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"And?"

"Nope. Nothing."

Claire ran a hand through her brown hairdos and sighed. "This sucks."

"Yeah. It does." West looked up at the sky and then down at his watch. "You know what. I think we should just call it a day. Today hasn't exactly been a success."

"What about what that man told us? That was good stuff. We know that Luke wasn't alone, that Danko's men didn't kill him. His father... We can try to locate his father..."

"But Claire, we don't even know if what he told us was true. They were just rumors. Besides, we don't know anything about his father, we don't know his name or where he lives and neither does Micah. It's a dead end. We are no closer to finding Luke than when we started." West looked back at the diner he just emerged from and grimaced. "It's hopeless."

"Micah wouldn't ask us to go find this kid, if he thought it was hopeless."

"Are you sure about that?"

Claire frowned. "Yeah. Why would he?"

"Um, I don't know. Maybe he was trying to be careful. Maybe he thought it would be safer to send us out to Newark just to give you something to do. I mean, come on. He didn't give us much to work with, did he?"

It was possible that Micah had given them Luke's case on purpose, but West was wrong if he thought it was unsolvable. "I'm not giving up. Not yet." Claire knew she was being incredibly stubborn and that her confidence was probably based on false hope, but didn't care either way. "Do you still have his mom's address?"

"I think so..." West dropped his backpack on the ground and knelt down to open it. "Micah gave me a list... hang on." It didn't take him long to find what he was looking for. "...A list of all the addresses." He stood and showed Claire the list. "See? This is the first diner we went to... that's his school and here's Mary Campbell's house."

Claire looked at the address and finally had a reason to smile again. Luke's mother still lived in Newark apparently. It would only take a few minutes for her and West to get there. "Why don't we just go to her? Who else can tell us more about Luke than his own mother?"

West folded the list and put it in the pocket of his jeans instead of his backpack. "We can't go to his mom. You know we can't. What are we going to say when we get there? 'Hello. You don't know us, but we're trying to find your son'? She's probably gonna ask all sorts of questions that we can't answer."

"But what if we tell her we're just some friends from school and like... we haven't seen him for a while and we got worried... She can't see any harm in that."

"Except that she'll know we're lying once she recognizes your face from TV."

"Okay, then why don't you just go and talk to her on your own? I'll just wait for you outside." It wasn't even such a bad plan. Claire had a pretty good feeling about it. Micah may have told her and West that there was no point in questioning Mary Campbell, but there was no reason why they shouldn't try at the very least. All they needed was to find out more about Luke, about the kind of person he was, the places or the people he might go to. His mother might even tell them something about Luke's father.

West sighed and rolled his eyes. "What the heck. Okay. I guess if we really want to find this kid, we have to go back to where it all started." He held out his arms and waited for Claire to hold on to him again.

But Claire wasn't ready to leave yet. She had to get something off her chest first. "What you said before, about wanting to be with me..."

"You need more time. I get it."

Claire was shaking her head before West had even finished his sentence. "It's not that simple. I..." She paused. Ever since he had told her about his feelings, she had been trying to find the right words to explain how she was feeling. But the words got caught in her throat as she suddenly remembered what Sylar had told her not so long ago. About not being able to let anybody get close and how that was something only she could change. He was right about her. Even after getting rid of all the secrets and all the lies, she still wasn't able to connect. Not to Gretchen, not to West, not to anyone. "I can't really explain it. I guess my head's just not in the right place right now."

"Fair enough," West replied with a shrug. His tone of voice was surprisingly casual.

"Really?"

"Yes. Look, I'm not forcing you to make a decision. I don't want you to think that. I just know I'm gonna regret it if I never told you."

Claire nodded. She appreciated his honesty, she always did, even though it was a little overwhelming sometimes. West was someone who did know how to let people get close and how to connect. She admired it, maybe even envied it, but she, herself, wasn't like that.

She couldn't tell him that. Not yet. She would find the right time, a better time for it. "Thank you."

It didn't take them long to find the address and the house where Luke used to live with his mother. It was already dark by the time they got there, but that was a good thing. It meant there were less people out on the street and less chance of drawing unwanted attention. Claire liked it better that way. The quietness gave her the time to breathe and to not worry about anything, even if it was just for a little while.

West took a deep breath. "Okay, here I go. Wish me luck."

"Good luck." Claire smiled and watched as he walked away from her, towards the third house on their right. Once there, he rang the doorbell and waited. Claire couldn't see the door from where she was standing, but after a few minutes she saw him disappear into the house.

That was a small victory.

Talking to Luke's mom was probably their last chance to find him. If that didn't work, there really was no other option but to give up. It would be quite discouraging if they wanted to keep doing what they were doing. Helping people with abilities, that was.

"Excuse me."

She jumped at the sound of an old man's voice and turned around.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."

Then don't sneak up on me, she almost said. "That's okay."

"Are you lost?" the man asked, followed by a heavy, almost suffocating cough. It didn't sound too good.

Claire didn't see why that was any of his business, but then realized he probably had every right to question her. It was late, it was dark and she was just standing there on the pavement, doing nothing really. She did look lost. "No, I'm not lost. I'm waiting for someone."

"Does that someone know you're here?"

"Yes," Claire answered curtly. "Why?"

"I don't think it's safe for a young woman like yourself to wonder the streets at night. You never know what kind of nutcase you might run into." He straightened his glasses and looked at her from head to toe. "But you look like the kind of girl that can take her of herself. Am I right?"

"Um…" Claire started to feel more uncomfortable by the second. "Yes, I can."

He wasn't going anywhere, didn't move a single muscle. Claire didn't know what to say or do. She was torn between walking away and standing her ground. But then the man suddenly bent over and started coughing again. It sounded even worse than before. The man was obviously very sick. He even had oxygen tubes stuck in his nostrils, connected to a tank that he was carrying on the inside of his coat.

It didn't matter how much he gave Claire the creeps, she couldn't leave him. Not when he looked like he was about to keel over. "Are you okay?"

He kept coughing.

"Do you want to sit down?" She would have offered to call for an ambulance, but she didn't have a phone and she doubted the man had one either.

He held up a hand and continued to cough until he took some kind of handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his mouth with it. "I'm okay." He put the piece of cloth back in his pocket and gave Claire the most hostile smile she had ever seen. "Cancer, child. It's something you have to learn to live with."

"I'm… sorry."

He shook his head and forced another smile for her. "Don't worry about it. I have learned to live with it actually."

"Is there anything I can do? Anything I can get you?"

"Oh, no. Thank you, dear. But I think I'll manage. I live close by."

"At least let me walk you back to your house."

It seemed like he was going to turn down her help again when he suddenly nodded his head and started walking. "That's really kind of you. It's this way."

Claire slowed her pace and walked beside the man. She kept her distance as they walked, but not too far. He looked so sick, so ready to drop dead at any moment, she wasn't going to take any risks. "How long have you been living here?"

"As long as I can remember."

"Do you know the Campbells?" she asked as they walked past the house of the family in question. She figured she might as well ask some questions while West was off to do his own thing.

"Yes," the man answered. "Yes, I do." Then another coughing fit followed.

Claire waited until it seemed like he was ready to talk again. "What about the boy? Luke?"

The man nodded his head thoughtfully. "Yes, I knew him too." He suddenly turned his head and looked at her suspiciously. "If that's who you're waiting for, I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint you."

"Why's that?"

"The boy has disappeared. Left one day and just… never came back. As if he had gone up in smoke." He shrugged and added, "It didn't surprise me. Same thing happened with his father."

"What more can you tell me about him?"

"Luke? Not much. I knew him when he was just a little kid, taught him a thing or two about birds... But that was a long time ago."

"You haven't seen him since?"

This time, he only shook his head in response.

"Oh." That was quite disappointing. Claire wasn't sure whether to believe that the man had known Luke as a little kid, but then, there wasn't any reason for him to lie about something like that. She was just some stranger, asking around a bit. There was nothing wrong with that.

"A chip of the old block, that one," the old man continued. "Luke. A clever kid, eager to learn, a bit of an outsider I would say. He was a good kid, but just like most people, Luke had his... flaws that made him not the easiest kid to deal with. Some people would describe him as arrogant. I would say self-conscious, but that's just me." He suddenly stopped walkingp. "Come to think of it... yes, I believe he did pay me a visit last year."

With that last sentence he had Claire's full attention.

"Sorry, dear. It seems like my long-term memory is failing me more and more often. It comes with the age, I guess." He chuckled absent-mindedly. "Still, there are some things you just never forget."

"That's okay. So, Luke came to see you?"

"Yes, he was looking for someone."

"Who?" She just couldn't control her curiosity.

"My son."

That was better news than Claire could have hoped for. If she was able to find this man's son, he might be able to lead her to Luke. "Where can I find him?"

The man turned his head and looked at what was probably his house. "Why don't you come inside? I'll tell you everything you need to know about him."

And that's what she did. She followed him all the way to his doorstep, waited for him to open his door (which he pushed open with ease) and went inside after him.

Claire realized the mistake she made as soon as she had entered his living room.

The hairs on her arms bristled and a chills went down her spine as she looked around. Everywhere she looked, on every piece of furniture and in every corner of the room, she saw dead eyes staring back at her. Dead eyes of dead animals. Rabbits, birds, raccoons... all different kinds of animals filled the entire room. And there were tools. Loads of tools, knives and other weapons were littered all over the floor, couch and table.

The whole place was giving her the creeps. She wanted to leave. She didn't even know what she was doing there, why she had followed him, instead of questioning his intentions first. It was like her body had done it without her consent. Like her brain had momentarily shut down or something.

There was only one way to explain it, but Claire didn't want to find out if it was true. She turned on her heels and headed straight for the door, which was luckily still open.

"Not. So. Fast."

The door slammed shut.

She cussed softly and turned back to face him. "What did you do to me?"

"The power of persuasion," he answered. "It's a beautiful thing, don't you think?" He held up his hand, made three arrows appear out of nowhere and fired them at Claire with an incredible speed.

Claire watched as they soared through the air and pierced right through her body. All three of them. One in each shoulder and one right in the middle, just above her stomach. It didn't hurt. There was no pain. She glanced down at her wounds, but the sight of her own blood didn't bother her at all. She had seen it way too many times before. "You have an ability," she said, even though it was obvious.

"Got lots of 'em," he replied, then turned away and left.

Claire wanted to punch herself in the face. She had done exactly what she had been trying to avoid. She had dropped her guard, she had not been cautious enough. But it wasn't all her fault. That man had manipulated her somehow. He had persuaded her to enter his home. The power of persuasion.

But the man had also thrown her against the wall, impaled her with arrows… That was obviously telekinesis. She wondered what else he had, whether his ability was the same as Peter's had been or if he had stolen them like Sylar.

"It's funny how life turns out sometimes," the man said as he walked back into the living room. He was carrying some sort of tray and laughed out loud when he placed it on the table. "When you think it's over, when the ending is near, a second chance suddenly presents itself. And in my case, a third."

Claire had no idea what he was talking about. She tried to see what he was doing, what he had on that tray, but he was facing the other way on purpose. "I'm just looking for Luke. He might be in trouble." She didn't know what he was planning on doing to her, but whatever it was, she knew she probably had worse.

"Luke," the man said with a slight chuckle, which turned into another coughing fit. It took him a minute or two to get his bearing before he was able to talk again. "I knew that he would be good for something. I'll be sure to thank him once I've found him."

"Once you find him?"

He turned around and began to sharpen this long, curvy, weird-looking knife. "After I've taken your power, of course. But before I find him, I'll have to go and see my son first. Gabriel needs to know how much of a failure he is, he needs to know that he was wrong. Not that that's any of your concern."

"Sylar..." Claire breathed the name as if she was facing the man himself. Of all the people she could have run into, it had to be Sylar's father.

"What did you say?"

It all added up. Sylar's real name was Gabriel and this old man, who (as she came to think of it) kind of reminded her of Sylar, had the exact same ability. Sylar had told her at Stanton how he had met his father and how disappointing that had been for him. "He's your son..."

"You've met him? You've met Gabriel?" He dropped the tool, the one he had been using to sharpen his knife, and slowly walked towards Claire. "There's only one way you could've survived meeting my son. You're her, aren't you? You are the cheerleader from California."

"He told you?" Claire asked, even though she probably already knew the answer.

"Told me? He spoke of it with such casuality, like it was nothing. Like he had done the one thing I would never be able to do. Becoming immortal."

"That's why you lured me to this place. You knew about my ability and you didn't want to make a scene out on the street, so you used your abilities to make me follow you. You were just pretending to be sick, so I would feel sorry for you." Claire just kept talking in the hope to buy herself more time, to still try and find a way out.

"I wasn't pretending, girl. I knew you had something powerful in you. I was able to feel it all the way from here." He moved closer and closer, until Claire was able to feel his heavy breathing on her face. "I had hoped you were Gabriel, that he had come to finish me off, but this is so much better..."

Claire did her best to not look scared, she was trying to look like she didn't give a damn, but it was hard. She was falling apart on the inside. She was terrified. She had not been this scared since the day that Sylar took her ability. And now his father was going to do the same. "You're just like him," she hissed as she blinked back her tears.

"Do not compare me to that pathetic excuse for a son." He held the sharp end of his knife against her cheek and almost seemed mesmerized by the prospect of cutting open her soft, delicate skin. "He couldn't even kill me."

Claire pulled her head back as far as she could, but his telekinesis wouldn't let her move away far enough. She closed her eyes and told herself to just let it happen. The sooner it was over, the better.

When she opened her eyes, she realized he had not done anything to her yet. But the way he was looking at her... it made her feel sick. There was bloodlust in his eyes. Bloodlust and hunger. She recognized it all too well. Sylar had the exact same look in his eyes the day he took her ability.

"At last..." he said as he moved the knife from her cheek to her forehead.

Claire breathed in a large amount of oxygen and braced herself. She felt sick, she felt cold, she was shaking from head to toe and she remembered. She remembered how it had been the first time. The shame, the pain (not the physical, but the emotional) it was all happening again. There was nothing she could do to stop it. She just had to accept it.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if she just kept her eyes shut. Then all she had to do was wait for it to be over.

A loud bang suddenly filled the silence.

Claire opened her eyes and looked down at the floor. The man was lying there. He wasn't moving.

Her eyes moved from the man's body to the door, where she found West standing with a gun in both hands, still aimed at its target. "West..."

He didn't hear her. Or maybe he did, but just didn't acknowledge it. He just kept staring down at the old man, his chest heaving uncontrollably.

Claire wanted to go to him, but couldn't. She was still pinned to the damn wall. Luckily for her, she had been in that situation before. All she had to do was push herself off from the wall. The arrows had gone all the way through when she was hit, so it was easy to let them slide through her body.

Once she was free and once her wounds had healed, she went to West immediately. She took hold of his arm and dragged him outside, onto the lawn. They had to leave as soon as possible. That gunshot must have been heard by the neighbors and it wouldn't take long before they came to see what was going. Claire didn't want to be seen at a crime scene, she didn't want to wait for the police to come. "Give me that gun." She didn't know where he got it from, but that didn't matter for now.

West did as he was told and gave her the gun.

"I'll be back in a second," she told him and went back inside. She moved towards the body and noticed that he had been hit in his left shoulder. That was not good. His eyes were closed and that meant that there was a chance that he was still alive. She couldn't have that. He didn't deserve to live.

Claire held the gun in both her hands and aimed it at his heart.

Pulling the trigger wasn't as difficult as she thought it would be.

Next Chapter: In Trouble