consent for Elle to fry Peter’s memory and then have the Haitian make him disappear. Angela had never counted on Bob demanding that he be found, and the fact that Peter’s first act after regaining his memory was to go to Claire spoke volumes. It was why she had hired Elle to keep them apart, to threaten to kill Claire if she stepped foot in New York.
Angela was no fool; whether or not they were uncle and niece, Peter and Claire were going to be together unless an act of God interceded.
It got easier to play God as time went on.
And now Arthur was alive and Adam was out…Everything was falling apart, the house of cards was falling down, and Angela wasn’t sure whether or not she even wanted to stop it. The Company had become something twisted, something so far from why they had all banded together; Charles, Kaito, Daniel…they were all dead now. Everyone died…except for Adam, who remembered every sin, every wrong, and Angela knew that he would kill her if he got the chance.
She wasn’t so sure that Arthur would stop him.
If Claire came back with the truth, if Arthur found out that Peter wasn’t his child, if she lost Peter…
This wasn’t what she had wanted when she gave up everything to marry Arthur Petrelli. But that woman had died too. She had died the day she had taken Peter Pratt out of his mother’s arms and tried to mess with destiny.
“Mom?”
Angela looked up from the photo she was holding to see Peter standing in the doorway bearing a tray of food. “Yes, dear?”
“You missed dinner. I brought you some.” Setting the tray beside her, he glanced at the picture she was holding.
She was barely eighteen then, as petite as Claire, and she was wearing the simple wedding gown she had used what little money she had to purchase, her hair in a French twist. Victoria, in a peasant skirt and top, her waist length red hair hanging loose, was hugging her.
“That’s Victoria Pratt,” Angela explained, seeing the question on his face. “She was my maid of honor when I got married.”
“She looks nice.”
“She had a big heart, which worked against her sometimes. Before this all happened, she was a medical researcher. I always envied her education, her intelligence.”
“Really?”
Angela smiled at the shock in his voice. “I do have human emotions, Peter.” Setting the picture face down, she amended, “Though I suppose it’s easy to forget sometimes.”
Peter was quiet for a moment before informing her, “Claire called her mother, who called Noah. She’s flying back from Washington. Apparently she met with Victoria. Sandra didn’t get any more details than that but they think - “
“I don’t think that Claire is betraying us,” she interrupted, pushing to her feet and crossing to the window. “She may have the stomach for many things but I doubt espionage is one of them.”
“Ma - “
“For all my feelings about her, I truly believe that Claire Bennet might just be the one person in this whole house that would be loyal under any circumstances.”
“But Adam - “
“She’s scared, Peter. She was tortured by Bishop, discovered that she’s likely immortal, and that she’s being targeted by Sylar. It’s a lot for a girl to take. I’m sure that if anyone understood that level of vulnerability, it’s Adam Monroe.” Brushing aside the curtain, keeping her back to her son, she added, “I wouldn’t give up on Claire Bennet. I have the feeling she just might surprise us all.”
* * *
Dear Claire,
I had the oddest dream last night. We were in Las Vegas with Hiro Nakamura, another Japanese man, and an African-American woman I’ve never met before, and we were all standing in one of those tacky Elvis chapels. You were wearing a pair of jeans and a lacy white tank top; a string of bright green Mardi Gras beads were around your neck and a blue garter was around your thigh atop your jeans.
I woke up before I could see where the dream would go but I can read between the lines.
Can you imagine?
Love always,
Peter
* * *
Adam Monroe was used to his past coming back to bite him on the ass. After several lifetimes as a philandering grafter and another as the mastermind of Primatech, Adam was used to people chasing him. An occupational hazard of being immortal was that his past could rear up at any moment.
However, his past usually did not charge at him, his own samurai sword embedding itself into his heart, with a vengeful cry of the Japanese man wielding it.
“Son of a bitch!” Adam cried as Hiro Nakamura, a man he had not seen in over 400 years, used the momentum of his charge to pin the Brit against the wall as the sword stuck into the wall.
“Jesus Christ, Hiro!” Matt exclaimed, wrapping a protective arm around Molly, who was watching the whole scene with wide eyes.
As everyone else moved around the room, talking loudly, Hiro spat in his native tongue, “Murderer! I will avenge my father!”
“Oh, come on,” he said with a roll of his eyes, kicking out his leg as Hiro got closer, trying to more deeply impale him.
“Hiro,” Ando began.
“You are a villain! I will not permit you to live!”
Pressing his hands against the wall behind him, Adam pushed, sliding his body up the blade until he was closer to Hiro. As the Japanese man glared, Adam swung, catching him in the side of the face with a solid punch that sent him tumbling backwards. Suitably distracted by the ringing in his ears, Adam jerked, dislodging the sword from the wall and pulling it from his body.
“You know, Carp, it’s just impolite to stab a man with his own sword.”
As Adam went to move, he realized that he was unable to; looking around, he found Peter entering the room, holding him in place with his telekinesis.
“I don’t think that you’re going anywhere just yet. We know what you did.”
“I’m 400-years-old. Might want to get a little more specific with that.”
“We know you’ve been killing Board Members,” Nathan filled in, “and we know that our father’s alive.” When Adam remained silent, Nathan asked, “You aren’t going to defend yourself?”
“From what, killing a bunch of murdering bastards who’ve been torturing people for 3 decades or hiding the existence of a man who has been a prisoner as much as I have? If you’re expecting some sort of grand apology, I can outwait you.”
“This isn’t a game, Monroe!” Noah snarled.
“True enough; games are fun. Look, I don’t want any trouble from you and yours. I’ve been trying to help, remember?”
“Yeah, while working against us!” Monica spoke up.
“I promised to help you take down the Company and help with Shanti; that’s what I did. If you think the people I killed weren’t threats, weren’t dangerous - “
“My father was a good man!”
“Your father was a bastard who used everyone around him and used his fortune to finance operations that created things like Shanti! I did the world a favor!”
“It wasn’t your call to do that!” Peter declared.
“So, what, you’re going to kill me? Good luck; enough men have tried. And if you’re not, you can just point me in Claire’s direction and I’ll be on my way.”
“You stay away from her,” Peter growled, inching closer to the older man.
“No can do, mate. Claire and I have an understanding.”
“You have nothing with her, not after today.” Using his power to send the samurai sword flying into Hiro’s hand, Peter instructed, “You’re going to leave this house, forget you ever met her, and stay far, far away from everyone here. You wanted your freedom? You have it. Go have a life or we’ll make sure you don’t.”
Adam laughed, loud and free. “You’re no killer, Peter.”
“I am,” Noah Bennet said, closing in on him. “And if you think for a minute that I won’t eliminate a threat to my daughter, you’ve hugely underestimated me.”
“And me,” Nathan chimed in, glaring at the blond man.
Adam was familiar with anger, well acquainted with rage, but what he felt towards Peter Petrelli in that moment was an emotion he hadn’t felt since his life as Takezo Kensei. He felt consumed with the desire to destroy this man, and Adam knew that he couldn’t do that physically; Claire cared too deeply for her uncle to ever forgive Adam for physically harming him. Of course, that didn’t mean he couldn’t hurt Peter.
“Oh, I’m the threat? Tell me then, boys, what do you call a man, a…family member…who has an unhealthy fixation on your girl? What would you do then?”
“Shut up,” Peter growled, his fists tightening, starting to inhibit the flow of oxygen to Adam’s lungs.
Wheezing out a laugh, Adam met Peter’s unwavering glare and continued, “What would you say about the uncle who only hates me because I’m fucking his niece and he’s not?”
It was like a bomb had gone off. A moment’s stunned silence passed before anyone realized that Peter had leapt at Adam, hitting him with all of the strength that Niki’s power allowed, and Adam felt released. He had been attacked and he was going to give as good as he got.
Adam was not a fool. He knew how much Peter affected Claire, and, while Adam didn’t judge them for their feelings - he had seen far worse things in life than 2 adults being attracted to each other, related or not - he resented the hell out of Peter for keeping Claire’s heart from him. As Peter struck him in the ribs, Adam began to return the blows, viciously striking him in the throat.
Peter was dimly aware that hands were grabbing at them in an attempt to pull them apart - Noah, Nathan, Matt, even Niki - but Peter was so consumed with fury that he knew he was going to kill Adam Monroe. It wasn’t out of defense for himself but for Claire. If anyone ever found out what had transpired in his apartment, it would be Claire who would have to live with that burden; Peter knew that he would be disowned and discarded, but Claire wouldn’t be. Claire would have to live with the knowledge that everyone looked at her differently, the freak that had desired her uncle.
As Peter felt Adam’s sternum crunch beneath his fists, he did become aware of something else: Claire’s voice.
“What the hell is going on?” Claire shouted as she joined the fray to separate them.
“Two bleeding fuck-ups trying to kill each other when they can’t,” a familiar accented voice quipped.
Peter looked away only for a moment to confirm that it was, indeed, Claude Raines standing there, and that was all it took for Adam to get out from under him, his wounds already healing. As the regenerator drew away, Peter caught a glimpse of Claire, disheveled and panting from exertion at separating them.
“What’s going on?” she repeated, looking around the room at the seemingly stunned occupants.
Noah, his eyes flicking between his daughter and Peter, retorted, “I think you should tell us. You have a lot of explaining to do, young lady.”
As Claire sighed and set down her bag, Claude sarcastically proclaimed, “Oh, how grateful I am to be back in the thick of this. Whaddya say, Noah? Want to shoot me later for old times sake?”
“Don’t tempt me,” the Company man gritted through his teeth.
Claire flicked her gaze back and forth between the two bloodied men she had shared her bed with and sighed. As everyone’s attention turned to her, she blurted out the first thing she could think of.
“Who wants to hear a funny story?”
* * *
Dear Claire,
I don’t know why, but I think that everything’s about to change.
Peter