Disclaimer: I own neither Heroes nor the song "Hide and Seek."
A.N.: This was a very random fanfic I had an idea for a couple weeks ago and I decided to stick it on here. Review if you like. No flames por favor.
Where are we? What the hell is going on?
Gabriel stood at the window watching the rain fall. How long had it been? 40 years? 50? Time didn't matter anymore anyways. He hadn't aged since taking Claire's ability.
The dust has only just begun to fall,
Crop circles in the carpet, sinking, feeling.
Spin me round again and rub my eyes.
Claire hadn't aged either, of course. He could see her through the sheets of rain. Her blonde hair pressed against her scalp by the heaviness of the water.
This can't be happening.
When busy streets a mess with people
would stop to hold their heads heavy.
Hide and seek.
Trains and sewing machines.
All those years they were here first.
She still hadn't found it in her heart to forgive him after all these years. His first instinct was to run, like he had a thousand times before, but not now. He was sick of running.
Oily marks appear on walls
Where pleasure moments hung before.
The takeover, the sweeping insensitivity of this
still life.
He never intended to be on the wrong side. His father had taken advantage of his new-found innocence. He told him things he should have never believed. He showed him… her. Elle.
Hide and seek.
Trains and sewing machines. (Oh, you won't catch me around here)
Blood and tears,
They were here first.
The door slammed open and Claire and her rushed into the room. Claire pointed the gun at him.
"We can make this over quickly, Sylar," she growled.
Gabriel shuddered at his former name, or maybe it was the cold air.
"Just a couple shots and it's done."
Gabriel looked at her like a cow going to slaughter. His brown eyes filled with sadness seemed to ask for her forgiveness before she murdered him.
All he received was an icy stare.
Gabriel turned around. Right before Claire pulled the trigger he realized he didn't want it to end like this. He began to turn around…
Bang!
Mmm, what you say?
Mm, that you only meant well? Well, of course you did.
The bullet landed deep in his jaw.
Mmm, what you say?
Mm, that it's all for the best? Ah off course it is.
The next in his knee.
Mmm, what you say?
Mm, that it's just what we need? And you decided this.
He stumbled, falling out the window.
Mmm what you say?
What did she say?
He felt himself falling. The cold air pushing against his back, the freezing rain pelting his front half. He hit the ground with a thud, his head banging the pavement harshly. His body still hadn't recovered from the gun shots or the fall when a huge shard of glass hit him in the chest.
Ransom notes keep falling out your mouth.
Mid-sweet talk, newspaper word cut-outs.
Speak no feeling, no I don't believe you.
You don't care a bit. You don't care a bit.
Suddenly a face was over his. Talking to him.
Was it?
He was an old man now, but he recognized his own child.
Gabriel could only make out bits of what Noah was saying, the pain his body was going through trying to drive out the bullets and heal everything else was driving him crazy.
He saw Noah reach for the giant shard. If he pulled it out Gabriel would live.
He swatted Noah's hand away. Noah gave him the look a child uses to plead with a parent, but Gabriel wouldn't let him pull it out.
Despite the pain in his jaw he managed to get out the phrase, "It's finished."
He tried to tell Noah he loved him, but he couldn't.
Ransom notes keep falling out your mouth.
Mid-sweet talk, newspaper word cut-outs.
Speak no feeling, no I don't believe you.
You don't care a bit. You don't care a bit.
The last thing Gabriel Gray saw before he died was Claire on the second floor, watching to see if she would have to continue her quest.
You don't care a bit.
Claire looked around the Seattle apartment where her uncle had been hiding recently.
You don't care a bit.
Something caught her eye.
You don't care a bit.
It was a painting, just finished, in the corner.
You don't care a bit.
It showed an old man cradling a younger one in his arms. The younger one was beaten and bloody. Dying. Claire couldn't tell if there were tears on the old mans face, the painter had painted the scene as though it were raining.
You don't care a bit.