The doors of the E.R. burst open as the doctors on-call prepared to receive their latest patient: a caucasian male, somewhere in his late twenties to early thirties, found unconscious in an alley and called in by a homeless man who frequented the area.

They'd done all they could for him, but it still didn't seem like enough: he appeared to have been struck by lightning, and was now in a coma. He was stable, but unresponsive. And with no identification on him, there was no one to contact. All they could do was monitor him. And if he didn't wake up…well…the best thing he could do is wake up.

The night nurse who checked on him couldn't help but notice the intensity of his features, even with him being in a coma. She smiled when she thought that he looked like he had a whole universe inside him. He was…handsome, in a dark, devilish sort of way. She checked his IV and left his room.

She went to the front desk and leaned on it, grinning. The nurse stationed there saw her and laughed.

"What are you smiling about?"

"Oh, just the man in 703, Susan."

Susan cocked an eyebrow. "He's in a coma, Patty. What's so funny about that?"

Patty rolled her eyes. "I know his condition is serious. It's just…he's kinda cute, that's all." She blushed and rubbed her face against her shoulder.

Susan shook her head. "You're crazy. Why didn't you let me fix you up with my cousin?"

"Oh, it's not that. He's got this, I don't know, dark and mysterious look to him. It's…attractive."

"Patty, he's a John Doe. He was found on the streets. We know nothing about him."

"Well, that's what makes him so attractive," Patty retorted, turning around and leaning her back against the desk. "Maybe he's rich and powerful. Maybe he's a spy!"

Susan slid her glasses down her nose in her older lady, no-nonsense way. "Or maybe he's happily married and his wife is killing herself with worry."

"Oh, he's not the marrying kind. I'm sure of it."

"Well, maybe not. But you never know. He might have someone out there, waiting for him. Someone who loves him."

Patty shook her head. "He's gorgeous. But he's not the type to fall in love with anyone."

"You're sure of that too, honey?"

"Sure as my life."

CCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCC

Zach couldn't help but stare at his date while she picked only the crispy fries from her plate. Then he wondered if he should re-think his classification of her as his "date." She was Claire. She'd once told him that he was her best friend, and since she was the closest one he had, then that must make her his best friend too. Then again, he was a guy, she was a girl, they were at a restaurant together, just the two of them. Anyone taking a casual look at them would assume they were on a date.

He was still mad at her for leaving, but he was beginning to feel more sympathy for her than anger. He looked at her eyes and he could see world-weariness. She was still young, and beautiful, but she wasn't happy, or at peace. And while Zach didn't consider himself the most intelligent, or sophisticated guy in the world, he knew that Claire was too young to carry that weight on her shoulders. He wanted to take her away from it all, to make her the happy high school girl she had once been.

He must have looked spaced out, because Claire tilted her head and smiled. "Earth to Zach. Are you picking up on my frequency?"

Zach blinked, then smiled back. "Sorry about that. I was just thinking…" he trailed off. He was embarrassed to tell her what had been on his mind.

"You were thinking?"

"Well, if you're going to be staying for a while, you're going to need a place to stay."

Claire shrugged. "I have some money left. I'll get a hotel room."

"Actually, I had a better idea."

Zach's aunt had a room in her basement that was going unused, and she herself had a job which required her to do extensive traveling; therefore, she was rarely at home. In exchange for watching the house and doing some cleaning, Zach's aunt would allow Claire to stay for free.

When he explained this to Claire, she whole-heartedly agreed and they drove over to Zach's aunt's house after they finished their dinner.

"Claire, this is my Aunt Jeanne. Aunt Jeanne, this is my friend Claire," Zach introduced them to one another.

"Nice to meet you, Claire. You can just call me Jeanne." Zach's aunt was the typical professional "working woman": beautiful, well-preserved, trimly dressed.

Claire shook her hand and smiled. "Thanks for allowing me to stay."

"Well, I hope you won't mind being alone for a good part of the time. I'm usually on the road for my job."

"Well, so was I, until now," Claire said with a sad smile.

Zach could see his aunt was about to ask about Claire's travels, so he cut in quickly. "Claire and I are going to get her stuff and get her settled in. We'll be back in a few hours." He ushered Claire out of the house.

"Thanks," Claire told him once they were in the car and on the way to the mall.

"No problem," Zach replied. "I figured you didn't want to talk about what happened while you were traveling." Then, feeling a little petty, he added, "seeing as how you haven't really told me anything."

Claire looked away from the road and shot him an indignant look. "What do you want to know?"

Zach hadn't expected her to be so direct. "Well…I guess I want to know what made you leave Odessa in the first place."

Staring straight ahead, hoping no emotions showed on her face, Claire couldn't help but feel relief. The beginning of her story was simple enough; well, relatively. It didn't involve explaining Sylar.

"Two of the men that were kidnapped and studied by my dad's company held my family hostage. One of them was…radioactive. He…blew up, sort of. That's how my house was destroyed."

"Whoa," Zach uttered. "They told us that the fire was an accident, and that your family was relocated."

"My dad sent me with a man named Caleb, to keep me safe. I ran away from him, trying to find Peter Petrelli, the guy who saved me from—who saved me that night."

"Who?"

Claire sighed. She'd forgotten that Zach's memory had been wiped, and he'd forgotten everything that happened up to homecoming. She found she was somewhat saved by the fact that they had pulled up to the store. Quickly she walked inside and threw herself into buying what she needed.

Zach walked after her. He didn't want to press her, but he knew that there was practically a whole life's worth of conflict inside of her. He stood behind her as she grabbed toiletries and began shoving them into the basket she'd picked up.

"Claire," he began gently. "Who's Peter Petrelli?"

Claire turned and faced him. "He's my uncle. He saved my life the night of homecoming."

"So…you did find the rest of your family."

She sighed, and proceeded to walk to another aisle, confident that Zach would follow right after her. "My father was Nathan Petrelli."

Zach's eyes widened. "You mean that New York senator who disappeared the night of his election?"

Claire nodded. "He's dead. He died saving the city from Peter."

Zach was puzzled. "But if Peter saved you, why would he want to destroy a city?"

Claire opened her mouth to explain, but then stopped. It was all too much, just far too much. This wasn't something that could easily explained or understood. It wearied her just to try.

"Zach, please don't think I'm insulting your intelligence, but it's really too much to talk about. And quite honestly, I'd rather forget all of it. I can't change what's happened."

Zach groaned. "Don't you trust me?"

"It's not an issue of trust!" Claire exclaimed. "You were the first person I ever trusted, even before my father; you know that! But I need you to trust me again. I came here to start fresh; please don't make me go through all that mess again!"

Zach looked at her for what seemed a long while. He felt slighted that she wouldn't talk to him, but then again, he'd just gotten her back and he didn't want to scare her away.

After she'd gotten everything she needed, Claire paid for her items and she and Zach made their way through the parking lot. They were stopped in their tracks when they heard the tail end of a rather unpleasant conversation.

"Joe, baby, I'm sorry! Please don't get angry at me!"

"What the fuck were you thinking—stupid bitch! Calling those social services people on me!"

"Joe, you made like you were going to hit Ricky, and you said you'd never hurt him!"

Claire could hear the tears in the young woman's voice as the tall, muscular man towered over her. He looked like he was about to hit her, and she was cowering against her car.

"Claire. You should do something," Zach whispered.

But Claire calmly opened the trunk of her car and began putting the bags into it.

Zach was perplexed. "Claire, did you hear what I said? That guy's terrorizing that woman! You can stop him!"

Claire looked at him, unconvinced. "What am I going to do? Take a punch for her? That's their personal relationship; I'm not getting myself involved."

Zach couldn't believe what he was hearing. Claire had always talked about using her powers to help others. Now there was a woman who needed protection, and Claire was standing by and doing nothing.

Claire gave him a look of unconcern. "Unless you want to go play domestic counselor, you'd better get in the car. I'm ready to go."

Zach glared, but he got into the mustang and they drove back to his aunt's house. Finally, when they were parked in the driveway, he worked up the courage to talk to her. He took hold of her arm to keep her from going in.

"What's happened to you?" he asked. "You're not the Claire I remember."

Much to his surprise, Claire didn't argue with him. Instead, she nodded her head in agreement. "I've learned that the world is a horrible place, and I'm not going to change it just because my skin doesn't scar and my bones set themselves. There's no 'greater good.' There's no 'true calling' for me. It's just me trying to justify the reason why I was born a freak—no, no, let me finish. I'm tired, Zach. I'm so sick and tired of all these secrets and lies and conspiracies. I'm tired of the world. It's all the same, it always has been."

Zach stared at her in a mixture of pity and fear. He thought her life was complicated when she was just testing her limits. Now...he was almost glad she didn't want to talk about it. He wasn't sure if he'd want to hear it.

Then she sighed. "Come on, now. Help me get these bags into the house. I've got to get my room set up."

He swallowed and followed her lead. He hoped that she would stay. He promised himself he would do everything he could to keep her there.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

He was Gabriel.

At least, that's what the man with his face called him. He was dumbfounded. All he could do is stare.

His double laughed. "You don't remember anything, do you?"

He shook his head dumbly.

His double stepped back, as if to take him all in. "Well. That's good. Now we get to start all over again, make it right this time." Then he turned around and looked about the desert. "The first thing we need to do is get rid of this depressing motif. Honestly, Gabriel. You have no imagination."

He waved his hand, and the desert began to change. Trees sprouted up from the otherwise barren soil. The temperature got cooler and more comfortable. The sound of furious winds lashing through the air were replaced by the sounds of birds and insects. They were now in a forest.

His double smiled in satisfaction. "Much better."

Gabriel worked up the courage to ask his double a question. "Who are you?"

The man's smile turned into a condescending smirk. "I am you. The better part of you. I am what you call Sylar."

"And—and those…people? Back…there?"

Sylar sighed. "It's better if you don't think of them as people, Gabriel. They simply were a means of acquiring what belonged to you."

Gabriel rubbed his temples. "They said that I killed them."

Sylar laughed. "Well, in a way, I guess you did. I always liked to think of it as delivering justice; you know, rewarding the worthy and punishing those who aren't."

Gabriel was puzzled. "So…those people were criminals? I was some sort of…law enforcement officer?"

His doppelganger sighed. "I see that we're going to have to go back to the very beginning for you to understand. Very well. We have all the time in the world."

He put his arm around Gabriel. "Close your eyes."

Gabriel hesitated, but finally gave in. When he opened them again, he was in a small shop, full of the sounds of clocks and watches ticking.

He explored the shop, staring at all the timepieces decorating the walls and tables. Then he caught sight of Sylar, standing in a corner, his arms crossed. From the look on his face, it was clear that this wasn't a place he cared for particularly.

But Gabriel liked it. It was familiar to him. "I work here," he said. "I fix watches. And I'm good at it!"

"No. Correction," Sylar said grimly. "You worked here. You fixed watches. And you were good at it. This is the past I'm showing you."

"But—but—I was happy here!"

Sylar lunged at him, grabbing him by the collar. "No you weren't! Don't you remember? The emptiness you felt? The monotony? The absolute insignificance of your life? But underneath it all, there was the knowledge that somehow, you were special. That this paltry little shop was keeping you from finding your true calling!"

Gabriel's eyes widened as he began to remember something. "I've heard something like that before. Someone…someone I loved, telling me that I was meant for greater things."

Sylar's eyes darkened. "Our mother. Yes. In her own, pathetic sort of way, she cultivated that knowledge in us."

"Yes," Gabriel agreed. He was beginning to remember bits and pieces. He could see his father, standing above him, showing him how to take apart a watch and then put it back together. He saw his mother, grabbing one of the watches off of his father's table and shaking it above her head, while his father begged her to put it down. He remembered his father's death, and his promise to himself that he'd continue the family business. He saw the years flash by him, day after day of people bringing in watches, him fixing them, then returning them and collecting his fee. Again and again and again. And then, he remembered that day…

Sylar smiled, as if he read this mind. Then again, if Sylar was him, that made sense. "You remember that day when it all changed for us?" He walked behind Gabriel, his lips just inches from his ear. "Would you like to see it again?" he whispered.

The next thing Gabriel knew, he was sitting at his work bench, fixing a Seiko. A man walked in. He was dark, probably Indian, with a grey and white beard. He smiled. "Gabriel Gray?"

Gabriel looked up. "Yes?"

"I'm Dr. Chandra Suresh. I'm a geneticist, and I'm working on a very exciting project. You might have difficulty believing this, but I believe that you were born with a…genetic enhancement, so to speak. If you'd be willing, I'd like to run some tests on you."

"Yes," Gabriel said, and stood up. He was back in the forest with Sylar.

"Chandra Suresh believed that I had a power! And he ran tests on me, and--" then he stopped.

"And?" Sylar prodded.

"And he told me that I wasn't special. He couldn't find anything that made me different from any other idiot on the planet." Gabriel was beginning to get angry.

Sylar, however, looked thrilled. "Yes! But we didn't give up just then. Do you remember what happened next?"

Gabriel turned away from Sylar and back into the depths of the forest. It came to him.

He was back in his father's shop, and someone was coming in. It was the man he'd seen earlier, the timid looking one with glasses and blond hair.

"Hello?" the man called out.

Gabriel was about to answer when Sylar appeared, seeming to take his place. "Are you Brian Davis?" he asked.

"Yes. And you are…?"

"I'm…Mr. Sylar."

Gabriel watched as Brian made a cup move a few inches across the table. He was a telekinetic!

But Brian looked afraid. "I don't want this! I want it gone! Can you help me?" he pleaded to Sylar.

Gabriel was confused. Why would this man want to get rid of such an incredible ability?

Brian turned away. Sylar was staring at his head. Curious, Gabriel got closer and looked. He could see something ticking in Brian's head. His brain! Yes! That must be it.

Then Gabriel saw, with horror, that Sylar was picking up a hammer. "You're broken, Brian," he said. "But I can fix you." He held the hammer up.

"No! Sylar! You don't have to do this!" Gabriel cried. But it was too late. The unsuspecting man was lying in a pool of his own blood.

And Gabriel found, much to his horror, that he was now holding the bloody hammer, he was standing over the body. He turned around to find Sylar behind him, grinning.

"I am born," Sylar said, almost in wonder.

CCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCC

The sound of monitors flatlined in 703 made Patty call out, "Code blue! Code blue! ICU!"

The doctor on call rushed into the room. Their John Doe's heart had stopped.

Note: Some of the dialog from the flashbacks is probably wrong, I know. I'm going by memory for this stuff.