Disclaimer: Nope.
Section Two: Chapter Five
PART ONE
It happens gradually. For the first few weeks Claire will come back from a run or wake up in the morning, and there Gabriel will be on her porch or in her kitchen waiting for her. He doesn't stay for very long, usually just about 15 to 20 minutes at a stretch. They don't really talk much about anything important, not at first anyway. When they do speak it's sporadic pieces of information that for the most part are neutral topics. Claire learns that Gabriel is living in Seattle and working at an antique store, and when he inquires about the color of her hair Claire tells him that she was tired of being a blonde. Gabriel informs her that he hasn't truly required glasses since he inavertadly acquired her power after Claire mentioned that she never sees him wearing them anymore, and Claire tells him that she is sick of the sound of rain.
As the weeks turn into months Gabriel's arrivals become more frequent. In addition to showing up in the mornings or evenings, he also begins to come over at irregular time intervals. One day he will come over around noon, then the next day it's 2:30 in the afternoon, and then 5:00 in the morning. Now, four months into this compromise thing they've got going on Gabriel is remaining longer, up to an hour most days. They also graduate to more serious topics, Noah for one. It's really Gabriel who brings Noah up, at least to begin with.
"He liked stuffed hippos." Gabriel says out of the blue one evening, his voice sounding chocked as he gets down onto the floor to help her pick up the dark blue pieces of a shattered glass.
Claire looks at him blankly, not having figured out what stuffed animals have to do with…. well anything.
"Noah, our son. He liked stuffed hippos." Gabriel supplies slowly, as if she is a bit slow on the mental front.
"Oh." Claire says, fiddling determinedly with the smooth shards of razor sharp cobalt in her hands. Claire tries to tell herself that she doesn't care, that it doesn't matter weather Noah liked hippos or dogs, if he liked to have books read to him, or if his favorite game was hide and seek. But then an image of Noah sitting on the floor in those Spiderman pajamas, smiling and laughing as he makes a large gray hippo crawl across the carpet appears in her minds eye. At the image that ache that she thought had disappeared over a year ago, that ache that felt as if her heart was cracking down the middle rises up once again.
"W-what else? I… I mean… what other things did he like?" Claire asks haltingly after a few silent seconds, her voice soft in an attempt to conceal the tears that are blocking her airway.
And so the topic of Noah continues to work it's way into their daily conversations. Sometimes it is random bits of information offered up by Gabriel, such as Noah's first word was "bird", unlike most small children he had never been afraid of the dark, and that he loved to play with trains. Other times Claire will hesitantly request specific items of information, such as why did Gabriel give him the name of a man whom he had hated, what had their son's personality been like, and which animal had he liked best. Through this method Claire learns that Noah's favorite animal had been green lizards, he had been a bright, straightforward, kind, inquisitive, brave, and patient child with a relatively rare but an all-around bad temper, and that Gabriel gave him the name he did because "I wanted him to have a piece of his mother."
One day Gabriel brings a photo album with him, the large book containing hundreds of photos having been stored in another location prior to Gabriel's explosion. Claire tries not to, but she can't prevent herself from eargly grabbing the book, her eyes devouring the pitchers. Claire stares at the images of Noah that his father had captured. Images of a small toddler holding onto a coffee table or chair leg as he learns to walk, an expression a great conceration upon his face. A two year old Noah sitting in the bathtub, rubber ducks and toy boats floating around him as he smiles a gap toothed grin at the camera, a pile of bubbles adorning his head. Noah running after a large green ball in the backyard and laying inside of a fort made out of blankets and couch cushions. Noah on his birthdays, Christmas, and Easter, staring in wide eyed amazement at his birthday cake or the tree covered in silver tinsel, plastic thread covered bulbs, and twinkling lights. Noah on his first day of school, smiling nervously at the camera as he holds onto the straps of his blue backpack.
Then there are the images of both Gabriel and Noah, taken presumably by Peter or some willing passerby. Gabriel holding an eight month old Noah on his shoulders, his face turned to smile at his son, who apparently thinks it's great fun to hit the top of his father's head. Father and son sleeping on a black faukes leather couch, Gabriel's glasses askew as he lays on his side, one arm underneath his head and the other holding his four year old son against his chest, who in turn is clutching a fuzzy brown bear. They are at a park, sitting in the mouth of a rainbow slide and eating ice cream cones, Noah with smears of vanilla across his face as he takes Gabriel's strawberry cone out of his hand, persumdly to trade. They are at a public swimming pool, Noah standing on the edge of the pool wearing yellow floaties on his arms as he looks down nervously at his father, who is standing in water up to his waist, arms held out as he smiles encourgely at his son.
Often Claire will look at the images at night, sitting on her urine stained couch with the lamp beside her shining brightly. That way, on the days that Gabriel looks at the images with her, he either won't see her cry at all or he will witness just a few tears, as opposed to the full body sobs that will come upon her as she looks at the images of her child that she never knew.
PART TWO
Their first truly meaningful dissucion occurs two weeks after she receives the photo album.
Claire is sitting on a large amethyst blanket that's spread out on the grass, paging through the album as she waits for Gabriel to arrive. As she does so an image catches her eye, one of Noah and Gabriel laying in the grass, playing with a tiny Pomeranian puppy. The caption underneath, written in Gabriel's neat cursive reads: Noah, Gabriel, and Mr. Muggles.
She frowns down at the photograph, puzzled. It's not that they had owned a dog that she finds odd, it's that the name and the breed of the animal is exactly the same as the award winning show dog that had once belonged to her mom.
Hearing footsteps Claire looks up, surprised to see Gabriel walking toward her, not having heard his motorcycle.
"Gabriel, why did you have a dog called Mr. Muggles?"
By the way that Gabriel halts in his progression, his eyes flashing downward as he swallows heavily Claire knows that she has brought up a subject that is more painful then most of what they have discussed. After a few moments Gabriel resumes making his way over, sitting down on the far corner of the blanket. He crosses his legs beneath him and stares at his hands, rubbing the pad of his thumb over the opposite knuckle, clearly contemplating his words before he utters them. The minutes stretch on, the silence weighing heavily between them in a way that it had never had before, like a clear two ton brick was separating them. When the ten minute mark passes Claire shifts her weight from one side to the other, feeling guiltily and stupid for bringing up a subject that was clearly too painful for Gabriel to discuss.
"Noah was able to get vague impressions of things, things from the past and the future." Gabriel says almost as Claire is about to bring up another topic, his voice low and strained.
Claire leans forward, forgetting all about her pervious discomfort in the wake of this revelation regarding Noah.
Gabriel breathes through his nose sharply, blinking rapidly before continuing. "His power wasn't like your grandmother's or my Clairsentience. He didn't dream the future or require an object to touch, the impressions just sort of came to him… as if a ghost would whisper them in his ear."
Gabriel laughs shakily, the brief sound loaded with pain. "We got that dog because one day Noah came up to me, as serious as could be, and said…. "Daddy, we need to get a Mr. Muggles. Our house used to have a fluffy, yappy one, but now it doesn't and we need to fix it." '
Claire feels dread rising in her as the implications make themselves known. If Noah had somehow known that, what else had he predicted?
Gabriel's face is turned away from her, still staring at his hands, but even so Claire knows that he is crying. She can tell by the slight tremor in his shoulders and the way that his voice breaks as he speaks of his son. Claire knows because of the tears she can see falling onto his hands and wrists, and by the short and ragged breaths she can hear forcing their way out of his chest.
"I should have known that something was going to happen. A week before he…. you… I had him tucked into bed when he came into my room two hours latter carrying Mr. Muggles. He told me that he and Mr. Muggles couldn't sleep because "the lady who can make herself better like you is going to come with two scary people."He says, his voice filling with anger and self blame.
"I thought he was just having a bad dream, because what were the odds of you coming there? I should've paid more attention, put more faith in his power, but by the morning of… i'd forgotten… and then it was too late." Gabriel says, bitterness and anger leaking through the grief.
Claire feels her heart plummet into her stomach as her vision turns blurry with unshed tears. Noah had told him, and Gabriel hadn't…. oh God!
For the first time since he sat down Gabriel looks at her, and Claire sees his eyes, so lost and filled with so much pain that Claire doesn't know how he is managing to prevent himself from exploding again.
"So, do you see now, Claire? Noah's death is my fault." He says earnestly.
"No." Claire whispers, knowing that Gabriel has not heard her.
"He told me you were coming and I ignored him. I told him that there was nothing to be scared of, because I was always going to be there to protect him."
As he was speaking, Gabriel's voice had taken on a new emotion, one that Claire recognized, even if she didn't have a name for it. It was the same emotion that made her wonder how it would feel to sink to the bottom of a pool, and stand listlessly in the rain, that made her dye her hair dark and run away from everything she had ever known. It was an emotion that Claire hated, but couldn't seem to get rid of. An emotion that she could feel destroying her as utterly as fire destroys everything in it's path, one that hurts and bleeds even though it should have healed a long time ago.
Claire reaches forward and grips Gabriel's forearm, her hand steady as she does so, for the first time in two years the fear and revulsion she normally feels toward touch is absent. Claire doesn't notice this remarkable occurrence, she only knows that Gabriel cannot have that emotion within him, because if he does it will consume him more completely then his Hunger ever could. It will abolish her former friend, just as she herself has been abolished. His emotions will become encased in ice, the frozen wasteland that was once the most beautiful soul she had ever seen will grow more and more numb, until he truly is the heartless, cold blooded serial killer so many assume he is.
"Gabriel, his death wasn't your fault. You made a mistake, that's all. That's the only thing you did wrong." Claire says firmly, ignoring the confused expression Gabriel sends her. Obviously he had been expecting her to agree with him, to place the blame on his shoulders just as he himself had been doing for eight months. Well, Claire wasn't about to let that happen.
"You did protect Noah. You kept him safe his entire life, from your Hunger and Pinehurst.If anyone is to blame it's me. You said it yourself; I'm the one who threatened him and wouldn't have thought twice about killing him." Claire remarks, hearing the self disgust she can feel inside her spilling into her voice.
As she recalls that day, the voices and the faces coming to her in perfect clarity, she can't prevent the tears from falling from her eyes. The tears fall, and more replace them, and more replace those until the floodgates open and she is crying as she has only ever cried alone.
"I'm so sorry, Gabriel. I swear I had no idea who Noah was when we went after Peter. If you want to blame someone, blame me. Go on. Hit me, strangle me, leave me, hurt me, do whatever you need to."
Out of the corner of her eye Claire sees Gabriel reaching for her and she automatically flinches away, the memory of an unseen hand holding her arm in place as her fingers are chopped off flashing through her mind. At her reaction Gabriel imeadtly pulls his hand back, his face tightening as he sees the fear in her eyes that Claire knows he thinks he had put there.
As Gabriel hears the self disgust in the voice of the woman beside him, he wants to eradicate it from her, from the one person involved in Noah's death who had absolutely no reason to experience it.
When Gabriel witnesses the evidence of pain, remorse and grief that matches his own upon the face the Pinehurst agent that he once knew inside and out, he wants to destroy Peter for aiding in it's presence... and yet at the same time he doesn't know weather he would be able to bring himself to take the life of his brother. He wishes Nathan Petteril was still alive, if only so he could elimate him for forcing Claire into a society where she had no choice but to shut down her emotions and morals when it came taking the lives of others.
As both Sylar and Gabriel see the intense, fearful reaction to their touch from the only person whom they had sworn would never have a single reason to fear it, they experience shame and anger. They feel shame for the rape, for not being able to stop even when her eyes were begging them to, when they could see Claire withering under their touch, hear her moans and cries of pleasure, feel her hot wetness gripping them, and all they could think was, Please, god. Not like this. They feel anger at themselves for taking physical pleasure in the act of their violation, for not being strong enough to prevent themselves from cutting her stomach and breasts, and rage at Eric Doyle for forcing them.
They wish that Claire was not afraid, because it cuts them when she jerks away, her eyes widening in fear, as if she is afraid that she will be struck with a savage blow to the face.Sylar wants Claire to lean into his touch, to welcome his arm around her waist or his hand stroking her hair.Gabriel wants Claire to touch him as she had before; her hand willingly holding onto his own or how she used to lay her head in his lap, complete and utter trust in every line of her body and a glowing light in her eyes.
But as of right now, neither is possible. They know that it will take time, but they are willing to wait however long they need to for Claire to touch them like that again, until she does not fear their touch and they witness that look in her eyes and the trust in her body once more.
Unaware of Gabriel's thoughts Claire watches as his face flickers through an array of emotions, all of them passing from his features far to quickly for her to identify them. When Gabriel opens his mouth Claire expects him to comply, for his words to hurt her more then anything Nathan could ever have said, because this time Claire will know them to be true.To her surprise the tone that issues from his mouth is not harsh and damaging, but gentle and soothing.
"No, Claire. I can't hurt you because I don't blame you, not anymore. I know what Peter did to you the night Noah was born, how he manupitled you all those years into thinking your son was dead." Gabriel says as he lays his hands flat against the blanket, his pale skin standing out against the dark purple fabric.
He doesn't blame me? But I –
Claire's inner monaugle is cut short as Gabriel frowns severely, as if he can guess the nature of her thoughts and doesn't approve in the least.
"When we talk about Noah, when we look at those pitchers… I see the pain and guilt in your eyes. You smile or become sad and I can see how much you love him, even if you didn't know him." Gabriel counties, not noticing that the tears have migrated to his voice, causing his words to come out strangled.Gabriel's attention is focusedinternally on the one across from him, his old partner with chocolate brown hair tucked behind her ears and who is biting her lip harshly as she stares at him, her Siamese blue eyes glimmering brightly.
"I forgive you for your role in Noah's death, because it wasn't you fault, Claire. You were betrayed, hurt, and lied to by someone that should never have done so, and I'm more sorry then I can ever say that I played a role in your suffering, however unknowingly."
At Gabriel's words Claire feels those knots inside of her loosen, just as they had once done with Elle. This time however, there is not merely a slight unraveling of the knots along the surface. It is as if dozens of knots scattered throughout the middle, bottom, and top are loosened strand by strand. As those knots unravel Claire gasps as she feels ten different levels of confusion, relief, anger, pain, grief, and anxiety ascend like thick black smoke, filling the space inside her that had not truly felt in so long to it's capacity. Despite that empty space now being full up to the brim her emotions continue to flow into it until Claire can feel them overflowing, like water running over the edge of a pool. Logically the overflow, and thus the lessened content of that space should ease the burden, but like an underground stream that feeds a pond the emotions keep coming, until the only thing Claire can do is allow them to escape.
Claire does this not byscreamingor beating Gabriel to a bloody, ever living pulp, but by a much more… uncharastic method. As the silence between them echoes with the sincerity of Gabriel's words Claire begins to laugh. At first the sound is little more then a quiet chuckle, barley distinguishable over the sharp caws of a flock of crows nearby. As Claire continues to let the sound escape the volume increases until what is issuing from her throat is almost a hysterical scream. Claire keeps laughing even as she falls over onto the blanket, clutching her stomach and tears falling down her face, her body unable to support itself against the constant tremors racking it. Dimly Claire knows that she must be putting on quite a show (if she were anyone else she would have put herself in a straight jacket by now), but the uncontroable laughter spewing forth, and thus the release of those unexpected emotions feels so unbelievingly good that she doesn't want to stop. As Claire lays on the violet blanket, hearing her breath come out in soundless gasps and feeling her hair covering her face, and knowing all the while that Gabriel is watching her,she feels good in a way that she hasn't in almost five years.
Eventually Claire feels those emotions slowly winding down, her insane laughter tapering off.As suddenly as that laughter came upon her, so does the exaushation that Claire can feel steadily flowing over her.Through half closed lids Claire looks up from her position on the blanket, and sure enough Gabriel is watching her, his form bathed in shadows thanks to the setting sun.
Claire awakens late the next morning, but not outside as she had expected to. Claire can see the sun shining weakly through the curtains covering the window, there are firm and comfortable couch cushions underneath her instead of the hard earth, and the purple blanket is tucked securely about her.
And so ended Claire and Gabriel's first serious discussion. One that was marked by painful revelations, comfort, concern, remorse, and forgiveness. One that had contained breakdowns and the unraveling of long buried emotions, tears and broken laughter, a sorrowful and intense brown gaze meeting broken Siamese blue, and thoughts and desires that remained unvoiced. Despite those unspoken wishes, regrets, and the many issues they still needed to shed light on, one simple question about a dog had unlocked a rusty wrought iron gate that stood between them. Now it was just a matter of clearing the vines twining around the bars, removing the leaves shielding the gaps from view, polishing the iron to a shining gleam, and finally stepping through the door.
TBC