Safety in Numbers - Part Four of Six NC17/R18+
Title: Safety in Numbers - Part Four of Six
Author: Bombshell_chic
Characters/Pairings: Peter and Claire; plus Sylar and a non-Meta original, with other characters guest-starring.
Rating: NC17/R18+ for part four
Warnings: Strong, graphic sexual violence including non-con; graphic violence, gore and coarse language; Strong adult themes.
Disclaimer: These characters are the property of NBC/Tim Kring etc. I make no profit from writing or posting this. Song lyrics for this chapter by Chris Isaak.
Spoiler alert: Episode 18, then it goes wildly AU, especially with the whole timeframe thing….
Summary: Sylar has a couple of brilliantly evil ideas, and Peter and Claire have another unhappy parting of ways….
Notes: I’m never especially comfortable with writing sexual violence, and this one seems very random, but I wanted to show the dark corners of Sylar’s mind.
Also, I picked these lyrics for this chapter before I saw episode 21, and after what happened in that ep between Sylar and his mommy, they now seem especially creepy!
Hope you enjoy this, feedback appreciated.
Tell me Mother, will I die?
Yes, my child, and so shall I
And never know the reason why
Little black flowers grow in the sky.
-Little Black flowers, Chris Isaak
Sylar had never been especially artistic at all. So when he’d come out of the painting trance it would sometimes take him a little while to understand what he was looking at.
He did two paintings on Thursday morning, both of which made him smile. He studied the first one, and it brought to fruition an idea he’d only had a vague inkling of.
The second one filled his heart with a sick and evil joy. He grinned broadly, and decided it was time to buy himself a few presents.
He flipped through the yellow pages until he found a company that would serve his needs. He grabbed the phone and dialled.
“Hi” he began shyly. “Could you send a girl to… keep company? I only have a few requirements. I want someone petite and blonde. Oh, and there’s just one more little thing….”
*
“Nathan…” Peter breathed. His first instinct was to try to lie. It’s not what you think…. But there was no way his situation looked like anything other than what it was.
“Get dressed” Nathan growled from between clenched teeth. He disappeared.
Peter glanced at Claire, who was still fast asleep next to him.
“Oh, shit” he whispered. He scrambled out of bed and hastily dressed, then padded out of the bedroom.
Peter was in the living room, posture stiff and tense. He turned to face Peter, his eyes hard.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” he said hotly. “She’s you niece, Peter! She’s sixteen years old!”
“You don’t understand-” Peter started
“You’re goddamn right I don’t understand!” Nathan yelled. He looked at his younger brother, disgusted.
“Claire and I-” Peter tried again.
“There is no Claire and you! I’ve always known that you’re an emotionally immature person, Peter, but this is the absolute limit. She’s my daughter! Do you have any idea-” Nathan was so angry he could hardly get the words out.
“I know it’s wrong, Nathan, okay! I know!” Peter yelled. “But we can’t help it! We can’t help the way we feel about each other!”
“No!” Nathan said, pointing an accusatorial finger at Peter, who flinched at the action. “She’s still a girl. She’s been through hell and she’s not in any condition to be responsible for this sort of behaviour. This is you, Pete, this is all you!”
“Don’t point at him like that” Claire said, her voice cold. Both men froze and turned to look at her. She was wearing Peter’s shirt, which fell to her knees. Peter flushed guiltily at the sight of her. Nathan’s face hardened.
“Go back to your room, Claire. This is between me and your uncle,” he said flatly.
“No. This was as much my fault as his. No, actually, I was the one who wanted it. I was the one who started it.”
Nathan shook his head dismissively. “He’s an adult, and you’re not. He’s the one who has to take responsibility for his… actions” Nathan spat.
“Nathan” Claire said, her eyes pleading. “I know it was wrong… but we need each other. It’s not something I can explain” she moved to Peter and reached for his hand. He withdrew from her touch, ashamed, and her face fell.
“Claire. Go back to your room” Nathan said slowly. “This isn’t any of your business anymore.”
“Claire… go. It’s okay” Peter urged.
“No” Claire whispered, looking desperately at him.
“Please!” he said, begging her with his fearful eyes.
She looked at him, hurt and betrayed, and then turned her unhappy gaze on her biological father. She slowly walked out of the room and into her bedroom, slamming the door hard behind her.
Nathan sighed and closed his eyes for a moment.
“Get out” he said simply.
“What?” Peter asked, incredulous.
Nathan looked at him again. “I said get out. You’re not staying here with her. Linderman’s people can look after her. You can look after yourself” he said, disgusted. He turned and made to leave the villa, but Peter was hot on his heels.
“I’m not leaving her, Nathan. You can’t make me!”
Nathan spun on his heel and gave Peter such a dark look that Peter stopped short.
“Pack your bags. I’ll have a car ready to pick you up in fifteen minutes. And for god’s sake, take a shower, you stink like sex.”
Peter went back to his room, numb. He sat on his bed, panic rising up inside him. He had no idea what Nathan would actually do to him if he tried to stay. And if he took Claire with him- no, it was too much of a risk to her.
“Peter? What are you doing?” Claire cried.
“I have to, Claire. He’s so angry with me. I don’t know….”
“No. No! You can’t leave. Peter, you promised!”
“Just for a few days. Just until he calms down. I’ll leave, I’ll lay low somewhere for a few days, and this’ll pass. He’ll get worried about me and let me come back to you.”
“You promised you’d take care of me,” Claire whispered, tears sliding down her cheeks.
“Claire… we did something really bad, even though it didn’t feel that way. Things are going to get seriously fucked up for us if I don’t go.”
“You won’t be safe. I won’t be safe. I can’t do this without you”
“Yes you can. You can, you’re so strong.” He whispered. He couldn’t stop himself, and leaned in to kiss the tears from her cheeks. She gripped his shoulders tightly, her body begging him to stay.
“Just for a few days.” He whispered, pulling away and looking around furtively.
She clung to him, and he had to kiss her to reassure her. She began to sob openly. Peter grabbed his bag and walked out, knowing that if he stayed for one more word of comfort he’d never leave.
*
“Hi there” the blonde said, smiling up at him. “The agency sent me.”
Sylar smiled and admitted her to the room, running an appraising eye over her. She was a little taller that he’d hoped for, but the hair and build were right. And the best thing of all, he saw as she took her coat off, was that she was dressed almost exactly as he’d asked.
“Sorry, they didn’t have a red and white uniform. But I figured you wouldn’t mind if I promised to cheer extra hard” she said with a coy smile.
He returned the smile “You’re adorable. I think I’m going to enjoy myself.” he pulled a bunch of notes from his wallet, and counted them out onto the bedside table. She watched him and smiled appreciatively at him. “Thanks, honey” she told him. She took the pile of notes and tucked them into her bag.
“Okay…” she said. “You just bought yourself an hour of fun. What would you like to do first?”
“I’d like to watch you jump around a little in that uniform” Sylar said enthusiastically.
“Well, how about you lay back on the bed, and enjoy the show” she told him.
Sylar stretched himself back onto the bed, propping himself up on several pillows. The call girl climbed up onto the bed and proceeded to dance around and jump on the bed, giving Sylar an excellent view of her panties with every bounce. She slowly began to peel off her top, and continued jumping, her breasts jiggling more obviously now she was only wearing her bra on top. She giggled and sank down at his feet, then began to crawl up his body until she was straddling his thighs. He let her reach up and unzip his pants and work him out of them. He reached up and fondled her breasts.
“Mmm, Claire” he whispered.
The call girl smiled slightly.
“Yeah, that’s right… Claire.”
The smile slipped from his face slightly, so she turned back to the task at hand, and pulled his pants free.
She wriggled forward and straddled him, reaching up to remove his shirt while he watched her. There was something in his eyes that was starting to make her uneasy. She decided the best thing to do was get him over and done with, and get out of there as fast as possible.
She forced a smile at him “What would you like first?”
He answered her by slipping a hand behind her head, and drawing her mouth to his for a kiss. He was insistent but not forceful, and she tried to relaxed. He started getting into it a little more, his enthusiasm making the kisses rougher. She broke off and forced another smile, then moved her lips to his neck, and started working her way down his body with her mouth. By the time she’d made it down to his belly, he was hard as a rock. She pulled his cock free of his boxers and smiled indulgently at him.
“Damn, if I were getting paid by the inch, I’d make a fortune!” she breathed, and he rewarded her with a grin.
“Get on your knees. On the floor” he told her, and she obliged him. He moved to the edge of the bed and slipped his boxers off. She pushed his thighs apart and looked up at him as she brought her mouth down on him. He moaned a little from the very welcome sensation, and rested his hands on the back of her head, pushing her up and down. She reached under her skirt and began to touch herself, moaning as she took him deeper into her mouth. He shuddered with pleasure, watching her curiously, and she smiled up at him. He twined his fingers in her hair as she worked him, trying to decide how he wanted to kill her.
His usual method was always appealing, but it seemed a little pointless as he didn’t need her brain- she wasn’t special. He considered a variety of other options that he’d never tried but was curious about. He wondered what it would be like to strangle her, to close his hands over her slender throat and squeeze. Of course, he could always do the same thing with his TK, but that was a little too Darth Vader for his taste. He thought about using the item he’d bought that afternoon and have a test run on her, but decided against it- that was especially for Peter.
He was so lost in his thoughts of murder that he didn’t realise how hard and ready he was until she stopped blowing him. She sat back, cheeks flushed, lips red and slightly swollen from her hard work and gazed up at him.
“Okay… time to score a touchdown” she said with a grin. She moved away for a moment and took something from her purse.
“Want me to do it?” she asked, holding up a wrapped condom.
“Oh” Sylar said, disappointed.
“Yeah, I insist we use these. No offence or anything”
“No, that’s okay” Sylar said quickly. It detracted from his fantasy slightly, but he decided it was probably best to protect his health- he wasn’t indestructible yet.
She expertly applied the prophylactic, and then stood up, slipping off her bra and panties under his watchful eye.
“Leave the skirt on” he told her and she smiled. She leaned forward, climbing atop him. He roughly pushed her onto her back and entered her. She wasn’t quite ready for him and gave a small gasp of surprise as he plunged in. He grabbed her knees, pushing her thighs far apart as he thrust hard and fast in her. She gritted her teeth and grabbed his hips, hoping to exert a measure of control over him that way, but he wasn’t discouraged at all.
“Say my name” she whispered, hoping to get him to at least look at her.
He grinned. “Claire” he said, drawing the name out almost playfully.
“Have I been a bad girl?” she asked.
“Very bad.” He grunted.
“So, do you like punishing me?” she asked.
“Oh, this isn’t the real punishment.” He said, staring hard into the call girls eyes. “This is just a warm-up for the real thing. And sorry, but you’re not a patch on her.”
He pressed his large, strong hands to her throat and squeezed as he continued thrusting into her. Her eyes went wide with terror, and she opened her mouth but couldn’t so much as choke out a sound. She started hitting his face, clawing at his hands with her fingernails, but he held her back with his telekinesis, letting her struggle only a little.
He started to laugh as he looked down at her. His lips pulled back into a cruel sneer as he pushed violently into her, grunting with effort. She begged him to stop with her eyes, and he watched closely as tiny blood vessels in the whites of her eyes began to bloom red.
“You’re getting off lightly,” he whispered to her “This is absolutely nothing compared to what I have planned for the real Claire- and her uncle.”
The call girl’s eyes rolled back in their sockets as she finally succumbed to the pressure on her throat. Sylar came hard in her as he felt her body go limp beneath him. He leaned in pressed his lips to hers, kissing her slack mouth, then he bit down hard on her lower lip, tasting her blood. He shuddered and gasped, slowing down until he was completely spent, then rolled over onto his back, feeling as limp as she looked. He frowned and tossed the used rubber aside, then looked over at the dead woman next to him. He felt empty, and searched his feelings to understand why. Was it because she wasn’t Claire, or was it because there was no special treat at the end of the killing? Maybe it was because the killing had been bloodless- he had to admit to himself that there was a certain theatrical enjoyment to cutting someone’s head open with telekinesis.
He sighed, deciding that he’d built Claire’s death up too much in his head. He rolled off the bed and lifted the body with his TK, pushing it ahead of him into the bathroom and dropping it into the bathtub.
This is going to be interesting he thought, kneeling down by the bath. He had never liquefied a body before. He drew a deep breath and pressed his hand to her.
It took him forty-five minutes to get it to a state where he could put it down the drain, and by the end he was exhausted and covered in melted human goo.
After he’d showered he just wanted to sleep, but he knew it was time to move on, and also time to set his plan in motion. After he’d emptied out the call girl’s purse of cash, and packed up his few possessions, he rolled up his completed canvases, except one, and slid them into a mailing tube, then carefully wrote out an address on the side.
Peter Petrelli
Petrelli Building, 5th Avenue
Manhattan NY
Peter liked it that Mohinder didn’t ask any questions when he knocked on the door of the scientist’s new apartment. He felt a surge of guilt that he was putting the scientist in danger by staying with him, but he couldn’t think of where else he could go and still be in the loop. They’d let out his apartment in Little Italy, packing up his stuff after he’d fled to Las Vegas with Claire, and storing it god knows where. He couldn’t go back to the family penthouse; aside from the fact that he wouldn’t be welcome there- his mother was sure to know of his indiscretion by now- he didn’t think he could face the scene of the latest violent attack, especially as it had cost them so much.
He’d only been at Mohinder’s two nights, sleeping in discomfort on threadbare couch when his mother arrived on the doorstep.
“How did you-” Peter asked as she invited herself in, but out of the corner of his eye he saw Mohinder look away guiltily. He frowned.
“Something arrived in the mail for you” his mother said, looking briefly around the small apartment. She met his eyes again, and Peter’s frown deepened when he saw the look on her face.
“Look at the sender’s details” she said quietly.
Peter took the mailing tube from her hands and turned it around until he found the small panel. He felt his face go slack in shock and he stared at his mother again.
“I wasn’t even sure if it was safe to transport,” she said lightly.
Peter turned away from her and popped the tube open.
“Peter, are you sure it’s a good idea to-” Mohinder said, but Peter had already tilted the tube, and a thick roll of canvas slipped out into his hand. He dropped the tube, and held the canvas almost meditatively in both hands, looking at it.
“Bastard” he muttered.
“Poor Mister Mendez” Mohinder said quietly. “That Sylar would steal more than just his talent….”
Peter swallowed nervously, and spread the canvases out onto the table. He turned them around; trying to decide which way was up. They were vividly coloured, in a style he might’ve likened to Picasso- mostly because the proportions seemed distorted and odd. It took him several minutes to interpret the images, and having his mother on one side and Mohinder on the other, each of them offering suggestions or opinions on the subject matter, didn’t help.
He flipped to the next in the series, and his mother’s hand tightened on his arm. This one was obvious enough; two men facing off against each other, and there was no doubt it was meant to be Sylar and Peter. There seemed to b a large amount of red paint in the space between them, and Peter was willing to bet that it was supposed to be his blood. The background of the painting was familiar, too, and Peter recognised it immediately.
The next in the series made him frown as he stared at it- it too was obvious enough.
“Well, looks like he’s giving me a place and time if I want to face him.” Peter said.
The painting was of his bedroom back in his family apartment on 5th Avenue. The bed, where Sylar had tried to rape Claire, was in the foreground, and Peter took it as the taunt he knew it was meant to be. In the background was Peter’s desk. Atop the desk and quite visible was his desk calendar, the page of the showing the date quite clearly.
“Next Tuesday” Peter breathed. “I guess that’s when he figures we’re going to meet on the roof of the apartment.”
His mother’s grip on his arm became vice-like, and she pulled him into the kitchen.
“I’m putting you on the first flight back to Las Vegas” she said shortly.
“No, Mom. You and I both know I can’t go back there.” Peter said.
His mother narrowed her eyes at him. “Peter, I don’t know what happened between you and your brother, but he was an idiot to make you leave. He had no right to place you in jeopardy like this. You’re going back.”
Peter’s heart hammered in his chest she didn’t know what he’d done with Claire- Nathan hadn’t told her everything.
“No. This ends here. If Sylar wants to face me, then I’m doing it. I’m not going to run and hide from him again.”
“Foolish boy” his mother said scathingly, but there was panic in her eyes.
“I made a promise to Claire that I would end him. And I’m going to. I have to do this or it will never be over. He’ll hunt her forever, taking innocent people with him.”
“Peter” Angela said, gripping his arms “I’m taking Claire out of the country tomorrow morning. He won’t be able to get her, and that will buy us more time to stop him.”
“What? Where are you going” Peter demanded.
“Paris. If you won’t go back to Vegas, come with us.”
Peter shook his head. “I’m not running again” he said quietly.
His mother looked at him steadily, trying to keep her eyes calm.
“Then you’d better hope to god you’re ready for the consequences, whatever they may be.” She said.
He rode with his mother to the airport the next morning. Claire was coming off a flight from Las Vegas, and they had a two-hour window before the flight to Paris departed.
“Don’t tell her I’m staying because I’m going after Sylar.” Peter said quietly, as they watched Claire walked towards them from the arrivals gate.
“I wasn’t planning on it” Angela answered lightly. “But you might want to keep in mind- Sylar’s coming after you.”
Peter avoided her eyes in order to avoid the pointed look he knew she’d tacked on to the end of the comment. It was hard enough for him to be there, knowing he might be seeing Claire for the last time. He still felt an almost overwhelming sense of guilt when he thought of her, but he wasn’t sure whether it was because of what he’d done or because he’d left so abruptly afterwards.
Claire met them, and her expression when she looked at Peter was guarded. Angela shepherded them to the first class lounge to wait until departure time.
Pater was having a hard time not staring at Claire, he was desperate to talk to her alone, but she seemed to be doing a good job of avoiding his eyes.
While his mother made small talk with Claire, Peter relaxed his mental shields slightly, reaching out with his telepathy to glimpse Claire’s thoughts.
He cringed with discomfort as several minds intruded on his all at once, and he pushed them out. He took a deep, slow breath and focused on Claire.
*Everyone in this family lies* she though, and Peter frowned. She turned to look at him with an odd expression in her eyes, almost as though she knew what he’d just done. He held her eyes and reached out again with his mind.
*Why are you abandoning me again?* She thought, and this time Peter knew she was aware of his intrusion, and was intentionally talking to him in her mind. He pushed his shields up again and sighed, tearing his eyes away from Claire’s. His mother seemed to interpret his tension, and she frowned.
“I’m going to get some magazines for the flight. Do either of you need anything?” She said. Both Peter and Claire shook their heads.
Pete waited until his mother had disappeared inside the duty free store, then he turned to Claire.
“I’m not abandoning you,” he said. “It’s safer for you to go away for a while. You should’ve gone when my Mom first suggested it.”
“Yeah, then we wouldn’t have made that little mistake” Claire said sarcastically.
“Then Sylar wouldn’t have attacked you” Peter said flatly.
Claire didn’t respond. She just stared at Peter.
*You regret being with me* she thought
“Claire, what we did was wrong, and we can’t let it happen again. But I don’t… I don’t regret the comfort we found in each other that night.”
He could by the look in her eyes that she didn’t believe him in the slightest, so he grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet. He looked around, unsure of himself, then led her to a disabled bathroom and locked the door behind them. She misinterpreted his intentions, and moved to kiss him as soon as they were alone. He gently moved away.
“Why are you so angry with me?” he asked.
“I’m not angry” Claire muttered, looking away.
“Claire, I can feel it rolling off you in waves” Peter said.
“Why aren’t you coming with us?” Claire demanded.
“Because I can’t. Claire- I want so much to protect you, but you aren’t safe around me. You have to go away for a while. It’s the only chance we’ve got.”
Claire looked at him, tears welling in her eyes. “He’s coming for you, isn’t he?” she whispered.
“Claire-”
“Please.” she begged. “Please!”
Peter shook his head. “I’m not going to let him chase us into our graves” Peter said, his face dark and set with determination.
Claire gripped his arms, trembling violently. Her mouth hung open as though she wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. She finally leaned forward and kissed him gently on the mouth. Peter felt the wet warmth of her tears on his face. She pulled away with a shuddering breath, then wrenched open the bathroom door and hurried out.
She wouldn’t speak with him for the rest of the time they were together, and Peter felt as though a giant weight had settled in his stomach.
When it was time for Angela and Claire to depart, Peter hugged and kissed his mother goodbye. He touched Claire’s arm and she looked up at him.
*This might be the last time I ever-* she caught herself mid-thought, and her eyes went wide with shock. He leaned in a planted a small, platonic kiss on her cheek, wishing desperately at that moment that his telepathy worked both ways, so he could say something, anything to reassure her.
Author: Bombshell_chic
Characters/Pairings: Peter and Claire; plus Sylar and a non-Meta original, with other characters guest-starring.
Rating: NC17/R18+ for part four
Warnings: Strong, graphic sexual violence including non-con; graphic violence, gore and coarse language; Strong adult themes.
Disclaimer: These characters are the property of NBC/Tim Kring etc. I make no profit from writing or posting this. Song lyrics for this chapter by Chris Isaak.
Spoiler alert: Episode 18, then it goes wildly AU, especially with the whole timeframe thing….
Summary: Sylar has a couple of brilliantly evil ideas, and Peter and Claire have another unhappy parting of ways….
Notes: I’m never especially comfortable with writing sexual violence, and this one seems very random, but I wanted to show the dark corners of Sylar’s mind.
Also, I picked these lyrics for this chapter before I saw episode 21, and after what happened in that ep between Sylar and his mommy, they now seem especially creepy!
Hope you enjoy this, feedback appreciated.
Tell me Mother, will I die?
Yes, my child, and so shall I
And never know the reason why
Little black flowers grow in the sky.
-Little Black flowers, Chris Isaak
Sylar had never been especially artistic at all. So when he’d come out of the painting trance it would sometimes take him a little while to understand what he was looking at.
He did two paintings on Thursday morning, both of which made him smile. He studied the first one, and it brought to fruition an idea he’d only had a vague inkling of.
The second one filled his heart with a sick and evil joy. He grinned broadly, and decided it was time to buy himself a few presents.
He flipped through the yellow pages until he found a company that would serve his needs. He grabbed the phone and dialled.
“Hi” he began shyly. “Could you send a girl to… keep company? I only have a few requirements. I want someone petite and blonde. Oh, and there’s just one more little thing….”
*
“Nathan…” Peter breathed. His first instinct was to try to lie. It’s not what you think…. But there was no way his situation looked like anything other than what it was.
“Get dressed” Nathan growled from between clenched teeth. He disappeared.
Peter glanced at Claire, who was still fast asleep next to him.
“Oh, shit” he whispered. He scrambled out of bed and hastily dressed, then padded out of the bedroom.
Peter was in the living room, posture stiff and tense. He turned to face Peter, his eyes hard.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” he said hotly. “She’s you niece, Peter! She’s sixteen years old!”
“You don’t understand-” Peter started
“You’re goddamn right I don’t understand!” Nathan yelled. He looked at his younger brother, disgusted.
“Claire and I-” Peter tried again.
“There is no Claire and you! I’ve always known that you’re an emotionally immature person, Peter, but this is the absolute limit. She’s my daughter! Do you have any idea-” Nathan was so angry he could hardly get the words out.
“I know it’s wrong, Nathan, okay! I know!” Peter yelled. “But we can’t help it! We can’t help the way we feel about each other!”
“No!” Nathan said, pointing an accusatorial finger at Peter, who flinched at the action. “She’s still a girl. She’s been through hell and she’s not in any condition to be responsible for this sort of behaviour. This is you, Pete, this is all you!”
“Don’t point at him like that” Claire said, her voice cold. Both men froze and turned to look at her. She was wearing Peter’s shirt, which fell to her knees. Peter flushed guiltily at the sight of her. Nathan’s face hardened.
“Go back to your room, Claire. This is between me and your uncle,” he said flatly.
“No. This was as much my fault as his. No, actually, I was the one who wanted it. I was the one who started it.”
Nathan shook his head dismissively. “He’s an adult, and you’re not. He’s the one who has to take responsibility for his… actions” Nathan spat.
“Nathan” Claire said, her eyes pleading. “I know it was wrong… but we need each other. It’s not something I can explain” she moved to Peter and reached for his hand. He withdrew from her touch, ashamed, and her face fell.
“Claire. Go back to your room” Nathan said slowly. “This isn’t any of your business anymore.”
“Claire… go. It’s okay” Peter urged.
“No” Claire whispered, looking desperately at him.
“Please!” he said, begging her with his fearful eyes.
She looked at him, hurt and betrayed, and then turned her unhappy gaze on her biological father. She slowly walked out of the room and into her bedroom, slamming the door hard behind her.
Nathan sighed and closed his eyes for a moment.
“Get out” he said simply.
“What?” Peter asked, incredulous.
Nathan looked at him again. “I said get out. You’re not staying here with her. Linderman’s people can look after her. You can look after yourself” he said, disgusted. He turned and made to leave the villa, but Peter was hot on his heels.
“I’m not leaving her, Nathan. You can’t make me!”
Nathan spun on his heel and gave Peter such a dark look that Peter stopped short.
“Pack your bags. I’ll have a car ready to pick you up in fifteen minutes. And for god’s sake, take a shower, you stink like sex.”
Peter went back to his room, numb. He sat on his bed, panic rising up inside him. He had no idea what Nathan would actually do to him if he tried to stay. And if he took Claire with him- no, it was too much of a risk to her.
“Peter? What are you doing?” Claire cried.
“I have to, Claire. He’s so angry with me. I don’t know….”
“No. No! You can’t leave. Peter, you promised!”
“Just for a few days. Just until he calms down. I’ll leave, I’ll lay low somewhere for a few days, and this’ll pass. He’ll get worried about me and let me come back to you.”
“You promised you’d take care of me,” Claire whispered, tears sliding down her cheeks.
“Claire… we did something really bad, even though it didn’t feel that way. Things are going to get seriously fucked up for us if I don’t go.”
“You won’t be safe. I won’t be safe. I can’t do this without you”
“Yes you can. You can, you’re so strong.” He whispered. He couldn’t stop himself, and leaned in to kiss the tears from her cheeks. She gripped his shoulders tightly, her body begging him to stay.
“Just for a few days.” He whispered, pulling away and looking around furtively.
She clung to him, and he had to kiss her to reassure her. She began to sob openly. Peter grabbed his bag and walked out, knowing that if he stayed for one more word of comfort he’d never leave.
*
“Hi there” the blonde said, smiling up at him. “The agency sent me.”
Sylar smiled and admitted her to the room, running an appraising eye over her. She was a little taller that he’d hoped for, but the hair and build were right. And the best thing of all, he saw as she took her coat off, was that she was dressed almost exactly as he’d asked.
“Sorry, they didn’t have a red and white uniform. But I figured you wouldn’t mind if I promised to cheer extra hard” she said with a coy smile.
He returned the smile “You’re adorable. I think I’m going to enjoy myself.” he pulled a bunch of notes from his wallet, and counted them out onto the bedside table. She watched him and smiled appreciatively at him. “Thanks, honey” she told him. She took the pile of notes and tucked them into her bag.
“Okay…” she said. “You just bought yourself an hour of fun. What would you like to do first?”
“I’d like to watch you jump around a little in that uniform” Sylar said enthusiastically.
“Well, how about you lay back on the bed, and enjoy the show” she told him.
Sylar stretched himself back onto the bed, propping himself up on several pillows. The call girl climbed up onto the bed and proceeded to dance around and jump on the bed, giving Sylar an excellent view of her panties with every bounce. She slowly began to peel off her top, and continued jumping, her breasts jiggling more obviously now she was only wearing her bra on top. She giggled and sank down at his feet, then began to crawl up his body until she was straddling his thighs. He let her reach up and unzip his pants and work him out of them. He reached up and fondled her breasts.
“Mmm, Claire” he whispered.
The call girl smiled slightly.
“Yeah, that’s right… Claire.”
The smile slipped from his face slightly, so she turned back to the task at hand, and pulled his pants free.
She wriggled forward and straddled him, reaching up to remove his shirt while he watched her. There was something in his eyes that was starting to make her uneasy. She decided the best thing to do was get him over and done with, and get out of there as fast as possible.
She forced a smile at him “What would you like first?”
He answered her by slipping a hand behind her head, and drawing her mouth to his for a kiss. He was insistent but not forceful, and she tried to relaxed. He started getting into it a little more, his enthusiasm making the kisses rougher. She broke off and forced another smile, then moved her lips to his neck, and started working her way down his body with her mouth. By the time she’d made it down to his belly, he was hard as a rock. She pulled his cock free of his boxers and smiled indulgently at him.
“Damn, if I were getting paid by the inch, I’d make a fortune!” she breathed, and he rewarded her with a grin.
“Get on your knees. On the floor” he told her, and she obliged him. He moved to the edge of the bed and slipped his boxers off. She pushed his thighs apart and looked up at him as she brought her mouth down on him. He moaned a little from the very welcome sensation, and rested his hands on the back of her head, pushing her up and down. She reached under her skirt and began to touch herself, moaning as she took him deeper into her mouth. He shuddered with pleasure, watching her curiously, and she smiled up at him. He twined his fingers in her hair as she worked him, trying to decide how he wanted to kill her.
His usual method was always appealing, but it seemed a little pointless as he didn’t need her brain- she wasn’t special. He considered a variety of other options that he’d never tried but was curious about. He wondered what it would be like to strangle her, to close his hands over her slender throat and squeeze. Of course, he could always do the same thing with his TK, but that was a little too Darth Vader for his taste. He thought about using the item he’d bought that afternoon and have a test run on her, but decided against it- that was especially for Peter.
He was so lost in his thoughts of murder that he didn’t realise how hard and ready he was until she stopped blowing him. She sat back, cheeks flushed, lips red and slightly swollen from her hard work and gazed up at him.
“Okay… time to score a touchdown” she said with a grin. She moved away for a moment and took something from her purse.
“Want me to do it?” she asked, holding up a wrapped condom.
“Oh” Sylar said, disappointed.
“Yeah, I insist we use these. No offence or anything”
“No, that’s okay” Sylar said quickly. It detracted from his fantasy slightly, but he decided it was probably best to protect his health- he wasn’t indestructible yet.
She expertly applied the prophylactic, and then stood up, slipping off her bra and panties under his watchful eye.
“Leave the skirt on” he told her and she smiled. She leaned forward, climbing atop him. He roughly pushed her onto her back and entered her. She wasn’t quite ready for him and gave a small gasp of surprise as he plunged in. He grabbed her knees, pushing her thighs far apart as he thrust hard and fast in her. She gritted her teeth and grabbed his hips, hoping to exert a measure of control over him that way, but he wasn’t discouraged at all.
“Say my name” she whispered, hoping to get him to at least look at her.
He grinned. “Claire” he said, drawing the name out almost playfully.
“Have I been a bad girl?” she asked.
“Very bad.” He grunted.
“So, do you like punishing me?” she asked.
“Oh, this isn’t the real punishment.” He said, staring hard into the call girls eyes. “This is just a warm-up for the real thing. And sorry, but you’re not a patch on her.”
He pressed his large, strong hands to her throat and squeezed as he continued thrusting into her. Her eyes went wide with terror, and she opened her mouth but couldn’t so much as choke out a sound. She started hitting his face, clawing at his hands with her fingernails, but he held her back with his telekinesis, letting her struggle only a little.
He started to laugh as he looked down at her. His lips pulled back into a cruel sneer as he pushed violently into her, grunting with effort. She begged him to stop with her eyes, and he watched closely as tiny blood vessels in the whites of her eyes began to bloom red.
“You’re getting off lightly,” he whispered to her “This is absolutely nothing compared to what I have planned for the real Claire- and her uncle.”
The call girl’s eyes rolled back in their sockets as she finally succumbed to the pressure on her throat. Sylar came hard in her as he felt her body go limp beneath him. He leaned in pressed his lips to hers, kissing her slack mouth, then he bit down hard on her lower lip, tasting her blood. He shuddered and gasped, slowing down until he was completely spent, then rolled over onto his back, feeling as limp as she looked. He frowned and tossed the used rubber aside, then looked over at the dead woman next to him. He felt empty, and searched his feelings to understand why. Was it because she wasn’t Claire, or was it because there was no special treat at the end of the killing? Maybe it was because the killing had been bloodless- he had to admit to himself that there was a certain theatrical enjoyment to cutting someone’s head open with telekinesis.
He sighed, deciding that he’d built Claire’s death up too much in his head. He rolled off the bed and lifted the body with his TK, pushing it ahead of him into the bathroom and dropping it into the bathtub.
This is going to be interesting he thought, kneeling down by the bath. He had never liquefied a body before. He drew a deep breath and pressed his hand to her.
It took him forty-five minutes to get it to a state where he could put it down the drain, and by the end he was exhausted and covered in melted human goo.
After he’d showered he just wanted to sleep, but he knew it was time to move on, and also time to set his plan in motion. After he’d emptied out the call girl’s purse of cash, and packed up his few possessions, he rolled up his completed canvases, except one, and slid them into a mailing tube, then carefully wrote out an address on the side.
Peter Petrelli
Petrelli Building, 5th Avenue
Manhattan NY
Peter liked it that Mohinder didn’t ask any questions when he knocked on the door of the scientist’s new apartment. He felt a surge of guilt that he was putting the scientist in danger by staying with him, but he couldn’t think of where else he could go and still be in the loop. They’d let out his apartment in Little Italy, packing up his stuff after he’d fled to Las Vegas with Claire, and storing it god knows where. He couldn’t go back to the family penthouse; aside from the fact that he wouldn’t be welcome there- his mother was sure to know of his indiscretion by now- he didn’t think he could face the scene of the latest violent attack, especially as it had cost them so much.
He’d only been at Mohinder’s two nights, sleeping in discomfort on threadbare couch when his mother arrived on the doorstep.
“How did you-” Peter asked as she invited herself in, but out of the corner of his eye he saw Mohinder look away guiltily. He frowned.
“Something arrived in the mail for you” his mother said, looking briefly around the small apartment. She met his eyes again, and Peter’s frown deepened when he saw the look on her face.
“Look at the sender’s details” she said quietly.
Peter took the mailing tube from her hands and turned it around until he found the small panel. He felt his face go slack in shock and he stared at his mother again.
“I wasn’t even sure if it was safe to transport,” she said lightly.
Peter turned away from her and popped the tube open.
“Peter, are you sure it’s a good idea to-” Mohinder said, but Peter had already tilted the tube, and a thick roll of canvas slipped out into his hand. He dropped the tube, and held the canvas almost meditatively in both hands, looking at it.
“Bastard” he muttered.
“Poor Mister Mendez” Mohinder said quietly. “That Sylar would steal more than just his talent….”
Peter swallowed nervously, and spread the canvases out onto the table. He turned them around; trying to decide which way was up. They were vividly coloured, in a style he might’ve likened to Picasso- mostly because the proportions seemed distorted and odd. It took him several minutes to interpret the images, and having his mother on one side and Mohinder on the other, each of them offering suggestions or opinions on the subject matter, didn’t help.
He flipped to the next in the series, and his mother’s hand tightened on his arm. This one was obvious enough; two men facing off against each other, and there was no doubt it was meant to be Sylar and Peter. There seemed to b a large amount of red paint in the space between them, and Peter was willing to bet that it was supposed to be his blood. The background of the painting was familiar, too, and Peter recognised it immediately.
The next in the series made him frown as he stared at it- it too was obvious enough.
“Well, looks like he’s giving me a place and time if I want to face him.” Peter said.
The painting was of his bedroom back in his family apartment on 5th Avenue. The bed, where Sylar had tried to rape Claire, was in the foreground, and Peter took it as the taunt he knew it was meant to be. In the background was Peter’s desk. Atop the desk and quite visible was his desk calendar, the page of the showing the date quite clearly.
“Next Tuesday” Peter breathed. “I guess that’s when he figures we’re going to meet on the roof of the apartment.”
His mother’s grip on his arm became vice-like, and she pulled him into the kitchen.
“I’m putting you on the first flight back to Las Vegas” she said shortly.
“No, Mom. You and I both know I can’t go back there.” Peter said.
His mother narrowed her eyes at him. “Peter, I don’t know what happened between you and your brother, but he was an idiot to make you leave. He had no right to place you in jeopardy like this. You’re going back.”
Peter’s heart hammered in his chest she didn’t know what he’d done with Claire- Nathan hadn’t told her everything.
“No. This ends here. If Sylar wants to face me, then I’m doing it. I’m not going to run and hide from him again.”
“Foolish boy” his mother said scathingly, but there was panic in her eyes.
“I made a promise to Claire that I would end him. And I’m going to. I have to do this or it will never be over. He’ll hunt her forever, taking innocent people with him.”
“Peter” Angela said, gripping his arms “I’m taking Claire out of the country tomorrow morning. He won’t be able to get her, and that will buy us more time to stop him.”
“What? Where are you going” Peter demanded.
“Paris. If you won’t go back to Vegas, come with us.”
Peter shook his head. “I’m not running again” he said quietly.
His mother looked at him steadily, trying to keep her eyes calm.
“Then you’d better hope to god you’re ready for the consequences, whatever they may be.” She said.
He rode with his mother to the airport the next morning. Claire was coming off a flight from Las Vegas, and they had a two-hour window before the flight to Paris departed.
“Don’t tell her I’m staying because I’m going after Sylar.” Peter said quietly, as they watched Claire walked towards them from the arrivals gate.
“I wasn’t planning on it” Angela answered lightly. “But you might want to keep in mind- Sylar’s coming after you.”
Peter avoided her eyes in order to avoid the pointed look he knew she’d tacked on to the end of the comment. It was hard enough for him to be there, knowing he might be seeing Claire for the last time. He still felt an almost overwhelming sense of guilt when he thought of her, but he wasn’t sure whether it was because of what he’d done or because he’d left so abruptly afterwards.
Claire met them, and her expression when she looked at Peter was guarded. Angela shepherded them to the first class lounge to wait until departure time.
Pater was having a hard time not staring at Claire, he was desperate to talk to her alone, but she seemed to be doing a good job of avoiding his eyes.
While his mother made small talk with Claire, Peter relaxed his mental shields slightly, reaching out with his telepathy to glimpse Claire’s thoughts.
He cringed with discomfort as several minds intruded on his all at once, and he pushed them out. He took a deep, slow breath and focused on Claire.
*Everyone in this family lies* she though, and Peter frowned. She turned to look at him with an odd expression in her eyes, almost as though she knew what he’d just done. He held her eyes and reached out again with his mind.
*Why are you abandoning me again?* She thought, and this time Peter knew she was aware of his intrusion, and was intentionally talking to him in her mind. He pushed his shields up again and sighed, tearing his eyes away from Claire’s. His mother seemed to interpret his tension, and she frowned.
“I’m going to get some magazines for the flight. Do either of you need anything?” She said. Both Peter and Claire shook their heads.
Pete waited until his mother had disappeared inside the duty free store, then he turned to Claire.
“I’m not abandoning you,” he said. “It’s safer for you to go away for a while. You should’ve gone when my Mom first suggested it.”
“Yeah, then we wouldn’t have made that little mistake” Claire said sarcastically.
“Then Sylar wouldn’t have attacked you” Peter said flatly.
Claire didn’t respond. She just stared at Peter.
*You regret being with me* she thought
“Claire, what we did was wrong, and we can’t let it happen again. But I don’t… I don’t regret the comfort we found in each other that night.”
He could by the look in her eyes that she didn’t believe him in the slightest, so he grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet. He looked around, unsure of himself, then led her to a disabled bathroom and locked the door behind them. She misinterpreted his intentions, and moved to kiss him as soon as they were alone. He gently moved away.
“Why are you so angry with me?” he asked.
“I’m not angry” Claire muttered, looking away.
“Claire, I can feel it rolling off you in waves” Peter said.
“Why aren’t you coming with us?” Claire demanded.
“Because I can’t. Claire- I want so much to protect you, but you aren’t safe around me. You have to go away for a while. It’s the only chance we’ve got.”
Claire looked at him, tears welling in her eyes. “He’s coming for you, isn’t he?” she whispered.
“Claire-”
“Please.” she begged. “Please!”
Peter shook his head. “I’m not going to let him chase us into our graves” Peter said, his face dark and set with determination.
Claire gripped his arms, trembling violently. Her mouth hung open as though she wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. She finally leaned forward and kissed him gently on the mouth. Peter felt the wet warmth of her tears on his face. She pulled away with a shuddering breath, then wrenched open the bathroom door and hurried out.
She wouldn’t speak with him for the rest of the time they were together, and Peter felt as though a giant weight had settled in his stomach.
When it was time for Angela and Claire to depart, Peter hugged and kissed his mother goodbye. He touched Claire’s arm and she looked up at him.
*This might be the last time I ever-* she caught herself mid-thought, and her eyes went wide with shock. He leaned in a planted a small, platonic kiss on her cheek, wishing desperately at that moment that his telepathy worked both ways, so he could say something, anything to reassure her.