I Will Possess Your Heart 4/10
Title: I Will Possess Your Heart 4/10
Author: yaoi_anti_drug
Beta: ladywilde80
Pairings: Sylar/Mohinder, eventual Elle/Claire
Genre: Drama, Angst
Characters: Sylar, Mohinder, Elle, Claire, and a few OCs
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Claire is left to tend to The Company on her own, Sylar and Mohinder travel together for an assignment
Word Count: about 3,650
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Violence and molestation
Notes: Thank you so much ladywilde80, Matt, and Chris for helping me out! Constructive criticism is always loved and comments, even if it’s to say you hate it, are always appreciated too. Title from "I Will Possess Your Heart" by Death Cab For Cutie.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything, if I did, well...this season wouldn't suck so much and Adam definitely wouldn't be yet another wasted character.
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
I Will Possess Your Heart 4/10:
“Are you fucking kidding me?! Evacuate everyone. Now!” Claire's eyes widened, “ He's got what?!”
Claire snapped the phone shut promptly, fury rising within her, causing her grip to shake. She stalked towards the door, muttering “If you want something done, you have to do it yourself” accompanied by a “God, I wish Sylar was here...”
There was a man loose on the grounds; a patient of whom some idiot had said the wrong thing to. And now that someone was convulsing on the floor as she drowned in an invisible fog of poison.
Elle observed the terrible death of Dr. Whoever-The-Fuck-She-Was through the camera, image reflected back in stark black and white. Her breath hitched in her throat.
Logical thinking lost on her, she was up and running down the hall. She had to stop the man before he killed anyone else. What if he got to her father?
Claire proceeded with her mission. The objective was to to tranquilize the enemy and only after he was silenced should she even consider permanently taking him out. After all, they couldn't study the internal workings of the man without a pulse. She ran the process on constant repeat through her mind, trying to soothe her throbbing heart.
The stairs went by in a volley; soon she was on the second floor. She passed by the scattering lower level workers, ignoring their existence.
When she finally arrived on the scene, she found Elle already there. It was so like her to try and fix such an immense disaster alone.
They both stared in awe at the man whose forearm was around a woman's throat, brunette hair array and face turning a blotchy scarlet. But it wasn't the constant pressure on her pharynx that was doing the damage. Two streaks of blood leaked out from her mouth, a reaction from the lethal poisons the man secreted through his pores.
“Elle, get out of here!” Claire shouted.
Elle had a ball of lightning in her hands when she glanced back at Claire, apparently surprised to see her. Elle looked utterly dreadful. Her face was sullen, eyes sunk and ringed with purple, and it was obvious by the jerking movement of her chest that she was having difficulty breathing.
Claire stepped forward, throat closing at the sudden influx of toxins. She was comforted by the knowledge that however painful, she would live through this, but Elle...Claire's lips set in a frown. Now that she had laid eyes on the situation herself, she only had one thing on her mind: Protecting her employees.
But Elle was just as stubborn as she was. It was no shock to Claire when she disregarded her command and feebly attempted to send her deadly electricity towards their escaped captive. Naturally, it missed by a mile and struck a nearby wall. She was simply too exhausted to target accurately.
Claire grabbed Elle's shoulder and tugged her back in order to stop her from trying anything else. She raised her gun, brain on cruise control as she aimed, threatening to shoot while she had a clear shot.
The man barely blinked, quite stunned that his poison was not crippling her as it had the others. Elle had already fallen lax in Claire's grip. She didn't waste anymore time, she couldn't. Her slender finger pressed down on the trigger, heart pounding, but not in fear. Fear had no place in her heart; not anymore.
The man went down, the girl in his arms descending with him. He wasn't getting up, but the toxins had yet to cease. It seemed his body didn't require being alive to be poisonous. He was a mass of noxious venom whether dead or alive, and they needed professionals to deal with this.
Elle had begun to bleed much like the hostage and Claire could already feel undoubtedly ruby-red liquid leaking from welts and scraps inside her own throat. Ignoring the yet another indicator of malady, she grabbed her injured employee from the dead man's arms.
She had to move both Elle and this girl, whom she recognized now as the new physician's assistant, out of harms way.
Claire felt her eyes begin to water from the overwhelming fumes. She brought out her cell, “Get clean up down here. Police, someone licensed to deal with poison...” Her voice was becoming hoarse.
A reply came quick, “But, they'll discover...”
They'd lost the Haitian along with her father. If he was here, things would be so much easier. She shook her head, “Doesn't matter. Get someone on the clean up.” Her throat was so dry. An overwhelming tang of blood engulfed her mouth. “And I need the medics...”
Vision swirling, hands weak, she began to lose her grip on her phone. She heard the voice on the line trying to say something else, but she couldn't answer. She dropped it, concentrating on dragging Elle and the assistant out of there even as her head hammered with sickness and fever.
There was a noise, a flutter of footsteps, yelling. That would be the medics now... And then she let go and collapsed, assured they were safe.
------------------------
Mohinder took the two keys from the girl's hands, longing to force her to swallow the obscenely loud sounding gum she was chomping on.
“Thank you...” Although he attempted to remain polite, Mohinder's lip twitched as she obnoxiously popped a huge, pink and blue bubble she'd been working on.
He practically slammed the door behind him as he left the small room that served as a shabby motel lobby. He was already stressed enough. The meeting with Francis Jacobs had not gone as intended. He'd been a hyper-sensitive empath, and not like Peter had been where he gained powers, but where he could sense emotions and feel the events of someone's past.
Of course, when the man laid eyes on Sylar, he immediately pulled a shotgun on them, or, more so, on Mohinder. And if it hadn't been for Sylar.... He hated owing that man something as important as his life, but owe him he did.
Had Claire known Mr. Jacobs' power and merely sent them on this assignment for fun? He wouldn't put it past her to be so conniving simply for a chuckle nowadays.
He handed one of the keys to Sylar, who was leaning against the car, memories of his trip with Zane Taylor flashing through his mind. All that was different was the temperature and the absence of an innocents' mask on Sylar's cruel face.
Sylar glanced down at the keys, lips twisting into a mocking pout. “Two keys?”
Mohinder glared at him, not saying anything, but obviously willing him not to say another damn word. He took his bag out of the trunk and walked past Sylar without a sound. While he was unlocking the door, Sylar snuck up behind him, fingers tracing a line on the back of his exposed neck.
Mohinder ceased his attempts at getting into his room. Instead, he spun around to face Sylar with a defiant glimmer in his eyes. “What do you want now?”
“I just saved your life, Mohinder...Doesn't that-”
“Don't remind me. And no, it doesn't mean I owe you anything.”
“You know that's a lie.” Sylar smirked. Judging by the vexed expression that took over Mohinder's face, he knew full well that he owed a murderer his life.
But still... not that.
Mohinder turned his attention back to the door knob, but Sylar wasn't finished with him. He flipped him around, hand on his shoulders and crushed him up against the door, uncaring as the knob dented into Mohinder's back, forcing the scientist to curve his hips right into Sylar's own.
Sylar kissed him then, right out in full view of the public, cherishing once more the way Mohinder's lips fit his, the heat vibrating directly from his body to saturate into the other. As usual, Sylar was denied the pleasure of having it returned; rather, he was pushed away.
“Out here? Are you mad?!”
Sylar grinned, “So, inside the room, it'll be fine?”
Mohinder gave an exasperated sigh, clearly fed up with Sylar's antics but not knowing what else to do since he'd said it all before. Sylar leaned in close again, lips up against Mohinder's throat as he sucked at his Adam's apple and licked at the gooseflesh the contact left behind.
Sylar let his telekinetic fingers roam Mohinder's skin, going where his real hands could not travel due to the multi-colored cotton. He could feel the hitch in Mohinder's breath, the shiver of his sweet body's reaction to his touch.
“You want this.”
“There's a thing called restraint, Sylar.”
Sylar smiled, “What's that?”
“Cute, real cute. Now, get off.” Mohinder's voice was strained, like he was on the verge of either severely hurting Sylar or melting into his arms. Sylar pushed for the latter. He trailed his lips up Mohinder's throat, pressing him back into the wall, this time being nice and making sure the knob was no where near his spine.
“No. Let me go,” Mohinder groaned. Sylar smiled, pleased he didn't sound so certain.
Mohinder's hands went to Sylar's chest. Sylar's constant invisible ministrations was an excellent assault against Mohinder's already fragile guard. He knew that without the enticement, it would be easy to refuse Sylar, but with temptation it was an entirely different matter altogether.
The truth was that Mohinder had loved Zane, that damned fake persona. He couldn't escape that fact. But Sylar, he was the man who had killed his father and many of his friends, had threatened his family... He hated him. Nevertheless, there was this underlying attraction between them, openly accepted by Sylar while Mohinder sustained a feeble resistance.
And spending time with the man, both of them being alone on a daily basis, it was becoming more and more challenging to ignore it. Yet, Mohinder persisted his commendable denial, and no mater how seductive Sylar could be, he would continue to elude the killer as long as possible.
“Don't.” Unlike before, Mohinder's voice didn't waver.
To further support his conviction, he pulled all the stops. He took a step forward as he shoved Sylar back, bringing his arm back and swinging.
Taking advantage of the opportunity, Mohinder quickly unlocked the door before Sylar could get his wits about him, stepping inside. Before he shut it, he caught Sylar's disappointed and aggravated eyes, “Don't try that again.”
“Dammit,” was all Sylar could utter as the door was slammed in his face, fingers on the forming bruise that would vanish within seconds. He thought about simply knocking the door down, but he holed himself up in his motel room instead.
Forcing Mohinder like this just wasn't working, and Sylar wasn't sure he wanted it to be like that anyways. It wasn't nearly as rewarding as Mohinder giving into him without any persuasion. That was what he really wanted. All of Mohinder; his heart and soul. After all, he was the only one who was worthy.
Sylar felt so stupid, longing for a 'mate' like he was, but it was ingrained in every beings DNA and his was no excuse; it'd just taken a while to surface. Indeed, even with all of his bursts of violence, he didn't really want to hurt Mohinder, nor did he really want to see that anger in his eyes. It may have been thrilling at first, but now it was simply getting old.
------------------------
When Claire woke up, she swore she was trapped in yet another dream because Elle Bishop was sitting next to her bed, actually looking worried. But once she saw Claire's eyes flutter open, that worry changed to anger in an instant.
“Why did you do that! Taking both of us out of there? You should have known we couldn't die, they would just use your blood to revive us. We don't need you incapacitated, even for a few hours!”
Claire couldn't help but smile, “So now I'm important?”
Elle scowled, “You're important to the Company.”
“Not to you? In the least bit? Keep in mind I did save your life.”
Elle crossed her arms, an insolent expression crossing her face, “Yeah, well, as I said before, if I died they would have used your blood. So, only your blood is.” Biting her lip, she speedily changed the subject. “Why did you even bother?”
Claire sighed, running her fingers through her hair before resting her hand on her stomach; she was hungry and talking to Elle was exhausting enough when one wasn't starving.
“I guess old habits die hard.”
Claire could not have very well let them die just because she could use her blood to bring them back. Instincts had kicked in and she'd done what was necessary to keep Elle and the physician's assistant from being zombies minus the rotting flesh and brain eating. That had happened to included murder.
Although Sylar had been the one to commit the actual act before, it wasn't like she was unaccustomed to blood on her hands.
Elle leaned back in her chair, arms crossed tighter now. She watched Claire, eyes hard, “You've got to do something about that Hero Complex, Claire.”
Claire grinned, “So, you waited by my side until I was awake to tell me that I don't mean anything to you and that I have a Hero Complex... Are you done yet?”
Elle's eyes widened, a bit shocked, but she composed herself quickly. She proceeded to stare at Claire like it'd make her day if she could only toast her a bit. “Yeah, done.”
She stood up and walked out of the room, not even taking the time to catch a last glimpse of Claire reclining in her pallid hospital bed.
Claire snorted to herself, “A thank you would have sufficed...” But that was probably her way of showing gratitude. As fucked up as it was, she'd still stayed by her bedside until she regained consciousness and had scolded her as if she had been concerned.
Claire beamed, she was the first person to get a thank you from Elle... In one way or another.
------------------------
Claire was up and running long before Mohinder and Sylar returned. The first thing that Mohinder did, as expected, was march straight to Claire's office and yell at her as if she wasn't his boss.
Claire merely sat lazily in her chair and let him have at it, tuning in every once in a while. It had not gone well, apparently. They would have to send someone else to retrieve Francis Jacobs, but that hadn't been one of Claire's top priorities anyways. The trip had meant to bring Mohinder and Sylar closer, but it appeared as though Mohinder had not given into Sylar's charm as she'd hoped he would.
Her plan had been thus: Jacobs would have known their past, certainly Sylar's, and attack, probably going for the weakest individual. In response, Sylar would have to defend Mohinder, and hence the kickoff of a semblance of an improved relationship. Too bad it'd done the opposite.
Well, she'd tried. Didn't that give her some points? 20, perhaps?
Sylar was going to be pissed. And he was. Not five minutes after she sent Mohinder out to calm down was Sylar there to complain.
“He is so stubborn!” and “Can't you threaten him a bit? I'm sick of doing it!” All he did was bitch, bitch, and bitch some more.
Frankly, Claire was weary of it, but a happy Sylar was a happy Claire and, consequently, a successful Company so it was not like she could just up and end all of her efforts.
Neither had even taken the time to ask how things had been at the Company since they'd gone. Selfish bastards.
Claire managed her annoyance by getting rid of Sylar's presence. She assured him that she would continue finding ways to put the two together and that he just had to be patient. Honestly, Claire had already thought of a way. Granted, it was risky, but it was about the only option she had left.
Determined, she called for Elle.
------------------------
“I am going to be blunt with you. Sylar needs to get laid. By Mohinder. Do you have any suggestions about how this should be accomplished?”
Quite clearly, this was not what Elle had expected to have a conversation about. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. I know it sounds ridiculous, but..”
“No, no, actually it doesn't. Not really. I mean, it's obvious those two are totally crazy for each other, although not in a very orthodox manner...” Elle gazed down at her crossed hands, a frown line creasing the brow of her pretty face, “I understand Mohinder's reasons for saying no, but it's about time to move on. Every relationship has its obstacles, theirs is just a tad more difficult.”
Claire was a bit surprised herself. For Elle to somewhat go along with it and not completely toss it aside and patronize her for even suggesting it was a feat within itself. Elle's features turned pensive, giving Claire the opportunity to add her own thoughts.
“Exactly, we need to find a way to get the two of them past all that. Uh, I was thinking of finding someone with the ability over pheromones...”
Elle laughed, a smile replacing her scowl, “I don't think we have to do something quite so drastic.”
Claire's eyes narrowed pleasantly, “Then what exactly do you have in mind?”
“I don't know yet, give me a little while. I'll work on Mohinder, I know him better than anybody else around here, which is why I'm guessing you decided to ask me for help.” And Elle was all too proud of that fact. Claire was asking her for help.
“All I have to do is utilize my amazing manipulative talents, “ She was smirking as she said this, obviously finding it quite humorous that she could use the skills that had got her branded as a sociopath to aid The Company's best interests; as well as for Mohinder's benefit. “Sylar is already getting hot and heavy...”
“Yep. It's all up to you, sparky.”
Elle quickly closed back up, becoming quite disgruntled at the so freely given nickname. Claire hastily diagnosed the problem, “Oh crap, I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by it.”
But it was too late to take it back now. The tiny window that Elle had opened was slammed shut and locked.
Tension once more coated the air, silence adding to the thick mist. Claire cleared her throat, eyes lowered before trying to catch Elle's to no avail. Elle continued as though nothing out of the norm had just occurred, “Alright then...I'll get to work now.”
She stood up, hand on the door when Claire tried to stop her from walking away. “No, wait, Elle. Stay here. I'd like to talk to you, business aside.”
Elle didn't turn, she just bowed her head, leaning against the door. “What is it?”
Claire stood up, walking around her desk in order to get nearer to the girl. Elle sensed her closing the gap between them and twisted around to face her, the expression on her face visibly telling Claire to stay where she was, so she did.
“I want us to be able to work together, not just because I am your boss, but because you want to.”
Elle cocked her head, “I thought you said business aside.”
A small smile tugged at Claire's lips, and she ended it right when she felt it. “Fine, so it's a fusion of business and something more personal. Just listen to me, alright? Don't block me out.”
Elle glared at her and Claire knew what Elle must be thinking.
”Why should I listen to you? What could you possibly have to say that's worth my precious time?”
“I've realized that how much I hated you was unfair. I didn't even know you and now that I've had time to think since working here, I understand your motives. Why you did what you did. It was necessary.”
Elle preserved her blank look, but she was definitely paying attention. Claire could see that from the distinct, intrigued glimmer in her gray eyes.
“And so, I want you to know that I no longer harbor any ill will towards you. We have a clean slate, so to speak...if you're willing to give me one as well. I mean, you've got to admit...I've done this place well.”
“Oh, you mean besides the psychotic poisonous guy, right?”
Claire smirked, “Smart ass.”
“You know it.” And there Elle was, opening up again. Even she didn't know why she kept doing that. She'd only ever done it to two people before. Peter and Mohinder. One was dead, the other was in love with a madman. What was so different about Claire?
Maybe it was that envy kicking in again. Her own personalized requirement of keeping up the appearance that on some levels, Elle Bishop was in fact better than Claire Bennet.
Eventually, Elle was giving her a true grin, one that did not lie like she herself often did, “Alright, Claire. I'll give you another chance. Just don't go prancing around like you're superior to everyone else or the deal is off.”
“But, I am. The boss, remember?” A carefree smile trailed Claire's words.
The light sarcasm reminded Elle of the teenager Claire should have been. She maintained the smile before nodding and disappearing, for once leaving on good terms.
That was a first, but hopefully not the last. Claire wasn't joking when she said that she wanted her and Elle to be...oh god, thinking it made it seem so damned juvenile, but it was the truth. Friends. Hadn't they earned it, after everything they had been through?
Half of the ordeals that Elle had been through she wasn't even aware of yet. But, if Claire had anything to do with it, that would all change soon enough. It was simple. She had to get her to trust her before she'd be able to tell Elle all of what her father had done. But not to spite her, solely so she knew the truth and didn't hold her father up on such a high pedestal any longer.
Author: yaoi_anti_drug
Beta: ladywilde80
Pairings: Sylar/Mohinder, eventual Elle/Claire
Genre: Drama, Angst
Characters: Sylar, Mohinder, Elle, Claire, and a few OCs
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Claire is left to tend to The Company on her own, Sylar and Mohinder travel together for an assignment
Word Count: about 3,650
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Violence and molestation
Notes: Thank you so much ladywilde80, Matt, and Chris for helping me out! Constructive criticism is always loved and comments, even if it’s to say you hate it, are always appreciated too. Title from "I Will Possess Your Heart" by Death Cab For Cutie.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything, if I did, well...this season wouldn't suck so much and Adam definitely wouldn't be yet another wasted character.
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
I Will Possess Your Heart 4/10:
“Are you fucking kidding me?! Evacuate everyone. Now!” Claire's eyes widened, “ He's got what?!”
Claire snapped the phone shut promptly, fury rising within her, causing her grip to shake. She stalked towards the door, muttering “If you want something done, you have to do it yourself” accompanied by a “God, I wish Sylar was here...”
There was a man loose on the grounds; a patient of whom some idiot had said the wrong thing to. And now that someone was convulsing on the floor as she drowned in an invisible fog of poison.
Elle observed the terrible death of Dr. Whoever-The-Fuck-She-Was through the camera, image reflected back in stark black and white. Her breath hitched in her throat.
Logical thinking lost on her, she was up and running down the hall. She had to stop the man before he killed anyone else. What if he got to her father?
Claire proceeded with her mission. The objective was to to tranquilize the enemy and only after he was silenced should she even consider permanently taking him out. After all, they couldn't study the internal workings of the man without a pulse. She ran the process on constant repeat through her mind, trying to soothe her throbbing heart.
The stairs went by in a volley; soon she was on the second floor. She passed by the scattering lower level workers, ignoring their existence.
When she finally arrived on the scene, she found Elle already there. It was so like her to try and fix such an immense disaster alone.
They both stared in awe at the man whose forearm was around a woman's throat, brunette hair array and face turning a blotchy scarlet. But it wasn't the constant pressure on her pharynx that was doing the damage. Two streaks of blood leaked out from her mouth, a reaction from the lethal poisons the man secreted through his pores.
“Elle, get out of here!” Claire shouted.
Elle had a ball of lightning in her hands when she glanced back at Claire, apparently surprised to see her. Elle looked utterly dreadful. Her face was sullen, eyes sunk and ringed with purple, and it was obvious by the jerking movement of her chest that she was having difficulty breathing.
Claire stepped forward, throat closing at the sudden influx of toxins. She was comforted by the knowledge that however painful, she would live through this, but Elle...Claire's lips set in a frown. Now that she had laid eyes on the situation herself, she only had one thing on her mind: Protecting her employees.
But Elle was just as stubborn as she was. It was no shock to Claire when she disregarded her command and feebly attempted to send her deadly electricity towards their escaped captive. Naturally, it missed by a mile and struck a nearby wall. She was simply too exhausted to target accurately.
Claire grabbed Elle's shoulder and tugged her back in order to stop her from trying anything else. She raised her gun, brain on cruise control as she aimed, threatening to shoot while she had a clear shot.
The man barely blinked, quite stunned that his poison was not crippling her as it had the others. Elle had already fallen lax in Claire's grip. She didn't waste anymore time, she couldn't. Her slender finger pressed down on the trigger, heart pounding, but not in fear. Fear had no place in her heart; not anymore.
The man went down, the girl in his arms descending with him. He wasn't getting up, but the toxins had yet to cease. It seemed his body didn't require being alive to be poisonous. He was a mass of noxious venom whether dead or alive, and they needed professionals to deal with this.
Elle had begun to bleed much like the hostage and Claire could already feel undoubtedly ruby-red liquid leaking from welts and scraps inside her own throat. Ignoring the yet another indicator of malady, she grabbed her injured employee from the dead man's arms.
She had to move both Elle and this girl, whom she recognized now as the new physician's assistant, out of harms way.
Claire felt her eyes begin to water from the overwhelming fumes. She brought out her cell, “Get clean up down here. Police, someone licensed to deal with poison...” Her voice was becoming hoarse.
A reply came quick, “But, they'll discover...”
They'd lost the Haitian along with her father. If he was here, things would be so much easier. She shook her head, “Doesn't matter. Get someone on the clean up.” Her throat was so dry. An overwhelming tang of blood engulfed her mouth. “And I need the medics...”
Vision swirling, hands weak, she began to lose her grip on her phone. She heard the voice on the line trying to say something else, but she couldn't answer. She dropped it, concentrating on dragging Elle and the assistant out of there even as her head hammered with sickness and fever.
There was a noise, a flutter of footsteps, yelling. That would be the medics now... And then she let go and collapsed, assured they were safe.
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Mohinder took the two keys from the girl's hands, longing to force her to swallow the obscenely loud sounding gum she was chomping on.
“Thank you...” Although he attempted to remain polite, Mohinder's lip twitched as she obnoxiously popped a huge, pink and blue bubble she'd been working on.
He practically slammed the door behind him as he left the small room that served as a shabby motel lobby. He was already stressed enough. The meeting with Francis Jacobs had not gone as intended. He'd been a hyper-sensitive empath, and not like Peter had been where he gained powers, but where he could sense emotions and feel the events of someone's past.
Of course, when the man laid eyes on Sylar, he immediately pulled a shotgun on them, or, more so, on Mohinder. And if it hadn't been for Sylar.... He hated owing that man something as important as his life, but owe him he did.
Had Claire known Mr. Jacobs' power and merely sent them on this assignment for fun? He wouldn't put it past her to be so conniving simply for a chuckle nowadays.
He handed one of the keys to Sylar, who was leaning against the car, memories of his trip with Zane Taylor flashing through his mind. All that was different was the temperature and the absence of an innocents' mask on Sylar's cruel face.
Sylar glanced down at the keys, lips twisting into a mocking pout. “Two keys?”
Mohinder glared at him, not saying anything, but obviously willing him not to say another damn word. He took his bag out of the trunk and walked past Sylar without a sound. While he was unlocking the door, Sylar snuck up behind him, fingers tracing a line on the back of his exposed neck.
Mohinder ceased his attempts at getting into his room. Instead, he spun around to face Sylar with a defiant glimmer in his eyes. “What do you want now?”
“I just saved your life, Mohinder...Doesn't that-”
“Don't remind me. And no, it doesn't mean I owe you anything.”
“You know that's a lie.” Sylar smirked. Judging by the vexed expression that took over Mohinder's face, he knew full well that he owed a murderer his life.
But still... not that.
Mohinder turned his attention back to the door knob, but Sylar wasn't finished with him. He flipped him around, hand on his shoulders and crushed him up against the door, uncaring as the knob dented into Mohinder's back, forcing the scientist to curve his hips right into Sylar's own.
Sylar kissed him then, right out in full view of the public, cherishing once more the way Mohinder's lips fit his, the heat vibrating directly from his body to saturate into the other. As usual, Sylar was denied the pleasure of having it returned; rather, he was pushed away.
“Out here? Are you mad?!”
Sylar grinned, “So, inside the room, it'll be fine?”
Mohinder gave an exasperated sigh, clearly fed up with Sylar's antics but not knowing what else to do since he'd said it all before. Sylar leaned in close again, lips up against Mohinder's throat as he sucked at his Adam's apple and licked at the gooseflesh the contact left behind.
Sylar let his telekinetic fingers roam Mohinder's skin, going where his real hands could not travel due to the multi-colored cotton. He could feel the hitch in Mohinder's breath, the shiver of his sweet body's reaction to his touch.
“You want this.”
“There's a thing called restraint, Sylar.”
Sylar smiled, “What's that?”
“Cute, real cute. Now, get off.” Mohinder's voice was strained, like he was on the verge of either severely hurting Sylar or melting into his arms. Sylar pushed for the latter. He trailed his lips up Mohinder's throat, pressing him back into the wall, this time being nice and making sure the knob was no where near his spine.
“No. Let me go,” Mohinder groaned. Sylar smiled, pleased he didn't sound so certain.
Mohinder's hands went to Sylar's chest. Sylar's constant invisible ministrations was an excellent assault against Mohinder's already fragile guard. He knew that without the enticement, it would be easy to refuse Sylar, but with temptation it was an entirely different matter altogether.
The truth was that Mohinder had loved Zane, that damned fake persona. He couldn't escape that fact. But Sylar, he was the man who had killed his father and many of his friends, had threatened his family... He hated him. Nevertheless, there was this underlying attraction between them, openly accepted by Sylar while Mohinder sustained a feeble resistance.
And spending time with the man, both of them being alone on a daily basis, it was becoming more and more challenging to ignore it. Yet, Mohinder persisted his commendable denial, and no mater how seductive Sylar could be, he would continue to elude the killer as long as possible.
“Don't.” Unlike before, Mohinder's voice didn't waver.
To further support his conviction, he pulled all the stops. He took a step forward as he shoved Sylar back, bringing his arm back and swinging.
Taking advantage of the opportunity, Mohinder quickly unlocked the door before Sylar could get his wits about him, stepping inside. Before he shut it, he caught Sylar's disappointed and aggravated eyes, “Don't try that again.”
“Dammit,” was all Sylar could utter as the door was slammed in his face, fingers on the forming bruise that would vanish within seconds. He thought about simply knocking the door down, but he holed himself up in his motel room instead.
Forcing Mohinder like this just wasn't working, and Sylar wasn't sure he wanted it to be like that anyways. It wasn't nearly as rewarding as Mohinder giving into him without any persuasion. That was what he really wanted. All of Mohinder; his heart and soul. After all, he was the only one who was worthy.
Sylar felt so stupid, longing for a 'mate' like he was, but it was ingrained in every beings DNA and his was no excuse; it'd just taken a while to surface. Indeed, even with all of his bursts of violence, he didn't really want to hurt Mohinder, nor did he really want to see that anger in his eyes. It may have been thrilling at first, but now it was simply getting old.
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When Claire woke up, she swore she was trapped in yet another dream because Elle Bishop was sitting next to her bed, actually looking worried. But once she saw Claire's eyes flutter open, that worry changed to anger in an instant.
“Why did you do that! Taking both of us out of there? You should have known we couldn't die, they would just use your blood to revive us. We don't need you incapacitated, even for a few hours!”
Claire couldn't help but smile, “So now I'm important?”
Elle scowled, “You're important to the Company.”
“Not to you? In the least bit? Keep in mind I did save your life.”
Elle crossed her arms, an insolent expression crossing her face, “Yeah, well, as I said before, if I died they would have used your blood. So, only your blood is.” Biting her lip, she speedily changed the subject. “Why did you even bother?”
Claire sighed, running her fingers through her hair before resting her hand on her stomach; she was hungry and talking to Elle was exhausting enough when one wasn't starving.
“I guess old habits die hard.”
Claire could not have very well let them die just because she could use her blood to bring them back. Instincts had kicked in and she'd done what was necessary to keep Elle and the physician's assistant from being zombies minus the rotting flesh and brain eating. That had happened to included murder.
Although Sylar had been the one to commit the actual act before, it wasn't like she was unaccustomed to blood on her hands.
Elle leaned back in her chair, arms crossed tighter now. She watched Claire, eyes hard, “You've got to do something about that Hero Complex, Claire.”
Claire grinned, “So, you waited by my side until I was awake to tell me that I don't mean anything to you and that I have a Hero Complex... Are you done yet?”
Elle's eyes widened, a bit shocked, but she composed herself quickly. She proceeded to stare at Claire like it'd make her day if she could only toast her a bit. “Yeah, done.”
She stood up and walked out of the room, not even taking the time to catch a last glimpse of Claire reclining in her pallid hospital bed.
Claire snorted to herself, “A thank you would have sufficed...” But that was probably her way of showing gratitude. As fucked up as it was, she'd still stayed by her bedside until she regained consciousness and had scolded her as if she had been concerned.
Claire beamed, she was the first person to get a thank you from Elle... In one way or another.
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Claire was up and running long before Mohinder and Sylar returned. The first thing that Mohinder did, as expected, was march straight to Claire's office and yell at her as if she wasn't his boss.
Claire merely sat lazily in her chair and let him have at it, tuning in every once in a while. It had not gone well, apparently. They would have to send someone else to retrieve Francis Jacobs, but that hadn't been one of Claire's top priorities anyways. The trip had meant to bring Mohinder and Sylar closer, but it appeared as though Mohinder had not given into Sylar's charm as she'd hoped he would.
Her plan had been thus: Jacobs would have known their past, certainly Sylar's, and attack, probably going for the weakest individual. In response, Sylar would have to defend Mohinder, and hence the kickoff of a semblance of an improved relationship. Too bad it'd done the opposite.
Well, she'd tried. Didn't that give her some points? 20, perhaps?
Sylar was going to be pissed. And he was. Not five minutes after she sent Mohinder out to calm down was Sylar there to complain.
“He is so stubborn!” and “Can't you threaten him a bit? I'm sick of doing it!” All he did was bitch, bitch, and bitch some more.
Frankly, Claire was weary of it, but a happy Sylar was a happy Claire and, consequently, a successful Company so it was not like she could just up and end all of her efforts.
Neither had even taken the time to ask how things had been at the Company since they'd gone. Selfish bastards.
Claire managed her annoyance by getting rid of Sylar's presence. She assured him that she would continue finding ways to put the two together and that he just had to be patient. Honestly, Claire had already thought of a way. Granted, it was risky, but it was about the only option she had left.
Determined, she called for Elle.
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“I am going to be blunt with you. Sylar needs to get laid. By Mohinder. Do you have any suggestions about how this should be accomplished?”
Quite clearly, this was not what Elle had expected to have a conversation about. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. I know it sounds ridiculous, but..”
“No, no, actually it doesn't. Not really. I mean, it's obvious those two are totally crazy for each other, although not in a very orthodox manner...” Elle gazed down at her crossed hands, a frown line creasing the brow of her pretty face, “I understand Mohinder's reasons for saying no, but it's about time to move on. Every relationship has its obstacles, theirs is just a tad more difficult.”
Claire was a bit surprised herself. For Elle to somewhat go along with it and not completely toss it aside and patronize her for even suggesting it was a feat within itself. Elle's features turned pensive, giving Claire the opportunity to add her own thoughts.
“Exactly, we need to find a way to get the two of them past all that. Uh, I was thinking of finding someone with the ability over pheromones...”
Elle laughed, a smile replacing her scowl, “I don't think we have to do something quite so drastic.”
Claire's eyes narrowed pleasantly, “Then what exactly do you have in mind?”
“I don't know yet, give me a little while. I'll work on Mohinder, I know him better than anybody else around here, which is why I'm guessing you decided to ask me for help.” And Elle was all too proud of that fact. Claire was asking her for help.
“All I have to do is utilize my amazing manipulative talents, “ She was smirking as she said this, obviously finding it quite humorous that she could use the skills that had got her branded as a sociopath to aid The Company's best interests; as well as for Mohinder's benefit. “Sylar is already getting hot and heavy...”
“Yep. It's all up to you, sparky.”
Elle quickly closed back up, becoming quite disgruntled at the so freely given nickname. Claire hastily diagnosed the problem, “Oh crap, I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by it.”
But it was too late to take it back now. The tiny window that Elle had opened was slammed shut and locked.
Tension once more coated the air, silence adding to the thick mist. Claire cleared her throat, eyes lowered before trying to catch Elle's to no avail. Elle continued as though nothing out of the norm had just occurred, “Alright then...I'll get to work now.”
She stood up, hand on the door when Claire tried to stop her from walking away. “No, wait, Elle. Stay here. I'd like to talk to you, business aside.”
Elle didn't turn, she just bowed her head, leaning against the door. “What is it?”
Claire stood up, walking around her desk in order to get nearer to the girl. Elle sensed her closing the gap between them and twisted around to face her, the expression on her face visibly telling Claire to stay where she was, so she did.
“I want us to be able to work together, not just because I am your boss, but because you want to.”
Elle cocked her head, “I thought you said business aside.”
A small smile tugged at Claire's lips, and she ended it right when she felt it. “Fine, so it's a fusion of business and something more personal. Just listen to me, alright? Don't block me out.”
Elle glared at her and Claire knew what Elle must be thinking.
”Why should I listen to you? What could you possibly have to say that's worth my precious time?”
“I've realized that how much I hated you was unfair. I didn't even know you and now that I've had time to think since working here, I understand your motives. Why you did what you did. It was necessary.”
Elle preserved her blank look, but she was definitely paying attention. Claire could see that from the distinct, intrigued glimmer in her gray eyes.
“And so, I want you to know that I no longer harbor any ill will towards you. We have a clean slate, so to speak...if you're willing to give me one as well. I mean, you've got to admit...I've done this place well.”
“Oh, you mean besides the psychotic poisonous guy, right?”
Claire smirked, “Smart ass.”
“You know it.” And there Elle was, opening up again. Even she didn't know why she kept doing that. She'd only ever done it to two people before. Peter and Mohinder. One was dead, the other was in love with a madman. What was so different about Claire?
Maybe it was that envy kicking in again. Her own personalized requirement of keeping up the appearance that on some levels, Elle Bishop was in fact better than Claire Bennet.
Eventually, Elle was giving her a true grin, one that did not lie like she herself often did, “Alright, Claire. I'll give you another chance. Just don't go prancing around like you're superior to everyone else or the deal is off.”
“But, I am. The boss, remember?” A carefree smile trailed Claire's words.
The light sarcasm reminded Elle of the teenager Claire should have been. She maintained the smile before nodding and disappearing, for once leaving on good terms.
That was a first, but hopefully not the last. Claire wasn't joking when she said that she wanted her and Elle to be...oh god, thinking it made it seem so damned juvenile, but it was the truth. Friends. Hadn't they earned it, after everything they had been through?
Half of the ordeals that Elle had been through she wasn't even aware of yet. But, if Claire had anything to do with it, that would all change soon enough. It was simple. She had to get her to trust her before she'd be able to tell Elle all of what her father had done. But not to spite her, solely so she knew the truth and didn't hold her father up on such a high pedestal any longer.