Heroes Fan Fiction ❯ Girl in the Painting ❯ Chapter Nine ( Chapter 9 )

Girl in the Painting

Chapter Nine


Eyes wide and free of white, Isaac Mendez jarred back into reality. When he came to, his eyes roamed the studio in awe, gazing at the myriad paintings his powers had produced. He stood up, roaming his studio and looking over each painting methodically, checking for clues among the dire and vague predictions each one evoked.

Some of the paintings frightened him, for his own sake and for others. One canvas seemed completely drenched in blood, the look of horror on his face as his own skull was sliced open. And next to it was the scariest painting of them all.

Claire's eyes were wide with fright, looking away from the viewer. Her body lay mangled on the ground, and her head was cut open at the top. She was contorted and sprawled before a familiar background, and Isaac swallowed hard when he realized just where she would die.

'Simone's apartment...' he thought to himself, and he wondered what the hell would possess her to go there. What connection did Claire have to Simone's former apartment? What did Claire hope to find if she went there?

Isaac pursed his lips and already knew the answer. Peter...

Quickly, he shoved the paintings aside and looked for his cell phone. Mr. Bennet was already on speed dial, and after he dialed the number, Isaac heard him immediately pick up.

"Mr. Bennet!" Isaac spoke in a hurried tone. "I know where Claire is going." Isaac could almost feel the other man smiling on the other end of the phone line. Mr. Bennet had been right; Isaac was very useful for one thing - painting.

"She's going to Simone Deveaux's apartment in Manhattan. Yeah, I think she's going to look for Peter Petrelli since he's connected to her," Isaac responded quickly. He paused, listening to Bennet's instructions on the other line.

"No, I'm coming out there. I'll meet you." He paused again, looking forward as Bennet talked to him. Momentarily, Isaac tuned out whatever the man said. Obviously, Bennet had felt it unnecessary for Isaac to endanger himself for Claire's sake. Isaac didn't feel it was unnecessary at all.

"I care about Claire too, and I'm coming whether you like it or not!" Isaac switched off the phone and prepared to leave. Before he could dash out the door, he looked around for a heavy blunt weapon. It was probably silly to think he could use just any normal weapon against Sylar. Hell, a gun might not even work against Sylar's barrage of powers. However futile it was, Isaac needed something to protect himself and Claire; he was desperate.

He picked up a Louisville Slugger that was hidden in the corner. He never used it for much, mostly just to hit softballs to the local poor kids when he needed a break from painting. Though, since he'd been preoccupied with his future paintings, he hadn't much time for a break, so the bat sat in the corner collecting dust. Tonight he hoped it would be useful in stopping Sylar's wrath on Claire.

Isaac glanced over at his paintings once more before he left. His eyes roamed over the painting of Claire dead in front of Simone's apartment, and he bit his lip. His eyes raged with fury and he would not let her die. He would not lose another important person in his life, and wherever Simone was in her afterlife, he wanted to prove to her that he could be a hero.

The other paintings screamed at him, jarring him out of his thoughts. The dire painting with his own skull sliced open was not a fate he expected, not since he'd painted Claire older and smiling at him in his studio. He wondered if the future could really change that much, and maybe some paintings would become obsolete. Was it his fate to be Sylar's prey? Was that the cost of proving he was finally a hero?

Isaac put the bat down, leaning it against the doorframe. He walked slowly over to the painting of his foretold death, and he moved it behind old paintings that he'd discarded. He wasn't sure exactly why he was hiding it; it was his fate and he shouldn't be afraid. However, the thought of Claire seeing the painting and becoming scared tore him up inside. He knew that she would be sad if she ever saw that painting, and though it warmed him to know someone cared that much, he did not want the painting to cause her pain.

She had enough pain in her life to deal with, and he didn't want her to waste her time worrying about him. He knew that once he saved her, he would spend as much time as he could with her - his precious, openhearted Claire.

He picked up the bat, and glanced back at his studio once more. Locking up, he dashed swiftly down the stairs hoping to catch a cab to Simone's apartment. He prayed that he'd make it in time.

--

He watched her, his pretty little indestructible kitty-cat, running down the streets of New York to Manhattan. He followed her, and finally she stopped in front of the art dealer's apartment right where he wanted her.

He lingered in the backdrop like a creature of the night, waiting and watching as she moved inside the cage where he would trap her. He tapped his fingers on his thighs, eager to touch that soft, youthful skin and pry his fingers through her skull, dipping through the masses and into the secrets of her insatiable gifts.

Her screams would ring inside his sensitive ears like tribal music, and he would smile when she took her last breath at his feet. And he would break her and take her, making her forever his - molding her one delight into the frame of his being.

--

After she started running, her mind buzzed on auto-pilot, and all she could think about was seeing Peter again - hoping he would comfort her in desperate times just as he always had. She didn't know exactly where to start looking for him; he had told her he'd been training with an invisible man named Claude and they were hiding from her Dad's company - former company if her dad was telling the truth.

Simone was the only clue she had of Peter's whereabouts. Even though Claire had only met her a couple of times, Simone had been an icon - for both Peter and Isaac. The two men loved her unconditionally, and she had been pillar of strength for both of them. Claire could not deny her envy of the woman; even after her death, she couldn't help it. Isaac and Peter knew Simone before they'd known Claire existed. There was so much she didn't know about Simone, so Claire could only assume she was an amazing woman to hold the hearts of such amazing men.

She tiptoed quietly outside Simone's apartment. She looked around, noticing that people still lived on this floor despite the room being tagged for investigation. Hesitantly, she reached out her hand to open the doorknob, yet she stopped herself and realized she shouldn't leave fingerprints if the door was unlocked. She took off her small jacket and turned the knob with her sleeve. Luckily for her, the door was unlocked, and she wondered if that was a good sign that Peter had already been there.

After she had opened the door, Claire ducked under the middle line of police tape as she pushed it above her head. As she looked around the vacant apartment, an eerie feeling rose in her body and her blood ran cold. God, she hoped Peter was here; this place was creepy enough, and when she thought about it, she couldn't believe she was actually wandering around a dead woman's apartment.

"Hello?" she called out in a voice just above a whisper. She looked around, walking quietly through the living room and toward the kitchen. Claire noticed that Simone had lived lavishly, and her upscale apartment had screamed of a high-class life. Beautiful, loved, successful - those were definitely things that any woman would want, even Claire. She didn't feel bad about envying Simone; Claire knew she was still young and had plenty of time to have those things. She was already on her way; she'd already gained the love and respect of her uncle, and she was sure Isaac was learning to care for her as well.

'Isaac...' Thinking of the painter again interrupted her thoughts as she wandered around the apartment. Claire felt bad for leaving her dad and Isaac so abruptly. The more she thought about it, the more it was obvious that the two men had tried to explain things to her. Additionally, she wondered that maybe running away into streets when a killer was on the loose hadn't been such a good idea.

'A killer that would benefit the most from your power,' she told herself, and she froze as the room suddenly felt creepier. It was almost as if someone was watching her.

"Peter?" she asked, hoping that maybe her uncle was invisible in the shadows, waiting to reveal himself to her. But wouldn't he have done that already?

She quickened her pace, stepping back toward the door. The shadows on the wall loomed above her, suffocating her in black as clouds blanketed the moonlight outside the large window. She blinked her eyes, desperate for her night vision to kick in as shapes and movements manifested like monsters in her mind. Claire swallowed uncomfortably, reaching out her hand for the doorknob. She quickly glanced behind her to the shadows on the wall.

She froze when her hand touched a scratchy material rather than the metal from the knob. She turned around quickly, jumping back as a figure towered over her. Her eyes widened, and she knew she was in trouble. She cursed herself for running away. Idly she thought that she'd love to tell Isaac he was right all along, and that she was sorry for ignoring his warnings.

The figure smirked at her though the darkness, and he took a large step toward her. A shadow was cast over his face from the ball cap on his head, but she knew exactly who he was.

"Hello, Claire."

She moved backward, making contact with the wall. He kept coming after her, and she felt paralyzed, like there was nowhere for her to run.

Claire screamed.

--

As soon as Sylar had lifted his finger to make the incision in Claire's skull, he felt muzzy and began to sweat as he struggled to tap into his powers. For many times he could use them with ease, but some outside source was making this simple act much harder. He looked at Claire curiously, wondering if she was the reason his powers had stalled. She appeared as frightened as ever, and she seemed ignorant to what was going on. Was someone here using a different power against him? He looked around frantically, abandoning Claire momentarily as the door kicked opened and barely jumping out of the way as a bullet grazed his shoulder.

Sylar gritted his teeth, and he backed up toward Claire who was already on her feet, moving away from him. He met the gazes of a familiar meddler and a powerful tall dark-skinned man. He stared at the man who was obviously dampening his cognitive powers, and he started to lunge for him. Thankfully, he could still tap into his ice powers, and he planned to immobilize him to regain his telekinesis once more.

"Claire!" yelled Mr. Bennet, and suddenly she ran toward him. Anger swelled within him as his prey started getting away again. He would make them all pay in order to get to her.

"Dad!" she leapt into his arms, whispering apologies and crying against his chest. He stroked her hair and told her everything was going to be all right. Sylar glared at their interaction, silently vowing that he would make sure Claire never felt safe again.

He turned his attention back to the large man nullifying his powers, and he whipped his hand toward him, calling forth the ice. His opponent had barely dodged the blast, and he fell against Claire and her father farther into the art dealer's apartment. Sylar came toward them all as they moved away from him, and he tried to trap them inside, blocking the doorway to escape.

Claire's dad pointed his gun at him, yet Sylar moved back, unsure if his powers could dodge a bullet at this point. Bullets flew toward him and Sylar erected an ice shield in front of him. He blasted an onslaught of icicles at Bennet, knocking the gun away and piercing his hand. Claire screamed as her dad recoiled back from his injury. Sylar turned his attention back to Bennet's partner, and as the man started to come toward him, a rising headache became more painful as the man came closer. What was his power anyway? Sylar forced himself to deal with the pain, and all he could think about was how wonderful it would be to have this man's power once he killed him.

"Look out!" screamed Claire, and Bennet's associate barely dodged a large icicle aimed at his chest. He toppled over in pain as the ice shard stuck out of his shoulder. Sylar could feel his powers returning once the man had lost concentration. Confidently, Sylar walked out from behind his ice shield and sauntered over to them in their defeat. He had complete advantage over them now, and soon he would gain two powers and dispose of one his most hated enemies, Mr. Bennet.

"It's time to tell your father goodbye, Claire," Sylar said standing over them, and he used his returning telekinetic powers to immobilize both Bennet and his injured associate. Claire looked up at him in fear, and when he pointed his finger at her, she closed her eyes as she felt pain searing in her forehead.

This was it. She was never going to see Isaac or Peter again, nor was she going to be able to make up with her Dad and get to know her bio-dad. She was never going to see how Isaac's painting of her came into play.

Suddenly she heard a crack, and she opened an eye hesitantly to see what was going on. Sylar began doubling over in front of her, and his eyes widened as he was taken off guard from behind. He faltered, catching his balance and moving away toward the window to see who had come up behind him.

Claire's head shot up, and she met Isaac's gaze. He was holding a bat and smiling at her, appearing out of breath after running up the stairs to save her. Her mouth gaped, and she realized that Isaac had just saved all of their lives.

But they were still in danger; Sylar was disoriented, but he was still standing. Claire looked to her side, and her father and the Haitian were still propped against the wall with his power holding them back. She whipped her attention back at Isaac and saw him squaring off with Sylar, who glared at Isaac with fury.

"So you think you can be a hero?" Sylar lashed at him.

Isaac stood his ground, and he saw Claire in the corner of his eye. He motioned his hand and told her, "Claire, get them out of here. You need to get away. I'll hold him off as long as I can."

"What can you do! You're just a painter!" Sylar raged at him, his power coming back in full force. Claire screamed as Sylar threw Isaac against the wall. She stood up, looking to Sylar and Isaac. Isaac was barely conscious, shaking the stars from his eyes as Sylar came after him. Isaac hadn't really saved them; he had just prolonged their inevitable deaths.

And now he was in danger too.

'Oh, Isaac,' she thought mournfully. She understood him, now more than ever. Isaac had struggled for so long to be a hero in Simone's eyes. He had just wanted her to accept him for who he was. He wanted others to see that his gift had not been a curse but a means to help people. He just wanted people to see he could do more than just paint.

'I see that, Isaac," Claire thought, and suddenly vigor surged through her veins. She knew she had to do something. She couldn't always be the cheerleader who needed to be saved. And since Peter wasn't here, she had to step up herself.

Before Sylar could come toward Isaac, she sprinted toward him. He saw her moving in the corner of his eye, and he snapped his attention toward her. Before he could think, she had slammed into him, crashing them through the window with all her momentum. As she fell, she pushed down as hard she could, hoping gravity would help with the rest. She heard Isaac's protests from above as she fell, and she forced herself to ignore the sting of the glass that embedded into her skin.

Sylar was disoriented, and he yelped as they fell, trying to break free from her. She grabbed onto his shoulders hard and pushed them further down. When they finally made contact with the pavement, she lost her strength and blacked out over Sylar's unconscious body.

Her powers kicked in quickly, and when she came to, Sylar was groaning underneath her. She began to panic, and ignoring the pained cries of her bones and muscles, she leapt off his body and began to run away. She saw Isaac with her Dad and the Haitian coming out of the front entrance of the apartment building. Elation filled her body as she saw their alive faces, and she ran into Isaac's arms for a tight, relieved embrace.

"Claire!" And she felt both Isaac and her father embrace her, cocooning her in their body heat and strength. She could feel the love in their embrace, and she knew they had been scared for her, even when her body had completely healed.

Though when she turned around to warn them about Sylar, he was already gone.

"He escaped," she murmured, and the four of them looked into the distance down the dark streets of Manhattan.

"It's okay," Isaac said, running his fingers through her hair. "At least you're safe."

Claire turned to him, and she felt her father move back, balancing his injured friend and watching their interaction. Claire ignored the look on her father's face as she approached Isaac, but it was obvious she had feelings for the painter.

"You saved me. You came and saved me," Claire whispered, the words sounding incredible as they passed through her lips. She smiled at him and touched his cheek. "I knew you were a hero, Isaac."

Isaac gave her father a nervous glance and then fell back into her enamored eyes. "Yeah," he replied awkwardly. He began scratching the back of his head nervously, chuckling as she stared at him. He looked up at her and said resolutely, "Claire, after you left, I did a painting where he killed you. I knew I could never allow a future like that to come true."

She nodded, unsure what to say to him. He had saved her nobly, and she was sure there weren't any words that existed the world to express her gratitude. She only wished she could thank him without using words.

"I need to take care of our injuries. There's a contact I have in a local Catholic Hospital," Mr. Bennet chimed in, interrupting their moment. Isaac met the man's gaze, and noticed that he had put a tight squeeze on his shoulder. "Please, Mr. Mendez, take her somewhere safe and protect her. Call Petrelli and make sure he knows the situation so he can help her."

Isaac nodded. "I understand."

Before Mr. Bennet could limp off with his partner, Claire stopped him and gave him a giant hug. "Dad, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I ran away." She hugged her father tightly, and reveled in his scent, the fatherly scent that she had missed for too long. "I promise I won't ever run away from you again."

"I know, Claire-bear. I know," he told her soothingly.

"I love you, Dad."

"I love you too." And as she watched her father and the Haitian leave to hail a cab, Isaac took her hand and squeezed it tightly. She turned around and looked at his gentle face. He looked relieved and content that she was okay. He tugged at her arm to follow him down the street, and she looked at him curiously.

"Come on, I'm going to take you back to my place. Then we're going to call Nathan. I'll have him send over some protection."

"Okay," she agreed, but she still seemed bothered by something. She looked anxiously at the shadows on the New York streets and then asked him, "Isaac, do you think he'll come back?"

Isaac paused and then he gave her an honest reply. "I think as long as he's alive he'll always come back, Claire. But now he's injured, and the next time, we'll be ready for him." He gave her a hopeful smile and squeezed her hand reassuringly. "Even if I have to paint a million paintings, I'll do my part and be ready to take him down."

Claire bounced with excitement, releasing his hand and taking his arm, pulling him closer to her. "And I'll be right there beside you."

To Be Continued...