FIC: Twilight [Chapter Two] (Heroes)

[ashinae]

Twilight
by ashinae and linden_jay

Pairing: Nathan/Claire
Rating/Warnings: NC-17; prostitution, dub-con, mention and aftermath of rape (by original, not canon, characters).
Spoilers: Up to the beginning of season 2. This would take place within the first few episodes, but doesn't follow the established plot.
Disclaimer: Not written for profit.
Summary: "I wasn't trolling for a hooker. I just happened to bump into one."

Note: This is a multi-part, but complete, story. This is not a work in progress.

Previous Parts: Teaser, Chapter One



Twilight: Chapter Two

"I'd lock the doors, or the car won't be here when we get back," Claire warned him, climbing out of the car and striding toward the hotel doors, tugging them open and not bothering to hold them open for Nathan. A clerk looked up from behind the desk as she came in and moved to cut her off before she could go for the stairs.

"Rent's due, sweetheart." He looked over at Nathan. "Especially if you're here to do business."

"Uh, no. And actually... I'm checking out, so it doesn't matter," she said, smirking at the clerk.

"It matters when it was due yesterday," he pointed out, getting into Claire's space and doing the traditional slow up and down look.

Nathan was going to need to get a real job at this rate. He reached for his wallet and pulled out some cash, which he shoved at the clerk. "Here. Now let us go get her things so she can leave."

Claire wheeled around and glared at Nathan. "Stop doing that--God! You're not my goddamned pimp!" she spat, shoving past the clerk and stomping up the stairs, fishing her key out of her bag on the way up. She could have cut a deal, or talked him out of it, but no. Petrellis always shove money at their problems.

"I'm not up to wasting time right now," Nathan told her, following her up the stairs. He wasn't staring at her legs. Or any other part of her. "But if you'd like, I can beat him up and take the money back." Ah, sarcasm. He was hungry and cranky.

"Right. Good luck with that. Maybe you can get drunk and throw up on him, that'll show him," Claire muttered under her breath as she kept climbing stairs, finally getting to her room and unlocking the door, hip checking it hard to get it to open. The room was tiny, just a bed and a washroom that you could barely turn around in, Claire's few things scattered over the bed and floor.

"Well, I can see what drew you to this place." Nathan's stomach rumbled with hunger. He actually really was ready for some lunch. Real food would be great, but he couldn't exactly take Claire to a restaurant dressed as she was. Or even a grocery store.

"I'm really not up to sarcasm from a guy who stumbles around alleys with a rat taped to his face, drunk and trolling for hookers," Claire muttered, grabbing clothes from around the room and throwing them onto the bed, trying to find a plastic bag or something she could put her things into.

"I wasn't trolling for a hooker," Nathan snapped. "I just happened to bump into one."

"Yeah, you really took a lot of convincing too." There wasn't a bag anywhere Claire could find, so she sighed and reached her hand out to Nathan. "Give me your coat."

He didn't rise to the bait. He also didn't move. "It's Peter's."

"Oh." She paused, looking awkward for a moment, then cleared her throat. "Never mind. You just gave the guy three times as much for the rent as I owed him, I think he can lose a towel," she muttered, going around Nathan and into the bathroom, coming back out again with a bath towel and a few toiletries. Spreading the towel out on the bed, she bundled everything into the centre of it, tying the corners together into a bundle. "That's everything," she said, bending down and grabbing her boots and another pair of shoes.

Nathan watched her silently, then took the pair of shoes from her without a word, to make it easier for her to carry everything. "Let's get going, then. And my earlier question still stands--it's not much, and it's not good for us, but I'm willing to swing into a drive through, if you want lunch. You just tell me where."

She hesitated a moment or two, then murmured, "McDonalds. Please," she added, clutching her things to her chest.

He led the way back down, took the room key from her and tossed it at the clerk, told himself to forget about the extra money he'd wasted, and put an arm around Claire's shoulder as they made their way to the car again. "I admit I've always been a sucker for their chicken nuggets," he said, randomly, opening a back door for her stuff, and then moving around to the driver's side.

"Me too. With barbeque sauce. And extra for the French fries." She sat down in the passenger seat again, absently trying to pull her skirt a little lower which really wasn't possible. There just wasn't that much give in vinyl.

He didn't look at her legs. And he didn't say another word except to the drive through speaker, getting plenty of food and a couple drinks and ice cream, and then drove away. Getting everything up to Peter's apartment was a little awkward, but they managed, somehow, and Nathan ushered her inside. After setting the food down on the table, he turned and looked at her. "You look tired," he commented.

"It's not exactly easy to sleep in jail," Claire said, dropping her bundle of things onto the couch, then looking around. It reminded her of Peter, but she didn't want to say it out loud. She sat down on the couch and took off her heels, sighing once she got them off her feet, then got up again, heading over to the table and looking through the food, not bothering to ask before first before she started to eat. She was way too hungry for manners.

So was he, really, but at least he sat down after taking off the trench coat and his shoes. He dipped his fries in the little container of sweet and sour sauce, but ate the chicken nuggets plain. It was something Peter had never understood. It was ketchup on fries for Peter, and honey on the chicken pieces, and that never wavered. Nathan watched the table as he ate.

Claire ate barbeque sauce on everything--the chicken nuggets and the fries, and she never sat down, shifting in place and staying on her feet as she ate, spacing her food out with one of the drinks. She kept her eyes down, focusing on the food, and not Nathan.

"What the hell are you doing, Claire?" Nathan asked after another few minutes of silence passed between them.

"I could ask you the same thing," she said, picking up the container of barbeque sauce and a chicken nugget and wandering away from the table, looking at things, but not touching.

He stayed where he was. "You're underage, for one. What made you think that selling your body on street corners was a good idea?"

"Sometimes people like to eat." The short, non-committal answers had to be driving him crazy, but Claire just didn't really feel like getting into an ethical debate with Nathan Petrelli.

"And you couldn't find a job in a fucking shop somewhere? Sell jewelry, sell hair products, sell clothes? I keep walking by the same GAP with the same 'help wanted' sign."

"When's the last time you actually went out and looked for a job, Nathan?" Claire wheeled around and glared at him. "You need ID. You need a social security number. You need proof of address. You need a name. None of which I have. You think I didn't try?"

He closed his eyes and let out a sigh. OK, so, there was that. But still... "What was wrong with where the Bennets took you?"

She flinched at the mention of her family. "I don't have to explain myself to you."

"Fine, you're right, you don't," he said. He shook his head. "At least you're out of jail now, I suppose. Until the next time you get thrown in."

"It was bad luck," she mumbled. "Parkman decided it was his morning for a moral crusade against the evils of the city. Most of the cops don't care."

"Oh, of course," Nathan said. "My mistake. Shoulda just left you there."

"Where, in the alley, or at the police station?" Claire'd turned her back on him again, walking over to the nearest window and looking out.

"Either/or." He took a sip of his drink; it was too sweet, and he pushed it aside. "So is this my punishment?"

"What is your punishment?" Claire frowned, not sure what he was talking about. Or why he was making it all about him, except that he was Nathan Petrelli, and that seemed to be how he worked. Even Meredith had said so.

"You coming here, like this--is this for refusing to talk to you?"

"Yes, Nathan. I came to New York and became a hooker because you wouldn't talk to me." Claire rolled her eyes, sarcasm thick.

"Then why?"

She didn't say anything for a long time. "Can I take a shower?"

He waved a hand. "Fine. Go ahead."

Claire just nodded, going back to the table do drop her barbeque sauce off, then grabbing her things and heading for the bathroom, closing the door behind her. She was in the shower within a minute, the water turned so hot it was burning her skin. Not that it mattered.

He stayed at the table a while, before tidying everything up, putting the ice cream in the freezer. He listened to the shower running, and then went to sit on the couch, staring at the blank television screen and trying hard not to think too much.

It was a long time before Claire came out again, steam billowing after her as she came into the room, dressed, but barefoot, lugging her bundle after her. She'd sold or traded all of her 'normal' clothes, leaving her in a skin tight tank top and miniskirt, short black hair combed back from her face.

Nathan turned to watch her. "You look so different," he said, quietly. He frowned, then turned back to watching the turned-off television.

She reached her hand up to touch the ends of her hair, then let it drop again. "No one recognizes me like this. It's better."

"Not no one," he said. "I did. Parkman did. I just didn't recognize you right away because it was dark. And because I was drunk."

"Parkman didn't recognize me until after he got inside my head. You... I didn't recognize you either," she said, fidgeting with her hands and shifting in place.

"Well, like you said, I had a rat glued to my face. Or was that taped?"

"Taped. But either way, you didn't look like you." Not that she'd spent that much time with Nathan.

"No, I guess I didn't." He rubbed a hand over his chin again. "I'd never grown a beard before."

"I'd avoid doing it again. It really didn't suit you." She blinked, not sure why she'd bothered to say that. "Anyway... I should... go. I'm sure you're busy."

"Busy? Sure, I've got lots of sitting around and drinking to do," he said with a shrug.

"That's not good for you, you know." Again, the words were out before she could call them back.

"Neither's getting fucked in alleys by strangers," he countered.

"I can't get hurt... remember?" He'd seen her put herself through a window and fall several stories, only to walk away, so he should know that. "It doesn't matter."

"Uh huh," he said. "And you're absolutely sure that this ability of yours keeps you safe from unpleasant diseases?"

"I haven't been sick since it manifested. And I've been tested." She hadn't wanted to take the risk of letting someone take a blood sample, but she felt she had to.

"And if you can't afford your cheap hotel room, you can afford birth control... how, exactly?"

"Free clinics." She was bristling, getting irritated again by Nathan's pushing.

"Ah," he said. "Right. Of course." He looked at her for a long moment. "How much do you want?"

She folded her arms across her chest. "I'm sorry?"

"If you wanted to find some little place to live, I could cover your rent for you for a few months."

Claire stared at him, then laughed, sounding bitter. "Right. This lesson I already learned. Petrelli Problem Solving 101--throw money at the problem and hope it goes away. I'll save you the first step and move right on to the second one," she said, bending over to pick up her things, and looking for her shoes.

He got up and grabbed her arms. "Are you going to keep running away from everything?"

She dropped her things and pulled hard, trying to jerk out of his grasp. "You're really in no position to lecture me, you know--just let go, and you can go back to pretending I don't exist!"

Nathan held her a little tighter. "You've got your entire goddamn life ahead of you. Why are you doing this to yourself?"

"Let me go--you're not my fucking father!" she yelled, angry tears forming in her eyes.

He let go, shoving her back not particularly gently. "Fine," he said. "Then go. Do whatever the hell it is you need to do."

She bumped into a coffee table as she was shoved back, losing her balance and falling to the floor, landing hard. She went to get up, then just... stopped, closing her eyes tightly and biting the inside of her cheek to keep from crying.

"Claire..." He crouched down next to her, but didn't touch her. He didn't dare. "I'm sorry. That wasn't... I shouldn't have. I'm sorry."

"He's gone," she whispered, not looking up or opening her eyes.

For a moment, he figured she meant Peter. But for some reason, he wasn't quite so sure, so he didn't say anything.

"My dad. He's gone. He went... I don't know where he went, since whatever he told us had to be a lie. And he didn't come back." Claire's voice was soft, barely above a whisper, the words coming out of her in a neutral, almost numb way.

"And then they came for me. Every time it's happened, my family ended up getting hurt. My mom... so many times. Sylar, people from the Company... she saw me shot and killed once, before she knew I could heal. I couldn't let them use my family to get to me any more. So I ran here."

Nathan took a moment to digest all of this. "Claire, I'm sorry about what's happened. I’m sorry about your dad. If I could find him for you, I would. But--but you didn't think, not for a second, that coming back to New York was a bad idea? They're here."

"They're everywhere. I thought... I thought I could hide better if I went where they'd never expect me to go." And she'd thought that Nathan would help her. She'd called him three times between LA and New York. He hadn't answered once.

"I should have done better for you." He sat down, leaned back against the couch. "I'm sorry."

"But I didn't do this to punish you. I didn't ... I didn't know what else to do," she murmured, opening her eyes, but still looking down. "I had to keep my family safe. What's left of it."

He reached out and lightly touched her hair. "I know. That was unfair of me to say, wasn't it. You don't have to go if you don't want to. Take the bed, get yourself settled in."

"I'm smaller... I can sleep on the couch. I've slept on worse," she said, shaking her head lightly, hair falling into her face. She still wasn't used to having it short.

"Yeah, we'll see about that," he said. "Besides, it's still early and we've got plenty of time to argue about that."

Claire almost laughed, bringing her hands up and absently rubbing her upper arms. It wasn't exactly warm in the apartment, and she wasn't really dressed for the temperature.

"Let me get you a shirt," he said, and got to his feet. He wasn't about to take no for an answer, so he quickly made his way to the bedroom, poking through the closet and finding one of Peter's sweaters. It was going to be far too big for her, but as long as she was warm...

She nodded and watched him go, staying put on the floor. Lifting her head when he came back, she looked at the shirt. "That's not yours."

"No, it's his. But he'd want you to wear it."

"Are you sure that you want me to wear it?"

"Yeah. I'm sure. Go on." He held it out, and sat down on the couch again when she took it.

She pulled the shirt over her head and rolled up the sleeves, smiling when she saw just how big it was on her--as long as her skirt, not that that was saying much. "We're not exactly the same size, are we?"

"No," he said. "Good thing Peter's short." He knew he was only an inch taller. They did not inherit their height from their mother's side of the family. Bone of contention, that.

"I miss him," she said, biting her lip and looking down. "I'm sorry. I know... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up."

"So do I," Nathan replied. "More than anything."

"What happened to you? I'm not the only one who changed."

"Peter's gone. I don't know where he is. My wife and sons are gone. I know where they are, but I'm not allowed to see them. I mentioned the part where my mother's in jail, right?" And I fucked my daughter in an alley.

"Have you heard anything? About Peter?" Claire didn't know what to say about all that--sorry didn't seem like close to enough. But she couldn't help believing that Peter was still alive.

"No," Nathan said. "Not a thing. But he'll be back. I know he'll come back. He has to."

"I don't think he's dead. He can't be dead. He's just... I don't know. Lost. Somewhere." She looked at Nathan again. "If you think he's going to be back, then... why are you letting it do this to you?" If he could grill her about what she was doing, surely she had the right to ask a few questions.

"He's been gone too long. Or maybe he isn't coming back. It just seemed like the thing to do, I suppose."

"He wouldn't want that. You know he wouldn't want that," Claire murmured.

He glared at her for that. "Well, he's not here right now."

She looked away, stung by the glare, especially since he'd tried exactly the same thing on her, talking about her parents. She pushed up off the floor and stood up, Peter's shirt almost coming to her knees.

He looked at her legs, for just a moment, then up at her. "That wasn't very fair of me, either, was it?" He got to his feet and went back into the kitchen to find something to drink.

She didn't answer, watching him go to the kitchen instead. "Is there food?" she said, following after Nathan after a beat or two, watching him. "Should I... I could go get something. Dinner."

"There's some more food. But if you want something that's not there, grab some cash from my wallet and go find something." He kept his back to her.

"Right," she said, grabbing her boots and slipping them on, leaving his wallet untouched on the table, but grabbing Nathan's key to the apartment. Stepping quietly, she heading for the door and outside, closing the door behind her and walking quickly down the hall. Leaving Peter's shirt on the back of the sofa.

Drink in hand, he went and sprawled out on the couch again. He had no idea if she'd be back. He cared, he knew he did, but he couldn't quite dredge up the emotion right now. Maybe he was still in shock. Maybe he was in denial. Either way, he didn't want to think right now. At all.

*

Comments

[dragonydreams.livejournal.com]

Excellent new chapter! I liked the comparisons with the fries and chicken nuggets. (I'm like Peter - honey on the nuggets, ketchup on the fries.)

[linden-jay.livejournal.com]

Everyone's so strange and specific when it comes to their fries and chicken nuggets. It seems it's a universal thing, even in fanfic. Also, I'm pretty sure Ash started that part, so if you liked it, she gets the credit!

And thank you!

[joanna-484.livejournal.com]

The 2 mentions of how the Petrelli approach to problem-solving is to throw money at the problem are really apt *lol* I think it's also really interesting how you deal with the aspect that, as rich as Nathan probably is (or was), it makes sense that his money's bound to start running low if he's jobless and spending what he has on alcohol. I love all these details that make the story more authentic.

It's good to find out about Claire's situation, how she got to where she is...

Aw, the signs that Nathan and Claire care about each other are slowly emerging! :D They argue and chastize because they care ;)

Super chap!

[linden-jay.livejournal.com]

Yeah, the whole Petrellis throwing money at things to solve problems really is quite appropriate, isn't it?

I'm not quite sure what Nathan's financial situation would be at this point. I'm sure that Heidi and the boys are getting money, maybe family money is tied up with Mama in jail... I'm not sure. Maybe Nathan's gotten so drunk he can't remember how to work a bank card.

And yeah, Claire had to have a Reason to end up where she did. Nathan doesn't have to like the reason, but she had one.

Thanks for reading!

[shimmeree.livejournal.com]

BBQ sauce FTW. XD

I really liked this chapter.

[linden-jay.livejournal.com]

Claire has Opinions on barbeque sauce. Basically, she'll eat it on just about anything. French fries. Eggs. Sandwiches. Strange creature.

Thank you for reading!

[loopyfrood.livejournal.com]

She's a good little Texas girl. ;)

[holly-archer.livejournal.com]

I loved This Chapter Lol :)

[linden-jay.livejournal.com]

Yay, thank you! Glad you're enjoying it! More soon.

[holly-archer.livejournal.com]

I Hope So..Its Amazing

[lincolnimp.livejournal.com]

i really like how you write the characters so far :) (now moving on to the next chapter^^)

[linden-jay.livejournal.com]

Yay, thank you! ashinae writes Nathan, and I write Claire, and it works out well for us. Glad you like it!