Author's Note: If there any major errors let me know

Be My Escape:

Chapter Eight: Mending and Making Bonds

Claire's mind had come to the brilliant conclusion that she should bring an offering of donuts to Gabriel; so naturally, Gabriel is surprised to found her standing in front of his door with a smile and a box in her hands. "You like donuts?" she inquired.

"My mother would never let me eat junk food," he replied, paused a few feet away from her.

Claire raised her eyebrows. "Hel-lo," she said, shaking the box lightly to emphasize her point, "not junk food. Breakfast," she corrected. "I'll have you know it's one of the most important meals of the day."

"So people say," he replied in monotone as he stepped up to open the door, and then moved aside to let her in.

She rolls her eyes. "You're telling me you never had a donut, like, ever?" she asked as she set the box on the counter.

"Don't put them near the computer, I'm a bit tired of fixing it," he said as he flipped over the open sign.

"Gabriel, you're kidding me, right?" She moved them to the other the end of the counter and grabbed a sprinkled chocolate Bavarian cream-filled. "You never ever had a donut?"

"No."

Claire nodded firmly. "Okay, you have to try one," she picked one up and waved it in his face.

Gabriel wrinkled his nose. "You touched it," he complained.

"So?"

He looked pointedly at her. "I don't know where you hands have been."

She grabbed a napkin and picked up another. "Okay, this one has strawberry jelly. It's a fruit. Totally healthy."

He sighed. "You're not going to leave me alone until I try one, are you?"

"Nope," she replied with a cheeky smile, "now here." She shoved it in his hand and lifted it to his mouth. He stared at for a moment before biting down.

"Good, huh?" She watched as he ate it, ignoring the crumbs that fell on his chin. She grabbed another napkin and brought it up to his face. "I'll get that." His mother had done that for him all his life, and normally he would feel humiliated, but the emotions that rose in him as she gently wiped his face did not include embarrassment. He gently pushes her arm away.

"I am capable of cleaning my own face," he reminded her. Claire is staring at him with shock, surprised at what she had just done. She hadn't even thought about what she was doing, and now that she thought about it, she realized she had wanted a reason to touch him.

"I didn't mean it like that," she told him. "I just wanted to help."

Gabriel paused, an idea—ridiculous and inappropriate, but still incredibly tempting—struck him. "Yes, well, let me return the favor," he told her, picking up a napkin and brushing it against Claire's chin, where some of the cream had stuck to her skin.

Claire's heart began pounding faster in her chest. "Thanks," she croaked. Despite internally chastising himself, Gabriel smiled, unaware of the effect he had on her. He had to retreat, to think about this latest development, before he could face her again.

"I will be in the back and you can run the register again." Before Claire could even think of something to say, Gabriel had disappeared behind the door.

"Okay," she murmured to an empty room.

Dr. Chandra Suresh searched his entire apartment for that vanilla folder. It was nowhere to be found. He supposed he shouldn't worry too much—most people would not be aware of what the list was for if they had found anyway—but it was still a list of private phones numbers and addresses. Most people wouldn't be too happy to know he had such a thing.

He stuffed the papers he had back into the drawer. He sighed, knowing he couldn't waste anymore time searching for it. His research needed him. His daughter needed him to complete it.

He returned to his computer, going over the data once more. The changes he made just didn't seem to fit, and Mr. Gray's lack of ability didn't fit period. He should have had one, but right now he had none. His gaze went back to the notes that he'd made from Brian's claims. Now he fit the original equation, which was if his abilities were real. The man had sounded very distressed—perhaps he could be suffering from a delusion?—but Dr. Suresh would meet with him none-the-less, when he got the chance. For now, he only had about thirty minutes before going on another shift. He had been busy working for a taxi company, along with a couple of classes he taught at the university. Despite the fact that being a taxi driver wasn't a profession he was proud of, the truth was, teaching alone wasn't enough to cover his expenses, and he needed the money to meet with Brian.

Someone knocked on his door. "Come in, the door is open," he called, distractedly.

"I don't think leaving the door open is such a wise thing to do around this place, Father," Mohinder stated, stepping on a couple of cockroaches on his way in.

Chandra sighed tiredly. "If you come to try and talk me out of my research again—"

"No, Father," Mohinder replied. "As crazy as it sounds, I've come to help." At his father's surprised expression, Mohinder added, "I want to try to understand why this is so important to you."

"Well, than perhaps you can figure out what is wrong with my formula. I cannot seem to figure out."

"Oh," Mohinder made his way over and looked over his father's formula. "It seems fine," he said after a few minutes of perusal. "What seems to be the problem?"

"The problem is that Mr. Gray doesn't fit," Chandra said with no small frustration. "He does not have an ability."

Mohinder refrained from making the comment that of course he wouldn't, people with abilities don't exist! Instead he said, "Father, all experiments have outliers."

"That's true, but he was my first test subject."

"But there is no way of telling where outlier may occur," Mohinder argued, "especially when human beings are involved. There are so many variables to account for."

"Yes, well, then perhaps there isn't anything wrong," Chandra mused. "I'm off to work for now, but you are welcome to stay here and look over my notes."

"I will," Mohinder told him.

"And if you find a vanilla folder containing a list of names and addresses, please let me know. Here is my cell phone number." With that, Dr. Suresh headed out the door to work.

Blinking a few moments at the quick and painless conversation, Mohinder turned back to the computer. "He is so much more compliant when you are not arguing with him," he remarked.

Matt stepped in FBI headquarters and made his way to the lady at the desk. "May I help you?" she asked with a small smile.

Smiling back, he replied, "Yes, I would like to inquire about a young girl in FBI custody. Her name's Molly Walker."

She pressed a button at her desk. "Hello sir, there is a Mr…"

"Parkman."

"Parkman," she continued, "wanting to know about a Miss Walker."

The phone suddenly rang, and she picked up the receiver. "Sir?" she questioned with a confused frown. "Yes. Uh-huh. I understand, sir." She put the phone down. "Miss Walker has been brought in for questioning, after which she will be given over to social workers."

"But she already has a place to stay," Matt informed her. "We already worked something out with social services."

The lady smiled apologetically at him. "I'm just telling you what they told me, Mr. Parkman," she reminded him.

"Just let me talk to her?" he pleaded. "Just to make sure she isn't scared."

"Look, sir," I don't understand why he can't see her either, but protocol is protocol, "I'm just relaying a message, that's all I know." That and she is on floor 3, interrogation room 3. What a horrible place to keep a little girl.

Matt faked a sigh. "I understand."

"Sorry," she apologized.

He walked out the door and got out sight. This thing, this power—whatever it was—was completely new to him, but if it was real, maybe he can use it to make sure Molly was okay. It was strange that the FBI was interested in a little girl, and instead of questioning her in an environment she was already familiar with, they dragged her away.

Why?

His instincts had told him something was up. Whether he liked it or not, that girl had become his responsible. He would use his power to find a way in, he just had to find the right person…

Peter was having difficulty sleeping. His mind had been surrounded with thoughts about Simone, and about the incident on the roof. He had known what happened.

Nathan had flown.

It hadn't seemed fair to him, because Peter was the one with the dreams and Peter the one that wanted to fly so badly, and instead, it had been Nathan—the brother who didn't believe such things was possible. How was it that his brother actually could do such an amazing thing and think that it completely impossible, yet Peter could not and was damn sure it was real?

He needed to clear his head, so he grabbed his coat, made his way downstairs and slipped in the back of a taxi. He leaned back. "Central park."

"Yes, sir," the driver replied. Peter detected an accent, and with a glance at the mirror to peek at the driver, he saw the Indian heritage on the other man's face. "Fifteen minutes."

"Yeah," Peter said, his stare moving to the window as he tried to collect his thoughts.

"May I inquire as to what is bothering you?" the driver asked suddenly.

Peter smiled ruefully. "Do you think it is possible for someone to have special abilities?"

He didn't notice the man's expression become first surprised, then speculative. "Of course, we are always evolving and as of now we only use ten percent of our brain. Imagine the possibilities if we used more."

Peter glanced up at the badge hanging up in the window. "Mr. Sueresh, is it?"

"Yes," Chandra confirmed. "I am a scientist. My particular interest is the evolution of human beings and the possible changes that occur. Have you read my book?"

Bewildered at the sudden turn of events, Peter stammered, "Uh, I don't think so. What's it called?"

"Activating Evolution."

Peter smiled. "I think I might look into it."

When he opened his eyes, Isaac didn't recognize his surroundings at first, but he did recognize a particular painting of a cheerleader. She was running away in darkness, trees illuminated by a street light. In the next panel was a man with glasses, the watchmaker who was right behind her, his face twisted in anger. The third panel was a boy on the ground, who appeared to be scurrying away in complete fear.

Somehow Isaac had felt as the picture was a complete misrepresentation of what was actually occurring. He could not remember most of his paintings due to the drugs, and so had no memory of what might actually be going on in the picture. Other than the picture, he had no recall of how he ended up on small cot with an uncomfortable plastic mattress in a plain gray room. Nor did he have any idea the identity of the woman sitting at his bedside, wiping his sweat off.

"How are you doing? I imagine not very well. I'm Eden by the way."

"Eden," he echoed distractedly, "where I am?" He pulled himself up and she helped him.

"Well I am afraid I can't tell you that, but you are safe."

"I don't know you, how can possibly believe that."

"Hey you don't have to but it is lot better than not right?"

He stared at her for a moment, "Do you at least know why I am here?"

She pointed to the picture, "We need you to paint for us some more, we do find out more about that image."

"I can't, not without the drugs,"

"You are going to have to," She replied, "You don't want your drugs."

"No I don't want my drugs I will do it without them," he sounded somewhat in a trance.

"Good, I'll get you some supplies," She said as she walked out the door.

"Wait!" It was too late she was already out the door.

"How long am I going to be stuck here?" He asked anyway, "What if I can't paint? What are you going to do with me than?"

Ando was annoyed. Of all the places they could end up in, Hiro put them smack dab in the middle of nowhere. It was extremely irritating—they could've ended up in Vegas; or more specifically, that hot blonde's place. Ando could've finally seen her in person! But no… They had to appear in front of a cutesy diner with a name that didn't seem very flattering. The Burnt Toast. If people in America thought that was a great name, well…

He'll never understand Americans.

"I do not understand," Hiro stated, his face scrunching up. "Why did my powers take me here?" He stepped back to observe the small diner. "I should have appeared in New York," he muttered to himself. It mystified him, what could he possibly do here in this tiny town? Hiro had an unshakeable belief in the concept of Destiny, and he could understand that this unlikely place had something to do with it. But how was he going to save New York from here? What was in here that was so important?

"I don't know," Ando replied, "but let's try going somewhere else. Maybe if you focus harder, we can go to Vegas."

Hiro pulled back his shoulders and held his head high. "No," he said firmly. "I will follow the path Destiny has prepared for me." He marched to the door and pulled it open, stepping into the diner.

"Hello," one of the waitresses—an elderly lady—greeted in a southern accent. Her eyes took in their foreign looks. "What brings you folks here?" she asked.

"Destiny," Hiro answered. Ando rolled his eyes as the lady stared at him confused.

"Glad that destiny has brought you here." Both Hiro and Ando started upon hearing the soft voice that had spoken in Japanese. Turning, they found a petite redhead giving them a polite smile.

Hiro smiled back widely, thrilled that he didn't have to bumble through the difficult English language. "You know Japanese?" he asked. He could not believe his luck, finding someone in this place that understood him.

"Yes, I read it in book a while ago," she replied with her sweet smile as if it was no big deal, but Hiro was surprised because had been tried to learn English for years and was still having difficulties in the basics of it.

He bowed in greeting, remembering his manners. "You must be very smart," he praised, not noticing the other woman walk away.

She tilted her head a little embarrassed. "No not really, I just remember everything I read. Something I able to do recently, it is little odd but comes in really handy you know starting conversations with the folks who come here."

Hiro suddenly understood that Destiny had brought him here because of this young woman. "Ah you have a gift," he announced happily.

"I suppose so," she agreed reluctantly.

"Yes, so do I." Hiro's excitement took over and he ended up knocking over the salt. Charlie giggled a little bit, and for some reason he felt so warm inside. "Sorry," he apologized.

"It's fine," she assured him, "no harm done." She put the salt back into its proper place.

"Do you folks want something to eat?"

"We don't have American money," Ando stated in English, who had observed the situation in great annoyance. He hoped that Hiro would use his powers soon, but the man believed it was destiny. Ando always thought his destiny was to marry Hiro's sister, but that wasn't happening, so really, was there such a thing as fate?

"Oh, well don't worry. It's on the house," the redhead replied, surprising the two Japanese men, who bowed politely in response.

"You are most kind."

"We're all kinda like that here, you know…being in a small town and all. So what did you want?"

"Waffles!" Hiro said excitedly. Ando rolled his eyes.

When business started to slow down again, Claire made her way to the back. "So," she began, leaning against the doorframe.

Gabriel glanced up at her briefly. "Yes? I am working here," he pointed out.

"We both know what I am going to inquire," she said, slightly pouting when he didn't put his attention on her.

"Oh?" He replaced the face of the watch carefully; his hands steady as he worked.

"Please!" She approached him quickly, making him stop what he was doing in fear of disorganizing his work. She clasped her hands together and slightly bent her knee and mock begged. "Please, help me with my math."

Gabriel sighed, pulling off the eye piece on his head. "I see you kept your promise."

Claire shrugged. "Well, now you know I'm reliable."

"As well as annoyingly persistent," he added.

An unrepentant grin broke out on her face. "Yeah, well, what can I say? It helps me get what I want," she added cheekily.

Gabriel was unable to hide the amusement in his eyes. "Yes, I have noticed that."

Claire smiled wider. "So does that mean you'll do it?"

He rolled his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I did not say that. Besides I've never tutored anyone before."

"So, if you don't try, you don't succeed."

He shook his head. "I don't really care if I succeed at or not at tutoring, Claire."

"Yes, but you care if I do well or not, don't you?" she asked. "So you should try so I can succeed."

He rolled his eyes again. "Claire, I don't have much education beyond high school. I only went to college for a month."

"Still more than me," she pointed out. "That makes you totally perfect for teaching me."

"I don't think so," Gabriel said, putting on the eyepiece and turning back to the nearly finished watch. "We have work to do."

Claire huffed quietly, frustrated with him. "I totally can't fail math!" she cried. "I'll be taken off the cheerleading team!"

Gabriel sighed. "Surely there is someone else you can ask?"

Claire shook her head fervently. "No. Come on, I'll get to spend more time with you here."

"And that is supposed to be a convincing reason for me to tutor you?"

"Yes!" She narrowed her eyes, a though occurring to her. "Should I try getting hit by a car again?"

Gabriel's mood fell flat. "Don't joke about that."

Claire shivered at his tone. "Relax, okay? I'm not going to. I'll just use my other power of persuasion."

Despite himself, Gabriel was unable to resist asking. "Which is?"

Claire smiled wickedly. "Begging," she said, falling to her knees. "Please, please, please!" She put her hands together and pouted lightly. Of course, she was totally faking it, knowing it was only a matter of time before he gave in. She was so going to win this.

Gabriel was going down.

"Please, please, please, please, please!"

Gabriel huffed moodily, her pleading grating on his nerves. "You're not going to leave me alone until I say yes, are you?"

She paused mid-'please'. "You know I won't."

He almost smiled. "Fine."

Claire squealed, leaping onto her feet to hug him. His eyes widened at the sudden contact. "Thank you!" she cried and then realized she had been hugging him. Releasing him quickly, she didn't bother hiding her blush. "Sorry, I guess you're not okay with the hugging thing."

"It's…all right," he replied. The only people he remembered hugging him who weren't his mother were old ladies and various family members who only made a brief appearances in his life. "I was just a little surprised."

"Okay…" she muttered, glancing out the small window. Spotting a familiar car, she said, "Hey, I think that's my mom. I guess I'll see you later."

Gabriel nodded, already turning back to the watch on his bench. "Drive safe."

"Thanks," Claire said with a warm smile as she strode out the door. Pausing as a thought occurred to her, she yelled back, "Oh, you'll have to meet my teacher, by the way! Bye!" Gabriel's attention was off the watch instantly.

"Wait, what?"

When the door opened, interrupting the conversation he'd been having, Nathan was ready to snap at the moronic worker who didn't have the courtesy to knock. But instead of a moronic worker, he was surprised to recognize his own brother striding into his office. "Pete, what are doing here?"

"I wanted to talk to you," Peter said firmly. He came for an answer and he was going to get it.

"Pete, I'm kind of busy," Nathan said as he was handed the latest poll results.

"This is important," Peter insisted.

"So is this Pete," Nathan sighed.

Peter's lips thinned. "Nathan, this is important to me. Can't you listen to me for one minute?" he pleaded.

Nathan nodded. "I'm listening."

"Tell me what really happened on the roof."

Nathan stilled visibly. "I told you, all I know is that you tried to commit suicide."

"Nathan, I know that's not what I did. I remember what happened. You were the one that flew."

Nathan turned to him completely, surprising Peter as his brother put his hands on his shoulders. "Pete, stop talking nonsense. You know what? You need another job."

"I have a job," Peter said with a frown. "A good job."

"Yeah, but it doesn't pay much does it. Why don't you come work with me?" Nathan told him, but Peter heard the undertone of patronization in his brother's voice and it stroked his anger.

"I doubt having your suicidal brother on board would help your campaign," he snarled.

Nathan's face fell. "Oh come on, Pete, don't be like that—" But Peter had had enough.

"I gotta go," he said, turning on his heel and pushing past the various interns moving around the large room. Nathan watched him leave with a heavy heart and a tired expression on his face.

Hiro had studied the comic book over and over, looking for clues where to go next. There wasn't much there. So far, all he'd concluded was that the bad man Hiro had met was not going to be the one to blow the world. That there were others with powers like his—a senator, a cheerleader, a hospice nurse, a watchmaker, and an array of unlikely people to ever meet each other—were somehow connected to each other. He had yet to figure out what that connection could be, but there was one…it was all part of his destiny.

Ando sighed out of frustration as he watched Hiro flip through the thin stack of sheets again. He leaned close, "Hiro, why don't you use your power and take us home."

"No, they brought us here for a reason and must discover what that is," he replied as he pushed his glasses up.

"Don't be stupid, you just ended up here, because you don't know how to control your powers yet."

"Boys," an elder and sweet voice called, "Did you figure out what you going to do?" She her hand on her hips and a big old smile on her face as she asked. "How did you boys end up here anyway?"

"It was destiny!" Hiro exclaimed which caused his companions eyes to roll. "There is a reason and we will stay here." He slammed his hand down, and quickly pulled it away when he realized his stupidity as the pain ran up his hand.

"Well, boys do you even have a place to stay?"

The once confident new hero's head fell into a position of defeat, "No,"

"Well," that sweet young southern voice came to his rescue, "Then I guess you can stay with me and Rick could use some help with heavy lifting couldn't he?" The older woman shook her head at Charlie's bright smile.

"Yes, he could," The redhead grinned brighter and jumped with glee.

"Well then guess you boys can stay with me for awhile. I just got a couple things to take care of first," She then quickly disappeared and Hiro found himself with a feeling wrapped in excitement and nervousness.

"Boys," they both looked up at now serious big woman, "Our Charlie has a got heart of gold…." Ando gulped because felt some scary thing were coming by the way that woman was looking at them. What trouble had his friend gotten them into? "People sometimes take advantage of that, I'll let you know either of you thinking of doing such a thing will see why Southern women are never scorned." Ando was frightened but Hiro just bowed his head and folded his hands. Though the older waitress had no clue what he had said she was strongly satisfied by his words.

"We will not bring dishonor to such a wonderful woman."

"Good,"

Madeline had already known where Gabriel worked and where he lived and that he sometimes went to that comic book store on the corner. She knew everything about him.

She had to.

She made her way inside the shop, holding a piece of paper in her hand and pretending she didn't already know all she could about him. "Mr. Gray?"

Gabriel looked over, setting down the antique wooden clock he'd been fixing. "May I help you?" he asked, leaning over. His eyes found her wristwatch and he watched as it ticked a few moments late. "Your watch is broken…and also a rare piece."

"Yes, it is and I'm not here to have it fixed either. I have it for sentimental reasons," she replied.

"I'll have no problem replacing the cover and…" He really does have his power. He is obsessing over the watch even though I already said it didn't need fixing, and he is already trying to figure out what is wrong with it.

"Mr. Gray, the break is more important to me than the actual watch." Her mind flashed back on an old memory: "I'm sorry, mommy. It was an accident. I just wanted to show Janie and…"She had been looking at her own brown eyes that day.

"Oh God," She fell down to her knees and wrapped her arms around him, "Forget, the watch baby, don't ever run out like that on me again. I didn't know where you were!"

"I see, what have you come to see me for then?" He hoped she wasn't there to tell him something like Dr. Suresh had.

"You know a student of mine. Claire Bennet."

"Yes, I know Claire." He's calling her by her first name. This is good.

"Well, she told me that you are going to tutor her," she smiled politely.

Gabriel did not know why, but he felt as he seen that smile somewhere before. And her voice he heard it once before, but from where? What are doing? The voices screamed out in his head and sounded severely desperate. He shook his head.

"Are you alright?" She tilted her head, her brown eyes searched his face for signs of distress.

"Yes, I'm fine… I'm going to try to tutor her, yes."

"Well, good, I'm sure you will do fine," She seemed so confident in what she said. "I just wanted to discuss a few things with you, like what you might focus on and see what your plans were."

"She only asked me a few days ago. I haven't quite figured everything out."

"That's actually great because now I can help give you a starting point. If that's alright."

"I don't see a problem with that," he assured her, relieved that he didn't have to go searching for material randomly.

"Good," she smiled again, and Gabriel was sure he'd seen that smile somewhere before, sure he already knew her. He simply couldn't put his finger on it, and he supposed that if she had remembered him, she would have said something. Maybe he'd met her in college? Had she been a professor or an older student there? If so, it didn't surprise him that she forgot about him. Most people probably did not give him much thought. What did it matter if he knew her? But still, he felt as though she had been important to him.

They discussed some topics for several minutes on what Claire had to work on and she was very helpful on giving him tips on how to tutor Claire. They finished soon enough. "Well then, just write down the hours on when you and Claire work with your signature and have her bring it to me, and that will be it." She held out her hand and he quickly shook it. It felt so familiar to him. "I'm sure you'll be a big help."

"I'm not certain of that, but I'm willing to try."

"I have faith that you will succeed, G…Mr. Gray." She shot him another smile as she walked out the door. Madeline took a deep breath before heading to her car. She almost slipped up, although she fixed that one quickly, but still…it was probably best that she didn't make any more contact for a while, no matter how badly she wanted to. She fiddled with her watch. "I promise, baby. I won't fail this time. Never again."

"So we'll go to my house, work on the project, make this as painless as possible," Claire proposed, glancing at her companion.

"My thoughts exactly," Zach agreed as he gripped his book bag.

When they arrived, Claire's mom was surprised to see him. "Zach!" Sandra exclaimed. "I haven't seen you in a while."

Zach felt awkward, not wanting to hurt her feelings. "Oh yeah, I've been busy," he replied. How do you tell somebody's mom that their daughter just decided they weren't good for her reputation?

Sandra gave him a warm smile. "So are you staying for dinner?" she asked.

"No, Mom, we're here just to work on a project," Claire told her.

"Well, you are welcome to stay," Sandra assured him.

"Well, my mom's expecting to come home right after," Zach excused.

"Alright," Sandra smiled, but there was no ignoring her disappointment. "Maybe some other time then."

"Yeah maybe," he said politely, even though he knew that wasn't going to happen.

"Uh…" Claire could feel the air of awkwardness all around here and she wanted to get out of it quick. "We're just gonna be working in the living room, Mom."

"Alright, I'll be in the kitchen working on supper," Sandra replied and, with another smile at him, she disappeared into the other room. Claire led Zach into the living room and dropped her bag onto the floor. "Okay…" They both sat down, "so, uh, what do you think we should do our project on?"

"I don't know, I was kind of thinking," he pulled out his laptop, "maybe we could do some kind of video and you could write a script. We could like, do our own version of the Salem Witch Trials. But not like, serious trials or anything. Something funny or interesting instead."

"Okay, but won't we need more actors?" Claire asked.

"No, no," Zach answered, "we can act all the parts ourselves." He shot her a grin. "The benefits of editing."

"All right," Claire nodded."So what do you think we should do in the trials?"

"I don't know," Zach shrugged. "I haven't thought that far yet. You wanna do something ridiculous like accuse someone of double dipping or something?"

"No, we should do something like someone wore the wrong outfit to a party. You could dress like a girl," she teased.

"No way, any girl parts are yours, but I do think you maybe onto something about a crime of fashion."

Clarie suddenly became excited. "We should call it a crime of Passion against Fashion."

"Yeah, that actually sounds good," Zach agreed. "So we should like, outline a script."

"Okay," Claire said, "So we will need the fashion police, maybe a reporter…"

"We could do the whole video like it's a report," Zach nodded, "I'll be the reporter then."

"Okay, so what should the crime of passion be?"

"Well, a crime of passion is usual something to do with like, love or something…" Zach trailed off uneasily.

"Oh," Claire said. "Um, so maybe uh, someone passionate about fashion kills someone?" Zach stared at her blankly, wondering where she got that idea, and shook his head.

This project was doomed.

Angela stared at a letter in her hand. There was no way it could be her. This woman was dead, killed by her own husband!

But as she stared down at the hand writing, it was impossible to ignore. The curves of each letter intertwined with the other and had been gracefully put on paper by the dance of the pen. The thickness, the width, the length of each letter written that could only be written by her, the paper it was written on was the same kind of stationary she always used…

Of course most of this could be explained. It was highly probably that someone else could write in the same style and use the same stationary, but the thing that made even Angela's brown eyes widened slightly were the words itself. There was only one person who had that kind of write style and would use those particular phrases. Just one person that Angela had known and once upon time of given her life to, but that person was dead, so it couldn't be her…

She read the letter again.

Dear Lala,

The name used, only one woman had ever called by that name, the truest friend she had when she had gone to college, Amanda Hillson. She had been known as Amanda Gray for the last forty years or so, but Angela had always known her as Mandy. The name Lala—people would probably laugh to known she had such a nickname—had come from when Angela refused to join to Choir with her.

"Come on! It'll be fun!" Mandy insisted with a grin.

"Choir is waste of time. I need to focus on my studies and the preparations for the wedding," she replied monotonously as they walked to their next class.

"Oh come, Angela! There's more to life than weddings and books! It's just choir! It's not as if I'm asking you to go down town and hook up with some strange man."

"It is no less a waste of time."

She rolled her eyes. "What is so bad about singing? It'll be good for you! And you might like it." A wide, mischievous grin spread her lips. "We might have to call you lala just to get your attention."

"Don't be ridiculous," she bristled indignantly.

"But it's such a perfect name, Angela-la-la," Mandy teased.

A pinched expression seized her face. "You are not to call me by such name again!" Angela demanded.

"Lala, lala!" She danced around in front of her, laughing at Angela's twitching eye. "Lala!"

Angela could still hear laughter in her ears. She went back to reading the letter.

We have not spoken in such a long time have we? I suppose death has that effect on friendships. Though, I believe your betrayal was probably the fork in my grave. She refused to think about that memory, Mandy had been her only friend and Angela herself had cut the strings. But I am not here to dwell on such things of the past. They are only memories that make us who we are, not who we will be.

It was always something she had said whenever one of their friends was worried about something in the past ruining their new reputations. Reputations had always seemed so important to her, but not to Mandy. "If I live my life by what everyone else wants I'll never be happy." Angela saw the truth in those words—the days she was happy were few and far in between. She had a life of meaning, but enjoyment was hard to find.

I've written to you as a warning, to a once-upon-a-time friend. I am going to interfere with your plans. I have not cared for a long time what you do, because my only concern was my child. I won't let you hurt him. As usual, you think you know best, but I have gained quite an extraordinary ability—something much clearer than dreams. I know you are surprised. Me with an ability? You know I never had one before.

She had been surprised, Mandy had always loved Angela's gift never made her feel different normal, but she had wanted one herself, secretly. She tried to hide it but the desire was always there.

Mandy looked up at the stars, a hand on her swollen belly. "There is so much more you and he will be able to do then me." She gazed downward. "But I can do this. I know I can."

"Of course you can. You'll make a wonderful mother," Angela said, gently patting her on the back. "You should know, sometimes these gifts carry a curse as well. I wish I didn't see the things that I do all the time."

"I know, but there is so much you have to do."

It was a sad fact that Amanda Gray had been on the other end of her own husband's cursed gift. The horror of her death still haunted Angela. She had seen her best friend's death—it was part of the plan, after all—so she held onto the belief that her friend's death was great sacrifice. And yet… She held the letter close.

I wish I could have spared my son a lot of pain. It took me years to get back here. I won't explain how, and I don't have to explain why. I'm back, and I won't let you destroy his life. I don't care about your plans. I only care about him. I know you understand—I believe you would sacrifice anything for your sons, especially Peter.

You didn't think I knew, did you? It was obvious you always pretended to favor Nathan, but it is written on your face every time you look at Peter. You knew he would do great things, so you sacrificed your relationship with your youngest son, believing that it was what had to be done for him to become the man he was meant to be.

I won't lie. He has become great, but I believe he would have become so, regardless of whether you showed your love or not. He has a big heart, and it was only meant to grow bigger. I understand why you did the things you did. You believed it was either Peter's life or Gabriel's. I believe I can save them both. Let us see who can make checkmate.

With Understanding and No Less Love,

Mandy Gray

Angela could even smell the sweet perfume that she always wore. Somehow, someway, it seemed that Amanda Gray had risen from the grave and was going to interfere with everything they done. After all the sacrifices that were made, the friendship Angela destroyed, the life she allowed to be taken, she still would not let her friend have what she desired. She would have to carry yet another burden. Her friendship with Mandy always fell just underneath the importance of the company's mission and her family.

Zach was making notes in his laptop while Claire went to get snacks. She brought a tray of pizza rolls and sat it down. "You want a soda or something?"

"What do you got?"

"Code red, Mtn. Dew, Pepsi, and Diet Pepsi."

"Mountain Dew," he answered as he scrolled down a website for pictures.

She came back with the sodas and sat next to him. "So what are you working on?"

"I was looking for some effects to maybe add to the video, and scrolling for some ideas."

"Yeah, well, we already have the basic idea. I was wondering if I should wear something completely horrendous or something that looks good and has a small thing wrong with it."

"The small thing," Zach decided, not even looking up from the screen. "We want the accuser to seem ridiculous."

"Yeah, but is it going to be enough for two people?" Claire wondered. "Don't we need someone else to be the accuser?"

"Yeah, well, that's why I was looking for some clips. I figured we could do that," he said, pointing to an image of blond girl screaming and saying, "That is so wrong!"

Claire giggled. "Yeah, that is funny. So should we have the same girl or several different…" There was a thump.

"What was that?" Zach wondered.

"Something probably just fell," Claire replied, not worried at all. "I'll go make sure nothing expensive broke real quick."

"Maybe I should go with?" Zach said, already standing up.

"Oh, how sweet want to keep the monsters from attacking me," Claire teased.

"Nah." He pulled out his camera. "I just want to record it."

Claire rolled his eyes and made her way upstairs.

Peter arrived at the hospital a few minutes early and made his way up the stairs. He would be picking up a woman name Irene whose family, while not in possession of the same fortune as Simone's father, basically paid him to keep her out their hair. He hated families like that. He'd never do that to his mother.

On the elevator, he pressed the button for the third floor. Next to him was a pretty blonde with files in her hand and earphones in her ears. Her nametag read Emma. He nodded her way, but she hadn't noticed as she headed out the doors. After that, it was a matter of seconds before he arrived on the third floor.

He made his way to the nurse's station and gave a warm smile. "I'm here to pick up a patient Irene Wilson."

"Let's see here," the nurse's blue eyes traveled down the screen. "Yes, are you Mr. Petrelli?"

"Yeah," he nodded, offering a folder to her, "and here's all the paperwork."

She quickly glanced through it. "Seems all right. Wait here a moment. I'll have a nurse bring her out." She picked up the phone and paged someone. A few moments later, a man was pushing an elderly lady with the brightest grin Peter had ever seen.

Peter smiled back. "Hello Mrs. Wilson. I'm here to pick you up. My name is Peter Petrelli." He held his out and her frail fingers grasped it.

"It is a delight to meet you, young Peter."

"The pleasure is mine. Are you ready to get out of here?" he asked.

"Oh yes, I can't wait to get home, though I'll miss being surrounded by Angels."

"Angels?" he questioned.

The male nurse leaned in his ear. "She thinks she could see them. We tried giving medication, but it just makes her sick, and she hasn't done anything harmful, so we just kind of ignore it." Peter nodded in agreement and begun to push her out.

"You know just because I'm old woman does not mean I'm senile. I know that people don't think I see them but I do. Some of them are very sad."

Peter obliged her. "Why is that?"

"They cannot go back home for some reason. Well…not usually," she amended.

Peter opened up the car door and helped her in. "What do you mean 'not usually'?"

"Well, there was this one beautiful angel who was very sad because she be with her son, I'll she could do was watch him from a very but now…somehow she found away to be among the living again."

Peter stopped what he was doing, intrigued. "What, are you talking about ghosts?" Remembering himself, Peter buckled himself up and turned on the car.

"I suppose that's what some would say, but I felt like they were always watching over us like Angels. That is all most of them can do. This one, though, found a way to…I guess it is called possession."

Peter might have thought she was crazy, but if he believed he could fly, maybe she could see the dead.

But someone taking over a body?

Matt had managed to get into the interrogation room, but not exactly the way he planned. A blonde woman had brought him here with the persuasion of a gun. He was now being questioned and accused and he didn't like it one bit.

"Tell me how you found the girl?" Aubrey asked, planting her hands on the table as she glared at him. He has got to be part of the company.

"I told you, I heard her and found her under the steps of her house." He wondered what the company was, but decided to keep quiet about it for now.

"There is no way you could have heard her unless she was screaming," she insisted. He had to know where she was, he had to have been the one to hide her, but…the little girl was so happy to see him. Why would she be happy to see her captor?

"Well maybe she was," Matt sighed. "Look, all that passed like a blur! I can't be sure how I found her. I just did."

She tossed the statement he had given at the station in front of him. "When the other officers saw her she barely spoke a word, and you said she was hiding.
If she was hiding, why would she be screaming?"

"So someone could find her," he replied, the silent 'duh' not going unnoticed by the already irate cop.

"She didn't know that the bad men had gone away yet."

"Maybe she knew the women were gone because she could not hear them anymore."

"And how did you know that the captors were women?" I think we may have another case involving the secret company again.

"Who is the secret company?" Matt finally demanded, unable to stop his curiosity.

Aubrey looked alarmed. "Where did you hear that name?"

"You just told me," Matt said.

"I didn't say anything." This guy has been trying to make detective… Maybe he made a deal with the company…

"I don't know who the company is," Matt insisted.

"How did you know the name then? And that they were women?" Aubrey leaned down again, glaring at him. "I think you were working for them. Got a little frustrated that you weren't making detective, or maybe money was tight. So you help them catch these people and offered to keep the cops off their tracks."

Matt gaped incredulously at her. "That's the most ridiculous thing I ever heard."

Aubrey ignored him, continuing her theory. "You got a guilty conscience so you hid the girl and made yourself look like a hero."

"No, I found her under the stairs!" Matt cried.

"If you don't start talking I'm going to have you arrested in accessory to kidnapping,"Aubrey threatened.

Fed up, Matt threw his hands in the air. "Fine, you want the truth? The truth is I can read thoughts. I don't know how or why but I can."

This guy is wack job, Aubrey thought, wrinkling her nose with disbelief.

Matt smirked, an idea gripping him. "Okay, think of a number 1 between a million."

I can't believe this…"Fine," Aubrey sighed. 1979. The year I was born.

"1979," he repeated, "that was year you were born."

How did he…

"I told you I don't know how," Matt reminded her.

Aubrey shook her head. "Okay, so that's a nifty trick, but there is no way you can read minds."

Matt rolled his eyes. "Fine. Think of somebody nobody else knows about you and that cannot be found on the Internet."

She rolled her eyes, "Fine, you want to play this game, let's." She closed her eyes trudging through strings of thoughts looking for a specific memory. I know I'm going to be a laughing stock now. This is so stupid, the guys here don't take me seriously enough about the company. They all think this assignment is just were the bosses send the people they don't how to deal with, but I know the company exists, I do. Uh, what about no way, do I want anyone to know about that. Too late, if he can really read my mind. She focused on the memory.

Matt's face fell at her selection. "So…you got drunk and slept with the basketball star and you were pissed he didn't remember." She blushed and her glare turned harsher. "Hey, not judging here, I've done worse. And I know how it feels to feel like everyone is laughing at you."

Jesus, he really can read minds… "Alright," she replied, "let's test this thing out. I don't care if you really can read minds or not, but you might actually have something I could use."

Matt waited to see what she was going to say.

"How would you like to work for the F.B.I.?"

Elle briefly wondered if that bastard Noah had known it was going to rain or had some post-human make it rain, along with causing her car to break down. It all seemed like a little tooe much, but Noah insisted that they needed to see the extent of his abilities. How could they see it when they had no fucking clue what it was?

Of course, Angela told them so, blah, blah, and yeah Elle needed to look pathetic so she could play the damsel in distress. Ha! Her, a damsel in distress? Daddy had made sure she was anything but that. Her life kind of sucked, being locked away like Rapunzel in a tower and only let out to kill. It kind of messes with your head a bit, but Elle was no damsel in distress. She sure could play it, though.

"Damn," she yelled loudly. "My car won't run!" She turned around to see the shop. "Oh, perhaps there is someone inside who can help me."

Okay, so maybe she was overdoing it just a bit, but whatever.

She opened up the door to see Mr. Gray and thought that he doesn't look so bad close up. He's actually kind of cute. "Excuse me," her voice was laced with distress, hair was clinging wetly to her face. "I'm so sorry, but my car," she pointed outward, "just broke down. Can you help me?"

Gabriel stared at her for a moment. She was pretty, more petite and lean then Claire, but still quite nice to look at. This would be one of the few times a girl like her would talk to him. No. He had enough stresses in his life with Claire around, he didn't need another. "I'll call a tow truck if you like." He picked up the phone.

Elle thought fast. They needed to see him at work. She put on hand on the telephone and sent a current frying the phone.

"That would be nice," she nodded innocently.

"Ow," Gabriel exclaimed after a slight shock hit his fingers. "It seems my phone has been put out of commission." He mused about it for a moment. "I'll just take a quick look."

"Oh, that would be so nice," she clasped her hands together in a gesture of gratitude. He nodded a bit stiffly and she briefly thought he was a strange. He made his way to the car and immediately somehow he just understood what was wrong.

"Hmm, I think I can fix this. Let me get some tools from the shop," he glanced at her again. It was rather impolite to leave a lady out in the rain. "You should come in and stay for awhile. I'll fix your car."

"Uh thanks." She was surprised by his sincerity, and she had meant her thanks. Before she realized it, her act had faded away and everything she had supposed to be pretending at would become real. Had she known she was going to fall in love, perhaps she would have stayed inside the facility she had been raised in.

Claire found Jackie standing in her room. "What are you doing here Jackie? And why are using my window," Claire glared at her.

"Getting the Freak." Jackie held up a disk. "Now, you are going to put this in his laptop and it will totally crash."

"Why would I do that?"

"Because you know how much that freak likes his laptop!"

"What's that got to do with anything?"

Jackie glared at her, annoyed at all the questions. "It'll show him not to mess with us."

Claire glared back, sick of Jackie's know-it-all, I'm-the-boss attitude. "I'm not going to do and you can't make me." Claire walked out the door, ready to return to the living room, but Jackie grasped her arm.

"Have you forgotten who your friends are?" Jackie hissed, eyes glinting almost manically.

"Yeah, I did," Claire agreed, thinking about how she let go of Zach to be friends with Jackie, and her relationship with Gabriel. She snatched the disk from Jackie's hand and smashed it.

"You bitch!" Jackie yelled, shoving her angrily. Claire's heart jumped wildly as she found herself falling down the stairs.

"Claire, are you…" Zach came into view as Claire landed on the bottom step. Jackie had quickly snuck back out the window, absolutely horrified at the sight of her friend rolling down the stairs. Zach quickly ran to her aid, only to see her neck in odd position. Her body was lifeless, but only for second. He watched as her neck began to untwist into the right place.

"What the...?" Zach stared at her.

"Ow…" Claire groaned, then stared at him, looking completely panicked as she remembered falling. "I… What—?" Zach cut her off.

"You know, it maybe because I'm a freak, but that was kind of cool."

Author's Commentary: So anyone figured out who the mysterious woman is? I think you can figure it out.

Yeah the whole ghost thing might be a little weird, but then again this heroes, but if it helps I love Ghost Whisperer, so that's where the idea came from. So yeah…I'm trying for monthly updates, so here is this month, I'll starting working on the other one soon.