(no subject)
Title: Define Dangerous
Characters: Sylar, Claire.
Spoilers: Up to Season 2.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2848
Chapter: 18/?
Previously: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17,
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.
The first plan to drive Claire away failed miserably. Sylar couldn't understand why she was still standing by his side, following him down the city street with that same damn bounce of hope in her steps. She was so naive, it was getting painful to watch.
He'd given her every reason to turn tail and run away, grabbed her roughly and showed her the dark side of him that he had been hiding away. Claire still refused to go. Her own self-preservation failed to kick in as her determination to find Peter grew. The damn Petrelli boy always seemed to fuck up his plans.
Not only did she stay with him but ever since finding him unconscious, Claire refused to give him an inch of space, always one step behind him in case he fell, as they searched for a way out of the city. Sylar told her he was fine a multitude of times already but she kept on pestering him.
He knew she was using him, leaning on his strength for her own support. She was hoping he would come through at the end and be the one who saved her from whatever was out there. He was nothing more than her muscle. Why else would she still be following him around?
“So, tell me again why we're stealing a new car?” She shivered in the cold night air as he broke into the first car they found in the more deserted area of the city, a little red Nissan Cobra. The sun had just gone down and the temperature was dropping steadily. “Haven't you had enough grand theft auto for one week?”
“I'm covering our tracks, Claire.” He replied with an annoyed sigh. Sylar knew it was pretty damn futile at this point to think simply changing cars would keep those that were following them off their tracks. They'd tagged him, buried a tracker in his neck. It didn't matter how far they ran or how many tricks Sylar used to evade them, the company would be coming tomorrow night. He would do what he could though. Besides, the car was a little flashy and if events took an even worse turn at least they would be going out in style. “You could help, you know, instead of just standing there looking pretty-- unless that's all you're good at.”
He slammed his fist into the window again but the damn driver's side window refused to break. The drugs made him weak; they were still running through his veins making him woozy. Sylar refused to let Claire see how drained he felt. The ill feeling would pass soon. Not soon enough to break through this car window, however. It was getting to the point where he was starting to think of taking a different vehicle, maybe that jeep across the street.
Claire stepped forward, gesturing him to step aside and used her whole arm to smash through the glass. She put every ounce of herself behind that bash, ripping her shirt in the process and gaining long cuts all along her arm as a result. They healed up quickly and Claire was left overly-impressed with her work. “See, I'm useful.”
“Yeah, sure.” He was still not convinced of that fact. Claire wasn't making his life any easier right now. Sure, she could break into cars pretty well, picking up the fine art of theft like a natural. Being near her was making him even angrier for making necessary deals though, as if offering to turn her into the company was somehow wrong. It was simply survival, a necessary adaption to the changes in the environment. He didn't mean it.
Then there was the fact that she wouldn't stop acting like he knew every single answer and could save her somehow. It was maddening. He wasn't a goddamn hero, he sure as hell never signed up to join their club.
He stumbled to unlock the door, ignoring how numb his feet felt. He was still floating on the same high but knew he'd be crashing down soon. Claire stopped him, laying her hand on his arm.
“I'll drive.” She offered, but then caught herself still needing his help. Claire always needed his help, he shuddered to think what would become of sweet, little Claire if he wasn't there to do every little thing for her. “If you can hotwire it for me, I mean.”
“Claire, we don't have time for your never-one-mile-over-the-speed-limit style of driving.” He did some quick calculations in his head. Time was running out. Prescott gave him one day, only until nightfall tomorrow, which left about twenty-two hours. “I seem to remember you freaking out last time you had to drive.”
“I think I got over that.” She sounded hopeful, but not completely sure of herself. “Besides, I don't want to be pulled over by a cop because they think you're driving drunk. Why don't you just start the car and then get some rest? I'll need you in top shape if we meet any trouble along the way.”
Sure, Sylar always had to be there in case there was trouble. He starting to get really tired of being the brawn of this operation. Not that he didn't enjoy kicking the shit out of things, but the girl needed to be able to stand on her own two feet. She needed to be able to face what was out there. She had to be stronger, but she wasn't. Not yet. He frowned, the need to protect her growing at a time when he really didn't want it to.
Claire's plan was a good one though. She could drive, he could rest and they would make it to Maine soon and thing's would be better. He nodded and opened the door, fiddling with the wires until the engine turned over.
As he got out of the car and walked around to the passenger side, Sylar replied. “Fine. If you want, you can drive. Just remember that we're on a time limit. We need to get to Peter as soon as possible.”
“Why?” She looked over the roof of the car at him. “I'm in a hurry to get to Peter, too but..” Claire narrowed her eyes in his direction, starting to catch on to his rushed tone. Apparently, blonds weren't all as stupid as he would have believed. “Is there something you're not telling me?”
“No, Claire. Every thing's fine.” Sylar lied, rather effectively this time and got into the car. Once Claire was behind the driver's seat, he turned towards her and turned up the charm, hoping to dissuade her from any thought of what happened back at the warehouse. “I'm sorry if I'm worrying you. I'm just excited to get you back to your family. I want to see you happy.”
“Wait.. what was that you just said?”
He shrugged and chose the least telling of his last statements. “That I can't wait to get you back to your family?”
Her lips curled up into a tiny smirk as Claire teased him. She'd caught him in the act of saying something that amused her greatly. “Noo.. you said you were 'sorry'. Are you okay? Did it hurt at all? Do you feel like your heart may be growing three times the size today?”
“It's just a phrase, Cindy Lou.” He spoke through gritted teeth. He wished someone from the company was around right then because he had a sudden urge to turn her in that very moment. “Now shut up and drive. By any luck, we may get to Sebago Lake by midnight and I can toss you out of my life by the end of the night.”
She pouted and he regretfully found it almost attractive. He closed his eyes and felt her drive away from the sidewalk. He couldn't forget those lips though, the way they pursed together when she grew sullen. If he kept thinking this way, it wouldn't be long before he cracked, told her exactly what the Primatech was planning and surrendered himself to the company so they would take him instead of her.
That would be a truly stupid, heroic move but it was an idea. One idea in the long list of maybes that might get the both of them out of this situation alive. Not that it mattered to him that Claire make it out alive, because it really didn't. Except that it did. And he hated that it did.
He counted down the minutes, checking the clock every so often to see if they would make it to Maine on schedule. All he had to do was get to Maine, drop Claire off on Peter's doorstep and drive away before the company found her. He paused, thinking over that new plan, wondering if it would work.
“Such a stupid little girl, you almost deserve what's coming to you.” Sylar perched on the hood of their car, getting some fresh air while watching Claire finish shopping at the store connected to the gas station. She was hungry and wanted something for dinner. Too bad her last free meal outside of the company would be some crap from a gas station store, but he wouldn't dare tell her his plan.
He didn't want her hating him before Sylar turned her over to the company.
Or maybe it would be better that way, he pondered. Maybe if Claire could sit in her cell, hating him for the rest of her tortured life, it would be enough for her to survive in there. He knew from experience that hatred could be a powerful force to cling to in the darkest hours.
He didn't want to hurt her but it was her fault anyway. Claire was quite possibly the stupidest female Sylar had ever met and that was saying something. He'd given her an out, attempted to give her a running start. She wouldn't take it though, so damn determined that he was going to save her.
He watched as she paid for the purchases. She was careful not to look up from her rather large baseball cap, keeping well hidden for fear of someone recognizing her from the news. Claire was taking all the wrong precautions. Sylar was the greater threat and she was still riding around with him.
He placed his fingers on the side of his neck, the small incision where they'd implanted the tracking chip starting to itch. Oh well, he'd given her a choice, she didn't take it. Whatever happened now fell on her shoulders.
She bounced out of the store, eager to get on the road and start back on the road again. He hopped off the hood of the car. “Did you get everything you needed?”
“Yep.” She showed him a scratch-off lottery ticket. “I guess once I move in with Peter, I won't be coming back to this state for a while but I couldn't resist playing.” Setting it on top of the wheel, she scratched off pieces of it with an extra penny from her change. Sylar was willing to bet, with the danger that was coming for her, that it was not a lucky penny. “My mother used to play these all the time. She kept hoping to win big but never won anything higher than fifty dollars.”
“How did you do?”
“Eh,” She chucked it into the backseat. “Nada. Oh well, I'm happy enough, I don't need money. We'll be at Peter's place in a little while. And then, well, then I'll be home.”
“What are you going to say to him?” Sylar asked as they headed out onto the highway. Westchester was a nice enough place, if you liked forests and the boring highways that cut through them. It was also rumored to be the site of the East Branch of Primatech's headquarters. He frowned, watching the trees go by and wondering if they were out there in the dark, starring him down right now and waiting for Sylar to make his move on the girl.
He turned his attention back to Claire, who was still stuck for an answer to his question, as simple enough as it had been. Finally, she replied, “I don't know. I've been wondering that myself. What do you say to a ghost? I mean, I thought he was dead up until yesterday when Molly gave me his address. She said he has a nice house, right on the lake.”
“You've been traveling with me this whole way and you still didn't think he was alive?” He sat up straighter, suddenly overtaken by the amount of trust she must have placed in him. To have followed him all the way from Texas to New York without being certain of finding Peter at the end, it was just more evidence of her missing brain. Too bad, he would have enjoyed that tasty treat.
She shrugged, switched the blinker on and moved in to the fast lane. “I was giving you the benefit of the doubt even though I pretty much thought you were crazy. We made interesting traveling companions though, at the very least.”
Sylar smirked to himself. The only one there who was crazy was Claire, crazy to be sitting in a car alone with him. Primatech reminded him of who he really was and what alignment the universe cast him into. He was a morally black and she was far too pure to understand such things. It wouldn't be long before he was turning her over to her enemies and gaining his freedom in return.
Guilt was a luxury he could not afford on this mission, so he did the best he could to push it aside, moving forward with his new goal. He starred at the radio buttons, pressing them in his mind and made the music switch over to an alternative rock station.
Claire beamed at him, proud as a parent on the day their child learned to walk. It was ridiculous. “Your powers are working again! That's great. It'll probably help us in the long run, you know, for things other than changing the radio station that I was listening to.”
“I'm sure it will, Claire.” Sylar starred out the window, waiting. “I'm sure it will.”
Sylar got up from the table at the Vermont diner, unable to eat with Claire and listen to her talk endlessly about her plans for the future. They were nothing more than false dreams; because of him, she had no future with Peter, no future in the real world. She was going back to the company in just a few hours.
On his way outside, he swiped a knife from off one of the nearby tables.
Sylar walked around the building, into the darkened fields that ran for what seemed like miles. Without an actual plan, he took the knife to his neck, cutting as deep as he could around the implant. He couldn't do it anymore. He couldn't lead the company straight to them, though he didn't know how far he would have to cut before the tracking device could come loose.
His scream brought Claire running, “Sylar! What are you doing?”
He grunted, his hands full of his own blood as he ripped a chuck of flesh from his neck. In the dim light from the parking lot, he saw that a piece of metal was stuck in the chuck of meat. He'd done it. He was free. He was.. really, really dizzy.
Sylar fell to the ground, his words slurred. “They were following.. I had to.. Claire. I--”
“Shh, don't speak.” She knelt beside him and took the knife, slicing a wide gash into her wrist. She didn't even seem to flinch at the pain. Blood poured out, though the hole was already knitting itself back together. “Drink this.”
“First you.. think I eat brains.. now blood.” He tried to lighten the mood with a gentle laugh, but nearly collapsed again. He leaned his back against her chest, having trouble sitting up now. “I may be evil.. but I'm not.. a vampire.”
She shut him up by forcing her wrist into his mouth, saving his life while there was still life there to be saved. “My blood can heal. The company was keeping me as their own little blood bank, selling my 'miracle cure' off to the highest bidder. I might as well save someone I actually care about this time.”
He could feel her breathing heavily as he suckled at her arm, ingesting every bit that he could. She put a hand on his forehead and rested her chin on it, holding him close. He drank as much as he could before the cut on Claire's arm closed up again. Soon new tissue and skin regrew around his knife wound and the life-threatening blood loss came to a stop.
He breathed. “You saved my life.”
“I'm the one who's supposed to be the masochist, dummy.” She said softly. “Get it right next time.”
..to be continued..
Characters: Sylar, Claire.
Spoilers: Up to Season 2.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2848
Chapter: 18/?
Previously: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17,
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.
The first plan to drive Claire away failed miserably. Sylar couldn't understand why she was still standing by his side, following him down the city street with that same damn bounce of hope in her steps. She was so naive, it was getting painful to watch.
He'd given her every reason to turn tail and run away, grabbed her roughly and showed her the dark side of him that he had been hiding away. Claire still refused to go. Her own self-preservation failed to kick in as her determination to find Peter grew. The damn Petrelli boy always seemed to fuck up his plans.
Not only did she stay with him but ever since finding him unconscious, Claire refused to give him an inch of space, always one step behind him in case he fell, as they searched for a way out of the city. Sylar told her he was fine a multitude of times already but she kept on pestering him.
He knew she was using him, leaning on his strength for her own support. She was hoping he would come through at the end and be the one who saved her from whatever was out there. He was nothing more than her muscle. Why else would she still be following him around?
“So, tell me again why we're stealing a new car?” She shivered in the cold night air as he broke into the first car they found in the more deserted area of the city, a little red Nissan Cobra. The sun had just gone down and the temperature was dropping steadily. “Haven't you had enough grand theft auto for one week?”
“I'm covering our tracks, Claire.” He replied with an annoyed sigh. Sylar knew it was pretty damn futile at this point to think simply changing cars would keep those that were following them off their tracks. They'd tagged him, buried a tracker in his neck. It didn't matter how far they ran or how many tricks Sylar used to evade them, the company would be coming tomorrow night. He would do what he could though. Besides, the car was a little flashy and if events took an even worse turn at least they would be going out in style. “You could help, you know, instead of just standing there looking pretty-- unless that's all you're good at.”
He slammed his fist into the window again but the damn driver's side window refused to break. The drugs made him weak; they were still running through his veins making him woozy. Sylar refused to let Claire see how drained he felt. The ill feeling would pass soon. Not soon enough to break through this car window, however. It was getting to the point where he was starting to think of taking a different vehicle, maybe that jeep across the street.
Claire stepped forward, gesturing him to step aside and used her whole arm to smash through the glass. She put every ounce of herself behind that bash, ripping her shirt in the process and gaining long cuts all along her arm as a result. They healed up quickly and Claire was left overly-impressed with her work. “See, I'm useful.”
“Yeah, sure.” He was still not convinced of that fact. Claire wasn't making his life any easier right now. Sure, she could break into cars pretty well, picking up the fine art of theft like a natural. Being near her was making him even angrier for making necessary deals though, as if offering to turn her into the company was somehow wrong. It was simply survival, a necessary adaption to the changes in the environment. He didn't mean it.
Then there was the fact that she wouldn't stop acting like he knew every single answer and could save her somehow. It was maddening. He wasn't a goddamn hero, he sure as hell never signed up to join their club.
He stumbled to unlock the door, ignoring how numb his feet felt. He was still floating on the same high but knew he'd be crashing down soon. Claire stopped him, laying her hand on his arm.
“I'll drive.” She offered, but then caught herself still needing his help. Claire always needed his help, he shuddered to think what would become of sweet, little Claire if he wasn't there to do every little thing for her. “If you can hotwire it for me, I mean.”
“Claire, we don't have time for your never-one-mile-over-the-speed-limit style of driving.” He did some quick calculations in his head. Time was running out. Prescott gave him one day, only until nightfall tomorrow, which left about twenty-two hours. “I seem to remember you freaking out last time you had to drive.”
“I think I got over that.” She sounded hopeful, but not completely sure of herself. “Besides, I don't want to be pulled over by a cop because they think you're driving drunk. Why don't you just start the car and then get some rest? I'll need you in top shape if we meet any trouble along the way.”
Sure, Sylar always had to be there in case there was trouble. He starting to get really tired of being the brawn of this operation. Not that he didn't enjoy kicking the shit out of things, but the girl needed to be able to stand on her own two feet. She needed to be able to face what was out there. She had to be stronger, but she wasn't. Not yet. He frowned, the need to protect her growing at a time when he really didn't want it to.
Claire's plan was a good one though. She could drive, he could rest and they would make it to Maine soon and thing's would be better. He nodded and opened the door, fiddling with the wires until the engine turned over.
As he got out of the car and walked around to the passenger side, Sylar replied. “Fine. If you want, you can drive. Just remember that we're on a time limit. We need to get to Peter as soon as possible.”
“Why?” She looked over the roof of the car at him. “I'm in a hurry to get to Peter, too but..” Claire narrowed her eyes in his direction, starting to catch on to his rushed tone. Apparently, blonds weren't all as stupid as he would have believed. “Is there something you're not telling me?”
“No, Claire. Every thing's fine.” Sylar lied, rather effectively this time and got into the car. Once Claire was behind the driver's seat, he turned towards her and turned up the charm, hoping to dissuade her from any thought of what happened back at the warehouse. “I'm sorry if I'm worrying you. I'm just excited to get you back to your family. I want to see you happy.”
“Wait.. what was that you just said?”
He shrugged and chose the least telling of his last statements. “That I can't wait to get you back to your family?”
Her lips curled up into a tiny smirk as Claire teased him. She'd caught him in the act of saying something that amused her greatly. “Noo.. you said you were 'sorry'. Are you okay? Did it hurt at all? Do you feel like your heart may be growing three times the size today?”
“It's just a phrase, Cindy Lou.” He spoke through gritted teeth. He wished someone from the company was around right then because he had a sudden urge to turn her in that very moment. “Now shut up and drive. By any luck, we may get to Sebago Lake by midnight and I can toss you out of my life by the end of the night.”
She pouted and he regretfully found it almost attractive. He closed his eyes and felt her drive away from the sidewalk. He couldn't forget those lips though, the way they pursed together when she grew sullen. If he kept thinking this way, it wouldn't be long before he cracked, told her exactly what the Primatech was planning and surrendered himself to the company so they would take him instead of her.
That would be a truly stupid, heroic move but it was an idea. One idea in the long list of maybes that might get the both of them out of this situation alive. Not that it mattered to him that Claire make it out alive, because it really didn't. Except that it did. And he hated that it did.
He counted down the minutes, checking the clock every so often to see if they would make it to Maine on schedule. All he had to do was get to Maine, drop Claire off on Peter's doorstep and drive away before the company found her. He paused, thinking over that new plan, wondering if it would work.
“Such a stupid little girl, you almost deserve what's coming to you.” Sylar perched on the hood of their car, getting some fresh air while watching Claire finish shopping at the store connected to the gas station. She was hungry and wanted something for dinner. Too bad her last free meal outside of the company would be some crap from a gas station store, but he wouldn't dare tell her his plan.
He didn't want her hating him before Sylar turned her over to the company.
Or maybe it would be better that way, he pondered. Maybe if Claire could sit in her cell, hating him for the rest of her tortured life, it would be enough for her to survive in there. He knew from experience that hatred could be a powerful force to cling to in the darkest hours.
He didn't want to hurt her but it was her fault anyway. Claire was quite possibly the stupidest female Sylar had ever met and that was saying something. He'd given her an out, attempted to give her a running start. She wouldn't take it though, so damn determined that he was going to save her.
He watched as she paid for the purchases. She was careful not to look up from her rather large baseball cap, keeping well hidden for fear of someone recognizing her from the news. Claire was taking all the wrong precautions. Sylar was the greater threat and she was still riding around with him.
He placed his fingers on the side of his neck, the small incision where they'd implanted the tracking chip starting to itch. Oh well, he'd given her a choice, she didn't take it. Whatever happened now fell on her shoulders.
She bounced out of the store, eager to get on the road and start back on the road again. He hopped off the hood of the car. “Did you get everything you needed?”
“Yep.” She showed him a scratch-off lottery ticket. “I guess once I move in with Peter, I won't be coming back to this state for a while but I couldn't resist playing.” Setting it on top of the wheel, she scratched off pieces of it with an extra penny from her change. Sylar was willing to bet, with the danger that was coming for her, that it was not a lucky penny. “My mother used to play these all the time. She kept hoping to win big but never won anything higher than fifty dollars.”
“How did you do?”
“Eh,” She chucked it into the backseat. “Nada. Oh well, I'm happy enough, I don't need money. We'll be at Peter's place in a little while. And then, well, then I'll be home.”
“What are you going to say to him?” Sylar asked as they headed out onto the highway. Westchester was a nice enough place, if you liked forests and the boring highways that cut through them. It was also rumored to be the site of the East Branch of Primatech's headquarters. He frowned, watching the trees go by and wondering if they were out there in the dark, starring him down right now and waiting for Sylar to make his move on the girl.
He turned his attention back to Claire, who was still stuck for an answer to his question, as simple enough as it had been. Finally, she replied, “I don't know. I've been wondering that myself. What do you say to a ghost? I mean, I thought he was dead up until yesterday when Molly gave me his address. She said he has a nice house, right on the lake.”
“You've been traveling with me this whole way and you still didn't think he was alive?” He sat up straighter, suddenly overtaken by the amount of trust she must have placed in him. To have followed him all the way from Texas to New York without being certain of finding Peter at the end, it was just more evidence of her missing brain. Too bad, he would have enjoyed that tasty treat.
She shrugged, switched the blinker on and moved in to the fast lane. “I was giving you the benefit of the doubt even though I pretty much thought you were crazy. We made interesting traveling companions though, at the very least.”
Sylar smirked to himself. The only one there who was crazy was Claire, crazy to be sitting in a car alone with him. Primatech reminded him of who he really was and what alignment the universe cast him into. He was a morally black and she was far too pure to understand such things. It wouldn't be long before he was turning her over to her enemies and gaining his freedom in return.
Guilt was a luxury he could not afford on this mission, so he did the best he could to push it aside, moving forward with his new goal. He starred at the radio buttons, pressing them in his mind and made the music switch over to an alternative rock station.
Claire beamed at him, proud as a parent on the day their child learned to walk. It was ridiculous. “Your powers are working again! That's great. It'll probably help us in the long run, you know, for things other than changing the radio station that I was listening to.”
“I'm sure it will, Claire.” Sylar starred out the window, waiting. “I'm sure it will.”
Sylar got up from the table at the Vermont diner, unable to eat with Claire and listen to her talk endlessly about her plans for the future. They were nothing more than false dreams; because of him, she had no future with Peter, no future in the real world. She was going back to the company in just a few hours.
On his way outside, he swiped a knife from off one of the nearby tables.
Sylar walked around the building, into the darkened fields that ran for what seemed like miles. Without an actual plan, he took the knife to his neck, cutting as deep as he could around the implant. He couldn't do it anymore. He couldn't lead the company straight to them, though he didn't know how far he would have to cut before the tracking device could come loose.
His scream brought Claire running, “Sylar! What are you doing?”
He grunted, his hands full of his own blood as he ripped a chuck of flesh from his neck. In the dim light from the parking lot, he saw that a piece of metal was stuck in the chuck of meat. He'd done it. He was free. He was.. really, really dizzy.
Sylar fell to the ground, his words slurred. “They were following.. I had to.. Claire. I--”
“Shh, don't speak.” She knelt beside him and took the knife, slicing a wide gash into her wrist. She didn't even seem to flinch at the pain. Blood poured out, though the hole was already knitting itself back together. “Drink this.”
“First you.. think I eat brains.. now blood.” He tried to lighten the mood with a gentle laugh, but nearly collapsed again. He leaned his back against her chest, having trouble sitting up now. “I may be evil.. but I'm not.. a vampire.”
She shut him up by forcing her wrist into his mouth, saving his life while there was still life there to be saved. “My blood can heal. The company was keeping me as their own little blood bank, selling my 'miracle cure' off to the highest bidder. I might as well save someone I actually care about this time.”
He could feel her breathing heavily as he suckled at her arm, ingesting every bit that he could. She put a hand on his forehead and rested her chin on it, holding him close. He drank as much as he could before the cut on Claire's arm closed up again. Soon new tissue and skin regrew around his knife wound and the life-threatening blood loss came to a stop.
He breathed. “You saved my life.”
“I'm the one who's supposed to be the masochist, dummy.” She said softly. “Get it right next time.”
..to be continued..