Fic: Becoming (Chapter 2)
Cold chills raced up and down her spine; nerve-endings aflame beneath every touch he laid upon her and yet this time she craved more. Her hands gripped at his waist, then splayed over his lower back as she pushed them upward, taking in the solid feel of lean muscle beneath his shirt. Aching lungs screamed for air, but with one sweep of his lips, he relieved the burning pressure in her chest. The water she knew must have been cold, but she couldn’t feel it. Claire knew the whole experience with Alex should feel familiar; she’d replayed this kiss over in her head a million times already, but this time it was different.
After parting slightly, soft lips moved to claim hers again and another wash of life energized her. Strong arms came up around her, pulling her closer. She gasped into the nothingness around them before slipping her hands up into his hair. The water made her vision blurred and hazy, but she could appreciate the defined dark features even if not in minute detail. Her fingers laced through dark hair; Claire moved to kiss him back. As her lips crossed his, a low, unfamiliar groan escaped him.
Suddenly she found herself locked in his embrace, air almost forced from her lungs as he kissed her breathless. Quickly she became lost in a world where only touch and taste existed, and then their watery surrounding melted away. Now she could hear the effect she was having on him, but only barely above the sound of her own heart pounding loudly in her ears. His breathing was ragged and rushed, and his hands felt like they were everywhere at once. He wasn’t alone. The muffled moan that echoed back to her ears could have sounded foreign to her had she not felt it bubble up inside her own throat before escaping. She slid her hands free of his hair, and slowly downward to rest either side of his face.
Coarse stubble scratched at her fingertips and it was only then that her raw sense of touch set off alarm bells. Claire’s eyes flew open to find not the familiar sight of Alex before her as expected, but someone she barely recognised if not for the familiar, innocent, deep brown eyes staring back at her. Innocence didn’t belong there. Shaking her head in horror, she backed away.
‘You….’
***
Claire’s eyes flew open as if she’d just been burned. Taking a second to compose herself, she registered where she was and what was going on. She glanced to her left, registering Sylar’s presence and then over her shoulder only to see Luke’s legs outstretched on the back seat. Since being relegated to the back, he’d taken up a position behind her on the passenger side. After Sylar’s demonstration in the alley, he hadn’t outwardly protested to her being present, or at least, not so far. They’d been driving in silence for over an hour when she’d been aware of her eyelids becoming heavy. Rolling her eyes, she turned to stare out of the window again.
‘Hot?’
Sylar’s calm monotone broke the silence and startled her. She tried her best to sound collected as she replied, ‘Excuse me?’
‘Wherever you went just then,’ he clarified.
Was he messing with her mind? Shaking her head before she could even decide upon her answer, Claire didn’t know what she found more disturbing; Sylar having the first clue about what she’d just been thinking, or Sylar having an innocent, normal conversation with her. Both concepts, she decided, were freaking her out equally.
‘Where are we going?’ she asked in an attempt to change the subject.
‘I have some things to take care of,’ Sylar began, tone managing to avoid betraying his enjoyment at tormenting her. ‘It doesn’t concern you.’
With a sigh, Claire summoned what little patience she had and yet again changed the subject.
‘So, who’s the kid?’ she asked airily, never once turning to look in his direction.
A mild shuffle from the back told her Luke was still awake too.
‘This coming from Goldilocks,’ he scoffed at her.
‘What’s wrong, Claire? Jealous of somebody else getting all the attention?’
Sylar’s question cut her off before she could return fire toward the back seat.
‘I swear to GOD, if there weren’t bigger things going on right now, I’d…’ Claire fumed, returning to silence for fear of doing something he’d be sure to regret.
Sylar’s expression gave way to mild amusement at her quiet outburst, all too aware that she’d barely managed to reign in her reaction.
‘What you’d like to do to me aside, there are bigger things going on here. Things that don’t always have to concern you.’
The car travelled in silence another twenty minutes or so before Luke spoke up,
‘Can we stop for food? There’s a place a few miles up the road.’ He gestured to a road sign that quickly came and went. His words fell on deaf ears. With a stroppy sigh, he leaned back in his seat, though even Claire caught his muttered, ‘Even serial killers gotta eat.’
A glance in Sylar’s direction told her he had heard too. She watched his knuckles whiten as his grip tightened on the steering wheel. With no wish to push him any further, she sat in silence for ten full minutes watching the scenery roll by. It was only when the lights of a diner on the horizon caught her attention that she decided to break the tension and try and diffuse the situation.
‘Actually I could use something to eat,’ she said airily, hoping he’d bite without much effort on her part. When his expression softened, she could tell he was listening. Leaning toward him only slightly, she lowered her voice; the male ego could be a fragile thing. ‘Come on, just twenty minutes.’
Loathed to stop at all, Sylar sighed heavily, only turning the wheel at the last possible second to park haphazardly. He slid from behind the wheel with a fluidity that drew Claire’s attention. She found her eyes fixed on the point where the black shirt creased between his shoulder-blades. The depth and smooth movement of muscle beneath was almost hypnotic, even if only lasting a second or two. Seeing him in a more everyday situation made her wonder about him. At times he could look so normal, like any other guy she could pass on the street. Not one hell bent on killing and acquiring abilities.
‘Finally!’ Luke exclaimed with trademark sarcasm, breaking Claire’s reverie.
With a sigh, her eyes dropped from Sylar as he walked past paying her no mind. The car door slamming was the only reply Luke received as they filed into the small diner in search of dinner.
Sylar led the way, instinctively seeking out a booth near the back with Luke close behind. She kept a small distance between them as she watched Sylar take up a position that allowed him clear vantage over the entire place, including the only entrance. He hadn’t made it this far by being careless. Luke took up a seat opposite and with far less concern than his mentor, snatched up a menu.
She leaned over the table, brushing close to Luke and deliberately keeping her distance from Sylar. He clasped one hand around the fist his other had formed somewhat defensively, covering the lower half of his face, eyes never leaving the door. She could tell he was already counting the seconds until seclusion was his again. ‘I’ll be right back.’
Straightening up to her full height, Claire shrugged out of the small hooded top she’d liberated back in the city and tossed it into the seat beside Luke. The T-shirt underneath was tighter than she would have ever chosen for herself, and the jeans a little longer, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.
The younger teenager’s head whipped around to see her walk purposefully toward the counter, offering the middle-aged woman serving a bright smile. Luke watched her spark up conversation with the woman over his shoulder for a few seconds before turning back to Sylar. ‘I’m guessing daddy didn’t approve?’ he asked with a grin.
Sylar merely cocked an eyebrow slightly, but he didn’t look at him. For all intents and purposes, he maintained his diligent vigil just Luke would have expected of him. Against his own better judgement however, he found his eyes were no longer focused on the door.
‘She’s so obviously daddy’s little girl. What’s wrong, her daddy didn’t approve when the big, bad monster came calling on his daughter?’
With no regard to either confirming or denying the specifics in the boy’s hypothesis, Sylar replied, ‘She had something I wanted.’
‘I’ll bet she did,’ Luke shook his head and glanced down the menu in his hand again.
Once again, Sylar paid the conversation little attention. His eyes studied the cheerleader carefully, fully appreciating the changes that had taken place since their last meeting. She could slip in and out of character almost as easily as he could these days and he had to stop and wonder if he still knew which was truly hers. She’d become capable of so much more than he’d ever expected. It intrigued him, truth be told she always had.
‘So...’ The opener to his question fell flat for a long moment before the reply came.
The older man sighed and finally shifted his line of sight from Claire to the enquiring face watching him from across the table. ‘So?’
‘So how does someone like you know someone like her?’
Sylar glanced back toward the counter, intending to afford the answer more thought before divulging such information. After all, it wasn’t like him to share. His gaze found only the woman wiping down the counter down after a man in dark clothes took up a stool at the far end. The serving woman glanced in his direction looking mildly afraid, then her eyes returned to serving the man who had just sat down. Her movements were stilted and uneasy.
‘When I stand up, walk straight out the door and get into the car. Don’t look back,’ he ordered in a low tone.
Luke’s eyes grew wide. Without turning around, he instead followed his teachings and appeared to let his attention be swamped entirely by his menu. Appearing to pour over the contents, he looked over the top of it to the reflection in the window on his right side to see what Sylar was seeing. Where was Claire?
In one smooth motion, Sylar stood slowly and pushed the car keys across the table. As ordered, Luke did the same, picking up the keys in the process. Turning lazily on his heel he walked casually toward the exit. He had barely pressed a palm to the glass before the man in dark clothes cocked his head to the side, vaguely registering their movement. The door swung closed behind him, and it was only then that the stranger stood up to his full height and turned toward their booth, no doubt expecting to see Sylar following his young accomplice toward the exit. The coast, however, was clear.
The man reached for his ear, registering communication from the others he no doubt had with him. Sylar watched carefully from the alcove behind, having managed to hover momentarily behind the agent and successfully pass him by. There was a small turn at the end of the serving bar; a dimly lit passage leading to even dingier rest rooms. He didn’t stop to wonder if Luke had made it to the car as instructed, instead his entire focus was on their pursuer. With a satisfied smirk, he began to raise his hand.
‘Nuh uh,’ came a familiar voice, hissing impatiently in his ear.
The force with which her hand fisted in the back of his shirt, yanking him silently backward out of view caught him off-guard. It would have unsettled him had he not been so angered by her interruption.
‘Claire,’ he said, mocking tone successfully hiding the pang of relief he felt at locating her again, ‘you spoil my fun.’
Claire shoved him roughly in the direction of the small sinks behind the entrance. She returned to peering through the crack in the door, maintaining her vigil. ‘Whatever.’
Glancing around the dingy décor, Sylar eyed the pink, plastic flowers in an equally cheap vase sitting on a shelf over one of the sinks; a pathetic attempt at introducing cheer into such a dreary setting. He turned toward her, arms slightly outstretched in mock disgust at their surroundings. ‘Now’s not really the time for a quickie in the ladies room, Claire.’
Claire rolled her eyes in disgust, but didn’t turn around as she hissed back at him, ‘You sick freak!’
Sylar stepped up behind her, leaning deliberately close as he bent lower to see what she was seeing. Their agent friend was still in sight, but clearly mid-conversation with his entourage and none the wiser to their current location. ‘Flattery aside, I think now would be the opportune moment to get the hell outta here, wouldn’t you agree?’
Warm breath brushed against the side of her face as she felt him stand and walk away from her again. Suppressing a deep shiver, she turned to face him.
‘He’s alone,’ she revealed blankly. ‘The others are on their way, but he’s here alone.’
Sylar crossed his arms over his chest and leaned on the sink to his rear. ‘Ah, you’ve acquired the ability to read minds,’ he scoffed quietly.
‘Nothing quite so melodramatic,’ she offered with a sweet, but sarcasm-laid smile. ‘I heard him talking on his comm-radio-thing. He left the gents next door right as I came in here.’
Sylar looked thoughtful for a second, then stood and made to push past her. ‘That settles it then.’
Claire blinked for a second.
‘What?!’
His right hand was on her shoulder, shoving her aside as the other wrapped around the door handle.
‘Sylar!’ she hissed.
When it became apparent that he was paying her no heed, she snapped around and grabbed at the wrist of the hand on her shoulder. ‘Knock it off!’
He paused to look down at her, vague amusement evident at the notion that the cheerleader obviously thought she could stop him. Who knew she’d be right? When he didn’t release his grip on the door handle, she took it upon herself to seize that one as well, pulling his right toward her left until they stood without barriers in mock face-off with her standing between him and murder.
‘I’m only gonna give you one chance to let go, Claire.’ Vague amusement faded into darker anger and he flexed his hands held out at either side of him. Her grip only tightened on his wrists.
For a brief moment, Claire felt she was back in her parent’s house. The day she’d opened her room door to find him standing there with a grin of anticipation. He had made her a victim that day, and she hated him for it. Everything she’d pushed for since had been to become stronger; to make him pay for what he’d done to her; to hurt him. Sometimes it didn’t matter how much hatred she could muster; sometimes he was just her monster.
Sylar noticed the brief flicker of change in her eyes as he glared menacingly down at her, and then just as soon as it had shown itself, it was gone. Her eyes mirrored his, determined glare just as confident. He found the change in her almost hypnotic; her spirit, her energy; it had all evolved into something fierce radiating from her in waves. Eyes locked on hers, he felt the sparks dance up the back of his neck. She looked out of breath; maybe it was just fear. Everyone feared him these days, and he’d given them good reason.
There was a quiet shuffle outside the rest room door. Claire looked panicked and released Sylar’s wrists immediately. His left hand came up to press a finger to his lips in a calm gesture of ‘shh’; the other swept upward, fingers splayed wide with palm facing down toward the ground.
When the agent kicked the door in, it hit the sinks roughly and sent a loud clattering echo around the enclosed space. There were only three small cubicles; two with doors already open wide, the other was shut. The last was closest.
Claire was perfectly aware that the killer’s eyes were trained on the same target as hers, but she could feel the exertion coursing through him. She guessed she’d won out over his better instincts and on some level it felt reassuring to know she had some influence over him, some power. With that single wave of his hand, he’d used his telekinesis to lift her clear into the air. Now the ceiling of the rest room pressed firmly into her back. For a split second she’d thought he’d leave her there and go after the agent about to discover them, then with a deep breath he had launched himself upward into a position right beside her; right arm outstretched to press across her middle, palm still evidently pushing an invisible force toward the ground. The gesture could have been mistaken for a protective one, but Claire was sure it only served the mechanical purpose of his ability at that moment.
When the door of the last cubicle crashed open revealing nothing inside, the other man glanced around at head height briefly. Having no luck, he lowered his weapon and left the rest room.
Sylar’s brow was furrowed deep in concentration; less at the effort it took to hold them both in place, and more at the effort it took to suppress his hunger’s ever-present bloodlust. As the door closed and the footsteps died away, he took a few silent breaths to gather himself together. Gradually the sound of blood rushing in his ears subsided. He felt Claire shuffled slightly against his arm and wondered if he knew just how much she was wearing on his last thread of patience. Although only lasting a moment, the silence around them seemed to stretch out for long minutes. The only thing he seemed aware of fully was the way her abdomen pressed against the back of his arm; he could feel every new breath she took, smooth and without labour. Reluctantly he withdrew his arm and lowered them both toward the ground.
‘He’s outside!’
The agent’s voice rang out from the restaurant floor. Barely a second passed and they heard the harsh slamming of the diner door just on the other side of the wall. This time Sylar stepped forward to open the rest room door with no protest from Claire. Given the all clear, he stepped out into the passage and glanced over his shoulder signalling her to stay put. A few more steps and the roaring of a car engine bursting into life filled the air. With a brief screeching of tires, he detected the solo agent’s car leaving the parking lot in a hurry.
‘Are they gone?’ Claire asked, coming up quietly behind him.
Sylar systematically scanned the area with a likeness she could only compare to a hunter searching for its prey. Oddly enough, at that moment she could appreciate it. Seeming satisfied, he headed outside without a word. Claire followed, glancing back to offer an apologetic half-smile to the woman still behind the counter. The woman merely stared after them, eyes wide and Claire could already tell that with nobody else in the diner, she’d be closing up early tonight.
‘So,’ she began, ‘where to now? Where’s Luke?’
When no reply came, Claire scanned the parking lot to find Sylar standing a little way off from her current position with his back to her. He wasn’t moving. With a sigh of tired frustration, she started walking toward him.
‘Why are you just standing there?’
Claire watched his shoulders slump a little. He seemed to pause for effect, and then turned slowly to look at her. With a single, lazy gesture toward their surroundings, he dropped his hand to his side.
‘Nothing seems, oh I don’t know, a little off to you?’ he quipped.
With a quick glance around, Claire’s eyes fell onto the vacant space where their car had been, deep tire-width gouges in the mud the only sign that there had ever been a vehicle there at all. Doing her best to count to ten, she closed her eyes and swore silent obscenities she was sure could make even Sylar blush.
‘That’s what I thought,’ he responded quietly.
Another deep sigh later and she gathered herself together. Straightening up, she looked at him expectantly. An expression lacking in amusement met her in return.
‘Which direction?’ she asked matter-of-factly.
Sylar simply turned to face the opposite direction, looking off down the road they’d been headed down before stopping for food. It was better to work alone; he hadn’t even wanted to stop in the first place.
‘Come on,’ she huffed, deliberately bumping him as she overtook him in large strides. It was cold, it was dark and she wasn’t in the mood. If God truly existed, he was really trying her patience these days. ‘The others following him will be here soon.’
‘We should stay off the road,’ he offered constructively, falling into step a few strides behind her.
Without warning she made a sharp right and headed up the embankment covered in trees. It would take them away from the roadside and give them some cover should anyone else try and follow them. Fuming, she started swatting tree branches out of her way, aware that he was somewhere close behind. She had no idea just how close until she ever-gracefully put a foot out of place, slipping in some rain-sodden mud.
Strong hands came out of nowhere and gripped her waist, steadying her with a care she would have never expected of him. She stopped all movement, holding her breath to halt her equally as ungraceful gasps for air. Maybe he’d believe the incline was just that steep; being fair, in reality it was.
An awkward air descended over the pair quickly. Claire adjusted her footing carefully, hoping he’d avoid comment. Realising his grasp had lingered a little too long, he released her. Quickly, as if nothing had happened, she started making large strides up the slippery hill again, taking care as she went. Glancing down at his hands, Sylar doubted the excuse ‘it was just a reaction’ would float, even if it was the truth. Running a hand through increasingly dishevelled hair, he watched her briefly before lowering his head, muttering curses under his breath as he followed.
It was going to be a long night … for both of them.