Heroes Collaboration Fic/Art: Pick, Girl, the Roses - Part I
Title: Pick, Girl, the Roses
Author: freetheelves2
Artist: _odella_
Rating: PG for now
Characters: Sylar/Claire
Word Count: 2,667
Chapter: 1/?
Warnings: Spoilers up through S2, with a few bits here and there AU-ish
Summary: When Sylar contracts the Shanti Virus, there's only one person that can save him.
After he tries to kill Alejandro and fails, he runs.
He's dying and he knows it.
Somewhere in the far recesses of his memory that he knows its no use to access for the fear of desperation, he wonders whether Claire Bennet's ability would have kept this from happening. Whether he wouldn't be dying now, wasting away in a car that won't stop moving because he's afraid to.
He's not so sure anymore.
***
"They don't trust me. And I don't blame them! I wouldn't trust myself - but they won't let me help them anymore. I'm not sent out into the field to cure, bag, and tag. This is the only way. These people's lives are in danger! The company thinks their lives are expendable for the 'greater good' just because they don’t trust me!"
"I don't care," he grins out after the admirable speech, his eyes closing slowly. "You are not using my Claire for this."
He can hear the boiling point coming closer.
It's been coming closer for weeks now.
"Are you listening to yourself? They're just taking my blood from me - I have no more control in this, but she could make a real difference."
"Don't think I'm agreeing with you, because I'm not, but I'm going to have to talk to Claire about this. No matter what happens, I will not let her become a company puppet."
"Of course," he says, as if it's to be taken for granted.
It isn't.
***
She's watched him from the kitchen for the last ten minutes.
The thing about the two of them is that she knows she can't trust him, still. He's made that much clear, however unintentionally.
Similarly, he doesn't trust her.
A family bound by lies.
"I need to talk to you about something, Claire. Why don't you come sit."
It's that tone of voice - she knows it too well. He pats the spot next to him on the couch and she smiles, unsure whether she means it or not. Yet.
"What's wrong?"
"Claire, I want you to know that I would never let you become a tool of the company like I once did."
She doesn't say anything, and he continues.
"I just got off the phone with Dr. Suresh. He made… an interesting proposal. It's not connected to the company, but it would make a difference."
"I want to," she says almost instinctually, before she can stop herself.
"Now, Claire, you don't have to do this-"
She cuts him off. "No, I want to." Taking a deep breath, she nods. "Dad, you keep trying to hide me from the world, but I want to help, somehow. I don't care what it is - otherwise I'm useless."
He nods - slowly - seemingly lost in thought.
Her heart feels like it's beating in her neck.
"I'll see what I can do."
***
Her father has always had amazing sort of powers of middle management, and when an unexpected bag-and-tag case just happens to present itself in California, it's simply convenient when Dr. Suresh takes a detour to visit an old friend.
Sort of.
"I'm glad you could make it," she hears her father say from the foyer. "No partner? I'm surprised?"
She doesn't hear the answer, stepping forward and into their line of sight.
"Well?"
She sees her father nod. "What does this entail for my Claire-bear?"
There's a lot of nodding and gesturing and while Dr. Suresh seems nothing if not eager and enthusiastic about this entire endeavor, he doesn't seem like the most tactful or subtle sort of person.
"Yes, well, they're not letting me into the field to cure anyone with my blood anymore. They say I'm 'too valuable' of an asset to be sent out into the field to do such work, but we both know that that's ridiculous." Claire knows just how invisible she is in all of this. It's awkward, even if only a little bit. "But the thing is - even if they would let me keep going, I'm only human. I only have so much blood to spare."
It's awkward because she's suddenly an experiment, a lab rat, and she'll be glad when the briefing is done with, as she feels herself tense. I'm only human, unlike her.
"But with your daughter's" -so personal- "unique genetic marker, she'd not only be able to freely give out massive amounts of blood, but, theoretically, it would simply take on the antibodies, were they introduced into her system. She would become an indestructible, never-expendable source of the cure against the virus!"
It's weird - how can someone be so enthusiastic about turning someone into a machine?
If Claire is doing this, she's doing it to make a difference and because she can help out, not because she can run her arm through a blender and expect it to grow back.
She frowns, and Dr. Suresh hands her father a list.
"The radioisotope from the bag-and-tags actually has allowed us to track those individuals that the virus has targeted. That's the list of them as of… last Saturday. They won't let me have access anymore. And I don't know how many others are out there that the company doesn't know about. But that gives names and addresses for most of them and should be a good starting point."
He nods, as if it's really that simple.
"So… what happens now?"
"I'm going to inject you with this sample of my blood. Then we'll wait ten minutes and see if my hypothesis is correct."
She makes a face when she realizes that he's treating her like a five-year-old.
She flinches, briefly, when it happens, but it's over quickly and she doesn't ask questions when he determines that it's worked, and that she'll be able to help. She doesn't think she's meant to, and she smiles and nods until Dr. Suresh decides he has to leave again.
Then it's personal again.
"Weekends, Claire. That's it. Just weekends. You can't go away any farther than three states away."
She nods, smiling. Even if Dr. Suresh sees her as a machine, she isn't, and all of this is giving her the chance to be extraordinary - if only on weekends.
***
"Do I know any of these people?"
He shakes his head briefly, looking at the list. "You don't, but-"
The expression on his face makes her freeze, afraid - almost - to ask what's wrong.
"There is… one on here you might remember."
He clears his throat and Claire grabs the list again, her eyes running over it. "I don't…"
"Gabriel Gray," he starts, pointing at the name, "is the man also known as Sylar."
"But that means-"
"He doesn't have his abilities right now, yes." He pauses, staring at her, slowly shaking his head. "Claire, that doesn't make that man any less dangerous than he usually is. Promise me you won't go after him."
"There isn't even a location listed," she says, shrugging as if to dismiss the point entirely.
Despite herself, she really isn't.
***
For what feels like the millionth time that night, she stares at the list as if it's only there to taunt her.
Taunt her with what?
The problem is, really, with the fact that Sylar's name - his real name - is on there. Temptation is just under her skin, she can feel it gnawing at her, fraying her at the edges…
There is something undeniably appealing about confronting the face of danger and living to tell about it.
Here she has a chance to live through it, too.
And not just that, either. Here she has the chance to taunt him, see him vulnerable because suddenly she's the only one who can fix him.
It brings another question to light, however - that of which she should even fix him. Does he deserve to be fixed? Does he deserve salvation? For all she knows, the minute he'd regain his abilities he'd come after her. A suicide mission, if she fulfills her role. As far as she's aware, a man like Sylar doesn't concern himself with principles of life - easily enough feeling no shame murdering his savior.
Really, it's mad to even think about any of this. Rationality and super-powered serial killer had never really gone together in her book before now.
Even if he promised… she can't expect much from a man like this. She can't expect anything at all.
It begs the question of why this even is one. Why is this even up for consideration?
Because every man deserves salvation, a second chance? Because Claire is a hopeless idealist and a foolhardy act-first sort of person?
Really, her reasons are purely selfish, if she thinks about it. The stupid feeling of superiority and power that accompanies control over the fate of her killer.
She doesn't even have to give him the cure.
***
"Annette Starling," she lies the following Friday after school. "San Fran. I should be back Sunday night at the latest."
She knows he doesn't trust her, and it almost makes her reconsider for the sake of him. Almost.
She doesn't even know Annette Starling's address - hasn't bothered to check - because it doesn't matter. She has no idea where she's going, searching for a man without address, just that she's intent on searching through the entire southwest. Or, at any rate, as much ground as she can cover in a weekend.
***
She doesn't find anything the first weekend, or the second, or the third, coming back only to tell her father that she can't find these people - as if she's trying - which usually earns her several comments about how she should appreciate the work he did for the family more.
She doesn't.
On the fourth weekend, she finally gets a hint of a lead. She would have never thought that she'd be following a trail of death - weren't his powers gone? - but the distinct scent of murder in the air proves her wrong.
She traces his steps - somewhere in Mexico just across the border, Arizona-
When she intends to trace his trail to New Mexico, she finds her car instead.
"His name was Derek - we left him behind - I am so sorry, but we need this car - we have to get to New York to see Dr. Suresh!"
She waits and finds out that they don't have the virus - that their problem is much greater by far.
She also finds out that they used to have a third to their party.
"I told Alejandro that Gabriel was sent to us by God - like the angel! - but he did not listen. Didn't trust him. I felt horrible, but we left him behind in Arizona."
Claire nods, not bothering to correct either of their assumptions about him. "Where in Arizona? Do you remember?"
The woman looks intently uncomfortable for a moment, shifting her weight from one foot to another. "At a gas station. Near Sedona."
She thanks them, racing home and barely back on time.
That week passes dreadfully, where she wonders how far he could have made it - is making it - while she's sitting in class doing nothing.
But every period of waiting eventually comes to an end, and before she knows it, she's back on the road, back in Arizona, back to asking everyone willing to talk to her about a tall, dark, imposing man, unshaven, generally, with dark hair.
If he has the virus, Claire realizes that he is unlikely to be a great threat to anyone. Let alone be in disguise.
In a run-down gas station in Flagstaff she gets her lead again, a man dropping the same city-name - Sedona - as well as the name, Gabriel.
She finds out that he's been there before heading off to Indian Gardens, not far from there, which gives her a direction. There's no sense in going backwards, especially for him.
When she reaches Indian Gardens, she loses her trail. No one has seen the man - at least not after he was seen at the Phillips 66 where he seems to have just… disappeared.
People don't just disappear. At least not typically. And while nothing about this situation is typical in any way at all, if he could disappear, she would be following another trail of murder, not a trail of deterioration.
Somewhere, somehow, she's made a mistake.
She searches the mysterious gas station, every other one, and the entire city and surroundings until she doesn't have time to search any longer, resolving to return the next weekend to search again and see if, perhaps, she can pick the trail back up again.
It's a damn rabbit chase, and she wonders whether he knows. Whether he's just enjoying himself messing with her like this.
***
Yes. Claire has made a mistake.
Looking for Sylar when she should have been looking for Gabriel Gray, watching her list more closely.
It's almost amusing that she's passed the bench at least five times, looking for him.
Almost.
Would be, perhaps, more amusing if he had known as well.
Painfully symbolic, of course.
No one notices Gabriel Gray.
No pretty, blonde, super-powered cheerleader would ever stop and notice Gabriel Gray.
They notice Sylar because he makes them. Pity.
Gabriel Gray gives up. Sylar keeps going.
If Sylar stops and gives up, he's not Sylar.
Not anymore.
Gabriel Gray is different. Gabriel Gray wears proper clothes, cardigans, sweater-vests, and jumpers over button downs. He wears glasses and combs his hair neat. He's clean. He's insignificant - he just blends in and… disappears.
Until someone looks closer.
***
It's extraordinarily lucky, in a way, how short of a drive it is - relatively. It actually gives the chance to actively search instead of driving to New Mexico and promptly returning.
She spends her entire weekend searching, not giving up until dusk breaks, the sky exploding with color, her sign that it's time to return home if she wants to be on time. It's not like her father isn't already suspicious.
Defeated - for now - she slumps down onto the bench.
She had to have passed by it at least a dozen - probably more - times, and, interestingly enough, the man sitting on it seems to have never moved from his spot there since.
It makes her wonder whether he's even alive.
"I'm looking for someone extraordinary," she says, not sure why she's telling the stranger.
"Well," he replies, much to her surprise, "you're talking to the wrong person."
She doesn't say anything - how could she? what on earth does one say to that? - staring at her fingernails as if they could give her some sort of answer to her question.
Her thoughts, however, are interrupted when the man beside her suddenly falls forward, face first, onto the ground.
Unexpected. Jumping up from her spot, she rushes toward him, rolling him over so she might see-
She doesn't expect to freeze, her mouth falling open in shock, to feel a wave of nausea pass over her, to consider running - wanting, very suddenly, to flee in terror from the very thing she's been chasing after for weeks and weeks.
There's nothing quite like looking into the face that haunts your nightmares.
As if she could have forgotten him.
It can't wait a week, is the thing, and she resolves then and there that she won't run.
It takes her maybe ten minutes to call her father, leaving a message letting him know that she's found someone far more delicate than she'd expected, and that this will take a little longer, knowing full well that she'll go through hell for this.
He won't like it, but he doesn't really have a choice - not this time.
***
She's lucky the small town has a motel, checking them both in.
Actually getting him into the room is more of a battle.
He's tall, and much, much bigger than her overall, and it results in her having to bribe one of the hotel employees to help carry him in.
She's telling enough lies to be her own father.
Author: freetheelves2
Artist: _odella_
Rating: PG for now
Characters: Sylar/Claire
Word Count: 2,667
Chapter: 1/?
Warnings: Spoilers up through S2, with a few bits here and there AU-ish
Summary: When Sylar contracts the Shanti Virus, there's only one person that can save him.
After he tries to kill Alejandro and fails, he runs.
He's dying and he knows it.
Somewhere in the far recesses of his memory that he knows its no use to access for the fear of desperation, he wonders whether Claire Bennet's ability would have kept this from happening. Whether he wouldn't be dying now, wasting away in a car that won't stop moving because he's afraid to.
He's not so sure anymore.
***
"They don't trust me. And I don't blame them! I wouldn't trust myself - but they won't let me help them anymore. I'm not sent out into the field to cure, bag, and tag. This is the only way. These people's lives are in danger! The company thinks their lives are expendable for the 'greater good' just because they don’t trust me!"
"I don't care," he grins out after the admirable speech, his eyes closing slowly. "You are not using my Claire for this."
He can hear the boiling point coming closer.
It's been coming closer for weeks now.
"Are you listening to yourself? They're just taking my blood from me - I have no more control in this, but she could make a real difference."
"Don't think I'm agreeing with you, because I'm not, but I'm going to have to talk to Claire about this. No matter what happens, I will not let her become a company puppet."
"Of course," he says, as if it's to be taken for granted.
It isn't.
***
She's watched him from the kitchen for the last ten minutes.
The thing about the two of them is that she knows she can't trust him, still. He's made that much clear, however unintentionally.
Similarly, he doesn't trust her.
A family bound by lies.
"I need to talk to you about something, Claire. Why don't you come sit."
It's that tone of voice - she knows it too well. He pats the spot next to him on the couch and she smiles, unsure whether she means it or not. Yet.
"What's wrong?"
"Claire, I want you to know that I would never let you become a tool of the company like I once did."
She doesn't say anything, and he continues.
"I just got off the phone with Dr. Suresh. He made… an interesting proposal. It's not connected to the company, but it would make a difference."
"I want to," she says almost instinctually, before she can stop herself.
"Now, Claire, you don't have to do this-"
She cuts him off. "No, I want to." Taking a deep breath, she nods. "Dad, you keep trying to hide me from the world, but I want to help, somehow. I don't care what it is - otherwise I'm useless."
He nods - slowly - seemingly lost in thought.
Her heart feels like it's beating in her neck.
"I'll see what I can do."
***
Her father has always had amazing sort of powers of middle management, and when an unexpected bag-and-tag case just happens to present itself in California, it's simply convenient when Dr. Suresh takes a detour to visit an old friend.
Sort of.
"I'm glad you could make it," she hears her father say from the foyer. "No partner? I'm surprised?"
She doesn't hear the answer, stepping forward and into their line of sight.
"Well?"
She sees her father nod. "What does this entail for my Claire-bear?"
There's a lot of nodding and gesturing and while Dr. Suresh seems nothing if not eager and enthusiastic about this entire endeavor, he doesn't seem like the most tactful or subtle sort of person.
"Yes, well, they're not letting me into the field to cure anyone with my blood anymore. They say I'm 'too valuable' of an asset to be sent out into the field to do such work, but we both know that that's ridiculous." Claire knows just how invisible she is in all of this. It's awkward, even if only a little bit. "But the thing is - even if they would let me keep going, I'm only human. I only have so much blood to spare."
It's awkward because she's suddenly an experiment, a lab rat, and she'll be glad when the briefing is done with, as she feels herself tense. I'm only human, unlike her.
"But with your daughter's" -so personal- "unique genetic marker, she'd not only be able to freely give out massive amounts of blood, but, theoretically, it would simply take on the antibodies, were they introduced into her system. She would become an indestructible, never-expendable source of the cure against the virus!"
It's weird - how can someone be so enthusiastic about turning someone into a machine?
If Claire is doing this, she's doing it to make a difference and because she can help out, not because she can run her arm through a blender and expect it to grow back.
She frowns, and Dr. Suresh hands her father a list.
"The radioisotope from the bag-and-tags actually has allowed us to track those individuals that the virus has targeted. That's the list of them as of… last Saturday. They won't let me have access anymore. And I don't know how many others are out there that the company doesn't know about. But that gives names and addresses for most of them and should be a good starting point."
He nods, as if it's really that simple.
"So… what happens now?"
"I'm going to inject you with this sample of my blood. Then we'll wait ten minutes and see if my hypothesis is correct."
She makes a face when she realizes that he's treating her like a five-year-old.
She flinches, briefly, when it happens, but it's over quickly and she doesn't ask questions when he determines that it's worked, and that she'll be able to help. She doesn't think she's meant to, and she smiles and nods until Dr. Suresh decides he has to leave again.
Then it's personal again.
"Weekends, Claire. That's it. Just weekends. You can't go away any farther than three states away."
She nods, smiling. Even if Dr. Suresh sees her as a machine, she isn't, and all of this is giving her the chance to be extraordinary - if only on weekends.
***
"Do I know any of these people?"
He shakes his head briefly, looking at the list. "You don't, but-"
The expression on his face makes her freeze, afraid - almost - to ask what's wrong.
"There is… one on here you might remember."
He clears his throat and Claire grabs the list again, her eyes running over it. "I don't…"
"Gabriel Gray," he starts, pointing at the name, "is the man also known as Sylar."
"But that means-"
"He doesn't have his abilities right now, yes." He pauses, staring at her, slowly shaking his head. "Claire, that doesn't make that man any less dangerous than he usually is. Promise me you won't go after him."
"There isn't even a location listed," she says, shrugging as if to dismiss the point entirely.
Despite herself, she really isn't.
***
For what feels like the millionth time that night, she stares at the list as if it's only there to taunt her.
Taunt her with what?
The problem is, really, with the fact that Sylar's name - his real name - is on there. Temptation is just under her skin, she can feel it gnawing at her, fraying her at the edges…
There is something undeniably appealing about confronting the face of danger and living to tell about it.
Here she has a chance to live through it, too.
And not just that, either. Here she has the chance to taunt him, see him vulnerable because suddenly she's the only one who can fix him.
It brings another question to light, however - that of which she should even fix him. Does he deserve to be fixed? Does he deserve salvation? For all she knows, the minute he'd regain his abilities he'd come after her. A suicide mission, if she fulfills her role. As far as she's aware, a man like Sylar doesn't concern himself with principles of life - easily enough feeling no shame murdering his savior.
Really, it's mad to even think about any of this. Rationality and super-powered serial killer had never really gone together in her book before now.
Even if he promised… she can't expect much from a man like this. She can't expect anything at all.
It begs the question of why this even is one. Why is this even up for consideration?
Because every man deserves salvation, a second chance? Because Claire is a hopeless idealist and a foolhardy act-first sort of person?
Really, her reasons are purely selfish, if she thinks about it. The stupid feeling of superiority and power that accompanies control over the fate of her killer.
She doesn't even have to give him the cure.
***
"Annette Starling," she lies the following Friday after school. "San Fran. I should be back Sunday night at the latest."
She knows he doesn't trust her, and it almost makes her reconsider for the sake of him. Almost.
She doesn't even know Annette Starling's address - hasn't bothered to check - because it doesn't matter. She has no idea where she's going, searching for a man without address, just that she's intent on searching through the entire southwest. Or, at any rate, as much ground as she can cover in a weekend.
***
She doesn't find anything the first weekend, or the second, or the third, coming back only to tell her father that she can't find these people - as if she's trying - which usually earns her several comments about how she should appreciate the work he did for the family more.
She doesn't.
On the fourth weekend, she finally gets a hint of a lead. She would have never thought that she'd be following a trail of death - weren't his powers gone? - but the distinct scent of murder in the air proves her wrong.
She traces his steps - somewhere in Mexico just across the border, Arizona-
When she intends to trace his trail to New Mexico, she finds her car instead.
"His name was Derek - we left him behind - I am so sorry, but we need this car - we have to get to New York to see Dr. Suresh!"
She waits and finds out that they don't have the virus - that their problem is much greater by far.
She also finds out that they used to have a third to their party.
"I told Alejandro that Gabriel was sent to us by God - like the angel! - but he did not listen. Didn't trust him. I felt horrible, but we left him behind in Arizona."
Claire nods, not bothering to correct either of their assumptions about him. "Where in Arizona? Do you remember?"
The woman looks intently uncomfortable for a moment, shifting her weight from one foot to another. "At a gas station. Near Sedona."
She thanks them, racing home and barely back on time.
That week passes dreadfully, where she wonders how far he could have made it - is making it - while she's sitting in class doing nothing.
But every period of waiting eventually comes to an end, and before she knows it, she's back on the road, back in Arizona, back to asking everyone willing to talk to her about a tall, dark, imposing man, unshaven, generally, with dark hair.
If he has the virus, Claire realizes that he is unlikely to be a great threat to anyone. Let alone be in disguise.
In a run-down gas station in Flagstaff she gets her lead again, a man dropping the same city-name - Sedona - as well as the name, Gabriel.
She finds out that he's been there before heading off to Indian Gardens, not far from there, which gives her a direction. There's no sense in going backwards, especially for him.
When she reaches Indian Gardens, she loses her trail. No one has seen the man - at least not after he was seen at the Phillips 66 where he seems to have just… disappeared.
People don't just disappear. At least not typically. And while nothing about this situation is typical in any way at all, if he could disappear, she would be following another trail of murder, not a trail of deterioration.
Somewhere, somehow, she's made a mistake.
She searches the mysterious gas station, every other one, and the entire city and surroundings until she doesn't have time to search any longer, resolving to return the next weekend to search again and see if, perhaps, she can pick the trail back up again.
It's a damn rabbit chase, and she wonders whether he knows. Whether he's just enjoying himself messing with her like this.
***
Yes. Claire has made a mistake.
Looking for Sylar when she should have been looking for Gabriel Gray, watching her list more closely.
It's almost amusing that she's passed the bench at least five times, looking for him.
Almost.
Would be, perhaps, more amusing if he had known as well.
Painfully symbolic, of course.
No one notices Gabriel Gray.
No pretty, blonde, super-powered cheerleader would ever stop and notice Gabriel Gray.
They notice Sylar because he makes them. Pity.
Gabriel Gray gives up. Sylar keeps going.
If Sylar stops and gives up, he's not Sylar.
Not anymore.
Gabriel Gray is different. Gabriel Gray wears proper clothes, cardigans, sweater-vests, and jumpers over button downs. He wears glasses and combs his hair neat. He's clean. He's insignificant - he just blends in and… disappears.
Until someone looks closer.
***
It's extraordinarily lucky, in a way, how short of a drive it is - relatively. It actually gives the chance to actively search instead of driving to New Mexico and promptly returning.
She spends her entire weekend searching, not giving up until dusk breaks, the sky exploding with color, her sign that it's time to return home if she wants to be on time. It's not like her father isn't already suspicious.
Defeated - for now - she slumps down onto the bench.
She had to have passed by it at least a dozen - probably more - times, and, interestingly enough, the man sitting on it seems to have never moved from his spot there since.
It makes her wonder whether he's even alive.
"I'm looking for someone extraordinary," she says, not sure why she's telling the stranger.
"Well," he replies, much to her surprise, "you're talking to the wrong person."
She doesn't say anything - how could she? what on earth does one say to that? - staring at her fingernails as if they could give her some sort of answer to her question.
Her thoughts, however, are interrupted when the man beside her suddenly falls forward, face first, onto the ground.
Unexpected. Jumping up from her spot, she rushes toward him, rolling him over so she might see-
She doesn't expect to freeze, her mouth falling open in shock, to feel a wave of nausea pass over her, to consider running - wanting, very suddenly, to flee in terror from the very thing she's been chasing after for weeks and weeks.
There's nothing quite like looking into the face that haunts your nightmares.
As if she could have forgotten him.
It can't wait a week, is the thing, and she resolves then and there that she won't run.
It takes her maybe ten minutes to call her father, leaving a message letting him know that she's found someone far more delicate than she'd expected, and that this will take a little longer, knowing full well that she'll go through hell for this.
He won't like it, but he doesn't really have a choice - not this time.
***
She's lucky the small town has a motel, checking them both in.
Actually getting him into the room is more of a battle.
He's tall, and much, much bigger than her overall, and it results in her having to bribe one of the hotel employees to help carry him in.
She's telling enough lies to be her own father.