Chapter 9: New World

It was quiet for a few days. Gabe didn't hear anything from Sam or the spy, so again he immersed himself in his work with Dr. Bishop. Again, he wanted to forget everything about this other world. And again, he was successful, until something came out of the blue. This time, though, it came from within.

"So, have you thought about what you're gonna do for Thanksgiving?" Astrid asked.

"Thanksgiving?" Gabe said.

"Yeah, it's coming up in a few days."

"What's that, some sort of American thing?"

Astrid shook her head and laughed. "Oh, right! I keep forgetting you're French. Yeah, it's a holiday celebrating when the Pilgrims, some of the first settlers in Americans, were saved by the Indi–I mean, Native Americans. I mean, the story's kinda flawed, but it's still a nice holiday."

"How do you celebrate?"

"Well, there's a huge parade in New York City."

"And a lot of great football games," Peter added.

"I thought soccer wasn't popular in America," Gabe said.

"It's American football."

"Oh."

"But the best part is the FEAST!" Dr. Bishop said. "Turkey, stuffing, sweet potatoes, green beans, cranberry sauce, pumpkin pie. Oh, the mere thought fires up my salivary glands."

"Yech, cranberries. I think I'll pass, just keep working in here."

"Well, Thanksgiving is a Federal holiday," Agent Dunham said. "That means government departments shut down. Technically, we'll be closed."

"But fringe science doesn't take a holiday, does it?"

"There might be an emergency, but we all need some time off, too."

"This could be just what you need, Gabe," Peter said. "Instead of focusing on what you have not, you can practice being thankful for what you have. That's what helped me when I felt down when Dad was gone."

"I suppose you're right," Gabe answered.

"So, what are you gonna do?" Astrid asked again.

"I don't know. I guess Papa's still with the spy. I'll probably spend time with him."

"Well, if that doesn't work out, we'll invite you."

"Yes, you must try my turkey," Dr. Bishop said. "I know the scientifically proven secret to keeping it moist and flavorful."

"Sounds nice," Gabe said, even though he didn't care much for turkey.

With this new development in mind, Gabe called a couple of numbers. First, he dialed Peter's number. He heard a few rings, and then it picked up. "Hello?"

"Allo, Peter?"

"Gabe! What's up?"

"Um, I was just told about some America that's coming up, Thanksgiving, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well, my employers said they're going to be closed. I wondered, since you're family, if maybe I could spend some of it with you."

"Uh, I don't think that's a good idea."

"I mean, I was just thinking, not just time to catch up with you, but if Nathan's going to be there, maybe I'll finally get a chance to talk to him."

"Well, you see the deal is we have some hard questions to ask Mom. It's going to be kinda personal, and it's probably best that you don't get involved."

"Oh. Alright. I just thought I'd ask."

"Hey, I'll talk to Nathan. I'm going to make sure that he'll give you the time of day, soon."

"Merci. I appreciate that, Peter."

"You're welcome."

"Well, happy Thanksgiving."

"I hope it is going to be happy," Peter mumbled.

"What?"

"I mean, same to you."

Gabe hung up and dialed the spy. "Hello?"

"Spy!"

"Oh, Gabe, didn't expect to hear from you." When Gabe went on to ask what he was doing for Thanksgiving, he snidely asked, "You feel alright spending Thanksgiving with an oppressor?"

"I want to spend it with my Papa!"

"It's OK," the spy answered. "I'm just messing with you. Actually, I was just talking to your father about it the morning. I asked him if he could make a dish."

"Papa's well enough to cook?"

"Yeah, he's doing great. He's lucid and chipper."

"Still paranoid?"

"I'll talk to you about that later. Anyway, I first asked him if he could make some French dish, thinking it'd be cool to have something a little exotic for our American holiday. But then I remembered something from a few years back. After Kaito Nakamura's wife passed away, he had good things to say about some Hungarian dinner roles that were given to him. Kaito wasn't one to give out praise, so I knew they had to be good."

"My mother made them."

"That's right! So I asked your father if he knew the recipe well enough to cook it for Thanksgiving dinner, and he said he would. And he also thought it would be a good time to pass it on to you."

"I thought he already did. At least, I made them a couple of times. But then again, I'm getting a little rusty on the recipe."

"He could probably use your help anyway. Just to let you know, though, it's going to be a full house. I'm inviting Claire and Sandra, and . . . she's bringing a guest."

"Is Claire bringing a guest?"

"Well, if you came, you can be Claire's guest."

"So I guess her roommate hasn't come back."

"No, she hasn't."

"I'll . . . be happy to come."

"Alright, good. Um, it would be great if you can come down early to help your dad. I'm going to have to pick up some stuff at the supermarket. Maybe I could send you the directions, and one of the people who works with you can drop you off."

"I think that can be arranged. Merci. See you in a few days."


Hiro pounded on the Butterfly Man's door screaming, until he opened it. Then the Butterfly Man blathered on about how glad he felt to be alive and how he had just realized his true potential. Hiro didn't care. "Give me Charlie!" he demanded.

"Sorry, not yet," the wicked man answered.

Hiro grabbed his shoulder to show he meant business.

"Feeling brave, samurai warrior?" the Butterfly Man said in Japanese. Then he said in English, "There's a nice, sharp axe over there. Go on, freeze time, chop me into bits. No! That's right, you can't! 'Cause if you kill me, you'll never find Charlie!"

Then something occurred to Hiro that he hadn't thought about in many days. "Charlie's not the only butterfly you stepped on! You–!" But then, it slipped away. He tried so hard to get it back, "You . . . you . . . you . . . did something else. Something bad."

"Can't remember, can you? That's ok. As long as you can't remember, you can't really hold it against me, right?"

Hiro hated him so. He whispered in Japanese, "You are the devil."

But the Butterfly Man only replied, "I'm your savior, Hiro, you just don't know it yet. Now, go help set the table. And smile, it's Thanksgiving!"


Astrid dropped off Gabe in the morning. He helped his father get the ingredients together and stir up the dough. Michael wrote down every step. While they waited for the dough to rise, they watched the Macy's parade on TV. Then it was ready to knead.

"Now, you have to be careful," Michael said. "You don't want to over-knead it, but don't do too little either."

"I know, Papa," Gabe said. "I also know that no matter what I do, it'll still taste great."

"It's not the taste. It's the texture I'm worried about. We don't want it to be too tough."

"It'll be fine, Papa. The guests will love it."

"Alright, that's good. Now, we pinch off a little bit and make it into balls the size of our palms."

"Yes, I know." As they kept working, Gabe looked at him and asked, "So Papa, how are you feeling?"

"I'm doing . . . better."

"So, you're not mourning for Sylar anymore."

"Yes, I had an epiphany about him. I . . . don't know if I really describe it or explain it, at least, not right now. I'll tell you about it one day."

Gabe wasn't sure about how to respond to that. "OK. Now, the spy says he's worried that you've become paranoid. What's that about?"

"Actually, I've been talking to him about it. He says I'm helping him a lot."

"That's good. He's listening to you. I told him to."

Ten minutes after they put the rolls in the pan, Michael put them in the oven. Shortly after, someone came into the kitchen saying, "Mmm! Something smells good!" Gabe looked up and saw a woman with straight, blonde hair who he didn't recognize at all. She started getting down other food to cook, then she extended her hand. "Hi, my name's Lauren Gilmore. I used to work with Noah at Primatech."

"Ah another spy, une femme fatale!"

Lauren laughed. "Something like that."

"Pleased to meet you. My name's Gabe."

"Oh yes! Noah's told me a little bit about you. You're the polyglot from France, right?"

"Polyglot?"

"Yeah, you speak many languages."

"I know, but I wouldn't say it that way."

"Sorry. I like shorthand phrases like that." She looked at Michael. "And I know about you. You were the first escapee from Northpoint."

Michael cringed.

"Please don't mention that place. He still has bad memories," Gabe whispered.

"OK, OK, my bad," she whispered. "By the way, my condolences about Claude. He was an awesome guy. I still remember his accent. He had a nice smile, too."

"Well, that's news to me. He was so pessimistic, he rarely ever smiled."

"Yeah, well, you know I mean, when I saw him at all."

"It happened months ago. I'm kinda over it now."

"Yeah, me too. Of course, I thought he died years ago, and that was coupled with the thought that he was a traitor. My mourning period wasn't all that long. Well, anyway, if either of you need help in the kitchen, you got an extra pair of hands here."

"That's nice of you, Mademoiselle Gilmore. Oh, by the way, I have to ask, do you have superbilities?"

"Excuse me?"

"It's my understanding that's how they worked at Primatech. I think the motto was, 'One of us, one of them.' So, which one were you?"

Lauren gave a mysterious smile. "That's for me to know and you to find out. Now, let me get this can of green beans."

Gabe handed it to her, thinking, "Une femme fatale indeed."

Claire came first, and she right away told Noah that she had something to tell him. When she said that, Gabe started to regret coming. Lauren being there didn't because it became clear that Noah wanted her there for more reasons than just to cook. Then Madame Bennet came with another show dog breeder named Doug, and they brought their two dogs Mr. Muggles and Miss Lovegood. Gabe could start to feel the tension between Lauren and Sandra already. Michael was wary about something else. "What did she call that dog?" he whispered to Gabe.

"Mr. Muggles," he whispered back.

"That's what I thought."


Hiro had a talk with Lydia, and once she saw his true feelings, she asked for him to travel back to the night when Joseph was murdered. Even though he didn't want to, he traveled eight weeks into the past. "Oh no! You made us time travel! We must go back!"

"Shh!" she hissed. They spied a tall, balding man walking alone. "That's Joseph. He's not at the ticket booth, and I think I know why. Come on, let's follow him."

They followed a few paces behind, until he came to the fortune teller's tent. They heard loud sobs coming from inside. Hidden, Hiro and Lydia were only able to see the silhouettes through the curtains, and they heard the voices. "Sarah? Why are you crying again? Did someone upset you?" He was only answered by wails. "It was another bad dream, was it? Do you have the tears? Give me your tears." Hiro watched as the small figure sitting at the table put something into the taller figure's hand. He clenched it into a fist and held it to his heart. "Alright, thank you. Everything will be OK, now. I love you, Sarah." He walked out, and at the first opportunity he tossed what was in his hand into a fire.

"What did he just do?"

"He does that sometimes. When Sarah gets upset, he can take her feelings away so that she can do her readings with an unclouded mind. Like when she cries, he takes her used tissues, and when he holds them, he actually holds her sadness."

"But why was she sad?"

"Because she must have known that he was going to die that night."

Hiro came closer to the opening of the tent and saw the girl with dark hair and all the outlandish jewelry dusting off the table with not a tear on her face. "She looks so familiar, like someone I used to know," he thought aloud in Japanese.

"Come on, Hiro, let's go," Lydia said, and he followed her.


The disaster began just after Bennet made a toast. He thanked everyone for coming, especially Lauren for helping him cook. And then as an afterthought, he said, "Oh, and Michael and Gabe, of course, for the wonderful roles"

"Out of this world," Claire seconded.

"Merci," Gabe whispered.

Then the family drama began as the issue of where the couples first met. Gabe just continued eating and wishing he wasn't there. Doug, however, had to make things worse without realizing it. "You know, in my family on Thanksgiving, we used to go around the table and everyone would say what they were thankful for." Everyone exchanged odd glances and kept silent. "OK, I'll go first. I am thankful for the two beautiful women in my life–Miss Lovegood and my beautiful Sandy." He kissed the latter.

"OK," Noah said. "I am thankful for Claire who decided to come for Thanksgiving. It would not be the same without her."

"I second that," Madame Bennet said.

"I'm thankful for canned yams," Lauren said with a laugh. Everyone tittered with her.

Michael cleared his throat. "I am thankful for grace and God's mercy, pulling me out of the darkness and turning my face toward the eternal light."

"That is beautiful!" Madame Bennet said.

"And you, Gabe?" Noah asked.

"Well, I wish I could say the same as you, Papa, with such conviction," Gabe said. "Part of me still is in the darkness, groping for light. I've been feeling deserted, lonely. But a friend of mine told me that I should take this time to remember what I have. So, I am thankful for my health, that I am here, alive. And I am thankful for Papa, that he's here, healthy, and alive. And I am thankful for this food that we have in such tremendous quantity." Everybody laughed at that, too. "I am thankful for all of my gifts, my strengths, my abilities" (he looked straight at Bennet when he said that). "I am thankful for my job, the things that I do, the people I work with, the money I get. I–"

"OK, that's probably enough Gabe, thank you," Doug said in a patronizing way. "How about you, Claire?"

"Um . . . I know that I should be thankful, but I'm just not feeling it right now," she said thoughtfully.

Gabe beat the table. "Good answer. That's what I should've said."

And that's when the drama hit. Claire announced that she was considering dropping school. She and Noah both argued across the table, while everyone else felt helplessly lost with the details. Gabe knew some of them, but he couldn't see why they would make her want to drop out. Why wouldn't she consider transferring at least? Then Claire shouted, "I can't lie anymore! I'm a freak, and people don't like freaks!"

"Claire–!" Gabe started, but she shot him a look that told him to keep his mouth shut.

"Can I just interject something here?" Doug asked.

"No!" everyone seemed to say at once.

"I think we should all just take a deep breath," Lauren said.

"All I was going to say is that what Claire's feeling is perfectly normal," Doug said.

Gabe immediately slammed his hands on the table. "DON'T SAY THAT! DON'T SAY THAT WORD!"

He looked at Gabe in shock for a moment, then he continued that it's typical to want to fit in but sometimes not being able to and it would all "blow over" soon. Claire responded by cutting through her arm, and as they watched it bleed and heal, she said, "How's this for normal?"

"AAARGH!" Gabe got up from the table and went to the other room. "If someone else says the n-word, I am going to lose it!"

"You know, when most people talk about the n-word, they're talking about something completely different," Lauren said from the doorway.

He looked at her as he pulled out his phone. "Yeah, I know. That's not a good one either. This one's just as bad as far as I'm concerned." He dialed and put the phone up to his ear. "Allo, Astrid? I'm ready to go."


Doug had passed out from Claire's stunt, and Sandra watched as the two dogs licked his face. Then Michael came up to her and said nervously, "Madame, might I have a word with you?"

"Sure," she said. She stood up from Doug's side and smiled. "What's up?"

"Madame, please consider this as constructive criticism. And it may not be appropriate timing because of the holiday and . . . what just happened to your friend, but there may not be another time."

"No, that's fine. What is it?"

"I think you should seriously consider changing your dog's name."

She looked shocked and offended. "What? Mr. Muggles? How could you have a problem with that name?"

"Don't you know what it means?"

"It means nothing! It's a completely fabricated word that I gave him because it sounds cute. Well, every show I go to, I'm asked by some ignorant bystander that I got it from Harry Potter, but–"

"I heard that word not too long ago used to be offensive, vulgar, to cause pain and hardship, to be cruel. You see, the day is not far off where that word is going to be used as a slur."

"A slur? Well, that's ridiculous! What for? Even if there was a Harry Potter connection, there aren't real wizards."

"It's for people like you and your friend and . . . your husband. People with no . . . incredible talents. I am worried that if you continue with this name at your shows, people are going to assume that you are intolerant toward your own, for lack of a better word, kind."

"Look, I can't just change it. He's officially registered under that name, just like Dame Penelope . . . whatever Lovegood. Besides, he's learned to come when called. I can't just rewire his brain to respond to a new name. But thanks for the suggestion." She walked away to signal that the conversation was over.

"And what if it happens?"

She turns back. "Well, I'll . . . I'll cross that bridge when I come to it!"


Gabe was standing at the window waiting for Astrid in the other room. Then he saw Claire's reflection in the window. "Gabe, if you don't mind me asking, why do hate that word so much?"

He didn't turn around and spoke to her reflection. "Go to the library and read anything by Lennard J. Davis, especially Enforcing Normalcy. Look up eugenics on Wikipedia. E-U-G-E-N-I-C-S. That'll tell you." She didn't move, so he turned to show her his profile. "Oh, you want the short answer. You don't want to learn anymore. That's why you're dropping out of college."

"That's not true!"

"Then why don't you transfer to another school?"

"Because it's just going to be the same story over there. I don't know, maybe I will when this is all over. It's not like it's any of your business."

"If it's not my business, why did you argue about it right in front of me?"

Claire sighed. "You're right. I shouldn't have done that. It was rude. So, what is the short answer?"

Gabe finally turned to her. "I just don't think it's fair to put anyone into such a narrow, vague category and ostracize them when they don't fit. And you were right earlier, sorta. It's because I'm not normal. I never was, and I never will be, no matter how much I try. I suppose you wouldn't understand. You used to be a cheerleader, one of the popular girls. You put us in those categories."

"Actually, I was kinda an outsider from the start. My best friend for a long time . . . didn't try to be normal. He told me once that he learned to embrace his inner freak. He actually arranged for all the unpopular people to vote for me as Homecoming Queen."

"And did you win?"

"Yeah, I won. You know, Gabe, maybe you're right. Maybe there is no such thing as normal, but after spending the last few months running for my life because of some weird thing I can do, I just don't want to hear it."

"Hey, you don't have to tell me about that. I went through it too, remember? That's the reason I'm trying to start this group, because I don't want it to ever happen again."

"I guess . . . I just don't want to fit in a category. I just want to be me."

"Exactly! Now you're getting it." Gabe looked out the window. "Oh, there's Astrid. That was quick. I gotta go."

"You're leaving already? You're not going to stay for pumpkin pie?"

"Astrid told me that they saved a piece for me and that Peter Bishop made it 'crazy delicious.' She also said that Dr. Bishop made the whipped cream out of Gene's milk, which I doubt is pasteurized. It sounds interesting, anyway."

He started heading to the door. Bennet caught up with him and shook his hand. "Well, Gabe, thanks for coming. Sorry we aired the Bennet dirty laundry right in front of you."

Gabe sighed, knowing that he couldn't say what he wanted to say, that he shouldn't have come. "Well, the food was good, and I'm glad you're taking good care of Papa."

"Thanks for the roles," Lauren said as she shook his hand. "They were so good! I gotta get the recipe."

"Sorry, femme fatale, family secret."

"Well, I guess I'm just gonna have to steal it from you." Gabe eyes bugged out, and Lauren laughed and patted his hand. "I'm just kidding."

He shook hands with Madame Bennet. "It's nice to see you again."

"You to," she nodded. "Happy Thanksgiving."

"Yes, thank you." He hugged his father goodbye, then he walked down the stairs to the parking lot to the woman waiting outside, but then he stopped short. "You're not Astrid."

"Nope." It was Becky. "Uncle Samuel sent me. He has something special he wants to show you."

"Did he find Hanami?" Gabe asked anxiously.

Becky shrugged and mumbled, "I don't know. I'm just telling you what he said."

"Where is he?"

"Come on." She took his arm. "Now, he said I need to be careful about this." She pulled out a compass and held it away from her.

"What are you doing?"

"In the family, we have a way of getting around." Shortly after she said that, they both vanished.


Just after Gabe left, Claire went into her father's office and saw clippings of Samuel's activity. "I thought you gave up all this," she said.

"Yeah, so did I," he answered. He opened a drawer and pulled out a familiar item. "And then I come across this compass which almost gets me killed. It turns out it belongs to this strange man who appears in my daughter's bedroom threatening the normal life she so desperately wants." He raised his eyebrow. "Gabe's not here anymore. That word's not forbidden."

"Well, maybe Gabe is right. Maybe it's impossible. Maybe I'm not supposed to have a normal life."

"It sounds like you're giving up."

"Did Gabe give up?"

"Gabe is completely different. He's autistic; you're not!"

"Well, we're alike in other ways."

"Is that why you cut yourself?"

"I don't know. Maybe it's because you all think you know what it's like to be me, but you don't! How could you possibly? I have to lie to everyone, otherwise they faint! And I can't imagine how bad it is for Gabe or for Mr. Bonhomme. They have so much else to deal with to pass for normal. That's like me to the nth degree!"

"I know that it has been hard, and I know that I have caused you pain, but I'm concerned about you Claire! These are not good people! They're dangerous! Mr. Bonhomme was there, and he believes it's a cult!"

"Look, I'm not Mr. Bonhomme's daughter!"

"You're right. You're mine, and I'm saying–"

"Will you stop treating me like a child?"

"Then stop acting like one!"

There was a knock on the door. Noah went to answer it. A concerned young lady stood in the doorway. "Hi. Is Gabriel Bonhomme here?"

"Are you Astrid?"

"Yes, I was supposed to pick him up."

"He left about twenty minutes ago. I thought he left with you."

"No, I haven't seen him."

Claire took a good look at her. "She does look a lot like Becky." Her eyebrows raised. "Becky?"


Becky and Gabe appeared outside. They weren't in the carnival because it was so dark. "Where are we?" Gabe asked Becky.

"Ah, Gabriel!" That was unmistakably Sam's voice. He came from a multi-columned booth or shrine or something. He walked out with a huge smile on his face. "Do you know where you are?"

"If I did, I wouldn't have just said, 'Where are we?' would I?"

Sam chuckled. "Touche, my friend. Come, take a closer look." He gestured Gabe to come closer, took him inside the shrine, and motioned to . . . a small boulder.

"Why would America build a huge thing to honor a rock?"

"It's not just any old rock, Gabriel. This is Plymouth Rock. Ever heard of it?"

"Maybe."

"This is the cradle of America. Let me tell you what happened here. It would be very educational for you. On second thought, why don't I tell everyone?"

"Everyone?"

Sam led him out of the shrine again, and it was surrounded by people holding candles. Gabe looked at their faces in flickering candlelight. He didn't recognize most of them, and he wasn't sure what kind of people they were.

Sam raised his hands and said loudly, "Over three hundred years ago, some of the first American settlers landed here at this very spot. Much like us, they were fleeing oppression and persecution, though in their case they were running because of how they believed and how they worshiped. Yet it seemed as though they came here to die, for after they arrived many of them passed away from disease and hunger. But then the natives, even more oppressed than they were, called savages because of their culture, their skin color, and their talent, they came to these people and saved their lives. Squanto, Massasoit, names of legend, they taught these European settlers to harvest corn and to catch eel. These gracious people preserved many of our ancestors. To show their gratitude, both of these peoples sat side by side at the same table and held a three-day feast to celebrate the harvest and to give thanks to their God they were alive. Truly, this was the beginning of a new world.

"And now, we are the savages. We are feared because of our talents. We have been running, hiding in plain sight for as long as I can remember. Though together, we feel so alone. But things will soon change. This is the future I promised. We will stand together and fight for our rights to be recognized as people. We will teach the others not to fear us." Then, he put his arm around Gabe's shoulders. "This young man will show us how. He has told me that he is looking for freedom, for change that lasts. And I truly believe that together we can find it. Our family will grow so much that the carnival cannot begin to contain it! Yet we shall all sit at the same table, side by side. Brothers, sisters, children, once more today a new world has begun."

The crowd around them applauded. Gabe just looked at Sam, wondering what he wanted him to do. "Well, don't you want to go meet them?" Sam asked.

"Is Hanami among them?"

"No, but–"

"Then, I need to go. I'm expected somewhere else, and they're probably worried about me." He pulled out his phone. "Oui, look at all these text messages. They want to know where I am."

"You don't have to go back to them. Now that you're here, in the flesh, you can meet some of these people face to face, and I could give you a proper tour of the carnival."

"Perhaps another time. Cambridge isn't far from here, is it?"

"Don't worry about that. I will see to it you will get to your destination. And . . . I will be in touch."

"Thank you for your support, Sam."

"No problem. Come on."

He walked Gabe through the crowd. On the way, Gabe brushed past a girl. He recognized her as Sarah from his dream, but Sam pushed him through before Gabe could say hi. He watched as her eyes pierced into him.


After everyone left, Noah saw Michael standing at the window. "Good dinner tonight, huh? And I grateful for your contribution. Those roles were a hit. I can see why Kaito raved about them. And like I told your son, I'm very sorry about what happened, especially if it upset you." Michael didn't move and didn't respond. Noah went closer to him. "Are you alright? Are you worried about your son? Don't, he just texted me. He got to Cambridge fine, and now he's eating pumpkin pie with FBI agents and a man who's clinically insane. Same ole same ole, I guess. So why don't you play a little on the piano? Will that help you feel better? I was hoping you would–"

"He's awake," Michael whispered. "I can feel him."

"Who?" Noah asked. It couldn't be who he thought.

"He's awake. He's alive."

To be continued . . .