Forget Me Not Chapter 13/?
Title: Forget Me Not
Author: Bunny
Rating: T
Disclaimer: Nope, not at all mine.
Summary: Set around Shadowboxing; Claire discovers an amnesiac Sylar wandering around and takes it upon herself to help him.
A/N: So it’s been a little over a year since I first posted this fic and, by George, I am bound and determined to complete it soon! Thank you so much for staying with me all this time, being patient and supportive. Here’s the latest installment. Hope it doesn’t disappoint!
Prelude Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16
Sit back down on the couch where we
Made love the first time and you said to me,
There’s something, something about this place.
Something bout lonely nights and my lipstick on your face.
~ You & I; Lady Gaga
“You know I don’t want to push the issue, but have you thought about telling anyone else?” questioned Sweetie. “Namely, your family?”
Claire exhaled a tired sigh as they walked down the street, grocery bags in hand. “Of course I’ve thought about it, but what would I say? They’d want to know why I waited so long, who the Dad is, how it’s happening so fast. It’s just stuff I’m not ready to deal with.”
“Well you best get in the mood for dealing with it,” she announced. “You’re coming right up on month 5 and those sweatshirts won’t do anything to hide your ballooning figure soon after that time.”
Frowning, she consciously shoved a free hand into the front pocket stretching out the fabric. “I’ve got plenty of room,” she mumbled, yet knowing her neighbor was absolutely right.
Sweetie let out a hearty laugh as they passed a large black van that was perpetually parked outside their building. “You keep telling yourself that, Honey Child. You certainly made it farther in normal clothes than I ever did. Though I do admit, I enjoyed getting a new wardrobe with every child and post-child.”
It was Claire’s turn to laugh as they climbed the stairs to their floor. “That’s every woman’s dream, isn’t it? Any excuse for clothing?”
“Gotta admit, this isn’t the best way to achieve the dream, but an excuse is an excuse,” she reasoned. “It was a constant rotation for a few years. Get knocked up, new clothes. Give birth and loose half the baby weight, new clothes. Loose half of wardrobe to various baby messes, new clothes. Repeat for every baby. Let me tell you, the day I finally approached my husband wearing very un-mom lingerie - Sweet Jesus, what are you doing here?”
Claire froze, her mind reflecting what Sweetie spoke aloud. Her blood turned cold and was overcome with the desire to run, but was it back down the stairs or towards the man leaning by her door?
“I thought it was just Claire that called me that,” smirked Sylar.
“That is just rude,” chastised the older woman approaching him.
“I’m sorry, Sweetie,” he muttered, immediately having the foresight to appear shamed.
“Come here you!” she exclaimed, enveloping him into a large hug. This shocked Claire out of her statue impression forcing her to walk forward, sweaty palms be damned. The neighbor pulled back, moving to pinch his cheeks. “Look at you, Sweet Cheeks, we’ve missed you so much!” The pinch turned into a slap, and the mirth disappeared from her face. “Now where the hell you been, boy?”
Claire couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her at his stunned expression. His eyes shifted to hers and she was nearly paralyzed with emotion again. “I thought you said you were going to call,” she said trying to not let her inward jolt show.
“No, I said I was going to contact you soon,” he clarified. “I never specified how that would happen.”
“I don’t really appreciate unannounced visits,” she grumbled, shifting the bags. “I mean, what if I had company? What if I had a date?”
Sylar’s gaze darkened. “I wouldn’t like it.”
She tilted her head, not appreciating being told what to do. “Not really your call.”
“I still wouldn’t like it.”
The energy remained charged between them as they stared at each other until Sweetie cleared her throat. “As fun as it would be to sit in on this reunion, I think I have a phone call to make. Isn’t that right, Claire?”
“Yeah,” replied Claire, maintaining eye contact with Sylar as she unlocked her own door. “Go ahead.”
***
Sylar followed her into the room, shutting the door behind him. He watched her set the bags on the table so she could slip off her shoes. He smirked at the expected action, just realizing how much he missed the little habits. “So how long do we have before your dear old daddy shows up?” She opened her mouth to protest, but he continued speaking, “I assume that’s where Sweetie went.”
Her eyes slighted before she gave in. “I’m not sure. He hasn’t been around much, constantly on assignment.”
“Let’s get down to business then,” he offered, flopping down onto the couch. Oh, the fond memories in this particular spot.
“What’s the business?” Claire asked, obviously avoiding coming too close to him. “If you remember all our time together, what more do we need to talk about it?”
“I haven’t really decided yet. I’m just here to rub it in,” he thought aloud. “Or blackmail. I take it Daddy Dearest and Super Uncle don’t know about us?”
Sylar thought he could hear her teeth actually grind together. “Not yet…”
“You were going to volunteer that information?” he asked skeptically.
She gave a curt nod. “Eventually.” She wasn’t kidding, which gave him a pause so she continued, choosing to remain standing. “Where have you been all this time? How’d you get your memory back?”
“I went to the Carnival. You were right about Samuel, he’s slipperier than a freshly peeled melon. But he pulled through with returning my memories, which let me tell you was an unpleasant and lengthy process.
“And this took you nearly six weeks?”
Sylar grimaced, not caring to admit his problem. “Considering the fact I had nearly a year’s worth of memories tearing through my brain, my mind overloaded. I was still disoriented when I was buried alive then I needed a little me time, even after I called you.”
Under her breath he heard her mutter something that sounded similar to, “Wimp,” but he chose to ignore it. Instead he silently observed her. Something was different. She had clearly been stressed; dark circles under her eyes, wearing sweats, hair back in a messy pony tail, and though it looked good she had even put on a little weight. Despite all of this, he couldn’t help but have a clearer head just being near her again. In his mind she still looked perfect. “Well?” she interrupted his thoughts. “Are you actually going to ask me anything?”
“So, I make you feel normal?” he asked with a tease.
“Not right now you don’t,” she sassed defensively.
“Fair enough,” he allowed with a laugh. “Next topic, would you have really left with me?”
Claire went to mess with the objects she had dropped on the table. “It was your idea,” she mumbled, beginning to empty the bags.
“And yet you were the one who was willing to implement it,” he pointed out. Stretching out on the couch he continued, just enjoying watching her. “How exactly were you going to play it out? Were we going to hide out in rural America? Play house there for a little bit until you got tired? Or was it going to be some place in Europe? Move around to a few of the more glitzy cities when things grew stale there?”
“Are you going to mock absolutely everything I said or did with you?” demanded Claire, slamming a can down on the wooden surface. “Turn it back on me to hurt me for your amusement? Was it so painful for you to feel normal too that you have to take it out on me?”
Finally she was opening up enough so he could get to his point. “Do you remember on the roof? Before Parkman put me back together?” Though her stance was still tense, she nodded mutedly. “I hurt you the most then.”
“Well you got something right,” she replied with a slight crack to her voice.
“I interrupted you on that rooftop,” ventured Sylar evenly. “I have to know what you were going to say.”
Her head jerked in disbelief. “Are you kidding me?” she snapped. “You wouldn’t let me say it. I guess my chance to pour my heart out in the moment wasn’t convenient enough for you or whatever, but that moment has passed now. So tough luck.”
“I don’t care about back then. I was soft, delusional, and weak,” he spat out disgusted with himself. He stood suddenly to better observe her reaction. “I want to know what you would say now.”
“Now?” she repeated with a wide eyebrow raise, allowing him to better see her precious eyes. “Right now I would say get the hell out of my home.”
“Claire.” With her name he made it clear she had better answer him with the truth.
She hesitated, moving her jaw considering something. “I don’t know.”
He stood as his eyes slit at her honesty. “How do you not know?”
“When you came here today, what did you want to do to me?” she inquired with a sigh.
“I was torn between kissing you senseless and torturing you,” he replied without missing a beat.
“Then how can you demand that I have an answer, when you’re still figuring things out yourself?”
“Because I know you’ve been thinking about it too,” Sylar countered, walking near her to lean against the table. “You know what I’ve been thinking about the most,” he began in a deep suggestive voice, which was enough of an effect to make her falter in her handling on a small bag of apples.
Barely his hand he caught them with his mind, bringing them into her hands. Awkwardly her lip twitched in an amused fashion, “Thanks.”
He enjoyed the teasing, making her uncomfortable and embarrassed. “I’ve been thinking about the different ways you enjoyed my powers,” he leered, leaning in near her. “And all the powers we never did try out.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Cut it out, Sylar.”
Of course this only inclined him to push her comfort level. “Just so you know I do have this ability that you might appreciate when used in the shower.”
“If you think this is going to turn into a booty call, then you can leave right now,” announced Claire, sounding both angry and 100% certain of her answer. “Just drop it.”
Something about the way she said this rang odd to Sylar. It was more than just a decline; there was no conflict, no fleeting desire, no hatred. There was no emotion attached to the decision, it was simply a fact in her mind. He decided to push a little more. “Are you sure?” he asked, sliding into her personal space. He reached to drag his hand up her arm, “If you’d like something more normal I think I remember that we never did discover how durable the kitchen table was…”
“I said drop it,” she snapped, ducking out of reach. The flush on her skin indicated her interest, but there was something stopping her.
“There’s something different with you,” he realized, grabbing her arm to make her confront him.
“Please don’t touch me,” she gasped, slipping out of his hold as she continued to back away to the other side of the living room.
Instead Sylar grabbed at her again, spinning her to face him. He gripped her jaw to look at her entirely. Something that danced in her eyes wounded him. “You’re scared of me.”
“Terrified,” she breathed out in barely a whisper.
“You weren’t before,” he reasoned, extremely bothered by this revelation. “You haven’t been scared of me in a very long time, not since I took your power. What changed?”
Claire backed away and strongly held out her chin. “Well, we aren’t exactly buddy buddy anymore, Sylar. There’s this whole thing where I don’t trust you.”
“You shared with me everything about your life,” he offered, trying to make the situation better.
“And what do you do with that information? You come in here talking about blackmail and torture, that’s not really a way to bolster the relationship,” she explained, sounding absolutely pissed off. “Or how about on a less personal matter, when was the last time you murdered someone?”
His eye brows furrowed into a displeased frown. “When was the last time you asked Noah that question?”
It was enough to make her pause for a moment, but she continued with the fiery passion of before. “We are not talking about him, this is about you right now. When was the last time you murdered someone? Hell, I’ll even give you a little leeway. When was the last time you had to kill someone? Was your or another person’s life in danger? Could you have gotten away with just harming them? Or was it selfish, man pride like usual?”
Besides the man at the Carnival, he had killed two others on his way here. One man to steal his car and throw any followers off his trail, and another for a power pick me up. “Five days ago.”
There was a drop in the intensity of Claire’s eyes. “Oh…”
“Don’t look at me like that,” he growled, shaking her frame.
“Like what?” she sassed. “Like you’re a monster?”
“No,” he hissed, not remotely bothered by the monster comment. “Like you’re disappointed in me.”
The harsh glare on her face softened a bit. “I don’t want to be,” she whispered.
Sylar allowed himself to feel some hope at the simple admission. “If I stop killing people you’ll trust me?”
“It would be a big start,” she conceded, her voice indicating that had been an obvious answer. “We still have a long way to go though.”
Smiling slightly he reached for her hand, squeezing her hand and pleased to feel that she gave pressure back. “Gives me something to look forward to when I see you again.”
“But I don’t want to see you again,” rushed Claire. The utter clarity and honesty from this statement threw him for yet another loop as he dropped her hand. Time seemed to have stopped for a moment as indescribable fury and despair coursed through him. “Not for a few weeks at least.”
“Sorry, what?” he blinked back to the real world with her clarification.
“This is still weird,” she explained hesitantly. “I want a little bit of time to wrap my head around this whole thing before we meet up again. Do you think you can respect that? No tricky wording, no surprise visits. You won’t pop up until I’m ready?”
Sylar remained silent, not at all appreciating the conditions of this arrangement. He was inexplicably desperate to keep this connection. As much as he hated to admit it, he was the one who had to make things up to her. “Then you have to pick up your phone when I call.”
“Deal,” she instantly agreed. Speaking of phones, hers began to ring at that moment. Her eyes flickered over to where it lay on the coffee table. “I’d bet that’s my dad. You’d better get out of here.”
Claire started to walk away, but he pulled her nearer. “I didn’t come here to fight with you,” he began, knowing that time was running out, but needing her to understand. “I want you to trust me. I want you to get to know me. I can’t explain why, but this is important to me. And I think it’s important to you, too.”
As opposed to letting her contradict, he took the initiative and sealed the deal with a kiss. Not an action she objected to Sylar took the full opportunity to make it last as he wished. As this was the first kiss they had shared since his mind had been whole, he wasn’t about to let it be the one she forgot. Tugging at her hair he pulled out the pony tail as she came in closer, though his mouth couldn’t get any closer to her face. Ever touch of lips, ever sound, every sensation wasn’t enough and he craved more. He craved every part of her. Claire kept a hand pressed against his stomach for the illusion of distance, but they both knew this kiss was as intimate as they had time for.
She gave a small gasp for encouragement so he continued to press his lips against hers, not that he minded in the least. As his tongue touched hers he determined this was something he definitely had missed. She was hiding something, he was absolutely certain, but he’d rather spend his remaining moments doing this than asking questions.
Despite the fact that the door crashed open, Sylar continued his lip lock with a hand trailing down her side. Waiting just a second more, he continued the kiss to be sure her father observed their activity before he leaped for the window.
***
As he tore his lips from hers to jump out of the window, Claire let out a brief cry as she felt part of her heart rip away. She couldn’t hear the shout from her father for her to move; she barely registered him barging to the window, firing two shots down to the street, gesturing wildly for someone to go follow him. But she knew Sylar would be long gone.
Her hand remained covering her mouth, attempting to hold back sobs. Noah holstered his gun in order to attend to his daughter. He gripped at both of her shoulders to get her full attention. “Are you alright? What happened? Did he harm you?”
She shook her head, looking up at him with tear blurred eyes. The level of concern her dad showed to her tipped the pile of extreme confusion she had felt in the past months. Despite Sylar’s promises, she felt more alone and frightened than she had in a long while. She just couldn’t keep it to herself anymore. “Dad, I have to tell you something.”
“What did he do to you?” demanded Noah, eyes going dark.
“No, it’s not like that… I mean, yeah, but not like you’re thinking…” Claire shook her head to get her thoughts in order. “Do you remember Nathan’s funeral, when I told you I had just gotten out of a bad relationship?”
“Did Sylar do something to him?”
Wordlessly she shook her head, still hiccupping. “It was Sylar.”
Noah’s fingers dug into her shoulders as his face paled. “No…”
“It wasn’t like I planned it,” she tried to reason as he turned away in dismay. “He had amnesia, he needed help and answers, he had no place to go -”
“So you invited him to stay here!” he filled in the blanks, shouting in a pure anger.
“If you guys hadn’t lied and had just killed him at the Stanton, none of this would have happened,” she threw back, not enjoying having to defend herself despite knowing all along this would be the case.
“You cannot blame me,” he countered with eerie calm. “You still knew who he was. You still knew what he had done; to you, this family, to countless victims around the world.”
“He didn’t remember any of that -”
“And that makes it okay?”
“That’s not what I mean!” yelled Claire, losing all the calm she had held together. “Quit twisting my words around!”
“Did he convince you that’s what I do?”
“Stop it! Just stop it!” she exclaimed. “I screwed up, okay!” she yelled, crying harder. “But you have no idea what it was like. One day realizing that I was going to be all alone. That a hundred years from now you will all be dead and I might not even have the capability to feel that grief or sadness from the loss.”
“What are you talking about, Claire?” Noah asked, calming down from the initial anger burst.
“I can’t feel pain and I can’t die,” she explained sniffling. “Who knows how long it’ll be before I don’t feel anything, emotions or physical sensations.”
Her father’s eyebrows were knitted up in confusion. “Why didn’t you tell me? You’re probably not the only special who has had this problem, I’m sure it’s nothing you need to be worried about.”
“I know that now,” she said with a little smile, remembering her bathtub meltdown and what had resulted afterwards. Her chest lightened the tiniest bit. “And you want to know who helped me understand that. Sylar.” She let out a little relieved giggle. Wiping her face dry, she announced, “If I could do it all again, would I handle things differently? Probably, but I refuse to be sorry for the outcome.”
“But what about now?” pointed out Noah. “Does he share in your revelation?”
That stopped her. Sylar had never blatantly said as such, but the whole arrangement they worked out was because he felt the same way. Right? She supposed this time apart would be to figure that out. Tears blurred her vision once more and she couldn’t help but curse her hormones yet again.
“We now have to figure out the game he’s playing here. What he has to gain by using you? What it is that he wants?”
“I’m sorry,” she cried absolutely exhausted. Not able to do much else she just stood there and repeated the phrase. Too tired to argue anymore, she just wanted everything to be better. “I’m sorry.”
Noah hugged his daughter as she continued to apologize. “It’s alright,” he muttered. “Everything will be alright, I’ll see to it.”
He led her to sit down on the couch before getting out his phone and walking down the hall. Claire let him handle business without any questions, finally just getting her tears under control. Her face felt puffy and her eyes throbbed with her heartbeat. She realized she hadn’t even got to the bombshell part of her news as she held both hands over her abdomen. It was a wonder that Sylar hadn’t noticed.
When Noah returned Claire released a calming breath, mentally preparing for another yelling match. “I was just calling my partner for news. He’s heading back up here now.” Claire nodded blankly becoming more and more nervous. They remained awkwardly silent for a few moments before he cleared his throat. “Come here,” he instructed with wide arms. Numbly she stood and wrapped her own arms tightly around him.
“I am scared, Dad,” she admitted, burying her face into his shirt.
“Everything will be alright, Claire-Bear.” During the hug she heard someone enter the apartment. Presuming it was her dad’s partner she continued the embrace. “Everything will be alright,” he repeated with a little choke in his voice and gripping her tighter.
Claire whipped her head back to find Rene striding up to them, one hand out towards her. Her struggling was useless and all she could do was let out a scream of protest as his hand came in contact with her forehead.
Prelude Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16
Author: Bunny
Rating: T
Disclaimer: Nope, not at all mine.
Summary: Set around Shadowboxing; Claire discovers an amnesiac Sylar wandering around and takes it upon herself to help him.
A/N: So it’s been a little over a year since I first posted this fic and, by George, I am bound and determined to complete it soon! Thank you so much for staying with me all this time, being patient and supportive. Here’s the latest installment. Hope it doesn’t disappoint!
Prelude Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16
Sit back down on the couch where we
Made love the first time and you said to me,
There’s something, something about this place.
Something bout lonely nights and my lipstick on your face.
~ You & I; Lady Gaga
“You know I don’t want to push the issue, but have you thought about telling anyone else?” questioned Sweetie. “Namely, your family?”
Claire exhaled a tired sigh as they walked down the street, grocery bags in hand. “Of course I’ve thought about it, but what would I say? They’d want to know why I waited so long, who the Dad is, how it’s happening so fast. It’s just stuff I’m not ready to deal with.”
“Well you best get in the mood for dealing with it,” she announced. “You’re coming right up on month 5 and those sweatshirts won’t do anything to hide your ballooning figure soon after that time.”
Frowning, she consciously shoved a free hand into the front pocket stretching out the fabric. “I’ve got plenty of room,” she mumbled, yet knowing her neighbor was absolutely right.
Sweetie let out a hearty laugh as they passed a large black van that was perpetually parked outside their building. “You keep telling yourself that, Honey Child. You certainly made it farther in normal clothes than I ever did. Though I do admit, I enjoyed getting a new wardrobe with every child and post-child.”
It was Claire’s turn to laugh as they climbed the stairs to their floor. “That’s every woman’s dream, isn’t it? Any excuse for clothing?”
“Gotta admit, this isn’t the best way to achieve the dream, but an excuse is an excuse,” she reasoned. “It was a constant rotation for a few years. Get knocked up, new clothes. Give birth and loose half the baby weight, new clothes. Loose half of wardrobe to various baby messes, new clothes. Repeat for every baby. Let me tell you, the day I finally approached my husband wearing very un-mom lingerie - Sweet Jesus, what are you doing here?”
Claire froze, her mind reflecting what Sweetie spoke aloud. Her blood turned cold and was overcome with the desire to run, but was it back down the stairs or towards the man leaning by her door?
“I thought it was just Claire that called me that,” smirked Sylar.
“That is just rude,” chastised the older woman approaching him.
“I’m sorry, Sweetie,” he muttered, immediately having the foresight to appear shamed.
“Come here you!” she exclaimed, enveloping him into a large hug. This shocked Claire out of her statue impression forcing her to walk forward, sweaty palms be damned. The neighbor pulled back, moving to pinch his cheeks. “Look at you, Sweet Cheeks, we’ve missed you so much!” The pinch turned into a slap, and the mirth disappeared from her face. “Now where the hell you been, boy?”
Claire couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her at his stunned expression. His eyes shifted to hers and she was nearly paralyzed with emotion again. “I thought you said you were going to call,” she said trying to not let her inward jolt show.
“No, I said I was going to contact you soon,” he clarified. “I never specified how that would happen.”
“I don’t really appreciate unannounced visits,” she grumbled, shifting the bags. “I mean, what if I had company? What if I had a date?”
Sylar’s gaze darkened. “I wouldn’t like it.”
She tilted her head, not appreciating being told what to do. “Not really your call.”
“I still wouldn’t like it.”
The energy remained charged between them as they stared at each other until Sweetie cleared her throat. “As fun as it would be to sit in on this reunion, I think I have a phone call to make. Isn’t that right, Claire?”
“Yeah,” replied Claire, maintaining eye contact with Sylar as she unlocked her own door. “Go ahead.”
***
Sylar followed her into the room, shutting the door behind him. He watched her set the bags on the table so she could slip off her shoes. He smirked at the expected action, just realizing how much he missed the little habits. “So how long do we have before your dear old daddy shows up?” She opened her mouth to protest, but he continued speaking, “I assume that’s where Sweetie went.”
Her eyes slighted before she gave in. “I’m not sure. He hasn’t been around much, constantly on assignment.”
“Let’s get down to business then,” he offered, flopping down onto the couch. Oh, the fond memories in this particular spot.
“What’s the business?” Claire asked, obviously avoiding coming too close to him. “If you remember all our time together, what more do we need to talk about it?”
“I haven’t really decided yet. I’m just here to rub it in,” he thought aloud. “Or blackmail. I take it Daddy Dearest and Super Uncle don’t know about us?”
Sylar thought he could hear her teeth actually grind together. “Not yet…”
“You were going to volunteer that information?” he asked skeptically.
She gave a curt nod. “Eventually.” She wasn’t kidding, which gave him a pause so she continued, choosing to remain standing. “Where have you been all this time? How’d you get your memory back?”
“I went to the Carnival. You were right about Samuel, he’s slipperier than a freshly peeled melon. But he pulled through with returning my memories, which let me tell you was an unpleasant and lengthy process.
“And this took you nearly six weeks?”
Sylar grimaced, not caring to admit his problem. “Considering the fact I had nearly a year’s worth of memories tearing through my brain, my mind overloaded. I was still disoriented when I was buried alive then I needed a little me time, even after I called you.”
Under her breath he heard her mutter something that sounded similar to, “Wimp,” but he chose to ignore it. Instead he silently observed her. Something was different. She had clearly been stressed; dark circles under her eyes, wearing sweats, hair back in a messy pony tail, and though it looked good she had even put on a little weight. Despite all of this, he couldn’t help but have a clearer head just being near her again. In his mind she still looked perfect. “Well?” she interrupted his thoughts. “Are you actually going to ask me anything?”
“So, I make you feel normal?” he asked with a tease.
“Not right now you don’t,” she sassed defensively.
“Fair enough,” he allowed with a laugh. “Next topic, would you have really left with me?”
Claire went to mess with the objects she had dropped on the table. “It was your idea,” she mumbled, beginning to empty the bags.
“And yet you were the one who was willing to implement it,” he pointed out. Stretching out on the couch he continued, just enjoying watching her. “How exactly were you going to play it out? Were we going to hide out in rural America? Play house there for a little bit until you got tired? Or was it going to be some place in Europe? Move around to a few of the more glitzy cities when things grew stale there?”
“Are you going to mock absolutely everything I said or did with you?” demanded Claire, slamming a can down on the wooden surface. “Turn it back on me to hurt me for your amusement? Was it so painful for you to feel normal too that you have to take it out on me?”
Finally she was opening up enough so he could get to his point. “Do you remember on the roof? Before Parkman put me back together?” Though her stance was still tense, she nodded mutedly. “I hurt you the most then.”
“Well you got something right,” she replied with a slight crack to her voice.
“I interrupted you on that rooftop,” ventured Sylar evenly. “I have to know what you were going to say.”
Her head jerked in disbelief. “Are you kidding me?” she snapped. “You wouldn’t let me say it. I guess my chance to pour my heart out in the moment wasn’t convenient enough for you or whatever, but that moment has passed now. So tough luck.”
“I don’t care about back then. I was soft, delusional, and weak,” he spat out disgusted with himself. He stood suddenly to better observe her reaction. “I want to know what you would say now.”
“Now?” she repeated with a wide eyebrow raise, allowing him to better see her precious eyes. “Right now I would say get the hell out of my home.”
“Claire.” With her name he made it clear she had better answer him with the truth.
She hesitated, moving her jaw considering something. “I don’t know.”
He stood as his eyes slit at her honesty. “How do you not know?”
“When you came here today, what did you want to do to me?” she inquired with a sigh.
“I was torn between kissing you senseless and torturing you,” he replied without missing a beat.
“Then how can you demand that I have an answer, when you’re still figuring things out yourself?”
“Because I know you’ve been thinking about it too,” Sylar countered, walking near her to lean against the table. “You know what I’ve been thinking about the most,” he began in a deep suggestive voice, which was enough of an effect to make her falter in her handling on a small bag of apples.
Barely his hand he caught them with his mind, bringing them into her hands. Awkwardly her lip twitched in an amused fashion, “Thanks.”
He enjoyed the teasing, making her uncomfortable and embarrassed. “I’ve been thinking about the different ways you enjoyed my powers,” he leered, leaning in near her. “And all the powers we never did try out.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Cut it out, Sylar.”
Of course this only inclined him to push her comfort level. “Just so you know I do have this ability that you might appreciate when used in the shower.”
“If you think this is going to turn into a booty call, then you can leave right now,” announced Claire, sounding both angry and 100% certain of her answer. “Just drop it.”
Something about the way she said this rang odd to Sylar. It was more than just a decline; there was no conflict, no fleeting desire, no hatred. There was no emotion attached to the decision, it was simply a fact in her mind. He decided to push a little more. “Are you sure?” he asked, sliding into her personal space. He reached to drag his hand up her arm, “If you’d like something more normal I think I remember that we never did discover how durable the kitchen table was…”
“I said drop it,” she snapped, ducking out of reach. The flush on her skin indicated her interest, but there was something stopping her.
“There’s something different with you,” he realized, grabbing her arm to make her confront him.
“Please don’t touch me,” she gasped, slipping out of his hold as she continued to back away to the other side of the living room.
Instead Sylar grabbed at her again, spinning her to face him. He gripped her jaw to look at her entirely. Something that danced in her eyes wounded him. “You’re scared of me.”
“Terrified,” she breathed out in barely a whisper.
“You weren’t before,” he reasoned, extremely bothered by this revelation. “You haven’t been scared of me in a very long time, not since I took your power. What changed?”
Claire backed away and strongly held out her chin. “Well, we aren’t exactly buddy buddy anymore, Sylar. There’s this whole thing where I don’t trust you.”
“You shared with me everything about your life,” he offered, trying to make the situation better.
“And what do you do with that information? You come in here talking about blackmail and torture, that’s not really a way to bolster the relationship,” she explained, sounding absolutely pissed off. “Or how about on a less personal matter, when was the last time you murdered someone?”
His eye brows furrowed into a displeased frown. “When was the last time you asked Noah that question?”
It was enough to make her pause for a moment, but she continued with the fiery passion of before. “We are not talking about him, this is about you right now. When was the last time you murdered someone? Hell, I’ll even give you a little leeway. When was the last time you had to kill someone? Was your or another person’s life in danger? Could you have gotten away with just harming them? Or was it selfish, man pride like usual?”
Besides the man at the Carnival, he had killed two others on his way here. One man to steal his car and throw any followers off his trail, and another for a power pick me up. “Five days ago.”
There was a drop in the intensity of Claire’s eyes. “Oh…”
“Don’t look at me like that,” he growled, shaking her frame.
“Like what?” she sassed. “Like you’re a monster?”
“No,” he hissed, not remotely bothered by the monster comment. “Like you’re disappointed in me.”
The harsh glare on her face softened a bit. “I don’t want to be,” she whispered.
Sylar allowed himself to feel some hope at the simple admission. “If I stop killing people you’ll trust me?”
“It would be a big start,” she conceded, her voice indicating that had been an obvious answer. “We still have a long way to go though.”
Smiling slightly he reached for her hand, squeezing her hand and pleased to feel that she gave pressure back. “Gives me something to look forward to when I see you again.”
“But I don’t want to see you again,” rushed Claire. The utter clarity and honesty from this statement threw him for yet another loop as he dropped her hand. Time seemed to have stopped for a moment as indescribable fury and despair coursed through him. “Not for a few weeks at least.”
“Sorry, what?” he blinked back to the real world with her clarification.
“This is still weird,” she explained hesitantly. “I want a little bit of time to wrap my head around this whole thing before we meet up again. Do you think you can respect that? No tricky wording, no surprise visits. You won’t pop up until I’m ready?”
Sylar remained silent, not at all appreciating the conditions of this arrangement. He was inexplicably desperate to keep this connection. As much as he hated to admit it, he was the one who had to make things up to her. “Then you have to pick up your phone when I call.”
“Deal,” she instantly agreed. Speaking of phones, hers began to ring at that moment. Her eyes flickered over to where it lay on the coffee table. “I’d bet that’s my dad. You’d better get out of here.”
Claire started to walk away, but he pulled her nearer. “I didn’t come here to fight with you,” he began, knowing that time was running out, but needing her to understand. “I want you to trust me. I want you to get to know me. I can’t explain why, but this is important to me. And I think it’s important to you, too.”
As opposed to letting her contradict, he took the initiative and sealed the deal with a kiss. Not an action she objected to Sylar took the full opportunity to make it last as he wished. As this was the first kiss they had shared since his mind had been whole, he wasn’t about to let it be the one she forgot. Tugging at her hair he pulled out the pony tail as she came in closer, though his mouth couldn’t get any closer to her face. Ever touch of lips, ever sound, every sensation wasn’t enough and he craved more. He craved every part of her. Claire kept a hand pressed against his stomach for the illusion of distance, but they both knew this kiss was as intimate as they had time for.
She gave a small gasp for encouragement so he continued to press his lips against hers, not that he minded in the least. As his tongue touched hers he determined this was something he definitely had missed. She was hiding something, he was absolutely certain, but he’d rather spend his remaining moments doing this than asking questions.
Despite the fact that the door crashed open, Sylar continued his lip lock with a hand trailing down her side. Waiting just a second more, he continued the kiss to be sure her father observed their activity before he leaped for the window.
***
As he tore his lips from hers to jump out of the window, Claire let out a brief cry as she felt part of her heart rip away. She couldn’t hear the shout from her father for her to move; she barely registered him barging to the window, firing two shots down to the street, gesturing wildly for someone to go follow him. But she knew Sylar would be long gone.
Her hand remained covering her mouth, attempting to hold back sobs. Noah holstered his gun in order to attend to his daughter. He gripped at both of her shoulders to get her full attention. “Are you alright? What happened? Did he harm you?”
She shook her head, looking up at him with tear blurred eyes. The level of concern her dad showed to her tipped the pile of extreme confusion she had felt in the past months. Despite Sylar’s promises, she felt more alone and frightened than she had in a long while. She just couldn’t keep it to herself anymore. “Dad, I have to tell you something.”
“What did he do to you?” demanded Noah, eyes going dark.
“No, it’s not like that… I mean, yeah, but not like you’re thinking…” Claire shook her head to get her thoughts in order. “Do you remember Nathan’s funeral, when I told you I had just gotten out of a bad relationship?”
“Did Sylar do something to him?”
Wordlessly she shook her head, still hiccupping. “It was Sylar.”
Noah’s fingers dug into her shoulders as his face paled. “No…”
“It wasn’t like I planned it,” she tried to reason as he turned away in dismay. “He had amnesia, he needed help and answers, he had no place to go -”
“So you invited him to stay here!” he filled in the blanks, shouting in a pure anger.
“If you guys hadn’t lied and had just killed him at the Stanton, none of this would have happened,” she threw back, not enjoying having to defend herself despite knowing all along this would be the case.
“You cannot blame me,” he countered with eerie calm. “You still knew who he was. You still knew what he had done; to you, this family, to countless victims around the world.”
“He didn’t remember any of that -”
“And that makes it okay?”
“That’s not what I mean!” yelled Claire, losing all the calm she had held together. “Quit twisting my words around!”
“Did he convince you that’s what I do?”
“Stop it! Just stop it!” she exclaimed. “I screwed up, okay!” she yelled, crying harder. “But you have no idea what it was like. One day realizing that I was going to be all alone. That a hundred years from now you will all be dead and I might not even have the capability to feel that grief or sadness from the loss.”
“What are you talking about, Claire?” Noah asked, calming down from the initial anger burst.
“I can’t feel pain and I can’t die,” she explained sniffling. “Who knows how long it’ll be before I don’t feel anything, emotions or physical sensations.”
Her father’s eyebrows were knitted up in confusion. “Why didn’t you tell me? You’re probably not the only special who has had this problem, I’m sure it’s nothing you need to be worried about.”
“I know that now,” she said with a little smile, remembering her bathtub meltdown and what had resulted afterwards. Her chest lightened the tiniest bit. “And you want to know who helped me understand that. Sylar.” She let out a little relieved giggle. Wiping her face dry, she announced, “If I could do it all again, would I handle things differently? Probably, but I refuse to be sorry for the outcome.”
“But what about now?” pointed out Noah. “Does he share in your revelation?”
That stopped her. Sylar had never blatantly said as such, but the whole arrangement they worked out was because he felt the same way. Right? She supposed this time apart would be to figure that out. Tears blurred her vision once more and she couldn’t help but curse her hormones yet again.
“We now have to figure out the game he’s playing here. What he has to gain by using you? What it is that he wants?”
“I’m sorry,” she cried absolutely exhausted. Not able to do much else she just stood there and repeated the phrase. Too tired to argue anymore, she just wanted everything to be better. “I’m sorry.”
Noah hugged his daughter as she continued to apologize. “It’s alright,” he muttered. “Everything will be alright, I’ll see to it.”
He led her to sit down on the couch before getting out his phone and walking down the hall. Claire let him handle business without any questions, finally just getting her tears under control. Her face felt puffy and her eyes throbbed with her heartbeat. She realized she hadn’t even got to the bombshell part of her news as she held both hands over her abdomen. It was a wonder that Sylar hadn’t noticed.
When Noah returned Claire released a calming breath, mentally preparing for another yelling match. “I was just calling my partner for news. He’s heading back up here now.” Claire nodded blankly becoming more and more nervous. They remained awkwardly silent for a few moments before he cleared his throat. “Come here,” he instructed with wide arms. Numbly she stood and wrapped her own arms tightly around him.
“I am scared, Dad,” she admitted, burying her face into his shirt.
“Everything will be alright, Claire-Bear.” During the hug she heard someone enter the apartment. Presuming it was her dad’s partner she continued the embrace. “Everything will be alright,” he repeated with a little choke in his voice and gripping her tighter.
Claire whipped her head back to find Rene striding up to them, one hand out towards her. Her struggling was useless and all she could do was let out a scream of protest as his hand came in contact with her forehead.
Prelude Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16