Eternity is a Long Time to Spend Alone
Title: Eternity is a Long Time to Spend Alone
Characters/Paring: Claire, Peter, Adam, Sylar, Lyle - Claire/Adam and Peter/Sylar
Rating: R
Spoilers: Vauge V3
Warnings: Future fic, so character deaths.
Word Count: 2400
Summary: AU after V2. Three moments in time, exploring what it's like to live forever.
Notes: Although this fic is not at all what cousinmary detailed, it was her comment on Mortality that inspired it.
-----
Noah Bennet’s funeral was sparsely attended. His son Lyle was there, with his wife and children. The others didn’t seem intent on offering comfort to the bereaved son. A few haggard faces even seemed show relief, or some odd sort of satisfaction. They didn’t linger.
After the ceremony was completed, Lyle’s family headed off to their car to provide him with some time alone. It was only then that the two people still lingering pulled down their hoods, revealing faces untouched by the ravages of time.
“I didn’t think you would come.” Lyle had changed a lot over the years. He’d become a man that a father could be proud of. He had learned at a young age that he had to look out for himself. He was fiercely protective of the family he had come to love, would die for them, but he would never do so through lies and deception. He knew better.
“He was still my father,” Claire replied softly. It was no secret that she hated him, had disowned him years ago, but she was not so heartless as to not mourn his passing.
Lyle couldn’t help staring at his older sister, though no one would believe that assertion now. Claire still looked eighteen and not a day older. Enough time had passed that she couldn’t be seen by anyone in her old life without causing a panic. The world was not a safe place for those with abilities. It wasn’t as bad as it had been for a while, but even though those like her who obeyed the law weren’t being hunted any longer, society still didn’t accept them. Fear had led to many unnecessary deaths, and she would always be in danger from those who coveted her eternal youth. Fortunately, there were few who would dare the wrath of her uncle.
Peter stood by her side, looking at Noah’s freshly dug grave with considerably more fondness than his niece. Peter hadn’t known him all that well, but Noah had helped him at a crucial moment in his life, and for all his mistakes he had meant well with his family. Peter could respect that.
“You haven’t aged a day…” Lyle had known that neither would, but after such a long time apart it was still hard to process.
“You look well,” Claire replied fondly, trying not to dwell on the fact that one day it would be her brother’s grave she was standing before. “I wish I could meet your children.”
Lyle nodded sadly, a loving glance directed in the direction of his car and family.
“You could always pretend to be a distant cousin or something,” Peter offered helpfully.
“Ya, maybe that could work,” Claire agreed faintly, unable to put any real conviction into her voice. They all knew it would never happen. Claire’s life was dangerous enough, and despite the hypocritical nature of her convictions, she stayed away to protect her family.
“I should go, they’ll ask questions.”
Claire nodded, “I’ll write.” It was one promise she could keep.
Lyle stood, shuffling his feet for a moment, indecisive, before throwing his arms around his immortal sister, hugging her fiercely.
“I love you,” he whispered.
“I love you too,” she replied emphatically.
He and Peter shook hands, “Keep her safe,” and then Lyle left. Claire wondered if she would see him again before it was his funeral she was attending.
Peter squeezed her shoulder reassuringly, what little comfort he could offer, as they watched the car recede into the distance.
The silence that fell over the graveyard only lasted a moment.
“I know you’re there.”
Claire shot a startled glance at Peter, one that swiftly shifted to the form that shimmered into visibility. Sylar still looked the same as the day he had sawed open Claire’s skull to take his share of her immortality, but Claire found that she felt no fear in his presence. It was more than just that she no longer had anything he wanted. Despite knowing the horrors he could still inflict, she found herself calm in the face of the man who had once terrified her.
“You’d better not be here for a fight.” Claire bit out. Sylar considered fighting with Peter one of his favourite pastimes, or something like that. She wasn’t sure, but it was the best explanation she could come up with. He certainly hadn’t seemed intent on killing Peter the last few times, and there was no one else who could challenge him.
“I’m not,” Sylar replied with a shrug, his trademark grin not in evidence. His glare was focused on the grave. He seemed not to care about his audience.
Peter took a step from Claire’s side. He was putting himself between her and danger, but he wasn’t expecting a fight. Sylar was adept at keeping his thoughts hidden, but his emotions were laid bare to Peter’s empathic senses.
“You really hated him.”
Sylar’s eyes flicked in Peter’s direction, that familiar anger at the emotional intrusion written in his eyes, but finally he shrugged.
“He hated me just as much.” With a look Peter couldn’t decipher, Sylar let out a dry chuckle. “I guess I get the last laugh.”
Life moved on.
---
“You have to admit, no one can understand what you’re going through like I can.”
“Peter-“
“Peter isn’t like us, Claire.” Adam leaned forward over the dining table, his expression as open and earnest as Claire had ever seen it. “Peter and Sylar, they really are gods among men. Hell, both have worshippers, even if they don’t want them.”
Claire let out a rather un-ladylike snort. “I’m sure Sylar just loves that.”
“You might be surprised,” Adam leaned back in his seat once more, expression distant. “A few hundred years changes a person, especially one with his talents.”
“Please, he’s always wanted to rule the world,” Claire refuted disbelievingly. She had come to accept that Sylar had mostly grown out of his sadistic tendencies, partially by expressing his frustrations in fights with Peter, but his ambition had never changed.
“He already does, in a way. The company we built influences governments the world ‘round, and his influence did more for our rights than anyone else.”
“Only because he can vaporize any force sent against him, and he only did it to help himself.”
Adam grinned, just a little. “The self-interest I’ll grant you, the attempts on his life and our operations were irritating him to no end, but there was more to the policy change than just brute force.”
Claire let out a disbelieving huff. Adam wasn’t surprised; she held a grudge against the man for more reasons than just the obvious. If only she knew the whole truth of the matter, he expected she would hate Sylar all the more; but even Adam wasn’t supposed to know about that, so he wasn’t about share.
“Anyway, I didn’t invite you here to talk about Sylar.”
“I’ll admit, it gets lonely sometimes,” Claire swirled her cocktail ponderously. “I don’t see Peter much anymore, not since things settled down, and my last marriage- well...”
“How is your daughter, by the way?”
“Sandra’s doing well.” Claire’s eyes lit up when she talked about her daughter. Her marriage may have ended in a spectacularly messy fashion, but she felt nothing but love for her child. “She and Kayla adopted a wonderful little boy. He has a gift for languages.”
“That’s a new one; very useful.”
Claire nodded, trying as always not to picture the day when she would be attending her daughter’s funeral; Lyle’s had been hard enough. Adam had a point there at least; she would never have to watch him die. Well, probably not. It was still possible, theoretically.
They sat in silence for a long moment. Adam could tell Claire was working up to saying something, and he was happy to wait.
“I don’t love you,” she finally managed.
“You thought you loved Joshua, and look how that turned out.” Adam offered cautiously, not wanting to upset Claire more than was necessary to drive the point home. “Love is an ephemeral thing. Mostly it flares up quickly, and fades with time. Sometimes, however, you can grow to love a person in a way that is less… physical.”
“You think that given enough time your charm will wear me down?” She seemed somewhat put out as she said it, but there was a playful glint in her eyes.
“I was thinking more like how you love family.”
There wasn’t much Claire could say to that, and it brought back a painful pang of loss.
“I’ll think about it.”
---
To the uniformed observer, it looked a little like a fireworks display. Lights danced and flashed, speeding across the sky with bangs and cracks, a violent ballet of sound and light and life and death.
These days they were careful to battle it out high enough in the atmosphere that they didn’t destroy anything on the ground, or knock planes out of the air. It was getting trickier to dodge ships bound for space, but it had become just another challenge. How much pain could they inflict on each other without getting innocents involved? Sylar didn’t mind so much, but Peter had threatened to stop playing, and chasing Peter down wasn’t nearly as much fun as fighting him. Besides which, Sylar had something of a reputation now, one that involved less murder and if not benevolence, then at least respectability. Causing another disaster, even a minor one, would show a lack of control, would weaken his influence, and he rather enjoyed his influence. He had plans for it.
The length of their battles was always fluid; never less than an hour, but sometimes considerably longer. On one memorable occasion they had battled across the globe for over a week. The ending, these days, was always the same, and it was always Sylar who broke first.
What should have been a killing blow, at least temporarily, turned into an exchange of an entirely different sort. Their kisses spoke of anger and lust and need. As clothing was torn off, phased out of or vaporized their bodies came together in a passion that neither had been able to explain, nor did they want to. Bruises formed and faded from desperately clutching grasps instead of stunning blows. Blood was drawn from fingernails biting into flesh, instead of the gaping wounds of battle. Pain was mingled with ecstasy, and by the time it was over a new sort of peace, serenity, settled over them both.
They lay in a field of green, a preserve of some sort, a tangle of limbs and sweat and the smell of sex. The aftermath had turned oddly intimate, especially for two people who still sort of hated each other. It had become an odd sort of ritual, a chance to talk with the one person who could possibly understand their unique challenges.
This time Sylar waited for Peter to speak first. It wasn’t often that he initiated the fight, and when he did it was always because something was bothering him.
“Claire and Adam got married,” he whispered, and it was clear that it pained him just to say it.
“Took them long enough,” Sylar replied stretching out on the grass, enjoying the warm summer breeze dancing over his naked flesh. “It’s been nearly a century since he asked.”
Peter didn’t reply and Sylar stifled a sigh. He was pouting, and Sylar really wished he didn’t care, but he was still incapable of ignoring something broken. People usually didn’t get to him, it was more systems and theories of science and politics and society he meddled with now, but Peter’s empathy tended to rub off on him after their exertions. Sometimes, in the moment, Sylar’s psychic defenses would drop, and the tangle of minds and emotions would leave him off balance for days.
“It’s not like he’s trying to destroy the world anymore.”
Peter sighed, “That’s not the point.” It would be pretty hypocritical too, given how his relationship with Sylar had evolved.
“Well then what is, dammit? I’m not in the mood for twenty questions.”
Peter rolled his eyes and stood up, summoning himself a new set of clothes and climbing angrily into them.
“Forget it, you wouldn’t understand.”
Sylar let out a growl, grabbing Peter by the shoulder and spinning him around so that he couldn’t avoid his gaze any longer. “I understand everything, remember?”
Peter glared at him for a long moment, and Sylar half expected Peter to simply teleport away, but eventually he just let out a large sigh and sat back on the ground.
“She doesn’t need me anymore.” Peter admitted finally. “I’ve known it for a while, but now…”
They sat in silence for several minutes. Peter moped, and Sylar ruminated.
“Adam’s left the company,” He announced finally. “Claire only agreed if she knew he wasn’t working with me anymore, and Adam’s been bored with the operation for a while now.”
“So?”
“So we’re both losing our one friend who wouldn’t grow old and die like the rest of them.”
Peter raised an eyebrow, “The great Sylar is worried about getting lonely?”
“Not at all,” Sylar scoffed. “I’m just making a point.”
There must have been some lingering connection, because Sylar could tell that Peter had realized what he was thinking, and he doubted Peter had come to the correct conclusion on his own.
“I still hate you.” Peter insisted, though it sounded a bit too desperate to be true.
Sylar raised an eyebrow in amusement, “And yet here we are.” He gestured vaguely, managing to encompass their respective states of dishevelment and nudity in a single lazy gesture.
“It’s just-“ Peter paused, knowing there wasn’t much he could say to that. “It’s just sex.”
Sylar shrugged, standing, and in a blink he was fully dressed. Peter tried not to let his envy show. He could manifest clothes just fine, but his attempts to duplicated Sylar’s little trick had ended rather miserably.
“Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me.”
Sylar vanished without another word, and Peter sat in place pondering the situation for a long while after.
Eternity was a long time to spend alone.
Characters/Paring: Claire, Peter, Adam, Sylar, Lyle - Claire/Adam and Peter/Sylar
Rating: R
Spoilers: Vauge V3
Warnings: Future fic, so character deaths.
Word Count: 2400
Summary: AU after V2. Three moments in time, exploring what it's like to live forever.
Notes: Although this fic is not at all what cousinmary detailed, it was her comment on Mortality that inspired it.
-----
Noah Bennet’s funeral was sparsely attended. His son Lyle was there, with his wife and children. The others didn’t seem intent on offering comfort to the bereaved son. A few haggard faces even seemed show relief, or some odd sort of satisfaction. They didn’t linger.
After the ceremony was completed, Lyle’s family headed off to their car to provide him with some time alone. It was only then that the two people still lingering pulled down their hoods, revealing faces untouched by the ravages of time.
“I didn’t think you would come.” Lyle had changed a lot over the years. He’d become a man that a father could be proud of. He had learned at a young age that he had to look out for himself. He was fiercely protective of the family he had come to love, would die for them, but he would never do so through lies and deception. He knew better.
“He was still my father,” Claire replied softly. It was no secret that she hated him, had disowned him years ago, but she was not so heartless as to not mourn his passing.
Lyle couldn’t help staring at his older sister, though no one would believe that assertion now. Claire still looked eighteen and not a day older. Enough time had passed that she couldn’t be seen by anyone in her old life without causing a panic. The world was not a safe place for those with abilities. It wasn’t as bad as it had been for a while, but even though those like her who obeyed the law weren’t being hunted any longer, society still didn’t accept them. Fear had led to many unnecessary deaths, and she would always be in danger from those who coveted her eternal youth. Fortunately, there were few who would dare the wrath of her uncle.
Peter stood by her side, looking at Noah’s freshly dug grave with considerably more fondness than his niece. Peter hadn’t known him all that well, but Noah had helped him at a crucial moment in his life, and for all his mistakes he had meant well with his family. Peter could respect that.
“You haven’t aged a day…” Lyle had known that neither would, but after such a long time apart it was still hard to process.
“You look well,” Claire replied fondly, trying not to dwell on the fact that one day it would be her brother’s grave she was standing before. “I wish I could meet your children.”
Lyle nodded sadly, a loving glance directed in the direction of his car and family.
“You could always pretend to be a distant cousin or something,” Peter offered helpfully.
“Ya, maybe that could work,” Claire agreed faintly, unable to put any real conviction into her voice. They all knew it would never happen. Claire’s life was dangerous enough, and despite the hypocritical nature of her convictions, she stayed away to protect her family.
“I should go, they’ll ask questions.”
Claire nodded, “I’ll write.” It was one promise she could keep.
Lyle stood, shuffling his feet for a moment, indecisive, before throwing his arms around his immortal sister, hugging her fiercely.
“I love you,” he whispered.
“I love you too,” she replied emphatically.
He and Peter shook hands, “Keep her safe,” and then Lyle left. Claire wondered if she would see him again before it was his funeral she was attending.
Peter squeezed her shoulder reassuringly, what little comfort he could offer, as they watched the car recede into the distance.
The silence that fell over the graveyard only lasted a moment.
“I know you’re there.”
Claire shot a startled glance at Peter, one that swiftly shifted to the form that shimmered into visibility. Sylar still looked the same as the day he had sawed open Claire’s skull to take his share of her immortality, but Claire found that she felt no fear in his presence. It was more than just that she no longer had anything he wanted. Despite knowing the horrors he could still inflict, she found herself calm in the face of the man who had once terrified her.
“You’d better not be here for a fight.” Claire bit out. Sylar considered fighting with Peter one of his favourite pastimes, or something like that. She wasn’t sure, but it was the best explanation she could come up with. He certainly hadn’t seemed intent on killing Peter the last few times, and there was no one else who could challenge him.
“I’m not,” Sylar replied with a shrug, his trademark grin not in evidence. His glare was focused on the grave. He seemed not to care about his audience.
Peter took a step from Claire’s side. He was putting himself between her and danger, but he wasn’t expecting a fight. Sylar was adept at keeping his thoughts hidden, but his emotions were laid bare to Peter’s empathic senses.
“You really hated him.”
Sylar’s eyes flicked in Peter’s direction, that familiar anger at the emotional intrusion written in his eyes, but finally he shrugged.
“He hated me just as much.” With a look Peter couldn’t decipher, Sylar let out a dry chuckle. “I guess I get the last laugh.”
Life moved on.
---
“You have to admit, no one can understand what you’re going through like I can.”
“Peter-“
“Peter isn’t like us, Claire.” Adam leaned forward over the dining table, his expression as open and earnest as Claire had ever seen it. “Peter and Sylar, they really are gods among men. Hell, both have worshippers, even if they don’t want them.”
Claire let out a rather un-ladylike snort. “I’m sure Sylar just loves that.”
“You might be surprised,” Adam leaned back in his seat once more, expression distant. “A few hundred years changes a person, especially one with his talents.”
“Please, he’s always wanted to rule the world,” Claire refuted disbelievingly. She had come to accept that Sylar had mostly grown out of his sadistic tendencies, partially by expressing his frustrations in fights with Peter, but his ambition had never changed.
“He already does, in a way. The company we built influences governments the world ‘round, and his influence did more for our rights than anyone else.”
“Only because he can vaporize any force sent against him, and he only did it to help himself.”
Adam grinned, just a little. “The self-interest I’ll grant you, the attempts on his life and our operations were irritating him to no end, but there was more to the policy change than just brute force.”
Claire let out a disbelieving huff. Adam wasn’t surprised; she held a grudge against the man for more reasons than just the obvious. If only she knew the whole truth of the matter, he expected she would hate Sylar all the more; but even Adam wasn’t supposed to know about that, so he wasn’t about share.
“Anyway, I didn’t invite you here to talk about Sylar.”
“I’ll admit, it gets lonely sometimes,” Claire swirled her cocktail ponderously. “I don’t see Peter much anymore, not since things settled down, and my last marriage- well...”
“How is your daughter, by the way?”
“Sandra’s doing well.” Claire’s eyes lit up when she talked about her daughter. Her marriage may have ended in a spectacularly messy fashion, but she felt nothing but love for her child. “She and Kayla adopted a wonderful little boy. He has a gift for languages.”
“That’s a new one; very useful.”
Claire nodded, trying as always not to picture the day when she would be attending her daughter’s funeral; Lyle’s had been hard enough. Adam had a point there at least; she would never have to watch him die. Well, probably not. It was still possible, theoretically.
They sat in silence for a long moment. Adam could tell Claire was working up to saying something, and he was happy to wait.
“I don’t love you,” she finally managed.
“You thought you loved Joshua, and look how that turned out.” Adam offered cautiously, not wanting to upset Claire more than was necessary to drive the point home. “Love is an ephemeral thing. Mostly it flares up quickly, and fades with time. Sometimes, however, you can grow to love a person in a way that is less… physical.”
“You think that given enough time your charm will wear me down?” She seemed somewhat put out as she said it, but there was a playful glint in her eyes.
“I was thinking more like how you love family.”
There wasn’t much Claire could say to that, and it brought back a painful pang of loss.
“I’ll think about it.”
---
To the uniformed observer, it looked a little like a fireworks display. Lights danced and flashed, speeding across the sky with bangs and cracks, a violent ballet of sound and light and life and death.
These days they were careful to battle it out high enough in the atmosphere that they didn’t destroy anything on the ground, or knock planes out of the air. It was getting trickier to dodge ships bound for space, but it had become just another challenge. How much pain could they inflict on each other without getting innocents involved? Sylar didn’t mind so much, but Peter had threatened to stop playing, and chasing Peter down wasn’t nearly as much fun as fighting him. Besides which, Sylar had something of a reputation now, one that involved less murder and if not benevolence, then at least respectability. Causing another disaster, even a minor one, would show a lack of control, would weaken his influence, and he rather enjoyed his influence. He had plans for it.
The length of their battles was always fluid; never less than an hour, but sometimes considerably longer. On one memorable occasion they had battled across the globe for over a week. The ending, these days, was always the same, and it was always Sylar who broke first.
What should have been a killing blow, at least temporarily, turned into an exchange of an entirely different sort. Their kisses spoke of anger and lust and need. As clothing was torn off, phased out of or vaporized their bodies came together in a passion that neither had been able to explain, nor did they want to. Bruises formed and faded from desperately clutching grasps instead of stunning blows. Blood was drawn from fingernails biting into flesh, instead of the gaping wounds of battle. Pain was mingled with ecstasy, and by the time it was over a new sort of peace, serenity, settled over them both.
They lay in a field of green, a preserve of some sort, a tangle of limbs and sweat and the smell of sex. The aftermath had turned oddly intimate, especially for two people who still sort of hated each other. It had become an odd sort of ritual, a chance to talk with the one person who could possibly understand their unique challenges.
This time Sylar waited for Peter to speak first. It wasn’t often that he initiated the fight, and when he did it was always because something was bothering him.
“Claire and Adam got married,” he whispered, and it was clear that it pained him just to say it.
“Took them long enough,” Sylar replied stretching out on the grass, enjoying the warm summer breeze dancing over his naked flesh. “It’s been nearly a century since he asked.”
Peter didn’t reply and Sylar stifled a sigh. He was pouting, and Sylar really wished he didn’t care, but he was still incapable of ignoring something broken. People usually didn’t get to him, it was more systems and theories of science and politics and society he meddled with now, but Peter’s empathy tended to rub off on him after their exertions. Sometimes, in the moment, Sylar’s psychic defenses would drop, and the tangle of minds and emotions would leave him off balance for days.
“It’s not like he’s trying to destroy the world anymore.”
Peter sighed, “That’s not the point.” It would be pretty hypocritical too, given how his relationship with Sylar had evolved.
“Well then what is, dammit? I’m not in the mood for twenty questions.”
Peter rolled his eyes and stood up, summoning himself a new set of clothes and climbing angrily into them.
“Forget it, you wouldn’t understand.”
Sylar let out a growl, grabbing Peter by the shoulder and spinning him around so that he couldn’t avoid his gaze any longer. “I understand everything, remember?”
Peter glared at him for a long moment, and Sylar half expected Peter to simply teleport away, but eventually he just let out a large sigh and sat back on the ground.
“She doesn’t need me anymore.” Peter admitted finally. “I’ve known it for a while, but now…”
They sat in silence for several minutes. Peter moped, and Sylar ruminated.
“Adam’s left the company,” He announced finally. “Claire only agreed if she knew he wasn’t working with me anymore, and Adam’s been bored with the operation for a while now.”
“So?”
“So we’re both losing our one friend who wouldn’t grow old and die like the rest of them.”
Peter raised an eyebrow, “The great Sylar is worried about getting lonely?”
“Not at all,” Sylar scoffed. “I’m just making a point.”
There must have been some lingering connection, because Sylar could tell that Peter had realized what he was thinking, and he doubted Peter had come to the correct conclusion on his own.
“I still hate you.” Peter insisted, though it sounded a bit too desperate to be true.
Sylar raised an eyebrow in amusement, “And yet here we are.” He gestured vaguely, managing to encompass their respective states of dishevelment and nudity in a single lazy gesture.
“It’s just-“ Peter paused, knowing there wasn’t much he could say to that. “It’s just sex.”
Sylar shrugged, standing, and in a blink he was fully dressed. Peter tried not to let his envy show. He could manifest clothes just fine, but his attempts to duplicated Sylar’s little trick had ended rather miserably.
“Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me.”
Sylar vanished without another word, and Peter sat in place pondering the situation for a long while after.
Eternity was a long time to spend alone.