Heroes Fan Fiction ❯ Girl in the Painting ❯ Chapter Four ( Chapter 4 )

AN: Well, for the likely chance that they're going to kill off Isaac in the show, I'm just reminding everyone that this story is an AU from “Distractions”. You don't need to remind me a character has died; I watch the show too. ^^; Thanks to everyone who has given me support on this project and I'll try to bring in quicker updates!

 

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Girl in the Painting

 

Chapter Four

 

Claire opened her eyes as the buzz on her cell phone woke her up. Blinking several times, she realized she was still in Isaac's studio, and there was a weight from a cold cloth over her forehead. Automatically, she reached for her phone and clicked the receiver.

 

“Hello?” she droned, and she heard sighing on the other end.

 

“Claire, honey, are you still at work?” It was Meredith, and she sounded concerned.

 

“Oh, mom, hi…Yes, I'm still here,” Claire groaned, which got an immediate response from Meredith.

 

“Are you alright? You sound out of it.”

 

“Oh, no, I'm fine. I was just … zoning out a bit. I'm not quite used to the paint fumes,” Claire responded, and she saw that Isaac had come back into the room on the corner of her eye.

 

“Well, I was just wondering when you'd be coming home. I'm mostly unpacked, and I'd like to take us out for dinner. I know this great Sushi place,” Meredith babbled happily, and Claire resisted rolling her eyes.

 

`No doubt take us out with Nathan's money,' Claire inwardly mused, and she reminded herself to give Meredith a break. She was trying…

 

“Oh, sounds great!” Claire said with excitement. She looked at the clock in Isaac's studio. “I'll be home in a couple of hours.”

 

“Okay, sweetie, see you then!” And her mother said a cheery goodbye and hung up. Claire looked over at Isaac apologetically.

 

“I am sooo sorry I passed out like that,” Claire said, swallowing nervously. “It's never happened before.”

 

Isaac wiped a towel over his freshly clean hands and continued to eye her worriedly. He shook his head and smiled. “Don't worry about it. I'm… sorry you had to learn about the bomb in that way… and about Peter.”

 

The color in Claire's face paled, and she looked away from Isaac's inquiring eyes. Her stomach still knotted at the thought of Peter being her uncle, as well as a ticking time bomb.

 

She inhaled a draught of breath and said resolutely, “It's okay. Maybe… maybe we can help him.” She turned to Isaac who seemed shocked by her determination. “There must be a way to save him.”

 

Isaac bit his lip nervously, reminded of Simone's own faith in Peter. He wondered too that maybe he should have thought differently of Peter, perhaps helped him and not got involved with the likes of Mr. Bennet. Doubt and uncertainty gnawed at his conscience, and he shifted his gaze away from Claire.

 

“Uh… I hope there is. I wish there was something I can do, and I'm working with Nathan to paint clues on how to find him,” Isaac revealed. He knew that Nathan wanted to keep things pretty secret, but he knew that one of the main reasons Claire was here was to teach her about using her powers. He didn't know how to portray the issue that she was predominantly here to be used as bait.

 

Isaac scratched his head idly and paced around his studio, looking for something to do. As Claire watched him, he said conversationally, “Are you going soon? I'm sorry I eavesdropped on your conversation with your mom.”

 

Claire smiled, replying, “It's okay. Yeah, I should get going. I feel bad that I didn't get to learn anything today. Some assistant, huh?” she joked.

 

“Hey, don't worry about it,” Isaac said turning to her. He flashed a reassuring smile, and Claire felt her cheeks go slightly hot again at his pleasing features. He certainly wasn't hard to look at. He teased her by replying, “I promise I won't be one of those hard-ass bosses.”

 

Relieved by his casual behavior, Claire rewarded him with a flirtatious smile and cocked her head to him. She replied in jest, “Well, don't be too easy on me; we'd probably never get anything done.”

 

Isaac smiled widely and a flash of his sensual dream accosted his mind. He froze slightly to the memory, and then inwardly shook it away. He tried to look away and shed the awkward feeling building up in his stomach. But he couldn't stop staring, and Claire met his gaze evenly. He winked at her and then said, “Well, just as long as there's no more fainting.”

 

“I promise,” Claire replied, her eyes still locked with his. Finally, Isaac quickly looked away; sure he was saving himself from some preliminary trouble.

 

“When you come in tomorrow, I'll be waiting for Simone. She's going to be taking paintings down to the gallery I usually show at. Do you think you can help me get them ready before you go today?”

 

Claire nodded and followed him as he walked around his paintings. He was about to start pointing at the ones that needed to go, and then her cell phone rang again.

 

Curiously, Claire furrowed her brow at the unknown number and wondered who it could be. Was her bio-dad calling her on a restricted number? She couldn't think of any other reason.

 

She gave Isaac an apologetic look and walked off to the kitchen for privacy. Isaac stared at her as she moved away. He welcomed the silence of his studio and tried to listen to her voice.

 

“Hello?” Claire asked cautiously. Her eyes widened as she realized the voice on the other end.

 

“Claire? This is Peter.” And she was this close to dropping the phone on the floor. She gasped.

 

“Peter!” she squeaked out, and she didn't notice that Isaac had moved closer to listen to them, extremely interested in their interaction.

 

“Claire… thank goodness I found you,” Peter said, and Claire's blood heated to the care she felt in his voice. Then, her stomach turned and she had to remind herself that Peter was and always will be her uncle. Regardless, he was contacting her, and he was the very person she was desperate to see.

 

“How did you find this number? Where are you? Peter, are you okay?” she asked frantically, trying to keep her voice down but still bursting with anxiety.

 

“Listen, Claire, I know that you're working in Isaac's studio.” He paused and she heard him sigh heavily. “God, there's so much I want to say to you. We have to meet.”

 

“O..okay,” Claire stammered, and hung on his every word. “Where? When?”

 

“Claire, I know you just got her to New York, but can you get to Central Park?” Peter asked hurriedly. Claire could tell he wanted to talk quickly, but she would rather talk to him for as long as she could.

 

“Yes,” she replied. “I can take a cab…”

 

“Good,” he cut her off. “I don't have much time. Meet me there in two days, early morning at seven. Can you do that, Claire?”

 

“Of course, Peter,” Claire said. `Anything for you,' she thought sadly.

 

“I can't wait to see you,” he finally said, his voice intoned with affection. Uncle or not, she felt her heart melting. Then, he hung up and she drowned in the dead silence of her phone.

 

Isaac had shifted away from the kitchen back over to his paintings. He was stunned at how happy Claire was in meeting Peter. It only confirmed that Claire had some deep emotional feelings toward him. Peter was, undoubtedly, her hero, and it was obvious.

 

Feeling a pang of jealousy, Isaac shook the thoughts from his head and mulled over the choice to tell Nathan… or even Mr. Bennet as well. As he thought of Claire, he knew that she was a sweet person and every moment he got more acquainted with her, he felt torn that what he was doing on her behalf was really the right thing to do.

 

He really didn't like the idea that his decisions could end up hurting her - not after the effort he and Peter had made to save her.

 

“Okay, I'm back,” Claire chimed in, disrupting his thoughts. Isaac met her with a smile and led her back over to the paintings.

 

“Great. This shouldn't take long.” Isaac pointed to the paintings stacked against the wall to his right. “Those over there are already piled together. I've just got a few from the series that are sporadically stacked with others. Just look at the ones in that pile, and you can leaf throw all the other stacks. If they look the same, bring `em out and set them with the others. Just ask me questions if you're not sure.”

 

“Okay,” Claire said, beaming at him brightly, and she dutifully went off to work. Isaac looked away, trying to immerse himself into the task without glancing at her.

 

Because the more he looked at her, the more he had doubts about his decisions.

 

--

 

The next morning, Claire and Isaac watched the clock, waiting for Simone. She was at least two hours late. Isaac had called her cell phone, only to get her voicemail twice. He called down to the studio, and she hadn't been there either.

 

Claire tried not to be bored as they waited for Simone. She watched Isaac ruefully as he ran his fingers throw his hair and paced the room nervously. She knew that he was deeply worried about Simone.

 

“This is not good,” Isaac said in a low voice without looking at her. He rubbed his chin, and then stared at the floor. “Damn it, I should have done something.”

 

“What's wrong?” Claire asked, surprised by his rambling.

 

“I…” Isaac paused and looked up at her. There was deep pain in his eyes. “I painted Simone not too long ago. It's not clear, but she had this surprised look on her face, and the colors on the canvas are monochrome blue…” He bit on a fingernail and sighed in exasperation. He looked to Claire worriedly again. “I can't help but thinking that painting meant she was in danger.”

 

“But Isaac, you had no way of knowing…”

 

“No… my paintings always come true. Always. I hope…” And he paused again. “I hope that she isn't hurt…or…” He cut himself off there, and sat roughly onto his couch. Claire slowly came over to him, sitting next to him as he held his head in his hands, face shrouded in panic.

 

“Don't say that, Isaac. You don't know that she's in trouble. She could just be caught in traffic or something…” Claire reassured, and Isaac shook his head frantically.

 

“No, I can feel it. Something's wrong.” He sighed again. “I should have never brought her into this again. I tried to warn her about all of this… about Peter.” Claire watched him with great interest now, and he rambled on with venom in his voice. “But she didn't listen to me. She believed in him… like everyone does, and now this madman is loose and then the city is supposed to explode and I should have protected her!” Isaac turned to her and there was pain in his eyes. “I should have fired her as my art dealer and told her to get away from New York… but it was too late, she was already caught up with this… with him!”

 

Claire was stunned, and she never imagined Isaac would have this side to him. He was raving, disturbed about Simone and her dealings with Peter. But what did Isaac's art dealer have to do with Peter?

 

“Why did you warn her about Peter? How does she know about us? Is she special too?” Claire asked. She was very confused. Isaac turned to her and realized that Claire didn't know everything.

 

He replied, “Simone used to be my girlfriend. I used drugs, Claire, and at that time, they were the only way I could see the future. She tried to get me to stop, but I was too obsessed. I needed them to solve the puzzle of all the people with powers connected. I needed them to complete the prophecy of saving you.” He looked her and smiled proudly. He had done all this at one time for her, and Claire could tell he didn't regret it. “She couldn't handle it. She told me to quit or she'd leave. And when she left, she ran right into Peter's arms.”

 

Claire gaped and then Isaac looked away. He knew Claire had allusions of Peter, and he wondered what she thought about her hero being with Simone. He wondered if it stung for her as much as it did for him.

 

“When I got clean, she wouldn't take me back.” He laughed mockingly at himself and continued, “I was working the same cause as him, but I was still a stupid junkie in her eyes. I was never as good as Peter.”

 

Claire's blood froze, and for once she truly saw the pain etched on Isaac's face. He looked dejected, hurt and betrayed. There was so much animosity building up in his features, and she knew it was all for Peter.

 

“I'm sorry, Isaac,” Claire said. She knew it wasn't enough, but she didn't know what else to say. “I… I had no idea.”

 

Isaac was silent for a moment, and then he shook his head. He turned to her. “There's nothing for you to be sorry about. You're innocent in all of this.”

 

“But if it wasn't for me… if you didn't have a cheerleader to save…”

 

“I'd still be doing drugs, searching for answers,” he finished for her. He turned to her and gripped her shoulders. “Don't you ever think this is your fault. I'd do it all over again if I was given the chance.”

 

Claire stared at him, stunned by his touch and intentions. Merely yesterday, Isaac was a stranger to her. She felt her heart warm from the look in his eyes. She never realized that she had more than one hero in all of this.

 

But Peter was still her hero, and it bothered her that Isaac disliked him so much.

 

“Then you think this is Peter's fault?” Claire said, her expression showing her feelings. Isaac froze as he watched her. “You think that Peter is in the wrong? I'm sorry but I can't believe that.” Isaac appeared even more dejected, and Claire tried to reassure him. “I understand how you feel about Simone, and maybe I don't know all the details, but when Peter came to save me… there'd never been a purer person I'd met in my whole life.”

 

“Claire… even if Peter's a good person, it doesn't change the fact that eventually he'll lose control of all the powers he's absorbed and then he'll explode. His good intentions will not hinder him from unknowningly harming millions of people in this city,” Isaac said rationally, and Claire looked away sadly.

 

“I know,” she replied. “That's why I have to save him.” She looked resolutely at Isaac and said with determination, “It's my turn to help him. Maybe I can heal him… something.”

 

Isaac's hands were on her shoulders again and his voice was intoned with warning. “Claire, you need to be careful of Peter. Please.”

 

Claire looked at him bewildered, wondering why Isaac would think Peter would endanger her. She was invulnerable after all. Finally she cocked her head to him and smiled. “Don't worry, Isaac. I'll be alright.”

 

And in her voice, Isaac was starting to believe that maybe Claire was the purest hope that both he and Peter could have.

She stood up from the couch and took his hand. “C'mon. Let's take these paintings down to the gallery and look for Simone. Maybe she's left a message.”

 

Isaac smiled and then nodded. He began following Claire as they rounded up his paintings, and increasingly, he became entranced by the cheerleader's unlimited fortitude.

 

--

 

Isaac frowned, becoming even more worried as the day had been wasted and still there was no sign of Simone. Claire put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

 

“They haven't heard from her either. Damn!” Isaac cursed, and Claire looked outside the studio as the day was getting darker.

 

“Let's keep waiting,” Claire said. “We can help them hang your paintings and hopefully she'll turn up… or even call.”

 

Isaac nodded automatically, and he looked at Claire gratefully as she continued to support him. Still, something gnawed inside him that things were not okay - that Simone really was in danger.

 

He looked out the front window anxiously, searching for any sign. The unfeeling busy New Yorkers that bustled by only added to his falling hope - none of them showing signs of being Simone.

 

As dusk crept in, the lights turned on, illuminating the city and keeping it alive. Shadows saturated the darkest crevices, tumbling further into a forgotten background.

 

A lone figure hovered under the umbrella of pitch black, peering with interest at the yellow-tinted gallery across the street. Inside he saw a young girl and a man desperately look out the window, frantically searching hope in the night. He smiled in satisfaction. He was getting two prizes for the price of one.

 

He felt the blood drip down his fingers onto the pavement, and he turned his head slowly to a crumpled heap behind him in the alley. The body was dark, with dark skin and dark clothes, faintly shimmering with reflections from fresh, wet blood.

 

Sylar smiled widely at the body and turned his head back to the gallery with intrigue. “Well, it seems it wasn't a waste to kill you after all.”