Heroes Fan Fiction ❯ Girl in the Painting ❯ Chapter Five ( Chapter 5 )

AN: Sorry for the delay. I've been terribly busy. I hope this chapter makes up for it! Thanks for the support.

 

Girl in the Painting

 

Chapter Five

 

The next morning, Isaac woke up groggily to someone moving around in his studio. Automatically, he thought it was Simone, for the whole night before he'd been wrought with worry, hoping she'd eventually turn up. So he rushed out of bed, searching anxiously for the source.

 

His eyes fell on Claire, and internally, he felt disappointed. She was not Simone.

 

Claire turned around and met his eyes, and she rewarded him with a brilliant smile.

 

“Oh, good morning, sleepy-head,” she greeted. “I hope you don't mind. I let myself in and started early. Thanks for the key last night.”

 

Isaac watched her momentarily, fascinated by her presence in his studio. It was something unfamiliar, yet she radiated a comfortable glow like she truly belonged here. He tried not to stare, so he walked over to his fridge, glancing at her as she busied herself around the studio.

 

Pulling out some Kool-Aid, Isaac sat down at his counter and watched her. Claire turned around, caught his gaze and frowned.

 

“Don't tell me that's your breakfast,” Claire said, and she put the dirty brushes she was gathering down on a cart table. She came over to the kitchen and faced him across the counter, eyeing his Kool-Aid with pity.

 

“Uh…” Isaac stuttered, looking down at his drink. “Yes, I guess so.”

 

Claire made a huffing noise, and she moved toward his fridge. He watched her groggily but was fascinated by her movements. He eyed her outfit for a second, and he realized Claire had listened to him about wearing old clothes.

 

Claire opened the door to his fridge and frowned even more. “You don't have anything to eat in here.” She surveyed the Kool-Aid, Guinness, and myriad other condiments that adorned his fridge. He didn't even have milk or eggs!

 

Isaac yawned and then took another sip. “What do you expect? I'm a bachelor.” He couldn't help but smirk as she pouted at him. His eyes traveled down to her shirt, and he was intrigued by the screen printed image. Claire caught him staring at her and looked down at her chest.

 

Isaac flushed, not wanting to get caught for looking at her chest, rather the cartoon that was on it. “Nice… shirt. It's rather old isn't it?” His face paled, shifting his gaze away. She barely fit into that shirt, her young curves accentuated by the extra small t-shirt.

 

“Oh, this?” Claire smiled genuinely, and she seemed relieved that Isaac was only interested in the cartoon. She replied, “Yeah, I guess it is. It's the only one I could find. I usually wear it to bed, but all my stuff hasn't come from Odessa yet.” She paused, and her expression seemed distant, preoccupied with old memories.

 

“Is that a cartoon you watched when you grew up?” Isaac asked. He heard of the show, but had never seen it. And to think Claire watched cartoons - sometimes he'd forgotten how young she really was. For one her age, she acted very mature.

 

“Bonkers, yeah. It was a hilarious show. I loved it as a kid.” She shrugged, and grabbed the ends of her shirt, stretching it to look at the picture appreciatively. “It's a shame that I have to get it dirty though.”

 

“I can give you something else, you know,” Isaac responded. He gave her small smirk. “If it's that nostalgic.”

 

“Ha, don't worry about it.” She smiled at him, and they locked eyes. “It's just another thing from the past, right? It's not even my life anymore.” Her voice was sad, and she stared at a spot on the counter, avoiding his eyes.

 

Isaac put his drink down and looked at her with concern. “Claire…”

 

Claire shook her head. “It's okay. I'm just… I'm still adjusting to this new life. You wanna hear something funny? Last night when I got home, I half expected Meredith to be sick with worry that I wasn't home yet. I expected her to yell at me and then ground me. At least, my other mom would have done that. But you know what she did instead?”

 

Isaac shook his head, watching her and letting her continue. “She was passed out on the couch with Conan on, and there was a pint of Hagan Daas melting in her lap. At first, I thought it was the most hilarious thing ever… but then I realized it was kinda sad.”

 

Claire turned to him and met his eyes. “I can't believe I actually wanted her to yell at me for staying out late last night, but she really didn't care.”

 

Isaac watched her with sympathy, but he didn't know what to say. Claire was obviously hurting and still confused about why she was here or what she was supposed to do next. She left her home and the only family she's ever known for a totally different world.

 

“Claire… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to keep you out so late…”

 

“Oh gees, Isaac, stop apologizing,” she responded. She reached over and grabbed his arm and squeezed, and she looked him square in the face. “I wanted to help last night. I really did. I'm concerned about where your friend is just as much as you are.”

 

She let go of his arm, and Isaac was slightly sad for the lack of touch. She turned and looked at the paintings again propped around the studio.

 

“I know I belong here in New York, but I don't feel like I fit just yet…” She sighed, and then she rubbed her forehead. “I should be the one who's sorry.” She looked over to Isaac again, regret in her deep eyes. “I shouldn't be rambling about my problems when Simone is missing.” Isaac looked away from her, and Claire knew that the man was still distraught about his ex-girlfriend. She asked cautiously, “Have you heard any news yet about her whereabouts?”

 

Isaac shook his head. “No… no one's called yet. I can't even report her missing. The cops say for an adult it has to be like 72 hours or something. They won't listen when I say that there's something wrong.” He shrugged his shoulders and looked away from her gaze. “Hey, who believes some junkie prophet anyway?”

 

“I believe you, Isaac,” Claire said, and when he turned to look at her, she was smiling brightly at him again. He could have sworn his heart stopped momentarily when he stared at her youthful grace.

 

He laughed lightly. Her smile was contagious. He nodded his head and said, “Thanks.”

 

“Now!” she chirped, rolling up her sleeves. “What shall I do first? Clean your brushes? Maybe I should organize all your paintings. Do some dusting?” He looked at her bewildered, impressed she could change moods so fast. She gave him a toothy smile. “But first, why don't I start off with breakfast?”

 

“Uh… well, if you hadn't noticed, I have no food here,” he replied. “But I appreciate the gesture.”

 

She winked at him and pointed her finger at him. “Problem solved! I saw a corner market store just down the street. It looks like a Mexican-based grocer, but I bet they have the essentials.” She turned away from him for a moment, and began digging in her purse. “Ah! I have a bit left from Meredith.” She picked up her purse and headed toward the door. “I guess brunch is on Meredith today. I'll be back!” And Isaac watched her exit the door down the stairs.

 

“Huh…” he murmured to himself, stunned by Claire's energy. “Incredible.” And he walked over to a fresh canvas and prepped his materials for painting.

 

--

 

When Claire returned, Isaac was painting under the influence of his ability. He didn't even hear her come in as he was slashing and stroking away at the canvas, his vision coloring to life.

 

At first she was intrigued by him, stopping to stare as she walked through the door. She watched him as he worked methodically, extremely unaware of her and his environment. And he would hop from canvas to canvas, erecting a clean one right away when another was finished. Some of them were of people she'd never seen, but all of them were precise and beautiful - taking shape as if the scene could happen right in front of them in real life.

 

And even though she could recognize some paintings with Peter, Isaac, and even Simone, Claire turned away and let him be, trying not to impose on his privacy and get to cooking brunch.

 

She cleaned off his stove and counters, noticing the burners had not been used in a long time. She was sure Isaac ate out a lot, or maybe hardly at all. She idly wondered about the last time he'd had a home cooked meal. Shrugging the thought away, she returned to work and started cutting some of the chicken and vegetables. And after some digging, she unearthed a frying pan and a couple others, and began washing them in the sink.

 

Isaac still continued to paint, and she would glance at him once in awhile. When the food was cooked and ready to eat, she took a break. She decided to stay occupied while Isaac worked, and she roamed around his studio and looked at the paintings. She knew Isaac eventually wanted to pull them out together and figure out which ones he should sell, even the ones he thought were sub-par and not done under the influence. He was famous enough now that he could probably sell just about anything.

 

Claire wandered down his hallway toward his bedroom curiously, hoping to find any discarded paintings in there. She flushed, a little embarrassed to be invading Isaac's private bedroom. She was entranced though, as she looked around and took in the atmosphere where Isaac slept.

 

It was a lot barer than she thought it would be. Isaac was an artist, so she guessed he would have more creative things in his room, giving him midnight inspirations. Instead, his walls were painted warm gray, and the blinds rigidly shut out any light. The bed was haphazardly made, with a few blankets unkempt over a bedding cover on the mattress. Leaning against the walls of the room, she found discarded canvases, none of them complete or worth anything Isaac would sell.

 

But then something caught her eye.

 

Turning around, she couldn't see Isaac but was sure he was still painting vigorously with his powers. So Claire inched forward and eyed the canvas edge sticking out behind his bed. On the side of the canvas was exotic red and yellow hues, and when she pulled it out, she gasped when she noticed the full composition.

 

It was a painting of her - and she was nude.

 

She quickly returned the painting behind the bed and walked out of his bedroom. She stopped in the hallway, confused to what was going on. Why would Isaac paint a picture of her like that? And was it one of his prophecies? She could have sworn the painting placed her in Isaac's studio. But what was she doing here like that?

 

She flushed, and her brow furrowed. `What's going on here?' And she began to wonder if there was more to Isaac than she really knew. Was he hiding anything from her?

 

The image of the painting flashed in her mind, and she gritted her teeth. She was determined to know exactly what that painting was about.

 

--

 

Claire returned to the kitchen feeling anxious. Not only was that painting still accosting her thoughts, but the food she cooked Isaac was getting cold.

 

And he was still painting like mad.

 

Claire sighed and started walking over to him. She brought him a sample of one of her quesadillas and hoped he was almost done painting. When Claire walked over to him, she froze, dropping the food she was holding in her hand.

 

Her mouth gaped, and her eyes glued to the painting. She stepped back, only to crash into a cart table and knock off a bottle of linseed oil. Isaac snapped out of it and turned around to the commotion.

 

“Claire…what the…” He looked at the mess on the floor, oil pouring into the food she prepared, and then he looked up at her face. Her normally tanned skin was white as a sheet.

 

“Oh, no… is that…?” She pointed to the painting, and Isaac turned to look. His mouth went dry.

 

The painting was of Sylar and Claire, and Sylar was coming after her.

 

Isaac clamped his hand over his mouth and looked at Claire with dread. The madman was coming after her again. Claire wasn't safe here.

 

He turned to Claire, and she backed away from the painting in shock ready to fall. Isaac caught her, his arms squeezing her shoulders trying to calm her.

 

“Claire, calm down…”

 

Tears ebbed in her eyes, and she shook her head. “Not again. He's coming again.”

 

She was breathing erratically, and she turned to Isaac, tears flowing down her cheeks. “What's going on, Isaac? Just why am I really here?”

 

He watched her in confusion, shaking his head. “I … I don't know what you mean…”

 

“I found the painting, Isaac,” she announced, and Isaac paled. “Of me in your bedroom.” Isaac said nothing, and Claire slacked in his grip, looking over at his new painting again. “And now this? What am I supposed to do here? How can my bio-dad protect me if he's coming back?”

 

“Claire, you need to calm down,” Isaac said. “We can figure out this painting, just calm down. It'll all make sense.”

 

She broke from his grip and looked at him worriedly. “Will it?” She turned away and sighed bitterly. “I don't understand anything.”

 

“About the painting, Claire… please believe me when I say I don't know what it's about. I'm sorry I painted you in such a way… but I can't control my prophecies. I really can't.”

 

She bit her lip and kept her gaze away from his. Tears continued to sparkle in her eyes. She nodded. She knew deep down Isaac really couldn't control his powers or what he painted. She had witnessed such an event today.

 

“It's okay…I understand that you can't help it. I don't blame you.” She looked at him desperately. “I'm just so confused.”

 

Isaac ran a hand nervously through his hair and then said, “I haven't told your dad about the painting of you…” He smiled sheepishly. “I was afraid he'd kill me.”

 

Claire paused, and she managed to crack a smile amidst the tears. Her voice was still shaky when she said, “I don't know what to think of that painting, Isaac.” Her light voice turned severe, and she looked at the new painting and stated, “But it's that one I'm not sure about.”

 

Isaac turned around and sighed. “Yeah, I know; that one scares me too.” He looked to the painting and then to her. “I don't know if you're safe here anymore. I should call your dad and have him hide you somewhere else.” Isaac turned to pick up the phone, but Claire ran to him, putting a hand on his arm.

 

“No!” She stopped him. “You can't…I have to stay here.”

 

Isaac gave her a peculiar look. “But Claire… Sylar is out there looking for you in New York. The background in that portrait is just a few blocks from my studio.”

 

“I know, but I can't leave yet. And I can't tell you why either,” she said, eyeing him seriously.

 

Isaac said nothing, but he knew exactly why she wanted to stay. He remembered; tomorrow, she was meeting Peter.

 

“Okay,” he replied reluctantly. He gripped her shoulders again. “I want you to be careful. You can't go out on your own anymore. I should come with you. I should protect you.”

 

Claire froze, staring at his intense dark eyes and then smiling lightly. “Thanks,” she replied, putting a light hand over his as he still held her. “But who's going to protect you?”

 

“I don't need protection, Claire.” He broke away from her, and then looked at his new paintings. He stared at the one of Claire and Sylar. “Your life is the most important one here. If he gets you…” He didn't finish his sentence. With Claire's powers in Sylar's hands, the man would be unstoppable. Not to mention, a sweet, brilliant girl would lose her life. He'd never allow that to happen, not after all he'd gone through to save her.

 

Claire came up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder. “Don't say that, Isaac. Please.” Her voice trembled, and her touch was warm and light over his skin. He turned around, hypnotized once again by her sweetness and grace. He looked into her face and ached to touch the loose tendrils of blonde hair that had fallen out of her pony tail. Instead, he sniffed and then smiled at her.

 

“I smell food.” And Claire let out an unexpected guffaw, breaking the mournful silence.

 

“I should have guessed food would help out in a crisis,” Claire said, watching Isaac stalk over to the kitchen and leer at the food.

 

“You did not just make me a spicy omelet and quesadillas,” he looked up at her, grinning like a little boy.

 

“I certainly did,” Claire chirped, rolling her eyes and laughing. “It's about time you had some food in your stomach, and I thought this was an appropriate time to try out some recipes from Meredith's Mexican cookbooks.”

 

Claire walked over to the counter, leaning over and watching Isaac appreciatively as he scarfed down her food. She sighed in contentment, and Isaac seemed to forget about the painting for the moment.

 

“What's that?” Isaac said with a mouthful of food, and he pointed to her paper bag she had brought with her this morning.

 

Claire noticed it and said, “Oh! I almost forgot. I brought you comfort food… because of last night. I knew Simone's disappearance was hard on you, so I made you something.”

 

Isaac arched an eyebrow, and then walked over to the bag. Claire grinned at him as he opened it, and as he peeked inside, he looked at her curiously again.

 

“Cupcakes?”

 

“Not just any cupcakes, Isaac. Those are Bennet Family Comfort Cupcakes. One of a kind, and guaranteed to cure what ails you.”

 

He reached in the bag and snatched one up, sniffing it before he took a bite. Claire giggled as red frosting stuck to the corners of his mouth. Isaac grinned, making a noise of ecstasy. “Damn… comfort food is right.” He shot Claire a playful stare. “It's not the only thing that's one of a kind here.”

 

Claire smiled, blushing and then cocking her head to him. “Hey now, I'm just trying to do the best job I can.” She sashayed over to him and dipped her hand into the bag for a cupcake of her own. He watched her as she took a bite, tongue tasting the frosting before her teeth sank into the cake. Isaac felt his heart beat quicken and caught her watching him intently with her light eyes.

 

“Hey,” he whispered. “Aren't these my cupcakes?”

 

She gave him a challenging grin. “I think the baker is allowed a taste as well.”

 

“Oh you do, do you?” Isaac chuckled, and he became caught in her mesmerizing gaze. She looked at him expectantly, and he had to catch himself before he fell. Instead, he broke the dangerous moment, and dipped his cupcake onto the tip of her nose. She gasped as he smeared her with frosting.

 

He laughed heartily and dashed away from her as she tried to grab him.

 

“Isaac!” she screamed, and she began running after him around his centered counter.

 

When catching him seemed futile, she stopped, and licked the frosting off her nose. He watched her with intrigue, not knowing many women that could reach their tongue that far.

 

“Nice trick,” he responded approvingly. Claire harrumphed.

 

“I thought you were more mature,” Claire said haughtily. She wiped the remaining frosting off her face and then licked her fingers. Isaac tried desperately not to gawk. “I can't believe you would attack a girl with her own food like that.”

 

He walked over to her and pinched her arm. “And I thought you were indestructible. I guess that cupcake frosting is your kryptonite, Super-Claire.”

 

“Haha,” she said, and then she placed her hands on her hips and looked at him angrily. “Are you going to finish this awesome meal I cooked for you or not?”

 

Isaac raised an eyebrow. Truly after that scene, he wasn't really hungry for food anymore. He had to hold himself back though, knowing full well that having such alluring thoughts about Claire was treading upon dangerous territory. It didn't help that he'd been painting her and dreaming of her - and now he was getting closer to her in just a short time.

 

“Don't worry,” he said lazily, popping part of a quesadilla into his mouth. “I'd never waste such a lovely meal.”

 

“Darn right,” she replied, nodding resolutely. Isaac immediately laughed. Dazzled with him, Claire couldn't help but smile as well.

 

“So Isaac…” she said in a softer voice. She rested her elbows on the counter and watched him eat. “Tell me about that painting… about the one in your bedroom.”

 

Isaac stopped eating and then sighed. “There's not much to tell. The same day your father asked me to hire and watch you was the day I did the painting. I can't explain it. I just know you look very happy, but in the background the city is on fire.”

 

“Huh, let's not forget I'm going commando,” Claire retorted, and Isaac almost choked on his food.

 

He composed himself and said, “I don't know why you're worried about it. I've had assistants pose for me in the past. Maybe one day you gain the courage and pose for me.” He looked away, hoping that his explanation would hush her curiosity and they could move on from the subject. “The human female body is something to be celebrated, not be embarrassed about.”

 

Claire eyed him suspiciously. “Since when is that in the job description?” Isaac was sure the thought made her uncomfortable.

 

“It's usually not, but it is a plus. Actually, in the ad I did specify wanting some time from my assistant for figure drawing. I don't think you're dad really knew what the ad was about anyway.” He stopped and watched her as she mulled the idea over. “But don't worry, of course I wouldn't ask that of you. You're too young, and I'm sure you're not comfortable with it.”

 

Claire nodded, frowning somewhat when Isaac called her young. He mentally cursed himself. He just couldn't win could he? He continued to eat, hoping the topic would go away.

 

“Isaac…” Claire chimed in the silence, a thoughtful look still on her face. “What if the painting is for something else? I mean, why would you just paint me for a figure drawing if the city is burning?”

 

“Hn. Good question,” he said, and then he met her eyes. “Look Claire, we can piece it together eventually. But I'm not concerned about that painting for now. Right now I'm concerned about finding Simone and making sure Sylar doesn't hurt you.” Claire nodded and forced a smile. Isaac reached over and placed a hand on her forearm. She looked into his serious expression. “Claire, thank you for today.”

 

“What for?”

 

“The food and… for being here,” Isaac answered. Claire seemed to relax to that, and Isaac grinned. He couldn't stop himself, but in such a vulnerable moment, he gave Claire a flirtatious look.

 

He spoke in a low, husky voice. “Keep it up and you could get a raise.”

 

Claire inwardly shivered as his smooth voice filtered into her ears. She felt heat rise from below. Her face turned pink. She cocked her head challengingly at him and put a hand over his. She joked, “Let's just hope I get to keep my clothes on for my job review.”

 

Isaac's eyes widened and he pulled his arm away, embarrassed. Claire inwardly grinned, feeling an odd victory. And for awhile, he hadn't said much to her for the rest of the day.