Chapter Text
Zach glanced over at his copilot and asked, for the seventh time, “How nervous are you
about it?”
“Zach! We’re meeting my birth mother who may or may not have powers! Of course I’m
insanely nervous,” Claire replied, exasperated. She punched his arm lightly and said, “Maybe
you’d be helping with the nerves if you didn’t keep asking me about it.”
He stayed silent while switching lanes, then pulled down the sun visor. “Alright, so is
there something you do want to talk about?”
Claire started to speak but trailed off before she could decide on a word. Was there
anything that didn’t exacerbate her nervousness lately? It was all a big tangle, especially since
her best friend experienced a factory reset and she’s had to keep lying to everyone on a daily
basis. In a weird way, homecoming and the day after were retroactively kind of refreshing in
terms of Claire getting to be honest. Zach glanced over at her right as she smiled, recalling the
night she met “him.”
“That looks like something to talk about,” he said, gesturing to her now-lightened
demeanor and smirking in the way the “old Zach” used to when Brody walked past them.
She flushed and stammered at being one hundred percent clocked. Claire shouldn’t
have expected any less from him, though, so she looked out the passenger-side window for a
moment before asking, “Do you believe in love at first sight?”
“For myself? I don’t know. I doubt it, but I don’t think it’s outside the realm of possibility.
For you? Definitely.”
Claire furrowed her brow, slightly confused. “What do you mean, definitely? I’m not-
Well, I don’t think I’m the type.”
“Yeah, you’re mature and all, but let’s face it. You’re kinda impulsive. Plus, even asking
about it kinda makes me think you’re wondering if you’re feeling it.”
The downside of having a best friend who’s always right is that they’re going to be right
even when it’s inconvenient, and Claire could do nothing except bristle and mutter, “Okay,
yeah. Maybe a little bit. But I thought- I thought love at first sight was for like... the types of
boy-crazy girls who get themselves in trouble because they think they’re living in a fairy tale or
whatever.”
“...Meant for someone else, but not for me. Love was out to get me, that’s the way it
seemed,” Zach sang, surprisingly well.
“Okay, I get it, you don’t have to-“
He leaned to Claire and elbowed her, continuing. “BUT THEN I SAW HER FACE-”
Claire couldn’t decide whether to sing along or tell him to shut up, either of which
would’ve been difficult through her laughter. “Alright, okay, but seriously, Zaaach. Is it as crazy
as I think it is?”
He finally stopped singing and, after glancing in the rear view mirror so someone could
pass, answered, “Attraction at first sight is not something I’d fault anyone for, and attraction
can turn into a crush pretty quickly if something encourages it. And, I mean. No offense, but
your life right now kind of does seem like a fairy tale. Powerful orphan, suspicious adopted
parent, people losing their memories. And if you’re telling the truth about homecoming, you
had a whole Cinderella thing with sneaking to the ball, even though that ended up going
wrong.”
“Jeez, you’re right! And I know you can’t remember it, but the way you threw rocks at
my window and gave me the advice you did while helping me sneak out... I don’t know if I’d
call it royal behavior, but... what does that make you, my fairy godmother?”
They both winced a little at the epithet, but Zach laughed it off and responded, “I don’t
know if I’d call it entirely inaccurate. So who’s the prince? Not another Brody, I’d hope.”
She flushed at the idea of a prince, but gave in and said, looking down at the floor, “Oh,
no, this is just gonna add even more to the fairy tale thing. Gaaah! Okay, so, before I got
attacked at homecoming, I bumped into this guy in the hallway. But he was an older guy,
maybe tweeelve-ish years older than me? He helped me out with the stuff I dropped, and we
talked a little.”
“Alright. Was he c- did you think he was cute?”
Claire retracted into herself, scared of what would happen if she were to verbally opine
on her hero’s looks.
“Dark hair, with these long, swoopy bangs. It kinda got in his big shiny hazelish-brown
eyes, goofy little crooked smile,” she rattled off, then added quietly, “He sorta seemed a bit...
built, underneath the coat. Like when I ran into him, there was this feeling of mass to him?”
Zach nodded and prompted, “You two talked a bit? Was he, y’know, being a creepy
older guy about it?”
“Not really, except for the trench coat. He asked me about Jackie and the train fire she
stole the credit for, so I sorta said that she wasn’t that special, and he said it sounded kinda
special to him.”
“What, didn’t want Jackie stealing your catch, too?”
“WHAT? Zach, oh my god, NO! But come ON, she knew she didn’t save the guy from
the fire, even before I told her it was me!” She shoved his arm, but playfully, and not hard
enough to mess up his driving.
“Okay, so what happened then?”
“Pe- he’s, he was just so easy to talk to, like we knew each other before we met. The bit
about not winning popularity contests, it just slipped right out. And then— ohh my gosh— I
was walking away, and he called out to me to say that it gets better after high school. And he
didn’t have to do that. Did he? That’s probably just a normal thing for a grownup to say to a
high schooler who just dumped her issues on a stranger.”
Zach shook his head to the side. “It could be either or, but that sounds about as normal
as can be expected of a twentysomething wearing a trench coat in a high school.”
“He did wink at me, though, when he said he was ‘just curious’ about the Jackie Shrine.
Do you think he knew it was me, or? I almost missed it, and didn’t really react to it. Not to his
face, at least. God, I must be going nuts from all this to be over analyzing a thirty-second
conversation.”
“It wasn’t just thirty seconds,” Zach interrupted flatly.
“What? You weren’t there-“
“If it was just a little conversation, we would not be talking about it like this, nor would it
play into the fairy tale thing like you said. What else happened?”
Claire mentally cursed the way her whole body felt warm thinking about it and
squirmed. “He was the one to save me from the guy who killed Jackie. And he’s like me. Sort
of.”
Zach nodded, “That would be princely behavior from this significantly older guy. Take
me through it.”
She sighed, unable to distinguish what was hero worship versus trauma versus
exhaustion. Mixed in was a feeling of guilt, as well; she wasn’t “supposed” to have anything
but fear, anger, sadness, and survivor’s guilt, right? Her ex-best friend was murdered by a man
who actually wanted her, and here Claire was telling the story from the perspective of having a
new crush she didn’t want to admit to? As if it wasn’t a weird enough attraction already. Claire
could only hope that talking would help, and began, “I ran out of the locker room the way I
came in, and ran into him again, my hair all matted with blood, and he asked if I was okay, and
then he saw the guy coming, and told me to run. It’s so weird—“
Zach cut in when she paused. “The whole thing is weird. No offense. What specifically
are you talking about?”
“With how easy it was to talk to him, it felt like I knew him before we met, like we were
already friends or even meant to be family in our souls. And somehow, he knew he had to be
there? We were both scared when that man came into the hall, but the determined look in his
eyes, like this was the moment he’d been waiting for all his life and knew exactly what to do...
God, Zach, who IS he?” Claire’s rambling suddenly caught up to her, and she brought her hand
to her mouth. Destiny and souls and whatnot— had her mind turned into a slurry of the Disney
movies she’d been made to watch on loop while babysitting last summer?
Zach laughed, not mean-spiritedly, and retorted, “That’s what I’ve been wondering!” His
comment seemed to go unnoticed, which wasn’t unusual, or particularly insulting to Zach.
Claire seemed to be lapsing more from monologue to soliloquy, which was understandable;
besides, he was living for the suspense of her storytelling.
This suspense would be better cut if Claire would take her head out of her hands and
keep talking, so he put a prompt out for her. “This guy saved you from a man with telekinesis,
right? What all did that entail? Anything, you know, touchy?” He wiggled his hands before
‘touchy’ to emphasize his concerned tone.
Claire snapped back to the conversation in the car and answered. “I mean, I ran smack
into him when I was first running, and he, like, caught me, and asked if I was okay. Grasped me
by the hand and forearm until he told me to run. I know it sounds crazy, but does that and the
time we ran arm in arm count as holding hands?”
Zach muttered, “If you’re obsessing this much over it, yeah.”
“I thought I heard some lockers or something banging behind me when he tried to stall
the killer, and I was freaking out about it but it’s really hard to run and look back at the same
time. And then when he caught up with me on the amphitheater where we eat lunch, we were
running sort of arm-in-arm or something? Sideways hug-running? And I didn’t want to, but he
told me to leave him, let him fight that man alone, find lights and people and all that. I was... I
was so scared to leave him there, but he yelled at me to run, with so much intensity.. it was so
intense... like I mattered, more than him... he said it so.. well, intensely...” Claire heaved a
sigh, but still gently, as she appeared to be getting choked up.
Zach reached over to pat her shoulder, grateful that she didn’t pull away from it, even
though it was clear he wasn’t her first choice of comfort. While he didn’t remember the
specifics, he had an underlying suspicion that this was something even the “old Zach” never
saw from his best friend.
She was shaking a little with the realization, but suddenly it bursted out of Claire,
accompanied by a splash of tears. “He died for me, Zach! I know he said something about how
saving me would save the world, but he still died for me!” Claire gasped into a sob as Zach
pulled over. “He didn’t even know me, but he still seemed to know what was going to happen,
and he’s the sweetest person I’ve ever met, he was so nice to a complete stranger-“
Zach sighed and patted Claire’s shoulder more while she was retracted into herself,
then said, “I’m... so sorry about that. From the way you were talking about the guy, it sounded
like he was still alive.”
She sniffled and cried, “He is! He’s out there somewhere, alive, and he sort of implied
it’s because because of my ability! So I came up to him after he’d jumped off the building with
the other guy, and he- he woke up, and started putting his legs back together!”
Claire decided to keep to herself the way that her heart fluttered when she’d been
asked, “Are you the one?”
After all, a factual account of her conversation with her bloodied savior didn’t require her to
admit to anyone that she hid a smile when this perfect stranger (in more ways than one) asked
if they were supposed to find each other. Right?
Clenching her hands close to her face as if to catch a secret inside them, Claire finally
dared to whisper his name in a conversation that began with love.
Zach leaned in a bit and said, “What was that?”
“Peter. His, his name. It’s Peter Petrelli,” Claire breathed.
Her tears had slowed, but she still felt a little disrespected by the way Zach chuckled,
“Ah, okay. That settles it.”
“Settles what?”
“There’s no way you can be named Peter P. without being in a fairy tale, superhero story,
or both. I’d say that’s outside the realm of possibility, but then again, look at us. A regenerating
orphan and her amnesiac best friend? Why should the guy who saved you have a normal
name?”
“Okay, yeah. It’s kinda funny or at least surreal.” A conciliatory smile, and Claire rested
her head back on the headrest of the car seat, loosening her posture.
Despite having her eyes closed, she could still sense the sunlight behind her eyelids,
and asked breathily, “Have you ever gotten scared that you’re seeing somebody for the last
time ever?”
Zach knew better than to try and finagle an answer in, and simply let Claire continue
while he checked to make sure they were still on the right road.
“I know the cops had hauled him off for being covered in blood by the time I would’ve
gotten back to the door, but still. I wish Dad had let us go back, because then maybe I could’ve
explained, or something. On second thought, maybe it’s better to not because Dad’s so weird
about all this and has the Haitian and everything. UGH! He just... it’s like he ruins everything by
making it more complicated than it has to be, and it makes me so lonely all the time, but he’s
the one I have to live with, and meanwhile I don’t know if the person who made me feel like
everything’s gonna be okay remembers meeting me, or if he’s even alive!”
Zach nodded hesitantly, trying to figure out something to say. Unsure of whether he was
telling the truth or a comforting lie, he said, “You’ll see him again. If you two are somehow
involved in the fate of the world, I’m sure the universe will throw you together.”
As a footnote, he muttered, “Although, I don’t think I’d necessarily recommend trying to
get with him.”
Claire sniffled and said, “Yeah, you’re right.” She leaned against the passenger-side
window and took in the feeling of the glass against her dampened cheek. Oh, Peter. His eyes
and voice were so gentle to her, and he only dared raise his voice because he was absolutely
determined to keep Claire away from her assailant. She felt a pang now, similar to the one she
felt when she had to let Peter go and run from the amphitheater, albeit now articulated— not
only did she not want to leave him alone with that man then, Claire didn’t want to leave him,
period.
During this moment of silence, it occurred to Zach that even though he’d seen Claire as
a deeper person than she’d let on, he'd never anticipated how deeply and intensely she felt
about this Peter. Zach couldn’t think of a time in his life that he’d ever felt that way for anybody,
and was scared that he never would.
Is Claire just being a normal teenager, or is this actually a really extreme crush to suit her
extreme circumstances? In other words, which of us is broken, if either of us? He cleared his
throat and said, "This might be a weird question, but... How do you feel about— well, how
much you seem to feel about this guy?”
Claire started from her reverie and twisted two pieces of her hair as she slowly explained, “I don't know. Like, now that I've told
you about it, I almost can’t stop thinking ABOUT how I can’t stop thinking about him. And
maybe it's normal, but then I remember how I met him and he saved me, and then it's not
normal anymore. It's not normal that a guy like him just came from New York specifically to
save me because he just knew he had to, even if it cost him his life, except it didn’t, and he
was acting like he came back from dying because he met me!”
“Don’t forget to breathe, Claire,” Zach said when she paused; he didn’t necessarily
consider her “high maintenance,” but the girl probably could’ve used the reminder. “Look, it’s
not like I blame you for feeling like this or anything. Situation this dramatic, of course you’d be
swept up in it, even though, like I said, don’t go chasing older guys like that. I guess what I
mean is, have you ever felt this much about anybody before?”
Claire chuckled wryly and replied, “I thought I did, when Preston moved to town in
fourth grade, but that petered out-“
The unintended pun caused them both to snort a little before Claire went back to her
original point. “It just doesn’t seem wise, though, to be over here fantasizing about white
horses and secretive visits by moonlight. You know? Not when there’s a serial killer who wants
my power, my dad’s erased your memory and my family’s and tried to do the same to mine,
and I have to pretend I forgot how my ex-best friend was senselessly murdered in front of me
for no good reason. Am I some sort of über-heartless jerk that it takes concentration to spare a
thought for Jackie and her family? Her last words were telling me to run and save myself, and somehow it barely crosses my mind. We’re a few turns away from meeting the woman who
gave birth to me and might be able to give me a few answers, but I can’t shut up about Peter!”
Zach sighed, not mean-spiritedly. “You’re not heartless or evil, or any of that.
Sometimes it’s dizzying for me to think about all this, and I’m not even the one living through it.
If I thought you were going about this wrong, you would not be in this car right now. I’m sure
you’re tired of me saying that I don’t recommend trying to be with him Like That, since you’re a
big girl and I’d hope you’d be able to keep yourself on the rails. ... Pun not intended. Frankly,
any which way that you end up feeling about all this isn’t wrong as long as you’re not actually
doing something wrong.”
“See, this is why I wanted to bring you to the dance. How’d you get so smart?”
Gravel crunched under the tires of the car as Zach said, “That’s a topic for after you’re
done with your mom.”
They drank in the bright Texas sky and the modest yards of each trailer and began to
look for number thirty-six.
“So, yeah, overall,” Claire concluded, “I like her and think she cares about me, but... I
don’t know if she’s gonna have all the answers like I’d hoped. Not about me or my identity, or
about how these powers happen or work. What I’m supposed to do.” She closed her eyes and
hoped she wasn’t being too negative and pessimistic again.
“That’s fine, nobody figures that out immediately, but you and your impatience are
gonna be okay, okay?” Both friends silently marveled at Zach’s seeming superpower for
patience.
“I guess,” Claire mumbled.
Zach chided her, “No, you’ve gotta say it with me. It’s gonna be okay, okay?”
“God, that sounds stupid,” she laughed.
To emphasize her reluctance, Claire continued in that sarcastic manner one does when
repeating mantras— dramatically tilting her head side to side in rhythm with each word as she
and Zach said in unison, “It’s gonna be okay, okay.”
This set them both to snickering and he conceded, “That does sound stupid. I’m never
making you do that again.”
All was quiet in the car while they merged onto the highway, until Zach asked, “But she
had to have some useful advice, right?”
Claire waffled for a moment, worrying she was ignoring his advice by continuing to
ruminate about her feelings, but said, “Well, I did ask her how you can tell when you’re in love.
Like, really in love.”
“Mmhmm,” Zach nodded quietly. It made Claire nervous that she couldn’t discern
approval or disapproval from his manner. “What’d she say?”
Claire affected Meredith’s southern accent and quoted her. “'Honestly, honey. I don’t
know if I’m the right person to ask— to this day I still don’t know if I was really in love with your
daddy. And my love life hasn’t really been that busy since then. Why do you ask, sweetpea? Do
you think you might be in love yourself?'”
She futzed with the cuffs of her sweater sleeves while she continued, “I don’t know
why, but I didn’t want to tell her about Peter, so I just shrugged and said, ‘I’m not sure,’ and
asked about something else. Like I thought if I told her about Peter, she’d either strongly
discourage me or try to encourage it. Something about that, I just... I don’t want to hear about
it from her, because I feel like it’d feel some type of wrong either way.”
“Is that really what she sounds like?” he asked, knowing it was probably irrelevant. “If
that’s an accurate impression, maybe you don’t have to live as some sort of science
experiment— there could be opportunities in voice acting. I’ve thought about it for a while, but
never mentioned it. My little cousin was watching me play Kingdom Hearts this past summer,
and I think you kind of sound like Kairi- Never mind.”
Zach could tell from Claire’s expression that there was more that she was bursting to
talk about, and flatly asked, “Is it about your mom or about Peter?”
“Am I really that predictable?” Claire responded, embarrassed and a little annoyed.
“Don’t answer that,” she added, then admitted, “Peter again. Because, I mean... there’s
a whole other conversation I had with him that I still wanna get into.”
“I’ve got my listening ears on, so go ahead. What’s the lowdown?” Zach slightly pursed
his lips in another of his semi-smiles that frustrated Claire because he looked interested, but
didn’t betray a value judgement aye or nay.
She sighed heartily and began to recount her second meeting with Peter. “Okay, so, you
know how the cops dragged Peter away because there was a murder and he was covered in
blood and all that? And so the next morning they had to ask me some questions, too, because
I was there and Dad wanted to make sure everything was under control in terms of people
knowing about what I, well, we can do.”
Claire tried not to blush when she said the word “we,” because sure, she was talking
about maybe being in love with someone who understood what she was experiencing, but
like... come on.
Zach nodded, and laughed, “How hard was it to explain how you were totally drenched
in blood but came out totally fine?”
“Oh, yeah, that was crazy. The lady was from the FBI and I had to answer her questions
without fully answering them. They wanted to know how Peter was okay after tackling that guy,
but what was I supposed to say? That even though I’ve never been more afraid, I felt my heart
swelling when I saw him gasp and start coughing and putting his legs back together because
that’s what I do?”
She shoved away notions of “hotness” when he asked her what happened to the
murderer in that gravelly voice, then wondered if Zach was some kind of mind reader the way
he exhaled from his nose while she paused. Claire hastily added, “So I tried to play dumb or
something and steer the cops towards the fact that he, y’know, saved my life and I wanted to
know if he was okay.”
“Which he was, right?” Zach asked. It was unclear whether he was checking to make
sure his listening comprehension was up to snuff or if he wanted to move things along. “They
were confused over you both being alright, because, you know. Blood everywhere, dead
Jackie, et cetera et cetera.”
“Exactamundo, but then Dad got them to finally let up and I asked if I could talk to him.
I was getting real tired of the guy cop, if I’m being honest. He kept making this weird face, like
scrunching his eyebrows and tilting his head like he was trying to hear something, but then
wincing.”
“Like, over and over again?” Zach chuckled. “Buddy, I don’t think that’s how good-cop-
bad-cop works.”
They both shrugged off the matter, and Zach adjusted his sun visor. Meanwhile, Claire
shivered a little; between the air conditioner blasting and the memory of seeing Peter again, her
body couldn’t decide whether to feel cold or warm or both. How could talking to a man
covered in dried-up blood in a jail cell be the type of memory that makes my breath hitch?
Claire’s dad had probably had an arm on her shoulder or been doing one of those protective
gestures with debatable possessive undertones at the time, but whether he had or not had
slipped through the cracks of her memory. What she instead told Zach was, “We got there, and
he’s technically in jail, right? Except it’s just a glass door and windows instead of bars. Dad and
Peter make their introductions, and Peter, he just starts coughing up a lung.”
“What, like literally?”
“No, figuratively. Just coughing really hard. And they took his coat and button-down
into evidence or something, so he’s just there in his white t-shirt that’s got like dried blood all
crusty on the hem, as well as more dried on his neck and face and all that. He looked like shit,
honestly, but also... hoo, man.” Claire sighed an unspoken “wow.”
Zach clicked his tongue and nodded a little, and neither he nor Claire could figure out
what to make of her description of Peter. How much did he live up to the narrative she was
weaving, how much was Claire exaggerating.
“So,” she continued, “then I asked Dad for a minute alone with Peter-”
“Oooh, alone time,” Zach teased in an exaggerated voice. “Peter ‘n’ Cla-aire, sittin’ in a
tree-”
“No! Oh my god, shut up! Shut up! Dad was right outside the door and it was all glass
anyway!”
Zach replied with mock-disappointment, “Aww, no proper conjugal visit with your
man?”
“He’s not my man!” Claire shouted back, flustered. “He’s not! Shut up!”
“But you want him to be,” he mocked, elbowing her lightly.
Claire lightly hit her fists on her thighs and said, “No-wah,” making the word No into two
syllables for emphasis. “But I mean, maybe? God, I don’t know... This stuff is hard enough to
figure out already. Can... do you mind dialing it back a notch or two while I keep going?”
“Hm? Oh, of course. Sorry about that.” Zach’s apology was brief and he seemed a little
unfocused, but it was genuine, Claire could tell.
“He seemed so relieved to see me okay, and that was. I dunno, flattering? Either way,
first thing, I had to ask how long he’s known he’s... like me.” Claire squirmed in her seat and
glanced out at the dry grass out the window. The way it sounded was like he wasn’t entirely
“like her,” or at least not solely. Maybe there was something else Peter could do— Claire
couldn’t tell. Regardless, he could definitely make Claire’s heart race by being so overwhelmed
with relief to see her alive and fresh as a daisy.
“Maybe I was talking too fast, because he took a second to realize what I do, that I
heal. Peter seemed surprised, like he was only now connecting the dots.” Claire tried to
balance out the butterflies in her stomach with puzzling out the parts that hadn’t made sense at
the time, then added, “You know about as much about this as I do, so I don’t know much. But
since Peter came to save me, it was kinda weird seeing him all... confused.”
“What?” Zach asked, and shook his head a little. “Slow down a sec.”
“Huh? Oh, right, okay, so. It’s like. I don’t know a thing, other than that I can heal, and
then after we were done at the police station, I learned about the Haitian guy my dad knows,
who can make people forget. But, y’know, that’s later. But when we were there in that cell, all I
knew was that I can heal, and that there was the guy who killed Jackie, who could move things
with his mind or whatever, and Peter did what I can do. But the way Peter was talking, it
sounded like he knew more than me, so I’d figured- well, I’d hoped that he’d, you know, have
all the answers.”
“But he didn’t?” Zach prompted, then took a swig of his water bottle. “Yeesh,” he
mumbled under his breath, because it hadn’t stayed cold and was instead lukewarm and
tasted off.
“No. So I ask him if that’s why he came to save me, and that stuff he said about being
the one, right?”
Zach gestured with his hand, as if to ask his friend’s mile-a-minute motormouth to
rewind.“Wait, what? What’s that last part? I think I missed that on the way out.”
Claire remembered how and why she hadn’t brought it up earlier, and answered, “Okay,
so I came out and found him on the ground with his legs in five different directions, and before I
took off to go find Dad, we asked each other’s names.”
She tried to imitate his voice, with its resonance and touch of gravel it’d had at the time,
and quoted, “‘Are you the one? By saving you, did I save the world?’”
Right as Zach restarted his grade-schooler oohing, Claire cut it off, and continued, “So I
said I had no idea because I’m just a cheerleader. Next day, jail cell, hoping he can just...
explain everything I’ll ever need to know about all of... This.”
“Right, yeah.”
“And he tells me that he just ‘knew he had to come here’ or whatever?
And earlier, Agent Hanson had said he’s from New York, so I’m like, ‘What, what do you
mean?’ You know? Why’s he coming down here to save me?” Claire clenched and unclenched
her fists and was gesticulating frantically for emphasis.
Claire seemed to grow more frustrated as she described Peter’s answer with air quotes.
“And he says the same thing he’d said the night before, ‘To save the world,’ and when I ask
him what I’ve gotta do with that, he says he doesn’t know yet! What the hell is that? Come on,
man. Can’t just leave me hanging like that!”
As she grunted, Zach gently patted her shoulder and reminded her, “Hey, hey.
Remember what we talked about earlier, about your mom. Just because someone’s older or
there at the right place at the right time, doesn’t mean they know what’s going on either.”
He shook his head and muttered, “Had to learn that one the hard way. On multiple
occasions.”
Her eyes were scrunched shut as she mumbled, “It’s not fair, though. If he doesn’t have
all the answers we need yet, why can’t he stay or why can’t I talk to him more so that I can be
part of it when he does start to understand? At least if Peter’s the one telling me what’s going
on, I don’t think he’d talk down to me and keep secrets. Or at least, I’d like to think so.”
“What?” Zach asked, then elaborated, “What do you mean by that? You haven’t talked
to him that much, so... how can you tell?”
Claire offered a conciliatory shrug and answered, “Just this feeling I got. Peter’s, well...
he’s amazing, and seems so wise, but I think he might also be kinda stupid on practical things.
Like I said, he straight-up told me that there’s a lot he just doesn’t know. He mentioned that he
didn’t think he’d be alive without me, because, you know. He fell off the gym and seemed
pretty dead.”
“So I told him I’ve also died, and it’s not a big deal, for people like us,” Claire added.
Ugh, and then Peter GRINNED and it was all crooked, and IT’S NOT CUTE, HE’S A GROWN
MAN- God... It was SO cute.
She muttered under her breath, “Why’d he have to stare at me like that? Driving me
nuts.”
“What kind of staring?” Zach asked, “Like this?” He looked over at Claire silently with
his eyes widened and his mouth slightly puckered, which made him look a little like a fish. The
car turned slightly to the right as Zach accidentally turned the wheel along with his head.
“Hey, eyes on the road, man!” Claire exclaimed, “I’ll be fine if we crash, but you sure
won’t!”
“Oh, shit, right.” Zach adjusted and made sure the car was solidly in the right lane.
After a few seconds, he asked, “So was that the kind of staring Peter was doing?”
“Well, he didn’t nearly crash us into a guardrail, if that’s what you’re asking!” Claire
retorted. How was she supposed to describe Peter’s gaze? It was intense again, but not the
same way it had been the night before, after they’d been attacked. To Claire, it seemed as
though Peter’s eyes held a similar gentleness to when they first met, only with a feverish
undertone behind the relief of seeing her again. Sure, the brown of his iris was dulled by the
environment and his evident nervousness, but regardless, his eyes were ever so wide and
gleaming again. Claire recalled the sense of being devoured in his sight; doubtless, she too had
been trying to take in as much of Peter’s presence as was possible in those short few minutes.
However, her look was missing the dim appearance of gears turning in the back of her mind—
after all, she was only now starting to think there was some kind of puzzle going on. Peter
seemed to have at least some sense of how maybe any of it fit together.
Fate or no, Peter at least gave Claire a feeling that someday it would make sense. That
her ability, her existence, had a point of some kind. Even if neither of them knew what it was
yet. Maybe it’s the fate of the world or whatever, but that’s a tall order. She settled for thinking—
well, hoping that she meant something to Peter after all.
A dreamy smile had begun to form on Claire’s face, and Zach nudged her softly, hoping
for some elaboration. He guessed, “Soo... not the type of staring that would creep you out? Or
is it just because he’s cute that it didn’t set off alarms?”
The cheerleader returned to reality and laughed sarcastically. She scrunched her face a
little and made a sort of shrug with her hands, hoping her “argument” held water as she
haltingly rationalized, “Well, I mean... Zach, you weren’t there, okay? Peter, he’d been nothing but nice, and he SAVED my LIFE. Doesn’t that deserve at least some kind of a pass or
whatever?”
During a pause, she grew self-conscious: Am I saying Peter’s name too much? Kinda
seems like Zach is. Is he doing that to mess with me? Peter. Pee-terr Pe-trelllliiiii. Great, so now
I’m just tossing his name back and forth in my head... Claire Petrelli- NO! Shit, maybe- Claire
fidgeted and glanced down at her ring finger, then dashed away the concept.
“FURTHERMORE,” she relaunched into her explanations, “I mentioned earlier that he...
what’s the word for DIED FOR ME. Yeah! I asked, and he did not know he’d heal from that fall!”
“Yeah?” Zach contributed, but then went back to his mental calculations and focusing
on letting some asshole’s spanking new Chevy pass them.
Therefore, he wasn’t aware of the moony-eyed look Claire had as she leaned against
the passenger-side window to finish her story. “Peter said that it probably seemed stupid to go
tackling a guy off a building to save someone, not knowing you’ll be able to walk away from it
fine, but like... Since he was so determined that whole time, with that sort of fire behind his
eyes, and that ‘world’ stuff... Somehow he made it seem not that stupid at all, considering who
we were up against.”
“Especially since you’re the one he was saving?”
“Yeah, and I mean... that’s obviously majorly flattering, but even before that, y’know?
As far as he knew, on a night he seemed to believe was his last, he still took a moment to
cheer me up.” She sighed, this time content at having spilled her guts, and silently made a
wish for a chance to see Peter again and at least thank him. If nothing else, something about
him screamed “kindred spirit that would make a great friend to have for whatever life’s going to
throw next.”
Zach snapped his fingers and said quickly, “Wait wait wait, I think I’ve got it. If he’s like
you, but not like you, and it sounds like he’s giving you credit for his ability to heal, maybe
he’s... dammit, what’s the word?”
Claire started from her borderline-sleepy state and replied, “Huh? What’re you talking
about?”
“When you were trying to get me to remember whatever it was, you slammed this book
you said I gave you onto my desk, and I skimmed through it on my own time.”
“Right, right, Activating Evolution,” Claire recalled.
“There was a bit in there about... crap, I almost had it. ‘Sympathetic mimicry’ or
something? Since everything you said Peter said sounds like him owing his healing to you,
maybe that’s what he has.”
“Hmm, yeah. Maybe. Again, how’d you get so smart and why didn’t I friend-adopt you
sooner?”
The car stopped at the curb in front of the Bennet house, but Zach didn’t immediately
turn it off— even in late October, it was still too hot to sit for even a few minutes without the
AC. Instead, he turned around, grabbed his backpack from the backseat, and reached into a
side pocket while he told Claire, “Hey, I found you a little something while you were talking with
your mom.”
“What? No, you didn’t have to do that. You’ve already been the most helpful person I
know all week,” Claire answered.
He laughed gratefully and countered, “No, really, it’s not a big deal. I haven’t gotten a
chance to use my metal detector in ages, and I thought this might be fun.” He placed a fork
that was slightly bent and somewhat dusty into Claire’s hands.
Claire tried to laugh, worried she might come across as ungrateful as she asked, “A
fork? No offense, but what am I supp-“
“Ah-ba-bah,” Zach corrected, “a dinglehopper.”
They both immediately started laughing until Claire’s phone buzzed with yet another call
from her father. She unbuckled her seatbelt and tucked the gift into her own backpack, then
got out of the car. “Thanks again, Zach!”
“Yeah, no problem,” he called back as she ran up to the house.
Alone in the car, he put on a bad accent and mumbled, “That girl’s dad’s gonna staple
her fins to da floor.”