Rock, part 2 (adult version)

[wickedrum]

Title: Rock
Disclaimers: I don't own any supernatural powers or anything else to do with Heroes.
Genre: angst, hurt/comfort, romance, classical sickfic for the sake of it.

Rating: R
Summary/Set: The world will not come to an end if Sylar can help it.

Pairing: eventual Sylaire and Pemma

Main characters: Sylar, Claire, Peter, HRG, Mohinder, Emma.


Chapter 11: Sentiency

Claire squirmed inside as the well known faces of a mainstream news crew filed in to set up their equipment. She had spent years trying to remain in the obscurity of an ordinary school girl's existence, with not very much success. Of course after abilities became a public freak show as opposed to her private in the brave new world, in the common bid of all humans to deflect the asteroid from its course, it had become nigh impossible for her to remain anonymous, along with hundreds of other specials. Withall, she had not been the center of attention as much as she will be now, and that bothered her more than perhaps appearing as if in solidarity with a serial killer, even if God forbid, people watching the screens assumed she was his girlfriend.

Miss Exclusive, the famous Grace Fletcher, or in other words the lucky, pretty-pretty woman, who had the good fortune to be able to cover Sylar and Peter's attempt to avert disaster at the rooftop, standing next to them, arrived patently excited and with a big smile on her face. She was sightly for sure, with a certain impertinence in her behavior, so characteristic to reporters, but one that reminded Claire of Elle Bishop.

The shorter blond glanced at Sylar, but he was too busy buttoning his shirt up to look decent for his television appearance. Claire however, determined that this Grace was one to watch. With a smile like that, you never knew what lay behind.

It was when she decided to sit on Sylar's bed. She had several reasons for it of course. A competitiveness against the taller beauty that urged her to make sure Grace knew Claire wasn't someone you could push aside for one. Right there, she was in a good position to interrupt Sylar if his words or actions ventured in any direction that wasn't desired, not to mention she noticed that his hands were starting to shake when reaching the lower buttons and it took longer and longer time for him to manage pushing them through the holes with the added difficulty of iv tubes still being attached to the back of his hands, as if that little effort would've worn him out.

The college student reached out quickly and determined, without much thought, her fingers only brushing against his for a slit second as she got them out the way. Cause there was no need to spend any more time under the uncomfortable circumstances of the prying eyes of some media vultures, than it was necessary, for either of them.

Sylar drew in a sharp breath, bewildered. His hands fell away with the startlement and he glanced up at her, needing the visual confirmation that she really was there. He followed her hands with his eyes then, her aura intermingling with his when she leaned close, her mouth mere inches, fingernails lightly scratching his skin as she worked. It lasted a few seconds the most, yet it was enough for the skilled intuitive man to hone one of his newest abilities in on her.

The intravenous lines were not just a physical predicament, getting in his way. His captors told him he was merely given fluids and electrolytes to help him stabilize, but he didn't need lie detection to know that wasn't true. Somewhere along the line, the better he got, the better he started feeling, more and more glycimerine got into the mix they delivered into his veins. They were trying to control him as usual, and as usual, drugs would not completely do the trick. Using any ability took more effort, energy he at the moment did not have very much of at his disposal. Time did not come yet to escape, he may as well take advantage of any hospitality he may offered, especially if Claire was part of the deal.

Her closeness however, switched on his power of empathy on spontaneous instinct and he inhaled her hopes and dreams, feelings and desires with her scent. Lydia's ability suited him really well, it was akin to his own empathy, something that tied in with his intuitive aptitude and insight into the brain.

She was on edge, there were too many things swirling in her head, making him dizzy. She was so determined, that young girl, it almost felt like it was her against the whole world she didn't need to hate so much for not accepting her for what she was. She so desperately needed to connect to be able to get rid of this hatred, relate to someone, unite for a common goal, join others like her in this. It was exactly what made Sylar's head spin. Cause when she thought of these desired relationships, those little synapses in her brain that coined the term, were hooked up with visualizations, visions of man and woman joined together, flesh meeting flesh, passions burning hot.

Claire was turned on right now, there was no question about it, and she also seemed to have had the feeling more permanently. What's more, this wall of sexual frustration was responsible for quite a lot of her negative emotions.

"We're on air in five seconds," Grace's camaraman announced.

Tbc

Chapter 12: Joy/Jaw of the Lambs

"Ladies and Gentleman! Viewers! Citizens of the Earth as one! Welcome to one of the most momentous times of humankind and meet our champion, a watchmaker called Gabriel Gray who stopped the end of everything! Gabriel, the able hero of God he is, but Gray he is not!"

Claire's sexy, thin eyebrows shot up in dislike. Surely Grace was one of the creme of sensational journalism, but did she even realize she was talking in rhyme?? And Gabriel Gray, who's that?? Of course, the news companies were given Sylar's police investigations and convictions file as opposed to the one they had on him at the company. Well, same thing, he was a serial killer who cut heads open anyway, only worse. The simple watchmaker had no reason to go on killing sprees, other than being a psychopath. No intuitive aptitude, no hunger, no connections to his biological family were written down there.

Grace continued sweetly, "I'm not going to thank you, because I can't. What you have done is beyond what anybody can say or do for you. But to give you an idea on what's going on out there in the world while you're recuperating here, look at the little screen," she indicated one of the monitors they have brought in with themselves, "this is the statue of you that has been erected of you in Washington this morning, but there are at least five of you all over the world. Thanks are pouring in. This is the steady row of trucks full of letters that are coming to our news station only, some of them are like prayers asking you various things as if you were some kind of god. Listen in to the crowd gathered at your statue on Capitol Hill:"

The camera showed the multitude, masses of people till the eyes could see, then zoomed on in those in the first rows. "He is our savior!" A middle aged woman said into the microphone through her tears.

"We give our undying devotion," shouted a teenager girl next to her.

"What brilliance and strength! Those two men, just by themselves have done something that six billion people were not able to!" A police officer added.

"They are almighty gods, they are not men," an elderly woman held and hung on to the barrier to kneel down before the sculpture, "gods to fear if you've done anything against them."

"You mean killing machine, not hero," a young man shouted in.

"Good he was on our side,"the first woman, who had previously called him a savior maintained.

"We'll have to obey him till the end of time, or he'll kill us all," another voice was heard, but the face belonging to it was not shown.

Sylar looked on warily, taking a glance at Claire in confusion. Yes, he wanted redemption, he wanted the chance to connect, he'd craved for love, but this was none of these. This was madness.

Grace confirmed his suspicions after the footage was paused, "and that's just some of the opinions and they are well divided as you can see. However, this god, whatever you wanted to call him is real as opposed to the ones we came to question and have not seen evidence of for centuries. Accessible to eyes and senses, what's more, tangible! And I'm going to touch him now, just to prove to you all just that!" The reporter reached out and held his hand, "oh wow!"

Claire was listening carefully, rather thrown herself, although she had expected people to react like that when they found out that their savior was a serial killer. Sylar looked uncomfortable and he shivered at the reporter's touch. Whatever he had found in the famous woman's thoughts and desires were not favorable, Claire would've bet on that. She really didn't like where this was heading.

"When I had been given the exclusive right to interview Peter Petrelli, he had said that he always tries not to think of himself as the big hero. He said he was just fortunate enough with his abilities to be able to do what had to be done. He looked a little shy," Grace added in all likelihood for her own benefit, not at all shyly, "how do you feel about having probably saved most human beings?"

"I thought about it as an opportunity, my chance to redeem myself. I have made many mistakes in the past," Sylar claimed, hoping that this time he will be believed. He had said it so many times before.

"Was that the biggest factor in your decision to avert disaster?" Grace continued matter of factly, as if she didn't know that her words were meant to sting and degrade his intentions.

The question was clearly a trap, but Sylar nodded before explaining, "I would be lying if I'd tell you that I was not driven by selfish reasons. I'd prefer to have a home, people to talk to, clear air to breathe as opposed to dust clouds. And most importantly, I saved the world because the person I love is in it."

"Was the world not worth saving otherwise?" The next question came too quickly.

Sylar shook his head sideways slowly, "I don't have illusions about humankind. I see it as it is. With the good and the bad, its beauty and all the deceit. The universe had always intrigued me, but I have never had a reason to love the world, not until I met her. I never knew that somebody can be good, exemplary, you know, inherently good, who would be a waste corrupting."

"Hm. Don't you think saying that about the human race is a little harsh given you were wanted for murder in sixteen states? That's all gone now of course, all clean, you can start afresh. It's the least the government can do for you."

Sylar sighed dejectedly. He was supposed to be the hero, so why did it feel like the interviewer kept attacking him. "You'd be surprised what the government can do for me," he groaned, promoting Claire to put a hand on his arm. It was partly why she was there, to deter the conversation for the company's sake if the need arose. It was the easy part, what she didn't have any idea was how to stop him from an outburst if he got pissed off with Grace's interviewing style, justified or not.

Just like the little blond feared, Sylar was too focused on the verbal attack and how the media wanted to present him. His hands balled into fists and her effort to attract his attention went almost unnoticed. Somewhere in the back of his mind a mechanism automatically set into motion, guided by his empathy by touch. Cortex and temporal lobes bridged pathways and attempted to communicate, but the message never fully registered. Claire was weary and apprehensive, and she conferred a certain concern, not only because the potentially escalating situation, but also for his wellbeing, of what could happen to a recovering power addict if he gets disillusioned again by people who have no idea about living with abilities and could only ever see them as mutants and threats.

In more peaceful circumstances, Claire's thoughts and emotions and the very fact of her having some regard for him, would've been a lifeline for Sylar, on the short and long term also. With them being on the peripheries of his awareness right now, he was lost in the heat of the situation. She was wrong about one thing though. It wasn't the anger and wish for vengeance that built in him as a result of the provocations, but a resignation that he could change nothing, that Gabriel will always have to be the persona he once chose to be by a fatal mistake. Sylar. A thought that was nothing short of the danger he could be, when hell bent on delivering personal justice.

The newswoman, with a good nose for sensationalist journalism, picked up on the double meaning to do with the government right away. Nothing better, than a good scandal, either party the victim, "do you think the government had treated you unfairly at any point in the past?"

He snorted and even Claire had to give a little humph. Let's just not go there. "As you can see he's tired out by the talking. The interview was supposed to be short," taking advantage of the fact that Sylar did not say anything, she used the excuse Angela has earlier advised her she should. She felt like she had to move fast. Perhaps Sylar was a different person now, but the old him would've never put up with such insolence towards him.

"Just one more question," Grace would not give up that easily of course, "in the view of your new life as a result of you given us ours, what are your strengths and what are the areas you wanna work on?" Meaning, thank you for saving us, but the world is really uncomfortable as savior with a serial killer who has numerous abilities.

Sylar did not make eye contact. You could tell he did not expect this. Could life be worse now, than before he had saved the planet? He winced, "I'm sorry, I'm having trouble concentrating because of the pain," he made a vague gesture towards his midsection.

"Oh, that's unfortunate, isn't it?" Went Grace. She never liked it when her interviewee tried to direct her. She smiled into the camera nevertheless, "you have seen the Grace Ratter Exclusive with our hero, Gabriel. We'll learn more about him soon."

The once cheerleader sighed in relief, glad that Sylar was playing along. It wasn't until everyone else left the room that she realized he was not lying. Leaning back onto the pillows, he grunted faintly, holding his stomach with splayed out fingers. Claire knew however, that it wasn't the physical pain that wore him out. Her negative hunches about Grace and the world's perspective on what has happened had come true. People wanted to continue living, but not with the price of having to accept the freaklike with abilities. It would not be very long before everything went back to evolved humans being hunted.

Sylar shut the outside world out as much as he could by shutting his eyes. He wouldn't ask for help. In his mind, he deserved all the pain as punishment for his past. He had thought that he had atoned for his sins with stopping collision, but apparently not. A feeling of powerlessness and hopelessness filled his heart and it made him feel queasy and light-headed, prompting the necessity for flight. It was hot and close and cramped and he had to get out of there. There was no point to this at all, no point to trying to prove himself if he had to do it over and over again and it would never be sufficient. He may as well let go and let his abilities take over, blind him, control him to an extent nothing hurt anymore.

Lips firmly squeezed together, his eyes snapped open, somewhat deepened, wild and glittering, lost in between his proud defiance and the burning hell of his conscience, his humanity sorely patent and Claire got a glimpse of that confused, lonely little boy who's fate it was to be cursed by not just a monstrous ability, but parents who were either too weak, too middling, or too evil to teach him how to live. She stared, hesitating. Sylar could get over everything, couldn't he? Despite the curious feeling passing into her, wanting to take his pain away, she decided he will get no help from her because he did not deserve it, after what he had done to her and her family.

Claire felt herself froze in the inside. She was doing it too, the very same thing she felt was unfair from others. She had to do it right, even if she would be the only one. The little blond reached out to squeeze his hand in a simple gesture of comfort. She wasn't sure how much was she ready for such a role herself, but it was a start.

It was the touch that stood between him and the darkness.

Tbc

Chapter 13: The Opposite of Antitrust

Shadows rose, calling out to the evil in his soul and he let them. No longer wanting them buried, Sylar half consciously welcomed the dark feeling, black, cold and heavy that he knew offered him a form of salvation by switching his shame and fear of solitude into a misguided optimism that he could change the world by force. A utopia that never happened and had not much chance of happening, but where the darkness blinded his mind enough not to think of the alternative.

Then suddenly, the protective cover of darkness enveloping him weakened, howling in a hungriness it knew would not be satisfied this time. Sylar winced. For a moment he had no idea what was going on. He groaned, concentrating on the well-set lightning that made the dark clouds fade somehow. He did not care what was trying to pull him out of his nightfall, he simply clang to the hand conveying understanding and solace through his empathic link.

Claire's voice was soft as she called out his name, over and over again. Not aware of his inner struggles, she was concerned for his well-being. At first, he seemed overtaken by physical discomfort, aggravated by the completely ridiculous behavior of a news' reporter who made her money and career sniffing out scandals, which upset him enough to lead him into a frenzy where he made an effort trying to get out of bed, despite his condition and the tubes attached to him. She had to catch him as he faltered forward and ease him back onto the bed.

As if waking, Sylar blinked his eyes rapidly. He shook his head, trying to clear his head of the last remains of the darkness. In his mind, he thought he was up against his evil tendencies and he never realized he was actually only fighting the darkness that threatened to overcome him as he almost passed out again.

"Take it easy, Sylar," Claire's voice called him back to the moment with a warm undertone he had never heard before. It remained however, determined and focused, just like everything she was doing in life. Without knowing what she wanted to do with her probably long existence, she had an odd sense of purpose, designed to defy her own note of pain, coming from the shadows of her past. "You are not gonna regain your strength like this," she scolded soothingly, though she knew that wouldn't happen in there while the company had the opposite intention, even if she wasn't sure she would be happy seeing him in full control of his powers again. She wasn't going to dwell on it however at the moment and poured a cup of water for him that she raised to his dry mouth, hoping it would help bring clarity to his mind.

Sylar welcomed the taste of the lovely, ice cold water and pressed the cup against his lips willingly. His thirst sated, he took a deep breath, trying to focus on her by smoothing his dark hair back, away from his eyes. "Those people are crazier than I am," he said slightly nervously, wondering how much of his psychological wobble registered with his favorite immortal.

"That is one reason why you shouldn't hurry so outside," she told him.

"I will be out of here in a couple of days," he claimed, regaining his confidence enough to produce his trademark smirk, "advice or not."

Claire smiled automatically. How typical of him to attempt the customarily impossible. If he failed, he'd just try again. "I don't doubt it," she rolled her eyes at the machoness in him trying to impress her. "But I don't want you to do that. I don't want you to disappear and make up your own absurd agenda on how to make me accept you in a future we are cursed to share." Maybe it wasn't fair, but she was going to use her greatest card against him, that he allegedly loved her and wished for something similar in return. Because if there was an ounce of something in him worthy of redeeming, absolving or saving, she certainly should not let him out her sight to deal with it by himself. He wasn't able to.

The abilities collector tilted his head, "you want me to stay here so that your father and grandmother could live out their sadistic tendencies, is it?"

"I want you to stay here because there's nothing out there for you amongst the multitude that would either dread you, worship you, or perhaps that is the very same thing. And most of all, I want you to stay here because I'm asking."

Sylar looked at her long, visibly contemplating. The situation certainly had no precedence. Claire has never asked him to remain at the facility before. It might just be the greatest drug anybody could ever come up to medicate him with into cooperation. But he was not known for settling for what was on offer. "What's in it for me, then?" He teased, just to see if he could get away with it, but the look in his eyes told her he was deadly serious and it had nothing to do with negotiating terms.

"You'll get the chance to mess with my mind and I'll enjoy it too. A chance to a life you might want," she said mysteriously, "please," she added with a indefinite expression on her face that made him think of her wanting to punish him personally in ways he would not entirely consider unpleasant. It would've been nice if he could touch her right now, to know for sure if she had any of the indecent thoughts he was toying about with.

"A friend would be nice," he gave, "a very close, open minded friend," he jested, double meanings flying. He'd always had a lot of fun playing that game with her. "All right," he rolled his head back, uttering the words slowly, "in that case I guess I'm staying for a while."

Claire nodded and set off into the direction of the door, pleased with herself. Mission complete. Then as if remembering something, she turned back, "don't get too cocky. I might feel the need for killing you again."

"Momentary elation, miserable ever after. Trust me on this, Claire," he relaxed back. There was no threat. Not while that blond hottie was looking at him like that.

Tbc

Chapter 14: Experimental Condition

Claire set out to talk to Peter with the intention of finding out what he had thought of the recent developments, but she ended up literally backtracking, fearing she was intruding into his intimacy. It wasn't as much that her uncle and Emma was hugging each other tight, their bodies smoothly following the contour of one another, but the fact that Peter had his head buried in her chest in a more crestfallen, rather than sexed way. Guessing that perhaps mind reading worm him out again to an extent he needed to take comfort in his friend in peace, Claire decided she would be best waiting till later with her inquiries. The door however, did not cooperate with her plan and caused both a creaking noise and a gust of wind, alerting the pair to her presence.

Peter straighted up at once, and drew away from his blond, his hand moving down from her back to grasp her hand instead. "Not wanting to come forward till the last minute to offer his help, I don't blame Sylar for it one bit. You won't believe what they wanted to do to Emma just because she was seen on screen in here caring for Sylar. I expected we would have lack of privacy anywhere we go for a while, being surrounded by reporters and anything we do labeled newsworthy, be it holding hands like this or going to the lavatory! I did not expect they would stick their heads into her past and belitter her on grounds they have no idea about, interrogate her on what hidden agendas the worlds' so called saviors might have, or question her loyalties to her profession while completely disregarding her disability and not even allowing her enough time to understand the questions, nor give her the chance to answer something to all those inquiries! No, they make up their minds all by themselves! And then they scare her, almost suffocate her, give her no escape!"

"Calm down, Peter!" Emma turned his face in line with hers for a moment. She could not understand his every word, but it was obvious he was too worked up for his own good.

He nodded and sighed, taking her request on board by continuing on a calmer voice, "making a long story short, I had to borrow one of the prisoners' psychokinesis and go down to rescue her."

"They were not happy," Emma assured, half proud with her hero, half disturbed with the whole ordeal, "so much for a normal life."

"Claire," Peter started gravely, "I have no intentions of living my life tripping over statues of myself and being continuously asked to perform miracles that I either have no power over, or the recipient would not deserve. We have to stop this lunacy! It would be the right thing to do, for all involved. That is why me and Emma are planning to leave. She could change her hairstyle, I would take shapeshifting and we would lay low for a while."

Her niece shook her head vehemently, "you can not leave Sylar as the sole hero out in the open. It'll make matters worse, not better."

"Who do you think I'm planning to acquire shapeshifting ability from? We could offer him the same thing and take him with us. I have all the security codes necessary from when I had mind reading. Busting him out is no problem. It only leaves one question unopened. Are you coming?"

Claire did not hesitate. What would she leave behind? A fallen apart family? Individuals she could not connect to, no matter how she tried? The goals and choices of people that were different than her? It has been a long while since it felt like anything other than void was around her. "Anywhere. But how we gonna do it? We're surrounded by the helicopters, vans and buses of media crews. I bet some orbiting satellites would be tuned into this direction too. My dad would have some tabs on just in case and I have no idea where Hiro is."

"It's disguising that cheerleader body of yours that could be our biggest problem," Emma ventured.

"It's not as if you could have plastic surgery," Peter agreed, although jokingly. It seemed that his girlfriend's presence made him more lax to allow his contemplative and serious-minded nature such lightness. "I wouldn't worry about any of it. We'll have Sylar, with an arsenal of abilities I can choose from," he continued on the same laid-back, humorous tone, perhaps wanting to make the ladies feel more relaxed about their impending venture. He had to get them out of there, for their own good, so the how didn't really matter as much.

tbc

Chapter 15: Major Distance

Two weeks later

"I guess the people who said living in the mountains meant more snow were serious!" Peter joked again as he turned away from the window and towards Emma so it was easier for her to lipread him.

She smiled back at him, the glint in her eyes showing her joyfulness more than any sound could. It was certainly the snowiest either of them has ever seen, up there in the Carpathian Mountains of East Europe. With the air crispy given the low temperatures, the view seemed endless, and the bright snow a constant factor. The other was the motionless quiet, the vastness of the scenery settling on their souls the same way for both, undisturbed by colorful sound waves, or auditory interference.

The scenery was breathtaking, yet it had little to do with the peace that resided over Peter's mind. To share this experience with who he felt could complement him, his soulmate, was everything. Emma marveled at him instead. She had never seen him so untroubled and peaceful, with a smile that never left his warm, deep brown chocolate eyes. Emma knew it couldn't last. With her by his side, or not, he would get restless sooner or later, fly off on some cause that deserved his attention, some dispute that endangered lives. She wouldn't have come to love him if it wasn't him of course, kind, accepting, bold and sensitive. But right now, she had him, strong arms around her waist, secure and protective, away from temptations and the chaos of the world.

As if responding to an unseen signal they leaned towards each other at the same time. Their lips met in a sweetly frantic union, combining love and lust and meaning. The blond parted her mouth, asking silently for more. Tongues caressed one another and she could feel him going bolder, hands exploring, shaft hardening.

Yet he was still caressing lightly, wandering down agonizingly slow. Emma moaned instinctively, the sound leaving her mouth naturally. His sensual touch was a language that did need no hearing. His palms reached the bottom of her short dress and slid under, stroking her hips, with a tentative assent towards her breasts. He was tracing the line of her contour gently, making it obvious that their encounter will not be as unrestrained and famished as their other times had been.

She took on his pace, beginning to trail her lips lazily along his jaw and sensitive earlobes, till she could whisper, "loving the touch," making the extra effort to vocalize her feelings for his benefit.

So when they momently parted to pull each other hand in hand towards the spacious bed close to the crackling fire of the chalet's many bedrooms, he couldn't keep the silly, doting smile off his face. She was so considerate, appreciative and virtuous, as much regarding her moral grounds as she was in intimate relations. Beautiful, inside out, there was no other word for it. Therefore it came pretty natural to him that when they sat down on the covers he used his momentarily free hands and signed the almost only expression he knew how to in sign language: I love you.

Emma reciprocated with a hug, just leaning her forehead against his chest for a while and Peter got reminded again of how she could express things wordlessly a lot better than anyone not deaf. Her embrace felt making love in itself, only it was so much more. Eagerness boiled in him as a result and he dropped his head onto her shoulder to kiss the sensitive skin of her neck. Trying to be patient did not work. He had to have her now. Grabbing under her thighs, he pulled her onto his lap with her long legs around his waist.

His eyes shone with an arousal she could not ignore that she reacted to by helping him get rid of both his shirt and her dress and cupping his buttocks to pull herself closer still. Every other sense of hers than hearing was more sensitive than average, she liked the way he tasted and parts of her skin grew even more erogenous as he moved his lips to continue down to her breasts, where his tongue enticed her till her nipples were as hard as his own erection.

Urgency sweeping down their nerve endings, fingers searched for fingers, skin was seeking out skin, hearts making an excited leap in speed. His thumb slipped into her panties from the side and she nearly shot up and off him when she touched her spot out of the blue. She willed herself to press against his hand instead, moist warmth signaling her need.

He would never deny her anything. Even if he was nearly loosing it, he was wanting to give her enjoyment as much as he desired his own. He focused his attention on the delicate bundle of nerves of her clitoris, pressing, teasing, experimenting to find the right chords with her willing help.

Her open personality did not disappoint. She led him, moving into his touch, rocking as if to give him pointers. He was so close to where she wanted him to be, but not close enough. On a sudden impulse that craved for satisfaction, she reached between them and pulled his fiery, compliant cock out his jogging bottoms. Jumping into place as if housebroken, the straining, slick tip of his shaft slid over the surface of her clit and she became the most naturally vocal once again...

tbc

Chapter 16: Saturation Point

Their eyes met in a nervous look and Sylar was not one bit more relaxed, than Claire. Ever since they have arrived into the mountains and rented two spacious rooms in the chalet, they both knew and feared it would come to this. The room overlooking the cable car wires was supposed to be for the men, Peter and Sylar, and the one adjacent, with a better view of the solemn and respectable slopes of the largely untouched Carpathian peeks was going to be used by Emma and Claire.

Of course the doctor-paramedic couple had no reason to cling to any pretence of false morality and sooner, rather than later, the ex cheerleader and the ex killer found themselves on an unheated, freezing corridor in front of a locked door late at night. Sylar certainly had a key to enter, but given the way those two lovers gazed into each other's eyes, and those stolen, hungry kisses, it was very unlikely Peter would appreciate his roommate's presence and missing out on a romantic night with his girlfriend.

So there they were, former enemies, standing silently, sharing a look of uncertainly and questions, a wordless tug of war, where each was trying to figure out which one of them was more uncomfortable with the prospect of the most feasible option, that they would spend the night in each other's company.

Not having the luxury of being able to touch her, unless he used some see through excuse, Sylar had to wonder what he saw in her eyes. In the dim light he could barely see the twinkle of her green iris, so was he right when he suspected that her apprehensive awareness of what she was getting herself into was overpowered by a certain defiance, a sense of adventure and excitement? At no moment in time did Sylar think she was going to get a flash of the old Claire who was going to run away.

Instead, the young woman smiled. Not at him, more like to herself. It was that sexy, assured cheerleader grin that could be so annoying to people with not much self confidence.

Yes, it was instantly perfectly clear. Claire had welcomed the opportunity. She was going to have her way with her boogeyman, strip him of his status as such and chastise him with all her heart's desire.

The little blond fished her own keys to her own room out from her bag, opened the door to step in and left the entrance wide open. Sylar followed her in with a devotion one might call fanatical. But if he was to hope for an ever after with her, a settling of scores had to happen next.

Hands in his pockets, a little bit on the insecure side, he ambled in tow slowly, but willingly to find that Claire had sat down on the side of her bed, turned away from him and she seemed to be busy with sorting out the contents of her handbag without minding to take a look into his direction. Her ignorance was only half conscious, she was not quite ready to deal with him just yet.

For a while, Sylar was unsure what he was meant to do, so he seated himself on the other bed as well and waited. His ability packed mind started working on the answer as if by himself though, and his by now well advanced telekinesis from afar has started to move and fly a number of objects into the room without a sound.

Claire had finally managed to use her hankies to rub the accidental perfume spillage off the rest of the contents of her bag skilfully, as it was not the first time she had managed to have the same cologne accident. When she turned to take her extra cardigan off as the room had been heated even in their absence and felt snug and cosy, she was faced with an unexpected sight.

Little miss miracle grow was not fazed by many things, but her movements froze and she became vaguely aware of her mouth opening for a silent gasp as she barely managed not to step on the arsenal of items on the carpet before her. Sylar had laid down on his back onto Emma's bed, exposing a bare chest, while a multitude of weapons were laid out at Claire's feet, from small arms to knives and spears, even a club, a light machine gun and a shard of glass that he knew she could utilize well from previous experience.

"I thought you wanted to punish the bogeyman personally. I'm simply saving you the trouble of having to hunt me down," Sylar shrugged as way of explanation.

"Of course," Claire rolled her eyes, "and you're just gonna lie there and let me."

"Well, that is the purpose. Maybe that is the only way for you to trust me again, evidence that I know I deserve your anger."

She looked at him in astonishment, "and you think you could ever pay for the pain you caused me?"

"Claire. You know you want to punish me. You should punish me then. Whether it's going to be harsh enough or not, that is beside the point. You need it. I need it. I need you to punish me."

"Hm! So that is what all this is about? Your needs, your redemption, means for you to feel better?" Her breathing became more rapid and her eyes misted over a little in exasperation as she grabbed a thick, curved dagger on impulse at his brazenness to suppose he could make up for killing her birth parents. "See how this makes you feel better!" She leaped over and buried the blade into his belly with a hideous squelch.

She was as startled as him when the dagger struck true, not just by the fact that she had actually carried through, but by how easy it was. Her momentum buried the blade into his body nearly to the hilt.

Sylar hissed at first, trying to hold the scream in, but then shrieked in pain, a disturbing, stabbing noise, so surprisingly human and victimlike that the quite inexperienced attacker panicked and held onto the dagger to try to free it, working it back and forth.

Apparently, sticking the weapon into him was easier, than taking it out and she caused further agony instead of allowing him some chance of healing. Emma's covers were soaking in blood and Claire felt a pang of guilt at ruining them. The little blond heaved upwards, feeling the relatively wide blade rip through soft tissue, organs and skin. Instantaneously, she realized there was something to be said about not feeling pain when injured. She finally managed to yank the weapon free and a fair amount of red liquid was flowing out his mouth as a result.

She drew in a relieved breath and watched idly as his wound started to close from the inside out and a pink, babyish coloured skin appeared. No, that wasn't right. It was not just that the colour did not suit the killer, but it reminded her how it was a stolen ability. Maybe he was right. Did he not deprive her of her illusions? A normal way of growing up? Having a relationship with her birth parents or father? A relaxed existence? Everything that was once important for her? And put it like that, she should not keep back from punishing him only because he offered the chance for her to do so himself.

And before he could fully recover and find his voice, she stuck the knife into his right thigh, pushing once again as far as she could, letting him know that the bloodletting was far from over. She was more calculated this time, she choose to target dense flesh that would hurt, but would not impede his ability to answer questions or indeed miss any pain by passing out or dying. She put quite a lot of effort into it and only stopped when the tip of the blade struck something solid, presumably bone.

"Where is your weak spot at the moment?" She leaned down to whisper into his ears. Of course he could've kept relocating it if he could concentrate somewhat, but if he told her and it was true, that would've been a real opening of trusting relations. Sylar blinked at length and was she correct when she thought he blushed a little, even with the bloodloss?

The ability collector tried to get a grip over his shape shifting ability. It wasn't one he liked to use and therefore he was out of practice. He finally looked down and waved a hand in the general direction of his middle as he had to reveal the secret, momentarily not being able to move his weak point. "I was assuming nobody would really try to run through me with anything in the…" He panted, "you know…" He looked tormented, although not for the physical reasons one might think.

Claire's eyes widened as she processed the realization. She smiled at first and a small, uncharacteristical titter followed, "you don't mean your balls?"

Sylar shook his head, "killing me would only work if somebody'd cut my stick off."

The girl looked at him for a while, as if to say, are you serious, then started laughing hysterically with sheer amusement at the weirdness of it all. A prime example of how their whole lives was a lunacy given their abilities, she thought.

The blade cut through him, surprising him once more even though the change of tone and pace of her laugh should've alerted him to her fury, more directed towards her own freakshow existence, than him when she violently stabbed him in between his ribs, under his ribs, more shallow this time so that she could pull the blade out easily and stab him again and again and again.

Tears welled up in his eyes from the pain and the powerlessness to do anything against the woman. He would not dare, he couldn't rebel against what was his outstanding punishment. Mercy would not solve their relationship. He would've preferred if she used the machine gun right enough and made him die quicker.

She cried as well plunging the dagger into his chest again and again, her silent weeping turning into a flood when finally she shed those well needed and overdue tears over her losses that she attributed to Sylar. She sobbed and howled and cried out thrusting the weapon into his heart, not minding it was the forth time and he was well overkilled, unconscious at best and getting cold from bloodloss and the inability to regenerate as consequent damage happened too soon.

Her cuts got shallower though as her emotions got the better of her and her body cramped up with their sheer force. She pulled back and into herself, dagger dropping to the floor and rolling over on the carpet, making another bloody mess. It brought her back to reality. What would Emma think of the state of the room and what she had done? What would Peter think in fact. She sniffed and dabbed her tears with her palms, noting that her make up was in a similar state to the room and that she must've just covered her face with blood as well from her hands. His blood.

When she finally stopped crying a few minutes later, she realized how satisfied she actually felt. Those killed could not be resurrected, so why did she feel so good? But one thing for sure, she needed that, all of it.

Almost impatiently, she watched him start to heal with a frown. Was it only because she was feeling a little guilty and wanted the wounds inflicted by her to disappear, or was it really that his regeneration was slower than hers?

He groaned as he came to, still fuzzily disorientated against the pain of the knitting together tissue and skin. His vision filled with the blond leaning over him, tousled, messy and sticky, with red eyes from crying, her clothes stained. Yet she appeared composed. She stared right into his clearing eyes and when she thought him conscious enough, she mumbled something. She must've misjudged it though, as his head was too heavy still for his ears to distinguish the roaring in them from articulated words.

"Go on, punish me more," he encouraged her. He could take it and was ok with it, if that was what she was enquiring, even if his voice sounded like a whimper.

Claire took a quick, shuddering breath. Kicking his ass had been a very fulfilling occupation. She was almost loosing her self-control again at the bold encouragement. The young woman had always thought of herself as a person in her right mind, with good, as well as common sense and a non-judgemental attitude. She had her revenge, as it was, the moment had passed, her emotions had calmed and there was no valid reason for her to continue, unless she'd have to accept a view of herself as cruel.

Instead, she sniffed, cleared her throat and mind to repeat her heartfelt "thank you for that." that he did not hear. "The more I think about it, the more that was necessary to clear the air between us."

"So…" He sat up slowly, gingerly, straightening carefully so as not to disturb his continuously healing wounds, but noted with some pleasure that although there still was some straining and twinges, everything was working and he was no longer bleeding. He looked down on himself, just to check, running a hand along his front. His clothes were completely ruined, with blood stains and gashes, both his trousers and his shirt, even though he had previously unbuttoned it. Through the holes, you could see new, pink skin forming, looking so unnatural against his pale complexion. "Are you finished punishing me?"

"Temporarily," Claire admitted.

"Promise me to take it out on me whenever you feel like it, rather than wait till you wanna kill me or go gung ho again?" He asked quietly, his breathing still laboured.

"Oh, anytime," she replied off handedly as if it would've been a minute matter. In fact, she was distracted by watching him closely. "Sylar, are you all right? I thought you have recovered from the extreme exhaustion thing caused by powers overuse. You don't seem to be healing fast enough."

He looked up, trying to work though the misty haze in front of him to look into her eyes. What did that expression mean? She couldn't be worried about him? Care for his wellbeing? No. Well, maybe? Once again, he felt the need to touch her, not only because he always wanted to, but because it would've given him insight into her feelings and desires through Lydia's gift. "I'm…I'm fine. I just don't like to use certain abilities around you."

"How very considerate of you," Claire rolled her eyes with sarcasm, "I'm a tough girl, remember?"

"Interesting how no matter how hard you try, you can never please some people," Sylar replied half seriously. It has certainly been the life story of Gabriel, never being able to be good enough.

Claire however, never knew Gabriel Gray and therefore attributed the comment as nothing more, than banter, "can we miss out the hostility just for once and cut right to the chase?" Reaching a hand up to pull his head towards her a little, she swiftly kissed him, pressing her mouth against his with a crashing force of nature, taking, pulling, sucking his lips into hers.

It had been a rather innocent clumsiness that her tongue probed his mouth with, but Sylar did not notice. He was in shock from her kiss, not to mention his lack of many different girlfriends that left him passionate, but inexperienced. His taste buds vaguely registered the tang of blood, his own blood that had splattered onto her lips and conveyed onto his through wrestling tongues.

Although her actions had caught him off guard, he was soon trading wet, passionate kisses, sensing the surge of heat that passed between them and enveloped them, suggesting they shared a lot more than an abiding ability. Feeling her finally starting to pull away, his lips reached out and touched hers one more time, a shy kiss brushing gently across her mouth with a gentleness she would've never thought him capable of. "You play rough, you know that?"

Claire slid close, tangling her legs with his, pulling into his strong, manly arms. Nothing could protect her from getting close to him.

tbc

Chapter 17: Punishments and Rewards

"Have you thought of any other ways of punishing me?" Sylar asked teasingly, stretched out beside his new roommate. His masterful hands caressed her naked back lightly and stroked her hair softly with a tender lover's touch, making her feel treasured and lulled into the afterglow of their delicate, but passionate love making. She was so beautiful and lovable, inside out and her noble, determined strength of mind could put him to shame any day. He will not disappoint her, or himself however, will cage his inborn ability, along with his incredible desire to claim her, confirm her as his. He knew he couldn't rush her into anything as important as that.

He had noticed her momentary hesitation to answer, but wasn't sure if it was a good or a bad thing. Perhaps one day she will decide he had paid for his sins, although it would be silly to think it would come this soon. Hopefully she was not fed up with her domination game yet. Instinctively pulling her closer to him, he was about to use Lydia's ability to find out the answer to his questions when he looked down to realize that whatever she was too deep in thought thinking of she did by daydreaming in his cock's direction.

Her hands moved to caress places she became very accustomed with down in the forest of his body hair. It did not take long to wake his still lingering sensations and turn them into invigorating desire. She did not do much else, than touch and rub, yet the fact that it was her doing things to him made him feel so vibrant that there were no words to put it into. He could not let her know how much he depended on her though, he had to have that much dignity left.

He couldn't smother a groan in time nonetheless as the young woman's fingers tightened around his cock to push it roughly and suddenly against his stomach. Sharp nails scratched along the underside and she climbed over him to bounce down on his belly with all her little, but sudden weight. Air was forced out his lungs and he winced painfully, trying to breathe.

"You've asked for punishment, haven't you?" Claire reminded him. She had that look, ever prettier when intoxicated by power, the one where he ended up all sore and bleeding and not mind it one bit. She had acquired predatory confidence so well and so quickly as if it would've belonged to her in the first place. He looked up at her with anticipation of the pain, wondering what she had in store for him now.

"So does that make you all hot and bothered? Confusing pleasure with pain, are we?" Claire noticed his cock move a little despite her efforts to keep the little mister trapped. It seemed like it had a mind of its own as it grew stiff and hard and ready to fill her.

It also gained his attention for the moment as it was throbbing, captive, so much it hurt him. A good kind of pain, that brought them closer, vibrations adding to the pleasure, "oh, yes, mistress," he answered eagerly, "you're wonderfully desirable this morning, mistress."

"Thank you, baby. Behave and you can eat me later as a treat," the Bennet girl teased, licking her lips. While the blond was absolutely sure now that Sylar did not eat brains, nor other body parts, she also knew how stimulating his wavy tongue was.

"I'd like that," he choked out, feeling her pussy hot and wet against his lower abdomen.

"How badly is it you want me really?" She leaned closer, her hot breath moving his chest hair softly, sending shivers through his uncovered body. She wanted to hear the confirmation that he was powerless and helpless, that he was a fiend that only responded to her persona, tamed to please his master. But he gave her no such vocal satisfaction. Instead, he raised his arm with the truth revealing tattoo of her face on it, now finer in size than it has ever been. His destiny was Claire, big time.

Indestructible girl smiled sweetly, her eyes shining a deep green emerald from up close. They seemed filled with unruliness before she bit into his bottom lip firmly, as if she would've wanted to rip it off, "you didn't answer me properly yet."

The bogeyman whimpered softly at the sharp, painfully pleasurable sensation, "yes, mistress." He gave his lips a lick over just to make sure that he was regenerating as he should be.

Claire let out a noise reminiscent of purring. She loved it when his eyes got so glassy and unfocussed from pain and yearning. He was breathtakingly sexy when appearing vulnerable. Her tongue leading the way as she slid it out between her lips, the Barbie girl reached his smooth right ear and bit into it too, punishing the bad man further, like he deserved.

Damage was minimal comparing to what he had endured at one or another time in his life, including what she had already inflicted upon him, he could've taken it motionless and not even flinching, but he knew she liked the show and he went with the momentary discomfort and hissed.

Their relative position shifted slightly as he writhed and his warm, hard cock slipped inside her. Sylar froze. He wasn't supposed to do anything his mistress did not command him to. "I'm sorry, mistress…" He started, but the gorgeous young woman on top of him chuckled, an energetic, invigorating sound.

"Punishments later," Claire breathed, slow and low, wriggling herself to accommodate him inside herself. She looked down at him with an expression that told she knew he was hers to do as she pleased, "reward now." Lowering herself, she nipped at his over kissed, red, swollen lips encouragingly, every bit of her throbbing with the same desire as her moist pussy. She jerked her hips forward repeatedly at the same time, assuring he knew exactly what she wanted.

A flicker of bewilderment passed through his face, "did you forget your own game?" The pressure on top of him was maddeningly good, penetration deep, her full, rounded breasts bouncing against his chest. Their connection was so intense that regardless of their earlier lovemaking, he had to withstand the urge not to cum at once. He met her sensual motion with thrusts and twists, unerring in providing just the right pressure at just the right point as he used Lydia's gift to read her exact, momentary needs. His telekinesis tugged her up and down slightly as his hips arched up, leaving his hands free to work her breasts and vaginal lips.

She had a wide grin on as she breathed, "just like that…"

Chapter 18: Figure of Speech

Across the wall, in the room adjacent, Claire was idly making paths in the forest of Sylar's chest hairs with her index finger. Here she was, lying in bed beside the sleeping beast and she was only weirded out by the fact she did not feel weirded out. The young beauty mostly found these moments when he was deep asleep and she wasn't, slightly awkward as a result, times when his fine tuned to little Claire Bennet empathy by touch was dormant along with the rest of him, not at the ready to meet her every need, let that be the soap bar, an impassioned assault of her mouth, providing a punchbag for one of her fits, or being left alone with her swirling thoughts.

A few weeks ago, Claire had left the States a virgin, a condition she had kept to because, circumstances or not, there has never been anyone she could give herself fully over to. It would've involved a certain trust, being able to be comfortable with the venture, and last, but not least, clinging to the illusion of herself as daddy's little girl in the bubble, that in reality had burst years ago. But most importantly it was because nobody had so far ignited the need in her for intimacy, beyond the experimental touches and kisses.

The immortal blond gazed down at the virtually naked, gorgeous man she could call hers. Sylar had been trying hard to please her, sway her, charm her, a little too much perhaps. Claire had stopped doubting his feelings for her very soon after their arrival in Europe and as soon as that was clear, so it was the fact that it was her responsibility to keep the hiding monster away from the full moon, perhaps for eternity.

The indestructible girl wasn't happy about it, not at first. Her physical attraction she could easily discount as too nonrational, as everything hormonal normally would be. Destiny, she could not.

It has been once prophesized that saving the cheerleader would save the world and so far, that claim did not seem to mean anything in any form, no matter in what perspective she looked at it. She had never saved the world, directly, or indirectly. Instead, she was still puzzled by the idea of this important person she was supposed to be. But didn't Sylar say he had stopped the asteroid mainly for her? Wouldn't he kick the holy hell out of anything any time that had threatened her or what was important for her? Not to mention, saving the world from the mass killer Sylar could count as well.

Studying her lover, (lover?? When did she start thinking of Sylar that way? And why did it not take much getting used to?), she had to notice how relaxed he seemed, breathing soft and his features calm, so far from his tortured look from the facility and that of the obsessed and focussed appearance of the serial killer's she was starting to forget existed. With the positive effects of the calmness residing within him when she was with him, sleeping seemed to make his face look further seductively vulnerable, accentuated by the pale glow of his skin against his long, dark eyelashes and body hair. Vulnerable, like she had learned he really was, easily thrown by past ghosts and fighting with his biggest enemy, himself. Claire wondered whether it was only that she wanted to see him vulnerable, or was it the truth. If he was the weak one, she did not have to feel afraid. Her brow furrowed when thinking about the possibilities that lay within the darkness of his mind, but her concern focussed more on what the world could bestow upon them, like it did before.

They had been through so much, relatively young and barely scratching the surface of their long, immortal lives in length, and Claire had a feeling the future was only going to get more complicated. It wouldn't matter as much now, not when they had each other. Settling against the smooth skin of his hips, her fingers were wondering automatically and had covered his entire muscled upper body by now. Smiling about her own mischievous nature that she inflicted on an unsuspecting, sleeping man, she couldn't resist the urge to run her palm under the covers and round his dormant cock to test how long did it take till she got some kind of response.

His member felt snug and warm between her fingers and she noted with pleasure that she didn't have to start from the beginning. Perhaps it was her earlier, idle ministrations, or simply her closeness, but he was already half aroused.

She paused, her hand coming to a halt at the base of his penis, caught up in what was before her eyes. Claire could only guess, but her presumption was that not every manhood looked as inviting and perfect, thick and long and with wide veins running along it and she knew it was a kind she loved. With the taunting view, it took some concentration for her to start moving her hand to grasp him and rub the sensitive flesh gently, only wanting to wake his manhood, but not the whole of him. Her gaze did not waver though and a surge of excitement went through her when she saw his cock quivering through its full length as if a wave would've passed along it.

He sighed in his sleep, hardening and strained reflexively to thrust into her touch when suddenly his eyes opened to look at her. She would never know how his gaze could be so deep even when freshly awakened.

"Enough…" He breathed out. It was intended as a command, but the way she messed with him, a moan was all he could manage.

She looked up at him only for a millisecond. "How? Some other body parts of yours seem to think otherwise," she teased.

"Not like that." This time he got himself together so that he could voice it like on order, like what he would expect from himself. He raised himself on an elbow to kiss her pink lips gently before he tasted her. It was the sweet and innocent expression of his love for her, but oh, how intense a tiny motion could be!

"That is not how you make love, little Claire," he turned to press against her and when his hot, hard length pressed insistently against her stomach she knew that her teasing job was done and they were fully in business.

She let out a small moan of appreciation at the hardness pressing into her skin and pushed herself against his erection more. Sylar shook his head with a sinning grin and used his kinetic ability to slide her body a little down under him so that the head of his cock was now pressing to her mound all of a sudden. "This is how you make love. If you want to," he teased.

"Oh, god, yes," she breathed, threading her fingers into his long hair to pull his mouth onto her again. Strong arms enfolded her into their warm protection, tender and needy at the same time. The sweet, soft, wet warmness of his lips came down on her beautiful white breasts, caressing and lightly squeezing both till her entire body responded, making her melt into liquid too. She rocked and arched and melted into him, finding how it increased the pleasure.

Sylar reached down, touching her with the assurance of an experienced couple. Two weeks in a small room spent together was a long time. A little on the rough side, he bit into her skin, while circling her clit with a couple of pressing fingers, making her hover in between pleasure and pain. She wanted it bad, he did need no empathic ability to determine that.

Her thinking became hazy, she found it hard to talk, or even formulate a conscious thought. But before she was lost in the moment, desperate to stop with the messing about and have him inside her, she had finally decided that normalcy was overrated. She could not swim against the current regarding her ability as much as she could not deny her feelings for Sylar. How could she ever imagine herself living with a regular Joe? Repeating the same boring life over and over?

Their lives stretched out before her with superb possibilities for the first time and his "I love you"s between kisses made her feel free. It had never been about forgiveness. It was about love.

The End.