March 19, 2006
Claire woke to Gabriel doodling random designs across the skin of her arm. "I was wondering if you were going to wake up." She turned her bleary eyes up to see him propping himself on an elbow, already fully dressed and shaven.
"What time is it?"
"12:43."
She rubbed the last vestiges of sleep from her eyes and sighed. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I've been so tired lately."
"Don't worry about it." Strong calloused fingers kneaded the knotted muscles of her shoulders before dropping down to her side and slipping beneath the covers to her stomach. Soft lips dipped to butterfly kiss the back of her neck and around to her collar bone. Something started churning deep within her belly under the onslaught of Gabriel's advances that wasn't entirely pleasurable. The hand on her stomach stilled when she tensed up.
"Claire," he sighed in her ear, "tell me what's wrong."
"Nothing." She rolled over into his arms where he was casting a look of serious disbelief in her direction. "I'm just… I'm just not in the mood right now."
"Okay," he amicably agreed, withdrawing from her side in mock surrender. "Why don't you go freshen up and I'll make something to eat."
"Sounds good." Claire gave him an earnest smile of encouragement for his efforts and slid out of bed. After yawning her way through a quick shower, she stepped out and wiped the condensation from the mirror. Ugh. How can I sleep so much and still end up with little baggies under my eyes? Brushing her teeth proved to be a more difficult chore than it should have been. What was usually a refreshing dose of mint flavor upon awakening somehow tasted sour. She stared at the tube of paste for the duration searching for some form of expiration date, but after the third episode of gagging, she gave up on the act and mentally deemed the hygienic product as being part of a bad production batch. Opting instead for a thorough cleansing by mouthwash, she discarded the toothpaste and grumbled her way through taming disobedient hair. Great, she mumbled internally while dressing, having discovered a light spotting of blood. That came early. This is sure to be the best day ever.
"Yes, I can probably fix it." Gabriel was in the process of pouring a glass of milk with the phone tucked between his jaw and shoulder when Claire wandered into the kitchen. "Yes, Mother," he spoke into the phone with a roll of his eyes when he saw her leaning against the doorway stifling a giggle. "Yes, I'll be over in a while to take care of it. Yes… Mom, I have to go. Mom… I - I have to go now. I love you too. Goodbye." He clicked off the line while the opportunity presented itself and handed Claire the glass of milk on his way to hang up the communications device. "Virginia's garbage disposal is broken so I have to go over a little early today and fix it. She probably dropped another fork in it or something."
He quirked a questioning brow at her when returning to see her nose scrunched up distastefully. "I think the milk went bad," she explained, taking a small sniff from the glass and sticking her tongue out at it.
"That's odd. We just bought it the day before yesterday." Gabriel took the glass from her and smelled the beverage for himself. Timidly he took a small sip and shrugged his shoulders at her. "Seems fine to me. The taste is probably off because you just brushed your teeth, but if you don't want it I'll drink it."
Gabriel watched her listlessly poke her food around the plate with a growing amount of concern from over the top of his newspaper. "Claire." He placed his paper to the side and reached for her hand, flinching slightly when she withdrew the appendage from his touch. "Are you going to tell me what the problem is, or are you just not in the mood for food either?"
"And don't tell me nothing," he clarified when she started to open her mouth. Claire sank into the back of her chair dejectedly and gave the plate before her a sullen stare, unable to come up with an appropriate answer. "Are you depressed?"
"What? No."
"Because there's nothing to be ashamed about, Claire. We can get you some help if you need it."
"No, it's nothing like that."
"Claire, something is wrong. You've been fatigued for the last few days. You're appetite is out of character. And you have been a little moody." She dropped her jaw incredulously, ready to rebuke his accusation when his shoulders sagged in defeat. "You've barely let me touch you since we came home." A sense of guilt struck when he rolled a pair of hurt puppy brown eyes up to look at her. "I know that you're feeling stressed with your job right now. And I know that something is bothering you. I just wish that you would talk to me about it."
"Gabriel…" Claire got up from her seat and moved to perch on his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck and locked their eyes. "I'm sorry. I've just been a little off lately."
"Please just tell me that it isn't because of what we did…"
"No. No, no, Gabriel." She placed an honest kiss on his lips. "I don't regret anything about being with you." Just the whole not being able to explain my spontaneous regeneration of virginity thing.
"You do look a little pale," he noted upon careful study of her features. Placing a gentle palm against her forehead caused a grim frown to pull down the corners of his mouth. "You're warmer than usual too. 99.5 degrees. Normally you run at a perfect 98.6. You must be coming down with some kind of bug. Maybe you should go back to bed for a while and get some more rest."
"I wish I could," she sighed. "Unfortunately I have to go in and see what kind of devious plans my boss has cooked up over the week."
He chuckled lightly. "There's something amusing about an executive of a paper company being thought of as devious."
"Oh, yeah. She's a real riot."
Claire wandered down the halls of Primatech's New York base of operations. Most of the people that she passed on her way to Angela's office completely ignored her presence as though they knew that she had come from another time and were worried for their own futures by interacting with her. But others would cast disdainful side long glances when they thought that she wouldn't see. For an institution that revolved around the research, occupation and use of specials like her in their day to day operations it was more than a little baffling to see first hand the amount of distrust and blatant distaste that remained attached to people of her kind. It was almost akin to the racial tensions that plagued the pages of her history books in school. She was different from them. They might have not known exactly why, but they knew that she wasn't one of them. Not really. And because of that she was not to be trusted.
So much for 'one of us, one of them'.
Outside of her grandmother's office, Claire was prepared to knock for entrance when a conversation taking place on the other side of the door caught her attention. "And Gabriel Gray has been returned successfully?"
"Yes. He's been back home since Friday." Noah and Angela were having a meeting about them.
"Good. I hope you've explained to Claire exactly how irresponsible it was to take an impromptu vacation with Mr. Gray. We should have been notified before hand so that the proper precautions could have been taken."
"Yes, she knows." Was her father covering for her?
"Now, about what you observed when you found them in that motel?"
"They had separate rooms. There was no sign that Gray had even been in her room."
"Interesting. Mr. Gray remains a gentleman if nothing else."
"I trust Claire, Angela. She's a good girl. Even if she has developed some sort of attachment to this guy… Claire would never do anything like that."
"I'm sure." She could almost hear the sarcastic smile in her grandmother's voice and it made her stomach turn uneasily. "And she's still staying at the Hyatt?"
"Her room is still paid out until the end of the month."
"That doesn't answer the question, Noah."
There was a rustling sound inside the room like someone shifting their position uncomfortably. "When Suresh became the primary threat to the operation, Claire did take up residence in Gray's apartment. She knew that she had to keep a closer eye on him in case he was contacted." Angela's insinuations were stirring indignant outrage that flushed her face. She could only imagine the bitter scowl that would have taken hold of her father. "They do… share a couch."
"And bed as of late?"
"There have been no signs of activity between them." Every one of Noah's words came out as a low snarl ripped from dangerously gritted teeth.
Why the hell is Angela so interested in my sex life? Oh, wait. Because it involves a potential psycho killer responsible for murdering Nathan. But we're past the date where Suresh found his 'Patient Zero'… Gabriel still has no idea that he has a power. We should be clear, right?
"Interesting. Very well then. Operations will continue as they have been. Oh, and Noah? Your Claire is going to cut her hand on some glass in front of a friend. Be ready to cover that up. We wouldn't want Thompson to get wind of anything, now would we?"
Claire turned to get away from the door before she could be caught eavesdropping only to find herself chest deep in the Haitian. "René," she breathed, catching her pulse of surprise, "you scared the crap out of me. Don't sneak up on people like that."
He crossed his arms and gave her a meaningful look that told her he knew what she was up to and had been listening in on. The Haitian's glare of disappointment was almost as unsettling as her father's.
"Claire?" Noah announced in surprise, having stepped out of Angela's office. "What are you doing here? Where's Gray?"
"He's with his mother fixing her garbage disposal. What the hell was that all about?"
"Angela had a dream that you two were… Has he tried to take advantage of you?"
"No!" I don't even think Sylar would sink that low. And then the memory of the Stanton came rushing back at her. Well, maybe. "Gabriel has been nothing but nice to me and you know it! He's harmless." For the most part.
"Are you feeling alright? You look different."
"Oh, hello, Claire dear," Virginia greeted her at the door, her smile flickering with false enthusiasm. "Come in. My Gabriel is still working on the disposal. You can have a seat at the -"
"Ow! Son-of-a -" Virginia cleared her throat noisily, casting a distasteful glare in the direction of the kitchen sink, "yellow bellied… mountain canary."
"Would you like something to drink while you wait on him to finish up?"
"No, thank you," she said taking a step into the apartment. "My stomach has been a little upset with me today."
"I hope you're not coming down with something," Virginia mumbled in a rush. The older woman quickly shut the door behind her and made a direct line for her hand sanitizer, liberally purging her hands before flitting out of the room.
Claire wandered over to the table where Gabriel's shirt and sweater vest were draped over a chair. His face and shoulders were obscured by the sink's cabinetry leaving only a toned torso clad in a fitted undershirt and slacks to trail from the bottom amidst spare parts and fixtures. "You know she's going to scrub this whole place down with bleach if she thinks you're sick," he mumbled from somewhere in the plumbing.
Is it wrong that I enjoy freaking her out? "Yeah. I guess I shouldn't have mentioned that." He let out a sharp hiss of breath before climbing out from under the sink, holding his hand with a grim scowl on his face. Claire inhaled deeply at the sight of him standing to wipe his greasy hands off on a rag, the muscles in his arms and shoulders contracting with movement and his late afternoon stubble stained with a streak of oil across his cheek. Whoa, hormones. Not here. Not now.
"I cut my hand on something in there." Gabriel glanced over at her, his brow line raising for a moment before sinking with mischief, a slow smirk curling in the corner of his mouth with knowing. "There's something jammed down in the blades but my hands are too big to get it out. I've been trying to go through the bottom, but…" he shook his head with a sigh. "I'm going to have to replace the wiring. I'm just happy the motor didn't burn up."
He crawled back beneath the sink with a few sparse curses muttered under his breath. "Claire, can you see anything from up there?" She crossed over to the spotless basin and twisted around trying to spot whatever object was bogging the operation down.
"No…"
"If I cross these wires maybe I can give it just enough power to loosen it."
Claire ducked her head a little closer to peer down the top layer of piping. Spying a sliver of something shining in the dim light she cried out, "Hang on! I think I see it!"
"Be careful. Those blades are rusty." She snaked her slender hand down the drain and curled her fingers over the disposal's blades. Gabriel slipped a few more garbled curses out from below when she knocked something slimy down the path of piping.
"I can't quite reach it." Her fingers fumbled with the object, repeatedly touching and losing it. "Wait, I think maybe -" Claire had just managed to get the hindrance in her grasp when a sneeze echoed up the pipe with a subtle buzz of electricity. There was only a split second between the point when her mind registered what was about the happen and the gurgling rumble of the garbage disposal coming to life. She felt the not so gentle tug of her hand being caught in the blades just before they shut off again.
"Oh my God! Claire!" Even without the shock of pain surrealism filled the air of the situation. Gabriel had climbed out from under the sink and grabbed his shirt to wrap her hand in before she could protest. "Oh my God! Claire, I'm so sorry. I - I - it was an accident! Oh God, I'm so sorry!" Hot tears of remorse were spilling over his lashes onto the shirt-bandaged hand that he was clutching for life. Tiny spatters of blood marred his face from where her flesh had been torn open and spiraled down the pipe.
He had her scooped into his arms and dashing for the couch faster than any non-Speedster should have been able. Dark pools of blood had seeped through the shirt and swiped across his chest. And all she could do was think, Oh shit.
Through his panic and chaotic apologies, Gabriel had her hand elevated so that the blood would run away from the wound and was grappling for the phone when his mother arrived on the scene. "We have to get you to the hospital."
"Gabriel, what happened? What's going on?"
"I - I touched the wires. I didn't mean to, Claire! It was an accident I swear! Oh God, I'm so, so sorry."
"Gabriel? Tell me what happened here?" Virginia demanded, looking at them both like they had just come from the set of a blood soaked horror movie.
Claire fended off his protests, batting Gabriel's hands away as she unraveled the shirt around her hand. The last stitch of stained cloth fell away and revealed to them all a flawlessly formed hand with fresh pink skin and light smears of reddish color. His eyebrows pulled together like two trains on a collision course and yanked her hand into his own for inspection. He turned the palm up and down, side to side and every which direction that he could think of, testing the function of her wrist and finger alignment.
"Gabriel?" Virginia prodded again, an inch from her own obsessive panic.
"Nothing," he muttered in disbelief. "Nothing is wrong, Mother. Everything is just fine," he assured her even though he wasn't sure that he bought his own words. She took his claims for face value though and wandered away aimlessly. "I could have sworn… I knew…" He was looking at the blood again, cross referencing the grotesque display with the lack of evidence on her skin.
His eyes flickered up to her own with dilated pupils and irises flooding with dark intent. Sylar was hungry.
Oh, shit.
To be continued...