Five Years Later: Chapter Six

Gretchen looks at the chair Claire is offering her, and shakes her head no. "I prefer standing for bad news," she explains, looking at Claire as if she were a bomb getting ready to explode.

Claire shrugs and takes the seat for herself, propping her feat on the table in front of her. She leans back carelessly and takes a bite of the pear.

"Suit yourself," she says, her mouth still half-full. "But, this is kind of a long story."

"Could you maybe ... I don't know ... give me the short version?"

"Even the short version is kind of long," Claire warns.

"Fine."

Gretchen pulls out the chair in front of her and sits down across from Claire, folding her arms impatiently. "You could start by telling me what circumstances threw you and Becky ... together," she suggests to Claire, raising one eyebrow.

"Don't you think we should start at the beginning?" she replies, taking another bite of the pear.

Gretchen rolls her eyes. "Fine. Whatever. Just ... start."

Claire leans forward, allowing the front feet of her chair to finally rest safely on the ground. "Well, I guess, for me, it all started when my father died ..." she begins. "Actually, I kind of lost both of my fathers that night."

"Both of your fathers?" Gretchen asks, her attitude softening a little.

"Right. I guess you didn't really stick around long enough to be filled in on that whole story," replies Claire. "My biological father, Nathan Petrelli, and the father you met, Noah Bennet, were both involved ... when my life got completely turned upside down. And, I lost them. I lost them both ..."

Claire trails off at the end, lost in her own thoughts. She has been upbeat and perky all morning, almost annoyingly so. But, suddenly, all that spark has left her in an instant. Her eyes have gone blank, and she stares past Gretchen as if looking at someone else ... or sometime else.

"Oh, Claire," Gretchen breathes out in sympathy, not really meaning to.

Claire's eyes pop back into focus, and she shakes herself, trying to regain some of her earlier pep. "No ... it's okay," she assures Gretchen with a deep inhalation of breath, "I can talk about this now. It's been a long time."

"When did this happen?" asks Gretchen gingerly.

"Not long after you left," sighs Claire, finally setting down the pear and resting her elbows on the table. "A couple of weeks maybe."

Gretchen looks horrified. "Oh my God," she says, "I am so sorry."

"Why would you be sorry?" she asks, lifting her brows. "You didn't kill them."

"But ... I could've been there," imagines Gretchen out loud, "instead of ..."

"There's absolutely nothing you could have done," promises Claire. "In fact, had you been there, you could have easily been killed too. It was a nightmare ... and it would have only been worse if I had lost you too that night."

"Wh ... What ... happened?" asks Gretchen, leaning forward. Suddenly, this doesn't feel like a full interview anymore. It doesn't feel like a police interview at all.

"There was a man," begins Claire, rubbing her bare arm as if chilled, "named Sylar. If I told you that whole story, we'd be here twice the time. Long story short, this man- Sylar- he killed my biological father, Nathan ... I could tell you how, but ... it's complicated, and it doesn't even matter anymore. The point is, Sylar is a very disturbed person with very dangerous abilities. The only thing standing between him and the rest of us was Nathan. Once he was out of the way ..."

"Sylar came for the rest of you?" guesses Gretchen, swallowing hard.

"With a vengeance," adds Claire, suddenly looking tired for the first time. "He came to the carnival first ... the one that Becky worked for. He knew the people there could help lead him to us, and he wanted to kill Becky's boss, Samuel ... which he did. But, my uncle Peter knew he was going there. He called my other father for help, and the two of them went to the carnival to stop Sylar ... for good."

"But ... it didn't work? Why?"

"Hiro, the man you met in the elevator ... he was dying of a brain tumor at the time," Claire tries to explain, realizing how crazy all of this must sound, "and Peter, he suddenly realized that Sylar was the only one who could help him. My father and Peter promised Sylar they wouldn't kill him if he helped Hiro."

"Sylar can heal people too?" Gretchen asks.

"Not usually," replies Claire dryly. "He's really good at cutting certain things out of people's brains though. Kind of like laser surgery without the anesthesia."

Gretchen shudders. "Okay. So, he healed Hiro. Then what happened? Why didn't your dad and Peter just kill Sylar then?"

Claire shrugs. "They were the good guys," she says simply. "Good guys don't break their word."

"So what did they do?"

"My father and another woman, Tracy, took Sylar into custody, whatever that was supposed to mean," Claire tells her, rolling her eyes. "Where in the hell they thought they were going to take him, I'll never know. There isn't a facility in the world that could hold Sylar ... well, until now."

"What do you mean until now?" Gretchen asks.

"We'll get back to that in a second," promises Claire. "What happened next is what you seemed to be so interested in a second ago ... what lead me to Becky."

"Right. Sorry," says Gretchen, trying desperately to keep up with this tale. "Go ahead."

"My uncle Peter came to my dorm room at school," she continues, "to keep me safe until they were sure Sylar was put away somewhere he couldn't escape from. Except, that never happened. We never received the call. We never received any call. My father and Tracy were dead. Sylar had fought them in the car. They were like sitting ducks."

"And ... he was loose," Gretchen needlessly points out, her eyes wide with horror. "To come after you next."

"Things were crazy those first few days," recounts Claire, looking past Gretchen again. "Peter was afraid for my life, and I was afraid for his. I wanted to go after Sylar with him. I wanted to kill Sylar with my bare hands. But ... I would have been no match for him. Eventually, I agreed to stay with Hiro at the carnival ... with the others who had managed to survive Sylar's massacre. Becky's boss wasn't the only victim. He killed three others at the carnival before my dad and Peter showed up."

"So, that's how you got to know Becky," surmises Gretchen. "And, all these people here ... they are the other survivors?"

"Most of them," Claire answers, shaking herself once again to regain focus. She locks eyes with Gretchen and smiles, leaning forward with a sigh. "We've managed to find a few others, but ... most of them are from the carnival. We've been living together in one form or another for almost five years."

"And you and Becky ... you ..."

"We didn't get along too well at first," Claire admits, laughing a little. "But, then again, I wasn't getting along with anyone too well at the time. I went into a really dark place, Gretchen. One I thought I'd never crawl back out of."

"Is that why you started robbing banks?" asks Gretchen.

Claire laughs, and it brings back the twinkle in her eyes. She leans back again, and says, "not exactly. Although, I suppose that didn't hurt things either."

"Why did you start robbing banks? Was that Becky's idea?"

"No, it was my idea," Claire says at once, sounding a little defensive. "We were running out of money here, and ... someone had to do something."

"Ever heard of getting a job?" jokes Gretchen nervously.

"Not a possibility," explains Claire, leaning forward again. "You see ... here's where we get to that bad news I was telling you about."

Gretchen takes a deep breath. "And here I thought we'd already touched on that," she says.

"Sylar may have escaped my dad, but ... he didn't escape everyone," says Claire. "He was eventually captured ... by some government force. A government force that now wants to add us as Sylar's cellmates. They've already managed to round up a lot of us. And, that's not the worst part. The worst part is what they do with us once they have us in custody."

"What do they do? I thought you said you didn't know!"

"I didn't want to give you too much information at once," claims Claire, biting down on her bottom lip.

"Well, that's not a very good plan!" exclaims Gretchen. "The more you keep from me, the more confused I'm going to be!"

"I know. I get that now, okay?" Claire replies, leaning forward to take Gretchen's hand. "That's why we're sitting here ... you know?"

Gretchen looks down at her hand and back up at Claire. There is a charge running from Claire's hand that stretches all the way up to Gretchen's collar bone, and it scares her. She pulls her hand away reflexively, then clears her throat to refocus the conversation.

"You were getting ready to say something about what they do ... to ... people like you," Gretchen reminds her.

"Right. Well, they basically give them a choice," she says, "to either work with them, or to live in a five by five cell for the rest of their lives."

"Not much of a choice," replies Gretchen.

"Exactly. I've heard of a few who've resisted, but ... not many."

"How do you know all this stuff?" asks Gretchen.

"That part's easy," she answers, giving her a sly smile. "We have a psychic. A, uh ... painter, actually. Most of them paint their visions. Not sure why."

"And, the government?" Gretchen asks. "How did they know about all of you?"

"Well, for starters, they've got my dad's old files," she says. "They found them in a warehouse after he died. If Rene, the Haitian, hadn't been so busy hunting Sylar with Peter, he would've have destroyed them. But, none of us expected the government to be watching for us. We believed that those days were over. Luckily, my dad had erased all mention of my name. That's the only reason I'm able to pull off these robberies! They don't have a clue who I am."

Gretchen leans back in her chair, thinking all this over carefully, and trying her best to ignore the physical pull she feels towards Claire. She must be unbiased and think critically, like a real cop. She must forget she has any feelings for Claire at all.

She thought she already had. A long, long time ago.

"Okay, so ... they got your dad's files, which I'm assuming included dossiers on all the people he had discovered with abilities, minus you, of course ... Except ... how did they know the files would be there?"

"Same way we're assuming your partner knew I'd be in that bank that day," Claire tells her. "We think they have their own painter. Or, someone with a similar ability."

"A psychic? But, if that's the case, how did they stumble upon this psychic? If the government didn't know about people with abilities, then why would they have one? They had to have known about you all along."

"I don't think so," says Claire, suddenly interested in where Gretchen is taking this. "My father would have been aware of that. He certainly wouldn't have allowed me to use my real name at college, had he thought otherwise."

"So ... you guys are working on the assumption that the government just accidently tripped over this information, at the exact same time that all this was going down with Sylar and the carnival?"

Claire nods slowly, her eyes intent on Gretchen's every word. "Kind of. Why? What's your theory?"

"You said this government force that's after you asks people to make a choice: to either work with them, or to be put in a cell forever ... right?"

"Well ... I didn't exactly finish that thought," Claire admits. "See, they don't just put them in a cell. They ... breed them. They breed all of them, actually. It's just ... some do it willingly. Some don't."

Gretchen's jaw drops open in response. "They do ... wh ... wh ... what?"

"I know. It's the sickest thing about this," agrees Claire. "Now you know why I don't really feel bad for robbing a few banks."

"But ... why would they ..." she starts to ask, but already knows the answer before she even starts to speak.

"To build an army," says Claire, as if this isn't shocking in the least. "An army of evolves."

Gretchen shakes herself, wondering now if Claire had been right about giving her too much information at once. "Okay. Let's just ... put that one on the back-burner for now. First, I think you may want to reconsider that theory you have on the government just accidently finding your father's warehouse. The government doesn't accidently find anything."

"Sounds logical," agrees Claire. "So ... how did they find it?"

"Well, we may be surrounded by the unusual here," says Gretchen, "but, I think it may have been something a little more common in this case. Like, say ... a double agent?"

"A double agent?" repeats Claire.

"Yeah. You know ... a spy? A turn-coat? A traitor?"

"You mean ... you think one of us told the government?" asks a surprised Claire, eyes wide with disbelief.

"You find that strange?"

"Well, yeah! I mean, who would put themselves at risk like that? What would they have to gain?" Claire asks her.

"You said they gave those who worked with them more freedom," points out Gretchen. "That made me think. Someone with enough ambition and a cold enough heart could have easily assumed, or hoped at least, that they would be given some kind of leadership position in exchange for information. That may have even been their plan all along ... to not only start a war against their own kind, but to lead it as well."

Claire is already shaking her head before Gretchen ends her thought. "No way. There's no one here like that," she assures her without hesitation. "These are all good people here."

"Are you sure? Claire, no offense, but ... for a superhero, I kind of remember you being a little naive when it came to trusting people."

Claire balks at this idea. "What? That is entirely untrue. And, anyway ... maybe I was a little naive before. But ... not anymore, Gretch. I've learned a lot."

"You're robbing banks for money," Gretchen reminds her.

"How else do you expect us to feed ourselves when there is a government agent waiting to take us in around every corner?"

"Fine," Gretchen huffs in defeat. "Then ... tell me more about Becky. How did you two ... become interested in each other?"

"You don't think Becky's the traitor? Do you?"

"I didn't say that," Gretchen says. "But ... I mean ... How well do you really know her, Claire?"

Claire stiffens and gives her a look of warning, narrowing her brows. "Becky pulled me out of a downward spiral, Gretchen. She made me see that my life wasn't over just because my father was gone. She saved my life."

"Okay," concedes Gretchen with a heavy sigh. "But, I still think there's a traitor in your midst. And, that traitor knows about me."

"What do you mean?" questions Claire, her nose bunching up in that way that lets Gretchen know she had not made this connection herself yet.

"My apartment," reminds Gretchen. "It blew up! Remember? And, I shouldn't have been given your case in the first place. I'm just a first year cop, forensics specialist or not. Someone was just using me to get closer to ..."

Suddenly, Gretchen stands, frantically feeling herself, as if looking for ticks. Claire stands as well in response, regarding her with fascination.

"What are you doing?" she asks Gretchen.

"Looking for implants," Gretchen explains, as if this should be obvious. "You know ... as in, the gps kind of implants?"

Claire omits a small laugh and comes closer, carefully latching on to Gretchen's flailing arms. She forces them down slowly, saying, "quit fidgeting and let me look. You look like a crazed monkey doing it like that."

As Claire's fingers part Gretchen's hair, she can feel her breath at her neck as she inspects her skin for suspected implants. It is warm, yet causes a chill to run up her back. She feels the gooseflesh rise on her skin and wonders if Claire notices.

"If they know about my ... relationship to you, then they could be tracking me," Gretchen explains, suddenly feeling silly ... and very uncomfortable.

"I think you're just being paranoid," Claire admits, "but ... I don't mind looking. Just in case."

"If you have a lab, we could do it in there," suggests Gretchen. "I mean, given certain equipment, I could determine for sure whether or not ..."

"We don't have labs," says Claire, lifting the back of her shirt up. "They're too expensive. We can barely afford cell phones."

Claire looks closely at her back. And, as her breath touches the skin there, Gretchen suddenly spins around. Claire takes a step back in surprise, but is smiling wickedly nonetheless, and suppressing a chuckle.

"Maybe this isn't a good idea," Gretchen says nervously, smoothing out the front of her blouse.

"Which part?" asks Claire, giving her a sideways smile. "The part where you thought the government had implanted you, or the part where I got to look at your bare back? What's the matter? You ticklish?"

Gretchen starts to speak, but is interrupted by the door slamming open behind them. She and Claire both turn to look, and see the Haitian standing in the doorway, an expression of panic on his face. He is out of breath and sweating profusely.

"You must come with me ... NOW!" he manages to pant out.

Claire looks at Gretchen with wide eyes and shrugs, turning to follow him out the door.

"Wait ..." says Gretchen, grabbing on to her arm. "What's going on?"

"I don't know," says Claire. "But, when Rene says follow, you'd better follow."

She takes Gretchen's hand and pulls her forward, saying, "come on!"

The Haitian is already half-way down the hall, but is waiting for them, waving for them to hurry. Claire picks up speed, yanking Gretchen with her, and gaining on the Haitian named Rene in no time. They race down one hallway to the next, spinning around corners and slamming through doors, until finally spilling out into the outside world. They come to rest on a sidewalk, a block away from the building they just exited. All three are bent over, catching their breaths.

Gretchen looks up and the sun hits her eyes like a police searchlight, causing her pupils to retract. She slowly adjusts them, blinking profusely, and finally sees that they are standing in the middle of a ghost town. The building they had exited, looming large ahead of them, resembles an old hotel from the wild west on the outside.

Looking at it now, she cannot imagine anyone actually living inside, and yet ... they do. They are. Just past the look of abandonment on the outside lives a small tribe of evolves, trying desperately to survive.

Claire looks up at Rene with concern. "What's going on? Why did you drag us out here?" she demands to know.

He is looking back at their building as if waiting for something. "Wait," he tells her softly. "Stand back."

Gretchen follows his stare just in time to see the building explode, blasting into a million pieces all at once. Claire lunges forward, screaming, "NO!" But, Rene grabs her around the waist and keeps her there, whispering in her ear.

"It's too late," he whispers. "Stop, Claire. There's nothing you can do. It's too late."

In a moment, Claire stops fighting and begins to cry, crumpling into Rene's arms like a rag-doll.

Gretchen steps closer to the two, but approaches cautiously.

"How did you know it was going to blow?" she asks the Haitian.

He looks up from consoling Claire and gives Gretchen a look of helplessness that she did not anticipate. "I saw it," he tells her, "the bomb. I saw something flash across the security cameras earlier, in the room next to you and Claire. I couldn't tell what it was, so I went to check it out. When I got there, I found a bomb ready to detonate. I had no time to warn the others."

"Why set off a bomb when you could just come here and capture everyone?" Gretchen wonders aloud.

Claire separates herself from Rene and looks at Gretchen with curiosity, her eyes still red and swollen, but the tears stopped, as if by her will alone. "You think the traitor did this?" she assumes.

"Well ... yeah," Gretchen tells her, being careful not to mention Becky any further. "But ... like I said, why kill so many people when you could have just rounded them up for the evolve army?"

"Maybe we are too powerful all together," Rene suggests. "Now, they have us scattered without protection. Now is when they will come for us."

"Now they have us dead!" exclaims Claire in disbelief. "Rene, Hiro is gone. Becky is ..."

She stops herself short, shaking her head to hold off further tears. "And we are like ducks on a pond out here!" she adds, pointing out the obvious.

As if in answer, Hiro appears suddenly next to them. He looks serious in demeanor, but not without hope. He reaches out both hands in invitation.

"Come," he tells them. "I fear the worst. We must leave quickly."

"But ... how did you ..." Gretchen is stammering as Claire and Rene gather around Hiro.

Claire reaches a hand out to Gretchen, a solitary tear running down one smooth cheek. "Take my hand, Gretch," she says. "Hurry. Please."

Gretchen slowly takes Claire's extended hand and closes her eyes, expecting just about anything at this point, and hoping to God that Claire and her friends know what they are getting themselves and her into.

*to be continued ...*