Fic: A Far Distant Future - Volume Two

[vespaer]

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Confessions and Constellations (Part Two)
Characters: Sylar/Claire
Summary: It's amazing what absence will do to the heart...
Rating: "R" for some violence, some blood & guts, and eventually some sexual imagery
Spoilers: Up through season 3 I guess, but this got started before season 4.

A/N: I apologize for the delay, folks! My hubby had a medical procedure that ended up being way more complicated than it needed to be and I discovered I missed my calling as a nursemaid, 2) I don't know what this recent fascination with longwindedness is... yet another rambling long chapter, and 3) Sylaire fans I have ONE word for you: ENJOY. Your day has come. I hope you enjoy reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it =D (split in 2 parts due to size)
Disclaimer: I don't own Heroes or anything remotely related and I bow humbly before the television gods, please have mercy on me. And if I've massively screwed something up, I'd like to know.

The dome generator and the lighthouse sat on a crest overlooking the ocean. It was obvious that the scrubby lawns rolling down to the beach, where they became broken and patched by the invading sand, had once been brutally and irresponsibly terraformed by harmful alien grasses before the feral native varieties got help from a malfunctioning dome. The entire landscape , even at this time of night, was an exotic mix of beauty and chaos.

Feeling ashamed, embarrassed, frightened, and guilty, Gabriel’s promenade of self-reflection was interrupted when he reached the base of the crest. The black mass that loomed above him in the dark appeared hollow - within its face yawned an enormous cave mouth. Curiosity and giddy intrigue overriding his emotional unrest, he picked his way up a few stones until he was able to crawl inside. Finding his new surroundings even darker than what he’d been accustomed to, he held out his left palm and allowed a ball of energy to hover there, casting a flickering blue flare against what he discovered were obviously man-made walls. Judging by his proximity, he was willing to bet the giant tunnel led to the dome generator. He had to know what it was for.

His forward progress was obstructed by a monstrous pile of rock and debris, likely having collapsed as a result of the explosion. Unwilling to be deterred, he used a combination of telekinesis and his own muscle power to navigate his passage through the barrier. Depending on what lie on the other side, this was a mess Carrots might have to help him with later. Once through, his lonely footsteps echoing around him, he had initially thought the reddish hue ahead might’ve been his overactive imagination playing tricks on him in the dark, but after he’d extinguished his spectral lamp he’d been amazed to find it was strong enough to light his path. Contrary to his suspicions about the place, the shaft abruptly widened, opening into an immense, cavernous concrete space. The entire chamber was bathed in the soft scarlet glow of auxiliary lighting that he suspected operated on the same solar circuit as the lighthouse several stories above his head. Lining the truly expansive walls were what appeared to be bays designed for housing shuttle craft, ready with items used in their flight prep procedures, along with crates of the additive used to keep alive what few specimens of the native flora were allowed to flourish under the unlivable conditions of the dome. Unsurprisingly, the shuttles were all gone, having absconded to the safety of open space once the aerial barrier burst like a bubble under the weight of an oppressively poisonous atmosphere - the same one it had waged war with for decades before its controls were violently sabotaged.

But Gabriel was wrong… there was something… all the way at the end… Impatience pulled his feet into a jog. As he approached, the shape coalesced into the form of one lone shuttle. Brilliant! It meant that his little group of refugees wouldn’t have to be completely stranded once he made off with the transport - they could still filter water through the environmental system sealed hermetically within her confines, among other things, and they would still have an escape plan should the unthinkable happen.

He rounded her nose and came into contact with a scene that told a grisly, sorrowful tale, preserved despite the passage of time, waiting to be uncovered. On the far side of the craft, previously hidden from view, she’d taken structural damage from the blast, presumably to her engines. Desperate for escape, willing to take the chance that the vehicle could still fly, two bodies still occupied her cockpit, huddled close to each other behind the pilot’s controls. From his vantage point, he could only make them out from the shoulders up. They were pressed together in a final embrace.

His feet wouldn’t budge. Still reeling from the bewildering confession Claire had made to him, his mind swirled with aching thoughts as he pondered the portrait mummified before him. Their cheeks and eye sockets had sunken and their skin held a strangely yellow-grey leathery pallor, but they still had their hair, their fingernails… their eyelashes, sweeping down over their faces, closed in a heartbreaking expression of loving serenity. At least they had been together.

In all of his life, Gabriel had never faced death - at least not his own… except for maybe that one failed attempt at hanging… and then there was that other time, with the sword… But while he’d spent centuries in prison with not much else to occupy him outside of his regrets, he’d always been positive that, whomever he may become, his only certainty would be that he would have time. As he stared at the ill-begotten star-crossed lovers, he wondered if they’d felt the same way he did, standing on the edge of a deep chasm plunging into the unknown, wishing he’d done… more.

Wishing he’d have told her…

And in the end they’d had something that he’d blindly tossed to the sea like a snake he was afraid would bite him. When their time had come, they’d held onto it… and he ran from it. It was because he had nothing but time. What if they weren’t good together? What if they grew to hate each other? What if he forsake her friendship, did something monumentally stupid, broke her heart? He didn’t want to face eternity alone, and before now he had her. But now… now he wasn’t so sure he had time. All it would take would be one collar… one good shot to the head… and he’d gasp his last breath wishing he still had her in his arms. The way these two did.

He didn’t want to die alone.

Ready to move on, he blinked at the pair in farewell but promised to return in the morning to give them a proper burial. He stepped around to inspect the destroyed section of the shuttle’s hull. It’s motherboard was completely fried - irreparable for someone who didn’t possess the ability to map and electrically solder new circuitry. Fortunately, he wasn’t just anyone. As he prodded pieces of twisted metal and toasted wires he felt a draft brush across the back of his neck. Turning to face the wall behind him he saw for the first time that a large stretch of it had been obliterated, blown inward in large, jagged chunks, presumably by the blast. Amongst the rubble appeared to be the ruined shapes of a door and some stair railing. As he’d suspected, on the other side lay the generator chamber. Smiling to himself, he recognized that there was more than one lesson to be had in learning how to trust his judgment.

He pulled himself up the pile and climbed inside the familiar room, pleasantly humming with the sound of at least one properly working drive array (for now). Its musical language of clicks, buzzes, and whirs sang to him the vow that it would happily and faithfully carry out its duty, keeping these people alive… safeguarding the woman he loved. He stood before it for a few moments, watching it work, marveling over how it could do so when he’d really only MacGuyvered it back together with not much more than scrap metal, faulty wiring, powers of disintegration and electrical charge, and some chewing gum… But then, out of the corner of his eye, he was distracted by a small object that he hadn’t seen before and certainly hadn’t left there.

It was a fet. A fucking Hello Kitty pink one. And there was a note beside it. His toes curled and he grimaced. He wasn’t sure he wanted to read that note, knowing who it was from, acutely aware of how he’d left their last… encounter. Morosely sorry, he decided he owed her, if nothing more, the integrity to hear her out. He opened the envelope and unfolded the paper concealed within.

‘I promised you this a long time ago if you upheld your end of the bargain. It’s way overdue. It was falling apart due to age so I had it converted to digital format - I have a copy in the folder called Old_Stuff, I couldn’t access the network share. I don’t think we have net coverage here. Anyway, you let your remorse run your life Gabriel. It’s time to let it go and live. I forgive you, so forgive yourself. If you die tomorrow, die happy.’

He read the note twice before he folded it into his t-shirt pocket. Curiosity once again guiding his body against his brain’s wishes, he reached for the fet and turned it on. She’d left it with the file explorer open. He selected the folder she’d mentioned and his eyes were immediately drawn to a file named ‘for_gabe’. Certain that ‘pictures’ and ‘nursing_notes’ weren’t what he was looking for, he opened the file. What loaded to stare back at him caused his knees to buckle. Landing hard on his tailbone in shock, he clamped a hand over his breathless mouth, temporarily blinded by hot, stinging tears. Suddenly delirious with joy, he laughed a bitter sob against his fingers.

It was the photograph Claire had held teasingly between her fingertips in a hotel room, lifetimes ago - the picture of a raven-haired beauty, the one whose featureless face had guided him when things had been unbearably rough, the one whose name had been robbed from him as a child along with her bitterly coveted memory. The one who’d been ruthlessly executed for… wanting to keep him. He settled himself, straightening his legs as he dropped his hand away to stroke the high-definition pixels of her face, and salty liquid trickled into the corner of his mouth as he shakily whispered her name for the first time he could remember.

“Robin Elaine Matthews Gray.” He tilted his head as he studied her, finding shades of himself in her elegant dark eyebrows and in the shape of her mouth. “Hello, mom.”

He read the text attached - read about her life, her marriage, her son, her death. Her ability. She had been an empath - it was the gift she had given him. She had been a nurse. She had taken ballet lessons as a girl. She had grown up in the rolling hills of western Pennsylvania. She had collected books, most of them biographies - she liked people.

He let the fet fall to his lap between listless hands and rolled his back, allowing his eyes to soak his smile and images to flood his mind. She had an agile tongue and a hearty laugh that would make her snort if she really got going. She would let him play with his toy cars on the counter sometimes, while she cooked. Of obvious Italian descent somewhere, she loved pasta, loved fresh tomatoes… grew them, yes! She grew them! On the patio, along with an herb box containing basil, parsley, rosemary… a few other things. She’d chide him for tormenting june bugs while she worked in her tulip garden. She made the best peanut butter banana sandwiches - with ten slices of banana, doubling the one in the middle to give it a sweet center… just like her sweetheart… her angel… She read him Aesop’s Fables before bed every night, threading her fingers through his damp, freshly-bathed hair while her voice lulled him to safe, warm sleep, and he… he still remembered them to this day, knew them by heart. His favorite had always been the Lion and the Mouse…

Claire was so brave. She’d met him eye to eye and ripped the thorn right out of him.

Emotionally spent and becoming sleepy, he thought it might be a good time to redeem himself to her for the evening. Placing her fet in his shorts pocket, he tiredly plodded his way out to the lawn. Of all the shadowy, people-shaped lumps lining the bonfire’s smoldering vestiges, hers was the most immediately recognizable with regards to its diminutive size. A tan quilt separated her skin from the sand as she lay curled up in her silken shawl, toasting in the warm molten glow of the ember light. He brought himself down beside her, both knees sinking into the malleable ground, and he boldly let one hand slowly smooth down her side, rippling the material from her waist to her knee. She sniffed a little but remained asleep. Lacking a proper pillow, her neck was bent uncomfortably, and she had her hands drawn tightly across her elbows. Unable to help himself, he lowered his body against hers, gently snaking an arm under her head to give it proper support, and draping his other arm around her waist to pull her into a soft embrace. He pressed his mouth against her neck, hot from the fire, her scent filling his senses and her pulse beating against his lips. Heart still raw with rushing memories, he let the words tumble out of him, having no strength left to stop them.

“Loved you for four hundred years,” he murmured against her velvety skin. “Love you so much it hurts. Love you so much it makes me helpless… so much you make me a slave… Love you within an inch of my own life, I swear to god I’ll give you anything you want. Anything. I’d go to the ends of the earth, Claire, whatever you want. Love you til the end of time, I swear to god I will… love you so much… I mean it… Love you so much you keep me alive…”

She shifted slightly and reached an arm around to run her searching fingers through his hair. He sniffled wetly and his eyes clamped shut at the contact, drenching her parched shoulder with fresh tears.

“Love you til the end of time… swear to god I will…”

“Shhhh…” she hushed drowsily as she caressed his neck… the shell of his ear… the length of his jaw. And there, under the countless nameless constellations, he bore his soul to her, worshipped her, grateful to be granted the privilege of her tender ministrations, until sleep finally silenced him.

~*~*~

Claire stretched luxuriously, the previous night’s exchange still lingering through her dream-clouded mind. She twisted around, sighing contentedly as her spine made several satisfying pops, fully expecting to mash her face into the firm musculature of his chest to avoid assaulting him with her morning breath… only to find he wasn’t there at all. She stopped mid-groan and sat bolt upright when an enormous splash startled her to full consciousness.

She was alone, still huddled next to a lightly smoking circle of ash and spent charcoal. She drew her drape around her more securely, warding off the dawn’s damp chill, taking a peaceful moment to appreciate the wholly alien panorama. Facing the west, the sun was rising behind her, hidden by the house. The sky shifted colors across its expanse from pale buttery yellow to lime to aqua to something becoming a tad more purple. She assured herself she’d grow accustomed to the sight, but she couldn’t take her eyes off of it… until another deafeningly wet crash made her jump yet again. Getting her feet underneath her, she pounded her way down to the beach.

Louisa and Arturo emerged from the transport as she approached, arms full with rations and containers of fresh water. As they nodded good morning to her, she couldn’t help but wonder if they were really stocking up while they could… because the ship would be leaving today… with a certain man on it. A certain missing man.

“You slep’ well…” Louisa drawled as she sidled up next to her, hoping she could dump some of her burden into Claire’s empty arms. It had been a statement, not a question. Claire shrugged noncommittally and accepted a heavy jug of water just in time to see a mammoth boulder fly from the side of the crest to plunge noisily into the ocean.

“Christ on a cracker!”

“Jesse be doin’ some cleanin’ for your sweetheart.” Claire didn’t try to refute the term. “Dere be a big cave up ‘ere.”

Curiosity piqued but arms becoming rubbery, she followed Louisa back to the house where they discovered Kelly working vigorously on thawing several different food items from frozen storage. On the counter, within arm’s length, was the first aid kit from the transport which included a sub-kit for poisons and toxins (which predominantly featured the centuries’ old tried and true method - Syrup of Ipecac). It didn’t take a psychic or a mind-reader to clearly see that Claire was going to be the guinea pig in a series of experiments later on that morning… but she was happy to do so. The sacrifice of a few uncomfortable moments would ultimately save lives.

“Mmmm breakfast!” she called good-naturedly. “Whatcha makin’?”

“Eggs, I hope,” Kelly answered, “and there’s some really nice looking steaks in here too.”

“Well, this little Texan can appreciate a good start like that,” Claire returned, aware that someone as relatively young as Kelly (despite her aged appearance) wouldn’t understand the reference. Depositing her load, her attention was snared by the sound of engines bearing down on the beach. All three women locked eyes with each other before racing out of the house.

Immediately after the battered shuttle landed Jesse appeared at her aft, gingerly carrying two carefully wrapped bundles. He slowly laid them down as if they were so fragile they’d crumble into dust. He rubbed his hands on his pants and turned to face them, jerking a thumb over his shoulder.

“You should’ve seen this thing earlier - swear, the guy can fix anything!”

“You have no idea…” Claire mumbled, inaudible over the sound of the turbines winding down. “What’re those?” she gestured a bit more loudly.

“Bodies. Apparently we’re gonna have a funeral.”

The grim thought left her mind as quickly as it had entered the instant the shuttle’s pilot set foot on the sand. Butterflies bubbled in her belly at the sight of his face - it was the first time she’d seen him clearly in the daylight since they’d told each other… her heart seized when his eyes met hers. She couldn’t fight the flush that rose to her cheeks when his expression softened into something a shade more lusty and sensual. She sucked on her lip to keep her drool in her mouth. She stood her ground as he approached, secretly aching for the proximity he granted her freely, stopping to tower over her, his breath tickling her forehead. She wanted to tuck her hands under his shirt and rake them over every inch of his silky soft skin…

“I brought you something,” he purred, indicating the cooling hunk of machinery behind him.

“For me? You shouldn’t have,” she returned with an expression that belied her tone.

“C’mon Jesse, we got a couple holes to dig,” Arturo called before both men moved off. Kelly had already retreated to the kitchen leaving Louisa behind, bent down to inspect the mummies. While not under immediate scrutiny, Claire stood on her tiptoes and brought her cheek to his, reaching her lips toward the tender flesh of his earlobe.

“I missed you this morning,” she whispered, the feel of his body against hers shooting pangs of pleasure straight into her groin. She sighed against his neck as she backed away and he brought both hands up to cup her face. His eyes dived into hers heavily.

“I’m sorry.”

She quickly deciphered what his expression was telling her. Icy cold realization ran down her spine.

“You mean to leave today, don’t you.”

He hung his head, providing her the answer she’d feared.

“I just want to get it over with,” he breathed, “so I can come home.” He put a strong emphasis on the word - the meaning was not lost on her. Their shared understanding placated her slightly. She slid both of her hands down his arms and threaded her fingers into his, squeezing them tightly in reluctant acquiescence. It was something that needed to be done… it was something the man had to do… and a part of her wouldn’t have been so proud of him if he didn’t. Falling prey to a sudden instinctual drive to claim him as her own, she rocked forward on her toes again and smoothed her lips over his cheek, drawing them to the corner of his mouth, noticing how his hands clamped strongly around her own, feeling his chest jerk against her with his quick gasp… he tilted his head toward her…

“Okay, I’m gonna start with the eggs!” Kelly called. “And yes, I’m lookin’ at you two! Come tell me if these are any good!”

Claire growled and rolled her eyes while Gabriel scowled in very apparent annoyance. Begrudgingly, they obliged the woman, really shitty timing notwithstanding.

~*~*~

“Seal integrity?”

“One hundred percent, check.”

“Check. Emergency oxygen kit?”

“Umm, yes, kit is situated by the port, it appears to be in working order. Check.”

“Check.”

As if the morning hadn’t been uncomfortable enough, having spent ‘breakfast’ rather green until they discovered that the foods kept in sealed containers remained largely unaffected by the enveloping toxins, and this was then followed by the burial of two rather grisly and shriveled dead husks… now Claire felt like she was assisting Gabriel with his own suicide. She gulped against acid reflux, agitated by anxiety.

“Passenger and cargo area secure?” she read from the long, exhausting list. On the other hand, she was grateful to have these last few moments alone with him, while Jesse and Arturo were busy building a garden to grow fresh, oxygen-loving foodstuffs and the ladies were cycling thawed meat and eggs through the shuttle’s scrubbing contamination unit. Gabriel moved to the passenger section of the long craft and cinched up the cots that had been used to accommodate them during their exodus from the Taurus sector.

“I think we’re secure now, check.”

“Check.”

“What’ve we got left?”

“Environmental then power. What, you chompin’ at the bit? Can’t wait to get out of here?” she spat, bitterly. She wanted to say she didn’t mean it… but she did.

“Yeah… can’t wait to jump back into space in another exploding bucket… I don’t exactly have a great track record with spaceships, Claire…”

In truth, however, irrational fears aside, they both knew the whole flight check was one big stalling mechanism. The ship had flown just fine the day before - she’d barely had the time to cool off before now, when he was about to reignite her engines. Claire kept her eyes on the clipboard, not wanting to let him see how much they’d filled with sadness, not wishing to make the situation harder than it already was. He slipped the object from between her fingers and tucked it under his arm. She looked up to gaze into his apologetic face and lost her composure, crumpling into her hands, concealing the angry tears that were ripped from her by fate and its cosmic unfairness. Without hesitating he gripped her shoulders and pulled her shaking frame against his own, steadying her and attempting to calm her.

“Why did I scare you?” she sobbed against his shirt, twisting her fists in the fabric. “Why would I leave you? What were you thinking you were gonna do that was so much worse than what you’ve done to me already?” She wondered if she meant to include her current state of torment.

“You didn’t scare me, Claire,” he murmured against her hair, “I’m just an idiot.”

Stepping away, pushing the backs of her hands against her wet, flushed cheeks, she hiccupped, “well, you have to leave that idiot behind - if you’re walking back into the fire I want you going smart. I don’t wanna spend forever alone any more than you do.”

“I know,” he promised, “I know. I’m, uh… I’m gonna start ‘er up, Claire. Meet me outside, will ya?”

She nodded and stroked his shoulder as she turned toward the exit bay at the aft.

The thundering turbines, spooling energy as they prepared for liftoff, drew a lot of attention. Certainly ready to see one less eyesore on the pristine stretch of beach, the group of refugees assembled to see Gabriel off and wish him luck. Kelly approached him first as he stepped out to say goodbye, handing him a wrapped bundle.

“I wish it was a bunch of sandwiches,” she muttered, “but the bread’s still questionable. You’ve got some soup, some veggies, and some canned ham for the road.”

“Thank you, that’s very kind.”

He shook hands with the men, rattling off a quick list of reminders on emergency procedures for the dome generator. The heads between their deaf ears nodded with mock gratitude.

And then he turned to her. He was drowning in uncharted territory - a witty repertoire wasn’t going to suffice here. For a split, panicked moment he wasn’t sure he’d be able to summon the courage to kiss her. He was so practiced at keeping a respectable distance between them that the idea felt completely… foreign. He didn’t know where to start… and there were so many people watching… but he couldn’t just leave…

She stepped up to him, her glassy gaze piercing him, tipped just beneath his chin. She was so small yet so formidable - a warrior, a goddess, a petite flame of fiery conviction. How could he beg her to let him put his mouth on hers? How could she possibly find him worthy of such lofty affection? He turned a cheek to her - a cowardly display of timid insecurity. She would have none of it. Warm, tentative fingers pressed against his face, drawing him back around to confront the expression that enchanted him so thoroughly. Enraptured him. She was staring at the lovely divot just beneath his nose, dusted with feathery dark stubble rounding a leisurely path to his chin.

“Leave the idiot behind, Gabe… kiss me,” she hissed.

Surprising himself with a sudden lack of hesitation at her command, he tangled his hands in her hair, sucking in a deep invigorating breath, and he diligently obeyed her. He closed his eyes and brushed his trembling lips against hers, encouraged when she opened them to him - opened herself to him. She tasted him with a sweet pink tongue, sucking him greedily into her, mewling her consent, tenderly raking her fingernails up his sides, across his back, over his shoulders… his body went totally numb. He felt weightless, everything dropped away as he fervently fulfilled the urgent need to complete himself with her soft, cotton-candy kiss. He pulled away, tilted to the other side, and savored her again more firmly, warming her cheek with a lusty sigh, kneading his fingers down the muscles of her neck and spine, encircling her waist, meeting every inch of her shape with his own, desperate to prolong the spell… even though he knew he couldn’t

He severed the contact but brushed his forehead against hers, lovingly combing through her hair.

“I will be right back,” he whispered against her nose.

“You better be,” she panted, sweeping her hands across the planes of his heaving chest, stopping where she could feel his heart pounding. “And don’t wait so long this time.”

“I won’t.”

Her fingers dragged down his front as she fought to let him go, remaining where stood was as he backed away from her. The air between them grew cold and his eyes shone with frantic fearful regret. He made one last weak gesture, waving goodbye, before he swallowed and wheeled an about face, stalking with his chin held high toward the transport, a condemned man traveling his last mile.

Long after the craft lifted to the air and disappeared through the semi-permeable dome into the thick, venomous atmosphere above, and the day succumbed to evening allowing hatefully cheerful constellations to show their faces and mock her sorrow, Claire watched the sky and prayed to a God she wasn’t sure she existed.

“Please, Lord… please bring him home.”