Disclaimer: Nothing's mine but the plot

Section One: Chapter Three

PART ONE

The Blue Moon Club's theme is supposed to be a thing of legend. As she and Gabriel enter the doors and Claire feels the vibrations of the music pound through her body, and a flashing rainbow light show that is enough to give anyone a seizure almost overwhelms her vision, Claire understands why. The appeal however, is lost on her.

Two hours latter Claire leans against the corner wall near the bar, nursing her drink and trying to pretend that her eyes are not fixed on Gabriel on the upper level as he dances with some bimbo whose skirt is so short Claire can clearly see her skimpy red thong.

It's not like I care if he gets laid. It's supposed to be a fun night out, and if Gabriel wants to sleep with some slut whose probably got 12 STDs that's fine with me. Claire thinks, attempting to ignore the burning sensation rising in her stomach.

Unaware of the murderous glare she's aiming at her partner and the woman who is now grinding against him, Claire downs her sixth vodka shot and slams the glass down on the small table beside her. Despite all the vodka she has consumed it is impossible for Claire to become drunk thanks to her power, which allows her body to metabolize alcohol so quickly that she never feels the effects. If this hadn't been the case Claire would most likely never have noticed the bartender setting a tall glass of… something pink and foamy in front of her.

Her expression must have looked confused, because the bartender nods to a muscular, blond haired man leaning against the bar.

"It's from Craig." he informs her, the half inch separating them the only thing making it possible to hear. "I don't think much of him, but if you're looking to piss off your boyfriend up there he's the guy for the job."

The bartender leaves before Claire can correct him, so she turns her focus to "Craig", mostly out of politeness rather then out of the desire for sex.

He is very good looking, but not really her type. As the words "piss off your boyfriend" echo in her ears Claire waves him over, unaware of the connection between her impulsive decision and the bartender's words.

Craig confidently swaggers over and presses up against her, invading her personal space and setting her teeth on edge. Claire glares at him and pointedly steps back half step that she is capable of without colliding into the one of the 50 people behind her, and picks up the glass of pink liquid resting on the table near her elbow. Craig's gaze lingers for a few seconds on the birthmark on her right breast before darting up to meet her eyes. He begins to speak, assumedly to apologize, but his voice is drowned out as the music reaches a new pitch, causing Claire's eardrums to throb.

Claire pauses in the act of taking a swallow of her drink to glance up at Gabriel, who has now all but stopped dancing with his grinding bimbo of a partner and is watching her intently, his eyes darting back between her and Craig.

Claire downs a mouthful of the pink liquid, which she registers to late is disgustingly sweet. As she suppresses a grimace and attempts to ignore the way her taste buds seem to be curling, a strange sensation comes over her body. It's almost like her head had slammed into a wall and she is just now experiencing the slight disorientation that follows. Claire knows right away that her drink has been spiked, with what she has no idea, but Claire knows the dose must be strong enough to bring down an elephant to have the slightest effect on her.

Claire feels her heart began to pound, panic rising as she feels herself backed into the wall. Claire tries to struggle, to move her arm so she can break this asshole's wrist or get to the knife in her bra strap, to bite him, to do something , but whatever drug this is seems to be effecting her ability to move. As Craig's hand traces her leg, diving underneath her skirt, Claire can't manage anything more then a low scream, the music swallowing the feeble sound.

As Craig moves his hand further up her thigh Claire feels the drug beginning to leave her system as she regains control of her fingers. When she feels Craig's hand on her and the heavy weight of his body pinning her to the wall panic courses anew throughout her body and Claire tightly grips the glass still in her hand. Claire lets loose a cry the is partly pain as a large piece of glass imbeds itself in her palm, and partly fear as she feels Craig's fingers hook around the seam of her underwear.

Just as Claire feels his fingers brush against her vagina she feels the hand yanked violently away.

As if that was the catalyst, Claire feels the last of the drug leave her system and as she regains control of her muscles. She opens her eyes just in time to see Gabriel, his face a mask of deadly rage as he yanks Craig's arms behind his back and slams him viscously into the wall.

Only this man defending her isn't Gabriel, at least not completely.

Claire has seen Gabriel angry more times the she can count, but never has she has never witnessed this type of behavior from her friend. There is a dangerous tension in every muscle of his body, yet it is a relaxed tension, like a wolf preparing to spring on it's pray, fully confident in it's own strength and power. His face was so blank it could have been carved from stone, but his eyes were filled with cold, deadly rage, and they screamed destruction for the blond man before him.

"Did you really think you could get away with touching her?" Gabriel snarls quietly, his mouth close to Craig's ear.

Once again, the voice did not belong to the Gabriel Claire knew. Gabriel's voice was usually strong, warm, and soothing.Even when he was angry with her, his voice was never threatening. It never caused her to fear him or make her reach for her gun.The quatitaly was similar to coffee the color of cameral, thick golden honey, or a deep rich bronze; smooth and warm Gabriel's voice would flow over Claire like calm water over stone and wrap unyieldingly around her body like silk scarves. It completelyenveloped her in comfort, security, love, friendship, leased deadliness, loyalty, and trust.

This other Gabriel's voice was low and deadly, ice cold and cunning. It was filled with a seemingly endless kaleidoscope of rich, sensual, liquid dark tones, bringing images of shimmering black silk, flowing molten ebony, onyx raven wings, deep sable and nearly obsidian hued crimson to Claire's mind. This new voice didn't flow like calm water over Claire, nor did it wrap like silk scarves around her. It engulfed her like white hot flames and coiled tightly around her form like strong, silk ropes.It smothered her in possessiveness, nearly uncontrollable ferocity, protectiveness, and unwavering faithfulness.

As her friend turns to appraise her, eyes darkening even further as he took in her disheveled skirt and the blood on her hand, the realization slams into Claire. This man before her, for all intents and purposes, is Sylar. It's not surprising Claire didn't know this, seeing as she hasn't actually seen Sylar since that night in Kirby Plaza six years ago. She's seen glimpses of Gabriel's darker side appearing in his eyes quite a few times, such as when they encounter someone with a new power or when someone tries to harm her. Claire has seen Sylar in the cunningness of Gabriel's smile and in the strength of his temper, but she's never fully come face to face with Sylar. Gabriel had never allowed his anger or The Hunger to consume him. He has never permitted the tension resulting from continually fighting his murderous urges to disappear from his shoulders.

Gabriel has always been in control.

Now Gabriel has allowed that control to slip, and Claire witnesses for the first time the strength of The Hunger. She experiences the intensity of her friend's "dark side", and sees the urge to commit murder forming in his eyes. Claire has come face to face with the man who has killed dozens of people, and who once desired nothing more then to cut off her skull and take her power.

Logically she should be afraid, yet she is not. Somehow Claire knows that Sylar would never willingly harm her any more then Gabriel would.

Witnessing this in her eyes Sylar's face relaxes just the slightest amount.

"Thank you for not being afraid of me, Golden Panther." He says, gratitude in his voice.

Sylar's hard gaze returns to Craig, who is wide eyed and pale in his forced position against the wall.

"Did he touch you?" Sylar inquires, the predatory protectiveness returning to his dark voice.

"Yes, but you don't have to worry Sylar. He never got the chance to touch what he was aiming for." Claire says, her voice slightly shaky as she pulls the shard of glass out of her palm, the gash instantly healing.

"Should I kill him? It would be a simple matter to cut off his skull, learn what makes him tick." Sylar inquires calmly as he glances at her, paying no attention to Craig, who currently looks as if he's going to pass out from terror.

"No, that would get us a lot of attention we don't need. You'd get taken out of the field anyway."

That isn't the true reason Claire doesn't want Sylar to kill this man, however much he may deserve it. If Sylar does kill him there's a chance that Gabriel won't be able to control The Hunger. Gabriel could turn back into the serial killer he once was, and Claire won't risk that.

Sylar raises his eyebrow at her, as if to say "your call", before turning back to face Craig, who is still pined against the wall.

"You're really lucky she doesn't want to you dead, otherwise you would be a bloody corpse by now." Sylar whispers in his ear, the deadly rage back in his voice.

"As it is, in addition to drugging her, you also tried to take what she wasn't willing to give you." With a quick movement of his hands Sylar breaks Craig's wrists, smiling when Craig clenches his teeth to keep from screaming.

"Actually, I guess it's lucky for you that you did drug her, because if she had been able reach that knife in her bra strap you'd be missing a hand instead of having a broken one." Sylar continued, a hint of genuine thoughtfulness creeping in beneath the rage.

How did he know I put my knife there? I'm getting too predictable. Claire thinks as she pulls aside her shirt and bra strap to revel the sharp metal. Craig's eyes widened even further as his fear grows, and Claire smiles at him, letting him know that is exactly what she would have done.

"It's fortunate that you didn't rape her. Well it's fortunate for you, I mean. I would have loved to remove your skull and pick apart your brain."

"As it stands, you're still breathing and relativity uninjured." At this Sylar squeezes Craig's broken writs tightly, purposefully grinding the broken bones together. Sylar then uses his telekinesis to dislocate Craig's shoulder, satisfaction gleaming brightly in his eyes at the loud noise the bone makes as it pops out of it's socket.

Sylar loosens his grip, and Claire isn't surprised to see that Craig's hands have already began to swell and turn purple.

"If I was you, I'd get out of here before I decide to kill you after all."

Craig lurches away, frantically pushing people out of the way in his terrified haste to escape.

Claire looks over at Sylar, whom she is expecting to be watching Craig, and instead finds him staring at her, fear and concern in his eyes. Without warning he pulls her into a hug, holding her in a secure, vice like grip against his chest.

"Are you sure you're alright, Claire?" He asks quietly as she puts her arms around him, squeezing him tightly in return.

"Yes." Claire responds, slightly in shock from the unexpected hug.

"This is all my fault." Sylar whispers, his voice angry and chocked with tears.

"How in the ninth level of hell is this your fault?" Claire asks him, assuming her friend is placing the blame on himself out of misplaced guilt.

Instead of responding Sylar's hands tremble and his heart pounds frantically against her ear as he holds her even tighter, burying his face in her hair. Relaxing into his embrace Claire focuses on the feel of her friend's body against hers, listing to the beating of his heart. When it finally begins to slow some minutes later Sylar pulls away, and Claire sees him disappear as Gabriel once again reins in his Hunger.

"What do you say we go to your place and watch Doom or something?" Gabriel asks, clearly trying to cover up the worry in his voice with a casual suggestion.

"Sounds good to me." Claire replies, not missing the way Gabriel's eyes dart around the club or the protective hand placed on the small of her back.

"Were you having a good time until now?" Claire asks him as they reach the doors, the memory of that woman dancing with Gabriel causing that burning sensation to appear in her stomach once again.

Gabriel shakes his head, his hand tightening on her hip as they pass a blond man outside the front door.

"No, the dancing is horrible."

Claire is too busy wondering at the sudden giddy feeling in her stomach to notice when a smile crosses her face, nor when Gabriel smiles to himself as he watches her out of the corner of his eye.

PART TWO

It was supposed to be an easy assignment. Go in, take out Eric Doyle, throw a little Power into the mix, and the cat would be in the bag. Then, somehow it all goes terribly wrong. Claire can't remember exactly what happened (PTSD the Pinehurst counselors will tell her), but she knows that they screwed up and Eric Doyle…. got the best of them.

As Claire watches as Gabriel is forced to take off his clothes and experiences being unable to move as hers are ripped from her body, when she feels Gabriel's larger, heavier body cover her own, and feels his erection pressing against her opening, Claire learns what fear is.

Claire sees the horror, revulsion, rage, guilt, and fear in Gabriel's eyes. She feels his grip bruising her arms, feels the blood from a gash on his cheek dripping onto her face, and as she catches sight of Eric Doyle in the background controlling their actions, Claire understands how someone could enjoy killing. She knows how it feels to desire the sensation of blood coating her hands, to see lifeless eyes staring up at her. Claire wants to see terror in Doyle's eyes as she slices his throat or puts a bullet through his skull.

Powerlessness comes in the form of seeing the blood on her thighs and feeling the searing agony as Gabriel pushes past her barrier. It is being unable to speak and yet still screaming Please stop oh god it hurts stop Gabriel please fight it make it stop please please stop no no no you're hurting me I've never done this before owowowow STOP IT!

Claire must have blacked out at some point, because the next thing she's aware of is the door banging open, of yells and gunfire and of Gabriel's weight disappearing. She catches sight of Gabriel's face, stark white and still horrified, and briefly wonders what happened to his cut before the darkness takes her again.

PART THREE

Ever since the attack happened a month ago she's been trying to reach Gabriel, to tell him that she doesn't blame him and hopes that they can remain friends, if no longer partners.

Four hours ago she had just been released from the Research Lab at Pinehurst. The scientists had acted sympatric about what had happened with Doyle. They said the traditional words, made the right gestures, even assigned her a counselor. Their actions, however told another tale.

Claire had had her blood taken multiple times, she had been hooked up to electrodes, was given stress tests, and was even given small cuts with a scalpel. Claire watched, confused and slightly worried as the scientists spent hours peering at her blood through a microscope, measured her brain and heart rhythms, and almost obsessively recorded the time it took for her to heal.

During all that time, not once had Gabriel come to visit her, nor had she been able to contact him. The counselors told her that they were already treating Gabriel, whom had expressed a desire not to have any contact with her for a period of time. Under normal circumstances Claire would have been suspicious, for it was very unlike him to avoid her, but then again, these weren't normal circumstances were they?

This was made clear every time she closed her eyes and saw Gabriel staring down at her with horror, with every nightmare that caused her to wake up screaming and trying to fight as she felt Gabriel on top of her body and was finally able to scream. It was made clear, time and time again, as she vomited, had violent nightmares, experienced flashes of rage at Doyle and Gabriel (logically Claire knew it wasn't Gabriel's fault, but emotionally she couldn't help from blaming him as the memory of blood, white hot pain, pleasestopohgodnonopleaseno came back to her again and again). As she flinched away from every touch yet at the same time wanted someone to hold her, and as she felt the almost overwhelming urge to destroy something.

Yes, Claire was reminded over and over again that these weren't normal circumstances.

After Claire had been released from the lab she had been more then ready to go home, to contact Gabriel and make him talk to her for two minutes at the very least, but just as she reached the doors one of the doctors stepped in front of her, delaying her exit.

"How are you doing Miss. Bennet?" the physician asked, his dark eyes concerned.

"I'll be fine." Claire said tightly, really just wishing that the doctor would get the out of her way and leave her alone.

The man nodded, the gesture appearing automatic as he reached for something in his lab coat.

"Well, I thought I should let you know that Sylar has left the company as well as the state, which is good riddance if you ask me.."

The rest of his words were drowned out as a blank buzzing filled her mind.

Gabriel had… left? No that wasn't possible. Gabriel was still her friend and she needed him and anyway he wouldn't leave without telling her first so obviously this man had been listening to rumors and,

Through the fog that her brain had descended into a few of doctor's words reached her, muffled and not fully registering.

"There's something else…. Don't know how it's possible… so sorry… the termination can be scheduled for next week if you.."

Claire felt herself nodding, and taking the large envelope that was being held out to her she began to walk, her brain knowing the way home even though Claire was too enveloped by shock to realize where she was heading.

Now Claire sat on her bed, staring blankly at the phone, the operators' words echoing through her mind. "The number you are trying to reach has been disconnected."

She remained there, unmoving and unaware as the day passed and the sun set. Her mind was blank as the sensation that both her heart and vital organs had been ripped from her body intensified until, hours later, she vaguely wondered why there was no blood. Surly this type of pain had to mean that she had been impaled through the chest with a metal bar or had her limbs cut off. There had to be some tangible reason why she was experiencing this level of pain – No. This was far beyond pain. This was agony. – that made a mockery out of anything she had ever experienced.

Claire had thought she had experienced every type of pain the universe could throw at her. She had been burned alive, gotten shot and had stuck her own hand in a garbage disposal. Claire had received a broken neck, coughed up shards of glass, and suffered the pain of rape.

All of that had been physical pain however, pain that was only briefly felt and then quickly forgotten.

As the tidal wave of emotional agony of being abandoned by the one person whom she trusted and relayed on, the one individual she was comfortable with, and who was her only friend finally registered, Claire knew she had never truly felt pain until this moment.

The contents of the envelope, along with the small piece of plastic with a double line through the screen, was forgotten.

TBC