A/N: Hello, guys! :)

Back with another chapter. This time, it's gonna be less intense than the previous chapter, but more...schmoop? You'll be the judge. ;p

Chapter 10

October

This questionable behaviour was uncalled for.

Ian was just one floor beneath them. She was supposed to be with him. She said she would see him to pick up some lecture notes she had missed.

Ian had persuaded her to confide in him, whatever was bugging her, because she had been acting weird since finding out about Virginia's accident. She had not told him a single thing, but even then he had mentioned Gabriel's name. Ian had heard from others that Gabriel had disappeared for weeks, and asked her if she knew anything about it. She didn't know if he'd noticed, but her knuckles had gone a paler shade of white.

She had told him that she needed to go to New York to sort out some 'affairs'.

It wasn't a lie. Merely omission of vital facts.

Because Gabriel was her affair.

She had not been sure if Ian could handle the news that she was going to skip classes in order to console his neighbour-turned-her-best-friend. Ian probably had enough of her disappearing acts every other weekend (and sometimes weekdays); an unplanned trip to New York to find Gabriel would definitely ignite his combustion system.

On the other hand, Gabriel was back to his normal self, although there were moments when he seemed so far away. Lost in an unreachable place, where he would undoubtedly tend to his psychological wounds.

But she digressed.

The questionable behaviour in particular was how they ended up in Gabriel's bed, snuggled contentedly against each others' pliant bodies, melding perfectly. They were still fully dressed in their nightwear – him in his mandatorily striped PJs, her in one of his rarely-worn, crumpled dress shirts, wrestling with the sheets as Gabriel fought to wake up against his heavy-lidded eyes, in order to make breakfast.

She had never seen him like this. It was the first time at the lake all over again, when she first saw him out of his work attire. It was like the day of Virginia's funeral, when he had experienced true, powerful, raw emotions for the first time. It was like the morning after, when he had looked so vulnerable and yet so strong in the wake of a tragedy; unpretentiously behaving as Gabriel Gray as he saw himself, instead of the Gabriel Gray he had been forced to show to the rest of the world.

Not to mention that he had been scruffy over coffee. Who in the world could have seen that but her?

They had a Lord of the Rings marathon the night before. After The Return of the King ended, the wee hours of morning were spent by his window with his telescope, stargazing. Feeling drowsy, she had insisted on sleeping on the couch, but he had strongly insisted on letting her have the bed. In the end, they had decided to share.

"Don't go just yet," Claire implored. Gabriel obeyed, his head lolling back onto the pillow with a soft thud. She took the opportunity to ruffle his hair teasingly. She had forgotten how he must have looked with shorter hair, because ever since he decided against a haircut (after his last one two months ago), the temptation to run her fingers through his dark hair became undeniably stronger.

As if on cue, he muttered sleepily, "I need a haircut."

--

If he had known that this would happen, he wouldn't have taken her out for brunch. Mohinder was now eyeing him up and down with a bemused expression; a woman with olive complexion whom he believed must be of Hispanic descent was by Mohinder's side. "Dr. Gray, how nice to see you here," he beamed merrily.

"Indeed. Likewise. I did not expect to see you around, Dr. Suresh," Gabriel narrowed his eyes vigilantly.

"Ah," Mohinder turned to the woman beside him and said, "I trust you know Dr. Gabriel Gray?" The Hispanic woman nodded with a smile, before extending her arm towards Gabriel. "I'm Maya Herrera. Dr. Suresh is the principal director for my group's current research project."

Hesitantly, Gabriel took up Maya's offer of a handshake before pulling away. "And who is the beautiful lady friend by your side, Dr. Gray?" Mohinder asked, trying hard to suppress a growing grin. It wasn't as if he didn't know. Oh, he knew alright. But teasing Gabriel was always fun.

Especially about this.

"Dr. Suresh, Miss Herrera," Gabriel began, "this is Claire Petrelli," he said formally, before introducing Mohinder and Maya to Claire.

"I am honoured to have finally met you, Miss Petrelli," Mohinder smiled. "Gabriel sure couldn't stop talking about you." Gabriel's eyes widened as soon as Mohinder had finished talking.

"It's wonderful to actually meet somebody who works with him, too!" Claire replied excitedly, before casting an elfin glance at Gabriel. He had wanted to wipe the cold sweat now forming on his forehead, but that would be an obvious sign of his discomfort.

"You could sit with us," Maya offered earnestly. "We just got here so we haven't ordered anything yet."

Gabriel sighed. It would be too rude to decline, so he said, "I believe that is a fascinating idea," and managed a grim smile, before pulling up a chair for Claire.

--

"He seemed like a nice guy, that Dr. Suresh," Claire commented as they made their way back to their apartments. He linked his little finger with hers as they walked side by side, eyes on the pavement beneath his feet.

"Hmm. He is polite. He does not get on my nerves. A little too passionate about his self-proclaimed 'brilliant' ideas, but yes...I believe he does constitute the definition of 'nice'," Gabriel pondered. "Curious that I was not previously made aware of his relationship with Miss Herrera, though. Seeing them together in an intimate fashion today was certainly surprising."

"Intimate," she repeated dryly. She managed to walk another step before Gabriel tugged on her hand, pulling her back as he stopped in his stride. "If I may ask," his stern gaze now concentrating solely on her, "How would you define the status of your relationship with Ian at this moment? And please do not recite your current status on Facebook, because you and I both now it is bollocks."

"It's not bollocks. It is complicated. I wouldn't expect you to understand what's going on between Ian and me right now," she responded defensively.

Gabriel pulled her closer, deeper into the shade. "I need to understand," he beseeched keenly, before closing his eyes and sighed deeply. "Claire, he has been knocking on my door several times this week, asking me how you were. I did not see the magnitude of the situation until now. It appears to me that you and I have been spending more time than you did with your boyfriend. That shouldn't be right, should it?" he frowned fixedly, studying every fibre of her being.

"Oh God," she buried her face in her palms, "I can't believe he actually did that."

"He was concerned about you. I was told that you did not spend as much time with him as he would have liked. This led me to the conclusion that you did not see him at all when in fact, you were in the building, visiting me instead."

Claire's face paled as if she had just seen a ghost.

"I do not know if I should feel flattered or guilty," Gabriel pressed on apprehensively. "I have never found myself entrapped in such social situations. I do not know how to react further without collecting supplementary information regarding your relationship with Ian. Forgive me if the query was an intrusion to your personal life. I certainly did not mean it to be taken in that light," he gulped.

She bit her thumbnail, figuring out how exactly she could explain this without losing her mind first. In the end, she gave up and blurted out, "It's complicated."

Gabriel stared at her impassively before brusquely looking away, shaking his head in unconcealed disappointment. Claire ran after him and twirled him around so she could explain, before she realized that he was smiling wryly. "Oh, Claire," he tilted his head, "I wish you knew."

"Know what?"

Gabriel opened his mouth as if to say something, but in the end he settled with, "Nothing. It is not important."

Claire huffed. "Gabriel...?"

"It is not important."

Claire huffed. "Alright. I'm going to tell you what's important. My relationship with Ian, I don't think it's going anywhere. I don't miss him when he's not around. Now he's sleeping with Debbie Marshall from our class, and I don't even give a damn about him having a friend-with-benefit because I just don't, and— oh," the realization finally dawned on her.

"He's sleeping with—uh, what? Claire, I am not following."

"Gabriel, I think Ian thinks that you're my friend-with-benefit," she gasped.

"I am still not following."

Claire shook her head in disbelief, before grabbing Gabriel's hand.

"Follow me," she said.

--

Today was destined to be the most surreal day of Gabriel's life. First, he was amused at the immense lack of communication between Claire and Ian, which led her to this moment where she was proclaiming to the Englishman that he had never slept with her – fair enough, he thought; if taken in the sexual context of speaking.

Now, Ian was looking at him as if he would like to start a war.

Not productive at all.

It was exactly like what Claire had said – it's complicated, especially when Ian admitted to wrongly assuming that she was sleeping with him.

"What made you think that I was sleeping with Gabriel?" he heard Claire asked, with a high-pitched-tone he had never heard her use before.

"What made you think Claire was sleeping with me?" Gabriel echoed the query, because to be honest, even he was quite perplexed with Ian's blind theory -- one that had enabled him to sleep with a certain Miss Debbie Marshall. Because in Ian's logic, it was only fair for him to do so.

Claire had spoken again, Gabriel realized, while Ian rubbed his temple reproachfully. "This is so weird," she jeered. "I didn't even realize that we're in some sort of an open relationship until now. Which is the exactly the type of relationship you think we're having right now, isn't it?"

The atmosphere was thick enough that Gabriel thought he could slice it with a butter knife. "I do not think I should be privy to this conversation," he started to get up, gathering his things to leave.

Ian's voice thundered through the room. "No. Stay. You're part of this now, whether you like it or not."

Gabriel immediately sat back down, watching as Ian and Claire exchange irate glances with one another.

"Sorry for being the only one concerned enough to salvage our relationship. Sorry for being rightfully jealous of someone who's driving my girlfriend away from me. Sorry for jumping to conclusions, but anyone can see how you're fawning over him as you once obviously did with Peter-,"

Slap.

That must have stung. Gabriel recoiled in his seat. He should not be here and bear witness to the beginnings of an end. How did he get involved in this entanglement, anyway? His mind travelled back to the day he first met her, causing blood to travel away from his peripheries. "Shouldn't have returned her cellphone. Shouldn't have volunteered to carry her suitcase. Shouldn't have talked to her at all!" he berated inwardly, before he remembered that he had had this particular discussion with his own self before.

If he hadn't helped her that day, he wouldn't have been the man he was today.

Immediately a bigger sense of guilt returned to haunt him, as he wondered if he really was the reason for the commotion happening in front of him. But why would he want Claire to break it off with Ian, if he was a considerate friend? Shouldn't he be helping them patch things up? When did he become so selfish? Why did he want Claire all for himself?

"I'm sorry too. I'm sorry for not breaking this off with you sooner. I'm sorry for not realizing what an ass you are. I'm sorry, because even if I hadn't met Gabriel, I would have still done this. It's not his fault," she said aggressively, her nostrils flared. "It was never his fault. Gabriel has never said anything bad about you. If anything, he continually praises you. Maybe it's my fault then, because I was so blind. Because you...oh, Peter was so right about you," Claire retorted heatedly.

Ian shot Gabriel another fierce look. Gabriel took off his new pair of glasses and tipped his head back, staring back at Ian with equal ferocity. 'Listen to her,' the look must have implied, because Ian visibly flinched and turned his head back to look at Claire.

"I didn't even know why I fell for you. It happened so fast. You were in every way a Prince Charming. And that accent," Claire chuckled wryly, "God, who wouldn't fall for that accent? And I was such a hopeless romantic."

"Claire, we still can fix this. You asked for some space. I gave you space. I even let you move out from this apartment because I want you to be happy. But everything I do doesn't seem to be enough. What do you really want?" Ian reached for her, but she slid away from him just as when he was about to touch her.

"We already had this conversation, but you just don't seem to understand that what you do is sometimes more than enough. I feel saturated. Overwhelmed. I may have moved out but you never gave me that room I need to breathe. I find out that you've been sleeping with Debbie and I don't feel anything. I'm not angry, I'm not...sad. In fact I'm pleased that you've found someone else. So what do I want? Maybe I want us to be over because we're just not meant for each other."

"Did Peter put you up to all this?" Ian asked, his voice dripping with hurt and trepidation all rolled in one. "Did Debbie say anything to you?"

"No. I did this out of my own will," Claire admitted truthfully, despite knowing that it would hurt Ian's pride. His monumental, incorrigible ego. "It should hurt me to know that the morning I moved into this apartment, you were over at Debbie's. I wasn't hurt at all, curiously. And yes, Debbie confessed everything."

This was an interesting development.

"That had been a mistake! I don't even love her. We didn't even talk to each other after that--,"

"Until you thought that I was sleeping with Gabriel," she cut him off crossly. "Very clever, Ian. You smother me, and when you can't smother me anymore, you assumed the worst of me. And then you took off without saying a word, while trying to find some new way to smother me further. Very commendable."

Even Gabriel could not believe his ears. Claire had known for quite some time about Ian's infidelity, but she did not take action against him because...

Why? What was she waiting for?

"You didn't trust me, Ian. Maybe I do fawn over Peter. Maybe I do fawn over Gabriel. You know what? He is my friend and he trusts me. I trust him. He listens to me the way Peter has listened to me...the way that you never will."

It all happened so quickly. Claire was laying down reasons of why her relationship with Ian would not work in one moment, before Gabriel felt a punch landing firmly on his face in the next.

It all happened so quickly.

Claire screamed "Stop it!" and tried to get Ian off Gabriel, but her words barely registered. In the meantime, Ian was sputtering out several variations of the phrase 'Son of a bitch' and 'You bastard', before swinging his fist for another blow. Gabriel managed to duck a split second before Ian's hand connected to the fluffy top edge of the sofa, taking the chance to wrench away and deliver his own hit directly onto Ian's abdomen.

If Ian had taken Gabriel for a weak opponent, he was exceptionally wrong. Certainly, in the many occasions Ian had asked Gabriel for help, he had been sizing the geek up in case this day was ever to happen. Ten out of ten times he would tell himself that he'd easily win the fight despite Gabriel's taller build. Gabriel was skinny, lanky; harmless.

So why was Gabriel the one who slammed him full strength onto the floor, restraining him on the ground? Ian was the jock material. Gabriel was supposed to be the bullied nerd.

Reality couldn't be more deluding than this, because Gabriel was currently the one dodging Ian's punches expertly, receiving hits occasionally without as much as an annoyed scowl, instead of painful growls that Ian had intended. Somewhere during their brawl, Gabriel's glasses had been knocked off; his pristinely brushed hair had gone wild and dishevelled. Suddenly, he wasn't so much of the nerd Ian knew anymore.

"Stop. It," Gabriel ordered menacingly above him, his strong fingers clutching Ian's jaw in a death grip. "Please desist from making a larger fool out of yourself," he told Ian again coolly, yet with a voice that could have roused Thanatos. The sight of Gabriel hovering over him with an unreadable stare incited an arcane fear that flowed through Ian's veins.

For the first time, Ian felt humbled; it was as if he was gazing into the immortal gaze of Death itself.

"Claire, could you go up to my apartment and get the first aid kit?" Gabriel bellowed, before helping Ian up. "I am sorry. I did not mean to injure you. I've avoided from hitting your face," he explained, before studying Ian's face intently. "There will be no obvious bruises, except maybe from where I gripped your jaw. Sorry about that, too. It had to be done."

Ian hissed in pain when he tried to lean forward.

"The hit on your abdomen was purely acted out of self defence," Gabriel blinked. "I suggest it best for you to limit your abdominal movements."

The click of the door indicated that Claire had gone upstairs to Gabriel's apartment, which led to an unbearable silence – except for the uninterrupted ticking of the clock.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Gabriel was bizarrely at ease with the reverberating sound, staying poised and motionless.

"She was right," Ian finally gathered himself together to speak. "Our relationship happened really fast. I didn't even know her well enough back then. I...uh," he sighed in frustration.

"Do you love her?" Gabriel asked promptly. Impassive.

Ian inhaled a great deal of air before letting out an unselfconfident, "I thought I did. But I didn't." He swallowed thickly and continued, "It was...lust at first sight. The love part came later. But it wasn't the kind of love needed to sustain a proper relationship. I still love her now but...it isn't...romantic, I don't think."

"Sex appeal is an essential element in the process of choosing a mate," Gabriel had wanted to say, but indisputably this was not an appropriate time. Even if it was meant in goodwill. Instead, he said something less heartless. Something he had observed; something true, if not close to the truth. "You do care about her. Or you would have not taken the initiative to ask me how she was each time you bump shoulders with me."

Ian shrugged.

"Do you love Debbie, then?"

"She's just a friend. I know she has feelings for me, but...I dunno..."

Gabriel appeared to mull over Ian's incomplete answer before glancing back at him. "There is one more thing. You have not answered our question. Why did you think Claire was sleeping with me?" he leaned back casually, sliding his tongue past his bloodied lip, wincing slightly at the taste of blood.

"Claire's never been close to anyone before. Apart from her uncle Peter. And me," Ian spoke ruefully. "Peter's family, I understand that. But then she met you...and something happened."

"You cannot believe that Claire is capable of maintaining a close relationship with a member of the opposite gender which does not involve sex," Gabriel inferred dully.

Ian nodded, "Because it had been the basis of our relationship."

"You saw me as a threat. As a result you became more protective of her, not realizing that you were growing increasingly possessive. More than you already have been. The more you kept her in, the more she wanted out."

"You gave her things I couldn't provide."

"I offered her friendship. Rather, she offered me friendship, but I digress," Gabriel tried to smile, but ended up clenching his jaw in pain. "You threw a good punch," he commented bluntly. "The act of masticating will be an utmost inconvenience."

The Englishman snickered weakly. "Sorry about that. I was too mad at you to use my head properly." He fell silent, before blurting out a question Gabriel had not anticipated. "Do you love her?"

The door opened before Gabriel could muster a reply. But even then, Ian could see the answer reflected in Gabriel's intrepid eyes when Claire entered the apartment.

And he wasn't angry anymore, because he finally understood.

"Claire, I'm sorry," he stood up in haste, not even caring about the pain in his torso. Claire stopped in her stride, eyeing him suspiciously. "You were right. We can't go on like this. All I want is a chance for me to start over. As a, uh, friend. And nothing more," he said, before glancing down thoughtfully at Gabriel. The older man gazed back at Ian charily, before switching his focus on Claire.

"I understand if you don't want to talk to me after what I've done, I just –," he shook his head in defeat, before making an honest-to-God statement that made both Claire and Gabriel gasp in surprise. "You're really lucky to find a friend like him, you know? Because Gabriel loves you. Unconditionally. And that's something I have yet to learn to do."

Gabriel avoided Claire's gaze all day afterwards. He strongly wished that he could undergo an MRI scan to confirm the chemical reactions that might have caused him to feel this way – but it won't be that simple.

--

Gabriel had a haircut.

To an extent, Claire felt at loss, but he had opted for a faux-hawk style that reminded her of David Beckham. The idea itself was humorous, especially when Gabriel was placed in the equation, but it worked plausibly. The new prescription glasses were also broken during the Ian incident; Gabriel had to resort to wearing contact lenses for the time being.

The bruises on his face had healed faster than he had anticipated, and chewing food did not become a problem at all, to his astonishment. However, the lack of glasses and his scruffy appearance drew many inquisitive glances from his colleagues. Mohinder became the accidental perpetrator of gossip when he broke the news to Maya, who informed her friends, who informed their friends. By Monday noon, half the place had erupted with news that the usually quiet, reserved and once-bespectacled Dr. Gabriel Gray was involved with the New England Mafia.

Bored scientists make great gossipers.

"Hey," he greeted her heedlessly.

"Hi," she replied back. "Your hair," she began.

"I have no comment on the matter."

"Right," she tried to suppress a bubbling giggle. "I have an opinion to spare if you'd like to listen."

Gabriel cast a sharp sideway glance at her. "Proceed."

She moved gracefully towards his work desk and stood next to him, focusing her attention primarily at his head. "I think you look most dashing with your new haircut," she said, avoiding his eyes.

Gabriel sat up straight. "Dashing?" It was the last thing he would expect her to say. "That was a very...dashing adjective to use, Claire. Yet it still stands to be corrected," he professed carefully. He blinked his eyes once, twice, before inadvertently switching to a lost puppy look. "My head feels strange."

Her full lips curved up in a shrewd smile. "Have you looked at yourself in the mirror?"

"Yes, of course I have," he replied, a tad confused. "What motives did you aspire to conceal behind the question?"

"Correct me, then. What adjective is most applicable to describe your new appearance?"

Gabriel bit his bottom lip. "Strange?" he proposed unpersuasively.

Turning the swiveling chair so that they faced each other, she bent forward and grazed her fingers lightly at the sides of his head. "I prefer dashing," she half-whispered.

"If you say so," Gabriel gulped nervously, as Claire's fingers began to knead his scalp, pulling slightly at his hair, causing his head to jerk backwards. She wasn't sure of what she was doing anymore. Her initial intention was just to touch him for a fleeting second, but then his eyelids fluttered and his lips were parted and she swore she heard him moan and --

"Forgive the deficiency of a more appropriate vernacular," he panted softly, "but this feels so...damn...good." Gabriel's eyes were now shut tight, his long eyelashes beckoning her to move her thumb across his cheeks, while her other hand clutched behind his head.

She straddled him.

He stiffened. He did not move; he did not push her away. He was in shock. His dark eyes were wide open. He held his breath for as long as he could.

"Gabriel, I'm sorry!" she shrieked when she realized where her legs were. "I got carried away," she apologized profusely before trying to clamber off him. Warm hands held her hips firmly in place before they landed swiftly on her thighs. "It's alright," he murmured hoarsely. "Stay."

The last word was mouthed silently, but Claire understood. They remained like statues in what felt like hours.

He moved first.

His palm caressed her translucent cheeks, fingers drawing invisible threads at her ear. His thumb traced the bridge of her nose before going southwards, parting her lips slightly. Her breath hitched as he held her chin gently. His other hand traveled to the nape of her neck, his thumb pressed against her pulse. "Your heart rate is elevated," he drawled idly.

It felt like a long time since she last spoke. "You're playing doctor with me now?"

"I am a doctor," he reminded her.

"In engineering," she shot back instantaneously.

He did not reply. Instead, his eyebrows rose comically, inducing a moment of hilarity. "I am certified to do first-aid resuscitation as a member of the Red Cross Society."

It took her a lot of might to stop herself from saying, 'Then resuscitate me now because I'm breathless,' but Gabriel would not appreciate the lameness. Not ever.

Even if it was true.

What struck her more was how similar this was to the Spock-and-sexy-Romulan-commander scene in one of the Star Trek episodes Gabriel had forced her to watch. It had been mystifying for her then, because how could face caressing could be considered erotic? The theory did make sense, but in practicality, she had totally dismissed it.

"Claire," he said, finally, through clouded eyes. "Of all people," he tried to clear his mind, "you..." he trailed off, yet he did not let go of his stronghold on her. "Ian was wrong," he bit his lip in frustration.

"What do you mean?" she mumbled dazedly. Since the affray, she had been wondering what Gabriel had said that had caused change in Ian's attitude. There was no doubt that Ian had been taken aback by Gabriel's unforeseen belligerence. Claire had experienced that dark side of unrepressed anger, first hand. Seeing him exert a sum of it on Ian had been surreal, because for once Gabriel had taken control, overpowering Ian with strength and wit coalesced. Claire had felt a mixture of pride and intimidation – the dorky Gabriel was adorable in every sense, but a dark and dangerous Gabriel?

He was the devilish angel in disguise.

Logic dictated that they should spring free from each other the moment the knowledge hit them both, but she hadn't been a fan of logic anyway. Her gaze was locked with his, trying hard to read his mind. If she hadn't known better, she'd have said 'lust'.

But this was Gabriel, and Gabriel and 'lust' should not go hand-in-hand.

A carnal curiosity, then?

"I was wrong," he rephrased his words, "and maybe this is wrong," he ran his hand down the back of her spine. "I'm sorry, Claire."

He was sorry, because he didn't love her the way Ian had implied. This was not an unconditional love for a friend.

She did not understand. "Sorry for wh—umph,"

He kissed her --

Because he was unconditionally in love with her.

to be continued...

A/N#2: This has to happen, sooner or later. All the previous chapters have been leading up to this. And for it to happen, Ian has to go. For Ian to go, this chapter was written to deal with it. You could still see some Sylaresque streaks in Gabriel, though. It hadn't been lost completely in the aftermath of the previous chapter. I suppose if Gabriel hadn't been intimidating towards Ian, the younger Brit would never let Claire slide that easily. He could see something in Gabriel that had changed, and that completely altered his view of the resident geeky neighbor, i.e; Gabriel Gray is no longer a spineless, cowardy nerd. He needs a dark side in him to balance himself out, to be a normal human being...

The question is, will he be able to prevent himself from being consumed by it? Would his feelings towards Claire change anything?

The point I'm making is vividly illustrated by the Star Trek TOS episode, The Enemy Within. You know, the one where good!Kirk and evil!Kirk are two separate entities left prowling aboard the Enterprise after a transporter mishap? (But this is a Heroes fic, so I'll leave it at that). :p

The next chapter is going to be...very different. I dunno if you guys are going to like it. But I'll worry about that later. As of now, I just want to hear your thoughts on this chapter!