It was 12:33 that night when someone pounded on Gabriel's door. Groaning, he dragged himself out from under the covers and sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing his face.
The pounding resumed, and he quietly swore. Who the hell wanted to see him this late? He pushed himself upright, dragged a T-shirt over his pajama bottoms, then stumbled to his door, flicking on the kitchen light as he went, and squinting at the sudden pain. Too bad rapid healing doesn't make that go easier, he thought bitterly. He unlocked the deadbolt, and peered into the dark hallway from behind the security chain. He froze.
"Gabriel," Claire said. "May I come in?"
He blinked down at her, his sleep-fogged mind slow to react.
"Please?" she asked. He briefly contemplated closing the door and leaving her in the hallway.
"Yeah," he finally ground out. "Hold on." He shut the door and reached for the security chain, but didn't undo it immediately. He sighed. Might as well get it over quickly. He slipped the chain out of its track, then opened the door wide, standing aside to let her in.
She stepped in hesitantly, her every movement seeming to beg for permission. He crossed his arms and leaned his shoulder against the doorframe. Her eyes flicked up to meet his, but flicked away hurriedly with what she saw. She nervously scuffed a shoe against the linoleum, and her fingers were busy picking at the threads in the cuffs of her sweater. The harsh light of the kitchen gave a curious, washed-out cast to her features.
She didn't seem eager to talk.
"Not that it's not nice to see you, Claire," he prompted as the silence dragged, "but why are you here? At--" he craned to see a clock, "--12:35 at night? Don't you have classes or something in the morning?"
"I woke you up, didn't I," she said fretfully.
"Uh, yeah, you did," he said, annoyed. Not that he actually had been sleeping. Restfully, anyway. But she had made it clear she wanted nothing to do with him, and this was just digging the knife in deeper. Digging it deeper and twisting. The least she could do was feel guilty for waking him up.
The silence pressed down again, unrelenting, until finally she broke. "I'm sorry, Gabriel," she burst out. "I didn't intend to hurt you, and I'm sorry."
Gabriel paused to absorb her words, then snorted in derision. "Forgive me for finding that amusing," he said, one corner of his mouth ticking up humorlessly.
Claire went stock still at that response, the uncertainty rippling out from her through the air. He elaborated, smile fading. "You made it pretty damn clear that you didn't want to see me anymore Claire," he said, "and it hurt like hell. So forgive me for finding your apology amusing, and somewhat inadequate."
"I--" she cut herself off, and looked down at her shoes. "I don't know what you want me to say."
"Let's start with why."
She sighed heavily. "I'm drawn to you, Gabriel," she said. "In a way I can't really seem to resist. I was scared of it. And of you."
Gabriel felt a surge of guilt, but quashed it. He needed to know. He needed to know why she had acted the way she did--no matter how much it hurt her to pry it out. "How delightfully cliché," he said viciously. "But that's not all of it, is it."
A spark of anger flickered in her eyes at that, and she reared her head to glare at him--but it died a quick death, her features returning to their docile misery. "No," she whispered. He raised an eyebrow, challenging.
"All my long life I've been alone," she said haltingly against his hard stare. "I surrounded myself with people, because when the loneliness became too much I couldn't help it. I was drawn to them, despite the knowledge that they would die and I would not, and that left me isolated.
"Then I met you, and your pull is so far beyond any other, it's like destiny. You are handsome, and sweet, and kind, you are perfect--but then you aren't. You are a killer." The bubble of hope that had been building in Gabriel's chest punctured, and the glower that had faded at her words returned full-force.
"I told you Claire, I can't help--"
"And I can't help being afraid of it," she interrupted. "Every time you lose control, or let slip some aspect of your modus operandi, it scares me."
Gabriel straightened up, dropping his arms to the side. "So, what are you saying?" he asked, half-afraid to hear her answer. "Why come here in the middle of the night and give me that weak apology if you're terrified of me?"
Claire gazed resolutely into his eyes. "Because I love you," she said softly. "Somewhere between the awkward pauses and the attempts on my life, I fell in love with you."
Gabriel's heart staggered and lost the beat. "That doesn't make any sense," he choked out.
"No, it doesn't," Claire murmured, "but it's true."
Gabriel turned away from what she was offering, hardening his heart against it. "And the fact I won't die has absolutely nothing to do with it," he said spitefully.
"Of course it does," Claire snapped. "How could it not? I can't truly love, knowing that my partner will die in a few short years."
"Then I'm just a convenient hunk of meat, is that it? So long as it won't rot away, Claire Bennet will fall in love with it!"
She slapped him, throwing all her tiny weight into it. Gabriel's head snapped to the side, a red mark already forming on his pale skin.
"How dare you," she whispered angrily, tears forming in her eyes. "How dare you belittle me that way."
Gabriel's cheek burned in the shape of her palm. His stomach clenched with a familiar nausea, and he tasted the bitter tang of his blood as he bit the inside of his cheek. In an instant he was five years old again, weak and defenseless. I should have known, he whispered to himself as he stared at the floor, mind whirling. I should have known she wasn't any different.
Suddenly his anger roared into life, tearing through his veins and stiffening his spine. No one should have this power over him. He would not cower, he would not submit. His nostrils flared as his breathing accelerated, and his fingers curled into fists by his sides. He trembled against the overwhelming desire to lash out at his tormentor.
The expected second strike never fell. Slowly he raised his head, eyes blazing. He beheld Claire, frozen, one hand fisted against her mouth and the other pressing against her stomach. Her eyes were wide and horror-filled.
"I-I... I'm... s-sorry," she stuttered out, her words muffled against her fingers. She tentatively reached toward his face with her other hand, but Gabriel wasn't that stupid. He went rigid, reflexively wrenching back from her touch, and knocked her arm away.
Claire gasped at the blow, cradling her bruised arm against her chest, but she didn't protest, or condemn, or even get angry. Her arm healed quickly enough, and she sighed, dropping her hands. She glanced up at him, a look Gabriel couldn't read ghosting across her eyes, then turned away, sliding down the wall to sit propped up next to the door. She stared off into the distance, her eyes hollow. "What a pair we make," she said simply.
Gabriel looked down at her, wary and suddenly uncertain, his defensive anger bleeding away in the face of her non-retalliation. Slowly, cautiously, he moved to the wall dividing the kitchen from the living room and sank down it, mirroring Claire's position on the perpendicular plane. His gaze never left her, keeping her in his sights. "What do you mean?" he finally asked, voice taut.
She looked at him, eyes gentle and pain-filled. "We terrify each other," she said. "We bring out our darkest demons." She looked away to regard the far wall once more.
Gabriel looked down at his hands, white-knuckled around his knees. "I don't bring out yours," he said softly.
It was Claire's turn to snort derisively, and Gabriel's head jerked up to look over at her, suspicious once more. "Oh, Gabriel," she chuckled darkly. "You do more than you know. I've not always been fortunate," she said, "in my dealings with men. All they saw was a tiny girl, someone they could manipulate and cow into submission, which they were able to do simply because of the era in which I lived." She looked over at him. "I don't generally take well to being trivialized, or intimidated, or threatened," she finished. "I don't take well to it at all."
Gabriel read between the lines, and didn't like the conclusions he came to. "I don't trivialize you," he murmured desperately, half to himself.
"No, you don't," Claire smiled softly, picking up on his meaning. "And I don't slap you."
Gabriel nodded soberly. "Tonight never happened," he said, and the tension coiling through his body seeped out through the crack that together they had chipped. He sighed deeply and closed his eyes, and rested his head back against the wall. The ticking of a clock in the other room filled the quiet.
Presently, he heard the rustle of clothing breaking the hush, and the scrape of shoes against the floor. He stiffened when he sensed Claire near him. Opening his eyes, he watched as she settled herself down beside him, crossing her legs Indian-style. She didn't do anything, merely sat there, regarding him solemnly with those striking green eyes. Gabriel didn't know what to do. His heart was still tied in a knot, and his cheek still stung, but he didn't want her to go.
Finally she shifted and moved again, reaching toward his hands, still clamped around his knees. She froze when his fingers clenched, tacitly asking his permission. He tacitly gave it, forcing himself to unbend. She cautiously resumed her motion until his hand was folded gently in her own, their fingers loosely entwined. She stroked her thumb in small circles against his skin, soothing and apologizing. Ever-so-slowly, he leaned over to rest his head against her shoulder. Apology accepted. Sighing, Claire laid her head against his. He relaxed infinitesimally.
They sat like that for a minute, an eon. Eventually Gabriel lifted his head, and Claire followed suit, letting him sit upright. He could feel her eyes on him, but didn't look at her; instead he gazed off toward the cabinets across the kitchen. "I love you too," he said quietly. His cheeks heated, and he mentally sighed.
"Good," Claire murmured, lightly squeezing his hand. "I'm glad."
He turned toward her, about to speak, but Claire leaned in then, her face suddenly encompassing his field of vision, and brushed her lips against his, soft and light as dandelion fluff. Gabriel gasped involuntarily, and he was overwhelmed with her taste. Sweet, spicy, and slightly bitter, like horehound candy. Then she pulled away.
He stared at her. Her eyes were riddled with indecision and uncertainty, and... hope. Gabriel licked his lips, tasting her again, then came to a decision. He pulled his hand from where it tangled with hers on his knee and moved it to cup her cheek, his thumb caressing her skin. Closing her eyes, she leaned into his touch, her warm breath skittering across the inside of his wrist, and his heart sputtered to a stop. Then she opened her eyes, and it roared back into life, pounding to 90 miles an hour at what he saw in those green depths. She loves me, he thought, and the emotion rising in his chest overflowed to pour out furious tingles under his skin.
Surrendering to instinct, he kissed her, the press of her lips against his shorting circuits and blowing fuses throughout his body. Then her lips parted, and when the tips of their tongues touched, it ignited a shock of pleasure that spiraled down his sensitized nerves to curl at the base of his spine. He slid his hand to the back of her head, entwining his fingers in her hair, and swallowed her moan.
Claire suddenly scrabbled up from her seated position to straddle his lap. She hovered above him, taking his face between her hands, and gazed down at him, pupils wide and dark. He stared back up at her, wide-eyed and wanting, drinking in her ruffled hair and swollen lips. His hands tentatively crept up to stroke her hips, then slid higher, to slip under her sweater. She pressed into his touch, throwing back her head and sighing deeply as his fingers worked small circles into the muscles of her back. He eyed her exposed throat, and impulsively leaned forward to kiss the golden skin, nipping and sucking his way up to the junction of her jaw. She moaned, long and low, and he could feel the vibrations of it against his lips. She rolled up against him, bending her head forward to nip at his ear and run her tongue along the outer edge.
His stomach tightened at the surge of arousal that shot straight to his groin, and he knocked his head back into the wall. He wanted, no, he needed, to feel every inch of her against him, pressing as close as possible, skin against skin. Without warning, Claire ground her hips down onto his, and every thought fled his mind at the crushing pleasure that flared through his body. He groaned, curling forward to bury his face in her chest as he involuntarily thrust up against her, fingers digging into her back. She trailed her own fingers up his arms, raising goosebumps in their wake, and Gabriel whimpered, trembling with sensation.
"Claire?" he asked, voice rough.
"Yes?" she breathed in response.
"Can we go to the bedroom?"
She laughed huskily. "Of course." She nudged his head up with a finger under his chin, and, seeing the helpless lust in his eyes, kissed him deeply, wantonly. He made an inarticulate sound against her mouth, drowning in the bittersweet taste of her.
Suddenly she lifted off him, and he gave a soft cry of protest, arching up and clutching at her hips. She gently pried his fingers away, but didn't let go of his hands. She knelt before him, shaking out her hair as she caught her breath. He sat dumbly, transfixed at the sight. Then she reached down for his hand to help him up. He got up awkwardly, his legs turned to jelly.
"Let's go to the bedroom," she whispered, then turned and led the way.
***
Elle turned away from the monitors. She didn't need to invade their privacy tonight anymore than she already had. Noah Bennet, however, hunched next to her in the cramped cargo space of the van, watched intently.
"That was unexpected," he said.
"What, that her underwear managed to get caught on the top shelf, or that she declared her love for a killer and now they're having raunchy sex?" Elle asked, peeved.
Bennet snorted, eyes still focused on the screens. "Well, it looks as though we no longer have to monitor Mr. Gray," was all he said.
Elle swung around to stare at him, rocking the van. "You mean we're just going to leave him alone? What about all that 'singing whale' stuff you were talking about?"
"Try not to be stupid Elle; it's unbecoming. Gabriel and Ms. Bennet have kindly given us all we need to know about how his power works; all that's left is to take them both in for questioning."
"That was this morning!" she hissed. "You had plenty of time to snatch them before now, why wait?"
"I was curious what she would do," Bennet replied.
Elle goggled at him. "That is creepy," she said, enunciating each word.
Bennet shrugged. "It's better than television."
Elle shuddered. "So. Plan of action for bagging and tagging," she nudged, raising her voice over the escalating volume of the sounds coming from the speakers.
Bennet glanced at her, then turned to flick off the feeds before focusing all his freaky intensity onto her. "You're sure about the landlady?" he asked.
"Yeah," Elle said, "She's meeting with a group of friends to play bridge tomorrow, I asked. It'll last several hours."
"Good. And we know our targets' schedules, so," he said, settling himself in to plot, "this is what we'll do."
