Ooooookie-dokie, first thing's first:

This chapter has intense 'M' scenes for just about the last half… If it's a problem for you, then skip it. I've marked the breakers as usual with a bunch of exclamation points to make it easier to skip… But if you do, don't miss the little bit at the end!

I guess that was the only point of order for this round. Enjoy!

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The first thing Noah Bennet did, once he had collected himself into some sort of calm state, was call Lauren Gilmore. She was his former partner at the Company and now his current love interest. He had to use the phone at the motel since his cell phone was lying in pieces on the floor by the wall obviously beyond repair.

He had ordered Lauren to station herself outside Claire's apartment building with a stern warning that she call him as soon as she spotted Sylar "or anyone with Claire; remember he's a shifter."

Settling himself on the edge of the tacky comforter Noah then removed his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Claire," he growled. "How could you be such a stupid girl? I told you to stay away from him."

Why his daughter felt the need to be in contact with Sylar was only part of what ailed Noah. The much bigger part of this strange equation that added to his worries was what exactly Sylar wanted with Claire.

"You have her power," he muttered out loud, as if the monster himself were right there in the room with him.

"What more could you want?" It was obvious, really, what more Sylar could want with Claire. And that's what troubled the concerned father beyond imagining. But that line of thinking sent Noah skyrocketing into an incredibly uncomfortable nauseous state, so he refused to acknowledge it.

"Sylar isn't even capable of that," his naïve daughter had claimed. That foolish statement only made the ex-Company man's blood boil. What did she know what that monster was capable of? And why did she care what Noah thought of him?

Sighing, he reclined back on the uncomfortable twin mattress. He had known immediately when Lauren told him that Sylar contacted Claire that it would get far more complicated than it needed to be. He couldn't ignore the nagging suspicion in the back of his mind that told him something more was going on, something that he couldn't see; or didn't want to see. Something that made Claire react to their dinner (or lack thereof) with such intense indignity and resentment.

"What did you say to her, you son of a bitch?" Noah growled out loud once more, practically feeling his sanity slipping away with each bit out word. "And what's your end game?"

He wanted to call Petrelli and ask him what the hell was going on; find out if he had seen or spoken to Claire at all recently. His hand floated over to the empty bedside table and then to his pocket before he realized that his cell phone still lay broken and useless in the corner of the room. He hissed a curse of aggravation for his hastily furious (albeit appropriate) reaction, and for not having more numbers memorized.

Well… there's one number I remember that I can try.

Picking up the motel phone once more, Noah hesitantly punched out the number. It rang longer than it usually would have. What did that mean? After the fifth ring Noah began to panic. What's taking so long? What is she doing? Is everything okay? Should I just go…?

His thoughts ceased as the ringing stopped abruptly; then the hesitant, musical voice said, "…Hello?"

"Claire, it's Dad," he explained, "I'm calling from my motel room…I lost my cell."

He could almost hear the frown in her tone, "That's not like you."

"I know; I've been preoccupied. About the other night—"

"I'm sorry about that, Dad," his adopted daughter sighed. "I've just been pretty stressed and…I don't know, I think I'm just tired of people trying to protect me. It was immature of me to storm out like that, especially when it's been so long…Sorry," she apologized again.

"It's okay, Claire-bear. Believe it or not, I understand where you're coming from. You need to realize that you have a lot of people that love you that will always be watching out for you. But I promise sweetheart that I'll try to back off a little—"

"That's great," she interrupted, her voice slightly breathless and rushed. "I've actually gotta run—I'm really sorry. I'll call you soon, okay? Love you!" And just like that, their conversation appeared to be over.

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After stopping off to buy and activate a track phone (a convenient temporary solution until he could stop in for a new phone), Noah Bennet sat in the driver's seat of his car, staring at the keypad. I almost don't want to know…

After he dialed, the phone barely made it through one full ring before Lauren's voice assaulted him. "Noah?"

"Yes, have—"

Lauren interrupted him with a great sigh and a rush of words. "Thank God, I've been calling your room non-stop for ten minutes now! They left—together—walking. I followed. You need to get over here. I'm at 23rd and Haplan."

"I'll be there in five," he curtly responded, snapping his phone shut and revving the engine to life.

Four minutes and twenty-three seconds later, Noah pulled up behind his partner. He slid out from his car into hers deftly. As soon as he entered the vehicle the creases in his forehead furrowed a little deeper with worry when he saw the expression of grim determination on Lauren's lovely face. And he didn't like that look one little bit, yet he followed her field of vision where her eyes were locked straight ahead the whole time.

"They're having breakfast," she muttered rather disgustingly, waving a finger to where a young couple sat in the restaurant window. "He's having the waffles and she got French toast."

"What?" was all Noah could manage, as he peered ahead to watch his daughter and her should-be nemesis amicably talking over their meal.

"They're holding hands," Lauren stated incredulously. "You can't see it now but—wait—" she paused as a waitress swung by their table and Sylar raised his hand to beckon her back, pointing to what appeared to be their empty coffee mugs.

"There," Lauren proclaimed. Noah watched as Sylar brought his hand back down to the table, shifted slightly, and threaded his fingers into those of Claire's. The shy smile that lit up her face made Noah want to vomit.

"Did we get sucked into a parallel universe or something?" he asked, almost half serious.

"Am I dreaming?"

"I'm afraid not, Noah," she sighed. "You should have seen them walking together: bumping into and nudging each other, racing. It's like they're—" Lauren stopped speaking and pulled her eyes from Noah's, replacing her vision on the couple before them.

"Like they're what, Lauren?" Noah asked, and something in his voice made her cringe as she answered.

"Dating."

The word almost made him gag. "Let's go," he suggested, swinging the car door open and heading for the restaurant.

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Claire couldn't believe how happy and carefree she felt once she finally decided to leave Sylar in the past forever. She actually had to stop herself from giggling as Gabriel placed a forkful of syrup-drenched waffles in her mouth.

"Mm!" she agreed, nodding as she chewed. When her bite had been properly masticated and swallowed, she added, "Those are some delicious waffles."

Gabriel's returning grin could have given her the power of flight, "I told you so!"

As Claire glanced down to the table, where their hands sat, fingers intertwined, the whole world seemed to stop- literally. Claire glanced up and around her, then back to Gabriel's face. He looked…mildly concerned. "What happened?" Claire questioned him anxiously.

"I stopped time. I wanted to give you a moment to have your panic attack and then collect yourself," at her blank stare, Gabriel nodded his head behind her, eyes darkening. "Your dad just walked in."

Claire felt panic claw up through her like a cat on curtains, and as she twisted around in her booth, all hopes of 'Well, maybe he hasn't seen us…' vanished when she spotted his frozen glare, focused solely on the pair of them.

She instinctively let a deep gulp of oxygen into her lungs and blew it out through her nose, slowly, demanding that her brain force her heart to start again. She clasped and then unclasped her hands together, ran them over her top, tucking her hair behind her ears; Gabriel sat still across from her, his only movement in his eyes as he watched Claire's nervous actions.

He couldn't gauge how she was going to react, that was why he had stopped time. He half expected her to beg him to help her escape; expected tears, at the very least. So he was surprised (pleasantly so) when Claire took another deep breath and began nodding.

"Well…" she shrugged. "It was going to happen sometime, right? I might as well get it over with."

"You're not scared?" Gabriel's head tilted slightly to the right, and Claire couldn't help thinking of the calculating gaze that Sylar always had pinned on her when he did that.

She gave him a small smirk that asked him if he really thought so little of her. "I can handle my father, thank you. I appreciate the heads up though," she added on seriously, giving him a grateful nod. Claire's stomach clenched and unclenched as she waited for time to start again.

Instead, Gabriel leaned over the table, bringing one of his warm hands to her cheek to guide her to him. His lips slipped over hers and he kissed her softly, deeply. When he pulled away, he was smiling at her like she'd never seen before.

"What?" Claire asked, a wave of self-consciousness washing over her for reasons unknown.

Gabriel just shook his head, replacing his hand over hers on the table. "You're just wonderful, is all."

Time began around her once more, but Claire felt as if it were still frozen. When Gabriel hastily pulled his hands under the table, Claire realized that her father was just finishing his march to their booth.

"Claire, Sylar!" he greeted, his cheerful tone so obviously fake that it nearly made Claire's stomach turn. "What a surprise!"

The man across from her leaned back in his booth, arms folded behind his head casually. "Not really," Sylar countered swiftly, "seeing as you've had your dogs tailing me for the past two weeks. I'm curious as to your sudden interest in me, Noah."

The young blonde's head bobbed back and forth between her father and—what was Gabriel… her friend, her lover, her partner?—to gauge the men's reactions.

She only gave a passing glance of interest to Lauren, who stood a foot behind Noah looking very much like she didn't want to be caught up in this. It was as if Sylar had decided to pop back in for vacation; the second her father showed up he started his little game of cat and mouse, goading him on relentlessly until he would lose control and—and what?

What would her adoptive father, Company man extraordinaire, do when he lost control?

"I've got a curiosity of the same nature, actually, regarding you and Claire. What are you two doing here?" he ground out the question through clenched teeth.

Gabriel was no longer an active participant of Noah's interrogation. Sylar was front and center now for all to see. And God, as much as Claire hated to admit it, her father really brought the beast out in him. Nevertheless the man in question gave Noah a breezy smile, raising his hands in innocence. "Just a couple of old acquaintances, catching up," he glanced over to Claire and gave her a wink as he caught her eye.

Noah Bennet had had enough, it seemed, because he turned his attention solely to Claire now. "How can you sit across from that monster after everything he's done to your family?" he hissed.

Up until this point Claire really hadn't been sure what she was feeling. But now she felt anger bloom inside her. It was something deeper than anger, really. More like…rage…or fury. "I know full well what Sylar has done," she stated softly, her head bowed.

She looked up at her father slowly, her anger glinting in her eyes dangerously. "But everything that was done was done to me. He didn't kill your parents, or cut your head open, or make you miserable for six years—it was me. So don't you worry about who I'm hanging around because it's for me to deal with, not you."

Her father gave her that familiar look, the one that said 'Claire-Bear, you're being childish and you need to grow up and listen to me. That was the one expression that was so condescending; it made her crazy enough to want to claw his face off. "Claire," he started, and her ears nearly automatically shut off at his patronizing tone, "Sylar took Nathan from all of us, not just you."

"Don't… You… DARE talk about Nathan," Claire hissed at him, about ready to slap him and storm out. Stay calm, Claire, she told herself, storming out is childish. You have to work through this…somehow… "You always hated him and you don't give a shit that he's gone—you proved that much when you had a hand in throwing Sylar into his body without any consideration for me, or Peter, or Nathan."

Noah shifted uncomfortably; Lauren had a hand over her mouth in surprise. "Maybe this isn't the best place for this conversation," he tried, glimpsing around them to see if they'd been noticed.

"Well that's too bad, because this is where it's happening," his daughter declared, and she stood up and pushed Gabriel over to sit next to him, gesturing to the empty booth across from them. "Please have a seat," she requested sickly-sweet.

Noah obliged; Lauren still looked as if she wanted to make a run for it. Claire was proud of Gabriel when he allowed her to slowly slide in next to her partner instead of forcing her to like a doll. When they'd settled across from them, Noah began again.

"Claire, this is Sylar we're talking about."

"No," she corrected as softly as she could considering her furious state, "This is Gabriel. Sylar is what you and Elle made him."

Noah appeared flustered for a moment, embarrassment clearly etched across his face. Claire had somehow found out about the crucial role he had played in the downfall of Gabriel Gray. It had not been his proudest moment. But it was a secret he had hoped to keep hidden from his family.

"That's right," Claire continued on in a hushed, angry tone, "I know all about that. All about how you goaded him into acquiring another ability. About how you practically hand-fed him someone's life—"

"Claire," it wasn't her father who interrupted her, but Gabriel, "that's enough," he stated softly, "It's in the past."

Claire glanced over to Gabriel nodding slightly as she fell silent. She sighed as she mulled over what title to give him. Claire wasn't sure of that exactly. But one thing was certain; she wanted Gabriel around more and more. His presence alone was comforting as she gained the strength to confront her father. She slightly smiled as the pair of them looked at Noah simultaneously. And when Gabriel's hand found Claire's thigh underneath the tabletop, giving it a reassuring squeeze, she knew then he'd never leave her side, ever.

As she felt the warmth of his touch, the butterflies in her stomach began to flutter madly. The idea of sitting across from her father and his, partner…girlfriend while having such intimate contact with Gabriel excited and empowered her. One of her own hands found her belly, in a vain attempt to soothe the imaginary winged creatures within, as the other placed itself over Gabriel's on her knee.

They all sat there in silence before Claire finally found the appropriate words, "People change."

Noah's gaze darkened on her small form, darting furiously over to her company from time to time. "Not all people change, Claire."

Claire had had enough. Taking Gabriel's hand firmly in one of her own, she stood. "Well, some people do, Noah," Gabriel stood with her, tossing two twenties down on the table, leaving quite a generous tip for their waitress.

"You, contrarily, never will," she stated with finality.

And that was it. As easy as that, Claire had decided to shove her only remaining father and all of his concerns out of her mind. After all, it was hard enough for her to concentrate just holding Gabriel's hand.

With their heads held high they silently departed from the restaurant. And after a few short paces Gabriel led her to an alley just a block down. "You did so well," he praised her while clasping his large hands around her face lovingly. "I'm so proud of you, Claire."

That was when the poor cheerleader lost it, though. She let the tears in her eyes brim over, and a sob escaped her throat as she buried her face into Gabriel's chest. "That was hard," she moaned into his shirt.

Gabriel stroked her hair, shushing her as he pulled her back to wipe away her tears. "Do you want me to take you home?"

Claire shook her head. "No. He can find me there."

"Where then?" Gabriel murmured against her cheek.

"Yours," Claire answered softly, tilting her head up so her lips could find his; the feeling was so second-nature to her now that it scared her.

And in blink of an eye, they were gone from the space they had just occupied in the alley. Then in the next moment they rematerialized in Gabriel's bedroom.

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Noah darted out of the small eatery, searching anxiously for his daughter; they couldn't leave things like this. He had to know why…

Why Sylar? Why did she call him Gabriel now? Why was she holding his hand?

Noah Bennet was extremely lucky yet at the same time ill-fated in his choice of direction. Lucky in the sense that it was actually the same route his daughter and her…'friend' had fled.

Although that luck ran out the moment he reached the corner of the first alleyway only to spot his beloved daughter wrapped in the arms of his nemesis, lips pressed together as if they were sustaining each other's lives.

And then in an instant they were gone.

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Their lips never broke contact as they stumbled backwards and fell to Gabriel's queen-sized bed. He rolled them over so he hung over Claire. He couldn't help the smile that had found its way onto his lips. Seeing her lie breathless beneath him was enough to make him want to cry with joy.

"Claire," he groaned against her luscious mouth. "God, I love you." Crap! Did he just say that? Would he live to regret uttering the very words that could finally obliterate his fragile mind and heart? Stupid, he thought, you're lucky to have this much of her, why would you push it so—

"Funny thing, about emotions," she whispered hotly into his ear, her ample bosom heaving for oxygen. He could actually feel her small tight body quivering under his with what- anticipation or maybe fright?

But then she made the most astonishing declaration, "Hate can turn to love at the drop of a hat. I fucking hated Sylar."

Claire brought her hands up to pull his face down to hers, giving him a heated, desperate kiss. "But I love Gabriel. I love him. I love you," she breathed against his skin, quick enough for it to be considered one word instead of three separate thoughts; Gabriel crushed his mouth to hers with equal desperation.

Claire hugged his body to hers, her hands slipping under his black t-shirt to glide over his bare skin. Shivers of delight coursed through his body as her fingers ran up and down his back. After a minute of examining his taut flesh, Claire's hands fisted around the bottom of the fabric and ripped it up and off of him, which brought on an unbearable separation of their lips if only for a few seconds.

The primal male in Gabriel couldn't help interpreting Claire's sudden aggressiveness as an open invitation to ravage her. And for a brief moment he actually considered using his telekinesis to strip her down to her unmentionables. He decided, however, to savor the feeling of slowly removing each article clothing her by hand, piece by piece.

In fact, ever since he had laid eyes on her at Homecoming, some part of him had always imagined this moment. Although he to admit to himself, that during that time he had lusted for her power more than her body. But still, even as a young girl, Claire had been a budding beauty. Yet he wasn't joking when he thought this moment wouldn't happen for at least another century or two. He had known his limitations, given the fact that she had been still terribly underage.

But that was six years ago and since then Claire's beauty and maturity had grown by leaps and bounds. And even though to the untrained eye she physically still resembled that innocent teenager he first encountered at Union Wells High School, she was all woman now, and all his.

Spurred on by his burgeoning desire, he ripped Claire's blouse open, in complete disregard for the buttons holding it together. He gasped as he found himself frozen at the sight of her bare chest heaving underneath his.

Everything seemed to slow down as he slowly leaned in to slowly press his hungry lips to her warm skin. His mouth, wet and wanting, was eager to explore the contours of her neck, shoulder, the rounded top of her breast. Claire, desperate to feel his lips, twisted her arms behind her quickly to release them from the confines of her lacy red bra.

The garment, in Gabriel's opinion, looked stunning on her. However a few seconds later he amended his assessment the moment the full mounds of her breasts came into view.

Yet despite the erotic vision display before him, the insecure, jealous part of Gabriel reared its ugly head, as he wondered who else had seen the fetching lacy bra on her…or off her….

Wanting to stake his claim he quickly and possessively wrapped his lips around one of her nipples. A small gasp escaped from Claire panting mouth when she felt his long wet tongue expertly flick at the sensitive nub which caused her to shiver in response. The noises she made elicited a hearty growl of pleasure from her lover as he felt the rush of blood and adrenaline to his groin. Instinctively Gabriel began to grind his pelvis into hers in a delicious clockwise motion as he continued to suckle at both her breasts.

Drunk with lust Claire's hands flew to the front of his jeans. Her shaking fingers fumbled, so Gabriel undid the button and zipper for her with naught but a thought. His gaze met hers as Claire tugged his jeans down over his slight hips. The blush that blossomed in her cheeks at his large arousal and lack of underwear made him chuckle. Gabriel brought his lips back up to hers.

"Are you sure—" but Claire's hands were already working on her own pants, and Gabriel's voice died. As he found his mouth useless for talking, he decided to bring it back to Claire's soft, full lips, kissing her with the most gentle passion he could muster—he could screw the hell out of her later; this time—this first time—Gabriel wanted to have her slowly, sensually, lovingly.

His large hands trailed up and down her bare sides of their own accord before coming up to cup her breasts, giving them a decent squeeze. Claire broke their kiss with a snort and giggle. Gabriel couldn't help but laugh with her, "What?"

Claire's blush intensified, and she redirected her gaze to some point over his shoulder. "Are you—" Gabriel didn't quite know how to ask her, "Have you…never done this before?" she bit her lip and shook her head in response, looking thoroughly embarrassed. Gabriel tried to find words for her, could only breathe her name in longing as if she were a goddess come to earth.

"I…I'm okay with this—" she paused, frowning, "I want you to be my first—my only," she whispered instead, looking away once more. Gabriel caught her cheek and turned it back to him; staring down into her green eyes, he couldn't even name what emotion he was feeling.

"I love you, Claire," he told her again and for a second they were back in Costa Verde, Claire lying skulless on the coffee table, Sylar bent over her, bleeding.

How do we make love stay?

No, he thought angrily. Forget all of that. It's Gabriel that she wants, not Sylar. She loves Gabriel.

She had undone her pants, but they still remained wrapped around her hips; Gabriel decided to correct this, sliding them down her long, smooth legs slowly. The matching red lace underwear—the only garment that clothed her at this point—sent Gabriel's heart racing. His lustful gaze never leaving hers, he hooked his fingers into the material and peeled it off of her; she kicked them off the rest of the way once they reached her ankles, and seized two handfuls of his hair to force his lips back up to hers.

"Take me, Gabriel," she moaned into his mouth, pressing her naked form up into his with longing. Gabriel positioned his throbbing member against Claire's entrance, a shudder running through him as he realized how wet she'd become during their brief session of foreplay.

Her name fell from his lips once more as he pushed inside of her.

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As Gabriel entered Claire slowly, very slowly—torturously slowly—she focused her mind on nothing but his dark eyes boring into hers; she had the distinct feeling she was being worshipped.

Good God, good God, good God, good God, was the only thought happening in Claire's mind every time Gabriel thrust into her; she kept her lips pressed tightly together, as she had soon realized that every time she opened them all that came out were embarrassingly unintelligible moans and yelps.

Gabriel's lips and tongue assaulted her neck as he moved in and out of her, and Claire let herself melt back into the soft bed beneath her, unable to even keep grasping to his body as he played her like a violin. She felt a familiar burning forming in the very pit of her, but it was building stronger than she'd ever been able to achieve before.

Gabriel shifted them—nearly instantaneously—so he was mostly upright, with one of her legs thrown over his shoulder; the amazing new sensation that washed over her as he hit her center with every thrust made Claire cry out in pleasure. "Yes!" was the only word of encouragement she could give to him—he was supposed to deduce that that meant he needed to keep doing exactly what he was doing for the next decade at least; Claire never wanted this feeling to end.

Good things do end though, and great things end faster; Claire felt her entire body spasm with pleasure as she climaxed, the most amazing feeling of all probably being that Gabriel was still sliding in and out of her as she came, providing that much more lubrication for him.

She felt a few tears roll down her cheeks and wondered if that usually happened to women during sex, or if this was one of those rare cases of amazingly "orgasmic" sex; if it were the latter she was, indeed, holding on to Gabriel for the rest of eternity.

She gasped and moaned as his lips trailed over her breasts and neck, wanting to scream with bliss as she felt a second orgasm building; Gabriel brought a hand down between their bodies to rub her clit, and the jolt that ran through her brought Claire over the edge for the second time in five minutes. This time, Gabriel came with her, his lips crashing down to hers as he buried himself inside her one last time.

They stayed that way, tangled up in each other and panting for air; their chests were smashed together like one, making it impossible to ignore each other's pounding hearts. Eventually, their pulses slowed, and Gabriel kissed Claire tenderly before he pulled out of her. Before Claire could form a thought Gabriel had them under the covers once more, his body pressed flush against her back. He brushed her hair over her shoulder so he could put his lips there, and Claire sighed.

She let her heavy eyelids close, relishing in the leftover adrenaline and endorphins racing through her veins. She loved the feeling of his warm body against hers, felt protected and loved wrapped in his arms.

"I love you," Claire murmured softly as sleep took her swiftly.

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A fisted hand found the door and repeated the process three times. A moment later, the door was swung open, a shorter Japanese man, almost boyish in his features stood in the space where it had been.

"Hiro Nakamura, good to see you're still breathing," Claude Rains greeted, a weight seeming to lift off of his chest at the sight of the hero. "If you've got some time I've got a few questions for you…regarding Sylar."

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Haha, that's the end! But no complaining but I gave you a sex scene. And don't expect the next chapter up very soon because this Claude/Hiro scene is going to be a bitch for me to write. As always thanks for the reads, reviews, faves, alerts etc.

Oh, and I'm not going to lie and let you think that I came up with it all on my own, lol: That line about Claire feeling as if she were being worshipped isn't mine. In fact, I blatantly stole it from a Draco/Ginny HP fic, of which I can't remember the name or author =( BUT! Know that it was HER genius that wrote that line first, and I couldn't resist because it is just absolutely beautiful, and I think it really helps define the difference between having sex, screwing, etc, and making love.

Love Live and Prosper,

Nattie