Heroes Fan Fiction ❯ Hecate's Serendipity ❯ Oneshot ( Chapter 1 )

Hecate's Serendipity

 

After the Explosion -- Two and a half years later

 

"Our Texas contact is meeting you at a place called the Burnt Toast Cafe," Hiro informed them, his eyes tracing back and forth to Sparrow Redhouse and Peter Petrelli. "Peter, you go with Sparrow when she meets him. Stay out of sight, but keep an eye out for any thing suspicious. Bennet's contacts may run through this place, but word is so does Homeland Security."

 

Sparrow and Peter looked at each other in affirmation, expressions rigid as the mission solidified in their thoughts.

 

"This contact has information on a new facility holding 'Specials'?" Sparrow asked.

 

Hiro answered grimly, "Yes, unfortunately this contact is so spooked about compromised channels he will only meet us in person." He sighed. "I tried to convince him that meeting in person was more dangerous, but he wouldn't have it."

 

"This place... the Burnt Toast Cafe, I remember it," Peter mused. He caught Hiro's pained expression.

 

"That place holds a lot of memories for me," Hiro said, thinking of the red-headed waitress he'd met many years ago. It'd been where he was supposed to first meet up with Peter to save the cheerleader. To him, the place was pinnacle, but it might not have been that way for others. "I wonder why he picked the Burnt Toast."

 

"It's just as well. The place is pretty obscure." Sparrow shrugged. "It's just a diner. Homeland Security lives off the fat, so it's not really their main hang-out. It's just not high-class enough." Peter glanced with amusement at Hiro. It was so like Sparrow to always find a way to take a jab at the government.

 

"Enough talk," Hiro finally ordered. "We get this Intel and we get out. Fast." He shot a hard look at Peter. "Peter, no lingering."

 

"Why are you scolding me?" Peter asked, offended. Hiro gave him a wry smile.

 

"No reason," Hiro said smirking mysteriously. "I just know you."

 

Peter scoffed, and he turned heel to follow Sparrow out of their hideout. His image shimmered as he turned invisible behind her.

 

"I think Hiro really meant it about you not dawdling," Sparrow shot back at him. Peter didn't respond. "He must know something we don't."

 

Peter rolled his eyes, but Sparrow couldn't see it. "Hiro always knows something we don't. I wonder about his friendship with Bennet sometimes." He pursed his lips and side-stepped a rock that Sparrow jumped over.

 

"Yeah," Sparrow agreed. The reflection of moonlight bled onto her ebony hair, and Peter became entranced by it as he followed her. Sparrow's words broke him out of a daze. "I never trusted that guy from the start, but Hiro sees something in him."

 

Peter stopped, and Sparrow heard the halted motion behind her. She turned, and Peter became instantly visible. He looked up at the clear night sky.

 

"The diner has to be fifteen miles from here. Do you want to get there a little faster?" He grinned at her boyishly. Sparrow smiled and shook her head.

 

"What's the matter, Petrelli? Afraid of a little brisk evening stroll?" Sparrow smirked at him, and Peter pouted.

 

"No, I just want to make the meeting in time." Peter watched Sparrow's expression, who cocked one eyebrow at him curiously. Peter wondered if she could read him so easily. Of course, he wanted to pursue the mission swiftly, but Hiro's strange behavior about the diner piqued his interest. Just what was he not telling them?

 

"Don't worry. We'll make it in time. Besides..." She quickly jabbed him in the arm playfully. "All that flying around or speed-running could attract unwanted attention. And rumor is the government has developed teleportation monitors, so we can't risk it. You know this well enough."

 

Peter sighed in exasperation. "Now you sound like Hiro." Sparrow turned around and continued to walk, chuckling at him. As they heard a car come down the highway, Sparrow put her black hood over her head, and Peter turned invisible next to her. They walked in silence the rest of the way, both wondering about the context behind Hiro's words.

 

--

 

No one at the diner knew her real name was really Claire Bennet. Not even Andy knew, and it'd probably be awhile before she even told him. They had gone one a few dates, and Claire found him really cute. She felt she could really get to like him; it was only tragic she couldn't be straight with him on who she really was - or what she really was. But everyone knew her as Sandra, and that was the way it was going to be. Her dad had pulled a lot of strings to put her in hiding, and Claire would make a new life and not let him down. Every day he was risking his life, not just for her.

 

"More coffee?" she drawled at the lonely, middle-aged man sitting at the counter, fumbling nervously at his briefcase. Claire wondered if it was even a good idea to give him more coffee. He seemed anxious enough already. He looked up at her with weepy old eyes that spoke of hardship and tragedy. She empathized, knowing just how he felt.

 

He nodded, and his eyes roamed over her body as some light returned to his eyes. "Thanks, hon."

 

Claire beamed at him with another cheery smile and moved over to the next customer, old Bill, who always came to the diner about this time to finish up the remnants of their lunchtime special soup. Tonight was quiet, and with the exception of old Bill, the nervous guy, and a couple of love birds in the corner, the diner seemed empty with only the cook and the assistant manager to keep her company. Thursday nights were always slow. She smiled slightly. The less people she had to deal with, the better. Living alone in hiding was still somewhat new to her.

 

Her thoughts shattered apart when the bell of the front door chimed, and a young, slender Native American woman walked through, eyeing the place quickly and moving toward the front. Claire clicked on the coffee machine after refilling the filter and watched her take a seat next to the nervous guy. She didn't say anything at first, and she shot a look toward Claire.

 

Claire smiled automatically. "Can I get you some coffee?"

 

The young woman shook her head. "Herbal tea, if you have it."

 

Claire nodded, turning around to dig under the counter for the tea packets. Suddenly, she felt a funny tingle on the back of her neck. Surprised, she turned around, but nothing unusual was there. The young woman was already striking up the nervous guy in a quiet conversation. They must have known each other, and Claire wondered if they were meeting for a blind date. She smiled at the thought, but something was still nagging her senses from the shadows.

 

--

 

At the moment he saw her, Peter understood why Hiro had chastised him before the mission.

 

He couldn't believe his eyes at first, and he had to blink twice and squint just to make out the resemblance. Relieved and aghast, he was convinced it wasn't an illusion.

 

'Claire...' he thought, and immediately, he walked around the counter and stood next to her, his eyes traveling down her form and reigniting his old, sacred memories of her.

 

He thought she was dead.

 

Suddenly, Claire turned around, her eyes filled with surprise. She turned her head to where he was standing and looked right through him. What he wouldn't give to become visible and run up to her, hug her and celebrate in her life. But he couldn't; he had to heed Hiro's words and acquire the Intel smoothly. The contact was spooked enough, and he didn't want to abandon Sparrow by herself.

 

Against his urges, he walked back around the counter and stood behind Sparrow, keeping an eye on anyone suspicious. Quickly, Peter saw Sparrow take the briefcase from the man, and she held it to her side. Peter reached out and grabbed the handle, quickly making the case as invisible as he was.

 

"Thank you, we'll be in touch," Sparrow said, slipping a wad of bills in the man's oversized coat pocket. As Sparrow prepared to leave, something held Peter back, and he spun around, watching Claire tally receipts at the register. When she was distracted, Peter grabbed a pen and one receipt, and scribbled on the back of it, putting it back in its place.

 

He only hoped that Claire would receive the message.

 

He turned around and sprinted out the door. Sparrow was waiting for him, and she was whispering, trying to get his attention. "Peter, are you there?"

 

Peter spoke but remained invisible. "Yeah, I got it."

 

"Well, let's go then. We're done here."

 

Peter was quiet, and he pursed his lips. The Texas night air seemed colder than usual. The sky was black as pitch, the stars barely shining to a dim.

 

"You go on ahead. I need to take care of something."

 

Sparrow scoffed. "So Hiro was right." She turned around and met a fully-visible Peter with an annoyed expression. "You do know it's more dangerous if I carry that case by myself down the highway?"

 

"I'll rush you there, low and fast, and then come back." Peter came close to Sparrow and said in a low voice. "Sparrow, I need this. There's someone in there I haven't seen in years. Someone I thought was dead."

 

Sparrow cocked her head curiously at him. "Peter, I understand where you're coming from. We need to see the ones we love as much as we can in this world. However, we have a mission." Her dark sepia eyes bore into him. "Tomorrow we move for Sacramento to the hidden internment camp. We leave at 0500. You're one of our best operatives. We can't allow you wandering around."

 

"I know, Sparrow." Peter's voice was tense and stubborn. "I'll be back before we head out. This won't take long." He paused, and he turned his head to glance back at the inside of the diner. "It's just a small family reunion, you could say."

 

He turned back to Sparrow, who finally sighed reluctantly in agreement. "Alright." And as soon as the words were out of her mouth, Peter grabbed her and zipped her back to camp, hurrying back just the same way as before.

 

--

 

Boring. That was what Claire thought about counting her drawer at night.

 

The receipts lay out in front of her, and she scrunched her face in frustration when she realized she was four dollars short. She hated being short without explanation, so she rehashed over her numbers and started all over again.

 

She blew out a harsh sigh, groaning as some of the receipts fell off the counter from the breeze. She bent down to pick them up, and her eye suddenly caught something written on the back of one of them.

 

'Claire, Meet me in the back of the diner. - P.'

 

Claire's throat went dry. No one called her Claire anymore. No one.

 

She felt tightness in her stomach. Was she in danger? Who was this P. person?

 

Gritting her teeth, she went to the front of the store and pulled out the bottom shelf under the register. She picked up the .45 hidden under the papers, and cocked the gun. Whoever was trying to lure her out wouldn't last long enough to ruin the beginning of her new life. She would fight for the protection her father gave her. At all costs.

 

Cautiously, she walked to the kitchen, slinking past her coworkers and exiting the back door. She shut the door as normally as she could without attracting attention, and she spun around and lifted up the gun. Her hands were shaking, and her voice jumbled in her throat.

 

"Who's there?" Claire asked with fright. She swallowed hard, furrowed her brow, and felt fire rage in her belly. "Come out and show yourself now!"

 

In the air, she heard chuckling, which scared her even more. She spun around, and someone had tugged the gun free from her grasp. A warm body fell flush against hers, and threw the gun over her shoulder. She looked up, terrified that she had failed and walked right into the enemy's arms.

 

But then she saw his eyes.

 

"P...Peter?" And everything became clear: the familiar sensation when she felt someone watching her, the stellar powers of invisibility, and the note that ended with a 'P'.

 

"Claire..." His voice was smooth and longing and it made her knees weak. Tears brimmed in her eyes, and her arms fell loosely to her sides as he scooped her up in a tight embrace.

 

"I thought you were dead," she sobbed, her arms snaking around him and soaking in his warmth.

 

He ran his fingers through her dark hair. "Yeah, I thought you were too. I thought..." He sighed and rested his chin on her head.

 

Suddenly, she pulled away from him, panic in her eyes. "You shouldn't be here! It's dangerous! No one knows who I am, Peter. I'm in hiding!" She glanced nervously to the exit door, hoping her coworkers wouldn't walk in on them.

 

Peter mirrored her concern, and he took her hand. "Then I'll take you somewhere where no one will bother us. Where do you live?"

 

"Peter, please," Claire said, and she wasn't sure if it was a good idea if Peter came to her place either.

 

"Claire, I need to see you. For years I thought you were dead and now I found you," he pleaded, cupping her face with his strong hands. She shivered as her eyes roamed over his scar. She lifted a shaky hand to touch it.

 

"Why ... why didn't you heal this?" she asked him, and his eyes closed as he felt her touch.

 

"I thought... I thought you were dead, that I killed you in the explosion." He drew her hand away from his face and turned away. "I didn't want it to heal."

 

Claire studied him. He had really changed since the last time she'd seen him. He was different - almost dark and menacing, yet somewhere inside him, a sad, hopeful soul was struggling to reach out.

 

And she had known him before the darkness, and she longed to see that Peter again. But this Peter was enough - he was alive, and some days that was all she ever wanted.

   

Peter looked up as Claire took his hand. She smiled softly. "My apartment is just a few blocks away. If we're not seen going there together, I think it'll be okay."

 

Peter pulled her close, but she disengaged his grip. "I have to finish my shift, and then I'll meet you out here in ten minutes, okay?"

 

Peter nodded, and as she disappeared back into the diner, those ten minutes seemed like an eternity.

 

--

 

Claire's apartment was simple and homey, decorated with old pictures of bland, sunny landmarks from all over Texas. There were no pictures of family, and Peter was sure Claire was careful to hide them in fear of endangering her newfound life.

 

"Here, I made you some coffee," she said, putting a red mug down in front of him as he lingered over her dining room table.

 

"Thanks," he said, picking up the mug and taking a sip. He wasn't really in the mood for coffee. All he was in the mood for was Claire. He stared at her again, still awestruck that she was alive.

 

"What... what have you been doing, Peter? You're not," Claire stuttered and paused. "You're not still in touch with your brother?"

 

His brother. And her father. The air felt stiff between them. It was a sore subject for both.

 

"No, you could say we're not being very brotherly anymore." Peter's eyes were hard and conflicted. "Claire, do you watch the news?"

 

"Um... I try to watch as little as possible." She shifted uncomfortably in front of his scrutiny. "I can't watch when Nathan is on or anything that involves our people. It ... sickens me."

 

"So then that's why you didn't know of me." Peter picked up the coffee and took another sip. It was strong, stronger than he was used to. The blend seemed appropriate for their conversation.

 

"Know of you? You're on the news?"

 

"Well, you could say that." Peter's smile was wicked; it was a look Claire had never seen before. Peter sat down in her sofa and leaned comfortably against the soft cushions. "Claire, I'm a terrorist. I'm wanted and on the run."

 

Claire visibly tensed, and her eyes went wide with fear. Peter was a bad guy? She couldn't believe it.

 

"Why..." She didn't even know how she could approach him on this. She swallowed uncomfortably. "What have you done that makes you a terrorist?"

 

He smiled wolfishly. "We help people hide, like us." Claire relaxed, smiling. It was just like Peter to help people, even if the government had sanctions against it. He added, "Sometimes we butt heads with Homeland Security. Apparently, they don't like us helping 'dangerous' people with abilities or freeing innocents held in secret internment camps." Peter gazed down into the darkness in his coffee and frowned. "This country isn't about freedom anymore. You know that. Especially, not for people like us."

 

"So that's why you don't talk to your brother anymore." Claire's expression turned. "I don't blame you."

 

"And Nathan hasn't tried to find you?"

 

"He thinks I'm dead, and I want him to," Claire said, lifting her chin. "I can't forgive him for what he's done. Not even if he is my father."

 

Peter leaned in and put a hand over hers. "He's not really your father, Claire. Think of Noah."

 

Claire laughed lightly, and her sad eyes brightened when she thought of her dad. "I miss him. Everyday I miss him. But I can't see him. He's done so much for me. He gave me this new life." She sniffled, her voice wavering. "I hate hiding, Peter. I hate this world."

 

Immediately, Peter got up from his chair and came to her, pulling her into his arms. He furrowed his brow, and she continued to sob against his chest.

 

"Come with me, Claire," he said softly, and suddenly her crying stopped. He heard her gasp.

 

"What?"

 

He pulled her tighter against him. "Come with me and help. You can fight with us."

 

"But Peter..." Her anguished eyes shimmered at him. "It's still hiding."

 

"But you'll be with me. I'll protect you."

 

 "Peter," she said, then sighing. "You can't always protect me. And what good will I do? I can't help anyone else. I can only heal myself."

 

"That doesn't matter. You're my family." He pulled her away and drew her face into his hands. She closed her eyes as his forehead rubbed against hers. "You're all I have left, Claire. I don't want to lose you again."

 

And as he begged her, she found herself having a hard time resisting his pleas. But she knew she couldn't. It was too dangerous, and it wasn't the normal life her father had worked so hard to give her.

 

The tears couldn't stop now. "I can't, Peter. I can't! It's too dangerous." His face fell as she held back. "My father sacrificed so much so I could have this life. I know it's still hiding, but it's all I have. I can't just throw it away." Her hands gripped his arms. "Listen, I've met someone. I'm starting over here. Even though I've had to run and hide, I'm finally happy!"

 

Peter froze when she mentioned someone else. He felt foolish for thinking so selfishly. Claire was right. Bennet had pulled a lot of strings to hide her, so much that Peter didn't even know she was here. And now Claire had the beginning of a new life? He couldn't just yank that away from her just because he wanted to be with her.

 

He guessed that Hiro would quickly protest the idea. "She's more in danger with us than under Bennet's protection. She'd get in the way of your judgment. I need you at full force, Peter. It's bad enough you've got that Niki woman hanging on you." And Hiro would be right, and Peter suspected that Hiro knew of Claire's whereabouts all along.

 

"Claire..."

 

"Peter, I love you." Her words stung, and he felt that they were true. "But you're my past, Peter." She looked around her apartment. "This is my future."

 

"I know. I'm sorry. It was wrong to ask that of you." Peter smiled crookedly at her, and Claire beamed at him. "For what it's worth, I love you too." Claire's eyes shined as if she already knew that. But there was so much more to it that he was afraid to reveal. He sighed, and Claire noticed that he was troubled. "More than you should ever know." And he rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

 

"Hey... it's okay; I understand. You're my hero, remember?" She placed a comforting hand on his arm. She looked away, her cheeks turning pink. "There were many times I loved you so much I hated being your niece."

 

Peter's head snapped to her, surprised by the confession. "You hated ...?" Peter exhaled in relief. "Thank God," he bemoaned. Claire shot him a perplexed look. "For a moment there, I was starting to feel like a pervert."

 

"It doesn't have to be like that, you know? It's a bond, and we can't help what direction it takes us." Claire followed him as he sat back down into the sofa, sinking into the cushions. She leaned her head against his shoulder, and he slung his arm around her, pulling her close.

 

"I always felt that way too, but still ...” Peter relaxed against her. “It seemed wrong sometimes."

 

Claire didn't answer him at first, and instead, she reveled in the feeling of his body leaning against hers. It'd been so long since she'd seen his smile or felt his warmth. She turned her head and buried her nose in his shoulder. She murmured against him, "There's so much wrong in this world already. Things like this don't really matter anymore." She laughed, and he kissed the top of her head.

 

"You're leaving for your mission in the morning?"

 

Peter nodded. "Bright and early." He saw disappointment darken her face again. "But I'm staying with you as long as I can."

 

"Through the night?"

 

"Yes." He was turning her toward him, settling her into his lap. Claire traced her hands down Peter's muscles, hidden underneath his large coat. She tugged at his collar.

 

"Good," she said, her green eyes clouding as he looked into them. Light hands pushed away his coat, diving under the fabric and caressing the thin material over his skin.

 

Peter stiffened to her touch, and he watched her stealthily. "Claire, do you ...”

 

"I'm sorry," she whispered, pulling her hands away. Swiftly, Peter grabbed them, returning them to his chest.

 

"Don't be," he said with a low voice. He pulled her body flush against his, and he felt Claire's warm erratic breath tingle his skin.

 

As she squirmed slightly over his lap, he quickly pushed his lips to hers. He was light at first, sensing her caution. Tenacious hands tugged at his coat, and he drove his tongue in farther as she freed his chest to rub her hands on him.  

 

"Peter," she moaned with a breathy sigh, and his hands gripped her hips, guiding her closer to him, settling her onto his heat.

 

"Oh, God ... " He broke away from her mouth, trailing kisses down her neck, sucking on her pulse. Claire moaned. "So long." And she bucked urgently against him, and he put his hands under her backside, lifting her up, tugging at her skirt. She abandoned his body for a moment, helping him and flinging her clothes away. He traced his hands down her ripe breasts, lightly. She shivered in his hands, pushing them eagerly into his grasp.

 

Scars littered his body, but her skin was bronzed, soft, and flawless. He pushed her against the wall, and she wrapped her legs around him. Her mouth returned to his hungrily, biting his lip, teasing his tongue. He made a growl in her mouth that vibrated against the walls of her throat. He slid a hand between them, jiggling the zipper of his pants. The buckle of his belt clanged against the floor as his pants fell.

 

She was flush against him again, her heat rubbing his, the hardened arousal scraping eagerly against her skin.

 

It had been so long. Her Peter. He was her Peter. She was his Claire.

 

"Oh!" she yowled, and he had already pushed inside her, slamming her back against the wall. She giggled because it hurt, and Peter's eyes were so dark, and his breath sounded like an animalistic hiss. He rammed into her, pistoning his hips, burning into her slick skin.

 

And God, he filled her - full, pumping her with steel gorged with blood - their blood; the life force they shared, the DNA that surged with their unique abilities.

 

"Harder and more," she begged, and her head spun in ecstasy as he grunted and slammed into her, biting her lips and scratching his dull nails into her hips.

 

"Damn, you're so tight," he rumbled, quickening his rhythm, memorizing her fit, and delighting in their slick friction as her burgeoning wetness encased him.

 

She threw her head back, her mouth opening wide to the feeling, so close and just a few quick thrusts toward the stars - just within her reach. Sweat trailed down her forehead, and her body burned below. She cried with shocks and spasms racing through her veins. Her body vibrated against his, and he rammed faster, driving through her and making up for all those lost years apart.

 

She came with his name on her wet breath, and she buried her face in the crook of his shoulder. Aftershocks surged through her, and Peter pushed once more, far and harsh, and he groaned, clenching his teeth. Claire's face glowed, and she felt him leave his imprint inside her - washing her with satiated warmth. She hugged him, refusing to let go.

 

And quickly, Peter had carried them back to the couch, where they sighed in relief, settling against each other instinctively. The cool air tingled against their moist skin.

“This was …” Peter's throat felt parched, and he licked his lips and caught his breath. “What was this?”

Claire's chest heaved, winding down as she relaxed. The afterglow of Peter's touch still stirred inside her. It was fantastic, and he was amazing, but she knew in her heart such a thing could not last. They're paths were different now, and even in the after-light, the world would still be cruel to them.

“That was…” Claire met his eyes, and sorrow lingered within them. “I think that was good-bye.”

`No!' was Peter's selfish reaction, but once again Claire was right. He glared ahead, and any hope he had inside him was slowly starting to die. What kind of life could he even have without Claire? All he could see was nothingness. She was his light - his very first spark, and the initial peak that sent him down his warrior path.

He couldn't lose her, but gods and devils were telling him he must.

Before she could catch her second wind completely, Peter had pulled her into his lap again. His grip burned against her arms, and terror and lust filled her eyes as he glared at her.

“Take me again, and again, until I have to go. I'm not leaving until I can have as much as I can.” Danger and seduction glazed his words. “I love you. And without you, I know I'm cursed.”

His mouth drowned her, and she was whimpering, trying desperately to adjust to his fierce kiss. His hands were on her breasts again, squeezing her thighs, and he impaled her with his returning excitement. Claire squealed, bouncing already on top of him, and Peter grunted heavily, nipping at the shell of her ear.

She came and he came, again and again. Their bodies bruised and healing, their souls marked with desperation - with the fear of letting go.

And as he thrust in her one last time, her body was raw, not fast enough to heal to his speed. She dug her nails into his shoulders, and he quelled the power, allowing the marks to stay.

He wanted her, all of her, and to keep a part of her inside him. And he touched her, embraced her, and cried against her skin. She ran her fingers through his hair, soothing him with her small strokes, kissing him as he sobbed in her arms.

He promised himself Claire was the last woman he would cry for. She would be the last woman to see his tears. All his women now and that came afterward would never reach that point - and he'd sooner leave them in an instant than sacrifice any more of his heart to the undeserved.

“Claire.” And he strongly believed it was the most beautiful word in this crazy, Hell-spawned world.

“Shh…” Her voice was soft and languid, and her hands shook as she held him.

Claire braved a glance out the window, the eastern sky painted with the rising sun. “You have to go soon.”

He muffled a reply in her chest, not wanting to come up for air.

“You know, it's funny; when I saw you tonight, I thought you'd just take me and then leave in the morning while I was asleep or something.” Claire let out a small laugh. “I wouldn't have minded. I think anything you do, Peter, is always right.”

Peter rose slowly from her chest, and she fell into his storming eyes. There was an emptiness there that she hadn't seen before. Was spending one last final night with her chipping away at his soul?

Peter kissed her softly. His voice fluttered lightly across her ears. His words were loving, and they twisted and jabbed at her insides. “I'd never do that to you. Every second counts.”

“I know,” Claire said, tracing her fingers down his scar. Her touch was within him, but he still wouldn't heal the scar. It was the memory that even though she was alive, he still couldn't have her.

Suspended in tightly-woven thoughts and each other's arms, time soon turned five minutes to five. Peter glared at the clock. `Teleportation monitors be damned.' And he thought it was just a false rumor anyway, but Sparrow and Hiro were always cautious about it.

Claire could be in danger as well if it was true, and if he actually triggered one.

He put on his clothes angrily, looking away from Claire as she watched him. He would have to fly fast, pick up speed he absorbed from a fast runner named Bart, and get to camp within that last second.

“You really have to go,” Claire said, her voice dropping low. Her hands stroked his chest, fingers roaming in desperation.

“Yes,” Peter said, and his hand gripped her arm. His eyes raged with a promise. “When we win this war and take him down, I'm coming back for you. I'm fighting this for you.”

“You think you can win the war, Peter?” Disbelief coated her words.

“Yes,” he answered quickly. He gave her one last searing kiss, leaving her slightly disoriented. He spoke resolutely, “And when it's all over, I'm coming back to you. I'm coming for you and we won't have to hide any longer. And there's no way even blood will keep us apart.”

“Peter…” Claire said, and he pulled away from her, and every nerve in her body screamed.

“I love you.” His eyes pleaded for her to wait for him. He turned, closed his eyes, and snapped quickly away.

He was gone, and Claire fell to her knees and cried. She only hoped what he said was true. But could she believe him?

Could she believe Peter could actually win the war?

 

THE END