Okay, so. This has stuck in my craw. I'm at over 10k words for this fic already, but I haven't gotten a single review. Either on here or AO3, which is really obnoxious . (And I know people are reading this. I have bookmarks and kudos and hits, but not a single comment or review.) So here's the deal: NaNoWriMo starts on Sunday. All of my fics are taking a back burner to the novel I'll be working on. If, come 12:00 AM on the morning of December 1, I still don't haven any reviews or comments, I will not continue this fic. I hate to be that guy, but I've also never been in this situation before, and I'm not going to keep writing a fic that isn't getting attention. At least, not publishing it. (My best friend is a diehard Pylar shipper, so I'll probably keep writing for him.)

Anyway! I like this chapter because the identity of the third Ali Larter sister (Barbara) was never really explained, at all, except that she exists and she's identical to Niki and Tracy. So... Barbara Solomon. (Sanders, Strauss, Solomon. I kept up with the theme.)

"Don't talk to strangers,

And don't walk into danger...

You go to sleep on your own and you

Wake each day with your thoughts and it

Scares you, being alone,

It's a last resort."

As soon as Claire finished speaking, the reporters mobbed her, demanding more answers. Noah stayed back, clearly disapproving, but he didn't interfere. Hiro and Ando spoke quietly in Japanese, probably discussing whether or not to disappear.

Gabriel took a step back without realizing it. It wasn't until his mission was accomplished that the reality of the situation sank in. With nothing else to distract him, he was able to fully absorb it.

He took another, conscious step back. Peter didn't seem to notice.

He'd forgotten how loud people could be. He'd forgotten what it felt like to be trapped in a crowd, penned like an animal. Three years alone followed by nine more with only one other person had destroyed his sense of normalcy. A flicker of panic rose in his chest, nearly suffocating him, and he spun around and started running as far away from the carnival as he could get.

The truly eerie thing about the New York City of his head was how he'd nearly always been alone, no matter where he went. Now, it was the opposite: he needed to be alone, and there was no place he could go. Except for his apartment, of course, but the thought of being in that place, where he'd spent the better part of twelve years, was exhausting. He couldn't go home. Not tonight. Not after what happened in the kitchen.

As the memory washed over him, he slowed to a walk. The carnival was only so many twinkling lights in the distance, and the blessed darkness was closing in. Central Park wasn't empty by any stretch of the imagination, but at least he wasn't surrounded anymore. He didn't even think he could look at Peter anymore. Now that he'd rescued Emma—or at least distracted Doyle long enough to allow Emma to rescue herself—he had a chance to contemplate what had transpired between him and Peter.

It had been a moment of weakness. For both of them. Peter wanted nothing to do with him—and why would he? He had Emma, after all, and Gabriel had killed Peter's brother. Peter could forgive, but forgetting would be infinitely more difficult.

He should have pushed Peter away. He would have, if he'd known what was good for him. But after all that time alone, a little bit of contact, more of the human experience, was exactly what he'd been craving.

He kept walking, trying to push it out of his head, but he kept circling back to it. Even outside of Central Park, bumping into people—Where did they all come from? Oh, wait, this is normal—he couldn't ignore it. He finally paused on the sidewalk and looked up, and a strange, unexpected bit of peace washed over him. He would be okay. Maybe not right now, but eventually.

He came back to himself and looked around. He'd inexplicably stopped at a hotel, and he realized that while he was exhausted, going home was not an option tonight. There was no harm in seeing if this place still had rooms available.

He stepped through the sliding doors into a brightly-lit lobby, all white marble and glass sculptures and furniture that looked more decorative than a place where people actually sat and relaxed. It looked too clean, entirely at-odds with how he felt. He slowly began inching toward the doors again when a pleasant voice called out to him, "Can I help you, sir?"

He looked toward the voice, heart thudding—it sounded oddly familiar. And for good reason.

If she had been anyone else, he would have just waved his hand and left without a word, but she wasn't anyone else. "Tracy?" he asked, uncertain. He hadn't seen Tracy Strauss in—well, he didn't actually know how long it had been. He wouldn't have expected her to be working the front desk of a hotel, though, so...

"Hmm? No, my name is Barbara," she said, smiling at him like she knew a secret.

The name clicked. He didn't know where he'd heard it before, but it had been in relation to Niki Sanders and Tracy Strauss, who had been two of an identical set of triplets.

Barbara. The third sister. "It wasn't an accident that I came in here, was it?" he asked, approaching the front desk.

She kept smiling, tossing her hair slightly in a way he supposed was meant to convey innocence. "I assume you came here to check in, correct?"

"That's... not what I meant. You were adopted, weren't you? Adopted at birth?"

Her smile faltered a bit. "How did you—?"

"Because I met your sisters. Both of them. Nicole and Tracy."

"Sisters?"

"You didn't know," he half-asked.

"No, I... I didn't," she said quietly. The bell in his head wasn't ringing, so he knew she wasn't lying. "Wait, how do you know all this? How did you... about these sisters?"

"I met them. All three of you are identical. You're triplets. I just... Niki lived in Nevada, near Las Vegas, and Tracy lives... well, the last I saw her, she was here on the East Coast. I almost expected that if I ever met you, it would be in Wisconsin or something."

"I just moved," Barbara said faintly. "From Minnesota. My sisters... how well did you know them?"

Gabriel's voice dropped to ensure that no one else could hear him. Not, he supposed, that it mattered anymore, considering Claire had just let the cat out of the bag in a big way, but he wouldn't begrudge Barbara her desire to stay hidden if she wanted. "Well enough to know they both had abilities. Niki had inhuman strength and Tracy... well, she redefined the term 'ice queen.' So I'm guessing you have some kind of power as well."

She glanced to the sides quickly. "You'd be guessing right." She smiled again. "As a matter of fact, you weren't wrong when you guessed it wasn't an accident you came in here."

"You can influence people's thoughts?" That almost seemed like Parkman's ability, without the mind-reading part of it.

"Not exactly. I can sense and manipulate the emotions in a room. It makes life pretty easy for me—I moved here two weeks ago and I already got a job and an apartment. People say I just put them at ease." Her smile widened into a grin, baring her teeth. "I saw you when you were out there. Usually, I just kind of let my calming presence radiate out, but you had distress rolling off you in sheets, so..." She shrugged. "Just wanted to help you out a bit. So I shot you with a direct beam of it."

"I felt it. That was incredible. The distress, was that all you felt?"

"No, you were also panicking. Not right then, but you still had some of it on you, so not too long ago. Your clothes absorb your emotions, by the way. And you're... you're lonely. You've been alone for a long time. Years." Her eyes grew dreamy and distant, like she wasn't focusing so much anymore except on her power. It was something he'd witnessed before whenever Peter mentioned The Dream that told him that he, Gabriel, would be the one to save Emma. "There's hope, though, like you're turning your life around. And..." Her eyes widened a bit and snapped right on him. "Heartbreak. Underneath everything, you're still in pain."

Ouch. That hit a little too close to home. "That's an uncanny power," he murmured.

"And now you're nervous." She sighed softly, and a moment later, he felt another soothing wave hit him.

"You pushed that out?"

"You looked like you needed it. Again. So, do you have a power?"

"Yes. It's... complicated. I understand how things work." He definitely wasn't about to explain the part where he killed for abilities for three years. That wasn't a good way to continue a conversation."

"Fair enough. I suppose not everyone should be able to teleport. What happened to you, anyway? To cause all that trauma, I mean."

"I have been alone for years. Over a decade. I mean, literally alone. I can't explain it, it'd take too long, but trust me, for nine years, I literally only saw one other face."

She cocked her head to the side. "You didn't just bust out of solitary confinement, did you?" She laughed a bit, as though to take some of the sting out of the question.

"In a way, I did. Not at a regular prison, don't worry—you won't find any APBs out for me. But..." He was exhausted. Even with Barbara constantly covering him with that comforting aura she had, it was all more social interaction than he'd had in years, and he was drained.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

"No, it's okay. I'd wonder, too." He ran his fingers through his hair. This was the most intense psychoanalysis he'd ever undergone. "So are there any rooms available tonight?"

"Yes, actually," Barbara said brightly. "Let me check..." She looked down to type on her keyboard for a few moments, and Gabriel looked around awkwardly until she spoke up again. "We have four single kings available, a double, and three suites. We had a few cancellations," she added.

"How much is a suite?" He absolutely didn't need one, but he absolutely didn't care, either. After saving thousands of lives and having his heart kicked in the ass (no, he didn't hate Peter, but he hated himself for caring even a little), he just wanted a retreat.

"Four-fifty a night."

"Two nights."

"Okay. I need an ID and a credit card. Any luggage?"

He shook his head and pulled out his wallet. "I live in the city, I just don't feel like going home tonight."

She nodded. "I completely under..." Her voice trailed off and a curious expression crossed her face before she turned her head to look out toward the street. Gabriel couldn't help but followed her gaze.

And then immediately wished he hadn't.

Peter was standing out there on the sidewalk, looking right at them with the same sort of surprise that Gabriel was probably looking at him with. Peter seemed rooted to the spot for a moment, but then he was moving, hurrying through the sliding glass doors into the lobby.

Barbara inhaled sharply. "Oh, my God," she breathed, her voice cracking, and then she doubled over with laughter.

"What the hell?" Peter asked. "Niki? Or are you Tracy?"

"She's Barbara," Gabriel corrected. "The third sister."

Barbara finally stopped giggling, but she continued to smirk. "Barbara Solomon. I met..." She checked the ID in front of her. "Gabriel Gray here, so who are you?"

"Peter. Petrelli. Did he tell you about...?"

"My sisters? He sort of filled me in. On their powers and the fact that we're apparently triplets. I assume you have some sort of power, too, huh?"

"Yeah, I do. Look, Barbara, can you give us a second? I need to talk to Sy—Gabriel for a minute."

"I have a better idea. Let me finish checking in Gabriel, and then the two of you can head up there and... talk." She smirked, and Gabriel immediately knew what she was insinuating. She had a better understanding of the situation than he gave her credit for. He would have been impressed if he wasn't so flat-out embarrassed.

Peter stuttered without saying anything before Barbara just shook her head, giggling again. "Man, you two have issues."

"She can sense people's emotions," Gabriel explained.

"And the two of yours? Pretty much identical right now." She seemed highly amused by that fact, although Gabriel was getting stuck on "pretty much identical." He was mad at himself and embarrassed, but he couldn't help the tiny bit of happiness he felt at seeing Peter again. Even if he couldn't look at him without seeing Emma in his peripherals, some part of him was still happy to have Peter next to him.

Peter was feeling the same thing?

"Got you all checked in," Barbara said, handing Gabriel his ID, credit card, and a tiny envelope with the card key in it. "There's two keys in there." She winked deliberately at him. "Y'know, in case you lose one. Take it upstairs, boys."

"Hasn't anyone told you not to talk to strangers?" Peter asked her as he started following Gabriel to the elevators.

"There's no one stranger than me," she chirped back.

"She seems... enthusiastic," Peter grumbled.

Gabriel hit the button for the elevator. "With her power, I don't blame her. Just before you walked in, she told me exactly what I was feeling."

"And what was that?"

"Where's Emma?" Gabriel countered.

"Emma?" Peter seemed genuinely confused. "She's at home. She had a rough night." He furrowed his eyebrows as the elevator dinged and the doors slid open. "Are you jealous of her?"

"Peter, we both know this is a mistake. Don't push it." Gabriel stepped onto the elevator and hit the button for the fifteenth floor, waiting for Peter to try to force his way on with him, but he didn't.

"Shouldn't we talk about this?" Peter asked. The doors started to close.

"There's nothing to talk about," Gabriel said, and hated himself for saying.

The doors closed on Peter's stunned expression.

There is no way that Peter and Gabriel, having been alone for 9/12 years (show's canon says 5 but that's BS because half a day is 12 hours, not 5, so Sylar was in there for 12 years, not 5), would not be severely fucked-up afterwards. Gabriel, at least, doesn't socialize well.

Also, I love Barbara.