fic: i will be better today, i swear. (part two)
i will be better today, i swear.
heroes. pg13. sylar!nathan/claire (implied), peter/claire, sylar/claire.
post season three.
"don't think for a second that nathan was anything but a politician and a puppet. i know things, claire. i understand them, remember? he was a terrible father and you deserve better." rage soared through her head. she craved something sharp and solid to plunge in his neck. and even if it didn't kill him, she knew it would hurt a hell of a lot.
he doesn't know why he does it. maybe for amusement, to toy with the one thing he holds above all else. he's been so close to her over the past months-- not as him but as someone else-- that now he wants to change things. he wants her to see him change, feel the devastation first hand. nathan thought he knew her, thought he understood her complexities, but sylar understands that claire isn't done becoming the person she's meant to be.
it's a benefit of living forever, he thinks, to watch her grow and change. to see that one day, he'll break her and she'll beg him not to leave.
"claire," he greets casually, standing in her door way. "so this is what a college student lives like."
it's nathan's voice, nathan's body and by now he should be used to it, but he was forced into it before-- had no memories except flashes of his own. it feels foreign and awkward. he'd rather be in his own skin, working fear into her heart instead of comfort and hope. he'd rather be taking action instead of just setting it in motion.
"what are you doing here?" she asks, standing to greet him. she hugs him, and idly remarks, "you smell different."
sylar ignores it. "i wanted to see you," he says. "you know you don't have to live here, right? i could put you up anywhere you wanted. the benefits of being a senator's daughter. you wouldn't have to share a bathroom. you could live with me." and his voice trails off, thinking of her naked in a wet, steaming shower-- his shower.
"i like it here," she replies. "it helps me feel... normal, i guess." and she mutters, "if that's even possible."
"you'll never be normal, claire. you'll always be special... better."
he watches her trying to study him, her eyes squinting and lips shutting tight. what he wouldn't give to force them open, his powers ready at his finger tips.
nathan smiles. claire relaxes. "it's late," claire says. "you didn't drive here just to see me, did you?"
"i had other business to attend to," he lies. "your campus just happened to be on the block. listen," he continues, "come to my office tomorrow morning. i have a surprise for you." she looks hesitant, so he adds, "believe me, you won't want to miss this."
--
the thing about peter is that he's always clinging to being the hero. he was always chasing after something, trying to stop the world from some imminent destruction. the world always needed saving from one thing or another, but peter could never quite stop it, no matter how hard he tried. he never gives up, which over time had become more of an annoyance than a respectable character trait. but it also meant that sylar knew he was just dying to confront him, to charge him with nathan's murder and his brother's untimely death.
claire is perched on his desk when sylar arrives, long blonde curls and seemingly nonchalant-- innocence in it's perfection.
he smiles when she asks for her surprise. he can hear the footsteps on the stairs getting closer, the cock of a gun as one of the safeties is pulled and fingers placed ready on the triggers. "shh," he says, holding a finger up to his lips. "they're almost here."
it's just before bennet kicks in the door that sylar frowns, picking up the sound of four heartbeats instead of three. he was counting on the company man and the mother-son duo, but not the haitian.
"it's a little cheap, isn't it?" he yells through the noise of their entrance, inside nathan's body but with a slight mixture of voices. he narrows his gaze and looks around for something sharp, something to use as a weapon to defend himself.
claire jumps and tenses at the sight of the guns her father and peter are holding. she steps in front of nathan to protect him, momentarily forgetting that her healing abilities won't work in front of the haitian. all eyes are on nathan as angela tells her to step away but sylar interjects and says, "i don't think you want to do that, claire." she feels defenseless and confused, too far from the perfect daughter and brave hero she thought she could be.
"nathan," she calls behind her, "what's going on?"
"your family seems to think i have a problem, claire," he answers. hand resting on her back, he moves her closer to his desk, closer to the windows that rise fourteen stories above ground. "but you and i both know they haven't always made the best decisions in the past, don't we?"
"don't listen to him, claire," her father warns.
nathan's hands slowly creep up her spine to the base of her neck. "are you going to trust him?" he asks. sylar knows that if he can't bring bennet down with his powers, the least he can do is manipulate the hell out of his daughter.
"your father abandoned you countless times, and for what? to save the world?" he scoffs and picks up a letter opener that rests on the table. "he's obsessed with power, with containing it. and he'll never stop. not even for you." he addresses the rest of them when he motions to the window, "do you think we'll survive that fall with the haitian in the room?"
"what are you doing?" she asks, softly so only he can hear, teeth clenched and fists clamped tight at her side. she's ready to fight, although unsure of who her opponent will be. sylar brings the sharpened metal against her throat, smiling to himself as she gasps when their bodies are pressed together.
peter doesn't waste time and steps forward, pointing the gun at sylar's head. claire shouts, but he ignores her. "let her go," he warns. "i'll blow your head off."
"you wouldn't dare," sylar replies. "if he's here, claire's powers won't work. one centimeter off and you'll kill your favorite niece."
"nathan, listen to me," angela says carefully from the corner. "you don't have to do this. we can fix you. we can give you all the power you've ever dreamed of."
peter becomes agitated, annoyed. "he's not nathan, mom. he'll never be nathan. you'll never be half the man he was!"
sylar chuckles. "nathan was an insect, easily manipulated and won over by grand convictions of a higher power. he was weak, malleable-- just a stepping stone to something greater."
claire's stomach turns; it wasn't nathan's voice that was behind her.
it only takes a split second-- one moment of doubt and one step to the side before peter takes his shot. it goes straight through nathan's shoulder, shattering the glass of the window behind them. claire falls to her knees, holding on to her neck to stop the minor bleeding where the metal sliced into her skin. it hurts, it hurts, i can feel again-- are the only thoughts running through her mind. but claire can't figure out if what she's feeling is from the wound or from the betrayal standing next to her.
more and more bullets fly into nathan's body, from both peter and her father, and sylar has no defense against them. he falls to the ground, one arm stretched toward her as if to ask for protection, his eyes still open but motionless. nathan's body shifts into sylar's and the air from claire's chest escapes, leaving her dry heaving and empty.
the room is silent. peter stands over the body, his gun still aimed and ready. the only person moving is claire-- the only one surprised by the transformation.
"how? when did this happen?" she demands, rising from the ground. "how long has that bastard been pretending to be my father?"
"it's complicated, dear," angela dismisses. "it's not something we should get into right now." she informs the haitian to leave, saying that they have the equipment they need to control sylar until he's in his cell where he belongs, but claire's head is racing.
"you're going to let him live? why-- so he can break loose and try to kill us all again? i can't let you do that!"
bennet comes to stand beside his daughter, resting an authoritative hand on her shoulder. "it's not up to you, claire-bear. things are... out of our control at the moment. believe me, i want as badly as you do to see this monster dead for good."
"then kill him," she pleads. "end this for once! you'll never be able to control him if you don't."
her words fell on deaf ears. everything, it seemed, was caving in on her. she ignored her father as he tried to console her, glared at a mournful peter who wanted the answers to questions as badly as her. but she couldn't trust any of them. things had finally started to fall together-- life, as it were, was finally starting to make sense. lately, nathan was the only one she had who she felt really understood her, and now it was being revealed that nathan had died months ago, and it was sylar whom she had grown close to instead.
sylar-- the monster who stalked and tortured and stole from her, the person that killed her mother and forced her to choose between her grandmother or father's life-- he had been alive all this time, talking to her, touching her, making her feel safe and loved.
claire walked out of the room. she felt sick, disgusted with the people around her. she was tired of the lies and constant excuses. she'd find her own way to seek revenge, with or without her family's consent.
--
bennet doesn't agree with the situation, thinks his daughter was right when she said they should get rid of him for good. but the company has always worked in a hierarchical manner, and angela was set in her ways.
"are you sure about this?" he repeats himself, pulling on the metal straps that tighten across sylar's arms. a portable IV is surgically placed in his arm beneath his skin. this way, they can control the dose of anesthesia from a remote located outside of his cell.
"it's the only way," she says. "i had a dream last night, after he called. this is what we have to do." she sets the dial to maximum, keeping sylar fully sedated for now.
it's eerie, they way the room looks, so similar to primatech's level five. four concrete walls surround a single hospital bed, the mattress worn and old. sylar lays there, unconscious, strapped down like a patient in an asylum. metal bracelets are fitted to his wrists, threatening to send a powerful electric currant through his body if he attempts to escape by force. it's the only way they can bring him in and out of consciousness while protecting themselves without the haitian present. a video camera observes him from the corner ceiling, no windows surrounding him. the only other object in the room is a single metal chair.
"he won't like this," bennet warns.
angela scoffs. "of course not, noah. who would?"
--
"i want to talk to him," claire demands of her father. "and you owe me this."
she doesn't know what to expect when she walks into the new company headquarters, but it certainly wasn't this. she felt betrayed, knowing that the company owned the equipment and facilities to be able to lock people up like they did before. they said they had changed and yet, they were playing the same game by the same rules. nothing had changed except the lies they told.
claire takes off sylar's restraints and places the chair next to the bed. she sits and waits, knowing that it would take a few minutes before his sedation wore off. his eyelids fluttered, dark lashes beating against pale skin. and then he was awake.
sylar jumped up, spinning and putting his back against the wall, his stance ready for battle. he took a few beats to gain perspective on the situation, but it was painfully obvious that he was trapped. he knew what prison felt like; he had already done time before.
"well well," he starts. "who knew the company would be so sweet as to give me a toy to play with. i should send your grandmother a thank you card."
claire doesn't show any indication of a response, her face stoic and void of any emotion.
sylar didn't like this; he wanted a reaction from her. he knew the cheerleader was head strong and confident, but not stupid. she wouldn't willingly walk into an execution ring. his hands lit blue, balls of electricity surrounding them. "claire-bear," he calls out to her, teasing to provoke.
a painful currant of energy ran through his entire body, straining his muscles and collapsing him onto his knees. he panted, hurting, and stared at her beneath his dark eyes. "what was that?"
"punishment."
he growls, and she shocks him again. this time, he cries out.
--
peter worries about her, leaves voice mails on her phone that she refuses to answer, and she avoids him at every cost. she hasn't talked to anyone about it, even snaps at her father when he tries to coax her out of her shell. there was a part of her that felt that nathan was hers-- not completely, but more than deserving. and it wasn't fair that she was kept in the dark about his death.
wasn't fair that she was forced to coincide her mourning with plans of retribution.
peter finds her at nathan's apartment, her clothes and belongings scattered across the couch. her eyes are red, her makeup non existent, and she's trying her best to ignore him. "claire..."
"go home, peter. you shouldn't be here." she doesn't stop what she's doing, her search for whatever it was consuming her.
"neither should you," he says. "come on, let me take you home."
"not until i've found what i'm looking for," she replies, mostly to herself.
"and that is?"
claire mutters, "answers." peter moves closer, reaches out and puts a hand on her shoulder. she flinches, moving her body away. "he lived here for months, and i watched him! he was completely at ease, knew where everything was, did everything right. he knows things, peter. he had access to confidential files and information that could destroy us. i need to find out what he knows, what his plans are, so i can stop him."
"we did stop him," peter says. "he's locked up. he can't hurt anyone anymore." he shakes his head, the sympathy flowing off him in waves. "you're not looking for paperwork, claire. you're looking for proof. something to show you that sylar knew who he was the entire time, that he manipulated you and fooled everyone. i already talked to mom, she said that's not the case."
"and you trust her?" claire scoffed. "this is sylar we're talking about, peter."
he catches her implication, the fact that they all knew their enemy was stronger and smarter than any one of them. but peter raised his head, trying to look just as strong for claire. "i do. they had matt parkman erase his memories three times. it just wasn't enough. his brain healed too fast. he didn't know who he was until the very end, after you told me you thought he was acting strange. and even then he didn't know who."
she was quiet, focusing on a spot on the carpet. she hated this, hated the questioning of everything. she needed someone to blame, needed a specific moment to focus on. but none of them existed.
"it's not your fault, claire. you didn't know."
for the first time since finding out about her father's death, claire allowed herself to cry. she allowed herself to be held by strong arms that promised to protect her. but like all other things in her life, she knew not to trust it completely. even the most eager and heroic people could betray her one day.
this she knew from experience.
--
the next time she visits, he's almost expecting it. he doesn't show any traces of surprise. he doesn't jump when she wakes him. instead, he stretches, swings his legs over the edge of the bed, invoking the appearance of comfort and ease with his movements. claire waits, but he doesn't greet her.
"you killed nathan." sylar nods. "how?"
he tilts his head, studying her face. he hold back a smile, barely. "slit his throat." his voice is low, dry. he sounds like he's dehydrated and claire allows herself to wonder, briefly, if they're starving him inside his prison.
"why?" she asked.
he chuckles. "i always wanted to fly."
her jaw clenches. her fingertips approach the button that will emit an electrical pulse through his body, enveloping him in a searing pain and incapacitating him. sylar uses his telekinesis to send the remote flying across the room, breaking into wires and plastic bits when it collides with the cement. "what," he asks, "you didn't have enough fun nearly killing me last time?"
"we have more," she says.
"you don't need it." he does the same with the remote she holds that will sedate him. "i already told you before, i don't want to kill you. there'd be no fun in it. and these," he holds up his wrists, the metal bracelets falling like weights down his skin, and he almost sounds defeated, "will keep me locked up here for awhile."
"you're a monster. you deserve to be locked up."
"am i?" he counters. "i mean really, claire. what does that even mean? we're all monsters if you think about it."
"no, you killed nathan!" she yells, breaking her resolve for the first time. her fists clench, her face becomes pained, angry. he can hear her pulse increasing, her heartbeat becoming rapid and the adrenaline pumping through her veins. he enjoyed every second that she got more upset. "you killed my mother, and my father. you stalked me, tortured me--"
sylar held up a hand, silencing her. "nathan would have killed us all given the chance. he was easily manipulated, and believe me, i know. your grandmother did a real number on him, both before and after i was trapped in his body."
"he was changing! he was going to save us, protect me. he was going to fix everything."
"he thought he could," sylar argued, and his calmness agitated claire. she couldn't keep still, her hands nearly shaking at her sides. but here he was, a murderer, a villain, a man who should be climbing up the walls trying to escape, and he was leaning against his bed and talking to her as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
as if they weren't immortal enemies.
"don't think for a second that nathan was anything but a politician and a puppet. i know things, claire. i understand them, remember? he was a terrible father and you deserve better."
rage soared through her head. she craved something sharp and solid to plunge in his neck. and even if it didn't kill him, she knew it would hurt a hell of a lot. "you have no right to lecture me about any of this," she said. "you're psychotic. you kill people for sport. you watched my mother burn--"
"--no, i gave her a choice. she chose death. she was weak, and you know it. we can all control our powers, claire. she was no exception."
claire tries to interject and prove him wrong, but he silences her mouth with his invisible strings. he forces her to slowly walk and sit next to him on the bed. he watches her fight it, her eyes burning full of resentment and hatred. he should be upset by this, but he understands that these things take time. he doesn't touch her, doesn't want to tempt her-- not yet. he knows it's uncomfortably similar to how they were months ago, when he whispered promises of making her his first lady and torturing her with his proximity.
but it was different for him now. and he hoped that soon, he could make it different for her too.
they shared a bond over the summer when he was nathan, and even though sylar wasn't conscious of it at the time, he could still feel those things. he had wanted to protect her, save her, make her proud of him. he had craved it and hated it at the same time when he was nathan, the way just her smile or the bounce of her curls could make him change his mind.
pieces of those memories lingered inside of him now and he took pity on the girl, because he believed she was just like him. immortal, abandoned, betrayed-- they were a match unlike any other. but instead of letting her discover her wickedness on her own, he wanted to push her toward it.
he could wait forever if he had to. but he was an impatient man. he wanted her now.
she didn't know how long he had released his hold on her as he sat there watching her. she jumped off the bed as quickly as she could, headed to the door. hand on the knob, she paused, and promised him softly, "one day i will kill you."
sylar smiled. "i'm sure you'll try."
END PART TWO
continue to part three...
heroes. pg13. sylar!nathan/claire (implied), peter/claire, sylar/claire.
post season three.
"don't think for a second that nathan was anything but a politician and a puppet. i know things, claire. i understand them, remember? he was a terrible father and you deserve better." rage soared through her head. she craved something sharp and solid to plunge in his neck. and even if it didn't kill him, she knew it would hurt a hell of a lot.
he doesn't know why he does it. maybe for amusement, to toy with the one thing he holds above all else. he's been so close to her over the past months-- not as him but as someone else-- that now he wants to change things. he wants her to see him change, feel the devastation first hand. nathan thought he knew her, thought he understood her complexities, but sylar understands that claire isn't done becoming the person she's meant to be.
it's a benefit of living forever, he thinks, to watch her grow and change. to see that one day, he'll break her and she'll beg him not to leave.
"claire," he greets casually, standing in her door way. "so this is what a college student lives like."
it's nathan's voice, nathan's body and by now he should be used to it, but he was forced into it before-- had no memories except flashes of his own. it feels foreign and awkward. he'd rather be in his own skin, working fear into her heart instead of comfort and hope. he'd rather be taking action instead of just setting it in motion.
"what are you doing here?" she asks, standing to greet him. she hugs him, and idly remarks, "you smell different."
sylar ignores it. "i wanted to see you," he says. "you know you don't have to live here, right? i could put you up anywhere you wanted. the benefits of being a senator's daughter. you wouldn't have to share a bathroom. you could live with me." and his voice trails off, thinking of her naked in a wet, steaming shower-- his shower.
"i like it here," she replies. "it helps me feel... normal, i guess." and she mutters, "if that's even possible."
"you'll never be normal, claire. you'll always be special... better."
he watches her trying to study him, her eyes squinting and lips shutting tight. what he wouldn't give to force them open, his powers ready at his finger tips.
nathan smiles. claire relaxes. "it's late," claire says. "you didn't drive here just to see me, did you?"
"i had other business to attend to," he lies. "your campus just happened to be on the block. listen," he continues, "come to my office tomorrow morning. i have a surprise for you." she looks hesitant, so he adds, "believe me, you won't want to miss this."
--
the thing about peter is that he's always clinging to being the hero. he was always chasing after something, trying to stop the world from some imminent destruction. the world always needed saving from one thing or another, but peter could never quite stop it, no matter how hard he tried. he never gives up, which over time had become more of an annoyance than a respectable character trait. but it also meant that sylar knew he was just dying to confront him, to charge him with nathan's murder and his brother's untimely death.
claire is perched on his desk when sylar arrives, long blonde curls and seemingly nonchalant-- innocence in it's perfection.
he smiles when she asks for her surprise. he can hear the footsteps on the stairs getting closer, the cock of a gun as one of the safeties is pulled and fingers placed ready on the triggers. "shh," he says, holding a finger up to his lips. "they're almost here."
it's just before bennet kicks in the door that sylar frowns, picking up the sound of four heartbeats instead of three. he was counting on the company man and the mother-son duo, but not the haitian.
"it's a little cheap, isn't it?" he yells through the noise of their entrance, inside nathan's body but with a slight mixture of voices. he narrows his gaze and looks around for something sharp, something to use as a weapon to defend himself.
claire jumps and tenses at the sight of the guns her father and peter are holding. she steps in front of nathan to protect him, momentarily forgetting that her healing abilities won't work in front of the haitian. all eyes are on nathan as angela tells her to step away but sylar interjects and says, "i don't think you want to do that, claire." she feels defenseless and confused, too far from the perfect daughter and brave hero she thought she could be.
"nathan," she calls behind her, "what's going on?"
"your family seems to think i have a problem, claire," he answers. hand resting on her back, he moves her closer to his desk, closer to the windows that rise fourteen stories above ground. "but you and i both know they haven't always made the best decisions in the past, don't we?"
"don't listen to him, claire," her father warns.
nathan's hands slowly creep up her spine to the base of her neck. "are you going to trust him?" he asks. sylar knows that if he can't bring bennet down with his powers, the least he can do is manipulate the hell out of his daughter.
"your father abandoned you countless times, and for what? to save the world?" he scoffs and picks up a letter opener that rests on the table. "he's obsessed with power, with containing it. and he'll never stop. not even for you." he addresses the rest of them when he motions to the window, "do you think we'll survive that fall with the haitian in the room?"
"what are you doing?" she asks, softly so only he can hear, teeth clenched and fists clamped tight at her side. she's ready to fight, although unsure of who her opponent will be. sylar brings the sharpened metal against her throat, smiling to himself as she gasps when their bodies are pressed together.
peter doesn't waste time and steps forward, pointing the gun at sylar's head. claire shouts, but he ignores her. "let her go," he warns. "i'll blow your head off."
"you wouldn't dare," sylar replies. "if he's here, claire's powers won't work. one centimeter off and you'll kill your favorite niece."
"nathan, listen to me," angela says carefully from the corner. "you don't have to do this. we can fix you. we can give you all the power you've ever dreamed of."
peter becomes agitated, annoyed. "he's not nathan, mom. he'll never be nathan. you'll never be half the man he was!"
sylar chuckles. "nathan was an insect, easily manipulated and won over by grand convictions of a higher power. he was weak, malleable-- just a stepping stone to something greater."
claire's stomach turns; it wasn't nathan's voice that was behind her.
it only takes a split second-- one moment of doubt and one step to the side before peter takes his shot. it goes straight through nathan's shoulder, shattering the glass of the window behind them. claire falls to her knees, holding on to her neck to stop the minor bleeding where the metal sliced into her skin. it hurts, it hurts, i can feel again-- are the only thoughts running through her mind. but claire can't figure out if what she's feeling is from the wound or from the betrayal standing next to her.
more and more bullets fly into nathan's body, from both peter and her father, and sylar has no defense against them. he falls to the ground, one arm stretched toward her as if to ask for protection, his eyes still open but motionless. nathan's body shifts into sylar's and the air from claire's chest escapes, leaving her dry heaving and empty.
the room is silent. peter stands over the body, his gun still aimed and ready. the only person moving is claire-- the only one surprised by the transformation.
"how? when did this happen?" she demands, rising from the ground. "how long has that bastard been pretending to be my father?"
"it's complicated, dear," angela dismisses. "it's not something we should get into right now." she informs the haitian to leave, saying that they have the equipment they need to control sylar until he's in his cell where he belongs, but claire's head is racing.
"you're going to let him live? why-- so he can break loose and try to kill us all again? i can't let you do that!"
bennet comes to stand beside his daughter, resting an authoritative hand on her shoulder. "it's not up to you, claire-bear. things are... out of our control at the moment. believe me, i want as badly as you do to see this monster dead for good."
"then kill him," she pleads. "end this for once! you'll never be able to control him if you don't."
her words fell on deaf ears. everything, it seemed, was caving in on her. she ignored her father as he tried to console her, glared at a mournful peter who wanted the answers to questions as badly as her. but she couldn't trust any of them. things had finally started to fall together-- life, as it were, was finally starting to make sense. lately, nathan was the only one she had who she felt really understood her, and now it was being revealed that nathan had died months ago, and it was sylar whom she had grown close to instead.
sylar-- the monster who stalked and tortured and stole from her, the person that killed her mother and forced her to choose between her grandmother or father's life-- he had been alive all this time, talking to her, touching her, making her feel safe and loved.
claire walked out of the room. she felt sick, disgusted with the people around her. she was tired of the lies and constant excuses. she'd find her own way to seek revenge, with or without her family's consent.
--
bennet doesn't agree with the situation, thinks his daughter was right when she said they should get rid of him for good. but the company has always worked in a hierarchical manner, and angela was set in her ways.
"are you sure about this?" he repeats himself, pulling on the metal straps that tighten across sylar's arms. a portable IV is surgically placed in his arm beneath his skin. this way, they can control the dose of anesthesia from a remote located outside of his cell.
"it's the only way," she says. "i had a dream last night, after he called. this is what we have to do." she sets the dial to maximum, keeping sylar fully sedated for now.
it's eerie, they way the room looks, so similar to primatech's level five. four concrete walls surround a single hospital bed, the mattress worn and old. sylar lays there, unconscious, strapped down like a patient in an asylum. metal bracelets are fitted to his wrists, threatening to send a powerful electric currant through his body if he attempts to escape by force. it's the only way they can bring him in and out of consciousness while protecting themselves without the haitian present. a video camera observes him from the corner ceiling, no windows surrounding him. the only other object in the room is a single metal chair.
"he won't like this," bennet warns.
angela scoffs. "of course not, noah. who would?"
--
"i want to talk to him," claire demands of her father. "and you owe me this."
she doesn't know what to expect when she walks into the new company headquarters, but it certainly wasn't this. she felt betrayed, knowing that the company owned the equipment and facilities to be able to lock people up like they did before. they said they had changed and yet, they were playing the same game by the same rules. nothing had changed except the lies they told.
claire takes off sylar's restraints and places the chair next to the bed. she sits and waits, knowing that it would take a few minutes before his sedation wore off. his eyelids fluttered, dark lashes beating against pale skin. and then he was awake.
sylar jumped up, spinning and putting his back against the wall, his stance ready for battle. he took a few beats to gain perspective on the situation, but it was painfully obvious that he was trapped. he knew what prison felt like; he had already done time before.
"well well," he starts. "who knew the company would be so sweet as to give me a toy to play with. i should send your grandmother a thank you card."
claire doesn't show any indication of a response, her face stoic and void of any emotion.
sylar didn't like this; he wanted a reaction from her. he knew the cheerleader was head strong and confident, but not stupid. she wouldn't willingly walk into an execution ring. his hands lit blue, balls of electricity surrounding them. "claire-bear," he calls out to her, teasing to provoke.
a painful currant of energy ran through his entire body, straining his muscles and collapsing him onto his knees. he panted, hurting, and stared at her beneath his dark eyes. "what was that?"
"punishment."
he growls, and she shocks him again. this time, he cries out.
--
peter worries about her, leaves voice mails on her phone that she refuses to answer, and she avoids him at every cost. she hasn't talked to anyone about it, even snaps at her father when he tries to coax her out of her shell. there was a part of her that felt that nathan was hers-- not completely, but more than deserving. and it wasn't fair that she was kept in the dark about his death.
wasn't fair that she was forced to coincide her mourning with plans of retribution.
peter finds her at nathan's apartment, her clothes and belongings scattered across the couch. her eyes are red, her makeup non existent, and she's trying her best to ignore him. "claire..."
"go home, peter. you shouldn't be here." she doesn't stop what she's doing, her search for whatever it was consuming her.
"neither should you," he says. "come on, let me take you home."
"not until i've found what i'm looking for," she replies, mostly to herself.
"and that is?"
claire mutters, "answers." peter moves closer, reaches out and puts a hand on her shoulder. she flinches, moving her body away. "he lived here for months, and i watched him! he was completely at ease, knew where everything was, did everything right. he knows things, peter. he had access to confidential files and information that could destroy us. i need to find out what he knows, what his plans are, so i can stop him."
"we did stop him," peter says. "he's locked up. he can't hurt anyone anymore." he shakes his head, the sympathy flowing off him in waves. "you're not looking for paperwork, claire. you're looking for proof. something to show you that sylar knew who he was the entire time, that he manipulated you and fooled everyone. i already talked to mom, she said that's not the case."
"and you trust her?" claire scoffed. "this is sylar we're talking about, peter."
he catches her implication, the fact that they all knew their enemy was stronger and smarter than any one of them. but peter raised his head, trying to look just as strong for claire. "i do. they had matt parkman erase his memories three times. it just wasn't enough. his brain healed too fast. he didn't know who he was until the very end, after you told me you thought he was acting strange. and even then he didn't know who."
she was quiet, focusing on a spot on the carpet. she hated this, hated the questioning of everything. she needed someone to blame, needed a specific moment to focus on. but none of them existed.
"it's not your fault, claire. you didn't know."
for the first time since finding out about her father's death, claire allowed herself to cry. she allowed herself to be held by strong arms that promised to protect her. but like all other things in her life, she knew not to trust it completely. even the most eager and heroic people could betray her one day.
this she knew from experience.
--
the next time she visits, he's almost expecting it. he doesn't show any traces of surprise. he doesn't jump when she wakes him. instead, he stretches, swings his legs over the edge of the bed, invoking the appearance of comfort and ease with his movements. claire waits, but he doesn't greet her.
"you killed nathan." sylar nods. "how?"
he tilts his head, studying her face. he hold back a smile, barely. "slit his throat." his voice is low, dry. he sounds like he's dehydrated and claire allows herself to wonder, briefly, if they're starving him inside his prison.
"why?" she asked.
he chuckles. "i always wanted to fly."
her jaw clenches. her fingertips approach the button that will emit an electrical pulse through his body, enveloping him in a searing pain and incapacitating him. sylar uses his telekinesis to send the remote flying across the room, breaking into wires and plastic bits when it collides with the cement. "what," he asks, "you didn't have enough fun nearly killing me last time?"
"we have more," she says.
"you don't need it." he does the same with the remote she holds that will sedate him. "i already told you before, i don't want to kill you. there'd be no fun in it. and these," he holds up his wrists, the metal bracelets falling like weights down his skin, and he almost sounds defeated, "will keep me locked up here for awhile."
"you're a monster. you deserve to be locked up."
"am i?" he counters. "i mean really, claire. what does that even mean? we're all monsters if you think about it."
"no, you killed nathan!" she yells, breaking her resolve for the first time. her fists clench, her face becomes pained, angry. he can hear her pulse increasing, her heartbeat becoming rapid and the adrenaline pumping through her veins. he enjoyed every second that she got more upset. "you killed my mother, and my father. you stalked me, tortured me--"
sylar held up a hand, silencing her. "nathan would have killed us all given the chance. he was easily manipulated, and believe me, i know. your grandmother did a real number on him, both before and after i was trapped in his body."
"he was changing! he was going to save us, protect me. he was going to fix everything."
"he thought he could," sylar argued, and his calmness agitated claire. she couldn't keep still, her hands nearly shaking at her sides. but here he was, a murderer, a villain, a man who should be climbing up the walls trying to escape, and he was leaning against his bed and talking to her as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
as if they weren't immortal enemies.
"don't think for a second that nathan was anything but a politician and a puppet. i know things, claire. i understand them, remember? he was a terrible father and you deserve better."
rage soared through her head. she craved something sharp and solid to plunge in his neck. and even if it didn't kill him, she knew it would hurt a hell of a lot. "you have no right to lecture me about any of this," she said. "you're psychotic. you kill people for sport. you watched my mother burn--"
"--no, i gave her a choice. she chose death. she was weak, and you know it. we can all control our powers, claire. she was no exception."
claire tries to interject and prove him wrong, but he silences her mouth with his invisible strings. he forces her to slowly walk and sit next to him on the bed. he watches her fight it, her eyes burning full of resentment and hatred. he should be upset by this, but he understands that these things take time. he doesn't touch her, doesn't want to tempt her-- not yet. he knows it's uncomfortably similar to how they were months ago, when he whispered promises of making her his first lady and torturing her with his proximity.
but it was different for him now. and he hoped that soon, he could make it different for her too.
they shared a bond over the summer when he was nathan, and even though sylar wasn't conscious of it at the time, he could still feel those things. he had wanted to protect her, save her, make her proud of him. he had craved it and hated it at the same time when he was nathan, the way just her smile or the bounce of her curls could make him change his mind.
pieces of those memories lingered inside of him now and he took pity on the girl, because he believed she was just like him. immortal, abandoned, betrayed-- they were a match unlike any other. but instead of letting her discover her wickedness on her own, he wanted to push her toward it.
he could wait forever if he had to. but he was an impatient man. he wanted her now.
she didn't know how long he had released his hold on her as he sat there watching her. she jumped off the bed as quickly as she could, headed to the door. hand on the knob, she paused, and promised him softly, "one day i will kill you."
sylar smiled. "i'm sure you'll try."
END PART TWO
continue to part three...