Fic- Whatever it takes 13
Title- Whatever it takes 13/?
Author- Faythbrady
Show/Ship- Heroes, Sylar/Claire, Peter/Emma
Warning- Swearing be here. PG-13
Disclaimer- I have magic powers. You will believe I own it all.
Summary- The beginning of all things start with a single step.
Chapter new
Gabriel had been a push-over, it had to be said- or rather it didn't have to be said because it was evident in every breath he took.
It had taken him until he was almost thirty before he got enough courage to move out of his mother's place and that was only after several rather long talks with himself about the subject (and one embarrassing incident with a toilet door that didn't quite bolt down and opened without a creak- something that was never, ever, EVER, mentioned in the Gray household again).
He had been bullied at school and taunted and teased by pretty much everyone there. He'd done homework for idiots and had to take packed lunches since so much of his money was stolen. Then as he'd grown, he'd got taller and they were less likely to take their anger out on him in flesh and more likely to just take what they wanted.
Yeah, Gabriel Gray had been a pushover. He'd allowed Elle and Noah to use him, he'd allowed Chandra to push him aside, call him ordinary and normal and then he'd snapped.
Sylar was a completely different animal. He'd learned from good old Gabriel's mistakes and knew how to stand his ground, and take everyone else's.
Sylar was never taken advantage of (except by Angela Petrelli and everyone knew how that turned out, and wondered how it was that she was still breathing- they put it down to either Angela's amazing roadrunner ability to defy death, or that Sylar was playing with his food). He was also most assuredly not a push-over in any sense of the word and was not about to be swayed by a pretty pair of brown eyes.
“No.”
“Please?”
“No.”
He folded his arms and stared resolutely ahead. No. No way. He'd made up his mind about this and there was no way he'd be swayed by anything that anyone said or did so she could jus-
he looked down.
Emma placed her hand on his arm and did something with her lips that made it look like she was seconds away from bursting into tears. Her eyes widened dramatically and a single tear welled up.
His heart clenched as she fluttered her eyes once and that big fat tear swelled up onto her lashes, hovering threateningly.
“Bu-But,” he stammered but it was no good. One sniff and he folded quicker than a pack of cards.
“Okay, fine.”
Emma beamed, the tear magically disappearing.
“Thank you.”
He scowled menacingly at her but she just smiled happily at him. He traced the track on her cheek where the tear had sat and shook his head in bewildered fascination.
“That is one useful ability,” he murmured.
“Very,” Emma reached behind her back and pulled out a silky scrap and his impressed look faded.
“Give me the damn thing,” he growled and snatched the odious piece of material off her. He stormed into the bedroom and slammed the door shut.
He leaned against the jamb heavily and gave the offensive piece of silk a glare designed specifically to incinerate it. If he wished it, this... abomination could go up in a wisp of smoke and no one would ever see it again. No one could force him to wear it.
Unless Emma started crying again.
Why was it that he couldn't bear to see her cry? She was Peter's fiancee, not his. Her well being was more Peter's outlook, so why did his gut clench when those tears came out, even though he knew they were fake?
He'd had women cry in front of him before, cry, scream plead for their lives and it had never affected him (other than to make him grin and he was in therapy for that particular quirk- as soon as he found a therapist who wouldn't have him sectioned and sentenced. So really therapy was going to be a while in coming.)
Damn this whole friendship thing, it was turning him back into Gabriel. He should just storm out there, throw it in her face and say no.
Okay, she would get scared and cry even more and for real this time and Peter would never speak to him again but surely he didn't like his friend that much?
This much? Really?
He thought of Peter's disappointed face, of Emma's sad one and Claire's I-told-you-he-hadn't-changed face and gave in.
He covered his face and groaned out loud before pushing himself away from the door and heading for the closet.
>
“Okay, I'm coming out,” he called and then kicked himself as he realized that Emma wouldn't be able to hear him. He sighed and opened the bedroom door only to be greeted by three grinning faces.
“Well, I'll be damned,” Claire said with a broad grin, “you actually got him to wear it!”
“I thought for sure he'd rather kill you,” Peter said in amazement.
“What?” Sylar folded his arms across his chest defensively.
“I never thought she'd wear him down.” Claire shook her head. “I figured him for more staying power.”
“That's my girl,” Peter brought a grin up to hide his smirk, but it was way too late.
“What?” Sylar growled.
Emma put her hands on her hips. “I win, pay up.”
Sylar's jaw dropped as Claire and Peter both fished in their pocket for a couple of dollars and pressed them into Emma's waiting hands. She pocketed her winnings with glee.
“You bet on me?” His voice squeaked as it got higher.
“Dude, I never thought you'd actually cave,” Peter walked forward with a laugh. Sylar was not amused, his gaze could have melted Peter on the spot.
There was a flash and for a panicked second Sylar wondered if he'd lost control and actually flash-fried his best friend but the glare faded and he saw Claire tuck her phone into her pocket.
“I am so keeping that,” she giggled.
“Claire!”
Sylar had enough and reached down, ripping the lemon yellow cummerbund from around his waist and yanking at the yellow bow tie. He held both pieces of material in his hand and they went up in flash of light and a puff of smoke.
“Aww,” Peter said. “You looked so cute in that.”
“You,” Sylar growled pointing his finger at Peter, “are dead to me.”
“Sure things, pal,” Peter grinned. He knew Sylar didn't mean it and the annoyed look on his face only made him grin harder. “Revenge best served chilled, isn't that what you say?”
“No,” he corrected, dusting his hands off, “I say Pinot Noir should be served chilled, revenge is best served bloody and and screaming. Care to try that one?”
“Relax,” Peter shot him a lopsided smile. “It was a joke.”
“Hah freaking hah.”
“You know canary yellow accessories aside,” Claire said thoughtfully. “It is actually a good look for you.” She flushed slightly and all of the argument went out of Sylar as he spied the tinge of pink.
“Really?”
Claire shrugged one shoulder. “I always thought guys look great in tuxes.”
And of course, Sylar looked better than most.
He looked handsome, sexy even and she was having a hard time keeping her tone playful. Damn Amanda and Tracey!
They had picked up a few friends and come over to Emma's the night before to talk about the finer details and ended up rip roaring drunk trying to get Emma to relax. Somehow the conversation turned to sex.
“Toliver makes fire,” Amanda offered, talking about her new boyfriend, “that's pretty cool. He keeps, like, a million candles by the bed and wham, instant romance.”
“Cute,” Dani grabbed some dip. “I always wanted to try Nakamura.”
“Hiro?” Claire squeaked.
“Hell yeah, the guy can freeze time and slow it down. Wanna know what it's like to be stuck in the big O for an hour?”
“Oh god, I can't hear this!” Claire looked half fascinated and half horrified which, to be fair, was pretty much how she felt. Whilst she prided herself on being open-minded and even enthusiastic about the integration of powers into mainstream life she had never sat down and tried to figure powers into the bedroom.
Clearly she was in a minority. God, these women should be writing fan fiction.
“How about telepathy- know exactly where to touch. Hello Freddy Marr.”
“Matt Parkman. Telekinesis, don't have to use the hands.”
“Jackson. Body manipulation, touch everywhere simultaneously.”
“Eli, complete ass but multiple copies?”
“Hell yeah.”
“Right there with ya.”
“Kinky yet monogamous.”
“What about you, Claire?” Amanda asked suddenly. “Who would you like to bed?”
“I-,” she swallowed, “I've never thought about it.”
“Really?” There was patent disbelief from every one in the room.
“Never?” Emma shifted to look at her. There was curiosity in her eyes as much as a challenge.
“You were a teenager, right?” Tracey scoffed and Claire felt her hackles rise.
“I spent most of my teen years on the run from people who wanted to kill me or experiment on me,” she said coldly, “not much time for fantasies.”
Her icy words turned the mood slightly and she felt guilty for being a downer.
“I kinda fancied Peter before I knew he was my uncle,” she offered as recompense and Emma giggled.
“I think he liked you too,” she signed, “then he said it got icky.”
Claire laughed. “That it did.”
“So no one?” Amanda pushed. “But you, like, have a line to hottie central. You must have wondered. Ando, Suresh, Bradley, Simon, hell even Evan is cute if you squint.”
Claire shook her head. “Sorry.”
“Maybe good guys don't do it for Claire,” Dani leaned forward. “It's the bad boys, right? Flint?”
“Also my uncle,” Claire pointed out.
“Ok so, Adam? Knox?”
“No.”
“Eddie? Quinn?”
“Sorry. No.”
“Sylar.”
Claire choked on her wine. “What?”
Tracey raised her glass to her knowing smile. “Every power, every danger, every fantasy. Sylar is pretty much the quintessential bad boy.”
“Not anymore” Emma pointed out.
“Even better; a redeemed bad boy,” Tracey shivered. “The best kind.”
Claire looked around the room in amazement as not one woman seemed to share her shock.
“Seriously. Sylar?”
“We're not dead, honey,” Tracey rolled her eyes. “He is one fine specimen.”
“Sex on legs,” Devon drained her glass. “Those bedroom eyes.”
“The arms,” Dani sighed. “Strong muscular masculine arms.”
Amanda giggled. “Ass. Fine ass.”
“Sylar is very attractive.”
“Emma!” Claire's eyebrows rose.
“I'm deaf, not blind,” she signed. “I love Peter but Sylar is handsome.”
“It's the voice that gets me,” Amanda shuddered. “the way it rolls from his throat is like satin in a storm.”
Claire's eyebrows stayed high as she sipped her tequila. “Poetic.”
“Plus mom always said that he was a great potential fuck.”
The tequila sprayed everywhere.
“Oh god, your mom!”
Amanda grinned at Claire.
“Sure, Samuel had her seduce him into staying, mom said he was great the first time but he did kinda have amnesia so he was like a kid in a candy store, wanted it all.”
“My brain!”
“The second time was when he was getting back as Sylar and he had...uh, performance issues.”
“Your mom told you this?” she was incredulous. Okay she spoke with Sandra and even Meredith about boys but she wouldn't have given them details or asked them about their sexual partners. Was she the most innocent person on the planet?
“Sure,” Amanda shrugged. “No big deal.”
Something poked Claire. “Uh, didn't Sylar kill your mom?”
Amanda nodded. “Yeah. He came back to apologize and I screamed and hit him with a crowbar. He bled, he crawled. We got over it. Besides he's not the only one who's killed,” she looked away, “whoever is without sin cast the first stone and all that.”
“Okay, okay,” Claire shook her head, trying to get images of Lydia and Sylar out of her brain, “so why did none of you ever go for him? I mean, he's single. If he's such hot property why have none of you dated him?”
“A couple of reasons,” Tracey said, “first, and I'm not ashamed to admit this- he still scares the crap outta me.”
“Me too.”
“And me.”
“Me three.”
“Hell yeah, shit scared.”
“Second, there is such a thing as biting off more than you can chew. He has a temper, he was a murderer, I hear he has 'issues'. Baggage like you wouldn't believe. Hot but psycho, even as redeemed as he is, honey he's more man than I could handle.”
Claire stared at Tracey's suddenly sombre face.
“He's a good guy,” she said slowly, almost as if the words were being dragged out of her. “Sylar may have had his problems but he's trying.”
Right now she was trying to ignore the snug fit of a well-defined jacket and tuck her hormones back in where they belonged. Damn Tracey!
She swallowed and turned back to Peter and Emma who hadn't noticed her lingering looks.
“Well we're gonna head out,” Peter said suddenly. “We've got reservations.”
“And I want you to clear out so I can get my hands on your stuff!”
There was an uncomfortable moment's silence and Claire flushed.
“I meant your paperwork, jeez!”
“Ah yeah, Emma said she hired you,” Peter had the oddest smirk on his face. “You don't have to call me boss.”
“I wasn't planning on it,” she said sweetly.
Emma reached for his hand. “Peter, we have to go.”
“Have fun,” Claire said, “and when you get back all this-” she motioned around the piles of paper “-will be a bad dream.”
Something about her voice made Peter freeze. His eyes widened. “Uh, maybe this isn't such a great idea, Emma-”
“Bye!” Emma ignored his protests and dragged him out of the apartment.
Claire grinned at the closed door and sighed happily as she rolled up her sleeves as she faced the table. Okay so time to get down to some serious organization.
She needed to separate the paperwork into work and personal and put Peter's bills and junk mail in a safe place so he could sort through that on his own. Then she needed, lets see, one pile for financial things- invoices, expenses and the like- and another for personnel kinds of files. Then she needed-
She turned and only just resisted the urge to scream.
Sylar was standing behind her, leaning against the door in a pose eerily reminiscent of the first time she'd really seen his face.
She'd been so engrossed in what she had to do that she'd forgotten that Sylar was even there.
How the hell she'd managed that was anybody's guess.
As she faced his little boy grin it occurred to her that this was the first time she'd truly been alone with him since... well, that was probably best not remembered.
She'd spoken to him alone in rooms but usually Peter or Emma were nearby and he'd flown to her rescue but that was outside in full view of the public.
Here and now they were as alone as they could be. The door was shut and no one would come if she screamed.
Something dropped in her stomach and she wasn't sure if it was fear or anticipation.
Anticipating what, she wasn't sure but the smile that flit around her face was hesitant and Sylar's face dropped on seeing it.
He messed with his cuffs and looked down.
“I'm not gonna hurt you, Claire.”
His voice was pained and Claire felt like she'd just kicked a puppy. A Rottweiler puppy that could turn at any minute but a puppy nonetheless. Sylar all but kicked his feet against the carpet and she bit her lip.
“I know that.”
He shivered slightly and gave her a disapproving look. “Inbuilt lie detector.”
It was on her tongue to ask how he got that ability and how was that supposed to make her feel safe but she stopped herself. Recriminations and screaming might be awesome therapy and, possibly, even needed to be addressed at some point down the line but not today.
She sighed heavily and moved towards the table. “Okay, Logically I know that. Emotionally it's kinda instinct. Old habits die hard... harder than us anyways.”
She offered him a small smile as compensation and he took it gratefully.
“To be honest, I'm amazed sometimes that you can be in the same room as me without screaming.”
“Honestly, sometimes so am I.”
He shoved his hands into his pockets, staying by the door frame and hunching his shoulders. “Claire, I am sorry for what I've done to you. You have to know that.”
Claire trailed her fingers over one of the piles of paper on Peter's desk and didn't look up. “Are you?”
Sylar blinked, his head snapping up to stare at her back. “What?”
“Are you sorry, really sorry. Do you regret what you did? Regret killing Meredith and Nathan and Jackie and everyone else? Regret taking my ability, stalking me. Are you really sorry?”
Author- Faythbrady
Show/Ship- Heroes, Sylar/Claire, Peter/Emma
Warning- Swearing be here. PG-13
Disclaimer- I have magic powers. You will believe I own it all.
Summary- The beginning of all things start with a single step.
Chapter new
Gabriel had been a push-over, it had to be said- or rather it didn't have to be said because it was evident in every breath he took.
It had taken him until he was almost thirty before he got enough courage to move out of his mother's place and that was only after several rather long talks with himself about the subject (and one embarrassing incident with a toilet door that didn't quite bolt down and opened without a creak- something that was never, ever, EVER, mentioned in the Gray household again).
He had been bullied at school and taunted and teased by pretty much everyone there. He'd done homework for idiots and had to take packed lunches since so much of his money was stolen. Then as he'd grown, he'd got taller and they were less likely to take their anger out on him in flesh and more likely to just take what they wanted.
Yeah, Gabriel Gray had been a pushover. He'd allowed Elle and Noah to use him, he'd allowed Chandra to push him aside, call him ordinary and normal and then he'd snapped.
Sylar was a completely different animal. He'd learned from good old Gabriel's mistakes and knew how to stand his ground, and take everyone else's.
Sylar was never taken advantage of (except by Angela Petrelli and everyone knew how that turned out, and wondered how it was that she was still breathing- they put it down to either Angela's amazing roadrunner ability to defy death, or that Sylar was playing with his food). He was also most assuredly not a push-over in any sense of the word and was not about to be swayed by a pretty pair of brown eyes.
“No.”
“Please?”
“No.”
He folded his arms and stared resolutely ahead. No. No way. He'd made up his mind about this and there was no way he'd be swayed by anything that anyone said or did so she could jus-
he looked down.
Emma placed her hand on his arm and did something with her lips that made it look like she was seconds away from bursting into tears. Her eyes widened dramatically and a single tear welled up.
His heart clenched as she fluttered her eyes once and that big fat tear swelled up onto her lashes, hovering threateningly.
“Bu-But,” he stammered but it was no good. One sniff and he folded quicker than a pack of cards.
“Okay, fine.”
Emma beamed, the tear magically disappearing.
“Thank you.”
He scowled menacingly at her but she just smiled happily at him. He traced the track on her cheek where the tear had sat and shook his head in bewildered fascination.
“That is one useful ability,” he murmured.
“Very,” Emma reached behind her back and pulled out a silky scrap and his impressed look faded.
“Give me the damn thing,” he growled and snatched the odious piece of material off her. He stormed into the bedroom and slammed the door shut.
He leaned against the jamb heavily and gave the offensive piece of silk a glare designed specifically to incinerate it. If he wished it, this... abomination could go up in a wisp of smoke and no one would ever see it again. No one could force him to wear it.
Unless Emma started crying again.
Why was it that he couldn't bear to see her cry? She was Peter's fiancee, not his. Her well being was more Peter's outlook, so why did his gut clench when those tears came out, even though he knew they were fake?
He'd had women cry in front of him before, cry, scream plead for their lives and it had never affected him (other than to make him grin and he was in therapy for that particular quirk- as soon as he found a therapist who wouldn't have him sectioned and sentenced. So really therapy was going to be a while in coming.)
Damn this whole friendship thing, it was turning him back into Gabriel. He should just storm out there, throw it in her face and say no.
Okay, she would get scared and cry even more and for real this time and Peter would never speak to him again but surely he didn't like his friend that much?
This much? Really?
He thought of Peter's disappointed face, of Emma's sad one and Claire's I-told-you-he-hadn't-changed face and gave in.
He covered his face and groaned out loud before pushing himself away from the door and heading for the closet.
>
“Okay, I'm coming out,” he called and then kicked himself as he realized that Emma wouldn't be able to hear him. He sighed and opened the bedroom door only to be greeted by three grinning faces.
“Well, I'll be damned,” Claire said with a broad grin, “you actually got him to wear it!”
“I thought for sure he'd rather kill you,” Peter said in amazement.
“What?” Sylar folded his arms across his chest defensively.
“I never thought she'd wear him down.” Claire shook her head. “I figured him for more staying power.”
“That's my girl,” Peter brought a grin up to hide his smirk, but it was way too late.
“What?” Sylar growled.
Emma put her hands on her hips. “I win, pay up.”
Sylar's jaw dropped as Claire and Peter both fished in their pocket for a couple of dollars and pressed them into Emma's waiting hands. She pocketed her winnings with glee.
“You bet on me?” His voice squeaked as it got higher.
“Dude, I never thought you'd actually cave,” Peter walked forward with a laugh. Sylar was not amused, his gaze could have melted Peter on the spot.
There was a flash and for a panicked second Sylar wondered if he'd lost control and actually flash-fried his best friend but the glare faded and he saw Claire tuck her phone into her pocket.
“I am so keeping that,” she giggled.
“Claire!”
Sylar had enough and reached down, ripping the lemon yellow cummerbund from around his waist and yanking at the yellow bow tie. He held both pieces of material in his hand and they went up in flash of light and a puff of smoke.
“Aww,” Peter said. “You looked so cute in that.”
“You,” Sylar growled pointing his finger at Peter, “are dead to me.”
“Sure things, pal,” Peter grinned. He knew Sylar didn't mean it and the annoyed look on his face only made him grin harder. “Revenge best served chilled, isn't that what you say?”
“No,” he corrected, dusting his hands off, “I say Pinot Noir should be served chilled, revenge is best served bloody and and screaming. Care to try that one?”
“Relax,” Peter shot him a lopsided smile. “It was a joke.”
“Hah freaking hah.”
“You know canary yellow accessories aside,” Claire said thoughtfully. “It is actually a good look for you.” She flushed slightly and all of the argument went out of Sylar as he spied the tinge of pink.
“Really?”
Claire shrugged one shoulder. “I always thought guys look great in tuxes.”
And of course, Sylar looked better than most.
He looked handsome, sexy even and she was having a hard time keeping her tone playful. Damn Amanda and Tracey!
They had picked up a few friends and come over to Emma's the night before to talk about the finer details and ended up rip roaring drunk trying to get Emma to relax. Somehow the conversation turned to sex.
“Toliver makes fire,” Amanda offered, talking about her new boyfriend, “that's pretty cool. He keeps, like, a million candles by the bed and wham, instant romance.”
“Cute,” Dani grabbed some dip. “I always wanted to try Nakamura.”
“Hiro?” Claire squeaked.
“Hell yeah, the guy can freeze time and slow it down. Wanna know what it's like to be stuck in the big O for an hour?”
“Oh god, I can't hear this!” Claire looked half fascinated and half horrified which, to be fair, was pretty much how she felt. Whilst she prided herself on being open-minded and even enthusiastic about the integration of powers into mainstream life she had never sat down and tried to figure powers into the bedroom.
Clearly she was in a minority. God, these women should be writing fan fiction.
“How about telepathy- know exactly where to touch. Hello Freddy Marr.”
“Matt Parkman. Telekinesis, don't have to use the hands.”
“Jackson. Body manipulation, touch everywhere simultaneously.”
“Eli, complete ass but multiple copies?”
“Hell yeah.”
“Right there with ya.”
“Kinky yet monogamous.”
“What about you, Claire?” Amanda asked suddenly. “Who would you like to bed?”
“I-,” she swallowed, “I've never thought about it.”
“Really?” There was patent disbelief from every one in the room.
“Never?” Emma shifted to look at her. There was curiosity in her eyes as much as a challenge.
“You were a teenager, right?” Tracey scoffed and Claire felt her hackles rise.
“I spent most of my teen years on the run from people who wanted to kill me or experiment on me,” she said coldly, “not much time for fantasies.”
Her icy words turned the mood slightly and she felt guilty for being a downer.
“I kinda fancied Peter before I knew he was my uncle,” she offered as recompense and Emma giggled.
“I think he liked you too,” she signed, “then he said it got icky.”
Claire laughed. “That it did.”
“So no one?” Amanda pushed. “But you, like, have a line to hottie central. You must have wondered. Ando, Suresh, Bradley, Simon, hell even Evan is cute if you squint.”
Claire shook her head. “Sorry.”
“Maybe good guys don't do it for Claire,” Dani leaned forward. “It's the bad boys, right? Flint?”
“Also my uncle,” Claire pointed out.
“Ok so, Adam? Knox?”
“No.”
“Eddie? Quinn?”
“Sorry. No.”
“Sylar.”
Claire choked on her wine. “What?”
Tracey raised her glass to her knowing smile. “Every power, every danger, every fantasy. Sylar is pretty much the quintessential bad boy.”
“Not anymore” Emma pointed out.
“Even better; a redeemed bad boy,” Tracey shivered. “The best kind.”
Claire looked around the room in amazement as not one woman seemed to share her shock.
“Seriously. Sylar?”
“We're not dead, honey,” Tracey rolled her eyes. “He is one fine specimen.”
“Sex on legs,” Devon drained her glass. “Those bedroom eyes.”
“The arms,” Dani sighed. “Strong muscular masculine arms.”
Amanda giggled. “Ass. Fine ass.”
“Sylar is very attractive.”
“Emma!” Claire's eyebrows rose.
“I'm deaf, not blind,” she signed. “I love Peter but Sylar is handsome.”
“It's the voice that gets me,” Amanda shuddered. “the way it rolls from his throat is like satin in a storm.”
Claire's eyebrows stayed high as she sipped her tequila. “Poetic.”
“Plus mom always said that he was a great potential fuck.”
The tequila sprayed everywhere.
“Oh god, your mom!”
Amanda grinned at Claire.
“Sure, Samuel had her seduce him into staying, mom said he was great the first time but he did kinda have amnesia so he was like a kid in a candy store, wanted it all.”
“My brain!”
“The second time was when he was getting back as Sylar and he had...uh, performance issues.”
“Your mom told you this?” she was incredulous. Okay she spoke with Sandra and even Meredith about boys but she wouldn't have given them details or asked them about their sexual partners. Was she the most innocent person on the planet?
“Sure,” Amanda shrugged. “No big deal.”
Something poked Claire. “Uh, didn't Sylar kill your mom?”
Amanda nodded. “Yeah. He came back to apologize and I screamed and hit him with a crowbar. He bled, he crawled. We got over it. Besides he's not the only one who's killed,” she looked away, “whoever is without sin cast the first stone and all that.”
“Okay, okay,” Claire shook her head, trying to get images of Lydia and Sylar out of her brain, “so why did none of you ever go for him? I mean, he's single. If he's such hot property why have none of you dated him?”
“A couple of reasons,” Tracey said, “first, and I'm not ashamed to admit this- he still scares the crap outta me.”
“Me too.”
“And me.”
“Me three.”
“Hell yeah, shit scared.”
“Second, there is such a thing as biting off more than you can chew. He has a temper, he was a murderer, I hear he has 'issues'. Baggage like you wouldn't believe. Hot but psycho, even as redeemed as he is, honey he's more man than I could handle.”
Claire stared at Tracey's suddenly sombre face.
“He's a good guy,” she said slowly, almost as if the words were being dragged out of her. “Sylar may have had his problems but he's trying.”
Right now she was trying to ignore the snug fit of a well-defined jacket and tuck her hormones back in where they belonged. Damn Tracey!
She swallowed and turned back to Peter and Emma who hadn't noticed her lingering looks.
“Well we're gonna head out,” Peter said suddenly. “We've got reservations.”
“And I want you to clear out so I can get my hands on your stuff!”
There was an uncomfortable moment's silence and Claire flushed.
“I meant your paperwork, jeez!”
“Ah yeah, Emma said she hired you,” Peter had the oddest smirk on his face. “You don't have to call me boss.”
“I wasn't planning on it,” she said sweetly.
Emma reached for his hand. “Peter, we have to go.”
“Have fun,” Claire said, “and when you get back all this-” she motioned around the piles of paper “-will be a bad dream.”
Something about her voice made Peter freeze. His eyes widened. “Uh, maybe this isn't such a great idea, Emma-”
“Bye!” Emma ignored his protests and dragged him out of the apartment.
Claire grinned at the closed door and sighed happily as she rolled up her sleeves as she faced the table. Okay so time to get down to some serious organization.
She needed to separate the paperwork into work and personal and put Peter's bills and junk mail in a safe place so he could sort through that on his own. Then she needed, lets see, one pile for financial things- invoices, expenses and the like- and another for personnel kinds of files. Then she needed-
She turned and only just resisted the urge to scream.
Sylar was standing behind her, leaning against the door in a pose eerily reminiscent of the first time she'd really seen his face.
She'd been so engrossed in what she had to do that she'd forgotten that Sylar was even there.
How the hell she'd managed that was anybody's guess.
As she faced his little boy grin it occurred to her that this was the first time she'd truly been alone with him since... well, that was probably best not remembered.
She'd spoken to him alone in rooms but usually Peter or Emma were nearby and he'd flown to her rescue but that was outside in full view of the public.
Here and now they were as alone as they could be. The door was shut and no one would come if she screamed.
Something dropped in her stomach and she wasn't sure if it was fear or anticipation.
Anticipating what, she wasn't sure but the smile that flit around her face was hesitant and Sylar's face dropped on seeing it.
He messed with his cuffs and looked down.
“I'm not gonna hurt you, Claire.”
His voice was pained and Claire felt like she'd just kicked a puppy. A Rottweiler puppy that could turn at any minute but a puppy nonetheless. Sylar all but kicked his feet against the carpet and she bit her lip.
“I know that.”
He shivered slightly and gave her a disapproving look. “Inbuilt lie detector.”
It was on her tongue to ask how he got that ability and how was that supposed to make her feel safe but she stopped herself. Recriminations and screaming might be awesome therapy and, possibly, even needed to be addressed at some point down the line but not today.
She sighed heavily and moved towards the table. “Okay, Logically I know that. Emotionally it's kinda instinct. Old habits die hard... harder than us anyways.”
She offered him a small smile as compensation and he took it gratefully.
“To be honest, I'm amazed sometimes that you can be in the same room as me without screaming.”
“Honestly, sometimes so am I.”
He shoved his hands into his pockets, staying by the door frame and hunching his shoulders. “Claire, I am sorry for what I've done to you. You have to know that.”
Claire trailed her fingers over one of the piles of paper on Peter's desk and didn't look up. “Are you?”
Sylar blinked, his head snapping up to stare at her back. “What?”
“Are you sorry, really sorry. Do you regret what you did? Regret killing Meredith and Nathan and Jackie and everyone else? Regret taking my ability, stalking me. Are you really sorry?”