2007-08-27: Don't Worry About It


Jane_icon.gif Claire_icon.gif

Summary: Claire meets a guy on a bike.

Date It Happened: August 27th, 2007

Don't Worry About It

The George Washington Bridge , Manhattan, NYC

It's a nice warm day in the City, and Jane's out doing her thing. Her bandmates are in classes at NYU, she didn't have any session work at her recording studio, so she's taken to the streets. The twenty-something brunette of five feet and eight inches makes her way along Cabrini Boulevard toward 178th Street and the George Washington Bridge's south sidewalk.

She's got the almost ever present guitar case slung over one shoulder and a backpack over the other, her form clad in a pale blue tank top, dark shorts, low white socks, and a pair of athletic shoes. Her eyes are hidden by dark sunglasses. In one hand is a cup of coffee and the other holds a copy of today's New York Times. At her right hip is an iPhone with the buds in her ears.

Walking down the street, Claire Bennet is minding her own business. She likes minding her own business. It means that, most likely, no one else is minding it. With her hands shoved deeply into the pockets of her pink hoodie, the blonde is currently making her way down the street with her head lolled back and feet shuffling. With her head lolling backwards so she can watch the clouds (she's kinda bored, okay?), she is decidedly not paying attention to where she's going. Fortunately for her, most people seem to be moving out of her way, parting like the red sea before her.

She doesn't spot the blonde teen as she moves along her own path, eyes behind those shades focused on a spot near the bridge entrance which looks good for some spontaneous musicianship. Jane's lips are moving in time with whatever the iPhone is piping into her ears, the soprano voice quietly singing the lyrics. It doesn't carry more than a foot or two in front of her.

Most of the people around do indeed part like that biblical sea as Claire walks along, but not all. One of them is a bicycle rider coming along the south sidewalk of the bridge, down that steep ramp. Halfway down the brake cables snap, leaving him unable to slow down at all.

This too goes unnoticed by the guitar carrying brunette.

La la la la la. That could very easily be the soundtrack inside Claire's head. La la la la la la la l-OW.

That would be the score skipping a track as the blonde cheerleader completely misses all of the audible signals that trouble is afoot. As the bicycle that is riding illegally on the sidewalk barrels towards her without the luxury of working brakes.

Next thing she knows, Claire is laying down on the ground. And it hurts to breathe. Did… Did that bike on the ground just run over her chest?

The song playing on her iPhone changes as bicycle, rider, and cheerleader intersect. The new one is from Queen. Bicycle Race. Jane's eyes catch the crash happening barely ten feet away. The bike, it seems, did in fact run over the blonde's chest before spilling the rider and coming to a stop. He, a man of six feet and some one hundred eighty pounds, is laying on the ground and groaning from his own injuries.

She looks quickly from one to the other, and as Claire is closest to her she pulls the pods from her ears and quickly steps up to the girl. "Don't get up," she advises in a quiet comforting tone. "Help's being called for." And so it is, a few observers are dialing 911 on cell phones to report what they saw.

Claire makes a face as she feels things shifting in her chest, and as she pushes her shoulders backwards she feels a pop and then things start to feel better. Looking down, she sighs deeply as she notes that there isn't any blood on her jacket. Thank goodness for small mercies.

"I'm okay," she finally offers, already starting to push herself on her feet with a smile to Jane. "He just knocked me over. Don't worry about it."

She watches the girl start to get up, her face showing concern. The newspaper is set down, the coffee cup also, and Jane sheds her gear. "Are you? That was a pretty nasty looking crash." It doesn't occur to her the teen could be someone who heals like Peter does. As far as she's thinking right now, the girl may just have gotten lucky to not be hurt, or there could be internal injuries which will bite Claire later. "I still think you should just take it easy and get yourself looked at."

The bike rider is being tended to by a few other people where he lays on the ground still groaning.

While watching the cheerleader, Jane gathers her hair to stay out of her face and pulls something from a pocket to hold it in a ponytail. In doing so, her head dips forward and something is visible on the back of her neck near the tank top's edge. A set of familiar parallel lines.

"I'm fine," Claire reiterates, pulling her feet back under and finally standing. She dusts off her jeans and is about to say something else when her blue eyes spy something not entirely unfamiliar. Something that she desperately wishes was. She sees two matching little lines. Her eyes grow wide, and she goes very, very still for a moment. Suddenly, she pastes a huge, overcompensating smile on her lips and points off in a random direction. "So, I'm gonna just go. Nice to meet you! Sucks about the circumstances, but I really am cool." There's a wave at that. "Bye." And then she turns to leave.

Her eyes close for a moment, and her head shakes, then she starts to gather up her belongings. Sure, there's a risk of internal injuries which could be felt later as far as Jane knows, but the girl seems unhurt enough to get up and walk away, so she'll let it go. The smile is returned. "You too," she offers.

When she lifts her copy of the Times, what's facing up is an article on the Petrelli campaign and Nathan's standing in the polls. Jane's attention settles there.

WOO. That was easy. A glance down to her hands reveals that, yup, the scratches there are already healing over. Claire's very quick to walk away at a panicked pace, but it isn't until she turns a corner that she breaks into a jog for the nearest train station. She's gotta get home, her instinct tells her. She's gotta get home now.

Her own instincts say nothing. Jane resumes collecting her gear and goes on her way, having not even the first clue she just met the regenerating daughter of the man she helped try to break his brother out of Company hands and the adopted daughter of the man who betrayed them in that effort. Not that Jane has any recollection of Noah Bennet anyway. That memory was taken, and the name was never mentioned to her afterward.

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