4

First Date: Part I

February 14, 2006 - 30 days until 'Patient Zero' is discovered

"You asked him out… On a date?" Claire had expected her father to hate the idea and force her to call it off, or at least that was what she hoped he would do. But instead Noah disappointed her by taking a few minutes to mull it over before declaring, "That was a smart move, Claire Bear. I'm proud of you for being able to think on your feet that way." He reached over to tussle her hair like he had done when she was a child, which in his eyes she suspected she still seemed that way. "I'll admit, I had my doubts about you becoming a Company girl, but," the grin on his lips spread from ear to ear, "you're going to be a good agent yet. You were assigned to get close to your target, and you found a way to do it."

However, the balance of amusement was quickly tipped in her favor after she had announced that a shopping trip was in order. None of the clothing that she had previously packed for her trip through time and space included anything beyond the realm of jeans and t-shirts. Not exactly "date" worthy attire when the goal revolved around an undercover operation. If she was going to play the part, logic dictated that she would have to look it as well.

And, if nothing else, there was something deliciously vindictive about her father having to wait outside of a department store dressing room with René holding her purse as she tried on outfit after outfit for well over an hour, muttering darkly about having been able to "bag and tag" a multiplier by the time she got out of there. Finally, she settled on a sleek olive-green dress that was elegant enough to pass for a more formal setting, but also bordering on the realm of casual; more because she wanted it for herself than actually caring about what her target would appreciate. Stepping out of the dressing room and doing a little twirl to gather her accomplices' opinions garnered more attention than was necessary from a passing male shopper whom had turned to look shortly before walking straight into a rack of hanging suit jackets. The Haitian shot a fiercely intimidating glare after the poor embarrassed fellow while Noah grunted in distaste.

"No. Absolutely not, Claire. I am not letting my daughter walk around in public like that. No."

She turned to a neighboring set of mirrors to more carefully examine her selection, attempting to determine what was apparently so ghastly about the garment. The hem of the dress was knee-length, hardly inappropriate. There wasn't any cleavage exposure, and the shoulder straps were quite thick instead of some spindly little scraps of fabric that suggested their function was more to be removed than observed. Overall, with the exception of the wonderfully flattering cut that portrayed her feminine curves well, it was a rather conservative number.

"What about this? This is nice." Noah held out a thick, wooly, dark gray pant suit that appeared to her as if it could have come from the very back of her late grandmother's closet. She ignored René's vehement nod of approval for her father's selection.

"I'm getting this one."

"No," Noah shook his head obstinately. "No. No. No. Absolutely not." Ten minutes later they disembarked from the store with Claire's new dress in tow.

Claire had opted to leave her hair down in a gracefully straight style as sleek as her dress and started to apply makeup as she normally would, but once she remembered the person she would be dealing with, that action was abruptly halted. Memories of the Stanton came rushing back to her, feeling his hand on her face and sniffing her hair all over again. A violent cringe shuddered throughout her entire body. Surely it would be alright to appear as though she were taking the evening seriously without truly putting effort into it. Just breathe, Claire. Play it cool and smooth like James Bond or something, and… Oh God. Don't say anything like that out loud.

"This should be a good opportunity to bug him tonight," Noah grunted from the driver's seat of the Primatech van.

"I'm pretty sure we annoy each other enough as it is."

"No, I mean bug him," he rolled his eyes at her as if his point should have been obvious. "While you're gone we'll set up a couple of cameras in the shop and his apartment. Maybe get a phone tap. And this little beauty here," he held up a discrete looking plastic tracking device smaller than a pencil eraser, "I want you to stick on him."

"Where?" she asked timidly with just a small hint of fear.

"His coat should be good enough I think."

"What if he goes somewhere without it? Or wears a different one?"

"Claire, it's February in New York. He's not going anywhere without a coat. And we've been watching him for a week now and he's only worn the one." Claire held up the tracking device between her thumb and forefinger so that she could see it more clearly under the passing street lights. Boogeyman LoJack. Awesome.

Gabriel found himself pacing back and forth in deep anxiety. He had started to wait outside of his shop but the freezing winter air forced him back in after only a few minutes. Then he found himself in a quandary as to whether he should be working when or if Claire arrived instead of just waiting around for her, having already been doing so for nearly an hour in the event that she came early.

Where are we supposed to go? What are we going to do when we get there? What if this is just a joke and she's not actually coming? He glanced down at his watch and saw the minute hand click over to the 7:01 position. Wringing his hands in nervous anticipation, he started wearing a path in the already strained carpet again. Maybe I should call her and say that I'm sick or something… No. She might already be on the way here. Just don't trip and fall on your face. Or snort when you laugh… if you find anything to laugh about. What if I do something to make her start laughing at me? Calm down. Breathe. Play it cool and smooth like Captain Kirk, and… Oh God. Don't say anything like that out loud. He heaved a heavy sigh when the minute hand flickered over to 7:02. And then a flash of blonde hair caught his attention from the window.

Claire came through the door with only a brief moment of hesitation, each entrance becoming easier. The bell that tinkled noisily to announce her arrival however, remained a jarring disturbance causing her to flinch even though she had come to expect it. "Sy-Gabriel?" Glancing around the interior of the shop revealed nothing of his presence to her. All the lights are on, and the door was unlocked… I know he's here somewhere.

She carefully tiptoed towards the doorway that separated the sales floor from the workroom completely unaware that he had made a dash for the bathroom to hyperventilate in private. Breathe, Gabriel. Breathe, he chided himself, splashing cold water on his face and rushing to comb his hair back into some semblance of order.

"Gabriel?" she called for him again. A resounding bang and metallic crashing sound answered her when he accidentally stumbled into a tool case in his haste to appear, spilling spare parts everywhere. Claire dipped her hand into her purse, fingers slipping around the smooth handle of the revolver hidden there and prepared to draw the weapon for use.

"Hello," he stuttered, slightly out of breath as he popped out of the doorway. His sudden entrance startled her and the hand that had been previously clutching the firearm withdrew to palm her chest where her heart had gone into a fresh round of erratic spasms. While she recovered from the scare, Claire took in his wide-eyed expression of shock. Why does he look like he's been caught doing something wrong? Note to self: snoop around the back later…

"Hello," she politely answered through only slightly gritted teeth, mustering a faint smile. Gabriel swallowed hard, forcing himself to look away from her before his eyes could wander too far and betray him, but that didn't help to stop the telltale blush that crept over him. As if already having the ability to intimidate the hell right out of him and turn him into a bumbling idiot weren't enough, the thought of her possibly bringing that curvy little body any closer transformed Claire into a full-blown terror. Do I get to kiss her later?

"So, um… Where did you want to go tonight?" he asked a bit timidly as they stepped out into the frosty air together.

Claire, having been preoccupied with warily watching his every movement stopped dead in her tracks. She had no idea. She cursed herself internally for a moment for looking over such a large piece of the picture after spending all of her energy covering minute details. "…I think… dinner and a movie are… standard for a… first date?"

"I guess so," Gabriel mumbled, jamming his hands into his pockets, more to keep from blatantly fidgeting than to avoid the cold.

"What do you usually do?" She watched as he slumped his shoulders and cast a downward glance to his shoes, shifting his weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other, and chewing on the inside of his lip as he carefully thought that over.

"I, uh… I don't know." He lifted his eyes to meet hers with a sheepish half-smile. "I don't really get out very often. What do you usually do?"

"I don't really get out very often either." Not in a romantic way at least. Mostly because of getting hunted, and trying to save the world, and… you. Claire may not have spoken her more revealing thoughts aloud, but Gabriel had quickly picked up on the blunt honestly in her blurted words. He was quirking his head at her again, analyzing the details of her facial expression, and maybe covertly slipping in a sideways peek at her figure where her coat was draped open.

"I find that hard to believe." She snapped her eyes to his and attempted to extinguish the traces of worry there. "I mean, you must have guys falling all over you." Guys better than me anyways.

Well, there was Brody. But he tried to rape me, accidentally killed me, and then dumped my body. And there was West, but he kind of freaked out because my dad had him kidnapped and experimented on. And then there was Alex, but once again with the chasing and the hunting… She sighed heavily. "Not really." Somehow, beyond her own understanding they found themselves sharing a quiet mutual chuckle at their own expense.

"Dinner and a movie it is then."

A particularly obnoxious and smug waiter escorted them to a quiet table at the little Italian restaurant that Gabriel had meekly suggested as having the "best darn mushroom ravioli in the world". Claire cleared her throat uncomfortably when the waiter's eyes lingered on her for an obscenely long moment after she removed her coat and exposed the full effect of her dress to the men. Gabriel however, failed to notice the impropriety as he was in the action of chivalrously pulling her chair out for her as well as carefully avoiding his own visual admirations.

"What can I get you lovely folks to drink tonight?" the waiter asked, maintaining contact with Claire for the duration of his inquiry, and then unenthusiastically swiveling his gaze to Gabriel.

"I'll just have a tea please."

"And for your… sister?"

"I'm not his sister," Claire corrected in a tone snobbish enough to counter the rude man. "And I'll have a tea too."

"You look really nice tonight," Gabriel offered once their server had disappeared with their orders. "Not that you don't look nice at other times..." He let out a nearly imperceptible puff of air and turned his face towards the table to hide the fresh blush gracing his cheeks.

"Thanks," she mumbled. I think? "You, um… You look okay too." Too bad you had to start killing people to discover hair gel. He had thankfully left his sweater vests behind for the night, but he still managed to appear as though his mother had dressed him, stiff collar and all. Awkward silence passed between them as they both seemed to find something interesting to look at in their laps.

"So," he started in an effort to find conversation, "did you move to New York recently, or are you just visiting?"

"Huh?" Claire looked up at him in surprise, her pulse steadily increasing pace.

"Your accent," he explained quietly and gestured half-heartedly in the direction of his throat to indicate a voice. "You're not from here. If I had to guess, I'd say somewhere in the south."

"Texas," she admitted, wondering exactly how much information he was gathering about her from observations of that nature.

"Oh." He raised his eyebrows to convey interest. "What brings you here all the way from the Lone Star state?"

"Business."

He nodded in understanding. "What do you do? Like, 'business' wise?"

Nosy much? "I, um… I work for a paper company." If it was a good enough cover for Dad, it's good enough for me.

"That must be interesting," he stated with his tone steadily climbing in pitch so that it sounded more like a question in his uncertainty.

"Yeah," she agreed after giving it some thought. "It really is. Speaking of, um, would you excuse me for a minute? I need to make a call." Claire grabbed her cell phone from her purse and headed for the lady's room, grateful for any reason to get away for a moment.

"Dad?" she called once she had gotten into the restroom and locked a stall door behind her. "Did you get all the stuff taken care of yet?"

"We got a couple of cameras into the shop, but we ran into some… unexpected difficulties at the apartment."

"Like what?"

"Apparently Sylar's mother is still doing his laundry." I knew it! "She was already there when we showed up so we couldn't get in." Claire could almost hear the impish smile spread across his face. "How's the date going?" he asked in an openly mocking manner.

"He's asking a lot of questions."

"Like what? You think he suspects you?"

"I don't know! Like my age. Where I'm from. What I do for a living…"

"Claire, I think people call that getting to know each other. I would be more worried if a guy like him wasn't asking those kinds of questions… What did you tell him you do for a living?"

"Paper company, duh."

Gabriel couldn't be sure exactly what it was that made him do it. He tried to convince himself that he was just concerned about the pesky little age issue; that he didn't want to take advantage of a girl that wasn't old enough to know any better, or get in trouble for it later. But that wasn't it. Not really. There was just something off about Claire.

She was a little strange for sure, and maybe a bit on the emotional side of things, but that couldn't explain why a woman like her, that looked like her, would lack in the romantic experience department. And it certainly couldn't explain why she would ever take an interest in him. Hell, not even their waiter had believed it. He tried desperately hard not to think about the way the color of her dress made her eyes shine, or how the delicate fabric clung to her thighs and almost hypnotically swayed with her hips as she walked away… And there was the way that she had left her hair down and neglected cosmetics for a nice natural look. He liked that. It made it all seem more real somehow.

Baseball. Cold showers. Kittens.

Perhaps it all went back to some form of post-traumatic stress. Gabriel had been very cautious about keeping his hands to himself and where she could see them, not making sudden or unexpected movements that would scare her because she always seemed like she was ready to bolt at the drop of a hat. If she was a victim of some terrible event then he expected that delving into the dating realm would be difficult. Maybe she chose him because he seemed like a safe alternative. He knew only too well that there wasn't a thing about him that screamed dangerous, or even whispered it for that matter. He didn't dare to hope that it would work out and that one day she might open up to him about it all.

But even when taking in her little quirks that he had begun to learn and discounting her unapproachable affliction, not everything added up as neatly as he wanted it to. Sometimes she took a few seconds too long to answer simple questions like she had to create information on the spot that she should have already known. And for that matter, what kind of job for a paper company sends a girl like her on a business trip from Texas to New York? His brain repeatedly failed to arrange all of Claire's details into an order that made sense so he found himself doing something that he instantly felt shame for even thinking about.

Gabriel waited until she had entered the restroom and grabbed her purse from where she had left it on the chair opposite him. He retrieved her billfold and cracked it open to search for identification. A white business card slipped out for a Primatech Paper Co. and he immediately felt embarrassed for himself that he had ever doubted her… Until the glare of her New York driver's license snagged his line of sight. Carrie Anne Butler, age twenty-one... What? So much for being Claire Bennet, nineteen, and from Texas.

He hurriedly replaced everything in its original resting position in the wallet and made to deposit the leather container back into her handbag when another more disturbing item caught his attention. There was a polished and shining revolver tucked into the side with all six shots loaded. Gabriel swallowed hard around the cottony knot that threatened to choke off his airway, suddenly finding himself alone with a complete stranger that was armed and potentially unstable.

To be continued...