A/N: I don't own Heroes or anything remotely related and I bow humbly before the television gods, please have mercy on me. Rated "M" for language, some violence, some blood & guts, and eventually some sexual imagery. And please review! If I've massively screwed something up, I'd like to know =D

Slowly – A Prologue

To say they fell slowly is a gross understatement. "Slowly", to ordinary folks, would seem to suggest an ordinary concept of time - perhaps the passage of a couple years. Maybe a few more. However, to a timeless being, an ageless wanderer, "slowly" is...

Well.... see, that's the funny part, right?

"Slowly" is the act of waking up to the realization like a brick to the face, after several centures of an intermittent yet turbulent history together, sitting slack-jawed in amazement thinking, "Oh... Oh god... oh dear god, lord in heaven, how did this happen," that things didn't turn out quite like they'd been planned.

She lets the lapping sea foam drag the sand from between her toes, knowing that the next swell will only deposit it back where it came, an endless cycle bearing striking similarity, she contemplates, to the movements of her own life. She ponders the word "slowly" as it relates to her while she leans back and tips her head past her shoulders, allowing her hair to pick up stray grains of sand that she knows will only end up buried somewhere uncomfortably in her bathing suit. Until he removes it... and then who knows where the sand will end up. She basks her smile in the warm, pink and golden twilight, unable to suppress a breathy, mirthful giggle as she tips a Corona to her lips.

"What's so funny, Claire?"

Damn those ears, picking up on everything all the dang time.

She rolls her head lazily in his direction and meets his amused gaze - trouble lurking in dark eyes under a darker, furrowed brow. He looks ready to pounce at any moment, muscles tensed with a wicked scheme in his mind, curiosity tugging at the corner of his mouth, holding his breath waiting for her answer. There might be tickling about to ensue... Even after all these years he still looks like he's going to eat her. Warm excitement blooms in her belly as she digs her heels in the sand and bites her lip, ready to spring and give chase, however their game demands she keep the beer in her hand. If she puts it down, she tips her hand that she knows what he's thinking. There will be time to fling it after he catches her and she wraps her arms around his neck. Somewhere in there, yeah.

The only answer he gets from her is a sneer and the quick flash of a pink tongue, then there's sand in his face as she launches from her position, cackling and squealing like a madwoman, pounding her short little legs across the beach, eyes flashing at him over her shoulder. Beckoned by her bouncing hair (and he's totally not looking at her boobs at ALL) he deftly dodges the thrown beer bottle and propels himself after her. Given the advantage he has over her with his height, she proves easy quarry. He decides telekinesis is for pussies as he reaches for her sand-patched skin and thrumming pulse. At some point after his arms circle her waist, lifting her into the air, toppling them both into the surf as a giggling, writhing mass of kisses and limbs, her mind wanders back, asking her the same question again.

"How did this happen?"