Heroes Fan Fiction ❯ Girl in the Painting ❯ Chapter Three ( Chapter 3 )

AN: Spoilers for Episode 01x14, "Distractions" and then it goes AU from there. Warning for some underage themes in the

 

Girl in the Painting

 

Chapter Three

 

He never dreamed of anything like this.

 

Soft, golden tresses swept across his face. He heard an echoing giggle and felt feather-light kisses trail down his chest. The soft, alluring scent of a young woman filtered into his nose, warming his blood. She hovered above him, looking at him with mischievous eyes.

 

“Don't tell my dad, okay?”

 

--

 

Isaac woke up with a start. Eyes wide, he frantically looked around his empty studio as the dream melted away from his mind. His body was moist from sweat, and he licked his chapped morning lips.

 

Rubbing his eyes, he looked to the door as he heard someone begin to turn the lock. As he rose from his futon, Simone had let herself inside.

 

“Good morning,” she said, eyeing him hard. “Sleep well?” She was carrying her large steel briefcase, ready to pick up more of his paintings.

 

“No, I slept terribly,” Isaac answered as-a-matter-of-factly. The vision of the underage blonde from his dream flashed in front of his mind. He shuddered, feeling somewhat dirty yet allured by the forbidden carnal moment.

 

“Were you up painting all last night?” Simone asked with sympathy. She noticed his attention was elsewhere, and she cocked her head at him. “You shouldn't work so hard, Isaac.”

 

Isaac shook his head. “It's not that. Now that I can use my powers at will, the information has been overwhelming.”

 

Simone nodded. “Is there anyway you can regulate it? Tone it down?”

 

Isaac rubbed his chin. “I don't think I can, Simone. I feel I have to help, and if it comes to me, whether slowly or at full force, I have to take it. I can't just ignore things, not if they're going to help us figure out more clues about the bomb.”

 

Simone didn't say anything, and Isaac noticed she got a faraway look in her eyes. He bit his lip. She was probably thinking of Peter again. He saw her glance at his paintings, propped up against easels and stools. One painting caught her attention.

 

“Is that Peter?” Simone asked, rushing to the painting. Isaac felt his heart tighten. It was obvious that she was very much in love with Peter, even though he was still missing.

 

Isaac turned away from her expression and looked at the painting. He sighed. “Yeah, that's him. He's still in New York somewhere. It looks like he's partially invisible.”

 

“Invisible?” Simone asked curiously. She looked at Isaac for answers, and he bit on a fingernail, looking away.

 

“Yeah, I think he might have met someone with invisible powers, but I'm not sure.”

 

Simone looked relieved. She smiled jubilantly. “Good. That mean he's still in the city. We can still find him.”

 

--

 

Meredith had hailed a cab for Claire to drive to Isaac's address. She had given Claire plenty of money for fare and food, and she reluctantly declined accompanying her to Isaac's studio.

 

“I better keep unpacking,” she said, almost nervously, and then she kindly shoved Claire on her way out of the apartment. Claire frowned, feeling like there was much more to her mother than she saw on the surface, and the way she sometimes acted indicated she was hiding things.

 

She pouted for a moment in the cab, and then she turned her attention to the scenery out the window. She was thankful her cabbie wasn't chatty, enjoying the New York scenery as it passed by. It was an industrial paradise, unfeeling and busy on the surface, but glimmering with ghostly embers in the shadows.

 

Her mind wandered. Her father had grown up here, and yet like this city, she knew nothing about him. He seemed cold as well, simmering with feelings he was not taught to express. Peter was from New York too, yet he seemed so different. He still felt like New York - the kind of New York that visitors dreamed it to be. He was otherworldly, offering people hope.

 

She only wondered what part of New York this Isaac person was going to represent. She wondered if he was going to tolerate her at all. Claire sighed, feeling even more alone than ever before.

 

It seemed all the people she had met on her quest to find her real parents really didn't want her at all.

 

She sniffled, holding back the tears as the cab came to a stop.

 

“This is the place,” the cabbie said, just as unfeeling and stiff as the gray New York air. He told her a ridiculous fare, and she paid it, just happy to get out of the suffocating car.

 

When Claire looked up at the building in front of her, she realized that Isaac lived on one of the higher floors. Making her way into the building, she walked up the stairs, coming to the front of his door. The studio seemed very open, most likely for lighting and ventilation. She looked inside curiously, and before she knocked, she heard two people arguing.

 

“Damn it, Simone! Why don't you listen to me? I told you how I feel about you, and you say you feel nothing?”

 

“And I told you Isaac, we're done and we can't go back. You know I'm with Peter now, and it's not going to change.”

 

“Peter is dangerous! He's absorbed so much power he's going to explode. And when we find him, we have to stop him. He'll destroy the whole city and kill millions!”

 

Claire's eyes widened and she felt her heart skip a beat. Could it be a coincidence that they're talking about the same Peter…? No! It couldn't be… New York was a big town with millions of men named Peter.

 

But she wondered just how many of them could absorb power? She continued to listen to their conversation; sure they hadn't realized her presence yet.

 

“Look, Isaac. I appreciate that you're trying to find Peter, but if you or anyone harms him, you'll have to deal with me.” Simone's voice was hard as steel. “I know we can save him.”

 

Isaac shook his head, and he started laughing uncontrollably. “Oh yes, poor sainted Peter Petrelli… he would never do anything wrong. He's perfect.” Isaac's mocking voice changed to a hiss. “I don't care how wonderful he is or how much you love him, but look at what these paintings are telling us! He's dangerous! Not only to himself but to millions of innocent people. When are you going to realize that?”

 

By this time, Claire had flung the door open without knocking, and she looked at the couple frantically. She panted in anxiety, and she looked at Isaac desperately. “Please, you can't hurt Peter! He saved my life!”

 

Isaac and Simone gawked at her, and then she flushed in embarrassment. Isaac shook his head and smirked.

 

“Well, well, you must be Claire Bennet.”

 

Simone looked back at Isaac and then back to Claire. She appeared confused, yet she was strangely interested in this girl who knew Peter. She cocked her head and gave Claire a scrutinizing look. Isaac noticed Simone's curiosity and raised an eye brow.

 

“Simone, I guess you haven't met Claire yet,” Isaac announced, enjoying this new turn of events a little too much. “Remember the girl Peter dropped everything in his life to go save?” Isaac paused and saw Simone's jaw gape and then close, as she tried to keep her cool disposition. Isaac's tone was lighthearted. “Meet the cheerleader who will save the world.”

 

Simone's eyes widened, and she was too frozen to speak. Isaac then added, “She's also my new assistant.”

 

Claire did the only thing a polite, young southern girl would do in this situation. She smiled prettily at Simone and said, “Uh.. It's nice to meet you... both of you.”

 

--

 

“So… Peter is missing?” Claire asked. It had been almost twenty minutes since Simone left, and the atmosphere in Isaac's studio was considerably lighter. In fact, upon first meeting Isaac, Claire immediately felt comfortable around him - as if she'd known him all her life. She didn't feel that way so much with Simone.

 

Sure, the woman was cordial to her, but Claire could tell on her face Simone didn't know what to make of her. Claire really didn't know what was going on in Simone's head, and she thought she was nice enough, but judging from Isaac's behavior in the situation, more was going on between these people than she realized.

 

“Yeah,” Isaac said. “I guess Nathan hasn't told you yet.”

 

Claire looked at him curiously. He was pulling his loose hair back into a ratty bandana. “Why would my bio-dad know anything about Peter?”

 

Isaac looked at her, “Bio-dad?” He saw Claire blush and then roll her eyes. Curiously, he eyed her. “Claire, do you know anything about your `bio-dad'?”

 

She sighed. “Well… not much, and Meredith hasn't told me much either. The only thing is that he wanted me to come here to New York so I could learn more about my powers. He also wanted my close by, it seemed. Meredith said he's in an election race right now so he's trying to hide us as well as keep us near. I don't really understand it, but…” She shrugged her shoulders, and then her expression turned sad. “It's just odd. My whole life is odd.” Isaac was silent as she continued. She said in a soft voice, “My other family isn't that much different. By now I should be used to all the secrets people keep from me.”

 

Isaac frowned, feeling somewhat guilty. He was definitely keeping a lot of secrets from Claire as well.

 

“I'm sorry,” she finally said, and he continued to stare at her. He took down her features and was entranced by finally meeting her after all the paintings he did. “We just met, and I'm rambling about my crazy life.”

 

“Don't be sorry,” Isaac said, turning away and digging into his freezer. He pulled out a bottle. “It's the reason Nathan wanted you to come here anyway.”

 

“So what does Nathan have to do with Peter?” Claire asked, and her eyes followed Isaac's movements as he poured himself a glass of tomato juice.

 

He took a sip and stared at her intensely, anxious for her reaction. “Nathan and Peter are brothers.”

 

Claire's eyes widened, and the gum she was chewing almost popped out of her mouth. She brought up her hands to cover the shock. “No… that can't be.”

 

Isaac sighed, realizing the poor girl had some kind of hero worship for Peter. The look on her face indicated that she might be sick. He asked her, “Do you want some water, Claire?”

 

She nodded, staring intensely at a chipped spot on his counter. Her brain felt jumbled, and her stomach knotted, ready to retch. She took a sip of water, and her face contorted in horror.

 

`Oh, God, all those nights I was lonely and I thought about him…' She stopped herself before she could think any further. This was some cruel, twisted joke, wasn't it? And as soon as she downed her last gulp of water, her fairytale prince on a white horse fizzled out of existence and was replaced by a slimy, crotchety old uncle who just wanted a little kiss.

 

“Gah!” Claire screamed aloud, startling Isaac. He almost choked as he took a drink, watching her worriedly.

 

“Are you going to be okay?”

 

“Uh… yeah… sorry,” she said. “It's been a rough morning.” She shook her head, and flashed him a youthful smile. “So, what am I going to be doing at this job anyway?”

 

Isaac still looked bewildered and then realized she was trying to change the subject. If only he knew she wanted to deter from her strange thoughts and start working like a dog.

 

“Um… well, it's not the most glamorous of jobs. How much do you know about art and art media?”

 

“Uh… well, let's see … my one and only art class was in fifth grade, and the teacher said my self-portrait looked like Gumby had a baby with Richard Nixon. Does that give you any clue?”

 

Isaac snickered. “Well, then, I guess for today, I'm going to give you a little art lesson.” He gave her a warm smile that immediately took Claire off guard, and she couldn't help but take in his features. He was quite a good looking man - for an older man anyway. Claire mentally kicked herself, and she continued to listen to him.

 

“I'd advise not wearing anything you don't want paint on. I have a few smocks in the back. I'll grab you one for today just in case,” Isaac informed her, and Claire followed him as he moved to the closet full of shirts and smocks. Strong fumes from the paint and media filled her nostrils, and her head began to feel light. It was definitely a smell she'd have to get used to.

 

Walking by, she stopped as Isaac went ahead and rummaged around his closet. She looked around at his paintings and noticed something familiar.

 

It was her - and she was in her cheerleading outfit.

 

“Hey…it's me,” she said softly, and Isaac turned around. He caught a glimpse of her awed expression, and he scratched his head nervously.

 

“Yeah… I painted this a long time ago, before Peter went to save you.”

 

Claire nodded. “So this… this is how he knew to save me?” She saw the largest picture of her face, hand outstretched in a gesture of panic. She looked to her right, searching for more, and her gaze caught a painting of Peter. He was flying. She felt tears well up in her eyes, and she longed to trace her finger over his image. She kept her hand back, hesitating and not wanting to mar any of Isaac's paintings.

 

`He saved me, and he's family. He probably didn't know then, but he saved me anyway. I was a stranger.' She turned her gaze to the ground and longed to see Peter again, wondering why he disappeared.

 

Isaac watched her silently as she drew in the imagery. He couldn't have guessed what she was thinking, but he knew the painting of Peter disturbed her. He followed her gaze, and then saw the horrified look on her face as she stared at the floor.

 

“Oh…oh my God!” she exclaimed, and she looked frantically back at Isaac. “Is this…?”

 

Isaac came over to her, looking at the explosion he painted on the ground. “Yes… this is the explosion that's going to happen. This is what we've been working to prevent.”

 

“We?”

 

“People like you and me, Claire. People with gifts.” He looked around to all his paintings, and then he sighed. “All of these people are connected. We're connected by our powers, and we're connected by this event. We thought you were the centralized person in this event. Peter said someone from the future told him to save you, to save the world. I believed him, then, and I helped him find you.” Isaac turned to her with a serious expression. “We thought by saving you, we could prevent the explosion, but that's not true anymore.”

 

“What…what do you mean?”

 

Isaac gave her a sympathetic look. He knew the girl had close feelings toward Peter. “Since then I've been painting a lot. I never used to paint without drugs, but I learned how to, and now I haven't been able to stop.” He paused, and Claire was stunned. There was just too much information for her to soak in. “Claire, I painted an exploding man … the cause of the destruction of the city. I believe the man who explodes is Peter.”

 

She felt a hitch in her throat, and then her eyes feel heavy. The last thing she heard was Isaac calling out to her as she fell into darkness.

 

--

 

Peter stood outside the window, and he watched in awe as Isaac put a cold rag over Claire's head. When he came here for any new paintings, he did not expect the cheerleader he saved to be in Isaac's studio.

 

`What was she doing here?' he asked himself, and jealousy and confusion simmered in his blood. Claude was laughing by his side, and he even made an off-color comment that the artist was stealing all of Peter's women.

 

As Claude fed the pigeons on Isaac's rooftop, he let Peter mope about on the side. Peter knew that Claude could care less if Peter took his breaks from training to brood about his problems. He usually made comments to bring Peter out of his depression, hoping he would gain some sense. Although, this time, Claude was giving Peter a small berth, and he graciously kept quiet about `his' cheerleader now lying on Isaac's couch.

 

Suddenly, Peter looked up at the rooftop, and Claude was gazing over the side at the city skyline. As long as he was close, Peter stayed invisible, and he decided to slip into Isaac's studio to check on Claire.

 

Peter could hear running water in the back of Isaac's studio, and he presumed Isaac was cleaning his brushes. He looked down at Claire, sleeping on the couch, and her normal healthy tanned skin was sallow and pale. `What happened to her?'

 

He studied her face, and she was sleeping peacefully. He watched as she breathed, and he took pride in being the hero who helped preserve her life. And the longer he watched her, the more he wanted to become visible and talk to her.

 

Peter heard a beep to his side, and on Isaac's end table, a pink phone buzzed with a message. He was sure Isaac wasn't into pink, so it must have been Claire's. Picking up the phone, he scrolled through the settings menu and found her number.

 

He memorized it, and as he heard Isaac's footsteps coming toward the room, he put the phone down and dashed back out the window. Claude peered down at him as he heard the window close. He gave him a strange look and then shook his head.

 

“Come on then,” he said, motioning for Peter to come up to the roof and join him. “Let's work on bringing out some more powers.”

 

“How about mind reading powers of that cop?” Peter suggested quickly, and Claude raised an eyebrow at him. Hesitantly, he nodded, and then he nagged at him to concentrate. Peter would work extra hard this time.

 

His thoughts looped back to Isaac and Claire. He would've given anything in the world right now to just hear their thoughts.