InsaneJournal

WHO: Claire Bennet, Priestly, with Noah Bennet joining in later
WHAT: Claire's worst fear becomes a reality.
WHEN: Around 11PM
WHERE: Claire and Priestly's apartment
RATING: TBD (Somewhat high due to violent imagery and character deaths.)
STATUS: In Progress

Priestly was working late at the sub shop and Dean was off... being Dean, somewhere. Claire wasn't sure where but as she wasn't his boss, or his girlfriend, or mother, or in any way related to or responsible for him, she wasn't overly worried about it. Instead she was focusing on enjoying the first evening she'd had to herself, in the apartment, in what felt like forever. She fully intended on spending a relaxing couple of hours pampering herself, without any external interruptions.

The first step came with turning off her PDA. That was followed quickly by running a bubble bath with water so hot that it all but blistered her skin when she slid down into the tub. She took her time in the water, staying in until it had grown almost cold. Following the bath she planned on painting her toenails and then curling up with a cheesy romance novel until her solitude had ended.

She got as far as picking out the nail polish when her entire world went black and she crumpled to the ground in a heap.

Claire regained consciousness in an alley she didn't recognize, wearing clothing she didn't own. Her hair was pulled back in a tight, high ponytail and there was something cold pressing into her stomach. As her fingers wrapped around the item she realized that it was a gun... and that the faint dripping she was hearing just off to her left was blood falling from a fatal head wound belonging to a man slumped against the wall of the alley. Horrified, Claire rushed toward the victim only to have his mangled features become recognizable and stop her in her tracks a few feet away.

It was Peter, and he didn't just have a single gunshot wound. The entire back of his skull was gone.

Sucking in a breath, she stumbled back from the sight and stared in horror at the gun she was now gripping tightly in her hand. Her arm spasmed, fingers trembled, and Claire quickly turned away and began to half-run, half-stumble toward the traffic she could just make out up ahead. By the time she'd exited the alley, her stomach was churning and the world was blurry around the edges.

I killed him, was the horrific thought that kept flashing through her mind. I killed him! Dropping to her knees on the sidewalk, the gun clattering loudly as it made contact with the hard ground, she dry heaved a few times and choked on the sob that was stuck in her throat. The sound of footsteps rapidly approaching barely registered. It wasn't until she heard the click of another firearm that she finally took notice.

And reacted on pure instinct.

Still gripping the gun tightly, she spun on her knee - the cement biting off skin as she moved. She felt the impact of a bullet in her shoulder, another in her gut, but she was too busy firing her own weapon to take notice. Two, three, four shots and her brain finally caught up with the rest of her. It was then and only then that the identity of her would-be attacker was realized and Claire felt her world shatter a little more at the sight of the man who had raised her falling to the ground, dead from her own hand.

The streets became a blur after that. Her feet pounded against the pavement, her lungs drew in oxygen, her tears continued to fall, but Claire didn't pay attention to any of it. She simply ran. To where, she didn't know. From what, she wasn't sure. She just knew she had to get away, had to find someplace she could go where she couldn't hurt anyone else. Where the guilt would feel more sincere and less easily justified. Where-

Her shriek was muffled as her feet left the ground. The sound of the air whooshing past her ears disoriented her and it wasn't until she'd broken through the stratosphere that she understood just what was going on and who was holding her tightly in his grasp.

"Nathan." His voice came out a soft whisper, sobs of relief bursting from her chest. She leaned her head forward, seeking solace in his broad shoulders, only to feel him stiffen at the embrace. Her expression was wary, bordering on horrified, as she peered tearfully up at him. "Please, Nathan, I didn't-"

"Pete's dead." His voice was tight. Choked. She wasn't sure if he was trying not to cry or had cried so much that he just couldn't anymore. As terrible as it might seem, part of her really didn't care. "He's dead. Ma's dead. Bennet's-" He stopped himself, his dark eyes filled with barely suppressed loathing as he stared down at her. "You killed them, Claire. All of them. You're no better than Sylar. I may not have been able to stop him, but I will stop you."

Claire wasn't sure why, or how, but somewhere during his brief speech she had stopped caring. Whatever it was that was inside of her, whatever kept her connected to a humanity that she didn't feel she shared much in common with anymore, it snapped at his condemning statements. So by the time he'd finished speaking, she already knew what she was going to do. She didn't hesitate, didn't even flinch. She simply pressed her gun into his ribcage and gave him a sad sort of smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"No, Nathan," she whispered, "you're not. No one is."

She felt the gunshot more than heard it. Felt his body go rigid, his grip on her slacken. Felt the air rush past as they both began to fall from the sky. What she didn't feel, however, was the concrete as it slammed into her body. She didn't feel her limbs shatter or her insides turn to liquid. She didn't feel the telltale tingle of everything resetting itself.

Instead, she felt the soft carpet that lined the floor of the bedroom she shared with Priestly, and the gun that was still held tightly in her grip despite the fact that she was still in her bathrobe and Nathan - alive, dead, or otherwise - was nowhere to be found. She could also hear the last echoes of her scream as it reverberated throughout the apartment, as well as footsteps rushing toward the bedroom door.