Chapter 10: The Beginning of the End

Manhattan, 16 Years Ago

"Their niece is staying with Arthur and Angela, and she brought her son," the silver-haired man continued. "He's about Claire's age. The only thing is, we'd be concerned about his mental health. You see, his father has a high functioning manifestation of autism, and it is possible that he passed it on to the child. We can't tell quite yet, but it's very possible."

"Do that to a kid like that? That's worse than Bennet's girl!" Claude argued.

"Honestly, Rains, why can't you be more like Bennet? Why do you have to be so humanistic? We function in the morally gray, remember?"

"I came from a rather gray country. I hate gray." They started walking toward the opening. Gabriel shrank back.

"Hiro, let's go!" the Japanese man outside said.

"Mama!" the Japanese kid cried.

"Mama?" Hiro said. He started going toward a door in the back saying excitedly, "My mommy is here! I have to see her!"

"Guys, keep it down!" Gabriel said through his teeth. "They'll hear us!"

He overheard Claude say, "Happy Father's Day!"

But Claire made just as much a clatter following Hiro. "Hey, where are you going? Should I stay with me, or should I go with you?" Hiro shrugged and stamped off. "Come on, Gabriel!"

"Hang on!" Gabriel called back as softly as he could. His heart beating a mile a minute, he looked out and saw the spies walk down the stairway from the roof. Gabriel heaved a deep sigh, so relieved that they didn't hear them. He got up and headed for the same door.

Suddenly, he felt a violent tug on his hoodie, choking him. He thought for a moment that one of the plants caught him, until he felt an arm clamp around his chest and heard a voice say in his ear, "Well, what have we here? A little spy?"

"Let me go!"

"What are you doing here, lad?"

"Monsieur Rains, let me go!"

Then, for just one split second, there was a flash of blue light, and Gabriel got out of Claude's grip. He faced his invisible friend, who looked tremendously confused. "How do you know me?"

Gabriel didn't want to explain right away that he was from the future, since the last time he traveled through time, that was so hard to explain. So instead he said, "So that's what you look like without a beard. You should shave more often."

"You can see me?"

"You can't let them do that to the Petrelli's nephew!"

"What business is that of yours?"

"Because I'm the Petrelli's nephew!"

"I don't think so!"

"No, it's true. It's hard to explain, but you're just gonna have to take a leap of faith."

"Wait a minute . . ." Claude put his finger to his lips like he was thinking and came closer to Gabriel, inspecting him. "How'd you do that thing with the light?"

"I . . . I can't explain it."

"I think you should come with me."

"Well, I will, but my friends just went over–"

"NOW!" Claude seized him again and drug him down the stairs.

Pinehearst, Present Day

It was amazing, once all the numbers were figured, how easily the equation was formed. Mr. Petrelli came in late in the morning. "Well, Doctor, have you figured it out yet?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. The composition that Michael Bonhomme gave us is . . . the formula."

"You mean the same formula we have?"

"Yes."

"With or without the catalyst?"

"I did not see anything extra specifically like that."

"So, he game us the exact same formula."

"No, not exactly the same. Look, the periods are higher. The molecules are more free-flowing. The outer electronic shells are satisfied. Mr. Petrelli, this is the formula in a gaseous state."

"Red mist," Mr. Petrell reflected.

"This is excellent news! In such a state, it can be more easily absorbed by the system. It could be more widespread and fast."

"I'm not so sure I want that, Doctor. From the beginning, I've wanted to be selective of who gets powers and who does not. For now, let's just keep this on the table. It's a viable option, but we'll leave it as a last resort."

Mr. Petrelli then walked down to his office. Michael Bonhomme was waiting for him there. "Michael! Good to see you back! Did you take good care of my boys?"

"Yes, they are both fine," Michael answered.

"Glad to hear it. When I found out they were going to Haiti, I was real worried. I lost sleep over it."

"Arthur, I have something to say."

"What is it?"

"I've been thinking, and I realized that most of the time, I've just been sitting in my room playing piano. That helps me relax, and it helped me get better acquainted with your son, but it doesn't do anything to help you."

"Believe me, Michael, you've done more for me than you realize."

"But I want to do more! I really want to make what's going on in Pinehearst a reality. The future depends on it."

"I know you do. However, along that line, I do have something serious to discuss with you. When you were out, I happened to discover this in your room." He pulled out a cellphone and a Bluetooth piece. "I believe you have a voicemail message." He dialed the number for the voicemail and turned on the speaker.

Noah Bennet's voice came on, "Hello Michael. I just want to let you know that you don't need to worry about Sylar anymore. He's dead. I killed him by slitting his throat with a box cutter. I don't know how much you know about this, but there's an eclipse going on that's suspending abilities. So, it's impossible that he's going to heal. Another thing I should tell you is that I discovered that he's not related to you at all. I read his file, and he's not the son of Angela and Arthur Petrelli. They're lying to him, and they're lying to you and Gabriel to make the lie seem genuine. I hope you're doing well. With any luck, you're probably sleeping during the eclipse. Anyway, call me when you get this. I want to hear how things are going on your side. Bye." Arthur closed the cellphone, crossed his arms, and gave Michael a hard look.

The Professor tried hard to hold back tears. "It's true. Bennet did hire me to spy on this place. He wanted to learn more, and he didn't trust his partner. But that doesn't mean that my feelings about what we are doing here weren't real! And now, they're more real than ever! Arthur, I really want this to come about. I am dedicated wholeheartedly."

Arthur smiled and nodded. "I know you are. Now, why don't you go back to your room? We'll let you know when we need you."

"Thank you, sir." Michael stepped out of the room, and the moment he did, he ran to his room and wept.

Arthur quickly took out his phone and dialed Elle's number. He was surprised to hear Sylar's voice answer. "What?"

"Sylar? You are alive! I just heard a report that stated the contrary."

"That's old news."

He didn't like the dark tone of the young man's voice. He didn't sound so juvenile anymore, which meant he was going to be harder to manipulate. "You were supposed to be here by now! Where's Claire?"

"Gone into thin air."

"What happened?"

"Don't know, don't care."

"Put Elle on."

"I'm afraid I can't do that right now."

"Now, you listen here, young man–"

"No, you listen. I'm not helping you anymore, Arthur. I'm not helping anyone. I talked to Bennet. He told me everything. He told me you're not my father. I want the truth." His voice suddenly got more distant. "And I know exactly where I'm gonna find it. I got a whole new list of people with abilities. It's going to be very useful."

"Don't do this! Come see me."

"Don't worry, I will. Very soon." Gabriel hung up, leaving Arthur feeling very much at the end of his rope.

Immediately after he got off the phone with that con man, Gabriel continued to dump lighter fluid on the corpse's body. He thought about Arthur, the lies he told him. And he thought about the lies the Piano Man told him. He was proud of him? For what? There had to be a catch, something he wanted. He just was trying to make himself comfortable with a dangerous man. Gabriel decided he was going to find out what he really wanted first. He'll trick him into it.

He looked down at the girl's body. "Goodbye, Elle," he whispered. He touched her shoulder, then stood above the corpse and sent out a jolt of lightning. He watched as she burned. In his heart, he was sad to see her go. Then, he decided that if this piano guy was as deceptive as he thought he was, he will get the same fate. He will burn.

"Darling, good news. We're adopting a daughter! . . . Please, don't ask questions like that. Her name's Claire. I'm going to drop her off with you . . . Yes, I know but work . . . Alright, we'll see you, bye." Noah hung up the pay phone and turned around to see his partner with a young man in his grip. "Who've you got there, Claude?"

"Peeping Tom," he answered.

"My name's Gabriel!" the boy yelled.

"Uh, his name's Gabriel. Is Thompson about?"

"I think he's over by the car."

"Where are your glasses?" Gabriel shouted.

There was a bit of a pause, and Noah and Claude just laughed as though sharing a private joke. "Oh, um, Claude if you don't mind," Noah said, "since I'm a father now, I got my hands full, so could you do an errand for me?"

"Of course!"

"I just need you to pick up something at this address sometime today."

"No problem. I can do that." Noah handed him a slip of paper, and Claude put it in his pocket. "Hey, don't work too hard today, Noah."

"I'll make no promises."

As he walked on, Gabriel thought he saw a girl with blonde hair staring at him from the bushes. "Claire!" he mouthed, but just before he could get a good look, Claude jerked him over.

"Thompson!" Claude called.

The silver-haired man took an unappealing look at the boy. "What's going on?"

"I found this kid spying on us on the Deveaux roof."

"You know the drill, Claude. Get him some drugs and tranquilizers and leave him alone."

"You didn't let me finish! Wait until I tell you what I saw him do."

Just then, Gabriel heard a soft beeping noise. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cellphone. "What happened?" a text message from Claire read.

Gabriel typed back with one thumb, "Caught! Where's Hiro?"

"I think he could be our light," Claude said. "We may not even need to send the baby to Nakamura."

"Do you think so?"

"I know I saw him do something. Do we have to send him all the way back to Primatech to test him?"

That moment, Gabriel got another text message. "With his parents. We'll meet on the roof tonight. If you're not there, I'll rescue you."

"I think I know a research facility that's closer," the silver haired man answered.

"What's this?" Claude said grabbing the cellphone out of the boy's hands. "They're making 'walkie-readies' now?"

"Perhaps you should tranquilize the boy."

"Certainly. Can't having him blabbing, can we?" Gabriel tried to resist, but this time Claude was too strong, and the silver-haired man was helping. So Gabriel felt the needle jab his neck, and he fell asleep.

Nathan took a walk around the corridors, after seeing Tracy's idea of "intelligent design," to think about it all. In the hall, he suddenly heard loud wailing. He followed the sound to a small room with a piano and a cot. A man he had just seen in Haiti was sitting on that cot, crying his eyes out. "Mr. Bonhomme? What are you doing here? What's wrong?"

"GABRIEL'S DEAD!" Michael wailed.

"He is? How, how do you know that?"

"I heard it from Bennet. He called me."

"Um, listen, I got connections. I'll just send someone around to verify. If it's true, I'll make sure your son has a decent funeral."

"Son? No, wait!"

"Not now. I know your grieving. We'll talk about this later, alright?"

He walked out of the room and heaved a heavy, sad sigh. Tracy was waiting for him, her arms crossed. "Sorry about that. We still haven't figured out what do with the old, autistic guy."

"That old, autistic's guy's my cousin . . . in-law . . . if there is such a thing. Look, he's the father of the boy I nearly became the guardian of. At any rate, he's family. I owe him something."

"Well, if you ask me, he's really just taking up space. Arthur agrees. He and I were even talking this morning about disposing of him."

Gabriel groggily lifted his head. He was in a room all painted in white. It looked like . . .

"Les Dynamiques Massifes."

"You're awake!" That man with the silver hair came in. He had such a big, obnoxious smile. The boy didn't like it. "My name's Thomson. What's yours?"

Gabriel looked around. "Where's Monsieur Rains?"

"That's a highly unusual name."

"No, my name is Gabriel, but I would rather talk to Monsieur Claude Rains, s'il vous plait."

"Well, too bad. You're talking to me." He leaned over and looked Gabriel in the eyes. "How do you know Rains, and what were you doing spying on him?"

"It's . . . complicated."

"Son, you don't know complicated. I've seen things you can't even begin to get your head around."

"Alright then. I am from the future. I don't know how far ahead. I had a friend who travels in time grab me, said he needed my help, and he took me here. He never explained why, and we got separated."

"You see, that wasn't so hard, was it Gabriel?"

"You believe me?"

"And Rains tells me that when he restrained you that you seemed to glow for a moment, a blue glow. Can you tell me about that?"

"I don't know what it is. It only happens sometimes when I'm threatened or when I encounter someone else on the spectrum."

"Spectrum? What do you mean?"

"The autism spectrum." Thomson then got a very serious look. Gabriel read it in fear. "What are you going to do to me?" he whispered.

Thomson got up. "I'm going to find a way to test it. Don't worry, I'll try to make it as painless as possible."

"That's not the point! Are you just going to experiment on me because of what I am? Do you think I won't resist? Do–" But as Thomson walked out, Gabriel had an epiphany. He think he understood what this light was after all.

Michael continued to weep. Mohinder came in with his daily afternoon tea. "I know you're not doing well," the young scientist told him, "but try the tea. It'll help you feel better. Nathan's looking for Gabriel. He hasn't found anything yet. I referred him to a source he could try. And I do have some news that I believe will help cheer you up."

"What's that?" Michael asked wearily.

"You're going to change the world." From there, he told him everything, about how they had been monitoring his playing the piano, slipping him dopamine, and how he supplied them with the improved formula. Michael looked betrayed for a little bit, but once Mohinder explained the outcome, he got excited. His face lit up, and he started crying tears of joy.

A couple of hours later, a young lady carrying a baby boy was brought in to the same building. A young Englishman held open the door. "This way." The woman gave the man another uncomfortable, examining glance. "Why do you keep looking at me like that?"

"I feel like I've seen you before."

The young Englishman chuckled. "I assure you, Mrs. Bonhomme, you haven't seen me before."

"No, I'm rather sure I have. I know that face, and that voice, but . . . Oh, I remember. It was a couple of weeks ago."

"Uh, where was this exactly?"

She took a deep breath. "Do you know much poetry?"

"Well, I've been to university, and . . . yes, of course. England turned out a bunch of good poets. Shakespeare, Auden, Pound, Eliot–"

"Yeats."

"I was about to say Yeats. Why?"

"Never mind, it's stupid."

"No! No, go ahead. Tell me."

She sighed. "I saw you in a dream. You were standing on a roof with my son in your arms, and you were reciting Yeats. And you sounded so disillusioned and hopeless. It made me cry. Look, I told you it was stupid."

He laughed. "That is bizarre. Yeats wrote some strong stuff, didn't he. Not really lullaby material."

They were joined by an older man. "Thank you, Claude. I'll take it from here."

"Yes sir, Mr. Petrelli." He nodded politely to the lady and took his leave (or so they thought).

"So, Uncle Arthur, what was it you wanted me to do?" the woman asked.

"It's actually rather simple. I want you to show your son to that young man in there." He pointed through a two-way mirror.

"Who is he?"

"That's not really any of your business, darling. Just do what I ask you, please." She looked into his face for a moment, and then she slowly nodded. He opened the door for her. "Don't say a word to him."

She walked in gradually. Gabriel shrank back when he saw her. "Vous ette ma ma . . . Vous ette ma ma . . ." (You're my ma . . .)

She suddenly looked very sad and confused, but she didn't say anything as her uncle had instructed her. She held out the baby in her arms.

"C'est moi?" (It's me?)

She didn't answer. Gabriel kept telling himself he shouldn't fool with this, but he could not resist. He had to look closer. He reached out to touch the baby's face, and the infant's little hand grasped his finger. Instantly, both Gabriels beamed a bright blue, filling the whole cell. The older Gabriel wanted to stop it, but the younger Gabriel wouldn't let go. On the other side of the glass, Arthur and Thomson were both watching in amazement, but they were not alone. Someone who was not on their staff was observing, too.

Across town, Hiro met his mother and regained his memories. Once he understood what he had to do, he made a request. "Mother," he said to her tenderly but firmly, "give me the catalyst. Give me the light. I will defend it."

"Your father wants me to give it to a baby," Mrs. Nakamura said. "He is calling Noah Bennet now."

"I am strong enough to protect it!" Hiro asserted. "I can keep it safe! Believe me, I know in me it will . . . be best."

"I always believed in you, my son. However," she pulled a small slip of paper from her kimono, "keep this with you in a safe place. Should something happen to you, this will tell where else the catalyst may be found."

"Yes, mother. I have a very secure safe in Tokyo."

"Yes, I know." Then she held his hands and touched his chest. She glowed a fiery orange light, and that glow was passed on from her to Hiro. He could feel it warming his soul, energizing his spirit. "I am so proud of you, Hiro," his mother whispered.

"You're the one who did it," Hiro whispered back. "You showed me what it means to be to be a hero." He turned to her, but she was dead.

A little while later, a cockeyed man with red hair came into Gabriel's cell. He had a rather unpleasant sneer on his face. "Good day," he said rather creepily.

"Who are you?" Gabriel asked.

"Ah! He speaks German, too!"

"German?"

"There's no need to know, lad, who I am. But I saw what you could do. Fascinating." The man started pacing around. "You probably do not realize this, boy, but you have great potential. This world is about to become very dangerous, but you have a way of fighting. You have the power to resist it! You possibilities, young man, are limitless."

Gabriel didn't know what to say, how to react to this stranger. Was he a friend or a foe? He couldn't tell! The man offered his hand. "Join us."

Suddenly, there was a bang, and the man fell down unconscious. Gabriel looked up. "Monsieur Rains?"

"Shh!" he ordered. He held out his arm. "Take my hand." Gabriel took it without hesitation. "Now, this is important. Don't let go until I tell you."

"D'accord," Gabriel nodded. Claude took a very deep breath and closed his eyes. "Is something wro–?"

"GO!" Claude grasped Gabriel's hand tighter, and they ran out of the cell. As they ran past people who didn't even look at them, Gabriel understood. Claude made himself invisible, and by touching Gabriel he made him invisible too. He led the boy outside to a car and threw him in. Then he ran around and got behind the wheel, shivering. "A rush, isn't it?" Then he sped out of the lot.

"Who was that guy?" Gabriel asked.

"We don't know, and therein lies the problem."

"He works for Massive Dynamics?"

"How'd you know that's where we were?"

"I recognized the building. I had an interview here a couple of days ago."

"You could have said something!"

"I don't know. I was still trying to get over the shock of getting kidnaped!"

"At any rate, we were assured that the people there were loaning us space, and they wouldn't interfere. That German creep obviously didn't get the memo. Trust me, he disturbed me as well. Frankly, though, I saw no reason to keep you down here. Suffice to say, you're not what we thought you were."

"So I don't have the catalyst?"

Claude looked at him suspiciously. "How do you know so much?"

"It's a long story."

"Well, I got time. Let me just . . . oh, drat!" He pulled out a slip of paper from his pocket. "Noah's errand, I forgot! And this place is probably near closing time. Well, let's see to that as quick as we can."

He drove around New York until he parallel parked outside a watch store. Gabriel thought it wouldn't be safe to wait in the car, so he went in. He wandered around, looking at all the watches and clocks. Then he looked up when he heard his name.

"Gabriel, don't forget to brush your teeth!"

Well, then he realized that the speaker wasn't talking to him. He always did a double-take when he heard his own name.

"Yes, Mother!" a voice called back. Gabriel followed the voice to a room in the back. A young boy with dark hair was looking up at the night sky. He folded his hands and recited,

"Star light, star bright,

First star I see tonight,

I WISH I may, I WISH I might,

Have the WISH I wish tonight."

Then the boy shut his eyes really tight. Gabriel turned on a lamp to get a better look at the boy, wondering if he was who he thought it was. "Is your name Gabriel?" he asked.

The boy opened his eyes and nodded.

"Gabriel . . . Sylar?"

The boy laughed. "Daddy didn't name me after a watch!"

Gabriel didn't understand, so he decided to connect with the boy. "You know, my name's Gabriel, too."

"Really?"

"Yeah. What was that you were wishing?"

"I can't say! If I tell, it won't come true!"

"That's silly! How can anybody help make it come true if you don't tell anybody?"

The boy looked at Gabriel in wonder. "Can you make it come true?"

"I might. You have to tell it to me, first."

"I wished for a new life. I don't want to be a watchmaker, like Daddy. I wish that I could be someone special, someone Mommy and Daddy would be proud of. Can you make that wish come true?"

Gabriel shook his head. "No, I can't. But you know what? You can. When you become older, you can make your own choices. You don't have to be a watchmaker. You can be anything you want."

"But how?"

"You decide what you want to be, and you work very hard to achieve it. You have to be dedicated, determined. It also helps to be nice to people. Be kind and polite, and above all, never ever ever hurt anyone!"

"That's all I have to do?"

"That's about it."

The boy turned away thinking, and then Claude rushed in. "Come on, kid. It's time to go!" He grabbed Gabriel's arm and pulled him away.

"I'm gonna do it!" the boy said, but when he turned around, the other Gabriel was gone.

Michael ran into the lab in the back. He found a huge vat of red liquid. Mohinder, Tracy, and Nathan were all standing around it. Michael approached it in awe. "So, this is it!"

"This is it," Mohinder nodded.

"I thought you said it was a gas."

"It will be. In its current state, it's not quite complete."

"What does it lack?"

"Father's going out right now to get the last ingredient," Nathan said.

"Then after we get it, we're going to convert it to a gas and pump it into the atmosphere, right?"

"Now, now, Mr. Bon-home," Tracy said in a patronizing voice, "let's not move too fast. We got to test this first, you understand?"

"Tracy, don't treat him like a child," Nathan said firmly. He looked at Michael. "Walk with me, please, Mr. Bonhomme."

"Yes, sir."

They walked out of the lab. "How are you feeling?"

"Better since Mohinder and I talked."

"Well, I'm sorry to say that we've yet to locate Gabriel's body. We haven't even found even a trace."

"I really think we should discuss this."

"It's alright. I'm happy to do it. I feel as though I owe him, even though I never became his guardian. Listen, about this formula . . . it's going to be a while before we do anything on a big scale. Tracy has a select group, and we're going to test it on them first. We'll do several tests: liquid state versus gaseous state, different mixtures, different conditions, all sorts of things. We just want to make sure this is going to work. You understand?"

"Yes, of course I do. And once everything works out, then you will release to the atmosphere? Please, whenever you do, will you let me know when? I'd like to see it."

"Mr. Bonhomme," Nathan sighed and stopped, "I think we have two different philosophies. I don't think it's right to give everyone in the world abilities."

"Why not? It's the only way that's fair."

"Don't you see? Think about it. Think about how it would be if we had more people like Baron Samedi in the world. What would it be if someone like Osama bin Laden or Adolf Hitler had abilities? If everyone had abilities, we're just leaving ourselves open for those kinds of people. Abilities should be reserved for those who deserve them."

"Who do you mean?"

"You know, people who are strong enough, intelligent enough, who have their hearts in the right place, people who really want to be heroes."

"And who's to say the evil ones don't deserve this blessing? Do they ever change?"

"Well, we both know that's unlikely."

"No! Only you think that now. There was a man here, a very evil man. He tried to kill me, my son, more than once. He frightened me to death when he first came under this roof. But I watched, and I saw him become someone caring and forgiving and understanding. I saw the pain in his heart, how low his gauge is of . . . love. I could see his true hunger, and I tried to guide him to the food that he needed. And now . . . and now, he's dead! I know he didn't die as the wicked man I knew when I first saw him, but I worry for his soul. He died in his sins."

"Wait, you mean to tell me this is the Gabriel you're in mourning for, not your son?"

"I know, it's confusing, but he doesn't deserved to be called by the name of his past anymore. He's changed.

"Wish I could be as optimistic as you. Look, I'll take your thoughts into consideration if you will do the same for mine. Fair enough?"

"I suppose so."

"Good."

More stars were out as Gabriel and Claude climbed up to the Deveaux roof. "So, is this where you hid the TARDIS?" Claude asked.

"The what?" Gabriel replied.

Claude shook his head. "Nothing."

Gabriel walked up to the edge and looked at the night sky. "I always loved the view up here."

Claude nodded and said something like, "Yeah," under his breath. Then he looked up at the skyline, took it in for a while, then said slowly and darkly, "I have met them at close of day coming with vivid faces."

"Who?"

He didn't answer but went on, "From counter or desk among gray eighteenth-century houses. I have passed with a nod of the head, or polite meaningless words, or have lingered awhile and said polite meaningless words."

Gabriel tried to interject again, but Claude continued, getting more sarcastic and agitated as he went on, "And thought before I had done of a mocking or a gibe to please a companion around the fire at the club . . ." He took a deep breath, stared at the sky again, and said very slowly and mournfully:

"Being certain that they and I

But lived where motley is worn:

All changed, changed utterly:

A terrible beauty is born."

"Oh, I see. It's a poem."

"I just can't stop thinking of those words. I feel like this is the beginning of the end for me."

"Don't be silly. A beginning is a beginning."

"You don't understand. You don't know what I gave up to liberate you. It's not just because of that German creep. I wasn't supposed to take you off the premises until they gave the official word. It's what my partner would've done."

"You're not your partner. And he doesn't control your destiny. Only you control your destiny." Claude stared at him as though he was amazed that such wisdom was coming from a boy. Gabriel just looked away with a smirk. "I better stop now before I start sounding like a greeting card."

Claude laughed. "That's good. That's bloody awesome."

Gabriel suddenly looked at him in fear and searched all around his person.

"What's wrong?"

"Where? Where am I bleeding?"

Claude just laughed harder. "No, no, you're fine. It's a Brit thing, a rather vulgar phrase. I'm sorry to frighten you."

"Oh. Oh! Yes, I see now." Gabriel cooled down. Claude continued to snicker at his misunderstanding, but he slowly calmed down as well. "That was a nice poem," Gabriel said.

"Thank you. I can't take credit for it. It's a stanza from 'Easter, 1916' by William . . . Butler . . . Yeats." He turned to Gabriel. "What did you say your name was?"

"Gabriel."

"I mean, your surname."

"I don't think I ever said it. It's Bonhomme."

"Bonhomme," he whisper. "By George, I fulfilled a prophecy." They heard steps. "Someone's coming!" Claude grabbed Gabriel's wrist and pulled him under the chicken coop. Claire Bennet finished climbing the steps. She walked over to the edge of the roof and watched the skyline.

"That's Claire. She's my friend."

"Claire, as in Noah's daughter?"

"I call him the spy, but yes." Claire pulled out her cellphone and started texting. "Oh, I think you still have my phone."

"Who would you think of calling?"

"Well, if you don't hand it over, it will probably–"

Something beeped twice from Claude's pocket.

"–beep."

Claire didn't look like she heard. Claude handed Gabriel the phone, and the boy read her page, "Do you need my help?"

He started texting back that he was fine when he heard Hiro's voice. "Cheerleader, it's over. We can go home now." Gabriel saw his Japanese friend walking toward her from the greenhouse.

Claire smiled. "Hey, you speak English! I thought that–"

"It's a long story. Just know that I have taken the catalyst. The light is in me now. We have saved the future."

Claude and Gabriel exchanged shocked glances.

"Well, it's not over," Claire said. "Gabriel's kidnaped. We gotta save him."

"Oh, why didn't you say so? Take my hand. Let's–"

"Guess I showed up just in time!"

Gabriel knew that voice. He didn't see him come on the scene, but he didn't care. He knew what he had to do. He came out of his hiding place and shouted, "BONSOIR ONCLE SANGUE!" (Good evening, Uncle Leech!) Then he stepped in front of Claire and Hiro and blazed a brilliant blue light.

The leech gestured as though he was trying to push Gabriel out of the way, but nothing happened. "You . . . Gabriel . . . do you know what you're doing?"

"You will not hurt my friends!" Gabriel yelled at him. The leech continued to violently gesture, to no avail. Gabriel shouted again, "YOU WILL NOT HURT MY FRIENDS!" The light burned even more fiercely, blinding. Hiro put his hands on Gabriel's shoulders and tried to add his strength. Everyone else just looked in awe. And the leech faded as the light grew brighter. When Gabriel ran out of strength and the light disappeared, the leech was gone. Gabriel felt dizzy and weak, and everything went black. Hiro caught him as he passed out.

Michael met Arthur in his office. "Can I speak to you for a moment?"

"Oh, yes, Michael. I was hoping to see you. Come here."

Michael came closer to the desk. "You see, I was talking to Nathan about the formula. Mohinder told me what I've done, and–"

"Yes, I know. Michael, I just want to tell you how pleased I am with you. You provided so much information and morale here I think we will always appreciate. The way you helped with my long lost prodigal son changed him so much. I think I will always be grateful for his progress. I want you to know that I am honored that you are a part of the Petrelli family. You have truly met and exceeded my expectations. And I wonder if now you will allow me to give you a hug."

Michael had a very blank look on his face, and he very slowly nodded. "Yes, Uncle," he said in monotone.

Arthur smiled and came closer to him, arms outstretched. Just before he could close them around Michael, the door slammed open. Arthur turned away to see the new guest. "Peter! Glad you're here! Nathan and I were just about to–"

But he stopped short as Peter held up a gun. Michael looked at him in terror. "Peter, no!"

"Don't be ridiculous." Arthur made a gesture to push it away, but nothing happened. The Haitian walked up behind Peter. "So . . . you're here to kill me."

"I'm here to stop you," Peter said grimly. "Creating abilities like this, giving them out, it'll destroy the world."

"No, it won't!" Michael cried.

"Stay out of this, Professor. This is between me and my old man."

"I don't think you have the nerve to kill me, Peter!" Arthur said. Peter cocked the gun, but he still didn't pull the trigger.

"He's too strong," the Haitian said straining. "I cannot hold his power back!"

"Listen to me, son. There is another way. The formula is ready. Nathan is here. I can give you your abilities back. We can start over!"

"No," Peter whispered.

"Peter!" the Haitian yelled. "Shoot him now!"

"Wait, just wait."

"That's your problem, son," Arthur sneered, "too much thought, not enough action. How could be my son?"

As he was speaking, Peter fired the gun. Michael screamed at the loud noise and waited for its blow. Then, as his fears subsided, he opened his eyes and saw the bullet was still in midair, directed right at Arthur's brain. Michael wondered what was going on, until another figure emerge, holding up his hand, stopping the bullet.

"GABRIEL! YOU'RE ALIVE!" Michael started running toward him, but with just a look he was stopped in his tracks. He also used his power to throw the gun out of Peter's hand.

"Hello, Arthur," Sylar said in a murderous tone.

"You're here," Arthur said.

"I am. No place I'd rather be than with family." He looked at Michael and gave a small smile. "Obviously, you're happy to see me."

"Of course, I am," Michael replied.

"Might I ask why?"

"Well, I thought all day that you were dead."

"That doesn't mean anything. There are people in this room who want me dead." He looked over at Peter and the Haitian.

"But they haven't seen the person I have seen, the boy who wants to be a good person, a boy who hungers for forgiveness, for acceptance, for love. You've come so far. I believe you need those things. I believe you can be a good person, Gabriel."

Gabriel stared at him, but then he turned his look to Arthur. "What about you? Are you really my family?"

"Of course," Arthur said uncomfortably. "I'm your father."

Gabriel didn't take his eyes off him, but then he said coldly, "No, you're not. Now I know the truth." Then he looked at Michael. "As do you. So now, what do you think since you know the truth?"

Michael made eye contact in an instant and saw the eyes of a murderer, not the eyes of his friend. He turned and ran out of the room.

Sylar smiled. "That's what I thought." He looked at the young man he once called brother. "You're not a killer, Peter." He looked back at Arthur. "I am." And with one sudden gesture, he drove the bullet into the man's brain. Peter quickly picked up the gun. "Oh, there'll be no need for that. I'm not going to kill you. You don't have anything I need anymore."

"And Bonhomme?" Peter asked.

"I haven't decided yet. I don't think you have either." Sylar smirked and walked out of the room.

Michael ran back to his room, locked his door, threw himself onto the cot, and pressed his arms to his chest. He knew it was only a matter of time.

To be continued . . .