Title: Refuge
Author: Cassandra Mulder
Rating: PG
Classification: Heroes; Peter/Claire
Spoilers: Homecoming, Six Months Ago, Fallout
Disclaimer: They're not mine. I wish they were, but alas... All the heroes belong to Tim Kring and NBC. No infringement is intended.
Summary: There's only one person she can turn to now.
Written: December 10 - 17, 2006
Word Count: 1994
A/N: This is just to break me into writing Heroes fic, so I hope it's all right. I suppose it could be a P/C scenario, if the writers would let it, but I liked the idea of it. Why not start in the easy place - a post-Fallout kind of place. hehe I hope you enjoy, and remember, feedback is love!

---

They were taking her life away piece by piece. She had finally discovered who she was, found friends she could trust, and now it was all gone.

Panic had consumed her when she realized what they had done to Zach. She could understand her father wanting to protect her brother, but Zach had been as trustworthy as they came. His loss of her secret, the loss of his friendship that had gotten her through the last few weeks, was devastating.

Now she had no one to talk to, and she had to pretend she didn't know anything herself. She couldn't understand her father's plan. What was he going to do? Mind wipe her every time something happened to her and she wasn't hurt? She had always been daddy's little girl, and she couldn't believe the man she had loved and trusted all of her life was getting shadier by the day. She felt uneasy all the time, like she was walking on eggshells just to keep it together.

Her dad thought his plan was working. He went on as if everything was the same as before, but nothing would ever be the same in her world.

After a week of post-Homecoming madness, she knew she had to get out. She needed to find the others again; Peter Petrelli and the others he talked about. He understood her, and right now that was what she needed more than anything else. Even if her dad sent out an army to look for her, she needed to run. She needed to know what was happening. She needed to see him again.

Claire was on a Greyhound halfway to New York City before she realized she just might be insane. Even if she got off, turned around at the next bus station, and headed back to Odessa, they would have already missed her. It was too late, and the answers she needed lay east, not west.

She had looked up Peter's address on the internet before she had left home, erasing all evidence on her computer. She didn't know what she was going to do or say if she could even find his apartment. He would probably call the cops.

She probably wouldn't blame him.

It had taken five year's worth of what she had saved of her allowance to get her across the country. She was suddenly very glad she was thrifty. As soon as she was stranded in the middle of Manhattan, she hardly knew what to do. She had five hundred dollars left, so she figured spending a couple at McDonald's wouldn't hurt her. She was starving.

After she had eaten, she took the piece of paper, on which she had jotted down Peter's address, out of her purse and took a deep breath. She hailed a cab on the first try, much to her surprise, and when she got out on the lower east side in front of his apartment building, she had never been so scared in her life.

It was eight o'clock as she stood in front of his door (seven, Texas time, she thought), and she suddenly hoped he didn't have a job that required him to get up ridiculously early. If she woke him up on top of everything else, she thought she might die.

She braced herself for the inevitable catastrophe ahead of her, and knocked.

A few breathless seconds later, the door opened and she was so happy to see him she thought she might cry. He was wearing a white t-shirt and black pajama pants, but he didn't look like he had been asleep.

The expected frown was on his face as he leaned against the doorjamb. "Claire? What are you doing here?" He looked both ways down the hall. "Are you alone?"

"Yes." She bit her lip, unable to imagine what he must be thinking. "I'm not a... stalker or anything," she said, and he cracked a slight smile. "But I am sort of in trouble. It's a long story."

He was frowning again, but he seemed to remember his manners, and opened the door wider as he stepped back to let her in. He led her to the living room and gestured to the couch. She sat down.

"Can I get you something to drink?" he offered.

She gave him a small smile. "No, thank you. I'm okay, I just had supper."

Peter nodded and sat down in the chair opposite her. "What kind of trouble are you in, Claire?" he asked, leaning forward.

She took a deep breath, hoping he wouldn't think she was crazy. Then again, how could he? He had survived a five story tumble off a building. "Nobody remembers what happened at Homecoming, Peter. Not the real story, anyway. My brother and my best friend knew my secret, and now they don't. It's like the last six months of my life never happened."

"I don't understand. How do they not remember? Who did that to them?"

"My father," she said, swallowing hard.

He blew out a breath and pushed his bangs behind one ear. "Your father? Does he know where you've gone? Because I'm pretty sure if you're a runaway and you're under eighteen, I'm in trouble, too."

She studied her hands intently, not looking up at him. "I know. I'm sorry. I didn't know where else to go."

"Hey," he said, covering her folded hands with one of his. "It's okay. Tell me what happened, Claire. We'll figure it out."

Claire looked up at him then, grateful for his kindness. She knew she could trust him. She had seen it in his eyes the first time they met.

She told him about what her father knew, and the man he had sent to wipe her memory, like the others. She told him about the week spent practically cowering in her house because everything was weird, and everyone was acting like life was normal when she knew it wasn't. She hadn't been able to stand it anymore.

"I know I've only made it worse, Peter. I don't want you to get hurt, and I don't want them to come and erase your memories, too, though the man capable of that seems to be on our side. For now. He said I had to remember; that the fate of the world depended on it. I don't know what he means by that and I'm scared."

It was only when he took it away that she realized he had kept his hand over hers the entire time she was talking. Even though she lost the contact, he was still looking at her kindly. He moved to the couch to sit beside her.

"Like I said, we'll figure it out. Something huge is going on here. When they released me from jail in Texas, I collapsed. I had a dream - I have visions as well as mimicking other's powers - and I spent three days in the hospital in a coma."

She looked concerned. "Are you all right?"

He nodded. "I'm fine now. A couple of days ago I just came out of it, and my brother brought me home. No one can explain it. I think maybe I was around too many other people like us at once, and it made me sick. I don't really know for sure, but I'm trying to make sense of what I saw in my dreams so we can stop it from happening."

"What happens if we don't?" she asked worriedly.

"I'm pretty sure New York will be gone if we don't do something. Maybe a larger area than that."

"I can't believe this is happening," she said. "Six months ago all I was worried about was keeping my place on the squad. Three weeks ago I was killing myself on repeat to try to figure out what was wrong with me. Now I'm partially responsible for saving the world? How is that possible?"

Peter looked sympathetic. "That's what we're trying to work out. I'm sorry I don't have anymore answers for you."

She shook her head. "It's not your fault. You're only trying to do the right thing. I get the feeling that's just who you are."

He gave her that crooked smile she felt she could definitely get used to seeing, and shrugged. Humble, too, she thought, smiling back at him. Great.

"Right now we have to worry about where you're going to stay," he said, looking around uncomfortably.

"Um, maybe I could have your couch, just for tonight? I'll have to figure out something tomorrow, but I hadn't thought this far ahead." She frowned.

"You don't want the couch, believe me. Plus, my brother has a tendency to barge in whenever he feels like it. If he finds you here, he'll probably have me arrested himself. All he's worried about is running for Congress."

"Does he know about... Does he know what you can do?"

Peter nodded. "Yeah, and he can fly."

Claire gasped. "Wow."

"Yeah, he doesn't think it's so great."

"No offense, but he must be crazy."

He laughed. "You have no idea." There was a moment of silence. "You can have my bed tonight. I'll sleep on the couch, and once you've gotten some rest we'll find you another place to stay."

She would never say it out loud, but she wished she could stay with him indefinitely. "My father's going to be looking for me," she said, looking guilty.

"I know. We'll do the best we can to protect you. I'll do the best I can."

Claire blushed and smiled. "This is such a disaster," she said with a shake of her head.

"Not as long as we avoid disaster," Peter said. "It's going to be all right, Claire. It has to be."

She nodded. "I know."

He stood up. "I'll get some sheets out of the bedroom, and then you can crash."

He went to do so while she waited in the living room, and suddenly she was nervous again. She was in a strange city with a strange man, and she had no plan whatsoever. She trusted Peter; he had risked his life to save hers already, so she knew he could be trusted. It was still strange to her. She had never spent more than one night away from her family, and this was her second in a row.

When he came back, she stood so he could start making up the couch.

"I really can't take your bed, Peter."

"Sure you can. Trust me, this couch is lumpy. I'm used to it, so it's okay."

She didn't meet very many gentlemen, so she decided not to argue further. She headed for his bedroom, but turned around at the door to watch him spread the sheets on the sofa. She tossed her backpack into the room, and as he looked up at her, pushing his bangs behind his ear again, she bounded back into the living room.

Claire ignored the confusion on his face, and reached up to hug him. After a second, he tentatively put his arms around her. She didn't exactly know what she was doing, but she knew she needed the contact, the reassurance of someone's arms around her. She laid her head on his shoulder for the briefest of moments and felt his arms tighten around her.

When she stepped back, she smiled. "Thank you, Peter."

He looked at her quizzically, so she hurried to explain.

"For saving my life; over and over, apparently," she said sincerely.

Before he could reply, she turned and ran back to his room, turning toward him one more time to see him smiling that delightfully lopsided smile at her. As she went into his room and closed the door, she shook her head. Her life was a wreck already. The last thing she needed was to fall in love with an older man, but at the moment that was the least scary prospect in her life.

Finis