Heroes Fan Fiction ❯ Girl in the Painting ❯ Chapter Eleven ( Chapter 11 )

AN: This is an AU from the episode “Distractions”. Isaac stays alive in my story!

 

Girl in the Painting

Chapter Eleven

Isaac bent down and trailed soft kisses down the nape of Claire's neck as she helped him on his latest comic. She giggled heartily at his touch, dropping the eraser and turning around to meet his mouth with an eager kiss.

"Mmm..." she moaned, pulling away from him and caressing a finger down his arm. He stared at her so intensely it gave her shivers. The way Isaac looked at her made her feel like he was ready to put her on private display and admire her forever. Though, in his eyes, she could see he was troubled, no doubt from her upcoming trip.

He took her hand into his and leaned his forehead against hers. "So you're off to Paris tomorrow." Claire made a noise of affirmation and then entwined her fingers with his. "I'll miss you."

"I know; I'll miss you too. Are you coming to the airport tomorrow?" When he didn't answer right away, Claire tacked on, "Even if Peter's going to be there?"

She saw Isaac grimace as he looked at her sheepishly. "You know I wouldn't miss it. Hopefully you're valiant uncle won't put me in a stretcher before I can say goodbye."

Claire wrapped her arms gently around him and nudged his nose with hers. "Now you know I wouldn't let that happen. Remember the last time you two fought over me?"

Isaac chuckled nervously, knowing she was joking and feeling slightly nauseous that she'd gone to the extreme to hurt herself to stop their petty fight. He didn't want to even 'think' about her other implication with that statement. Seeing his attention diverted, Claire cocked her head to the right and smiled flirtatiously at him. She leaned in for a light kiss, and when their lips touched, his excitement flared, and he pushed her against his kitchen counter, hugging her in a tight embrace.

"Mmm..." he moaned, releasing her lips and then rubbing her sides with his strong hands. Claire's face flushed, and she rocked against him appearing to want more.

"You know, the age of consent in France is 15..." Claire remarked in between kisses on his jaw.

Isaac raised an eyebrow and looked at her mischievously. "Oh... some one's been doing her homework." Claire's face turned a brighter red causing Isaac to chuckle again. She ran her fingers through his hair, and he felt his skin tingle.

Finally he sighed with a smile and said, "God, Claire, you know that the consent thing isn't the only thing holding me back..."

She nodded against him, kissing his jaw again. He exhaled heavily against her. "Not counting that your uncle would probably kill me for taking you right now..." Claire became embarrassed, and Isaac continued, "But I wanted to take things slow, for your sake."

"It's all been so surreal," he confessed. "I never imagined I'd ever find someone like you. I thought once Simone left me for Peter, I had nothing. And then Bennet came and only wanted to use me for my talents, I seriously started to question my existence. I even started to think I wasn't good enough to be a hero like Peter."

"Hey, don't say that," Claire said, pulling back from him to give him a fierce look.

"Oh, I don't think that anymore." His arms wrapped tighter around her, and instinctively she wrapped her legs around him, bucking into him. He moaned against her and said, "If it wasn't for you, I would let Sylar come right through that door and kill me. You give me a reason to hope for a brighter destiny, Claire."

He paused, locking gazes with her. She took in the features of his face, and her smile turned soft and full of awe. "Isaac..." she murmured. And suddenly, he was picking her up and carrying in his arms.

"You have to leave in a few hours right?" he asked, knowing she'd have to go home soon and pack. Claire nodded to his question, yet she was unsure what he meant by carrying her like this. Isaac felt her body tense against him, and he looked at her reassuringly. "Don't worry. It's not what you think."

Claire replied hesitantly, "You mean we're not going to...?"

Isaac shook his head right away and smiled. "No." His eyes shined at her. "I just want to hold you until you go away."

Claire was touched, and she leaned close to hug him tighter. She rested her head under the crook of his jaw, and she relished in his scent filling up her nose. When he set her on the bed, she immediately turned to him, wrapping her arms around him and kissing him. He ran his fingers through her hair, and settled a hand on the small of her back as she squirmed against him.

It took everything in his power to control himself, so for Claire's sake; he tried to behave by being chaste. With her body moving against his, physically begging for more, he stilled himself just to hold her tighter. Her soft breathing muted his urges, and as the time for her to leave drew nearer, he relished every minute that she was in his arms.

--

The next morning, Isaac woke up early, missing the feeling of Claire next to him already. She had stayed for a little while in his arms in the afternoon yesterday, and they both had been reluctant to let go of each other so she could go home and pack.

He rose out of his bed, wiping the sleep from his eyes and adjusting his vision. Sunlight filtered through the windows of his studio, warming the air. He looked around and couldn't help smile at the state of his studio, clean and tidy and ringing of Claire's presence. He opened the refrigerator to find left over bean soup that Claire made for him to 'get him by' so he wouldn't starve while she was gone. He opened the container and scooped out a cold bite, and made a noise of pleasure as the spices surged on his taste buds - and all he could visualize was Claire stirring the soup in the pot, smiling at him and warning him to not steal a taste before it was done.

"Claire..." he said aloud, and he felt almost silly that he was acting like such a love-sick puppy by mere memory of her. He couldn't remember the last time he felt so enamored and in love with someone.

He put the soup back in the fridge and sauntered over to the paintings that filled his loft. He knew that as the day started, he'd have to get back to work and help with clues to the future - mainly pertaining to Peter and Sylar. And although he knew these things were important, all he could do was think about Claire in Paris without him.

"Damn..." he said under his breath, and his eyes fell upon the painting of him with his head sliced open as it hid behind another stack of paintings before him. He had hidden it from Claire's view, and he felt guilty for not telling her about it. Pulling it out, he looked over the painting and frowned. Was this truly his destiny?

In another world, he might have set all the paintings of his death out, playing the waiting game as he executioner waltzed through the door. If all he had was himself and his gift, he'd probably let Sylar kill him.

But that wasn't the case any longer. Isaac had Claire, and she was like a new discovery - a gilded fork in his path that beckoned him to explore. Would he give up and offer himself to Sylar without another thought for his own life? Did he really have to lie down and meet the cold stare of destiny?

Suddenly, Isaac kicked his foot through the painting, and he decided to refuse it all. He'd refuse to offer himself up for Sylar. He had fought him so hard already, and with Claire waiting for him in Paris, he didn't want to give up and let her live on without him.

For once, he wanted to be selfish.

Flinging the ruined painting aside, Isaac prepared a fresh white canvass and brought out his media. He paused, letting the power take over his senses as he picked up the brush, ready to glide it across the surface. He felt a cold rush, and his core felt hollow, and suddenly he felt it completely consume him - brush dancing over canvass as the future came alive.

Isaac couldn't guess how long he'd been under the influence of his prophetic skills, but when he came to the sun was setting and casting a soft orange light into his studio, creating many looming shadows. He blinked several times, and when his gaze fell on his freshly painted prophecies, he sighed in relief.

Smiling earnestly, Isaac leaned back and ran his fingers through his hair. Now he knew just what he had to do.

--

Peter had scowled at Isaac most of the time while Claire said goodbye at the airport. He had watched Isaac and Claire hold hands and exchange suggestive glances, and Nathan even had to hold him back when Claire leaned into Isaac and gave him one last fiery kiss before departing. When Claire had hugged Peter and Nathan goodbye, Isaac gave Peter a bemused stare, not at all concerned anymore that Peter was so close to Claire.

Nathan had ducked out quickly before Claire left, not willing to stick around to talk to Meredith or show his face in public around Claire much longer. Claire was grateful, at least, that he had shown up at all, and it was showing he was having some gumption on how to be a better father to her. Noah Bennet and his associate were there too, and Claire was relieved and grateful things with her adopted father - her real father - were back to normal again. She'd even heard her dad talking to Meredith about taking Claire back once they came back from Paris after Nathan's election. Meredith had warmed to the idea, saying she'd like to visit Mexico again but would be more comfortable if she were on her own. Claire, honestly, was fine with that decision, and she looked forward to seeing her brother and mother again soon.

She and Isaac would just have to work out their relationship later if she ended up moving back to Texas. Isaac wasn't worried, and he reassured her they'd cross that bridge when they got there.

"I'll miss you," she said, giving him one last hug. Isaac held her, his eyes sparkling with confidence as he felt Peter's eyes continue to watch them from behind.

"You already said that," Isaac said, chuckling and leaning his forehead against hers. "Several times, actually."

Claire giggled lightly, and she traced a finger down his cheek. "Well, I mean it."

Isaac cupped her face in his hands and said, "I know, but don't worry. We'll see each other again sooner than you think."

Claire smiled heartily. "I doubt it. This week is going to seem like an eternity without you." She gave him a grim stare. "Be careful, Isaac." Her eyes darted to Peter and back to Isaac. "You know what I mean."

He kissed her temple as she began to draw away. The last call for boarding her plan rang over the loudspeaker. When her fingers fell out of his, she gave him a backward glance and smiled. "Take care." And she walked slowly down the walkway to her plane.

As she walked away, Isaac continued to stand there to watch her, and he realized that Peter wasn't budging either. Isaac turned around, and he gave Peter a smarmy smirk before heading toward the airport bar.

"You know, I'm not sure if you're good enough for her yet," Peter had said to him before he was out of ear shot.

Isaac stopped, was silent for a moment and then he responded. "Well, that isn't for you to decide, is it?" Isaac gave him a warning look. "Move on, Peter. Do us all a favor and move on. There are other things in your life you should be worrying about."

Peter crossed his arms, miffed that Isaac would dare chide him. "Such as?”

“Such as trying to find a way not to destroy millions of people," Isaac replied to him. He saw Peter frown, knowing that he was right. Isaac walked away, and this time, Peter said nothing. Isaac glanced backward, and Peter was gone. He hoped the man had sense to leave it at that and finish whatever training was going to subvert this disaster.

For Isaac, it didn't concern him so much anymore. He patted the airline ticket in his back jean pocket and smiled before sitting down and ordering a drink. In a couple of hours, he'd be boarding his flight too - following Claire across the Atlantic to the most romantic city on earth.

And with that, he'd snub Destiny this time so he could be with Claire.

--

His body was still sore, and he continued to curse the cheerleader and her friends who had done this to him. For days now, he had a difficult time walking, but he was grateful for his vitality - attributing his fast recovery from a high agility ability he'd stolen not too long ago.

As soon as Sylar was mobile and well enough to stand, he knew that vengeance was in order, and he'd come after the easiest one to take. The painter had a useful skill that he'd been meaning to acquire, and he'd assume the painter who predicted the future knew it was inevitable he'd come for him anyway.

He arrived at Isaac's studio, expecting him to be there painting away. Instead, he found himself in a lifeless, empty atmosphere with no sign of anyone. Although this angered Sylar, he resolved himself into waiting for Isaac's return, assured that the painter had just stepped out for an errand or a quick walk. To occupy himself, Sylar began walking around the studio, studying Isaac's prophetic paintings.

When he came to a set of certain paintings, he frowned, and he knew the painted would not come back so soon. He looked down at his feet to a discarded canvass, obviously ruined by an object that had punched through it. On the painting, Isaac was depicted just the way he was supposed to be, sliced up and ready for Sylar's taking. However, it appeared by his empty loft that the painter had run away. By the other paintings, it seemed wherever the cheerleader was hiding, the painter had run away with her.

In those paintings Sylar couldn't tell where they were hiding. The foreground of the paintings was full of their own portraits, depicting them in a loving embrace. The only background Sylar could see was a sunlit garden, with tree branches framing them from the back.

They could be anywhere - any heavenly retreat, for all Sylar knew they were in sunny California or even Florida. They could even be in a different country.

Sylar grunted, pacing around the studio with his anger beginning to flare. His powers surged through his anger, and many of Isaac's paintings began flinging around, crashing into things. Soon, Sylar had created a whirlwind of psycho kinetic power that caused destruction throughout the entire studio.

Sylar soon made his way to the door, not willing to waste anymore time here. Isaac and the cheerleader might be gone, but he'd come for them eventually.

After all, they couldn't hide forever.

--

Claire sat on her large hotel bed and stared at the ceiling. She'd been debating with herself for awhile on where in Paris she should go next. She hated the idea of going alone, and Meredith had already disappeared that first hour they'd settled into their hotel. Her mother had told her that she was looking up an old friend, and she gave Claire permission to do what she wanted at the hotel, mentioning the pool and other activities Claire could engage in.

However, Claire thought Paris was too spectacular of a city to stay cooped up in some hotel. It was also a very romantic city, and a lot of things were best done with a companion. She frowned, and she wished that Isaac was here.

And the more she thought of him, the more time she took up staring at the ceiling and daydreaming about him.

Her silent daydreaming was soon interrupted by a loud annoying ring from the room phone, and she looked at the ID number curiously before picking it up. It was the lobby calling, and she hoped that Meredith hadn't forgotten her key.

"Yes?" Claire answered, and she heard the thickly-accented receptionist sternly address her on the other line.

"Mademoiselle Bennet, you 'av a guest in zee lobby who iz expecting you."

"Oh, really? Is it my mom? Is it a blond woman?"

"No, it iz ah man. Are you expecting?"

Claire paused, and her blood ran cold. She really wasn't expecting anyone, and she had no idea who it could be. Was there a possibility that it was Sylar? Did he follow her here to Paris? She bit her lip.

"Uh... well," she said nervously. "That depends on the man." She heard the receptionist snort in the other line. "Could you describe him for me?”

 

“`E iz medium height, curly 'air, and speaks beautiful French for an American. 'E alzo smells like ... ah... 'ow do you say... oil paint?"

Claire gasped. She almost forgot to speak in the phone before dashing off. "Thank you! I'll be right down."

She threw the phone down onto its receiver and grabbed her key. She dashed down the hallway, and she couldn't even wait for the elevator, so she made her way to the stairs. Claire was thankful they were only on the fourth floor, and she began running excitedly down to the lobby.

When she came down, she stopped, looking around frantically for any sign of Isaac. She heard movement behind her and turned slowly around.

"Hey," he said, grinning at her. She looked at him with wide eyes, and she felt she was dreaming. He was leaning against the hotel window as sunlight shined around him.

"Isaac... you came..." she whispered, and elation filled her voice. She spun around, and he caught her as she jumped into his arms.

He released her enough so he could look into her face. He said, "I had to, Claire. I couldn't just stay there without you. It might have been my destiny to paint, but I..."

Isaac kissed her quickly and rested his head against hers. "I don't care so much about destiny anymore, not if it doesn't involve you."

She fell back from his embrace and took his hand in hers. She smiled and drew him toward the door. "Destiny isn't set in stone, Isaac. It is what you make of it." She paused, and he squeezed her hand. "I'm glad you came."

"Me too.”

 

“So!" she said in a chipper voice, excited now that he was here. With Meredith gone wherever and Isaac here, she knew that she could finally enjoy this Parisian sabbatical. Her eyes gleamed with felicity and she asked him, "So how long are you here?"

"As long as you're here," Isaac replied, a seductive sparkle in his eyes.

Claire laughed and pulled him along. They exited the hotel and looked at the bustle of the Paris streets before finding each other's gazes again. They were together, alone in a city full of love, art and fantasy. Isaac pulled her closer, and Claire leaned into him, a perfect fit against his body.

Claire looked up at him, gazing at him with flirtatious eyes and swaying her hips into him suggestively. "So, now that you're here, what do you want to do first?"