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Nathan Petrelli ([info]aleaderwillrise) wrote in [info]heroic_essence,
@ 2008-08-01 04:04:00

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Who: Nathan Petrelli, Claire Bennet, Brooke Dawson
When: Somewhere between 12:30 and 12:45 in the afternoon
Where: Brooke's apartment
What: Setting the record straight

She was just a kid, so why was he so nervous? He spent the majority of his time meeting with the top executives of all sorts of corporations, hoping they'd back him in this political race. He spent hours making promises about how he'd better the community and the city as a whole, even going as far as to make claims about what he could do for this country if he was given the chance to represent the grand state of New York by gaining a seat in Congress. He had a staff member for everything at his beck and call twenty four hours a day if he requested their assistance, and he was nervous about meeting with one teenage girl. It was unnatural and unacceptable. What frustrated him the most was that he knew he had to keep a level head. Claire would be emotional and confused, and Nathan would have to be the one to stand there and calmly explain to her that not only did they have no past, but they could have no future.

Compromising on this would be a fatal mistake. He'd already made up his mind about what had to be done, and yet his resignation could easily be shattered if he let what she had to say affect him beyond the surface. Usually that wouldn't be a problem. Peter was the only one in the Petrelli family with a huge heart. Speaking of Pete, Nathan was starting to realize that he might've come down a little too hard on the guy. This was his mess. Supposedly Ma had taken care of it, but even she hadn't seen this one coming. So why should Peter have suspected anything? It was just a highly stressful situation. Add that on top of the pressure he was already facing, and it was easy to become overwhelmed, which shortened his temper. Even someone as calm and collected as Nathan ran across rough patches, and this was one of them.

He'd made sure he wasn't followed before entering the building. From there, he began searching for the apartment number she'd given him. It didn't take long to find.

Once he stood just outside it, he removed his sunglasses and slid them into his pocket, then glanced at his watch: 12:42. Normally he was more punctual than this, but he'd had some last minute rescheduling to do. It's not like he was anxious to do this in the first place. At least he'd showed. But what choice did he have? He wasn't about to risk an infuriated Miss Dawson leaking this to the press out of spite. He didn't know her well enough to write off the possibility that she'd go through with something like that if he didn't speak to Claire. And perhaps a small part of him wanted to see his daughter one more time before he dismissed her from his life. Though eventually, she'd fly back to her home state of Texas and forget all about this: all about him. That's what he was counting on, anyway. Thinking along those lines made this easier.

He still hadn't told Ma. She always seemed to know what to do, but Nathan felt that he should personally deal with this one on his own. His mother couldn't shelter him forever, and she couldn't cushion the blow, not this time. It would hurt, but the pain would pass. Life would go on, and he'd continue doing what he felt he had to to keep his family going strong. Power and influence opened the door to a whole new world, and now that he'd gotten a taste, he couldn't let it go. The funny part about it all was that it wasn't just about ambition: it was about duty. He was the man of the house: the eldest son, the big brother, the husband. He had to take care of those already in his life. He didn't have the luxury of picking and choosing who he conversed with on a regular basis, no more than he could choose whether or not to embrace his only daughter.

After taking a deep breath to prepare himself for the task that lie ahead, he balled his hand into a tight fist and knocked on the door.


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[info]cheerhappy
2008-08-01 06:06 pm UTC (link)
Once 12:30 came, Claire sat rigidly on the sofa, staring at the clock. She was scared, really. She had no idea whether or not he'd really come. And she only half knew what she wanted to say to him. The next 12 minutes ticked by with achingly slowness, until finally there was a knock at the door. The blonde jumped a little, then looked at Brooke. After a moment she took a deep breath, then nodded, and watched her friend walk to the door to open it. Claire's eyes fell on him, her biological father, and she stood slowly. He seemed taller than he had the night before, for some reason.

Once he came in, Brooke gave her a faint smile for reassurance, then slipped out, shutting the door behind herself. Claire's mind fumbled to think of something to say. It was hard, though. She wasn't sure...finally she cleared her throat, meeting his eyes. "Are you...thirsty? I can-make coffee, or get you some water..." She trailed off slowly, feeling awkward. "..Thank you for coming." Because they both knew that he hadn't really had to. But it mattered that he did, right?

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[info]aleaderwillrise
2008-08-01 06:47 pm UTC (link)
When Brooke opened the door, the only reaction she got from him was a glare and a gruff, "Miss Dawson," accompanied by a stiff nod. They acknowledged each other by name only before she left, leaving him alone with Claire after shooting him a look which he interpreted as a silent warning for him to be nice or else. Great. As if he didn't receive enough threats. They were usually cloaked behind a fake smile and an offer meant to sugar-coat what was really going on, but the meaning behind it was the same if you got right down to it.

Claire, on the other hand, seemed to be the total opposite of her friend. Here he'd expected to find her a screaming, blubbering mess. Instead, she was offering to fix him something to drink. A kind gesture, but he would feel wrong in accepting it. He had his reasons for declining, although he didn't offer to share any of them when he cordially refused her catering to him. "No, thanks. I'm fine." As should've been expected, he was rigid and distant, not only in his mannerisms and what little he had to say, but in actual distance. He hadn't strayed far from the door ever since he entered. He'd anchored himself down a few feet in which left several more feet between him and Claire. From his behavior, one couldn't accurately predict whether he intended to stay or turn right back around and make a quick exit.

Realizing that if nothing got said on his part, they could carry on this staring contest forever, he'd break the lingering silence that'd settled after Claire's expression of gratitude. "You're welcome." After he lifted a hand to loosen his tie ( thing felt like it had put a choker-hold on him ), he gestured towards the sofa before crossing over and sitting. This would probably go better sitting down. He felt like he was towering over her all the time when they were standing. That's probably because he was.

"Despite the hype, I'm not good at this: interacting with people on a personal level. Maybe you should start." From there, he should be able to find the right words. But she was the one who'd initiated this meeting. So clearly she had something to say. He wasn't sure if he did - or whether he should say anything. Under the circumstances, it was probably best that he say as little as possible. Then again, that would sort of defeat the purpose of coming. If he didn't satisfy her curiosity or answer her questions now, she'd only come back later wanting to know more. That's how the world worked. If you tried to ignore a problem, it came back ten times worse in the future. Not that he viewed Claire only as a problem that needed to be solved, but he couldn't exactly rejoice over their little reunion. He couldn't afford to feel anything.

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[info]cheerhappy
2008-08-05 04:45 pm UTC (link)
Since he stood, Claire remained standing as well. She thought for a moment, thinking back to how she'd felt when she met her mother. She'd been in the hospital-though she'd been fine, physically. She hadn't had the opportunity to ask about her father. And since then, the questions had burned in the back of her mind. Her gaze studied him as he loosened his tie. Was he nervous? They raised to his face a moment later, looking for some sense of recognition. Something that told her he was hers. But there wasn't anything.

A moment later, he led the way to the couch. Slowly the blonde followed, sinking down at the opposite end of the couch, but facing him. "Despite the hype, I'm not good at this: interacting with people on a personal level. Maybe you should start." Despite herself, she nearly smiled. Big shocker there. She nodded slowly, looking down at her hands for a moment, then finally looking up to him.

"I met my mother. Recently. She...she told me there was a fire, and she thought I died. Did you know?" It was the first place she could think of to start, the beginning, more or less. Though she'd shared her secret freakiness with her mother, she wasn't sure that she could share it with this man.

At least in her biological mother's eyes, she'd seen some sign of love. His gaze, however, was cold. Blank.

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[info]aleaderwillrise
2008-08-06 04:06 am UTC (link)
"I was told you were dead." So yeah, he knew. He knew that she'd allegedly perished in that fire. What did it all mean? Nothing. The damage had already been done by the time he heard about it; there was nothing he could do but suffer the loss, and move on with his life. That's exactly what he had done. He'd mourned the death of his daughter in private: absolute secrecy. For someone who he hadn't stuck around to get to know, he'd been surprised at how much it hurt. Naturally, there was some regret. A lot of questions had surfaced too. What if he'd stayed? Could he have saved her? Could he have prevented the whole thing? If he had been any kind of father to the child that had supposedly been lost a long time ago, what would his life be like now?

It was always tricky to look back and re-examine the past. He didn't know from one day to the next whether what he was doing was the right thing or not. He carried out whatever action benefited him and the few he felt responsible for. Other than that, other people's problems were just that: other people's problems. It wasn't necessarily that he didn't care, but he couldn't fix the world. He couldn't even fix his own family. Some would say that he had anti-hero streak. Sometimes he even went out of his way to pretend that he wasn't phased by a traumatic turn of events or personal crisis. Maybe in a way he wanted to be hated, punished. Or maybe he only wanted to be feared. That increased the likelihood of him getting his way. It was really hard to tell. Why was it suddenly his job to save the masses? His hands were full, and contrary to popular belief, he wasn't the one calling all the shots. He didn't believe that for a second, and yet he went along with it. Why? Because he wanted to win.

Nathan repositioned himself on the cushion, turning so that he was more-so facing Claire who was looking at him with those sparkling, inquisitive eyes. It was in that moment that he realized that he was happy that she was alive and well. Despite the complications this could bring to his personal and professional life, being seated this close to her made him feel ... well, in short, it made him feel. Not an easy task. He kept himself heavily guarded: more than ever these past several months. It was almost like he'd been an entirely different person before the accident. And then after it ... he'd lost himself that night. Now he was just trying to find his way. To be honest, he hadn't been that successful at it. His home life was in shambles. Peter resented him, and Ma ... there were times when he thought he couldn't trust her: that she was the key to all of it. Somehow she had all the pieces to the puzzle and just wanted to see how many hoops he'd jump through if she commanded it.

His father had made his fair share of mistakes too, but when it came right down to it, Nathan Petrelli loved his family. He'd do anything to protect them. The one time he'd thought about turning against his own flesh and blood, and look what'd happened. He wouldn't do it again. Wrong or right, he'd defend them with every breath within him. And without really understanding why, this also applied to Claire. Sure, she was his daughter. They shared the same blood, but he didn't really know her. Still, it was almost like he did.

"About that, how ..." He trailed off, almost as if he'd reconsidered asking. Finally though, he proceeded. "What really happened?" As if she'd know. She'd been a baby at the time, but the question was thrown out there anyway. In the very least, he was expressing an interest. Meredith hadn't explained a whole lot. She'd claimed that it wasn't wise to discuss over the phone, and he hadn't had a chance to personally meet with her yet. Why should he ask his former flame, when Claire was sitting right here? Even though there was a high possibility that it would remain just as much a mystery to her as it was to everyone else. Some things you just couldn't explain.

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[info]cheerhappy
2008-08-06 12:56 pm UTC (link)
"I was told you were dead." She paused for a moment, thinking that over. "By who?" The question came automatically-she was curious, and she did want to know who it was. Who had believed her to be dead, and had told her parents that. And this lead to more questions.

Just how had she been adopted, if her birth parents hadn't even known she was alive? Did her dad somehow know?

"About that, how ... What really happened?" Her eyes met his for a moment. She could lie. Or she could tell him the truth. "I...don't know how the fire started. My...I mean, Meredith...didn't say anything." Did she have a right to call her mother? Or to call Nathan Petrelli her father? "I...survived, because..." She shook her head. "You'll think I'm insane if I try to tell you. I guess the only way is to show." Okay. Deep breath. Why did this always have to be so...dramatic? "I really hope you don't freak." The way she had? He might. Glancing around, she spotted Brooke's letter opener and picked it up. Not wanting to get blood on her clothes-or her friend's couch because WOW that would be hard to explain, Claire turned her hand over as she faced her father, then drew the metal point across her palm roughly, cutting her hand. A moment later, it began to heal, leaving smooth, unmarked skin, and the blood that had welled up.

"I...heal really fast. I guess I did, even back then." Her eyes lifted, looking up at his, pleading for understanding.

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[info]aleaderwillrise
2008-08-06 06:11 pm UTC (link)
Did it really matter who told him? His mother had confirmed it. Come to think of it, it was probably her that told him in the first place. The real question here was had she known that it wasn't true and deliberately lied to him about it? He'd like to think not: that she wouldn't do that. But this was the same woman who he suspected was conspiring with Linderman behind his back. He'd always love Ma; but these days he wasn't sure he could trust her. Then again, what choice did he have? He couldn't blame her for a plan that he'd willingly gone along with. He wanted to one day end up in the White House, and she knew of a way to make it possible. Apparently her and Linderman both, though he was a lot more wary of the latter. For one thing, he wasn't family. For another, there was a great deal of resentment for the pain he'd caused Nathan's family - directly or indirectly was debatable.

After a stiff shake of the head, he responded with a vague, "I don't recall." If she had any respect for him at all, it probably just dropped. What kind of man couldn't remember who'd told him his daughter burned to death in a fire? Granted, it had been many years ago. He was a busy man. Saw a lot of faces, met a lot of people. There was no way of knowing for sure that even if a face did come to mind, that was the right one. And he didn't feel like incriminating his mom, so he'd leave it at that.

As far as the answer to his question, she was a little more forthcoming.

Meredith. For a moment, his attention strayed to the woman that'd made him feel very much alive once upon a time. Those were the days: back before he had become totally consumed by politics and family tragedy. Before things had gotten so complicated, there'd been her. Fun and free, and boy, had she known how to make him laugh. He couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed. None of this being important now. He had a different life. A different family. And Claire was still talking - or ... not so much. Instead, she was reaching for a letter opener, prepared to show him how she'd survived. She was going to show him? That made no sense at all. Plus the 'you'll think i'm insane bit' had him a little worried. That was never a good introduction to any explanation. The words 'freak out' didn't bring him much comfort either.

Lips parted to protest when she started dragging the point across her palm, drawing blood, but just seconds later, there was no longer a mark: not even a scar. He had to scoot closer to examine her hand, loosely taking a hold of her wrist to make sure that it wasn't some kind of illusion, but it was very much real. It was gone. So ... she could heal herself. She had caught on fire and healed herself from that? Even as a small child she could ...

This meant a variety of things. Meredith hadn't been lying. This was, in fact, their daughter. It wasn't some con for money. Not only that, but like him, Claire had an ability. So it was a hereditary trait. What did that mean for Simon and Monty? Did Peter really have an ability too, and if so, how had they gotten stuck with it? It was all too much to take in at once. He'd thought he had his hands full with Peter, but now this. It was only getting worse, and he still didn't have the slightest comprehension of what was happening or why it was happening to them. Frankly, he didn't like it. He'd always strived to be extraordinary, but not like this. He saw this 'gift' as a curse, and he wanted nothing more than for it to go away. That was becoming increasingly harder every time someone else popped up and confided in him about some kind of power they possessed - or believed they possessed. Unfortunately, he couldn't refute Claire had healed herself. He'd seen it with his own two eyes.

Maybe he should reconsider that drink.

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[info]aleaderwillrise
2008-08-06 06:15 pm UTC (link)
She was looking at him with those pleading eyes, silently begging him to reassure her, or I don't know, maybe just tell her he wasn't freaked out and that this didn't change anything. But it did. It changed everything, though the look of astonishment had left his face, replaced by one of serious contemplation as he internally struggled with how he should react. At this point, he knew what he should and shouldn't say. The problem with that being that what he should say wasn't what he wanted to say. So he stalled until finally he found a reason to procrastinate his response just a little while longer. "I think I'll have that drink now." He didn't wait for her to get up and fetch it for him. He needed something stronger than coffee or water, and he was perfectly capable of locating any alcohol that might've been on the premises himself. Besides, Brooke seemed the type to have something tucked away.

He rummaged through the cabinets until he found a bottle of whiskey. Then he searched for the drinking glasses. Once he found them, he extracted one and poured himself a shot. This would do. However, not even something this strong could erase what was going on, and it didn't make Claire disappear. In fact, he was almost sure he heard a quiet rustle behind him. She'd probably followed him in.

Now was the moment of truth ... Why did the truth have to be so complicated? So uncertain? For the longest, he stood there, back turned to her, completely silent while frozen. He ran over his options again and again, and what he finally replied with wasn't at all what he'd hoped would come out. "Peter thinks he can fly. He was so determined that he jumped off the roof of our hotel to prove it. Nearly got us both killed." He wouldn't elaborate on how neither of them had ended up splattered all over the street. He wasn't sure he was ready to discuss that part yet. It was just easier to talk about his brother - Pete's issues, rather than his own. Could be that he needed to confide in someone, and in a weird way, she was the only one other than Peter he felt he could trust. Funny thing is, this was more relevant than she realized.

Reluctantly he turned back around to face her, although he kept his back against the counter. "I know you two hit it off. I also know that Peter would be a lot more receptive to what you're telling me: what you can do. Because if this is what you came to me for ... I don't have the answers. I'm sorry." He'd thought she'd want to know why he gave her up or why he never sent a birthday card or something like that, but she'd come to him with something far more complex. In a way it was flattering - that she would trust him with this. But maybe that trust was misplaced, because he still stumbled over even acknowledging he could fly, and maybe Peter could too. ( Although so far, the Peter Pan routine hadn't gone so well for Pete. )

"Although for what it's worth, I'm glad you're okay." Despite all the bad that came with it, at least her ability had saved her. For that he was grateful - though another part of him was scared as hell. Not necessarily of her, but of what was happening to all of them.

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[info]cheerhappy
2008-08-07 04:51 pm UTC (link)
He hadn't left the apartment. He hadn't called her something evil, and ran out. He hadn't hurt her. He simply believed her-although doing that right in front of him probably helped.

When he mentioned he wanted the drink, she started to get up, but he was too quick for her. Her eyes followed him as he walked to the kitchen. After a moment when he didn't return, the teen stood, and slowly followed. For several minutes, she stood in the doorway, watching as he drank-something. She wasn't sure what it was.

Finally, he spoke. She blinked as she remembered Peter. Her uncle. Meeting him had given her a family she'd never known-a grandmother, half brothers...not that she knew for sure she'd ever meet any of them. Her eyes shifted back to his face as she realized what he said, and her mouth twitched a little, then shifted into a smile. "He can fly?" That was kind of cool. The smile faded, though, as it became obvious that Nathan wasn't too happy about it.

"If this is what you came to me for ... I don't have the answers. I'm sorry." Her eyes flashed to him, a hurt look in them. "It's true that I'd like to know why this is happening to me....but that's not my only reason for wanting to talk to you." Though a month ago, she thought it was. "I...I'd like to know where I come from. What kind of people." She remembered suddenly what Brooke had said that morning, and looked away.

Slowly, she walked to the sink and turned on the water to was the blood off her hand and the letter opener. When she set it on the counter, she picked up a towel to dry her hands as she turned to him. "Brooke wants to blackmail you. To ruin your campaign, or go talk to your wife..." The towel was set aside very carefully. "I'd like you to know...I don't want that. I'm not going to do those things. I don't have the right."

How different would her life had been, had she been raised as his daughter? She took a deep breath and continued. "But...I think I do have the right to get to know you. To talk to you. I'm not going to bust in on your life...but I don't think I should be ignored, either. Not when we both have this chance...this opportunity...to know each other."

Claire met his eyes straight on. "You're my father. And I'm your daughter. I think we should both try and find out what that means." Well at least his daughter wasn't a pushover.

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[info]aleaderwillrise
2008-08-07 05:42 pm UTC (link)
"I said he thinks he can fly." All he'd seen so far is that Peter could fall, and that didn't make him 'special.' That could easily be explained by the law of gravity. But if he could fly and Claire could heal, it heightened the possibility that Pete could do something out of the ordinary: that he did possess an ability. Not that he planned on sharing this information with his brother - at least not right away. The last thing either of them needed was for Peter to test his self-acclaimed skills again. Nathan wasn't looking forward to leaping off any more rooftops, and he didn't fancy the idea of standing at the bottom of a really tall building saying 'jump, and i'll catch you' before his younger brother started plummeting towards the cement.

Apparently his displeasure about this startling revelation showed, because Claire's smile quickly faded. That's right. Everyone could paint him as the villain if they wanted to, but this was not a good thing. It wasn't cool or awesome or any of those other stupid words that declared just how ignorant a person was to be happy about this. What this meant was that they were a bunch of genetic freaks, and if anyone ever found out, they would be swept away to some top secret lab where they'd be experimented on and observed twenty-four seven. So no, he wasn't fond of any of this. He feared for his own reputation and safety, as well as the two who'd confided in him. His advice was to keep quiet, because if no one knew, no one would get hurt. It was as simple as that, but no one wanted to do anything the simple way anymore. They wanted to shout it from the rooftops or discuss it, research it. It just wasn't a good idea.

Knowing where she came from wasn't exactly going to make her feel better about herself either, if that's what she was wanting. On the surface, their family seemed to have it all, but there were plenty of skeletons in the Petrelli family closet. They'd all done things ( with the exception of Peter ) that they weren't proud of, but it was how they got to where they were. If Claire knew everything, she wouldn't be so anxious to call them family. Sometimes he wondered if Peter felt that way. His brother was loyal to a fault, but he was so easily disappointed. It's because he was still fairly young: naive. Claire was even younger, and he wanted nothing more than to shield her from the ugliness of the world.

What kind of people ... a question like that really made him step back and examine the person he'd become. Did he like what he saw? And if he didn't, why didn't he change for the better?

He'd hurt her feelings - already. He'd noticed the look. He had a way of being too rigid, too closed off. People took it personally, even when they shouldn't. So he had to do better. She was an amazing girl, and her strength and maturity about this whole situation impressed him greatly. Claire knew what she wanted, and she went after it, but she wasn't going to destroy anyone in the process. There weren't many left like her. As much as it pained him to know that he'd missed out on her entire life, maybe she'd turned out better because he wasn't there to turn her into someone else.

When Claire looked him square in the eye, he didn't look away or turn to make a quick exit. He could've easily offered an excuse for why he was leaving, just like he had at dinner the previous night, but he didn't want to. She wanted to know what it meant, and if he was really honest with himself, he wanted the same thing. But where to begin?

"I went to her funeral. Your mother's. I guess in a way it was yours too. I disappeared for days after that: canceled all my plans, wouldn't see anyone. It was the most lost I'd ever been." There'd been other times when he was unsure of things. The night of the accident had turned his life upside down too. But the point he was trying to make was that he did feel something for the family he'd left behind.

Then he fell silent. From there, she could ask him whatever she wanted. He was much better at responding.

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[info]cheerhappy
2008-08-10 09:14 pm UTC (link)
Claire's eyes never left him now. She was glad he stayed, and felt some relief when he spoke again. "..Where did you go?" There were so many other things she wanted to know. Had he been there, when she was born? Had he loved her? Had he loved her mother? Or was he married even then? The last question she thought not, since his sons were 'much younger' than her.

After a moment, she did indeed ask one of the questions. "Did...did you love me, when I was a baby?" She knew her adoptive parents loved her. There was no doubt of that. Never had been. But since she'd discovered she had been adopted, she'd always wondered...had she been loved, when she was young? Had she been conceived in love?

These questions probably shouldn't have really mattered, but they did, more than she'd known before. "You weren't with her, when the fire happened..." Had there been a fight? Had they left one another? Had it been because of her?

At that moment, she wanted so much to walk into his arms and be welcome, be hugged, but she was too afraid of rejection. Instead, she slowly wrapped her arms around herself.

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[info]aleaderwillrise
2008-08-10 09:58 pm UTC (link)
Here he'd always thought kids grew out of the question-asking phase, but she was sure pouring them out there. She wanted to know everything. But he'd volunteered, so as difficult as it was, he tried to answer every one. Not that it was particularly easy. Remembering his actions and the motives behind them so many years ago didn't bring forth an automatic response. It didn't help that he was taking this so seriously. He wanted to be accurate, not that she'd know the difference. He would though, and this was one situation where he didn't want to lie. There was no reason to: no profit in it. Besides, he couldn't look Claire in the eye and feed her a bunch of false information. Alright, so he'd admit it: he already had a soft spot for her.

"I traveled for awhile." It was the easiest way to get everyone off his back. Putting literal space between himself and everyone else granted him the freedom he needed to breathe. Plus, he was rich. Wealthy people could travel whenever they felt like it, because money wasn't an issue. He was permitted to come and go as he pleased. This was before he'd settled down: formed roots. This was back in the day when loving Meredith had seemed like a good idea instead of the train wreck it'd turned out to be. But that was another story ... a much longer one that he was sure would bore Claire and paint both her biological parents in a rather unflattering light. Best not to go there if he could help it - and he could. He always got to choose what he shared and what he didn't.

The second question caught him off-guard the most, probably because it was a 'feeling' question. Nathan could regurgitate facts all day long, but when it came to something of a more personal nature, he struggled. At some point in his life, he'd put up a wall, and no one penetrated that. Occasionally, he allowed Peter to see past it, but that's it. Not even his wife or Ma knew what he felt. At the end of the day, it was probably better that he not feel at all. But for the first time, someone else had broken through that wall. The same one who was standing here asking him if he'd loved her as a baby. How could she ask something like that? "Of course I did." It seemed obvious to him, but apparently it wasn't to her. So there it was; now she didn't have to wonder.

"Claire, your mother and I ... we were from different worlds. It never would've worked out between us. We separated after you were born, but I didn't want to give you up." In fact, they'd been in the middle of a bitter custody battle when the fire took place. Despite it all, he had loved Meredith once. It just wasn't meant to be. The child had been unexpected, and then before either of them could settle their differences and possibly salvage their relationship for the sake of their daughter, life had come and taken everything away - or so he'd thought. Then again, neither of them had been very selfless at the time. If they had been better parents ... if he had been a better man, who knows how everything could've turned out?

But there was no point in dwelling on what could've been.

"You were the one good thing that came out of my relationship with Meredith." He wanted her to know that she might've been an accident, but not a mistake. It's just that now everything was so complicated.

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[info]cheerhappy
2008-08-14 05:25 pm UTC (link)
She leaned against the table as she watched him think before answering her question-but at least he was answering. She honestly just wanted to know about her father...what kind of a person he was and all. She cound understand travelling after something like that. Wasn't that what she'd done? She left Odessa almost right after the car accident-and she was here now.

Though eventually she'd have to go back.

Pushing thoughts of her home away, Claire returned her attention to him. When he said he hadn't wanted to give her up, she smiled a little. That was something at least. She had no illusions that they'd have a good life now (could his long lost daughter coming out really help his campaign? Probably not.) "You were the one good thing that came out of my relationship with Meredith." She studied him for a moment, and her smile grew.

"For what it's worth...I'm really glad you came today." She hesitated for a long moment, then spoke up again. "Is there...anything you'd like to know about me?"

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[info]aleaderwillrise
2008-08-15 04:15 am UTC (link)
"I'm glad too." When he'd agreed to meet with her, he'd had mixed feelings on the matter. Even when he'd gotten there, he still wasn't sure if coming here would make things better or worse. But it seemed to be bringing Claire some closure, and it was helping him deal with her unexpected arrival. His initial reaction had been fear. Funny how he could face off ( or shake hands ) with all kinds of opponents, but what terrified him the most was the opinion of this one kid: what she could do to him. It shouldn't have come as that big of a shock. One of his greatest ( and only ) concerns as far as how others viewed him ( from a personal standpoint ) was what his little brother thought. Sure, he wasn't that little anymore, but to Nathan, Peter would always be that same shy, scrawny kid with high expectations who needed to be sheltered so that he could continue to believe in the goodness of people.

When Claire asked if there was anything he'd like to know about her, a small crease worked its way across his brow. There were about a hundred different things he'd like to know, so deciding on just one was no easy task. Should he start with something basic like what she liked to do for fun, or ask her more about her ability? Did he want to know more about it? Did he want to know about the family she was with, the people that were raising her, or was he better off remaining selectively clueless? If he did find out who they were, would he be able to stay away indefinitely? He unfortunately already knew the answer to that. No. As objective as he was trying to be, he just couldn't stay away, just like he couldn't refuse to speak to her when she'd expressed an interest. She was his daughter, and that meant something to him.

"Where do I start?" He crossed over to the table and took a seat in one of the vacant chairs. "I missed out on your entire life." Not a fact he was all that proud of, but there wasn't anything he could do about it now. "Look, I ... I'd like to get to know you." But? There was no 'but.' "I want to hear about whatever's important to you, but I don't do small talk." He could try, but it'd probably come out sounding strange. Maybe if this were a game of twenty questions ... actually, that wasn't such a bad idea. In all honesty though, he was more used to being on the receiving end, so this was sorta new for him. You live and you learn.

"You're happy where you are? Texas, right?" Though he wasn't just asking about the location. He wanted to know if her life had meaning ... or in the very least, that she liked being Claire Bennet. He wasn't prepared to whisk her away if she was disappointed or unhappy with the condition of her life, but there could be aspects of it he could improve. And perhaps he was also curious as to whether her parents ... to be frank, whether they deserved her. He wanted to know that Claire was in good hands.

She could take that question in almost any direction, and he felt confident in assuring her, if need be, that he wanted to hear her response to however she'd interpreted it. At this point, it didn't really matter what she said. Sure, he cared, and he paid close attention whenever she spoke. But just being able to sit here and have a conversation with his one and only little girl ... that alone made all the difference. It was strange how a person could be so certain of who they were and who they weren't, yet a select few could come along and cause that same person to question everything he stood for. Such was the case here. It was for those people that he wanted to be a better man.

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[info]cheerhappy
2008-08-16 09:47 pm UTC (link)
After a moment she slowly walked over and sat across from him-interestingly enough in the same chair she'd sat in that morning, across from Brooke. Claire nodded a little, studying him as he spoke. She couldn't help the small thrill she felt when he said that he did want to know about her.

"You're happy where you are? Texas, right?" Claire hesitated-life hadn't been that good of late. But then she slowly nodded. "Yes....I live in Odessa. It's a small town mostly, but not too small. I'm a cheerleader at high school." Though it wasn't something she was completely happy about. Her thoughts wandered for a moment back to that day, six months ago, when she'd been given the outfit-and had been significantly less happy when she'd learned of the circumstances of the previous girl leaving.

Now, she understood.

But she wouldn't think about that right now. "I'm going to be looking at colleges soon...but I'm not sure yet where I want to go, or what I want to do."

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[info]aleaderwillrise
2008-08-17 04:43 am UTC (link)
"You're a cheerleader?" He inwardly cringed at the way the question came out. He wasn't trying to be condescending or put the 'sport' down if it was something she thoroughly enjoyed. But cheerleaders were viciously stereotyped - almost as bad as politicians. Some of the status quo qualities were flattering, some weren't. One thing that was pretty much guaranteed was that the girls bouncing up and down pepping up the home team and the audience that'd showed up to support them were usually hot. He remembered way back when he was a teenager in high school, and how he'd felt about the girls on the cheerleading squad. He'd almost gotten himself into trouble a couple of times. Unfortunately, they weren't always very loyal. He hadn't been some big playboy back in the day, but he'd dated a few of the girls, and- ... why was he thinking about this? Oh. Right. Claire was a cheerleader. He just hoped that she didn't get the wrong kind of attention from boys. He wanted to protect her, that's all.

"To each his own. Or ... her own." He made the one tiny edit necessary to make the popular phrase apply.

Ah, high school. He wished he could tell her things would get easier, but it'd only gotten worse from there. He wouldn't tell her that part, but after high school came college. And after college came the real world. Of course, his life's path had to be paved with even more broken glass than most people's, because he'd always had to be the best. The strongest, fastest, smartest: always top of his class ... on to valedictorian. A title he'd earned and was proud of, but still. Average had never been good enough. Not for this family. Not as far as he was concerned. He had to be better than everyone else, and it hadn't been easy. He'd still slipped up: made plenty of stupid mistakes ( as everyone did when they were young and naive ), only most of them were easily forgotten. The good greatly outweighed the bad. The downside was that he'd always been the one setting the example, so he'd missed out on a lot of the 'fun.'

"So you're a cheerleader. That's great. I know we certainly appreciated ours back when I was in school." He'd been one of the few jocks who could toss a football and ace a test. Imagine that. But he'd been built for the sport, and being popular, it just came with the territory. He'd primarily focused on his grades though. He had to, because his parents had always been all over his case about it. The only problem he really had with her popularity was how it could affect her. He didn't want to see her corrupted or negatively influenced by falling in with the wrong crowd, and it was easy to do. Especially someone as kind and trusting as she was. But she was also smart, and he could easily see her brightening someone's day. So he'd leave it alone.

College. Now that was going to be a whole new ballpark.

"New York has an excellent selection of universities. It would probably be easy to find whatever you're looking for up here. I could even pull a few strings." What was he doing? He couldn't promise her that. Besides, why would she want to come all the way up here just to go to school? She was probably thinking of someone closer to home: her home, not his. It'd just slipped out before he could give it much thought. Some would call it a natural reaction, but he was too stubborn to admit it. So instead, he tried to redirect his response and lead it in a different direction, commenting now on the last part of what she'd said. "Choosing what you want to do for the rest if your life is a very important decision. You should take all the time you need to make up your mind." Or else she could be wandering around in circles for years. Or worse, five years down the road, maybe even ten, she'd look back and realize that she was stuck on a road she didn't recognize anymore.

Nathan wanted the best for Claire. He wanted her to be healthy, happy, and satisfied with the way her life turned out. These were the types of decisions that defined a person.

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[info]cheerhappy
2008-08-26 08:58 am UTC (link)
At the question he asked, Claire nodded. Absently she rested her hands flat on the table. She'd never known herself to feel this awkward about talking to someone. Now, when she should really be saying something, it was hard to find the words. When he mentioned his own high school, her eyes studied him, a faint smile on her lips.

"What did you do in high school? And college. What did you study?" Besides political science, obviously. Then he mentioned the local universities, and her smile grew a little. Inwardly, she thrilled that he might actually want her that close. "I'll keep that in mind..." Though she doubted she'd use his political pull to secure a place for herself. She probably would stay close to home-but it was nice to be wanted, at least.

Claire nodded at his last words. Being a cheerleader, she hadn't thought of her life after school until recently. She wondered what she might be able to do where she would be sure and not get hurt, and reveal herself as the freak she was. Pushing the thoughts aside for the moment, her attention was returned to him as she realized he was answering her questions.

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[info]aleaderwillrise
2008-08-26 04:43 pm UTC (link)
"Well, I would tell you that I was the model student: that I always took my education seriously and never skipped a class, but it'd be a lie. I wasn't all that different from your typical teenager. Fortunately, it was just a phase." He'd grown out of it - or maybe he'd just gotten tired of being reprimanded. Deep down, he'd always strived to rise to his family's expectations. This was made easier because he'd never been the jokester of the bunch. His sense of humor was not, nor had ever been, his strongest asset, but he had been curious - did a little experimenting in his youth. Nothing that could be dug up out of the closet and used against him in this election of course, but a few petty pranks and joyriding were sure to get mentioned if Claire had brought up his name to one of the people he'd hung out with back in the day.

Man, he hated that phrase. It made him sound so old. Everyone that was getting on in years always started out with 'back in my day ...' as if things were all that different now. Maybe a lot had changed, but there had to be a better way to phrase it. Geez. Somewhere along the line, he'd become his parents. Now he was the parent, and as Peter had so eloquently pointed out in the past, the old man.

What had he studied? A variety of things - most of which he hadn't the faintest interest in. Wasn't that how college usually went? "I double majored in law and business. Minored in political science. I wanted to fly jets, but Ma said that it was an unrealistic goal. My father, being an attorney himself, was thrilled when I chose to pursue a career in the field. If you could ever describe him as being thrilled. Perhaps proud is a better word. At one point, I'd considered becoming a stock broker ..." Wall Street had plenty of bountiful opportunities "... but then I decided I'd probably get bored." One thing he'd always been sure of was that he wanted a career that kept him going. He didn't want to kick back at some dusty desk job and spend his entire day on the telephone. It wouldn't be enough for him. Maybe right now things were a little too busy for his taste, but they'd have to slow down eventually. At least all the attention and constant jumping from place to place meant that he was moving up in the world.

"I played football for awhile, up until Peter decided he wanted to be just like his big brother and got himself hurt in the process. The blame fell on me, as if it was my fault Pete was a scrawny kid with no coordination or athletic ability." A brief break fell in between his last sentence and his next. Maybe he shouldn't have said that. There was such a thing as being too honest. "Don't tell him I told you that. He's incredibly sensitive, which means he'd probably come crying to me wanting to know why I told you he sucked at sports. Even though he knows he does." The implication there was that Claire and Peter were actually on speaking terms, and as far as he knew, they hadn't done much interacting aside from their disastrous group dinner last night. About that ...

His demeanor once again grew serious as he wondered what exactly had compelled him to share so much. He easily could've answered her question in just a few sentences, and he certainly never would've felt comfortable enough with anyone else to take a jab at his brother who he loved dearly, despite what he said or how he sometimes acted. But there was this easygoing feeling he got around Claire ... like he could trust her, tell her anything. The only other person he had a bond that strong with was Peter, and they'd grown up together. How could they not be close? Thing is, daughter or not, he barely knew this girl. ( He knew her a lot better now than he had a half hour ago, but still. ) Maybe he could trust her - maybe they could have more talks like this, but was it really fair to her to get her hopes up? Then again, it was a little too late to be thinking about that, wasn't it?

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[info]aleaderwillrise
2008-08-26 04:54 pm UTC (link)
"Look, I want to apologize for last night. When I realized that your friend knew, I had to get away, clear my head. But I want you to know that ... " He paused, his words getting lodged somewhere in the back of his throat. Obviously, he didn't do the whole heartfelt confession thing often. "It wasn't easy to walk away from you."

A heavy crease formed across Nathan's brow after that, although his eyes clearly expressed how sincere he was about his previous statement. However, what he had to say next was a very serious matter. Even more serious than a lot of the stuff they'd been discussing, and much more confidential. Still, he felt it was the right thing to say - the right direction to point her in. "I think you should talk to Peter. When you do, ask him about Vegas. He'll know what I'm talking about." She could heal herself, and Peter, for some reason, was convinced he could fly. Or maybe he was the one that could fly. Either way, if Pete had to tell someone about it before he burst, Claire should be that person. "But you gotta promise me that whatever he tells you, and whatever I tell you stays between us three, and us three only."

He'd leaned forward slightly in his seat, making sure his gaze was level with hers when he made the request. To imply that it was okay for her to know about the freak occurrence that only he and Peter knew about ( and unfortunately, Linderman seemed to know as well ) was a hugely progressive step for them. But he couldn't help but second-guess his decision because of how severe the repercussions could be. If Peter told Claire, would Claire tell Brooke? And if Claire told Brooke, would Brooke keep her mouth shut? Of course, if he'd known Brooke had an ability of her own, he might've felt a little more reassured, but he wasn't privy to that particular piece of information. His brother had failed to mention it, and thus Nathan remained in the dark about it ( no pun intended ).

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[info]cheerhappy
2008-09-10 12:01 am UTC (link)
As he talked about what he'd done in college, she rested her chin in the palm of the same hand she'd cut in front of him-unknowingly offering even more proof that she wasn't hurt. When he mentioned wanting to fly jets, a grin slipped onto her lips. "You could still do that, you know. I mean, take classes, and learn how to fly." So she believed. It shouldn't be too difficult, right? Though it probably would be, if he were elected as the senator.

She appreciated the fact that he really did seem to care about his brother. And it made Claire feel a little better about talking to him, opening up to him. She could see the love in his eyes when he talked about Peter, and a part of her hoped that, one day, he might have that when he talked about her.

When he apologized, she glanced away for a moment, then back to him. "She shouldn't have said anything to you. Not like that at least, I'm s...well, no I'm not sorry that she said it. But I'm sorry you were bullied into coming here." She let out a slow breath, then tilted her head when he told her to ask Peter about Vegas. Without hesitation, she nodded in response to his asked for promise. "I promise. I won't tell anyone." Promises were something she kept, at least.

"Could I...could I have your phone number?" She didn't want today to be the last time they ever spoke.

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[info]aleaderwillrise
2008-09-10 01:20 pm UTC (link)
He would be perfectly fine with never hearing the word 'fly' ever again. Sure, they were talking about piloting jet planes, but the phrase 'you could still learn how to fly' had a double meaning - one that made him extremely uncomfortable. Still, he was pleased with Claire's optimistic outlook on life. She had the mentality that a person could do anything they wanted if they set their mind to it and tried hard enough. He held a similar belief, although he'd rarely recommend everyone to follow their dreams. Sometimes it left a person disappointed, and other times it got them hurt. Nathan had learned to balance optimism with caution.

A smile broke out across his usually serious face when Claire almost apologized, stopped herself, then apologized for something else. "One thing you'll discover about me is that I'm incapable of being bullied." If he'd been determined enough to keep his relation to her a secret, he would've found a way to quiet Brooke. She'd said threats and bribes wouldn't work, but there was always something a person would respond to. He just would've had to put a lot of time and effort into finding out what that was, and truthfully, not only did he not have that kind of time, but he wanted it over and done with. He was already constantly looking over his shoulder. This was a secret a part of him had wanted to come out even though he wanted to keep this knowledge shared amongst only a select few.

He felt a little less uneasy about her talking to Peter when she promised she wouldn't repeat anything, but he still had his doubts and a few fears ( although he'd never admit it ) about all this 'i'm special, look what I can do' business that seemed to run in the family. Was he the common link? What did this mean? Did they expect him to have all the answers? Peter certainly did, but really, Nathan wasn't sure he wanted to know - though Claire appeared to have adapted to her ability amazingly well. If she could adjust, he could too ... maybe. Although being practically invincible seemed a lot handier than being able to fly.

It was just a lot to deal with on top of everything else.

His mind had begun to drift and the time had momentarily slipped away from him, but when he snapped back to the present and checked his watch, he was reminded of how long he'd been here.

She was asking for his number ... which was good, because he was about to have to bail. After retrieving a small notepad and pen from his pocket, he scribbled his digits down and slid the piece of paper over to her before standing to his feet. "You can call anytime." The number he'd given her belonged to his cell. He didn't want her calling the house for obvious reasons, and it would probably be easier to get in contact with him directly instead of going through his office. However, if for some reason his cell phone was turned off, she could always leave him a message at headquarters, and they'd give it to him. Either way, he wanted to keep their line of communication open too.

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