A/N: And...this is where I feel that I deserve to be shot. I dunno what to make of this anymore. I'm suffering from a severe writer's block and I'll just accept temporary suckage for now...which means that the next chapters won't be as regular as it has been these past few weeks. I mean, I have it all thought out in my head but it just didn't sound good on paper, you know? I've got to revise the draft that I have at hand and perfect it before updating the next chapter. Also, we're descending towards the end of the fic, now. A few chapters to go, and I'm done.
Let's just enjoy this chapter first, shall we?
Gosh, I sound so angsty. Sorry. I still love you guys. A LOT. Who am I without you?
Chapter 11
He could have blamed it on a surge of his testosterone drive, but he didn't.
He had kissed her.
It had meant to be a chaste kiss on the lips, but Gabriel had lunged precisely at the moment when her defenses were down. A square kiss that had lingered momentarily before they parted slightly, nuzzling each others' noses, pressing their foreheads to one another.
"I take it you wanted to ask, 'sorry for what,'" Gabriel breathed heavily.
Claire protested. "You don't need to say sorry for doing what you just did, because..." she trailed off without finishing her sentence. She claimed his lips for another kiss; slow, gentle. Gabriel responded shyly at first, hesitant, unsure; before his knack for understanding kicked in, causing him to match every subtle move she made and improvised.
The student slowly became the master.
She jolted in surprise when he deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring every curve of her mouth. What had started as a cautious seduction had become wild and reckless, as he tightened his hold on her while her arms travelled around his nape, fingers shoved firmly into his hair. There were teeth involved, she was sure of it. The unmistakable coppery tang of blood was now thrown in the mix, and she actually enjoyed the slight pain when Gabriel bit down on her bottom lip experimentally, as she panted for breath. She had no idea where Claire began and Gabriel ended, not when she was doing the same to him -- biting, causing a deep growl to erupt from his throat.
When they finally parted for air, neither one was able to speak. Claire leaned breathlessly into Gabriel, sucking blood from her lip – his blood and hers combined, tonguing the soft tissue from where Gabriel bit her. Suddenly, Gabriel froze beneath her.
He froze at the same time when the spot where her bottom lip and gum met healed, leaving not a familiar feeling of soreness – instead she felt nothing, as if Gabriel had not bitten her at all.
"Claire."
"Gabriel."
They both uttered each other's names simultaneously, before Claire realized that he was looking at her strangely – as if he had never seen her before, as if she was different. "What just happened?" she asked him in a bare whisper, not referring to the kiss but something else entirely.
Something inexplicable.
"If you should know," he began, "I'm not wearing contact lenses, yet my vision has never been clearer than this."
"What...are you talking about?"
He scrambled for a penknife from the top of her desk and nervously shoved it into Claire's hand, holding his palm up to her. "Cut me. Please do not ask questions. Just, please, cut across my palm with this knife. It could get messy, but it is one way to make sure."
Claire looked at Gabriel incredulously before placing the sharp edge of the knife on Gabriel's flesh, teasing the soft spot with the tip before slashing across his palm in one swift motion. His skin sliced open, blood rushed madly from the wound. Claire pulled away in panic, the knife instantly forgotten. Gabriel gasped in pain, only to watch the wound close as fast as Claire had cut him, leaving no mark whatsoever. Only dried blood stained Gabriel's palm, causing Claire to cover her mouth in shock, eyes widened as she reached out to touch Gabriel's unscathed hand.
"I have every reason to believe that you are able to heal in this nature, too," he held up his bloodied hand. "Rapid cellular regeneration," he lamented, after a moment of a haunting hesitance.
Hazily, as if in a trance, Claire picked up the penknife she had used to cut Gabriel and did the same to her wrist. Deeply, quickly with its sharp blade. Gabriel leapt towards her when blood spurted from a torn artery, before the bleeding stopped and the skin was patched up to normal. Unscathed. "What the hell is going on?" she asked, her breaths coming up shorter with every second. "What the hell, is going on???"
"He was right," Gabriel fell down to his knees, head hung low as he rubbed his forehead, inadvertently transferring the blood from his palm to his face.
"Who, Gabriel? Who was right about what?"
"Dr. Suresh," Gabriel spoke vacantly, his eyes clouded with disbelief.
Claire's knees felt weak, she toppled to the ground on all fours and crept towards Gabriel. "Mohinder Suresh?"
"No," he denied tersely. "His father. Chandra Suresh. A geneticist."
As startling as this revelation was laid wide open before her, her cell phone suddenly rang and filled the unnerving quietness. She flinched from the sound, her hands shivered as she pressed the accept button. It was Peter.
"Peter?"
"Claire. I've got something to tell you. Please don't freak out."
"Huh?"
"Look outside the window."
She did.
Gabriel did, too.
The phone slipped from her hand as soon as she saw Peter.
He was flying.
--
----
--------
Had he not applied for a job at MIT, had he not moved to Massachusetts, had he stayed in New York, Gabriel Gray would have met Chandra Suresh. According to his mother, the good doctor had came all the way from Chennai to find him, only to be confronted with the news that he had embarked on a new life, in a new place.
And that had been that, until one month later.
The elder Suresh had called him from New York, asking if Gabriel was interested to partake in a research he was conducting. A simple invitation then progressed into cerebral discussions about evolution and the mysteries of the human DNA. Gabriel had never experienced so much intellectual enjoyment. The idea of being part of a genetic drift that could potentially produce a new breed of humans with abilities seemed farfetched...but a design he was still able to entertain. Despite his many affirmations to Dr. Suresh that he had never demonstrated signs of having special abilities, the doctor insisted that they should meet anyway.
The anticipated visit by Dr Chandra Suresh never came. Instead, Gabriel was unexpectedly greeted by another Dr. Suresh in his office a fortnight later, telling him that Chandra Suresh had been murdered in a cab.
Robbed of his belongings, robbed of his life.
Dr. Mohinder Suresh was the elder doctor's son, whose unfinished research had brought him across the seas, to find the last person who had been in contact with his father -- whom decidedly would be Gabriel Gray, originally from Queens, New York; now a Principal Research Scientist at MIT, Cambridge, Massachusetts.
Thus were the events that had culminated in Mohinder's decision to stay in the States and work at MIT, before he became known as the only person who could maintain a non-work-related conversation with Gabriel for more than 15 minutes.
Chandra Suresh's research was abandoned in its entirety. Mohinder was a sceptic, and Gabriel's supposed 'ability' never did manifest. Content with his life and his new job, the topic was never pursued again. The only farewell gift Gabriel had received from the late doctor was a book titled 'Activating Evolution', authored by the man himself. A sticky note with Gabriel's name and Massachusetts address was still attached to the front cover.
--
"Please tell me this is all a dream, that I'm not some freak..." Claire shook her head, as the three of them – Peter, Gabriel and herself sat in her living room, pondering the consequences of their newfound abilities. Chandra Suresh's book was laid open in the middle of the triangle, half forgotten in the wake of Gabriel's past history with the ill-fated doctor.
"It was in my dream. The only difference now is it has come true. And you're not a freak. Neither of us are," Peter replied almost acidly, as if he was still hesitant to accept this new fantasy-like reality. Gabriel could hear elation hidden somewhere in Peter's tone, nevertheless.
"You're a clairvoyant and you could fly at the same time?" she asked in astonishment.
"No, no. The flying I got from Nathan. I don't know about the dreaming."
"Nathan could fly?" Claire's breath shortened, before pressing her throbbing temples with two fingers from each hand.
"There is a strong familial connection here," Gabriel commented flatly. "It seemed that you can absorb other people's abilities and mimic them empathically," he said to Peter, who was caught between smiling and frowning when Gabriel started to speak. "Therefore," Gabriel inferred, "the precognitive dreaming must also come from a source close to you. Have you considered other family members to have precognitive dreaming? Your mother, perhaps?"
"No. No, I don't. I don't know," Peter blinked anxiously, before a quizzical expression formed on his face. "How do you know so much anyway?"
Gabriel shrugged. "I didn't know anything until just now. I was merely postulating from the current information at hand."
"You could heal!" Claire said to Gabriel eagerly, as if this was the only positive news she could handle – because they shared the same ability. "Rapid cellular regeneration," she pointed to the chapter title on a dog-eared page of Suresh's book. "Like me."
"No. It's different, I --," he frowned, "I couldn't heal at first. You could. I mean, I understand how things work, remember? I...understand how it works. How you healed. I merely...replicated the ability. An intuitive aptitude, if you like."
"So you're like Peter, then. Except that you absorbed and mimicked my ability instead."
"Not...quite," Gabriel mused. "Peter doesn't have to be intuitive. He only has to remember; to feel empathy... he's an empath. It was more complicated for me because," he paused in reservation, "I felt it first, without any understanding of what it really was. But the need to understand had consumed me. Begets me to have this uncanny urge to slice your head open with a surgical scalpel and probe every sulcus and gyrus of your brain, simply to enhance my comprehension. An urge which, if physically conducted, could theoretically break all ethical and law principles," he added disturbingly.
Claire gave Gabriel a horror-stricken-look. The reaction was logical, Gabriel thought, especially after the vividly detailed descriptions of his inhumane intentions. But he still had to set the record straight, to tell her that he would never let himself hurt her. Not one scratch. Never.
Remorsefully, he shut his eyes and shrugged. "But," he entreated, "The hunger dissipated. A nanosecond after the disconcerting thought had reached me, it went away. It must be due to...oh," he groaned uncomfortably when realization hit him.
"Due to what?" Claire asked with that bold, determined tone he knew so well.
"Let's just say that I have experienced an intense emotion. For you," he inhaled deeply. "Which aided my comprehension of your ability, somehow. Without any need for encephalectomy, thank God. And if my hypothesis is correct," he stared at Peter, who was now worried about the safety of his cranium than anything else, "I could now..." Gabriel trailed off and stood up...
...levitated...
...before succumbing to the powers of gravity, touching the ground beneath his feet.
"...fly."
--
The general consensus was to find Mohinder and tell him that his father had been right all along.
It didn't take long for Gabriel to wait until the younger Suresh pick up his phone and greeted him with a British accented, "Hello."
It didn't take long for Mohinder to quickly point out that Gabriel was crazy.
It didn't take long for Gabriel to convince Mohinder otherwise. Gabriel was already knocking on Mohinder's apartment door by the time he concluded a lengthy explanation of why his father's research was a dead end. The sight that greeted him when he opened the door was enough as Gabriel's winning rebuttal.
--
Peter flew back to New York that night. And to think that he flew all the way to Cambridge, all 185 miles of it, just to tell Claire that he could...fly.
A sacrifice well worth making, nonetheless, because at least he knew he wasn't alone. Nathan may not wish to accept who they were and what they were becoming, but Peter had every reason to persuade him otherwise; convince him that this was more than a freakishly superhuman power.
He had dreamed of this; this bizarre family affair.
He had dreamed of this; of Claire and Gabriel, of the profound connection they shared with one another.
He had dreamed of this, and it was slowly coming true.
Gabriel and Claire found themselves sitting on the roof of Gabriel's building, looking up at the stars, trying to make sense of what just happened. "What a day," Claire dramatically sniffed.
"A rhetorical question," Gabriel glanced at Claire amusedly, "I wouldn't know how to answer that."
"I woke up this morning thinking, what interesting things would I do with you on a beautiful Saturday like this. Slicing up our wrists in front of Dr. Suresh definitely wasn't one of them. Seeing Peter fly was obviously out of the picture," she fumed confoundedly.
"I suppose taking turns to jump off from buildings with me was not in your schedule either," he replied, before shaking his head. "No, let me rephrase that. Taking turns to jump off from 20-feet tall buildings, breaking some bones, twisting some joints, and fracturing some skulls before healing ourselves back to normal, all in less than a minute," he bit his bottom lip reservedly.
"Nope. Definitely not written in my schedule," Claire shook her head and sighed. "Especially when you put it that way," she shut her eyes tightly. "God, I'm a freak," she grimaced, in a stab to stop herself from shedding useless tears. Gabriel progressed to wrap a comforting arm around her, resting his chin on her head. "If you are a freak as you have so proclaimed, then Peter and I theoretically will be twice a freak because of the extra things we can do."
That earned a muffled giggle from Claire. "Can you believe it? The political Petrelli family has become a family of freaks. Although actually I kind of figured that out a long time ago," she huffed cynically.
"You are not a freak. We are not freaks. Evolved superhumans, perhaps, but not freaks. We do not have pointed ears or visible feathery wings growing behind our backs. No extra tentacles, no retractable claws..." he murmured distractedly, shivering slightly from the sudden chill of the air.
"You may not realize this, Gabriel, but you know just the right things to say to make me feel better," Claire buried her face onto his chest. He could feel her smile against him as he ran his fingers along her soft hair, combing it back from where the autumn winds had it tousled. "So, Mohinder took our DNA samples, going to run some tests, compare the results against his father's formula...then what?" Anxiety was evident in her voice.
"Do you remember Chandra Suresh's name list of humans with potential abilities? If our test results come out positive, which I considerably believe it will, consequently we can track down others who are similar to us," he explained. "I shall assist Mohinder with laboratory work."
Claire pulled away only to stare boldly into his eyes. "We're expanding the list, aren't we?"
"Yes," Gabriel agreed. "Now it is up to Peter to find...these men...Brian Davis and Isaac Mendez in New York, and we shall confirm if Chandra Suresh's list is accurate," Gabriel commented. "Were you disappointed that your name wasn't in the list? Or Peter's? Or Nathan's, for that matter?"
Claire touched her wrist where a scar should have formed, rubbing the spot absentmindedly. "I don't know. Should I be thrilled? Should I be disappointed? Now's really the time that I wish I have your logic, you know? So I don't get drowned in a sea of conflicted emotions?" she breathed, before exhaling soundly. "All I'm thinking now is, 'is this real?' I mean, those people in the list. Who are they? What other things can they do? Are they like you, or me, or a homeless man on the street?"
Gabriel neared her and took her hand gingerly in his, before pressing his lips to her wrist. "You may not have my logic. But you have me. It shall be our enterprise to find out who the people in the list are. They worth more than just names, of that I am certain. Well," he blinked, "At least you are already well acquainted with one of them," he knitted his brows together in baited breath, waiting for her response.
She laughed heartily. Finally. And about time, too. "Is that your attempt to make a joke?"
"Not an attempt to make a joke. Merely stating a fact," Gabriel pursed his lips impishly. "My name is in the list," he reminded her.
"I know," she said, turning his hand to look at his palm where he had cut himself. "And to think that you knew something all along, but couldn't do anything about it because you weren't given the chance," she sighed. "What do you think would have happened if you had stayed in New York?"
He tried not to think about Claire drawing number eights on his palm, or whatever haptic patterns she was tracing with her forefinger. Instead, Gabriel concentrated hard to give her a plausible answer. "I would have worked in a sad watch shop somewhere in Brooklyn," he began, which incited a chuckle from Claire. "Don't stop, tell me," she eyed him amusingly. "Hypothetically, watch shop. Go on..."
"Yes, Claire, a watch shop," he narrowed his eyes, giving her a failed angry look. "The late Dr. Suresh, bless his soul, would have found me. We would have an interesting discussion about..."
"Watches," Claire finished for him, which earned her another faux-annoyed glance.
"Thank you, Claire," he rolled his eyes, "but I am not that predictable. Rather, we would have a long and winded discussion about evolution and DNA and...brains, perhaps..?"
Claire cleared her throat at 'brains', because Gabriel had specifically said something involving surgical scalpels and her brain earlier today. Gabriel must have noticed this, because he took the opportunity to squeeze her hand and said, "Please do not get offended by my frank confession this morning. Trust me I would never do something so unethical. Although encephalectomy is undoubtedly a fascinating procedure--,"
"Gabriel!"
"Sorry. Where were we? Oh. Discussions about brains. He would probably make me a test subject for his research. Undergo an endless set of experiments...only to endure a countless set of negative results. And hypothetically I would be devastated."
"He'd probably call you 'Patient Zero' to make you sound posh," Claire chipped in, which produced a poorly stifled chuckle from Gabriel. "Hold on," she stilled, "Why would the results turn out negative?"
"Well," he pushed the bridge of his nose where his glasses would have been, "You and I have not met in this hypothetical situation. A watchmaker from Queens and a socialite from Manhattan? The probability of us having a chance encounter in New York would be less than 0.1%."
Statistics. It was something Claire could happily live without.
"In addition, I do not believe that I would have a much better understanding of my ability had you not appeared in my life," Gabriel perorated.
"There are always other people with abilities that you can make friends with. People in the list. Brian Davis. Isaac Mendez," she pointed out unwittingly.
"You are right. Regrettably, neither Isaac Mendez nor Brian Davis is Claire Petrelli," he rubbed his tired eyes. "You have no idea how hard it is for me to make friends with even one person. Even if I do meet someone with abilities, I may not have the patience to endure a forced friendship just to understand that I need to...understand. I may end up performing illegal encephalectomy on an innocent subject, committing manslaughter instead. An act which I strongly do not condone, by the way," he tipped his head to one side, completely contemplative about the matter.
Claire looked at him disapprovingly. "For a beautiful mind, you're very morbid, you know that?"
"I might have inherited that trait from my biological father. He used to run a taxidermy business in New Jersey," he countered back, almost flippantly. "Also, serial killers are usually people with high IQs."
"Taxider—uh, okay," Claire raised a brow, shaking off an image of a stuffed Mr. Muggles. Worse, a stuffed Harold. "You are seriously telling me that you would be a brain-poking serial killer if you had stayed in New York?" she asked, bemused.
"A brain-poking superpowered serial killer," Gabriel's gaze shifted comically. That is indeed the worst-case-scenario, yes. But then again maybe I have watched too many slasher films."
"Hmm," Claire crossed her arms. "If you were a serial killer who steals powers from other evolved superhumans, would you come for me eventually? Hypothetically speaking, of course."
"Would I come for you and steal your power?" Gabriel tried not to smile. "Oh, I definitely would," his eyelids lowered, his voice dipping to that dangerous territory Claire tried hard not to replay in her head each time before she went to bed. "You are the invincible girl. That statement speaks for itself," a slight curve etched upwards at the corners of his mouth. "But you would have an entire family backing you up. Peter, Nathan. Your grandmother. It is going to be an arduous task."
"Invincible girl, huh?" her eyes twinkled in the dimmed light.
"Yes, indeed you are. Hypothetically, I wouldn't kill you even if I wanted to. You can never die," Gabriel shrugged.
"And now I guess, neither can you," Claire interlaced their fingers together, letting the aching realization sink deep in her heart, mind and soul.
Gabriel swallowed nervously and took a deep breath. This was no longer a hypothetical situation. They were heading towards the plain truth, in plain sight. "Neither can I," he whispered in agreement. He knew that the next time Claire spoke, it would not be a theoretical question; the answer could no longer be imagined out from thin air.
This was their descent into reality now, falling faster than ever, praying to God that they won't crash and burn. Except that they would survive to tell the pain.
He could survive this.
"I knew there was something weird going on with me. I fall and bruise myself, and the doctors always say that I heal quicker than other kids my age. When I think about it, I don't think I've ever fallen sick. Never had one scratch on me," she deliberated pensively. "That day when I went to see you after your mom died, I swear I twisted my ankle when you tried pulling me back down," she confessed.
"I noticed," Gabriel squeaked quietly, his voice sounded strangely grouchy. "It was the day that I felt 'it'. Something was different about you, and it was transforming me as well...as if the process was accelerated in one day," he swallowed. "I could not understand it at first, but I knew what I saw. You're different. You're special," he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand; quivering. "Forgive me for bringing this up again, Claire, but --," he paused, as if saying the next few lines would be the most painful experience in his life. "That night in New York...it was the night that I craved to understand you. I was that close to knock you down and see into your head. But in a merciful instant I became scared of myself, of the monster I was about to become. Now I am ashamed for even allowing that evil thought to enter my mind, because I never meant to hurt you."
She should be scared of him, disgusted by his confession. But she knew better than that. This was the same man she had encountered on the staircase of his apartment building, the man who had returned her cell phone, the man whose door she had ranted at. An adorable man who owned a most adorable cat. His appearance may have been altered; with that bed hair and bedroom eyes, naked eyes unguarded from the glasses that he once wore -- but he was still the same Gabriel Gray inside.
"You won't be a murderer, Gabriel. Because you're not. And I've never been gladder to have you in my life." She ran her fingers along his stubbled jaw, causing him to lean into the tingly sensation, almost reluctantly. "You've now become an empath, like Peter. You said that you felt 'it'. What did you feel, exactly? What was the intense emotion that you felt for me?"
Her acceptance was what he truly needed, as if it was his step towards redemption from what his brutal thoughts of her. Claire's huge eyes were earnest. They were not teasing him, no. They were downright curious and demanding. And they were smiling at him warmly; telling him that his coming to Massachusetts had been a right decision, meeting her had been a brilliant decision, befriending her had been a splendid choice...
"It is not something I could explicate through words," he blurted out. Oh, the blasted coward that he was.
"I knew you would say that," she grinned endearingly. "But I suppose you could show me."
to be continued...
A/N #2: I guess all of you can see this coming already, didn't you? I've really got nothing else to comment about that, except that I'll leave it in your hands to judge. Also, lots and lots and lots of homage to the real show. LOTS OF THEM.
Plus, I'm sorry if the previous chapter seemed a little too rushed. I'll fix it when I've finished the whole fic, and revamp the whole thing again. Like...a redux. Yup.
And I'd like to point out that this is where the line between canon and fanon is blurred for me. I've fallen in too deep. HELP!
