Time ain't nothing but time; It's a verse with no rhyme.

Man, it all comes down to you.

And change ain't nothing but change, just the faces and names.

But you know we're gonna make it through.

I'll believe, when you don't believe in anything.

I'm gonna hold you 'til your hurt is gone,

Be the shoulder that you're leaning on.

I'll be standing here for the next 100 years.

If it all should end tonight, I'll know it was worth the fight,

And we'll be standing here for the next 100 years.

I, when I think that I'm losing my mind, it all comes back to you.

And you, yeah you know that it's true,

After all we've been through, there's nothing that I wouldn't do.

Stand by me, and I would gladly give up everything.

I'm gonna hold you 'til your hurt is gone,

Be the shoulder that you're leaning on.

I'll be standing here for the next 100 years.

If it all should end tonight, I'll know it was worth the fight.

And we'll be standing here…

For the next 100 years.

The funeral was larger than Claire expected, given the size of the town Elle and Gabriel had been hiding in for the past few years. On a close examination she realized that most, if not all, of the town's inhabitants had turned up. It seemed like a fitting tribute, somehow, that in just a few years Elle had managed to touch the lives of so many people. She had bought a simple black dress at a second hand store near the diner where Elle had worked, not having brought anything appropriate for a funeral. But even though she was just one more person in a sea of black, she felt as if she stood out somehow; everyone else there knew one another, and had for years. She was the only stranger. But she didn't have time to worry about that, because she was too busy trying to comfort a bereft Noah, who was just now beginning to understand what had really happened. The service was short and bittersweet. When it was over, Gabriel wandered away into the cemetery, avoiding the eyes of throngs of sympathetic well-wishers whose words couldn't even begin to soothe his aching heart. She saw Peter follow him, and, spurred by a sudden intense purpose, hurried after them with Noah still bundled in her arms.

They were standing under a flowering tree, looking out at the sprawling grassy hills filled with elaborately carved gray slabs and piles of flowers left by loving mourners, two brothers side by side in silent sadness. Noah squirmed restlessly and Claire set him down. He toddled over to his father and tugged on his pant legs demandingly. Gabriel stooped down and picked his son up, clinging to him with a haunted look in his eyes.

"Gabriel," Claire said. He didn't look at her, but she could tell he was listening.

"I think you and Noah should come back home with me."

He looked at her then.

"You can't stay with Peter—sorry, Peter, but your apartment is really, really small—there's no way three people could live there comfortably. My house has plenty of extra room."

Gabriel shook his head. "I can't do that, Claire."

"Why not?" she demanded, lifting her chin defiantly.

"Because…"

"Because of my father?"

He shrugged. "Well…yeah."

Claire sighed in exasperation. "Look, not too long ago I would have gladly killed you on sight. Now, things are different. If I can change, then so can he."

Peter raised his eyebrows. "She seems kind of determined," he commented.

Gabriel shook his head. "I really don't think this is a good idea, Claire."

"Too bad," Claire said resolutely. "You can't stay here, Gabriel. You need a fresh start. And you need someone to help you take care of Noah. So you're coming home with me."

"I still don't think this is a good idea," Peter said crossly.

"Oh, would you be quiet already?" Claire snapped, her hand on the knob of her front door. "I get it, you don't think it's a good idea, but for crying out loud, we're here!"

Peter sighed. "Just saying…"

As soon as Gabriel had agreed, rather reluctantly, to Claire's plan, things had moved quickly. They had gone home with Jim and Doris and changed into more comfortable clothes, and then Gabriel had gathered together the meager amount of possessions that he and Elle had acquired over the past few years. And, after a tearful goodbye with Jim and Doris and a promise to keep in touch, they had left.

Claire paused before opening the door.

"You know…on second thought, Pete, maybe you and Noah should…stay outside for a few minutes."

Peter smiled nervously. "um…yeah, that's probably a good idea."

He watched, his stomach churning, as Gabriel and Claire entered the house. Noah whimpered softly, snuggling closer to him.

"I know, little guy," Peter said softly "I'm worried too."

There was silence in the house. Then, after what seemed like a very long time, Peter heard a loud crash and raised, muffled voices. He tightened his arms around Noah, straining to make out the words being shouted on the other side of the door.

"You know, Noah," he said. "I'm not so sure this was a good idea. It was hard enough to convince your Aunt Claire…"

He heard another crash, and the voices got louder. Noah squealed and clapped his tiny hands over his ears.

"It's okay, Noah," Peter soothed, even though he didn't believe it himself. "It's okay…"

Then suddenly the image of a gun, black and deadly, flashed before his eyes. His stomach flipped and the earth spun around him as the vision hit him, vanishing in an instant and leaving him gasping for air.

"What…" he managed to say. Then he heard the unmistakable sound of a gunshot on the other side of the door.

Before he could process what he had just seen and heard, Noah, screaming hysterically, wriggled out of Peter's arms, fell to the ground, and stumbled to the front door, throwing it open.

"Wait!" Peter exclaimed, trying to regain his balance. "Noah, stop! No!"

"DAD! What the hell is wrong with you?"

"I told you, I don't want that monster in my house!"

"You shot him!"

Noah Benett pointed his gun at the prone figure lying on the floor, bleeding from a bullet wound in the middle of the forehead.

"And I'll do it again," he hissed, cocking the weapon.

Then, before Noah could pull the trigger or Claire or Sandra, standing slack-jawed, could make a move to stop him, the front door burst open in an explosion of sudden force.

Claire, Sandra and Noah stared in shock as a weeping toddler ran unsteadily to his father's side, grabbed him by the shirt collar, and began to shake him desperately.

"Daddy!" he cried, tears streaming down his cheeks. "Daddy!"

"What?" Noah managed to say.

"Get away from there," Peter Petrelli exclaimed, dashing in from nowhere to try and snatch the child away.

"Petrelli?" Noah Benett demanded. "What the hell are you doing here?" The gun in his hand was still leveled at Gabriel's motionless body.

"Dad, for God's sake!" Claire yelled, stepping forward to snatch the gun from his hands. "Peter, I thought you were going to stay outside?"

"I was, but—" Peter gave up trying to wrestle the child away from Gabriel's side.

"What the hell is going on?" Noah Bennet hollered.

"Oh, shut up, would you?" Claire snapped. She removed the ammo from the gun and knelt by Noah and Gabriel's sides, laying her hands gently on Noah's small shoulders. "Noah?"

"What?" her father asked.

"No, not you," Claire said drily, rolling her eyes. "Noah, sweetie…"

"Is Daddy sleeping?" Noah asked blearily, his voice thick with tears.

"Yeah, Noah, he's only sleeping," she said softly, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. "He's only sleeping. He'll wake up soon." She held him tight, waiting impatiently as the seconds seemed to drag on for an eternity. It should've happened by now, she thought, fear eating at the edges of her stomach. He should've healed by now!

It felt like a lifetime passed before the bloody hole in Gabriel's forehead began to shrink. His eyes blinked and he took a ragged breath. He looked at them for a moment, confused and uncomprehending. Then recognition flashed in his eyes and he sat up sharply, letting out a cry of dismay.

Noah wrenched himself from Claire's arms and threw himself at his father, sobbing.

"Hey," Gabriel said softly, his voice hoarse. "Hey, Noah, it's okay. Don't cry, it's okay."

Noah Benett cleared his throat loudly. His face was red, his jaw clenched, and his hands were balled up into tight fists at his sides.

"Will someone," he said softly, his voice laced with rage, "tell me what the hell is going on?"

Gabriel looked down at the milky surface of the tea in the mug cradled in his hands, the steam curling up and warming his face. He glanced out the window and then back down at the tea.

"Relax, Gabriel," Peter said, for the thousandth time. "It looks like it's going well."

"Are you sure?" Gabriel asked, looking back out the window. It was true, Noah Benett no longer looked as violently angry as he had at first. He was speaking to Claire, exasperation etched on his face, but through the window they couldn't hear anything the two were saying.

"Peter's right," Sandra said, reaching out to lay her hand on Gabriel's arm. "He's coming around."

Gabriel smiled at her uneasily. It had thrown him off, how readily Sandra had accepted him and little Noah. He hadn't realized that Sandra had known all along where Claire disappeared to so often, that Claire had told her mother everything. While Claire and her father had gone outside to talk, Sandra had taken the two brothers into the kitchen, where she made them each a large mug of tea. Little Noah was fast asleep on the couch, clinging to a stuffed elephant that Sandra had brought down from Claire's room. "Poor dear," she had cooed softly. "First he loses his mother, then this…"

"You shouldn't have let him inside," Gabriel said crossly. Peter rolled his eyes.

"It's not like I did it on purpose!"

"He's a toddler, Pete. How hard is it to hold onto him, really?"

Peter scowled. "It was…it was weird, Gabriel. It was like he knew what was going on, that you were in trouble, and then…I saw the gun, like it was right there in front of me, and then…" He shrugged. "Then he ran in."

Gabriel mulled it over, staring at his reflection in the tea. "Do you think it was Noah?"

"Huh?" Peter asked. Gabriel smirked.

"My Noah, I mean," he said. "That…might get a little confusing."

"Someday you'll have to explain to me why you named your son after my husband," Sandra said with a friendly wink. Gabriel smiled.

"Gabriel, are you thinking that little Noah did that?" Peter asked slowly. "That he saw the gun, that he had a vision?" Gabriel looked at him and Peter's eyes widened. He whistled. "That's…wow. I guess it's not that surprising for him to have powers, given his parents, but…he's just so young!"

Sandra laughed. "Children surprise you. That's part of their job." She looked out the window and smiled. "Looks like my husband's finally giving up the fight," she said, nodding towards them. Gabriel and Peter looked out to see Noah throwing up his hands in defeat. Sandra opened a cupboard and reached up for an extra mug. "I should make some tea for him," she said.

Gabriel smiled. "You might want to make something a little stronger, Sandra. He's probably going to need it."

Epilogue

Gabriel woke with a start, gasping. Then, looking up into the darkness, he began to laugh.

The Benett house was still unfamiliar, but he didn't turn on any lights as he slowly made his way down to the kitchen. He didn't want to wake anyone. A clock chimed in the hall. A floorboard creaked under his foot and he winced, pausing, but the house was still silent.

He poured himself a glass of water in the kitchen, and the sound of the faucet masked Noah Benett's footsteps as he approached.

"Can't sleep?" he asked. Gabriel jumped.

"Sorry," he said, setting the glass down on the counter. "I didn't mean to wake you."

Noah shook his head. "I couldn't sleep either." He looked strange, the shape of his face unfamiliar without his horn-rimmed glasses. "So what's got you up at this hour of the morning?"

Gabriel was silent a moment. Then he spoke.

"A dream."

Noah raised his eyebrows. "A premonition?"

Gabriel shook his head. "No, no, nothing like that. It was…" He laughed. "Maybe it was just a dream, I don't know, but…it was Elle. She came to talk to me."

Noah was quiet for a moment.

"What did she say?"

"Lots of things," Gabriel said with a smile. "She…she said she loved me, and that she would be watching over me, to help me with everything I would have to go through." Noah peered at him inquisitively. Gabriel smirked. "Apparently my little boy has quite a few more powers he's yet to develop. Do you have any idea what it's going to be like, trying to raise a teenager who can fly?"

Noah laughed. "Flying, no, but I can tell you one who can heal herself is quite a handful."

They chuckled.

"So you think it was real," Noah asked. "That it wasn't just a dream, that what she said was true?"

Gabriel sighed, picking up the glass of water and taking a thoughtful sip.

"I don't know," he said finally. "But…I think it was." He sniffed, a tear coming unbidden to his eye. When he had woken, he could have sworn she had been in the room with him; he could smell her, feel her presence.

Noah reached out to squeeze his shoulder. "You miss her," he observed softly.

"Yeah," Gabriel admitted hoarsely. "But it's getting easier, every day."

Noah smiled. "Well, all I can say is, if she can see you right now…I'm sure she's proud."

She was.

The End.