Noah Effing Bennet

Noah cracks his knuckles. Adjusts his glasses.

Sandra sighs.

He gets a nostalgic feeling. Like the first time they met and all the words fled from his brain and all that came out was "Pretty. Want drink?" He almost chuckles, but he chokes and tries to stifle coughing instead. And takes a sip of water.

Sandra just watches him, Noah avoids eye contact. He continues struggling not to cough. She sighs again.

"Noah, just put your arms over your head." The words come out exasperated, that tone that he's missed for the past few months, and barely containing the grin, he reaches up and gives a few good coughs before his airway's clear. Her eyes move to his glass, and he takes another sip of water.

"Look, I know I screwed up-"
"I'm not sure what you expect-"

They both speak at once, desperate to get the awkward stage over with and only succeeding in making it more awkward. Silence falls on them again. Maybe breakfast at a mid-rate diner hadn't been the best idea. It was the only free time he had now. She's watching him again.

The food comes, and they both eagerly begin to eat, happy for the excuse not to try talking again. On instinct, Noah scrapes his hash browns to the side of the plate closest to her, to make it easier for her to steal them. He realizes what he's done and notices she's frozen, staring at them while in the middle of cutting her pancakes.

"Oh, I just-"
"Thanks, but I ordered double-"

And again, speaking at the same time. They both sigh. This really wasn't going well. Noah puts down his flatware and dabs at his mouth before clearing his throat.

"I uh," he starts, but he can't get the rest out. Every time he begins to talk about it, memories of that night flash into his head and the words dry up in his throat.

She doesn't smile, or encourage him. Sandra just watches him, waiting until he can say it. Part of him knows she'll always wait and that's why he can't say it.

She's too good for him.

"It's not something you can keep up forever, Noah. You know that good and well."

He and Angela stood in front of the new Company Headquarters: 70,000 square feet of commercial leased real estate. The building was run-down, definitely not up to code and needed serious work. Fortunately, they knew a guy.

"I never intended on forever." They approached the building and Noah unlocked the door, letting Angela inside before him. Her heels clicked loudly as she walked to the center and turned back to face him.

"It'll be much sooner than you think, you know. You're predictable; you've been doing this song and dance for a long time." If he didn't know her, he'd think she was genuinely concerned. Not that she wasn't; her focus was simply on the job, rather than Noah's personal life.

"I still have a few tricks up my sleeve," he retorted. And he wasn't posturing this time. It was necessary now that he was covering up from more than just family and other organizations. He was implementing a slew of new policies to protect himself and the Company from the disasters that occurred in the past.

"Well, I hope so."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

They're not even facing each other now; each scrutinizing different parts of the building while holding this very touchy conversation. She turns her head to the side, enough to see Noah from her periphery and exhales a laugh.

"It means you're good, but you need to be better. You don't have the Haitian, and she's not in high school anymore. Plus there's the boyfriend - yes, I did look into his file, too. Part of you doesn't want to hide it all from her. I think part of you wants to recruit her," Angela said, sparing Noah's feelings by not patronizing him. She continued, as though she'd just remembered something: "That wall's going to have to be knocked down."

Noah stayed silent, unwilling to admit aloud that Angela was completely right. Part of him wanted her here; keep her safe by keeping her close. But every time he thought of doing that, his mind went back to the Bishops' screwed up family. Imagining Claire that way; as twisted and wrong as Elle? It only solidified his desire to lie to her, keep her out of the life as long as he could. He wasn't stupid; he knew one day Claire was going to become an agent of some sort, but if he could hold off that day just another week longer, he'd do it. No matter the cost.

"It doesn't matter."

"I know, Noah. A father has to do what he thinks is best."

[Locked to Senator Petrelli]

1. Real estate: $126,000 (after renovations/preparations)
2. Cover Business expenses (you'll recieve a breakdown later): $100,000
3. Recruiting: $85,000
4. Supplies (weapons, containment items, etc): $150,000

Don't you we fight enough monsters already?

Claire is thecheerleader.

Even if she hadn't been born evolved, Claire would've been unique anyway. She didn't need abilities to stand out in a crowd and Noah, despite his warnings and instructions, never wanted her to fade into the background.

"Don't you want the pink one? Or maybe the purple one." Noah pointed at the toy tiaras lining the shelf in Wal-Mart, while Sandra was shopping for birthday gifts for some friend's kid. "I thought princesses love pink."

Claire fixed him with that look she got when he was being very silly, the one she still gave him at 18 years old. He suppressed a chuckle because clearly he was being a dumb dad again. Her little hand came forward and she pulled out the golden tiara, placing it on her head and looking at him for his approval.

"Oh, I see. You want something shiny," he tried again. He got the look again, too.

"No, Daddy. Pink is for princesses. Gold is for queens." She was informing him of something very important. Noah smiled and hiked her up onto his hip, planting a kiss to her forehead.

"Well then what's silver for?"

But she was long gone, her eyes fixed on something across a few aisles. He let her down after some wriggling and followed as she made a bee line for whatever it was she was interested in. Noah laughed out loud when he finally saw it; she ran up to the tiny blue jeep and climbed inside, giggling away and making car noises. In her golden tiara.

When Sandra finally returned to the van, it was to a very happy young daughter and a guilty looking husband. They were playing tag around the old minivan his wife loved and as soon as she approached they both stopped and looked at her, waiting for the imminent mom look. Claire was beaming.

"Oh, Noah, what was it this time?" She asked, cringing at the thought of it. Without saying anything and looking appropriately shamed, he popped open the hatch and received a heavy dose of mom glare. Claire just kept giggling and making vroom vroom noises.


Back at home, Noah had pulled everything out and plugged things in and messed with all the little parts, under Sandra's scrutiny. She gasped at the ugly blue jeep when he pulled it out and asked Claire if that was what she'd really wanted. She was answered with Claire climbing inside it and continuing her car noises. Noah chuckled and pulled her out, informing her that it would have to wait to be played with for a full day. Claire went to bed early that night, but Noah had to read her to sleep.


She woke up early enough though, bouncing on the bed and ready to play with her Jeep. She pouted when Noah told her it wouldn't be ready until after dinner and he made her a huge breakfast to make up for it. Sandra complained that he spoiled her way too much and he agreed, while he watched Claire cut up her waffles and shove them in her mouth. Claire deserved the spoiling, he thought. Much more than other kids.

Finally, supper approached and Claire stomped into the kitchen while Noah was helping Sandra cook, which actually amounted to eating what he could before it went into the meal. She climbed up to sit at the breakfast nook and huffed loudly. Sandra turned away from the mashed potatoes and gave Claire a pitying look.

"What's the matter honey? You only have another hour to go, and then you can play all you want," she assured. Noah turned to agree but Claire was having none of it.

"This. Is. Agonising!" Her arms flew up into the air and slapped back down onto the counter. Her pout set harder when her parents started laughing, long enough for Sandra to spring tears and Noah to start coughing. "I am not amused."

"Well, honey," Noah started and had to stop again to make sure he wouldn't burst. "If we don't wait long enough it won't be as fun, that's all."

She gave him the look again, something he was beginning to think she inherited from her mother. His reserve faltered, and Sandra rolled her eyes. She mentioned the spoiling again but Noah ignored her.

"Okay, Claire-bear. Just until dinner, and then we can continue after," he gave in, but most of his sentence was lost in her squeals. She raced out to the garage and climbed in with her tiara and sunglasses on. Noah unplugged the charger and popped open the garage door, chasing her out as she drove, weaving this way and that.

And despite all that spoiling, she still turned out better than Noah could have ever hoped. Even that damn look she gave him.


Prompt: "Well, your mother and I decided if someone was going to screw you up, we wanted it to be me. Only, you managed to turn out fine somehow anyway."

Noah doesn't talk much, but when he does it's usually never completely truth. Talk about the dangers of having to hide everything and defining himself by his family, which is now falling apart

Keeping a semblance of your life going is important. Doing things, normal things, it could keep a man going when all he has left was himself and his memories. An ex-wife that hates him, a son that resents him and a daughter who outgrew him. And so Noah walked down the sidewalk with a newly bought newspaper under his arm and entered the local piss-water coffee shop.

His family has fallen apart.

Noah walks a very fine line, or at least he likes to tell himself that. Now, he's beginning to wonder if that line ever existed or if he just got good enough at lying to fool himself a long time ago. Back then, he could have the worst day ever, almost die or lose his partner, but when he got home, it all disappeared with the excited yells of Claire and Lyle inside the house. To them, he was a superhero.

"Large coffee to go - err, black," he calls out over the bustling and hands the clerk a ten. He ponders over the front page as he waits for his change.

Now he was … deadbeat dad? Company man. He made them another statistic. Every time he opened his mouth there had been some part that wasn't all truth. A sliver of a lie is still a lie, and it worked like termites to chew down his house.

He looks back up at the clerk's "sir," and smiles while extending his hand. Look at that - he can even lie without opening his mouth. He should have a business card made up.

Front page news - it was satisfying that he'd succeeded in keeping the incident with the president under wraps. He'd even convinced Matt the boy wonder to go along with his plan, something he thought he could never pull off. Angela's help was key there. She was as good at dissemblance as Noah was; hell, he learned most of what he knew of it from her.

"You have a nice day now," he was told as his coffee was handed to him.

"I will," he smiled, lying again. "You too."

He folded the paper and stuffed it back under his arm as he squeezed out of the doors. The smile, his words; without the people he'd had before his whole damn life was a big fat lie.

Prompt: There are some that only employ words for the purpose of disguising their thoughts. - Voltaire

Sigh. Noah is a moron. But I'll roll with it and try to figure out justification for his temporary stupid.


It was a stupid decision.

And now Noah was wondering if he'd lost his mind after losing everything else at the hands of that son of a bitch. He'd finally let it get completely personal, let his desire for revenge get the best of him and drive his actions. Stupid, so stupid.

The flames reached up and the smell of burning flesh wafted through his nostrils and made him feel sick to his stomach. Parkman kept trying to make eye contact with him over the corpse, but Noah refused to look at him. He made himself focus on the body in front of him. It looked like Sylar, sure. That was probably the creepy part - how strong Matt had gotten, from just being a pathetic mind reader to convincing everyone that Gabriel Gray's body was burning to pieces in front of them.

Part of him was leaping with joy inside. Finally, he was making Sylar pay his dues, beyond death or torture. He simply wasn't himself, he didn't even exist anymore thanks to Noah's sudden sadistic desire to see him reduced to playing politician. Of course there was an occasional pang for Angela and for Claire. But at the same time? He'd made Noah attack his wife, almost kill her. For that, the bastard was paying dearly. For everything; ripping his baby girl apart, attacking his wife, driving Noah and his family crazy. There wasn't punishment enough for what he'd done to Noah and his family. Even this wasn't going to do it.

But it was close, it was as close as it was stupid, and he knew that. He just couldn't find it in himself to care all that much. Noah Bennet wasn't grey anymore. He was morally bankrupt.


Prompt: It is not enough to succeed. Others must fail. -Gore Vidal

Noah contemplated the highball glass in his hand up close as his brain was too comfortably muddled to deal with much else. Now that he'd drained a quarter of the bottle, he could think about what he'd done without wanting to vomit his entire intestinal tract up into a bucket. Sandra's terrified shrieks echoed in his head and he took another sip to burn out the heaving nausea threatening to take over his body.

Part of Noah wanted to go back and plead to Sandra through the door on his knees stinking like alcohol. He wished for the days that he could go home after a bad day and watch a movie with his family. Now all he had was his empty apartment and old takeout. And the scotch, of course. The scotch was integral to keep him from going completely insane.

He had been so sure and that was his ruining this time. He'd been one-upped by that monster and for what? Because Noah was too consumed with catching him to think clearly. The signature was too obviously fake, she was too harsh when she served him - it was clear now that he could look at what happened. Her scared and angry face surfaced in his memory again, making him clench his eyes shut and rub at his temples.

Noah leaned back on his couch and drained his glass, tossing it to the other end of the couch. He ignored his cell phone as it buzzed across the glass coffee table the first two times. He finally picked it up once it vibrated itself off of the coffee table and cleared his throat before answering it.

"Hello Angela," he said, a little groggily. "This had better be important."


Noah Bennet
Heroes
291 words
Prompt: TD 39 - Who did you hurt?