Heroes, "Unwanted Company" Sylar, Claire | rated PG
Fandom: Heroes
Title: Unwanted Company
Author: Paynesgrey
Rating: PG
Characters: Sylar, Claire Bennet
Genre: Humor/Genfic
Word Count: 1,624
Warnings/Spoilers: No warnings. Post-Season 4.
Notes: Written for the "Collateral Damage" one-shot theme for heroes_contest.
Summary: Sylar hijacks Claire's road trip.
“Try not to get any blood on the seats. This car is brand new,” Claire barked at the uninvited guest in her front passenger seat. She frowned when the jerk just grinned at her, feeling rather smug as one would expect from the likes of him. She rolled her eyes, biting her lip in frustration.
She didn't even want to deal with him in the first place, but after she stopped for a soda and some Sweet Tarts, there was Sylar sitting in the front seat with a dumb grin and the expectation she'd give him a ride. She tried to tell him no, but he threatened people, threatened her (even though she couldn't die, the battle would be quite messy) so Claire gave in, only that he promised to leave once she dropped him off.
He didn't.
“I was supposed to do this road trip alone,” she muttered seething. Sylar grabbed her bag of goodies in the back seat, thankfully not covered with blood, and he started stealing her chips. Ooh, he was going to pay for that.
“Road trips are much more fun with other people,” Sylar said, chomping on a chip loudly.
Claire sighed. “If you hadn't noticed, I'm on the run, idiot.”
Sylar shrugged. “It's your own fault for exposing people with abilities to the whole world, Claire.”
“Shut up,” she said, turning the radio up louder. It was a stupid song that sounded like it was written for Sylar. She turned on NPR, and as they talked about Specials, she got frustrated and shut it off completely. Not that hearing Sylar chew sounded any better.
“Speaking of on the run, I thought you were a good guy now? Last time I talked to Emma and Peter, they said you were in some kind of super villain rehab,” Claire said, looking over at him with a cheeky grin. “Like rescuing kittens from trees, that sort of thing.”
Sylar seemed amused. “Well, it's not as fun as I thought it'd be. Being a hero. So...I upped the ante.”
“Vigilante missions. Ugh, lame, and wow, what a surprise too. You still get to kill people and steal their powers,” she said.
“Bad people, Claire. They're bad people, just remember that,” he clarified.
“Oh yeah, what about the last guy you killed and his friend? Sure, you got the guy's powers, but did you have to kill his friend?” she asked, looking out at the open highway. Next stop was New Mexico, and seeing the beautiful painted sky before her, she sorely wished she was driving this road alone. Fat chance at that.
“Collateral damage,” Sylar said in a low voice, and he turned to Claire. “Don't worry, cheerleader. I promise to take the appropriate amount of time to angst and regret and feel sorry for myself for killing an innocent bystander.” Sylar was pouting now, and Claire thought he looked ridiculous. Really, a serial killer with a sad face? “If his friend hadn't tried to intervene, he wouldn't have died.” He shrugged. “Friend or not, the man was dangerous. He shouldn't be using his powers to steal money from old ladies and poor people.”
“And it's better if you had those powers?” Claire asked, arching an eyebrow.
Sylar thought about it for a moment, tilted his head and ate another chip. “Well, yes. I think so.”
Claire groaned. “Ugh, you're so annoying. You know I didn't sign up for your vigilante missions? It was not part of my plan.”
“Life is fun that way, don't you think? Not having plans. Besides, you really can't show your face anywhere, and I could make one phone call and the government would be here in seconds to pick you up,” Sylar said, threatening her again. “Forget fighting me, Claire. You'd have to fight the military.”
“I'd survive,” Claire said softly.
“Yes, and then they'd capture your body, strap you to a table, and when you healed and woke up, your insides will be staring you in the face,” he said.
“Been there, done that,” Claire said dully. “But yeah, I really don't want to be an experiment. I'd rather just run, or go on this road trip and see places I'd never been to before. All around the world.” She shot him a glare. “I didn't ask for a hitchhiker.”
Sylar grinned at her. “What's the problem? We have all the time in the world. Plus, if you came with me, Claire, maybe you could stop me from killing innocent people and having any more collateral damage like the last place.”
Claire bit her lip. He knew how to tug at her heart strings. She was a hero through and through, and her morals always had outweighed his, and they always would. Claire didn't want to see people get hurt by Specials; she only wanted to be accepted as a normal person despite having abilities. She was impulsive when she exposed them; she knew that when she decided to jump off that Ferris Wheel, but she still would have done it all over again, even if people with abilities were getting a lot of attention from the government and the rest of the human race.
“It is kind of your fault really,” Sylar chimed in, and she hated when he would read her mind. “You set in motion the exposure of everyone else. Now, dangerous people with abilities are stepping up and exposing themselves too.” He shot her another smug look. “It looks like I'm the one cleaning up your messes.”
“Yay, Sylar, go you,” she drawled sarcastically.
“And I think...that it's very noble and redeeming of you to come with me while I clean up all these bad guys,” Sylar said, and if he continued any longer, she might stab the nearest pencil through his eye. Again. She heard him chuckle lightly next to her. “It's almost like we're a team. Like it was fate.”
She turned to him with a frown. “Please, don't start that crap again. I am not interested in you, and you better not hit on me or try to control me on this trip because I swear to God, Sylar I will continually chop off your vital parts even after they grow back.”
Sylar's smile thinned, though he seemed less amused with her threats.
“Besides, I sort of...have a girlfriend,” she said. She gave him another stern stare. “Got it?”
“Yes, yes, you play for the other team,” Sylar said, eating the crumbs from her bag of chips. She gritted her teeth, not liking his tone. “But we both are immortal. We'll see how you feel in 100 years.”
Claire cried out. “Oh. My. God, please tell me you're not hanging around me that long. I will seriously try to kill myself, if at all possible.”
“You don't like my company?” he asked in mock bafflement.
“I would rather eat broken glass than spend an eternity with you, and don't act surprised about it either,” Claire said, pointing at him.
“This is upsetting. I thought we were friends, Claire,” Sylar said, clucking his tongue. When she saw him reach back for her Snickers bar, she snapped. She slapped his hand and gave him a fist to the eye. Sylar flailed a bit, and the car began to swerve on the highway. He yelled at her, and Claire started using nails, scratching him down the face. She pulled back, trying to control the car as an animal dashed in front of them on the highway.
“Ah, you asshole!” Claire said, punching him once again before putting both hands on the steering wheel. Sylar seemed calm, though still seething and rubbing his wounded face.
“Are you done?” he asked in exasperation.
“Quit eating my food,” she ordered. Sylar looked at her wearily.
“Really, that's why you hit me?”
“You're such a baby,” she told him with a sigh. “God, this road trip sucks,” she muttered. Her knuckles went white as they gripped the steering wheel.
“Claire, you're going to have to deal with me. We have about seventy miles to go before I visit the next person on my list,” Sylar explained. “At least stop punching me.”
“Stop provoking me!” she yelled, and Sylar just sighed again.
“You really are going to be like this for another hundred years, aren't you?” Sylar asked, seemingly disappointed Claire couldn't easily warm up to him.
“Just shut up, Sylar,” Claire said, pursing her lips. He clued in fast that Claire didn't want to talk anymore, that he'd have to put up with the silent treatment for the rest of the duration. Bored, Claire saw him shifting in his seat, staring longingly at her Snickers in the back, and sighing heavily with impatience often.
He finally turned the radio on, and Claire groaned when he tortured her with the country channel - the only channel other than talk shows they could get out here - and he began singing along to the songs, mostly just to further annoy her.
Claire sighed. She didn't know what she wanted more, for him to die horribly or for her to kill herself. Since both were deemed impossible, Claire reached behind her and started eating her Snickers. In front of him - while he watched and drooled like a starving dog.
She inwardly cheered at her small victory. With Sylar along, and not leaving anytime soon, Claire took any triumph that she could get.
END
Title: Unwanted Company
Author: Paynesgrey
Rating: PG
Characters: Sylar, Claire Bennet
Genre: Humor/Genfic
Word Count: 1,624
Warnings/Spoilers: No warnings. Post-Season 4.
Notes: Written for the "Collateral Damage" one-shot theme for heroes_contest.
Summary: Sylar hijacks Claire's road trip.
“Try not to get any blood on the seats. This car is brand new,” Claire barked at the uninvited guest in her front passenger seat. She frowned when the jerk just grinned at her, feeling rather smug as one would expect from the likes of him. She rolled her eyes, biting her lip in frustration.
She didn't even want to deal with him in the first place, but after she stopped for a soda and some Sweet Tarts, there was Sylar sitting in the front seat with a dumb grin and the expectation she'd give him a ride. She tried to tell him no, but he threatened people, threatened her (even though she couldn't die, the battle would be quite messy) so Claire gave in, only that he promised to leave once she dropped him off.
He didn't.
“I was supposed to do this road trip alone,” she muttered seething. Sylar grabbed her bag of goodies in the back seat, thankfully not covered with blood, and he started stealing her chips. Ooh, he was going to pay for that.
“Road trips are much more fun with other people,” Sylar said, chomping on a chip loudly.
Claire sighed. “If you hadn't noticed, I'm on the run, idiot.”
Sylar shrugged. “It's your own fault for exposing people with abilities to the whole world, Claire.”
“Shut up,” she said, turning the radio up louder. It was a stupid song that sounded like it was written for Sylar. She turned on NPR, and as they talked about Specials, she got frustrated and shut it off completely. Not that hearing Sylar chew sounded any better.
“Speaking of on the run, I thought you were a good guy now? Last time I talked to Emma and Peter, they said you were in some kind of super villain rehab,” Claire said, looking over at him with a cheeky grin. “Like rescuing kittens from trees, that sort of thing.”
Sylar seemed amused. “Well, it's not as fun as I thought it'd be. Being a hero. So...I upped the ante.”
“Vigilante missions. Ugh, lame, and wow, what a surprise too. You still get to kill people and steal their powers,” she said.
“Bad people, Claire. They're bad people, just remember that,” he clarified.
“Oh yeah, what about the last guy you killed and his friend? Sure, you got the guy's powers, but did you have to kill his friend?” she asked, looking out at the open highway. Next stop was New Mexico, and seeing the beautiful painted sky before her, she sorely wished she was driving this road alone. Fat chance at that.
“Collateral damage,” Sylar said in a low voice, and he turned to Claire. “Don't worry, cheerleader. I promise to take the appropriate amount of time to angst and regret and feel sorry for myself for killing an innocent bystander.” Sylar was pouting now, and Claire thought he looked ridiculous. Really, a serial killer with a sad face? “If his friend hadn't tried to intervene, he wouldn't have died.” He shrugged. “Friend or not, the man was dangerous. He shouldn't be using his powers to steal money from old ladies and poor people.”
“And it's better if you had those powers?” Claire asked, arching an eyebrow.
Sylar thought about it for a moment, tilted his head and ate another chip. “Well, yes. I think so.”
Claire groaned. “Ugh, you're so annoying. You know I didn't sign up for your vigilante missions? It was not part of my plan.”
“Life is fun that way, don't you think? Not having plans. Besides, you really can't show your face anywhere, and I could make one phone call and the government would be here in seconds to pick you up,” Sylar said, threatening her again. “Forget fighting me, Claire. You'd have to fight the military.”
“I'd survive,” Claire said softly.
“Yes, and then they'd capture your body, strap you to a table, and when you healed and woke up, your insides will be staring you in the face,” he said.
“Been there, done that,” Claire said dully. “But yeah, I really don't want to be an experiment. I'd rather just run, or go on this road trip and see places I'd never been to before. All around the world.” She shot him a glare. “I didn't ask for a hitchhiker.”
Sylar grinned at her. “What's the problem? We have all the time in the world. Plus, if you came with me, Claire, maybe you could stop me from killing innocent people and having any more collateral damage like the last place.”
Claire bit her lip. He knew how to tug at her heart strings. She was a hero through and through, and her morals always had outweighed his, and they always would. Claire didn't want to see people get hurt by Specials; she only wanted to be accepted as a normal person despite having abilities. She was impulsive when she exposed them; she knew that when she decided to jump off that Ferris Wheel, but she still would have done it all over again, even if people with abilities were getting a lot of attention from the government and the rest of the human race.
“It is kind of your fault really,” Sylar chimed in, and she hated when he would read her mind. “You set in motion the exposure of everyone else. Now, dangerous people with abilities are stepping up and exposing themselves too.” He shot her another smug look. “It looks like I'm the one cleaning up your messes.”
“Yay, Sylar, go you,” she drawled sarcastically.
“And I think...that it's very noble and redeeming of you to come with me while I clean up all these bad guys,” Sylar said, and if he continued any longer, she might stab the nearest pencil through his eye. Again. She heard him chuckle lightly next to her. “It's almost like we're a team. Like it was fate.”
She turned to him with a frown. “Please, don't start that crap again. I am not interested in you, and you better not hit on me or try to control me on this trip because I swear to God, Sylar I will continually chop off your vital parts even after they grow back.”
Sylar's smile thinned, though he seemed less amused with her threats.
“Besides, I sort of...have a girlfriend,” she said. She gave him another stern stare. “Got it?”
“Yes, yes, you play for the other team,” Sylar said, eating the crumbs from her bag of chips. She gritted her teeth, not liking his tone. “But we both are immortal. We'll see how you feel in 100 years.”
Claire cried out. “Oh. My. God, please tell me you're not hanging around me that long. I will seriously try to kill myself, if at all possible.”
“You don't like my company?” he asked in mock bafflement.
“I would rather eat broken glass than spend an eternity with you, and don't act surprised about it either,” Claire said, pointing at him.
“This is upsetting. I thought we were friends, Claire,” Sylar said, clucking his tongue. When she saw him reach back for her Snickers bar, she snapped. She slapped his hand and gave him a fist to the eye. Sylar flailed a bit, and the car began to swerve on the highway. He yelled at her, and Claire started using nails, scratching him down the face. She pulled back, trying to control the car as an animal dashed in front of them on the highway.
“Ah, you asshole!” Claire said, punching him once again before putting both hands on the steering wheel. Sylar seemed calm, though still seething and rubbing his wounded face.
“Are you done?” he asked in exasperation.
“Quit eating my food,” she ordered. Sylar looked at her wearily.
“Really, that's why you hit me?”
“You're such a baby,” she told him with a sigh. “God, this road trip sucks,” she muttered. Her knuckles went white as they gripped the steering wheel.
“Claire, you're going to have to deal with me. We have about seventy miles to go before I visit the next person on my list,” Sylar explained. “At least stop punching me.”
“Stop provoking me!” she yelled, and Sylar just sighed again.
“You really are going to be like this for another hundred years, aren't you?” Sylar asked, seemingly disappointed Claire couldn't easily warm up to him.
“Just shut up, Sylar,” Claire said, pursing her lips. He clued in fast that Claire didn't want to talk anymore, that he'd have to put up with the silent treatment for the rest of the duration. Bored, Claire saw him shifting in his seat, staring longingly at her Snickers in the back, and sighing heavily with impatience often.
He finally turned the radio on, and Claire groaned when he tortured her with the country channel - the only channel other than talk shows they could get out here - and he began singing along to the songs, mostly just to further annoy her.
Claire sighed. She didn't know what she wanted more, for him to die horribly or for her to kill herself. Since both were deemed impossible, Claire reached behind her and started eating her Snickers. In front of him - while he watched and drooled like a starving dog.
She inwardly cheered at her small victory. With Sylar along, and not leaving anytime soon, Claire took any triumph that she could get.
END