(no subject)
Title: Define Dangerous
Characters: Sylar, Claire.
Spoilers: Up to Season 2.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2026
Chapter: 10/?
Previously: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9
Summary: While escaping the Company, Sylar meets up with someone from his past. Together, they must piece together some semblance of normality after years of captivity. Future AU.
They passed the Virginia border by early afternoon, which was about the time that the weather decided to become downright miserable. Heavy storms rolled down from the mountains, cloaking the interstate with patches of thick fog and thunderstorms. The rain drowned out the sound of the radio, which wasn't too much of a letdown since all the stations around those parts seemed to consist of really bad country music.
Claire gripped the leather cover of the wheel tightly, hands positioned directly at ten and two and wondered why the simple act of driving left a sickly feeling in the pit of her stomach. Her foot barely grazed the gas pedal as if she was afraid for her foot to even be near it. Even after all her begging and pleading, Sylar refused to drive this leg too. Now his sole task seemed to be to pointing at passing signs and reminded her that the interstate had a minimum speed limit.
She didn't have a particularly good record with cars.
Back during her Union Wells High School days, after a particularly bad dating experience that led to an attempted rape and her first near death experience, she'd crashed her car into a brick wall. It seemed like the only way Brody would ever learn how to treat women better. Her healing abilities allowed her to walk away unscathed. Brody, on the other hand, received a moderate concussion from that accident.
Then in Costa Verde, she accidentally left the doors to the new truck her father bought her unlocked. It was stolen that day, only a week after receiving it as her birthday present. It was a beautiful truck for the few days she owned it; another Nissan because that was the only brand name her father would trust to let his only daughter drive.
Neither the accident nor theft accounted for the inadequacy Claire felt as she drove through traffic. The real reason behind this sudden fear was that Primatech employees repeatedly told Claire that she was a bad driver and would only crash and die if she ever tried to leave by car.
She knew it was all brainwashing and not a speck of it was true. They only made those claims so Claire wouldn't use faster transportation than they could track if she ever attempted escape. There were only so many times that something could be said before it became the truth though.
She bit her lip and focused on the task at hand: getting from Memphis to Washington without having a multitude of panic attacks which would kill both passengers in a massive bloody collision. Claire sucked in a deep breath while thoughts of dying in a ditch by the side of the road with windshield glass stuck through her forehead clouded her mind.
“What if we slide into on-coming traffic or we hit a patch of ice--” Claire glanced at the storm clouds overhead. There was no ice coming, only rain, but that didn't dissuade the worry from popping up in her head. The long list of What Ifs continued rolling around in her mind, “Or we--”
“Don't worry. If that happens, I'll crawl to your bloody corpse, steal your powers before your brain stops working completely and heal myself.” Sylar cut her off as a teasing smile spread across his lips. Claire was sure he was enjoying her panic, he probably got off on it in his own twisted way. When all he got from her was stony silence, he added, “What? I can't enjoy a little amusement at your expense? But that's what makes road trips fun!”
Her on-coming panic attack took a back seat to the new aggravation of her back talking passenger.
Claire's foot slammed on the gas pedal making Sylar grab for the overhead handle. The way his eyes now widened as she darted through traffic and narrowly avoided hitting a few vehicles in the process amused her. Maybe he was right. Maybe getting a little amusement at the expense of the other passenger really was what made road trips fun.
With all the headway they made with Claire's new crazy driving scare tactics, they made it to Roanoke by lunch time. Stopping at a small diner, the conversation was light and Claire caught herself smiling at his jokes more than once. When the check came for their meal, Sylar glanced in the stolen wallet and pulled out what was left of their funds. It was barely enough to cover the expense of their food and possibly a little gas. He lowered his voice, “After lunch I want you to go back to the car while I go get some money from the locals.”
Claire put down the extremely strong lemonade she was drinking and frowned. Her next words were chosen carefully, the question needing to be asked no matter how mad it would make him or how naive it would make her look. “Are you going to steal it?”
“No, Claire,” He spoke slowly, as if speaking to a child. Her frown grew deeper as his sarcasm grew stronger. “I'm going to ask them nicely if they would please donate a few hundred dollars to the Primatech Escapee Fund. I'm sure they'd be willing to help me out because I have such an honest face.”
She pushed her food away, no longer hungry. “There has to be a better way. You can't go around mugging people whenever we need more money. Someone could get hurt.”
“Stealing is the only way I know how to survive.” Sylar shrugged and stole a few fries from her plate. “I'm not going to hurt anyone, okay? If that's what you're so worried about. I promise. I'm merely going to rough them up a bit, take what I need and then we can get on our way.”
“I'm supposed to trust your promises? You're wanted for murder in how many states now?” Neither of them were expecting her to throw his past back in his face. It was the truth though. She was traveling with someone she would never be able to trust completely. It kinda put a kink in their friendship. Her voice lowered to a hiss, carefully out of ear shot of the other patrons, “I can't keep doing this.. I can't keep letting people get hurt whenever I need something or when it'll benefit me. That's not how my parents raised me.”
“Your parents are dead, Claire.” His voice deadpanned painful words she did not want to hear.
Claire raised her hand, aiming to strike from across the table. She wanted to smack him across the face for daring to say those words, for daring to speak that thought or mention them at all but as tears threatened to fall from her eyes, she lowered her hand and simply said. “I'll be in the car.”
She stood, rising from the small table in the back of the diner and walked out on him.
After leaving the diner, Sylar stomped through puddles, ignoring the way the water damped the bottom of his pants. Rain poured down around him, causing him to squint against it's constant onslaught. He was out in the city, looking for prey, one easy target before heading back to the car. Nothing would stop him from this pursuit, not even Claire's constant whining about right and wrong.
He buttoned his coat, pulling it tighter against the harsh weather. The cold chill of the city air was nothing compared to the look Claire gave him when she left the diner. She expected more from him, more from the world but things couldn't be changed around just to make her happy. She was acting like a child. She wouldn't survive in this world like that. Someone had to snap her back to harsh reality. The world wasn't a nice place and people needed to look after their own.
Sylar tried to push Claire out of his thoughts and made his way through town, hoping to spot a good target for what he had in mind. They'd lose their life and he would work out a few pent up emotions. It was almost like therapy, letting all his anger pour out into a person who would be a corpse in a short time. Sylar lied to her when he said he would only rough them up a bit. Maybe that was why Claire got so upset. He frowned, caught up in replaying their conversation again.
The search for the right victim was starting to get discouraging. Not too many people were out on the street in the middle of the rainstorm. The few that were didn't look like they had too much money with them, mostly runaways and homeless. Maybe there were others he could have easily chosen but Sylar was picky that afternoon. He couldn't explain why. Each person on the street seemed like a viable option but then he remembered Claire's face. Stupid, innocent Claire. That girl was born to be a victim and raised to be a moron. Yet, the way she stuck to her beliefs, guarding her boundaries of what was right and what was wrong. It showed a kind of strength, even if Sylar couldn't completely agree with it.
He growled, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. This was stupid. He should stop thinking about that damn girl and what she wanted, go get what he needed and be done with it. An ATM was blinking at him angrily, bright lights against the gray rain. At first he ignored it and continued walking. Then an idea popped into his head and he hurried back to the machine.
Sylar placed his hand on its warm screen, searching within himself for a power he had stolen years earlier from a little boy. It didn't take long to mind meld with the machine. It spoke to him in words formed of binary code and he replied in the same. Once the connection with the machine was made, the rest was simple. Money came sliding out of it's withdrawal slot like coins at Vegas, a couple thousand in total. He took it and pocketed it, making sure no one spotted him.
Claire couldn't possibly object to this. He wasn't hurting anyone to obtain what they needed because that kid was already dead. Sylar killed him so long ago that it was history. He walked off into the rain, heading back to the parking lot with a smile on his face.
When Sylar got back to the car the passenger door was locked. He knocked on it and Claire rolled down the window so they could talk as rain poured down on him and continued drenching him. He leaned into the car. “You wanna let me in, Claire?”
“I don't know.” Claire refused to look at him, keeping her eyes firmly on view through the front windshield. She crossed her arms and returned his jab, “You wanna stop being a jackass?”
He pulled the money out of his coat pocket, fanning it out to show her. He could reach the door lock now if he simply tried but there was a sincere pleasure in making her be the one to cross that space between them. “You're not going to get very far without some of this. Like it or not you need me. Now unlock the door.”
“Where did you get all that?” Her eyes went wide as she watched him counting it all in her peripheral vision.
“No one got hurt, if that's what your asking.” He finished counting and glanced up at her. She wasn't buying his story, probably figured there was some dead girl somewhere on the streets of Roanoke. “Trust me, no one got hurt.. do you really think someone would be stupid enough to be carrying this much around with them? Now let me in.”
The only reply that came from Claire was the sound of the lock clicking open. It sort of amused Sylar when he could get her to do exactly what he wanted. He tried not to think about how he had played right into her hands as well.
..to be continued..
Characters: Sylar, Claire.
Spoilers: Up to Season 2.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2026
Chapter: 10/?
Previously: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9
Summary: While escaping the Company, Sylar meets up with someone from his past. Together, they must piece together some semblance of normality after years of captivity. Future AU.
They passed the Virginia border by early afternoon, which was about the time that the weather decided to become downright miserable. Heavy storms rolled down from the mountains, cloaking the interstate with patches of thick fog and thunderstorms. The rain drowned out the sound of the radio, which wasn't too much of a letdown since all the stations around those parts seemed to consist of really bad country music.
Claire gripped the leather cover of the wheel tightly, hands positioned directly at ten and two and wondered why the simple act of driving left a sickly feeling in the pit of her stomach. Her foot barely grazed the gas pedal as if she was afraid for her foot to even be near it. Even after all her begging and pleading, Sylar refused to drive this leg too. Now his sole task seemed to be to pointing at passing signs and reminded her that the interstate had a minimum speed limit.
She didn't have a particularly good record with cars.
Back during her Union Wells High School days, after a particularly bad dating experience that led to an attempted rape and her first near death experience, she'd crashed her car into a brick wall. It seemed like the only way Brody would ever learn how to treat women better. Her healing abilities allowed her to walk away unscathed. Brody, on the other hand, received a moderate concussion from that accident.
Then in Costa Verde, she accidentally left the doors to the new truck her father bought her unlocked. It was stolen that day, only a week after receiving it as her birthday present. It was a beautiful truck for the few days she owned it; another Nissan because that was the only brand name her father would trust to let his only daughter drive.
Neither the accident nor theft accounted for the inadequacy Claire felt as she drove through traffic. The real reason behind this sudden fear was that Primatech employees repeatedly told Claire that she was a bad driver and would only crash and die if she ever tried to leave by car.
She knew it was all brainwashing and not a speck of it was true. They only made those claims so Claire wouldn't use faster transportation than they could track if she ever attempted escape. There were only so many times that something could be said before it became the truth though.
She bit her lip and focused on the task at hand: getting from Memphis to Washington without having a multitude of panic attacks which would kill both passengers in a massive bloody collision. Claire sucked in a deep breath while thoughts of dying in a ditch by the side of the road with windshield glass stuck through her forehead clouded her mind.
“What if we slide into on-coming traffic or we hit a patch of ice--” Claire glanced at the storm clouds overhead. There was no ice coming, only rain, but that didn't dissuade the worry from popping up in her head. The long list of What Ifs continued rolling around in her mind, “Or we--”
“Don't worry. If that happens, I'll crawl to your bloody corpse, steal your powers before your brain stops working completely and heal myself.” Sylar cut her off as a teasing smile spread across his lips. Claire was sure he was enjoying her panic, he probably got off on it in his own twisted way. When all he got from her was stony silence, he added, “What? I can't enjoy a little amusement at your expense? But that's what makes road trips fun!”
Her on-coming panic attack took a back seat to the new aggravation of her back talking passenger.
Claire's foot slammed on the gas pedal making Sylar grab for the overhead handle. The way his eyes now widened as she darted through traffic and narrowly avoided hitting a few vehicles in the process amused her. Maybe he was right. Maybe getting a little amusement at the expense of the other passenger really was what made road trips fun.
With all the headway they made with Claire's new crazy driving scare tactics, they made it to Roanoke by lunch time. Stopping at a small diner, the conversation was light and Claire caught herself smiling at his jokes more than once. When the check came for their meal, Sylar glanced in the stolen wallet and pulled out what was left of their funds. It was barely enough to cover the expense of their food and possibly a little gas. He lowered his voice, “After lunch I want you to go back to the car while I go get some money from the locals.”
Claire put down the extremely strong lemonade she was drinking and frowned. Her next words were chosen carefully, the question needing to be asked no matter how mad it would make him or how naive it would make her look. “Are you going to steal it?”
“No, Claire,” He spoke slowly, as if speaking to a child. Her frown grew deeper as his sarcasm grew stronger. “I'm going to ask them nicely if they would please donate a few hundred dollars to the Primatech Escapee Fund. I'm sure they'd be willing to help me out because I have such an honest face.”
She pushed her food away, no longer hungry. “There has to be a better way. You can't go around mugging people whenever we need more money. Someone could get hurt.”
“Stealing is the only way I know how to survive.” Sylar shrugged and stole a few fries from her plate. “I'm not going to hurt anyone, okay? If that's what you're so worried about. I promise. I'm merely going to rough them up a bit, take what I need and then we can get on our way.”
“I'm supposed to trust your promises? You're wanted for murder in how many states now?” Neither of them were expecting her to throw his past back in his face. It was the truth though. She was traveling with someone she would never be able to trust completely. It kinda put a kink in their friendship. Her voice lowered to a hiss, carefully out of ear shot of the other patrons, “I can't keep doing this.. I can't keep letting people get hurt whenever I need something or when it'll benefit me. That's not how my parents raised me.”
“Your parents are dead, Claire.” His voice deadpanned painful words she did not want to hear.
Claire raised her hand, aiming to strike from across the table. She wanted to smack him across the face for daring to say those words, for daring to speak that thought or mention them at all but as tears threatened to fall from her eyes, she lowered her hand and simply said. “I'll be in the car.”
She stood, rising from the small table in the back of the diner and walked out on him.
After leaving the diner, Sylar stomped through puddles, ignoring the way the water damped the bottom of his pants. Rain poured down around him, causing him to squint against it's constant onslaught. He was out in the city, looking for prey, one easy target before heading back to the car. Nothing would stop him from this pursuit, not even Claire's constant whining about right and wrong.
He buttoned his coat, pulling it tighter against the harsh weather. The cold chill of the city air was nothing compared to the look Claire gave him when she left the diner. She expected more from him, more from the world but things couldn't be changed around just to make her happy. She was acting like a child. She wouldn't survive in this world like that. Someone had to snap her back to harsh reality. The world wasn't a nice place and people needed to look after their own.
Sylar tried to push Claire out of his thoughts and made his way through town, hoping to spot a good target for what he had in mind. They'd lose their life and he would work out a few pent up emotions. It was almost like therapy, letting all his anger pour out into a person who would be a corpse in a short time. Sylar lied to her when he said he would only rough them up a bit. Maybe that was why Claire got so upset. He frowned, caught up in replaying their conversation again.
The search for the right victim was starting to get discouraging. Not too many people were out on the street in the middle of the rainstorm. The few that were didn't look like they had too much money with them, mostly runaways and homeless. Maybe there were others he could have easily chosen but Sylar was picky that afternoon. He couldn't explain why. Each person on the street seemed like a viable option but then he remembered Claire's face. Stupid, innocent Claire. That girl was born to be a victim and raised to be a moron. Yet, the way she stuck to her beliefs, guarding her boundaries of what was right and what was wrong. It showed a kind of strength, even if Sylar couldn't completely agree with it.
He growled, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. This was stupid. He should stop thinking about that damn girl and what she wanted, go get what he needed and be done with it. An ATM was blinking at him angrily, bright lights against the gray rain. At first he ignored it and continued walking. Then an idea popped into his head and he hurried back to the machine.
Sylar placed his hand on its warm screen, searching within himself for a power he had stolen years earlier from a little boy. It didn't take long to mind meld with the machine. It spoke to him in words formed of binary code and he replied in the same. Once the connection with the machine was made, the rest was simple. Money came sliding out of it's withdrawal slot like coins at Vegas, a couple thousand in total. He took it and pocketed it, making sure no one spotted him.
Claire couldn't possibly object to this. He wasn't hurting anyone to obtain what they needed because that kid was already dead. Sylar killed him so long ago that it was history. He walked off into the rain, heading back to the parking lot with a smile on his face.
When Sylar got back to the car the passenger door was locked. He knocked on it and Claire rolled down the window so they could talk as rain poured down on him and continued drenching him. He leaned into the car. “You wanna let me in, Claire?”
“I don't know.” Claire refused to look at him, keeping her eyes firmly on view through the front windshield. She crossed her arms and returned his jab, “You wanna stop being a jackass?”
He pulled the money out of his coat pocket, fanning it out to show her. He could reach the door lock now if he simply tried but there was a sincere pleasure in making her be the one to cross that space between them. “You're not going to get very far without some of this. Like it or not you need me. Now unlock the door.”
“Where did you get all that?” Her eyes went wide as she watched him counting it all in her peripheral vision.
“No one got hurt, if that's what your asking.” He finished counting and glanced up at her. She wasn't buying his story, probably figured there was some dead girl somewhere on the streets of Roanoke. “Trust me, no one got hurt.. do you really think someone would be stupid enough to be carrying this much around with them? Now let me in.”
The only reply that came from Claire was the sound of the lock clicking open. It sort of amused Sylar when he could get her to do exactly what he wanted. He tried not to think about how he had played right into her hands as well.
..to be continued..