7s_prompts prompt set 7.2.5 [quote prompt]
5. "Love is everything it's cracked up to be…It really is worth fighting for, being brave for, risking everything for." - Erica Jong
Claire sighed as she continued to recline against the mountain of pillows that were stacked at the head of the hotel bed where she had spent the last couple hours trying to read. It was useless though. They hadn't moved for a couple days, finally feeling safe enough to stay off the roads and to keep from moving around so much. They were pretty used to running after all but it could be a bit much after hours and days on the road. But now she almost didn't know what to do with herself when they stopped. Brushing her fingers through her hair, she bit back an irritated sigh as she let the book fall away to the bed and she looked around the room.
Finally she pushed off of the bed, glancing towards the door as she thought of finding Sylar and Peter. Shaking her head after a moment, she glanced at her phone on the dresser before disappearing into the bathroom. She still hadn't told Sylar about calling the Haitian. She figured she would wait till he called.
Sylar, too, had found himself growing restless in spite of the fact that it was his idea to stop, and so he'd stepped out for a bit, hoping for luck to strike and for him to find what he was looking for in town. That, unfortunately, had never happened, and so he had returned to the hotel room, empty-handed and near sulking. He took a moment to look around as the door closed behind him, as if he half expected stroke of genius to hit him, shook his head when it didn't, and moved over to the bed.
He'd gotten as far as flopping down on the mattress when something on the dresser rattled ominously.
He shot a glance in that direction, tensing, and caught sight of Claire's phone sitting there, buzzing away. Surprise turned to confusion -- no one ever called her, their phones neither active for long enough nor the numbers common knowledge -- and he got up, padding over to pick her phone up off the dresser. Another little look was cast in the direction of the bathroom, this one look of a child with his hand in the cookie jar and hoping he wouldn't be caught by his parents, and then he was flipping it open.
917 S. Roman St., it read, New Orleans, LA.
What the hell was this?
"Sylar."
Claire had heard the buzzing of her phone. Or at least she had thought it was the buzzing of her phone but obviously someone had gotten to her phone before she could. She hadn't expected him to come back while she was in the bathroom and so now she stood there with a wary expression on her face as she clutched the toothbrush in her hand. Her eyes flickered to the sight of the phone in his hand and then she looked back to his features, trying to read his reaction.
He looked up at her sharply and all without raising his head, his expression a mix of anger and simple bewilderment. And since she was no mind reader, he repeated the first thing that had come to mind when he'd noted the message, gesturing a bit wildly to the phone. "What the hell is this?"
"I don't know. What does it say?" she asked, lifting her chin slightly.
"It's an address." He didn't dare give her more than that until he knew what it was.
"Then it's the address to someone who can either restore lost abilities or give them," she explained easily enough as she turned to put her toothbrush down after rinsing it off.
A fraction of the anger faded at her honesty, relief falling through the place it had vacated, there and then gone in an instant. He'd thought for a moment she was going to betray him or simply leave him -- irrational, he knew, considering all they had been through, but it was the first thing that had come to him -- and to find he was mistaken took the edge off things.
Though he still wondered who had sent the text since there was no name attached to it, and so he asked, "Who sent this?"
"Either from Rene ... or my father." She knew the latter was going to bring back the anger that had just faded.
She was right. He stiffened abruptly, jaw steeling, and stared at her balefully. "You gave him your number."
"I gave Rene my number." She turned slightly to face him head on, crossing her arms in an almost defensive manner. "We were searching blindly, Sylar. We had no idea where to find what we were looking for and we were running out of time. We have no idea when that guy is going to find us next, so I thought it would be best if I called him just in case he could help. He said he'd ask my dad."
"We didn't need his help," he snapped, fingers curling around the phone so tightly the plastic moaned in protest. "I could have found someone. I would have."
"I know that." She stepped closer to him, dropping her hands to her sides. "But we're in trouble, Sylar. Serious trouble, and we don't have the time."
He didn't want to admit that she was right, nor was he entirely keen on accepting Bennet's help regardless of how dire the situation was, and so he waved the phone at her viciously, trying to keep her and her argument at bay. "How the hell do we know this isn't some kind of trap? Maybe Nathan put him up to it. Maybe he did it on his own because of me."
"Then you don't go." She knew he would never agree but still, she had to say it. "Plus Rene wouldn't let it happen." She shook her head at him, moving over to grab her bag to toss it on the edge of the bed so she could start packing up. "If he thought Nathan was going to be involved somehow, he'd warn me."
He pitched the phone onto the bed, moving away from her to stalk the edges room like a caged animal.
He still didn't like this idea, didn't like the fact that she hadn't told him -- though he was half-certain it was because she'd expected this kind of reaction, and so she'd thought it for the best if she didn't -- but he liked the idea that she seemed to be raring to go whether or not he came with her even less. Nor was he particularly keen on passing up a new ability, and one that powerful, if there was power to be had. The things he could do with that -- God, he'd never have to kill again if he didn't want to. He could just make whatever abilities he wanted come to him. Nathan and Samuel would be insects in comparison to him. They'd never have to worry about anything again.
Wetting his lips with his tongue, he shot her a glance, some of the anger having burnt away in the last few seconds. He said nothing, however, still caught in the war between his pride and his ambitions.
Claire didn't say anything as she watched him pace around the room. She knew that it bothered him that she hadn't told him but she had expected the reaction he was giving her right now and she knew it would have deterred her from doing what needed to be done. She didn't like getting outside help any more than he did but they needed it, especially if they were going to survive. So, after a moment, she moved over to him as she abandoned her packing.
"I'm sorry," she murmured, reaching up to cup his face between her hands as she drew his attention to her face. "I just don't want to lose you. I don't want anything to happen to either one of us, so I took a chance and hopefully it will pay off. If we could get Peter's abilities back or something, then we'll be on a more level playing field. We'll be able to defend ourselves better." She nodded her head slowly. "And now we don't have to waste any more time looking."
Given his mood, it was something of a small miracle that he'd let her approach, let alone touch him, but he had, even going as far as to stop mid-step, looking down at her as her fingers found his face. He said nothing for a long time after she finished, instead contenting himself to watch her, and then finally, he sighed, pushing away from her slowly to move to the bed and the abandoned suitcase. "Fine."
Letting her hands drop to her sides, she fought back the strangest urge to cry as she nodded with a slow breath. "Fine." He was going to be mad at her for awhile but there was nothing to be done about it. She had made a call and she could only hope it would pay off in the end.
wc: 1520
[Cowritten with heroslayer. Follows this and this.]
Claire sighed as she continued to recline against the mountain of pillows that were stacked at the head of the hotel bed where she had spent the last couple hours trying to read. It was useless though. They hadn't moved for a couple days, finally feeling safe enough to stay off the roads and to keep from moving around so much. They were pretty used to running after all but it could be a bit much after hours and days on the road. But now she almost didn't know what to do with herself when they stopped. Brushing her fingers through her hair, she bit back an irritated sigh as she let the book fall away to the bed and she looked around the room.
Finally she pushed off of the bed, glancing towards the door as she thought of finding Sylar and Peter. Shaking her head after a moment, she glanced at her phone on the dresser before disappearing into the bathroom. She still hadn't told Sylar about calling the Haitian. She figured she would wait till he called.
Sylar, too, had found himself growing restless in spite of the fact that it was his idea to stop, and so he'd stepped out for a bit, hoping for luck to strike and for him to find what he was looking for in town. That, unfortunately, had never happened, and so he had returned to the hotel room, empty-handed and near sulking. He took a moment to look around as the door closed behind him, as if he half expected stroke of genius to hit him, shook his head when it didn't, and moved over to the bed.
He'd gotten as far as flopping down on the mattress when something on the dresser rattled ominously.
He shot a glance in that direction, tensing, and caught sight of Claire's phone sitting there, buzzing away. Surprise turned to confusion -- no one ever called her, their phones neither active for long enough nor the numbers common knowledge -- and he got up, padding over to pick her phone up off the dresser. Another little look was cast in the direction of the bathroom, this one look of a child with his hand in the cookie jar and hoping he wouldn't be caught by his parents, and then he was flipping it open.
917 S. Roman St., it read, New Orleans, LA.
What the hell was this?
"Sylar."
Claire had heard the buzzing of her phone. Or at least she had thought it was the buzzing of her phone but obviously someone had gotten to her phone before she could. She hadn't expected him to come back while she was in the bathroom and so now she stood there with a wary expression on her face as she clutched the toothbrush in her hand. Her eyes flickered to the sight of the phone in his hand and then she looked back to his features, trying to read his reaction.
He looked up at her sharply and all without raising his head, his expression a mix of anger and simple bewilderment. And since she was no mind reader, he repeated the first thing that had come to mind when he'd noted the message, gesturing a bit wildly to the phone. "What the hell is this?"
"I don't know. What does it say?" she asked, lifting her chin slightly.
"It's an address." He didn't dare give her more than that until he knew what it was.
"Then it's the address to someone who can either restore lost abilities or give them," she explained easily enough as she turned to put her toothbrush down after rinsing it off.
A fraction of the anger faded at her honesty, relief falling through the place it had vacated, there and then gone in an instant. He'd thought for a moment she was going to betray him or simply leave him -- irrational, he knew, considering all they had been through, but it was the first thing that had come to him -- and to find he was mistaken took the edge off things.
Though he still wondered who had sent the text since there was no name attached to it, and so he asked, "Who sent this?"
"Either from Rene ... or my father." She knew the latter was going to bring back the anger that had just faded.
She was right. He stiffened abruptly, jaw steeling, and stared at her balefully. "You gave him your number."
"I gave Rene my number." She turned slightly to face him head on, crossing her arms in an almost defensive manner. "We were searching blindly, Sylar. We had no idea where to find what we were looking for and we were running out of time. We have no idea when that guy is going to find us next, so I thought it would be best if I called him just in case he could help. He said he'd ask my dad."
"We didn't need his help," he snapped, fingers curling around the phone so tightly the plastic moaned in protest. "I could have found someone. I would have."
"I know that." She stepped closer to him, dropping her hands to her sides. "But we're in trouble, Sylar. Serious trouble, and we don't have the time."
He didn't want to admit that she was right, nor was he entirely keen on accepting Bennet's help regardless of how dire the situation was, and so he waved the phone at her viciously, trying to keep her and her argument at bay. "How the hell do we know this isn't some kind of trap? Maybe Nathan put him up to it. Maybe he did it on his own because of me."
"Then you don't go." She knew he would never agree but still, she had to say it. "Plus Rene wouldn't let it happen." She shook her head at him, moving over to grab her bag to toss it on the edge of the bed so she could start packing up. "If he thought Nathan was going to be involved somehow, he'd warn me."
He pitched the phone onto the bed, moving away from her to stalk the edges room like a caged animal.
He still didn't like this idea, didn't like the fact that she hadn't told him -- though he was half-certain it was because she'd expected this kind of reaction, and so she'd thought it for the best if she didn't -- but he liked the idea that she seemed to be raring to go whether or not he came with her even less. Nor was he particularly keen on passing up a new ability, and one that powerful, if there was power to be had. The things he could do with that -- God, he'd never have to kill again if he didn't want to. He could just make whatever abilities he wanted come to him. Nathan and Samuel would be insects in comparison to him. They'd never have to worry about anything again.
Wetting his lips with his tongue, he shot her a glance, some of the anger having burnt away in the last few seconds. He said nothing, however, still caught in the war between his pride and his ambitions.
Claire didn't say anything as she watched him pace around the room. She knew that it bothered him that she hadn't told him but she had expected the reaction he was giving her right now and she knew it would have deterred her from doing what needed to be done. She didn't like getting outside help any more than he did but they needed it, especially if they were going to survive. So, after a moment, she moved over to him as she abandoned her packing.
"I'm sorry," she murmured, reaching up to cup his face between her hands as she drew his attention to her face. "I just don't want to lose you. I don't want anything to happen to either one of us, so I took a chance and hopefully it will pay off. If we could get Peter's abilities back or something, then we'll be on a more level playing field. We'll be able to defend ourselves better." She nodded her head slowly. "And now we don't have to waste any more time looking."
Given his mood, it was something of a small miracle that he'd let her approach, let alone touch him, but he had, even going as far as to stop mid-step, looking down at her as her fingers found his face. He said nothing for a long time after she finished, instead contenting himself to watch her, and then finally, he sighed, pushing away from her slowly to move to the bed and the abandoned suitcase. "Fine."
Letting her hands drop to her sides, she fought back the strangest urge to cry as she nodded with a slow breath. "Fine." He was going to be mad at her for awhile but there was nothing to be done about it. She had made a call and she could only hope it would pay off in the end.
wc: 1520
[Cowritten with heroslayer. Follows this and this.]