Heroes Fan Fiction ❯ Girl in the Painting ❯ Chapter Eight ( Chapter 8 )

AN: Remember this is AU from “Distractions”, so the events that took place in those episodes afterward don't really matter, and anything else I use is for my story only. Thanks for the support!

 

Girl in the Painting

 

Chapter Eight

 

The next morning when Claire went to work at Isaac's, she refused to speak to him. Isaac didn't say anything either, supposing he deserved her silence and angry glares. Instead, she stomped around his studio, cleaning up the mess from the previous day. Isaac tried not to watch her, but once in awhile he would give her a sympathetic glance, wishing he could come up with an apology she'd accept.

 

After too much silence, Claire slammed the rag down on the floor in a huff. She was on her hands and knees scrubbing a pile of caked oil paint with Orange Goop and paint thinner. Finally when the work began to annoy her, she stood up and placed her hands on her hips, staring at Isaac.

 

“You called my dad, didn't you?” Claire asked, and Isaac felt his blood freeze. Did Claire know he called Bennet, or was she referring to his call to Nathan?

 

“I …” Isaac stuttered, but she wouldn't let him finish.

 

“Nathan's moving us again, and Peter agreed with him. Nathan's sending Meredith and me to Paris to hide out until the election is over and until Sylar has been dealt with.”

 

Isaac almost sighed in relief, not knowing how Claire would react if she knew about his dealings with Bennet. Not that Bennet was out to hurt her; all of them were working for Claire's best interests and above all, her protection.

 

“Claire, I know you're upset, but it's the only way to keep you safe.”

 

“I don't need to be kept safe. And Meredith can handle her own too. I wish people would stop treating me like some damsel in distress! It's not like I can get hurt…”

 

Isaac walked over to her, grasping her arms and looking into her eyes. “Claire, I've seen the future. As indestructible as you think you are, there was a future where Sylar did hurt you.” Isaac sighed and looked away from her, and Claire's anger transformed into fear. Claire seemed confused, and he hoped ensuring her safety would ease her frustration. “Claire, I don't want to see the future where Sylar has killed you.”

 

Claire didn't say anything at first, and instead she relaxed in his grasp. She looked up into his eyes and said, “Okay, but I'm not going because I want to. I feel I can do some good here against the fight with Sylar.”

 

Isaac gave her a small smile and released his hands from her shoulders. He said, “You know your father would never agree to that, and I would side with him.”

 

Claire nodded, and she walked away from him over to the kitchen for a break. She opened Isaac's fridge and pulled out a soda, plopping herself down on his stool. She turned on the TV, and her eyes widened.

 

A breaking story had appeared on the news, and more horrendous murders were being reported. The method of the murders was splattered all over the TV screen, but the reporters had no information on the identity of the killer - or the F.B.I. had wanted to keep it that way.

 

As two people were confirmed dead with their heads sliced open, Claire and Isaac both knew who was responsible.

 

Isaac cleared his throat, and he came up behind Claire. “Sometimes… sometimes I'm scared for myself when I see what he does.”

 

Claire turned around, noticing the dread in his eyes. Isaac added, “One day I have this feeling he's going to come after me too.”

 

Claire looked to the floor, understanding that Isaac had a right to fear Sylar. He wanted to steal their powers for himself, and Sylar showed no remorse for those he killed, either for their power or for those who got in his way.

 

She shivered, not liking the idea that Sylar might murder Isaac. If she could be killed, the cheerleader who was indestructible, what did that mean for Isaac? His role in this grand scheme was small, and he hid away in his loft painting the dire images of the future. And a power like Isaac's in Sylar's hands …

 

She swallowed uncomfortably. She didn't want to think of it, but it didn't take a genius to surmise that Sylar could find anyone with powers. He could even foretell his own future, and if someone were going to kill him, he could work to prevent it. He could do almost anything he wanted to manipulate his future.

 

Claire put a comforting hand on Isaac's arm. She felt goose bumps on her skin, and anxiety swelled in her body for what she was about to ask him.

 

“Come with us, Isaac,” she responded in a low voice. She squeezed his arm as he gaped, stunned that she would ask it. However, Claire was very serious. Her eyes didn't waver, and she watched him with hope. “Come to Paris with me.”

 

Isaac shook his head. He was surprised, and more than anything, flattered that she was concerned for him. But he didn't feel his life was as important as hers.

 

“Claire… I can't. I … you and your mother are way more worthy of protection than …”

 

“Stop thinking that already! I'm tired of it!” Claire snapped at him, and once again, Isaac was taken aback by her fortitude.

 

Claire stood up to face him with her eyes blazing. “Look, I can't have you putting yourself down all the time. What if I'm in Paris and Sylar takes you? How do you think I will feel when I find out you're dead?” Tears welled up in her eyes and she bit her lip. She asked him softly, “Don't you even care about your own life?”

 

Isaac could feel her warm breath against his neck as she spoke to him. His heart pounded rapidly as she leaned in close, not sure what to make the feelings rising up in his blood. He lifted up a hand, brushing away a stray blonde tendril that had fallen over her face.

 

Claire inhaled a quick draught of breath as his fingers grazed her skin, pushing the hair behind her ear. She felt his gaze on her, so she looked away, afraid she might lose herself within his eyes.

 

And in an instant, she felt herself coming closer to him, his arm snaking around her back and her face against his chest. Claire closed her eyes, and Isaac looked away briefly before he took her into an embrace.

 

Suddenly, he pulled back, distancing himself from her and then slinking to the kitchen. His eyes roamed over the stack of papers on his counter to a picture of Simone cut out of the obituaries. Momentarily, he felt sick to his stomach, and he couldn't believe he had almost touched Nathan's daughter - and not too soon after his ex-girlfriend's death.

 

Claire felt dazed, standing in the same spot as she registered that Isaac had pulled away from her. She tried not to be surprised, and she had known all along that despite her growing feelings, what she felt for Isaac was probably not right - and if anything, ill timed.

 

She glanced over to him, trying to see that maybe he had feelings for her as well. However, when Claire's eyes roamed over the stack of papers of Simone, she wondered if he felt anything toward her at all.

 

She frowned, and she wouldn't allow herself to cry just yet. Glaring at the picture of Simone for a second, she felt a flash of jealousy before shaking the feelings off, and Claire intended to get back to work.

 

`It's just as well Isaac is still hung up on Simone,' she thought, and she almost hated herself for thinking badly of a dead woman - a woman that Isaac obviously deeply loved.

 

Claire turned around ready to go back to her job, but then Isaac stopped her.

 

“I wish I could go to Paris with you,” he said, his eyes still watching Simone's picture on the table. Claire turned around, and the fear had returned to his eyes. She walked over to him, glancing at the stack of papers with him. Underneath Simone's obituary, Claire noticed a paper containing her address, number to her lawyer's, and a reminder note to talk about the will, which Isaac obviously was involved in.

 

“Isaac… I'm sure you still can,” Claire said, putting a hand up. He turned away from her abruptly, pacing the kitchen.

 

“No…” he replied sternly. He looked into her eyes and said, “I admit it. I'm scared, and I'd love nothing more to run away from him… with you and your mom to Paris.” He slammed his hand on his counter, making Claire jump. “But if I ran away from him, what kind of man would I be?”

 

Claire didn't say anything, watching Isaac as he became emotional. He turned around to the TV, still reporting on the murders, and then he said with a strange laugh, “Peter was her hero, you know.” The room felt thicker as he said those words, and Claire knew what he was getting at. “She thought I was some delusional junkie. Hell, she didn't even believe I could paint the future, not at first. She didn't believe I had a gift. But when Peter came around and he told her he had powers, she believed him.” He turned around to face Claire, and she saw a deep agony etched on his face - the same agony she saw before Peter whisked her away yesterday. “I need to face Sylar. I need to face him and prove that I can be a hero. I want to meet the man that took Simone and face him. Wherever Simone is now, I want her to see that I can do that.”

 

“Isaac…no…” Claire felt fear rise in her belly and then she shook her head. “You'll be killed. You can't… Isaac, please.”

 

But his mind had been made up. “No, Claire. I don't care if he kills me.” And as he said that, Claire rushed over to him. She cornered him against the sink, and he watched in surprise as she cried for him, unrelenting in her will to change his mind.

 

She reached up a hand and cupped his cheek. “Please…”

 

“Claire…” He put his hand over hers and smiled. “I'm doing this so he can take me instead of you. You and I both know he knows about this place and that he's been watching us. The paintings are proof of that. You'll have a chance to get away, Claire.”

 

She shook her head, and he trailed a finger down her cheek, wiping away her tears.

 

“You can't,” she choked out, her head pressing against his chest.

 

Isaac felt the young girl embrace him fiercely, holding onto him as if he was going to die right there. He smiled weakly and pulled her into his warmth, embracing her back.

 

“Don't worry, maybe I'll survive. We still have to see how that painting comes out. You remember it, right?”

 

Claire sniffled, nodding against him. “Yeah, the commando-painting.” Isaac laughed at the moniker, and then rested his lips against the top of her head. Claire stilled in his arms, and slowly she tilted her head to look into his face.

 

Both of them were trapped in the moment, feeling sounds buzz to a mute around them. Isaac traced his hand lightly over her cheek as Claire moved closer, staring at him as he licked his lips.

 

“Hey…” Isaac whispered, his warmth fanning her face.

 

“Hey…” Claire responded in turn, almost jovially as she neared him.

 

Their lips touched lightly before they were startled apart, a loud rapping against Isaac's door.

 

Both Claire and Isaac jumped back, and Isaac looked curiously at the door as Claire froze, flushed and wide-eyed from the interruption.

 

“Coming!” Isaac called out, and he squinted through the smoky window to see who was there. Heaven help them if it was Sylar, only Isaac didn't appear that worried when he saw an outline of glasses.

 

`Damn,' he thought, and he gave Claire a nervous backward glance before he opened the door. `This is not going to go well; I just know it.'

 

“What is it?” Isaac asked him harshly after swinging the door open. As expected, Bennet invited himself in, rushing through the doorway. He met Claire's eyes, and she seemed just as surprised to see him.

 

“Daddy?” she squeaked out. She stared at him with astonishment, and she backed herself away from him as he began to inch toward her.

 

He smiled with adoration upon seeing her. He watched her as a father who'd lost his child and was now being reunited. “Claire-bear…”

 

Claire shut her eyes tightly with tears squeezing from her eyes. She looked over to her dad, shaking her head, and then she turned to Isaac. His blood stilled as she glared at him with such betrayal.

 

“What… what is he doing here? I trusted you!”

 

Isaac put his hands up to calm her down, and he said lightly, “Now, Claire. It's not what you think.”

 

Bennet and Isaac were both cautious to keep her from getting the wrong idea.

 

“Claire, I'm not taking you to the company, if that's what you think. Honey, I've been on the run from them for a while… I'm trying to protect you.”

 

She looked to Isaac, waiting for an excuse from him. Isaac spoke, “I'm sorry, Claire. When your father broke from the company, he asked for my help.”

 

She didn't seem convinced. She looked back and forth from Isaac to her dad, and then she pushed through him, dashing through the door.

 

Both of them called out her name, and Isaac began to charge after her. Bennet held him back, and Isaac glared at him as they both saw Claire dart away down the streets of New York.

 

“What are you doing? We have to go after her!” Isaac screamed, pushing Bennet away.

 

“Now Mr. Mendez, calm down. We can find her, but we have to think this through rationally.”

 

“Rationally? What are you even doing here? You know how she feels about you, and you know she works here. By being here you might have put her into even more danger!” Isaac yelled at him.

 

Bennet was still calm as Isaac lashed at him, and finally he answered, “I'm sorry, I had to see her.” He paused, and then said, “Also, I came to get her. It's taken me some time to gather up my resources, but I feel I can best protect her.”

 

“What can you do that Nathan Petrelli can't?”

 

“I have the Haitian. He can mask out Sylar's powers if he comes to harm her.”

 

Isaac exhaled heavily and rolled his eyes. He leaned against the wall and gritted his teeth. He could sympathize with Claire now as everyone fawned over her, trying to protect her. He'd probably run away too.

 

“Well, she's gone, exposed to Sylar in New York, so who's going to protect her now?”

 

Bennet pursed his lips and said, “We still are. We'll find her before Sylar does, and when we bring her back, I'll take her.”

 

“You'll have to duke it out with Nathan Petrelli on that one,” Isaac finally replied. “I don't want any part of some strange custody battle. I just want to find Claire.”

 

And as Isaac began to leave his loft, Bennet stopped him again. “You'll stay here. You don't even know where she's going.”

 

“And you do?” Isaac challenged him. Bennet looked out the window toward the direction where Claire ran.

 

“My associate is probably trailing her. She'll no doubt try to contact Peter Petrelli again,” Bennet surmised, and Isaac turned around, trying to hide his obvious expression of exasperation as Bennet said Peter's name.

 

“So what am I supposed to do? Just sit here and do nothing?” He turned around again and looked Bennet in the eyes. “I care about Claire too.”

 

Bennet didn't flinch. Instead, he gave Isaac a mysterious smile and then said, “Then do what you do best. Paint.” Isaac looked at him curiously as Bennet walked away. Finally he concluded, “See if you can paint Claire's future, Mr. Mendez, and hopefully it'll give us a clue to where she's going. Call me when you've got something.”

 

The door slammed behind Bennet, and Isaac punched the wall, crying in frustration.

 

`That's all I ever do, isn't it? I'm just the guy who paints!' he thought to himself, and before he would allow himself to be defeated, he was reminded that Claire was out there and in danger.

 

With determination rising on his face, Isaac faced a blank canvas. He pursed his lips, and filled his mind with derring-do, hoping and praying for the power to save Claire.

 

He couldn't let her down, not like he did Simone. He wouldn't lose someone else close to him to Sylar. Eden, Simone - they were both gone. Isaac had very precious few in his life, and the ones he did have, he would fight to keep. He would ensure their safety.

 

And he cared about Claire. She couldn't die. She just couldn't.

 

He closed eyes tightly, and he thought of Claire's sweet face, flirting with him and rewarding him with her innocent laugh.

 

`Claire, I won't let you die. I'll find you,' he thought to himself. `I won't lose someone else that's important to me.'

 

He opened his eyes, and they became glazed over with white, his power surging within him.

 

And before he brought brush to canvas, he thought of Claire one more time before the power completely took him over.

 

`I'm falling for you, Claire,' he thought, and then dark, muddied red bled onto white.