Gabriel immediately stalked away, ignoring the curious looks the guests cast toward him and Claire. Thankfully the song was over, so the out lash didn't cause a lot of damage. At least not to anyone that wasn't him. He tried wrapping his head around what she said. She still considered him to be the serial killer, Sylar. But he wasn't Sylar anymore. He was Gabriel Gray.

"What was that that about?" a deep voice asked. He looked up from his hands—where his face had been—and looked to whom was talking to him. It was Noah, of course.

"Claire hates me," he said simply. "She got upset."

"Well, I can see that! What did you say to upset her?"

"I asked why she hated me."

Noah just looked at the man in front of him. "Gabriel… Claire may be able to heal physically, but her mind is forever scarred. Sylar did a lot of things to her; you can't deny that. It's going to take time for her to be able to overcome that. She's scared of you… Well, not really you. She's scared of him, coming back. For a while, we all were, except Peter. None of us were there. You were there for eight years. But to us, it was over night. Do you understand?"
"I understand many things, Noah. I can understand that she can't forgive me yet. I just don't want her to hate me anymore. I… It hurts me to know that she can't even stand to look at me."

"I think she's hiding more that you think," Noah said vaguely and with a cheesy grin on his face.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Gabriel asked, raising an eyebrow as if to intensify the question.

"Talk to her, and maybe you'll see," Noah replied before walking away and resuming his post as announcer and makeshift DJ.

"Yes, because talking with her is so easy," he grumbled. He looked across the room and saw Peter dancing with Angela. Aw, how sweet. A mother-son dance. Too bad you'll never have that,' a voice in his head said menacingly. "Shut up," he said under his breath, knowing if anyone had heard, he would just look like a psycho talking to himself. 'But that's what you are. You are a psychopath. You killed people because you could. You stalked Claire, and you hurt her in so many ways. Why? Because you could. Aren't you a pleasant person? He couldn't take the thoughts that plagued him. He looked over to Emma who was staring at him.

Are you okay? she signed. He shook his head in reply. Go talk to Claire. Sort everything out.

On my way, he replied with a small smile that way anything but true. He glanced around the room, ignoring how people were watching him instead of Emma and her father. Although he didn't see Claire, it didn't take much to find her. After all, he did it easily for years. He closed his eyes and listened. He heard every heartbeat, every breath, every step. He didn't have to focus long before noting where Claire was on the premises. He launched himself from his seat, through the doors, and up the marble staircase. No one was on this level, so it was easier for him to find her.

He thought about knocking on the door, but soon realized that she would probably just tell him to go away. Instead, he barged in. She didn't even jump as the door bumped against the wall. He told himself he was going to stay calm, even though nothing calm was in him. He was upset, and angry, and entirely fed up. Only minutes ago he had wanted to just give up, but something wanted him to talk to her, to have her listen… and then there was the thought of them kissing. He felt a heat in his face, and he tried to hide it as he walked to her. She wasn't sitting on the bed, face in her hands, crying, and for that, he was thankful. He had no idea how to handle tears. Especially hers. She was laying on the bed, hands behind her, staring at the ornate painting on the ceiling.

"Go away," she said quietly, her voice filled with anger.

"No. Not until we fix this. After all, we have forever," he said with a smirk, sitting beside her.

"Why are you doing this to me? Why can't you just leave me alone?" How many times had she said that to him? He lost count. Maybe one day he would actually do as he asked.

"Because I want to fix this. Fix us."

"There is no 'us!'" she exclaimed, rising from the bed and getting a little too close to him. He doubted she even realized how close she had gotten.

"That's not what I meant," he cajoled, slightly moving away from the angered blonde. "Unless you want there to be." He was only teasing her now. He wasn't trying to be serious. The look on her face was priceless though. In less than a second her eyes went from angry, to scared, to curious.

"Why would I want that?" she asked, no malice in her tone.

"I never said you did. Claire, I don't want much from you. I just don't want you to hate me," he responded seriously.

"You say that like its easy," she snorted, leaning against the headboard with her arms crossed.

It is! his mind screamed. You could just forget that I killed people, and that I haunted you. You could just forget everything! He wanted to slap himself for that. He didn't want her to forget. He wanted her to forgive him so they could move on. Besides, the Haitian would never agree to that.

"What are you concentrating so badly on?" she asked, noting how his brow furrowed when he was thinking hard about something.

"I know it's not easy," he replied, ignoring her question. "We just have to work through it. And we're not leaving this room until we do."

"You wouldn't…?" Her eyes widened in terror. He wouldn't lock them in, would he? 'Of course he would! It's what he does!'

"I'm not going to lock us in." He was a little sad that she would even think that. He watched as her face went back to its blank state. "I just hoped you would give me the chance to talk to you so we could work everything out."

"Okay…" she said feebly.

"I don't want you to hate me anymore."
"Well you know what they say. 'You can want in one hand…'"

"Claire, please. Stop. I don't want you to hate me anymore. I really wouldn't mind if you actually liked me, because, quite honestly, I like you."

Say what? her brain asked her. What kind of like? As in, we could be friends? Or, I'm kinda in love with you? "What do you mean?"

"Just as I said. I like you. You're funny, smart, beautiful, and you're extremely special. You're a great woman, and I would be stupid not to see that," he said blatantly.

WHAT? her head screamed. She knew he was out of his mind, but this was taking things too far. "You're serious?" she asked, sitting up again.

"I've done many things to you, Claire, but lying is not one of them. I understand that you don't want to be with me, or that you even think of me in that way…"

"You're like, 30!" she interrupted.

"I am not. I'm 24. Anyway, I understand that you don't think of me like that, and apparently you think I'm old, but that doesn't matter. I'm not looking for anything but your forgiveness. Anything else is just a bonus."

All she could do was stare at him. Here was the man who had does so many things to her, and he had just admitted he liked her. And it seemed like it could be the "I'm in love with you" kind of thing. She so could not deal with this right now. She had nothing to say. All that came from her mouth was, "Uhh…"

"Well," he said, standing from his spot next to her. "There is a wedding going on downstairs, and I don't want to miss any more of it. When you want to talk, you know where to find me." He walked toward the door and stopped, turning on his heel. She was still staring at him with bright green eyes. He walked back to her, and bent over, so that he was face to face with her. He brought a hand to her cheek, and couldn't help but smile when she didn't flinch away. He placed a small kiss on her lips before breathing, "That should have been our first kiss," against her ear. And to that, he hurried from the room before he could do anything to ruin the moment. He almost pelted down the stairs until he ran into Noah.

"Gabriel. How's Claire?"
"Fine," he said, returning to the ballroom.

Claire was in shock. There wasn't another word for it. Simply in shock. Sylar had kissed her, again. Last time she thought she would vomit on him after forcing her to do such a thing. Last time, she had scrubbed her lips until they bled, hoping to wipe every trace of him off her lips. Sylar had kissed her. 'No…' she thought. 'That wasn't Sylar. Gabriel kissed you. Gabriel thought you are smart, and beautiful, and an amazing woman.' The word 'woman' echoed in her head. She wasn't the same girl she was six years ago. And maybe he wasn't the same either…

"Claire-bear?" Noah said, bringing her out of her trance. "Are you alright?"

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Sy… Gabriel and I just had a talk… I'm—I'm gonna go back down… It's probably time for the speeches," she said as she stood, straightening her dress out.

"Yeah. That's what I was coming to get you for," he said, walking with her out the door. "So what did you and Gabriel talk about?" he asked, emphasizing the man's name. He did well at hiding his shock to hear her use it. Whenever she spoke of him, she always called him Sylar.

"Just some things. He doesn't want me to hate him anymore… He just told me to find him once I wanted to talk," she replied, confessing the partial truth. Something she never did was lie. But it wasn't really lying if she didn't tell him everything, right? She wasn't quite ready to tell her dad that the ex-serial killer was starting to like her. She didn't want to admit it to herself. A small shiver ran down her spine as she thought of his parting words and actions. Her mind was still reeling, but she did her best to keep herself focused. She tried not to think that her head wasn't exactly swimming with those thoughts. She felt more like she was drowning. How dare he!? What gives him permission to kiss me? Again? Oh the nerve! She wanted to vent to her father. But he didn't know Gabriel had kissed her. He couldn't know.

"Are you okay?" Noah asked her.
"Fine. Just kind of nervous for the toast. It's been a while since I've been in front of a crowd."

"Oh, honey," he said, giving her a one-armed side hug, "you'll do fine."

They walked into the ballroom, taking their seats next to Angela. Claire mentally cursed Emma for putting her seat directly in front of Gabriel's on the round table.

The food was served. It didn't surprise her that Angela went all out, buying filet mignon for all the guests. That was her stipulation for helping with the wedding. She wanted to host the reception. Typical.

It wasn't far into the meal that Claire felt his eyes boring into her as she ate, ignoring him completely. She chatted with everyone else at the table, but she never said a word to him.

After everyone finished their plates, Claire looked to Peter and Emma, who nodded, signaling it was time for her toast. She tapped her glass with her spoon, and stood, unintentionally making the chair squeak against the floor. Well, that got everyone's attention, she thought, suddenly focused on every set of eyes that were now on her.

"Hi everyone," she squeaked out. "It's been a while since I've been in front of a crowd, especially not without pom-poms and chanting out letters." A chuckled chorus spread through the room. She smiled and resumed her speech. "Peter and Emma are great. I mean, everyone here knows that. By the time Peter finally asked her to marry him, we were all wondering what took so long!"

"HEY!" Peter said with a laugh.

"Well, we were!" Claire replied defensively. "I love that I'm a part of this family," she said, suddenly serious. "They are truly wonderful. Emma is like the sister I never had, and Peter is a great uncle. You guys are amazing. So," she raised her glass, "to Peter and Emma. May you have a fantastic life together."

"To Peter and Emma!" the room cheered.

"Can I speak with you, dear?" Angela asked, pulling Claire away from Hiro, her current dance partners. Claire's smile faded as she followed Angela onto the patio adjacent to the ballroom. "I need you to do something for me."

"Okay…" Claire said apprehensively. "What?"

"I need you to go out with Gabriel," Angela said simply.

"Seriously?" Claire asked disbelievingly.

"Yes. He's lonely, Claire." She hated the way she said her name like that. "Just spend some time with him. He's a great young man."

"And if I don't?"

"Excuse me?"

"You said it was a favor. What if I don't want to go out with him?"

"Well nothing, dear," she laughed. "It's a request, not an order."

"Oh." She would've liked it better if it had been. "Okay. I may, I may not. We'll see."

"Thank you, darling," Angela said, kissing Claire's cheek. "Have a good night." She rolled her eyes as her grandmother walked away.

"Hey, Claire," Peter said, side stepping his mother and walking out onto the patio. "How are you?"

"I'm okay," frustration thick in her voice.

"What's wrong?"

"Your mother 'requested' I go out with—Gabriel!" she hissed.

"Oh. Dammi, mom." Claire raised her eyebrow, silently asking him what he was talking about. "I told her I would talk to you."

"Please tell me you're joking!" she cried.

"I'm serious, Claire. He likes you. And he's desperate for you to forgive him."

"Did everyone else know he liked me except me? Am I blind or something?" Peter bit his lip with no reply. "Oh my god! This is ridiculous!" she shouted, full cheerleader mode coming out. She began to pace as she thought about what she just discovered. "Look, Peter. I love you, and I love Grandma, but right now, you're both driving me crazy!"

"Sorry. I'm not asking you to do anything unreasonable. Just go out with him a few times. Talk to him. Get to know him. The new him. Please?"
"We'll see," she replied, answering the same way she answered Angela.

"Thank you," he said, kissing her forehead before walking back to the reception.

She should've known this was going to be a family affair. It always was.