Saving Gabriel

Inspired by "Cry Little Sister" by Aiden

"Cry little sister (thou shall not fall).

Come to your brother (thou shall not die).

Unchain me, sister (thou shall not fear).

Love is with your brother (thou shall not kill)."

1

Lord of the Sith, Not So Much

February 13, 2006 - 31 days until 'Patient Zero' is discovered

Claire closed her eyes and paused with her hand resting on the handle of the shop's door. She drew in a deep breath through her nose and exhaled it with her mouth, wishing she could draw her open coat closer around her to ward off the chill in the air, but also finding the low temperature soothing. Her stomach was twisted into a mass of nervous knots that refused to relinquish their hold. Rapid cellular regeneration may have kept her from falling ill for all of her life but the sensation turbulently churning inside of her then was most certainly nausea.

"Now or never," she whispered to herself wishing that the strength in those words would help to steel her resolve. Claire opened her eyes to the Gray and Sons logo sticking to the other end of the slightly fogged glass before her and took another steadying breath. People walking by were beginning to stare but she was hard-pressed to care. None of them could possibly know what really awaited her beyond the simple entryway.

The door opened, seemingly of its own accord, and a tiny bell above signaled her arrival, sending her already strained heart into a burst of erratic spasms. She paused for a moment just inside of the threshold for her eyes to adjust to the relative darkness of the shop from the bright outside world. With the exception of incessant ticks and tocks sounding from every direction, the interior of the building was startlingly quiet, allowing the rapid rush of her own blood flow and hearty pulse to fill her alert ears.

Clocks of every size, shape, and variety rhythmically kept time in perfect unison. Tall ornately carved grandfather clocks were intuitively positioned to assist consumers in discerning relative categories of purchase. Simple conventional time keepers hung from the walls alongside more intricate ones with differing background designs featuring fantastic pictures of scenery and nature. Collectible and antique cuckoos were delicately displayed from padded shelves. There was even a small selection of novelty pieces in the far corner that offered a distracting ambience in comparison to the rest of the place with brightly glowing neon colors and reversed numbers meant to make a person stop and think about what they were looking at. A long glass display case ran parallel to the wall near the door, showing rows of wrist watches from the casual to the expensive, and even flashy formal. Not a single speck of dust could be found on any visible surface despite the slightly musty smell of the atmosphere.

"Hello," a low, velvety baritone voice greeted from somewhere beyond her view, simultaneously interrupting her observation of the surroundings and sending a surge of adrenaline through her veins. It was a voice that she would recognize anywhere. The one that had haunted her nightmares every time she closed her eyes.

Don't scream.

"How can I help you today?"

Drop dead, maybe.

The tall, lean visage of her arch nemesis appeared from a back room, wiping his hands on a stained rag. Claire automatically focused on the mundane action, her brain conjuring images of grotesque blood smears. But there were none, and if she had anything to do about it, there never would be.

"I, um, I have this watch that I need to get fixed," she mumbled, using every last ounce of her restraint to avoid screaming obscenities at him, or just giving in to her body's will to bolt back through the door and run away at top speed, shrieking like a mad woman. She fished through her purse for the object in question, reluctant to take her eyes off of her enemy.

His state of dress seemed to emphasize his lanky frame. He wore a pair of highly polished brown leather shoes that drew attention to his not quite properly fitting brown trousers, exposing at least an inch of white socks beneath. His powder blue shirt was primly tucked in and buttoned to the very top of the extremely stiff collar. The drab gray sweater vest hanging frumpily from his shoulders completed the look, giving him the appearance of a man that was still being dressed by his mother. Heavy black-rimmed glasses sheltered his dramatic brow line and enhanced the set of deeply intense, calculating brown eyes. Claire noted that he must not have discovered his prized hair gel yet. Even though his thick dark hair was severely parted to the side, a thin lock had sprung loose and waved defiantly over his forehead.

"Well, you certainly came to the right place," he said softly with a timid smile. She couldn't help herself. She visibly flinched as he took a step towards her. He paused, having noticed her reaction and tilted his head ever so slightly to the side that someone else may never have perceived the motion, as though he were attempting to read her for the open book that she had always been to him. Her fingers combed over the cool metallic surface of the revolver concealed within her bag, hesitating briefly before retrieving an inconspicuous looking black wrist watch.

Claire offered a conciliatory smile and forced her legs to break free of the invisible grips that better judgment had used to hold her in place. She crossed a portion of the distance between them and held out the broken time piece for him to take possession of. Her eyes carefully darted away from the Sylar emblem beneath the cracked face, hands permanently frozen at 11:53 on the date of September 28, 2006.

He slowly closed the remaining gap of space and took the watch from her trembling fingers, taking care to avoid contact with her skin. Everything about this man was unquestionably different from the legendary Boogeyman that he was destined to become. His stance and posture were non-threatening, that of a man who wished more to remain unnoticed by the world around him than to ostentatiously project his persona. His movements were calculated and cautious so as not to disturb or startle her, and his eyes averted hers except when necessary for polite conversation. Even the air around his being seemed to protest that she had nothing to fear from him, but none of this could possibly dissuade her from such a basic survival instinct. Not after all of the horrific things he had done to her.

"Oh, wow," his eyes widened in surprise. "This is incredible. I've been working on something exactly like this for years now." He turned a shy but intriguing smile on her as his long fingers inspected the device. He tapped on the glass of the watch face, studying the crack, and lifted it to his ear to listen to the inner machinations.

"How about that. Small world, huh?" she replied awkwardly, knowing only too well how true that statement rang. Goosebumps prickled over her skin. The monster, her personal tormentor, and the damn devil himself was standing only a foot away from her, holding his most precious possession and the symbol of his terrifying reign because she had bestowed it upon him. Claire expected him to turn against her any moment and start laughing maniacally as he raised those deadly fingers against her.

"Sylar Field Edition modeled after the Russian watch Allied commander John Pershing brought back to America with vintage German parts from 1917. This is… absolutely amazing. Where did you get this?" he inquired with open awe, flitting his eyes to her from the corners but refusing to break contact with the watch.

"It was… a gift," she finished lamely, wishing she could slap herself. Remember the mission Claire. We only get one shot at this. We have to save the future. The mission. The mission. The mission. "Do you think you can fix it?"

"Yeah." He became solemn for a moment, lost in a deep thought. "Yeah, I think I can." He flashed her a wide dopey grin before carefully recomposing himself.

"Great… So I should come back…?"

"Um, tomorrow. I already have the parts for it so I can work on it tonight and probably have it finished by tomorrow afternoon."

Is he actually excited about this? "Okay then. I will be back tomorrow." She lightly clapped her hands together and balanced her weight on the balls of her feet before rigidly turning her back on him to exit the shop.

"Oh, wait."

Here it comes. I'm going to turn around and he's going to put the Darth Vader choke hold on me.

"I, uh, need to get your name… For the paperwork…"

"Right. Of course you do." Claire turned on her heel and carefully followed his movements as the villain sauntered behind the front counter, still studying the watch in his hand. He placed it on the glass display case long enough to grab a repair form from a side drawer. She paused for a moment wondering if she should attempt to make up the information or not. She firmly concluded though, that since he would be dead soon, by her hands no less, that she would be honest. It would be a lot easier than having to remember whatever lies she had told him and leave fewer opportunities for her to forget something important, jeopardizing the mission if he became suspicious.

"Claire Bennet," she spelled out for him. His hand twiddled out the information in unusually tidy scrawl for a male with graceful little flourishes at the ends of each letter.

"And your phone number? Um, just in case I need more time or something…" He kept his eyes firmly focused on the page before him with his head bowed so that she couldn't see his expression, but a telltale pink flushing came over the tops of his ears.

Is he blushing? Claire made another foray into the depths of her purse for her cell phone. Normally she would have been able to recite her own number on command, but under the present circumstances her brain was reluctant to retrieve any information that didn't involve the immediate danger she was in. Her fingers brushed over the smooth surface of the gun again and she hesitated for a moment before putting the death grip on her phone. Once all of the appropriate information had been exchanged she had to forcefully stop herself from dashing for the door.

"It's nice to meet you, Ms. Bennet. I'm Gabriel Gray," he paused, extending his hand to shake hers. She managed to suppress a dry heave from the thought of having to touch his skin, especially voluntarily.

The mission, Claire. The mission. He was turning his head lightly at her again, and his ever expressive brow subtly raised in confusion over her apprehension. When he began to withdraw the offending hand she reached out and snatched it in her own. She shook awkwardly, his larger hand engulfing hers, and tried not to shudder.

The palm of his hand was noticeably rougher than the one she remembered holding her face in the Stanton hotel room while he strung her along on invisible puppet strings, forcing her to sip wine with him, explaining that someday she would love him. Maybe even be his First Lady. Claire couldn't stop the second shudder. "Yeah, nice to meet you too."

Thank God he doesn't have his lie detector ability yet. She swore that she could physically feel his eyes following her as she struggled to keep an even pace while exiting the store.

"Have a nice day," he called after her. Claire flinched and tossed what she hoped wouldn't be an obvious glare over her shoulder as she paused in the open doorway. He was already focusing his attentions on the watch again though, closing his eyes as he held the piece to his ear. His eyes snapped back open and the chill of the moment drove her the rest of the way through the door. The sounds of the little tinkling bell and the relentless ticks and tocks stuck with her like subconscious taunts as she nearly jogged down the block and around the corner to the Primatech van that waited just out of sight.

To be continued...