Title: Heroes and Damsels

Summary: A could be scene following the events of “Fallout”

Fandom: Heroes

Pairing: Peter/Claire

Prompt: Never judge a book by its cover for <lj user=10_cliche_fics>

Disclaimer: Not mine. They belong to a bunch of people that aren’t me.

 

He watches her curled up asleep in the cracked vinyl arm chair next to his bed. He knows he should be resting himself. He was in a coma less than twenty four hours ago. And now he’s not. He can’t help but think her constant vigilance has something to do with that.

 

He turns on his side, wincing slightly as his bruised ribs hit the stiff hospital mattress. Clenching his teeth, he holds in a hiss of pain, reminding himself that the pain is worth it if he can get a closer look at her. He settles, curling one arm underneath his head and relieving the ache in his side slightly.

 

Her hair is tangled around her in a mess of curls and he wants to reach over and smooth it away from her face. She looks content now, peaceful and unscathed. He couldn’t say the same thing about her hours ago when they were both running for their lives.  She looks vulnerable, tiny and he wants to put his arms around her and protect her from the world. He’s felt that way from the moment he saw Isaac’s painting of her.

 

It’s all an illusion, physically as well as mentally. Not only did she have the power to heal herself and him, she came back for him. She could have kept running, probably should have yet she came back for a stranger. He’s here because she’s not vulnerable. Without this tiny, beautiful girl, he wouldn’t be alive. He was supposed to save her and in the end she wound up saving him. He wonders why Isaac didn’t paint that, why that future wasn’t shown to him. Was it because it could go either way? Or was it a test? It would have been easy to jump if he’d known she’d bring him back to life.

 

A nurse walks in, interrupting his thoughts.

 

“You should be asleep,” she tells him in a quiet voice. She looks at him disapprovingly, assessing his condition and apparently finding the minute signs of pain in his eyes, across his brow. “If you’re in pain I can give you something for it.”

 

“No.” He knows that any pain medication will make him fall asleep. He doesn’t want to sleep. He wants to watch her, to figure out what comes next and what this all means.  She’s the key to all of this, save the cheerleader, save the world. He doesn’t know how yet, but for her sake, for his sake, he’s going to figure it out.

 

A part of him is afraid that if he sleeps again, he’ll miss it. He’ll miss the clue that tells him what saving this cheerleader had to do with saving the world. The rest of him is just scared that if he sleeps he’ll miss her next breath or the way she furrows her brow in her sleep.

 

“Do you want me to wake her up and make her leave? She’s been here for hours,” the nurse asks with a nod toward the arm chair.

 

“No,” he says a bit too loudly. The nurse hesitates and then nods.

 

 “Alright but if you don’t get some rest I’ll make her go home.”

 

“I’ll rest,” he promises the nurse. “I feel better, really.” He’s been repeating the same words for the last six hours or so. No one wants to believe him. He knows it’s because it’s impossible for him to feel better. It’s impossible and yet because of the girl across from him, it’s happening.

 

She stirs in the chair, unfurling like a cat, all golden limbs and grace.

 

“Oh…hey…you’re awake,” she says around a yawn. She racks her fingers through her hair trying to set some order to it.

 

“Because of you,” he says, his eyes never leaving her. She falters and he knows it’s because of his concentrated stare but he doesn’t want to look away.

 

She shrugs, glancing up at him again and smiles. “That works out since I’m kinda alive because of you. And don’t start with the excuses about just being a guy. I don’t know anyone else who would jump from a five story amphitheater to save some girl they didn’t know.”

 

“Then you aren’t hanging out with the right people,” he jokes, one corner of his mouth quirking up in a crooked grin.

 

“Dang, fell into the wrong crowd and didn’t even notice,” she jokes back and sits down in the armchair. She pulls one knee up to her chest and curls her arms around it. “How are you feeling?”

 

“Good…not that anyone in here would believe me.”

 

She smiles and ducks her head in a half nod. “Yeah…I spent a whole night in the hospital once without a scratch on me because no one would believe I was okay.” She looks back up at him and wrinkles her nose. “It sucks. I could break you out…maybe. Okay, probably not,” she half laughs.

 

 She makes him smile, probably more then he’s smiled since his father died, since he found out it wasn’t a heartattack and that he’d found this life so lacking, he’d killed himself.  Peter shifts in the bed, in an attempt to get comfortable and she moves to sit on the edge of his bed.

 

“The controls are here,” she points out the buttons on the railing of the bed. “You want to sit up more or lay down more?” she asks as she starts pressing buttons.

 

“Hey, hey, be careful you’ll fold me up like a taco,” he grins.

 

“Nah ‘cause then I’d be folded up with you,” she giggles and plays with the buttons some more until she has him half sitting up. “That’s better isn’t it?”

 

He nods. “Yeah, it is. Are you-you’ve been healing me…haven’t you?” He feels a little guilty, keeping her here all this time. Surely she has school or friends or homework. At the same time, a very selfish part of him wants her in his sight.

 

She looks down at her hands and nods. “Yeah…I mean…probably. That’s not-“ she pauses and looks back up at him. “I’d be here anyway. Even if I weren’t…” she gestures toward him “healing you.”

 

There’s a beat of silence, both of them looking at each other then he lowers his gaze and nods. “Thank you…for being here either way.”

 

“You’re my hero. There’s no where else I’d be,” she says with a shrug, brushing off his thanks.

 

He shakes his head and she reaches out, putting her fingers against his lips.

 

“No denying it. Not in my presence,” she teases. He looks up at her, catching her eyes with his own and an innocent moment turns into something more. It slips between them, the way she looks at him, the way he can’t help look at her. Words hover unspoken, desires and feelings remain unvoiced. His eyes darken and hers plea for something she doesn’t even know she wants yet but it lingers there anyway.

 

She thins her lips and slowly draws her fingers away, curling them into her palm as she pulls her hand away, tucking it behind her back. She looks down at the floor, her brow furrowing.  “Just…don’t. When you-it’s like it didn’t happen if you deny it,” she whispers.

 

Her words lie over them in a blanket of silence and after a moment he reaches out and curls his fingers around her wrist. He notices that they’d wrap almost twice around it.

 

“I like being your hero.”