Title: Brave
Author: sorion
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing: (peripheral) Sylar/Claire
Rating: PG
Summary: Is the price of being protected worth paying?
AN: Post season 4.
I might or might not add other moments revolving around Sylar/Gabriel and Claire to this universe.
Thanks to anachan87 for the Italian help :)
I don't really know where this came from. I had planned on just doing a romance-y thingy, because I wanted to try out the pairing (the first het pairing in I don't even remember how long OMG), but then this happened… ^-^' Much more like a character study on Noah and Gabriel.
Tell me what you think? :)
Brave
Gabriel was working on a beautiful white gold lady's watch in his work room when he heard the doorbell and looked up. It was mid-morning, an odd time for guests, and it certainly couldn't be Peter who had merely forgotten his key; after all, he could have gotten in with the blink of an eye. Literally.
He put the watch back into the safe and left his work room. "Just a minute," he called.
It wasn't like they never got any guests, he and Peter, it was just that usually, they were announced beforehand. Usually. The first time Matt Parkman had stood in front of the door and had responded to "Peter's not home, yet" with an uncomfortable "I wanted to talk to you," Gabriel was pretty sure he would have had a heart attack, had he been capable of it.
So he wasn't necessarily worried when he went to open the door. There wasn't a thing that could have actually hurt him, after all…
That, however, didn't stop him from reacting with at least some trepidation when he was faced with his visitor. He startled.
"Uh. Noah. Hi." He stepped to the side to let the man enter. Rationally, he knew that Bennet couldn't kill him, even if he might have wanted to, but he still made Gabriel nervous. A bit like Angela, who made him instinctively look around the room for someone to drug him and make him wake up as somebody else if at all and that only after she made him believe in her and do her bidding. And that trepidation it would remain where it was for a while yet, no matter how often Peter might have told him that Angela wouldn't be of any danger to him, anymore.
When Noah didn't say anything right away, Gabriel was catapulted back to the days when he and Peter had first bought a house together and moved out of Peter's apartment, since neither of them could imagine living and feeling at home anywhere without the other right there. Not after their joint years of solitude.
"Peter's not home, yet," he caught himself saying, as he had so often and not only to Matt Parkman when people had actually come to see him, or at least him and Peter.
"I'm not here for Peter," Noah answered.
For some reason, this didn't reassure Gabriel as it had when Matt had said it. He blinked. "… Okay…" He turned around to the open kitchen to the side of the living room. "Drink?"
Noah followed him, his steps slow. "You're not afraid to turn your back on me?" Noah wanted to know. He didn't sound pleased in a way that would imply that he was happy that Gabriel trusted him; it instead sounded like he very much thought Gabriel to be an idiot.
Gabriel half turned to look over his shoulder. "If you think I would turn my back on you without putting up a telekinetic shield, you are very much mistaken, Noah."
"You think I have a reason to come after you then?"
Gabriel snorted and took out two glasses. "No. But I'm sure that you think you do." He put the glasses on the counter between them with a little more force than necessary and made a satisfying thump, though without breaking them.
"And after what you did for years, I am more than justified to think so."
Gabriel laughed a cynical little laugh and opened the fridge to take out a jug of iced tea. "You know the difference between you and me?" he asked in a deceptively light tone.
"Enlighten me," said, sounding thoroughly sarcastic and not at all believing that Gabriel had anything substantial to say.
"I know that what I did was wrong."
Noah waited for something more to follow that statement. It didn't.
Gabriel poured two glasses of his tea, put away the jug, closed the fridge, leaned with both hands on the counter and looked at Noah, expectantly.
"What I did…" Noah started after a long pause, "… was to protect people from people like you."
Gabriel looked down, a painful smile twitching at his lip. "After creating people like me?" He lifted his head, and the honesty in his dark eyes hit Noah like a bullet in the chest.
"This has nothing to do with protecting people, anymore," Gabriel continued, pushing one glass closer to Noah, even though he knew neither of them would be touching his drink. "You let my monster out of its cage, and now you can't make yourself stop at anything to kill it."
Noah's jaw set.
"The thing I really think you don't understand, though…" Gabriel added, slowly, deliberately, "… is that I already killed it. You're too late, and it's not in your hands anymore." His eyes bore into Noah's. "Deal with it."
Noah faltered for a moment. "It's not like I don't want to believe you, but…"
"But it is," Gabriel interrupted, quietly. "You are emotionally invested. If you let yourself believe that there is good in me, that the real me is good, you would have to admit that you've done me wrong. That you could have saved dozens of people by helping me instead of pushing me over the abyss."
Noah's eyes hardened. "I did not cut open the skulls of countless victims, Sylar."
Gabriel just rolled his eyes. "You used to call me Gabriel back when I was Sylar, and now you call me Sylar when I'm Gabriel." He huffed. "Seriously? I have worse things to regret than a name. Call me whatever you want."
"You're damn right you have worse things to regret," Noah bit out.
Gabriel nodded. "I do. And after…" he sighed deeply, "… endless hours, days, months…" he thought about his shared prison with Peter, "… years of talks with Peter, and later some even with Matt, Janice… Claire..." He added the last name with not a little hesitation, but he knew that he had to. "I've come to realise that I've done terrible things, but that they have made me into who I am, and that I couldn't have saved Emma and all those people at the carnival, I couldn't have done what I did a month ago…"
"And you think that justifies killing dozens?" Noah interrupted him, angrily.
"It doesn't," Gabriel replied promptly. "Nothing justifies killing a single person, no matter how many could be saved by doing it. I know that." He breathed deeply. "Do you?"
Noah didn't answer, but, apparently, even deadly looks couldn't kill Gabriel.
"But you're not here to talk about ethics and morality, are you?" By now, Gabriel was pretty sure he knew why Noah was there. He still kind of hoped that he was wrong, but that was becoming more and more unlikely the longer he watched Noah's boiling rage.
Noah's expression darkened even more, if that was possible, and he swallowed hard, as if he had to keep himself from throwing up. "What are you doing to my daughter?"
'Sometimes it sucks to be right,' Gabriel thought. "Are you having me monitored? Or her?" He added the last part with no little accusation in his voice.
"I don't have to justify myself to you."
Gabriel shook his head and looked absentmindedly into his iced tea. "No, you don't. I mean, even I have Matt scan me every now and then, just to make sure that nothing of my former self gradually creeps back without me noticing. I don't blame you for monitoring me; I expect it." He lifted his head. "But something in the tone of your voice just told me that it's not me you were monitoring."
"I was worried, okay?" Noah yelled, the boiling rage now finally surfacing. "What was I supposed to think?"
Gabriel sat down heavily on one of the bar stools that were placed around the counter separating the kitchen and the living room. "You could have just asked her…" He propped his face up on one hand and rubbed over it.
"She said she didn't want to talk about what she needed to tell me on the phone."
"And yet she would have talked about it on the phone, had you told her that you're that worried." Gabriel sent him a 'duh' look that looked kind of silly on him. "What you did instead was have her followed and…"
"And have my worst fear confirmed!"
Gabriel nodded, crookedly. "So you did see it coming, after all. I was worried about your observation skills for a moment there…"
Noah was about ready to spit nails, but before he could voice it, Gabriel held up a hand.
"Seriously, Noah. What do you want from me here?" he asked as reasonably as he could, despite of what he had just learned, and that even though he and Claire had at least tried to not expect the worst from Noah, he did still spy on her at the first sign of something he potentially didn't agree with.
"I want you," Noah began, slowly and very deliberately, "away from her."
There really was only one answer. "No."
"I have ways to make you."
Gabriel nodded, slowly. "You could probably find one, yes." He tilted his head. "Or we could just hide for thirty years or so and wait until you kick the bucket…"
"You will not take her from me."
Gabriel just smiled. "You think you're the only parent thinking like that? It's not a you-or-me question, unless you make it into one."
"I think most parents don't have to watch their daughter fall for a serial killer."
"Granted."
"I don't know what this is," Noah spat, "some sort of Stockholm's Syndrome, a weirdly twisted Florence Nightingale Syndrome, or plain manipulation on your part, but it's not her, it's the situation," he concluded, firmly.
"We are not born the way we are. We are made, Noah." Settling into explaining, understanding and trying to empathise with people, Gabriel managed to remain mostly calm and collected, despite his anger. "Of course our relationship is situational, every relationship is. A series of circumstances. On top of that…" he smiled sadly, "you forgot one possibility on your list. I think it's much more a matter of me being the only one who can give her eternity."
He had a point there, even Noah had to admit it. "Peter…" he said, grasping for straws.
"Who is her uncle," Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Thanks for that mental image."
Before Noah could say that even incest would preferable to what Claire had chosen for herself, Gabriel continued.
"And Peter could stay eternally, that is true. Should he wish to," he added the last part after a moment's hesitation.
"Why wouldn't he?" Noah wanted to know.
"I know Peter better than anyone. At one point he… might think that he was happy enough to let go." His voice was soft and sad, a tiny smile playing around his lips, his affection clearly visible.
Noah could see the love in Gabriel's expression. Love for both Claire and Peter. It didn't help ease his mind, though. He couldn't let it.
"How that man can call you his brother after what you did and what you are still doing…" he had to stop. Images clustered his mind, images that he would kill to forget. "I couldn't bear to look," he blurted out without wanting to.
Gabriel narrowed his eyes. This could have been something he really, really didn't want to have confirmed. Something even worse than some PI or agent on Claire's trail, and Gabriel didn't know if he could patch up that one. At several points these last few months, the irony of him being the one to defend Noah's actions to Claire had hit him, and it was the reason Claire kept listening to him.
Noah spying on Claire was more than bad enough, but… if Noah did what Gabriel now suspected him of doing on top of that… "So is there surveillance in my bedroom or hers?" he asked in a chatty tone, steel underlying every syllable.
Noah's eyes shot up to Gabriel's, his expression one that tried very hard to be of justification and not guilt. And the disappointment he got in return made his stomach churn. Sylar. Disappointed. In him.
He didn't even want to think about how deserved that disappointment was.
"Surveillance?" a small voice asked from the front door, and Noah swivelled around, while Gabriel walked out of the kitchen so that the cupboards above the counter wouldn't block his view from where Claire stood next to Peter, both of them carrying grocery bags.
Noah looked panicked, Gabriel sad, Claire betrayed, and Peter – surprisingly – slightly murderous.
"… Dad?" Claire asked, clasping her bag closer to herself.
Noah held up a placating hand. "Claire, let me…"
"Let you what?" she interrupted him, quickly becoming more and more angry instead of lost. "Explain?" she spat the word as if it had personally insulted her. And, given her life, it often had.
Peter and Gabriel shared a quick look, and Peter's eyes flickered towards Claire. Gabriel nodded.
"Here," Peter said and took Claire's bag from her. "Gabriel will take you to get some air."
Claire wanted to shake her head for the briefest moment, until her groceries were in Peter's hands, and Gabriel was standing right in front of her, kissing her forehead.
"Gabriel…"
"Let's just get some air, and we'll get right back here. Okay?" he said softly.
Noah was about to protest very loudly, but one dark look from Peter stopped him in his tracks.
"Give me your hand," Gabriel said, and Claire took it.
Then they were gone.
Noah flinched as if it had been him who had been teleported.
Peter rushed past him and dumped his bags in the kitchen, before turning back around, staring at him. "You had better have a damn good explanation for what I just heard, Noah."
Claire wasn't sure if she wanted to open her eyes and see where Gabriel had taken them. She wasn't even sure if she wanted to open her eyes for quite some time, years probably.
The unfamiliar sounds and scents made her frown and tilt away from his chest anyway, only to notice that it wasn't late morning, but probably early evening…
"Where are we?" she looked up at him, thankful for the change of scenery.
Gabriel grinned. "Venice."
Claire gave him an incredulous look. "Venice. As in, Italy, Venice."
"Yep. Espresso?" He tilted his head and led her out of the corner they had appeared in. "I thought my personality wouldn't be enough to distract you, this time…"
The anger returned to Claire's face. "Can't really avoid talking about what I heard."
He steered her right to a close by restaurant, where they found a small table for the two of them outside. A waiter approached them after only a short moment.
"Buonasera signori, volete ordinare?"
"Buonasera. Vorremmo solo due espressi, grazie," Gabriel said.
Claire blinked. "When did you learn how to speak Italian?" she asked when the waiter had wandered off.
"I was gonna take you here for a holiday. Granted, the circumstances are less than ideal, right now, but…" He shrugged.
"That's one way of putting it." She didn't know where to look and finally settled for her clasped hands on the table. "He had me followed." It wasn't a question.
Gabriel sighed. "He freaked out when you said you had something to tell him but didn't want to do it over the phone. Especially since he suspected, well, the obvious."
Claire's jaw set. "And that gave him the right to react the way he always did? The way he said was behind him? The way he promised he would never react again?" Her voice rose steadily, until Gabriel laid one warm hand over her tense ones.
"No. But you do know he's just afraid, don't you?"
Claire huffed. "He's much more afraid of what he did or didn't do and what that might cause."
Gabriel nodded. He had, after all, said something similar to Noah, himself. "Does it matter?"
Claire's anger deflated, but not entirely. "He installed a camera in my bedroom," she said, flatly.
"Actually, I don't know if it was yours or mine. We didn't get to that."
Claire rolled her eyes. "I don't care! He can't keep doing this!"
"No, you're right. He went too far." Having someone spy on him, Gabriel didn't have a problem with. Having someone spy on Claire, he did. Having a damn security camera watching them in their bedroom was pretty much… yeah. He really hoped Noah had to puke his guts out for at least half an hour after seeing the feed.
Claire threw up her hands. "How come you're so calm about this?"
"Oh, don't get me wrong, I'm pissed off. But mostly on your behalf." He smiled ruefully. "Noah always did have a knack for catching me at my most… private. I'm kind of used to it."
Claire snorted, and Gabriel caught her hand, again and kissed it.
"We'll be okay." He smiled. "But, Claire, you have forever with me; you don't have forever with him."
Claire returned the pensive look.
Noah knocked back his third Whiskey (or was it the fourth?), since Peter pretty much noticed right away that Noah would need something a little more potent than iced tea.
"Feeling better yet?" Peter asked, sitting across from him.
"Not really, no."
Peter was tempted to have a go at the bottle, as well, but he also had a feeling that he might need his wits about him for this. So far, he had tried unsuccessfully to reassure Noah, but he really wanted to push another thought or two before the other two came back.
Noah stared into his empty glass. "How can you call that man your brother, after he killed Nathan?"
The mention of his dead brother didn't sting as much anymore as it used to. Right after the fall of the carnival, everybody had made pretty damn sure to mention him in every other sentence, just because Peter firmly stood by Gabriel's side. After a while, he very slowly stopped being all that alone on that side… and by now, Noah was the only one who would mention Nathan with that intention.
He shrugged, nonchalantly. "Well, first my parents made him my brother by lying to him; then mom, Matt and you literally made him my brother; so it's not exactly like I came up with the idea."
"Very funny," Noah grumbled.
"I'm serious." Well, he was at least partially. "Everybody kept pushing him at me, and every now and then, we actually helped each other." He shrugged again. "Power, insanity and manipulation aside, we actually could have gotten along."
"And I guess after a couple of years alone, most people would take his company before the solitude," Noah was forced to admit. Even he had actually gotten along with the man, but that didn't mean that he wouldn't (and did try to) have him killed the first chance given. But then again, he did have a distressing track record of being able to separate business and feelings at the drop of a hat.
"You know," Peter began, now remembering the nightmare and deciding to add a personal angle, "at first, it really sucked that he had all those memories that weren't his, because he kept mixing them up and forgot which were which and then talked to me as if he'd been there with me and not Nathan." He huffed a small laugh. "I beat him up for that more than once, even though that particular thing wasn't even his fault." He directed an accusing stare at Noah.
"Not a mistake I'd ever make again."
"Well, good. After he got his body back, Sylar told mom that she'd 'raised the evil incarnate bar' with that stunt, and he was right."
Noah rubbed his face.
"By now… his memories feel like… like it has been the three of us. Like Gabriel was there all along." He had a far-off look in his eyes. "Another brother, just like mom made him believe, only this time he earned it himself."
"And because of him, it's now only the two of you," Noah added, deadpan. "Lovely."
Peter rolled his eyes. "To be fair, Nathan and I attacked him. What was he supposed to do?" Sure, Sylar could have just not tried to plan on replacing the president, but that wasn't really anything worse than what every group or sub-group or even just ambitious person involved with some Special or other had planned at some point.
"Not to mention that Nathan and I tried to kill each other more than once. My future self shot him at that press conference, and I myself actually killed the future Nathan with the power I got from Gabriel. Oh, and did mom ever mention that I tried to kill her with it too, and that Gabriel stopped me?" He slumped in his seat. "Some family."
Noah narrowed his eyes. No, he hadn't been aware of quite that much… "What you did in a future that's never gonna happen doesn't count," Noah protested, gruffly.
Peter held Noah's eyes firmly with his wide ones and pointed towards his own chest with his right hand. "I," he began, "killed my brother," he held up his finger that had been pointing at himself before, "with this hand." He paused and let that sink in. "Just because the situation now won't happen doesn't mean that I didn't do it."
He took a deep breath. "You gonna hunt me down, now, too?"
Noah shook his head, sharply. "No. You're a good person. You got a power you couldn't control and…" he stopped, his eyes widening.
"Exactly," Peter said, calmly. "Gabriel knows now how to control it. Or, actually, he just realised that he doesn't have to, that he just didn't understand."
Noah wasn't sure if he was sober enough to understand, himself. "What do you mean?"
Peter tried to remember how Gabriel had put it. "He used to think that his hunger was about killing, then Arthur told him that it was about power." He slowly shook his head and lifted it to look at Noah. "Gabriel told me… that neither is right, that it's about knowledge and understanding. Basically, he just wanted to learn because understanding things is what's in his nature, and once he realised and understood that – and I was there when that happened, by the way – everything fell into place. His abilities, his mind, his feelings."
"As simple as that?" Noah asked dubiously.
"It wasn't simple. But he is a good person, and he wanted to." He pondered that for a moment. "Also, he could have done it a lot earlier, if people just would have stopped using and manipulating him and had instead helped."
"You're blaming me for that one?" Noah sounded beat.
"Partially," Peter confirmed. "I also blame Elle, the Company, my parents… and, well, Gabriel. It's not like I'm deluded enough to think he's not to blame."
"Looks to me like you're all deluded."
"Everyone but you?"
Noah didn't answer that.
"I think," Peter continued, "now it's you who needs help."
"I can take care of myself." Noah contemplated another drink.
"And alienate everyone in your life? To a point where you'd rather hire someone to spy on your daughter instead of just talking to her? You need to stop this, Noah. You're losing yourself; you have to start talking to people. We'd all help you. We're there for our own."
"Yeah, well, I'm not one of you, am I?"
Peter looked at him incredulously. "You're kidding, right?"
Noah suddenly had the memory of Sylar's voice in his head, telling Claire that Noah would never see their humanity. He also spent a terrifying few seconds thinking that Sylar hadn't been completely wrong. Except that Noah did love Claire, and did believe many Specials to be his friends, and he couldn't prove Sylar right.
"You're family, Noah. And with the things you know, you could still help. It's not like we're not still facing threats."
Noah held back a snort. "One big happy family."
Peter pursed his lips. "I'm pretty sure you're the only one of our friends who's miserable and alone." He remembered something. "Even Sandra and Lyle came by, last week. We had a good time. Some rough talks, but in the end… we're doing good." It was interesting how the we just left his mouth, nowadays. It never even occurred to him anymore to not include himself whenever someone questioned Gabriel.
Brothers look out for each other.
Noah straightened in his seat. "You can't tell me that everyone trusts him, now. Come on!"
"Matt and Janice let him babysit the other day," Peter said, having waited for an opening to say that for a while now.
"What?" Noah all but choked.
Before Peter could add that Matt was the telepath (not that Noah didn't know that, but in this case, it would have been worth repeating), Gabriel and Claire reappeared in the living room. Peter tilted his head to look around Noah. "Where the hell have you been? You've been gone nearly an hour."
They were both smiling and looked a lot more relaxed than they had been when they left. Gabriel held up a placating hand. "We come bearing a peace offering," he said, holding out the box in his other hand.
Peter took it and tilted it to read the print. "Ice cream?" He squinted. "From Venice?" He looked up. "You went to Venice?"
"And we were very tempted to just stay there, too." Gabriel smirked. "Mean espresso, over there."
Peter snorted. "Show off." He put the box in the freezer.
Claire couldn't help but giggle for a moment, before the smile slowly faltered again, and she looked at her father. She unconsciously moved closer to Gabriel who put a supporting hand on her shoulder that made her breathe a little easier.
"You realise that this is your last chance, don't you?"
Noah returned the hard gaze, understanding perfectly. He knew he couldn't keep going like this. He knew that. But could he change it?
"If you betray me in such a way one more time," Claire had to stop and swallow, painfully, "you won't see me again. One more time, and that's it."
Noah saw Gabriel's fingers rub circles on Claire's shoulder, never looking up from her face, his expression one of concern and… love. Noah had to avert his eyes. How could… how could he possibly believe this to be true?
"Dad?" Claire asked, her voice wavering, pleading.
"I don't… I don't understand." He lifted his head. "I don't want to lose you, Claire, but how can I trust him?"
Claire bit her lips, leaning into Gabriel more. "I could tell you about how I learned to trust him…" she offered cautiously.
Noah had had people tell him stories like that, before. Mostly, they never really tried, anymore, though, and just told him that he should just 'give the man a chance', as if he deserved it. As if… Noah deserved it.
"I've heard some of those stories before," he began, but Claire interrupted him.
"I know. But will you listen?"
Not sure how to listen anymore, Noah started with looking. Looking at Claire's pleading face; looking at the face of the man by her side, a face that held none of the malice it used to… but that didn't have to mean that none of it was left, did it?
Then again… he hadn't been there. He had pulled back, hoping that Claire would sooner rather than later understand that her trust had been misplaced in one Gabriel Gray. His hopes were never answered and more than likely never would be.
"Alright. I'll listen."
He received a different kind of hope in the form of two smiles.
.
END
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