"Ok…we've got bottles of water, we got a first aid kit—like you need it, "Armor-All"—and the most important of all: a package of Oreo's."
Claire grinned as Zach noted the items he was throwing into the shopping cart. She was really going to miss him. She just wished she was as sure about going on the road again.
She put her hands in her back pockets and sighed. "Well. I guess that's everything."
Zach began pushing the cart towards the register. "Are you leaving tomorrow morning?"
"Yeah. Probably first thing, just when the sun comes up."
Zach gave her a sad smile. "I'll come over and say goodbye before school."
Claire stopped the cart. "In case I don't get the chance to say this, I want to thank you for everything."
Zach chuckled. "I haven't done anything, except catch up with an old friend."
Claire put her arms around him quickly, holding him close, not in the awkward fashion of the night before.
"Oh you've done more than that," she said softly. "You've restored my faith."
They pulled away and Zach tweaked one of her curls. "Don't get all mushy on me, Claire. I'm just glad you're doing what you need to do." He didn't want her to see him sad. It wasn't meant to be; he accepted that.
They were about to head for the checkout, when the doors burst open and a tall man with a ski mask over his face walked in, pointing a pistol at anyone within range.
"Nobody move! Stay just where you are and you'll live through this!"
Claire and Zach stared at him, both frozen in fear.
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Patty was in her favorite room—number 703—when she noticed her John Doe's heart rate had sped up. She looked at his face—it was twisted into some sort of grimace. She was delighted. He was going to wake up soon, she was sure. She hoped she'd be there when it happened. Maybe she could get his number.
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Even as he was being choked, he could hear a heart beat, and it was getting louder and faster.
Sylar heard it too. "That's the sound of the real world, Gabriel. And I'm going to see it." He got closer to Gabriel's ear. "When I find Claire, I'll make sure to give her your love."
With every ounce of strength he had, Gabriel grabbed Sylar's fingers and pried them from his throat. Before Sylar could attack again, Gabriel yelled out, "The desert! I want the desert!"
And then he was there. The sun was out in its brutal force, the winds seared him. He got up from the sand he was lying in and they were there, his victims. Timid Brian. Hostile David. Sweet Charlie. Tough Dale. Volatile Ted. Shy Zane. Intuitive Isaac. They closed in around him, but this time Gabriel didn't fight them. He allowed them to draw near, because he realized that they were the key to leaving the prison of his mind.
"Sylar is trying to take over this—this world created by my consciousness," he told them. "I can't let that happen."
They were silent for a while. Then Ted said, "Why should you, or we for that matter, care at all what happens on the outside?"
Gabriel looked at them. They were broken, empty. This was his doing. As they said before, they were irrevocably at part of him.
"As far as all of you go, I'm sure you don't want what happened to you to happen to other people. Because that's what will happen if Sylar wakes up and not me. He'll just keep killing and killing. As for me, there's a great evil coming, even worse than me. I need to be there to stop it, but I can't if Sylar is in control."
They didn't appear any more convinced.
"There's someone on the outside that needs me," he told them. "Someone…I love. I can't let Sylar get to her. I can't let her end up in this desert."
"Again," Dale asked him, "why should we care? We have no power. We can't help you."
Gabriel was crestfallen. But what could he expect? He had caused these people's suffering. And for the first time since that moment of second thought before he killed Brian Davis, he wished he could take back what he'd done.
"But you can help me," Gabriel realized. "You can allow me to—to express my remorse for what I've done." He walked around the circle they'd made around him, stopping to talk to each of them directly. "I can't expect your forgiveness. The evil I've done is too great. But now, seeing all of you here, I know now that you're all a part of me. I can't escape you. I won't try.
"But I can do penance for my crimes. The world is at stake, and I can help to save it. It won't change what I've done, I know that. All I can try to do is prevent more suffering if I can."
His victims each looked at one another, hopeful, yet conflicted. At last, Isaac spoke up. "Each power that you use is a part of us. You were right about us, Gabriel: all of us lived small, trite lives, each in our own way. But if our powers help you to save the world, then your victory becomes ours."
"Then you'll help me?" Gabriel said hopefully.
Their faces were somber. "We can't help you with what you must face next," Zane said.
Gabriel was puzzled. He noticed the Victims backing away from him, breaking up the circle they had formed. Slowly he looked up. Sylar was standing a small distance away, smiling darkly.
"Time to sacrifice the lamb," he purred.
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Claire grabbed Zach by the shoulders and they got behind one of the aisles.
"Stay here," she whispered to him. She leaned out and looked at the robber, who was now demanding that the cashiers empty the contents of their registers into his bag.
She turned back to her friend. "The police will be here soon. We just need to wait this out."
"Claire," Zach said pointedly. "You can stop him."
"He's not going to hurt us as long as he gets what he wants," she argued, but then they heard yelling.
"Yo, man! Are you deaf? Open the fuckin' register!"
Cautiously, Claire walked back to the front of the store to see what had happened. At one of the last registers, the cashier, a boy not much younger than her, looked petrified. He stared at his attacker, unable to obey the command to open the register.
The man looked to another cashier. "Open the register for this dumbass!"
The middle-aged woman stammered, "I—I can't, sir. We—we all have our own c-code."
The robber groaned and turned the gun on the boy again. Claire had to act fast. Grabbing a can off of one of the displays, and praying that it would hit the target, she aimed at their assailant and threw.
Luckily (or unluckily, if she were anyone else) it hit his back and he turned around, allowing the boy to get out of the line and drop to the ground. The robber saw Claire and instantly turned the gun on her.
"What the fuck is wrong with you, bitch?" he shouted, and shot her, hitting her in the shoulder. Claire stumbled backwards and hit the floor, causing screams from fellow shoppers and employees.
Stunned, but already feeling the bullet working its way out of her, Claire weakly opened her eyes to see the robber beginning to make his way for the exit. Slowly she got up, much to the shock of those who thought she was gravely injured. People stared as the bullet worked its way out of her and dropped to the ground, while her bloody wound closed itself.
While the robber was still distracted, Claire began running, and with every ounce of strength she had, tackled him to the ground.
Just then, the police burst in, their guns trained. Claire got off of the robber and backed away as they picked him up and handcuffed him. She looked around and saw the others staring at her. For someone who'd just been shot, she was in pretty good shape.
Zach ran up to her. "You better get out of here," he told her. "Before the cops start asking questions."
The front of the store was crawling with cops, so Zach and Claire ran towards the back. Heading down a hallway, they found a door that was fortunately unlocked that led to the alley behind the store.
"I think I'm parked down this way. Boy I'm glad we parked at the neighboring lot and not the one in front!" Claire said.
"Are you…ok? I mean, you were shot," Zach said awkwardly.
Claire smirked. "You ask me. You're the one who videotaped me getting hit by a car."
Zach laughed shortly. "You're right. But you need to go."
"Right," Claire stood there, feeling like she should say something.
He relieved her of the discomfort of the situation. "You already hugged me," Zach said. "Just…go find him so you can save us all."
She smiled and touched his cheek. "Goodbye." She ran off to get the car before the police found her.
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Gabriel's eyes were burning from the desert heat, but there was no time to worry about that. The heart beat was growing louder, and he had to get out of there.
Sylar was having the same idea. He was sure he could defeat Gabriel, but he wondered how he would feel after he awoke in the real world. After all, he was a facet of a human being's consciousness. But he would rather risk psychic collapse than remain an urgent voice in the back of the mind of a nothing.
They moved in a circle, watching each other, anticipating each other's attack, like wild dogs. They could sense the presences of the Victims, standing stoically, waiting for the final judgment. Their fate was already decided, but the fate of all of those on the outside—who were like them—hung in the balance.
The stared each other down, identical pairs of eyes burning into identical faces. Then, without warning, Sylar stuck out his hand and shot a bolt of radioactive light toward his enemy. The bolt was on target and struck Gabriel in the chest. It was so fast he didn't even have time to scream.
"Ohhh," he groaned, then shrieked when he saw the smoke pouring from his chest. He couldn't move. He was sure he was going to die.
He could hear Sylar chuckling. "You know, Gabriel, I'm really doing you a favor. You never could control yourself when it came to killing. Ha, you were even going to kill that girl that reminded you of your precious little Claire."
"That's—that's not true! I wanted to help her!" Gabriel managed to gasp.
With that, Sylar used his power to raise Gabriel off the ground, then made a clenching motion with his hand to clamp down on his throat. "Don't lie, especially to me! Maybe you were…attracted to her because of her resemblance to that luscious little blonde, but in the end, you were going to slice her head open and take out the sweet treat inside."
Gabriel gurgled as the air was sucked out of his lungs. Then, all of a sudden, he could breathe again, but he was thrown to the ground hard. If this were the real world, his back would have been broken.
"Oh, I'm not letting you off that easily," Sylar sneered. He walked up to his double and planted his foot over his neck, so he couldn't even move his head. "I want you to suffer for what you've done to me."
"What have I done to you?" Gabriel whispered.
"You forgot me!" Sylar snapped. "You pushed me all the way to the darkest part of your mind, into the forest. I screamed and screamed, and soon, I couldn't even hear myself." Now he was right in Gabriel's face. "All the things I gave you: your confidence, your courage, your strength…but you couldn't stand to give me credit for it. You just…pretend that none of this ever happened!"
"I refuse to believe all my strength comes from you!" Gabriel cried. With that, he grabbed hold of the foot Sylar had on his neck and threw him off. He leapt to his feet and held out his hands.
"Snow," he said softly. And then, there it was. Soft, white flakes, swirling in the air, that had gone from dry and dusty to frosty.
Sylar laughed. "You think snow is going to stop me?" He lunged forward, and just then, Gabriel shot a burst of cold at his feet, keeping it concentrated, then moving slowly upward until Sylar's entire body up to his neck was encased in walls of ice.
"Arggh! I won't be left here with those…insects!" Sylar shouted, indicating the Victims who were now huddled together in the snow.
"They're a part of me, just like they're a part of you," Gabriel said. The heart beat had now reached its highest decibel. Everyone turned to see the desert beginning to disintegrate. They were returning to consciousness.
Gabriel turned to the Victims. "I'm sorry," he told them.
They were now holding hands and looking at him in their somber stance.
"We know. We will always be here with you, Gabriel," Charlie said.
Sylar screamed and with that, radioactive light emanated from his body. He melted the layers of ice confining him.
He ran towards Gabriel, armed with everything he had. "I won't be deprived of life!" he cried.
But Gabriel held out his arms and caught Sylar in his embrace. He held him tightly. Sylar looked at him wide-eyed. He couldn't move. Gabriel was stronger.
"I finally see it now," Gabriel whispered to his double. "I got here because I was trying to fight you. You were right all along. We need to join together. You are a part of me too."
"No!!" Sylar screamed, but it was no use. Gabriel was now in power.
It all dissolved around them. Gabriel could feel it pulling at him, tearing him apart. He closed his eyes and held on with all he had.
He eyes flew open.
He gasped.
He blinked, then realized that the beeping he was hearing were the monitors he was hooked up to. Slowly he sat up, ran his hands over his face. He was whole. He took a breath, and realized that this was the air of the real world he was inhaling.
He looked around. He was in a hospital room, and he realized he couldn't stay there. He threw back the covers with his mind, jumped out of bed, and moved to the window. He figured out how to open it, feeling the cold night air hit him. It was lovely. He jumped, even though he was up several stories, and right before he hit the ground, his telekinesis allowed him to hover a few inches. Slowly he lowered himself and ran off into the night.
This all happened just five minutes before Patty came in at her usual time to check on her favorite patient. She arrived to find an empty bed.
Slowly she walked to the nurses station and leaned against the desk. Susan looked at her sympathetically.
"He's gone, isn't he?" she asked.
"How did you know?" Patty demanded, surprised.
Susan nodded. "It's for the best, honey. Believe me."
After Patty trudged away despondently, Susan picked up the office phone and dialed.
"Yes?" a woman's voice answered.
"He's awake, Mrs. Petrelli."
There was a long pause. "I see," Angela replied. "Thank you, Susan. You've been most helpful."
"Is there—is there anything else I can do for you, ma'am?"
There was a audible exhale on the other end. "No. No, that's all I require. He's going to go after my granddaughter. Not that I'm pleased by that, but…for once, I've decided not to meddle."
"Yes, Mrs. Petrelli."
She sighed again. "Yes, thank you, Susan. Good night." She hung up.
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In spite of Claire's directions that he would not steal any longer, he felt he had no choice. He couldn't run around in a hospital gown. After grabbing a pair of trousers and a t-shirt from a small men's clothing store, he slipped back onto the street.
He was walking again on the rooftops, trying to figure out how to find Claire. It was an apartment building, and there were several of the homes that had the televisions on. In the blaring of the programs, his ears picked up something that caught his attention.
"And in Odessa, Texas, shoppers of a local drug store are buzzing about a young girl who saved them from a robbery. Supposedly she took a bullet in her shoulder but was back on her feet within seconds."
Claire.
He stole one other thing that night, but he justified it to himself that it was necessary to get to her. Shifting the Nissan Versa he found in a nearby parking garage into drive, he headed west.
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She really didn't know where she was going, but she figured the best thing to do would be to track down Molly Walker and have her locate Sylar for her. She was pretty sure she lived in Flushing with Mohinder, so that was the plan…for the time being.
As she drove that night, sleep pulling at the corners of her eyes but fighting it all the way, she could only hope that when she did find Sylar, he'd actually be happy to be found.
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Tom was exhausted. He didn't think that with all his years of doing this, something like fatigue would bother him. But he was having a hard time keeping his eyes open. He longed to go home. Tina would have dinner ready for him, he'd stretch out in the chaise lounge…
Then his eyes flew open and realized he was about to hit a car in front of him. He blew the horn and tried to swerve to avoid hitting it. He pulled the wheel so hard he started to feel the truck tip. Further and further down it was falling, and before he knew it, he was horizontal. He could hear the screaming of tires, the collective melody of horns as they blared from the disruption on the highway. There were crashes all around him as drivers ran into one another trying to avoid hitting him.
Lying there, bones broken, all Tom could think was, I'm gonna get fired.
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She was into her third day of traveling, and was now crossing into Tennessee. She just hoped that Mohinder hadn't taken Molly somewhere else; by her estimates, it was going to take her another three to four days to get to New York.
She suddenly had to hit her brakes when she saw the car in front of her just sitting there, parked. She was about to curse out the driver when she realized that all the cars in every lane were parked. Some of them were standing outside of their cars and staring. Curious, she got out of her car and walked over to a fellow driver, who had one foot in his Jetta and the other on the road.
"What's going on?" she asked.
He turned to her. "There's been a real nasty accident a couple miles up. A hazmat truck tipped over, I think. There's a bunch to people stuck in there because they crashed into one another."
Thanking him for the information, Claire gave one look to her car, still parked, and then began to run towards the accident.
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He was on route 40, crossing into Tennessee. He estimated that he'd probably be in Texas the next day, and it would just be a matter of tracking Claire down.
He slowed down when he noticed an extensive accident on the other side of the highway. A truck had tipped over, and from the looks of it, it wasn't carrying organically friendly materials inside.
He was torn. He wanted to keep going (even though it wasn't going to be a quick ride; naturally everyone had to stop and stare), but at the same time, he knew he could help.
Finally, pulling the car off to the shoulder, he charged through the thicket separating the sides of the highway.
With his advanced hearing he knew there were people that were trapped in their cars that were hurt. Trying to avoid the police and other rescue officials, he made his way to the cars that were still melded together from the impact.
Then a sight stopped him in his tracks. Blonde hair, slender frame, a worried look.
Claire.