Fic- Whatever it takes 16
Title- Whatever it takes 16/?
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- All Luke seems to do is destroy, so what does he mean for Sylar and Claire?
Chapter 16 (good lord how long is this fic gonna be?)
Claire couldn't help but be curious. It was a vice that had often got her into trouble, mostly because her dad's secrets tended to be of the lethal kind, but she'd always been a nosy child, eyes wide and curious about the world she was living in and the people that inhabited it.
It was why she was currently trying to overhear the argument that was going on in Sylar's office.
For once, the door between his and Peter's office where she was working, was closed and, for the first time since she'd contemplated jumping off that damned Ferris wheel, Peter and Sylar were actually fighting.
She had heard the voices as soon as she had come back off her lunch break and just assumed that they were having one of their geek debates; seriously she'd had no idea that her beloved uncle was such a nerd. In fact she was seriously considering how anyone who could quote chapter and verse the first season of Battlestar Galactica could possibly be called a hero... or grown-up for that matter.
But this didn't seem like the usual Boomer verses Starbuck argument and she listened closer when she heard Peter actually swear.
“Dammit Sylar, I can't believe we're even talking about this!”
“Give it a shot, Peter. I thought we were all about redemption?”
“He isn't sorry! It isn't redemption if he's just doing this so you won't kill him.”
“Fear is as good a starting place as conscience.”
“You did not just say that.”
“It worked for me.”
“You were different.”
“Not so much.”
There was silence for a moment and Claire crept closer to the door. She heard Sylar sigh loudly and there was a creak of someone sitting on the edge of the desk.
“Look, Pete, I'm not saying he gets a free pass but surely we can do something.”
“Yeah, call Noah and get him transferred to juvie for a couple of months.”
“And when he melts it down?”
“I can say I told you so.”
“Dammit Peter!”
Claire frowned. That didn't sound like Peter, unwilling to give someone a chance. What was going on?
“Look,” Peter said so quietly that Claire had to strain to hear him. “I'm not saying that I don't want to help the kid, Sy, after all that's kinda what we do. I'm all about saving and helping but this guy was a problem even before your road trip. And I'm not having him stay at our apartment. Not so near Emma. And Claire. Do you want that kid near Claire?”
“No.” Sylar sighed again. “But we can't send him away, Pete. He's on the edge of becoming a villain and needs someone there to stop him. He needs, for a better phrase, a role model.”
“And you-”
“God no! Not me. I meant you. Peter. I would suck as a role model. I meant for him to spend time around you.”
Claire found a smile curving her face. She knew how Peter would react to that and she was right.
“Aw man, you can't do that emotional blackmail stuff. It isn't fair.”
“You're the best person I know.” Heartfelt and not just a little amused.
“Dammit! Okay, fine. He can't stay with us but I think I know someone who needs a roomie. One of the kids- Sam. He's staying in town for a couple of months in one of our hideaways and could probably deal with someone his own age.”
“Sam... Dungeon master?”
“Yeah.”
There was another long pause. “So, what you're saying is we put one trigger happy geek with the ability to make fire-breathing monsters out of household items in a room with another trigger happy teenager who likes to melt things.”
“... it's not like we were expecting to get the security deposit back.”
Claire grinned and stepped back away from the door.
So Sylar's mission had been to find some kid who was heading towards the dark side and was trying to reign him in. It was sweet, she could almost see Sylar as a mentor type with a teenage boy telling him to watch his manners and get his feet off the table.
She turned and slammed face first into a tall skinny body.
“Ow!” Claire said and then felt immediately stupid. It hadn't hurt. Nothing hurt. Saying 'ow' was just reflex and made her feel dumb. She stepped back and looked up.
The scowl on the boy's face was directed at her and set her back up immediately. Okay, so she should have been watching where she was going but he shouldn't have been standing right behind her.
“Excuse me,” she said in her most haughty tone.
“No.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “What?”
His chin raised as he nodded to the door. “You were listening in. Typical girl being nosy about stuff that doesn't concern you.”
His eyes were cold, cold and mean and Claire felt a little uneasy at having this boy so close to her.
She stepped back and he followed smirking at her actions.
Claire clenched her jaw. “I have no idea who you are but you need to back off right now.”
His grin was nasty. “I don't think so.”
Claire made to move past him but his hand shot out lightning quick and wrapped around her upper arm, his fingers tightened.
“Let go.”
“Uh no.”
Claire wrenched her arm back and forth but the boy had a surprisingly firm grip and his touch was getting warm. Her eyes dropped to the slight tinge of red surrounding his hand.
“What are you doing?”
The boy's grin widened. “Just a little something I picked up on the road. Like it?”
Claire frowned. “You're a microwave manipulator.”
“What?”
“The ability to convert electromagnetic energy into microwaves and manipulate it into various effects such as heat, light, and radiation. I knew one guy- Ted Sprague who was literally radioactive.” Claire smirked. “I survived him so your little Hotpoint powers are kinda pointless to use on me.”
“Oh yeah?” he grimaced and Claire could smell charred flesh.
“You're ruining my shirt, asshole,” she said through gritted teeth.
“I'll do more than that,” he hissed back, “you think this is painful, you just wait to see what my friend's gonna do to you.”
>>
Peter raked his hand through his hair and nodded. “Okay, so if Noah agrees-”
“Wait!” Sylar held up his hand cutting Peter off mid-sentence. Peter frowned but Sylar was no longer paying him any attention.
There was something wrong. Something really wrong and he couldn't quite put his finger on it.
Maybe it was his empathy or some other random power he'd picked up but his whole body was screaming at him to move.
Before he even realized it he was at the door to his office, wrenching it open.
The tableau on the other side of the door made his insides freeze.
Luke was looming over Claire, his hand burning brightly, searing heat into her arm as he sneered down at her.
Claire's eyes were wide and glassy and her face was screwed up in anger.
Fury rolled through Sylar, igniting pure unadulterated rage in his belly until his veins throbbed and his heart pounded in his ears. An odd ticking was all the warning he had before something took over and his hand raised, telekinetically ripping Luke away from his precious girl.
Luke slammed against the far wall, narrowly missing being impaled by a framed photograph. His hands flailed out, knocking several books off a nearby shelf but Sylar didn't care. Couldn't care.
All he could see was a threat. Someone who had hurt his Claire. Someone who needed teaching a lesson.
His hand raised higher and fingers twitched.
Luke scrabbled at his throat, gasping as his air-flow began constricting. He kicked his legs, slamming them against the wall.
“Uh, Sy. You can stop now.”
No. He was nothing. He had laid his hand on Sylar's property and that was punishable by death. No second chances, no regrets. No mercy. No one hurt his Claire. No one.
Red swirled in Sylar's vision.
“Sy? Sylar?” Something moved in his periphery. “Hey, buddy. Sylar. Stop!”
Sylar growled.
“Sylar, you need to let him down. Dude stop!”
He didn't need to do anything. He was Sylar, there was no one better. No one stronger. Electricity flashed across his fingertips, lighting up the air in blue sparks.
He was going to fry this little brat. Then he was going to take his power. He had to. The Hunger was thrumming in his veins. He had to just take what he wanted, take it and make him scream until-
“Sylar?” The voice was different. Softer, sweeter and familiar.
A gentle touch stayed his hand and he looked down to slender dainty fingers on his skin. Blonde hair stepped into his field of vision and the red haze ebbed away, leaving soft pink cheeks, green eyes and a concerned expression on a beautiful face.
Her face.
Claire.
Sylar shuddered and dropped his hand. Luke fell to the floor with a bang and a wheeze, gasping and coughing as he fought for air.
Sylar stepped back, blinking. His head was a mess. He could still feel the rage but under that, over that something was pushing its way to the front, trying to make itself be heard. He couldn't see, couldn't think.
Claire touched his hand again and he focused on her.
“Claire?”
“Hey,” she gave him a small smile. “Are you okay?”
“Is he okay?” gasped the boy on the floor.
Peter gently kicked him. “If he's not okay then you become crispy fries. His health is kinda your concern right now.”
Luke nodded quickly. “Is he okay?”
Claire rolled at eyes at them and reached up, sliding her hand over his face. “Sylar?”
Sylar swallowed. “Y-yeah. I'm okay.”
“Well, if he's okay.”
Peter kicked him again.
Sylar shook his head and the rest of the confusion left him. He was in his office with Peter trying to plead for him to take care of ... ah.
“Luke.”
“Yes, Luke. Not shish-ka-bob.” The boy clambered to his feet. “What the hell dude?”
“Are you injured?” Peter asked, checking his over quickly.
“He threw me into a fu- fricking wall. Of course I'm injured!”
“If you can bitch you're not too badly hurt,” Claire said crossly.
“Hey, this is all your fault you nosy bi-”
In two strides Sylar grabbed hold of the scruff of his shirt and had him slammed against the wall again, this time it was brute force rather than strength of will that helped.
“You might want to consider very carefully the next few words that come out of your mouth,” he hissed. “I have some... rather strong views about what will happen to you otherwise. Are you going to finish that sentence?”
Luke, perhaps for the first time in his life, chose to do the smart thing and said nothing.
Sylar smirked. “Good choice. This is your first lesson in how not to screw up your life. Stop attacking people and showing off your powers. I'm not impressed, dude. Trying to char boil girls is a way of a- never getting laid and b- ending up in a very bad place. Whether that's jail, a science lab or my bad books is all up to you but from here on out you do not use your power without permission. Got it?”
“Je-”
“No swearing or blaspheming either. My way or the highway, Luke. Do you understand?”
“Yes. I understand.” Luke started to touch the elbow in his throat but changed his mind, his eyes wide at Sylar's proximity.
“Luke Campbell this is Peter Petrelli, the closest thing to a brother I have and this is Claire Bennet his niece. If you hurt her, if you upset her, if you so much as look at her the wrong way again I will make sure that no one finds the little pieces of you that survive. Understand?”
Luke nodded quickly.
“Apologize to her for the language you used and the fact that you were trying to burn a hole through her arm.”
Luke grimaced. “I'm not-”
Sylar added a little pressure to his forearm and gave Luke his very best restrained serial killer look. Psychosis edged with calm.
“I'm not asking.”
“Sorry,” Luke bit out and Sylar stepped back.
“Claire, Peter this is Luke Campbell.”
“Hi!” Peter waved pleasantly, like they had just met at a garden party. “It's nice to meet you but you are not sleeping on my couch on account of you being a little crazy. No offense meant.”
“None taken.” Luke said, rubbing his throat. He glared at Sylar but the psychotic serial killer wasn't looking at him. Instead his gaze was intent on the girl who Luke had just tried to barbeque.
She was pulling at the shirt sleeve with a burn mark in it and pushing it up to reveal...
nothing.
“Hey!” Luke started forward but Sylar's hand twitched and he froze. “You've healed!”
Claire flicked her glance from her unblemished arm to Luke. “Yeah, so?”
“That's cool.” Luke enthused. “So, like, I could have burnt right through and nada?”
“If you'd burnt through her arm,” Sylar said calmly, “I'd be looking for someplace to bury you about now.”
“Right, sure,” Luke bit his lip and then smiled uneasily at Claire. “As powers go, it's not like telekinesis or anything but healing is pretty cool.” Luke gave Claire a once over and gave her what he assumed was a charming smile. “Very pretty.”
Luke's eyes were bright and it was like he had all but forgotten that he had tried to incinerate Claire moments ago. Sylar shook his head. He had never known anyone- other than Hiro- who could bounce back quite so quickly. Luke Campbell had thicker skin than a rhino.
“But seriously, uh sorry about that. I thought you were a threat to my pal, Sylar. He can heal too ya know.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Where do you think he got it?”
Luke wrinkled his nose. “He said he got it from a wicked hot cheerleader with a great ass.”
Peter clapped a hand over his mouth to hide the bark of laughter that erupted as Sylar very quickly turned the color of a tomato.
“I didn't actually say that!” Sylar protested, avoiding Claire's open mouth as she turned to him.
“Sure you did,” Luke continued oblivious, “although I think you said smoking hot cheerleader.”
“Smoking hot?”
Sylar closed his eyes against the definite amusement in Claire's voice. “Please shut up, Luke.”
“Why? Don't you remember? It was when we were talking about fantasies and you said the girl could bend like a pretzel and you wanted to-”
“Shut up!” Sylar growled and Luke took the hint.
Peter was now bent double, gasping and clutching his sides, tears rolling down his cheeks. “Dude, I didn't think humans were supposed to go that color.”
“I hate you all.” Sylar said, rubbing his face. He didn't even dare look at Claire who was alarmingly silent. He gnawed on his lower lip and changed a glance at her but she was facing away from him, her arms folded against her chest.
He wasn't sure what to say at this point. He'd not exactly hidden his feelings for Claire but then again he'd never really come out and said it to her either. Now Luke within five minutes of being here had managed to put his foot in it in the most spectacular of ways and just as Claire had been warming to him as well.
Son of a bitch.
What was she thinking now? Was she calling him a pervert? Was she remembering that at the time of these fantasies he had also been hunting people down and slicing open their heads? Was she thinking that she couldn't believe she was giving him a chance? Was she remembering everything that he had done? Why wouldn't she just turn around and look at him?
Peter finally managed to stop laughing and swiped the tears of amusement from his face. “Okay dude, well. Um, I'm going to take Luke here to visit Sam. Luke, we need to talk.”
“I kinda have to do what he says,” Luke inclined his head towards Sylar. “Is that okay, Sylar?”
“Whatever.” Sylar didn't take his eyes off Claire. “Go with Peter. He'll get you settled and we'll start talking redemption tomorrow.”
Peter clapped Luke on the back. “Until then we're going to have a little talk about something called full disclosure or when to keep your mouth shut.”
Sylar rolled his eyes as his brother led his pseudo protege out of the room.
Silence reigned.
Sylar tucked his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. Then he yanked them out and straightened his tie. After jamming his hands into his pockets for the third time he finally opened his mouth.
“Claire?” He winced at the almost desperate tone of his voice.
“Why would you do that?”
Why? Wasn't it obvious?
“You're hot,” he said honestly, “you're beyond hot. You're beautiful, Claire, you always have been and yes I had fantasies and, perhaps it isn't the most respectful-”
“No,” Claire gave a short laugh and turned to face him, “I didn't mean the fantasy thing. I meant why would you attack Luke?”
“Oh.”
For the first time since he had been that timid little watchmaker drowning in his own guilt, Sylar wished that he could actually die. Or he wished that Samuel Sullivan was still alive and could literally make the ground swallow him.
Instead he chose to just answer the question and wished he could get out of there with his sanity if not his dignity intact.
“I attacked Luke because he was hurting you.”
Claire rolled her eyes. “Invulnerable. And I can't feel pain. He wasn't hurting me. I can't be hurt, remember?”
Sylar took one step and reached for her hands.
“Yes you can,” he said simply, staring into her eyes.
She opened her mouth to deny that, to refute it and call him stupid for even suggesting but something in his expression stopped her and she just shook her head once.
“Physically, you can't be hurt, Claire but you forget. My main power was understanding. I understand everything and I get you. I get you in a way that no one ever will and I know that you can still be hurt. You're heart is bigger and more encompassing than any I've ever seen. You love so much, you forgive and you let people in. And people hurt you. Again and again and again. Noah, for one.”
“My dad-” she started but he held a finger to her lips, a soft smile on his face.
“I'm not going to trash him, Claire, you don't need to defend him to me. But just the fact that you would after everything,. The fact that you forgive him even if you don't trust him says so much, the fact that you saved Doyle, the fact that you even speak to me. You're amazing Claire but you're also vulnerable.”
“I'm really not,” she whispered.
But she was and in ways that he didn't want to bring to her attention. He didn't want to give her those truths, truths that would only hurt her but she needed to know, needed to hear them.
“Your boss tried to rape you and there was nothing you could do.”
Claire gasped at his blunt words and tried to yank her hands away but he held tight.
“Nathan strapped you to a plane and fed you drugs and there was nothing you could do. Doyle made you a puppet. I hurt you, terrorized you and there was nothing you could do. You are tiny, Claire, so tiny. And fragile. And you'll always be like this. You'll always look young and sweet and delicate and fragile and someone somewhere will always want to take advantage. Someone will always want to exploit that vulnerability. Someone will think you're weak and will come after you and there will be nothing you can do about it.”
“Stop it.”
“And you know it too. I know you do, I know you've seen it. I know that you've started to realize that you will forever be seventeen and forever be a victim..”
“Stop it!” Claire let tears well up in her eyes and it was Sylar's heart that ached for her.
“Luke wasn't hurting you physically, but you felt helpless and you felt vulnerable and I couldn't stand by and watch as he hurt you. I never will. Claire. I never will.”
“What?”
“I'm strong, powerful,” he shrugged with a small hint of modesty, “maybe one of the most powerful men on the planet. But more than that, better than that. I'm also immortal, Claire. You may be forever seventeen but you are also forever protected.” He pulled her hands and placed them against his heart so she could feel the beat and the pulse against her palms, feel the tremor right down to her blood. “I vow to you that if it is within my power no one will ever hurt you. For the rest of eternity. I will protect you. I'll always come for you anytime you need me. Always.”
Claire's eyes searched his, looking for something in his face, searching for something in his expression.
“You'll always be there?” her voice was so small but he had no trouble hearing it. He nodded once.
“Why?”
He opened his mouth to tell her. He started to spill his guts, to drop his heart at her feet, but he couldn't do it. The old Claire would have rejected him, spat out at him that he was worthless and pathetic and that there was no way that she would ever, could ever be with him. That Claire he could deal with because she didn't know what he had been through, she didn't know what he was capable of in terms of redemption, and she didn't know who he could be. She rejected the premise of him and that was fine.
This Claire knew.
This Claire had front row seats to his rebirth and she was with him every day watching as he fought to be better. This Claire knew Sylar and if she rejected him it would be real. If she told him that there was no way that they could ever be together it would be with full knowledge of who he was and who he could be. She would be rejecting him.
And that would kill him.
“I-” he closed his mouth and just smiled. “Because I want to. Because there is no one else that will. Because one day we will be the only two people who remember who the Spice Girls were and can quote Firefly and that has got to mean something.”
Claire gave a short sharp laugh and swiped at her face. “I aim to misbehave, Zig-a-zig-ah.”
“One day that will make even less sense,” Sylar shrugged, smiling a little at her renewed strength. “Now I guess I've got to go and get Luke settled with Sam.”
“What are you gonna do with him?” Claire asked. “I mean, he seems a little trigger happy.”
“Tonight he stays with Sam and, if either one survive, then tomorrow we're gonna ask your dad to put him through The System.”
Claire raised one eyebrow. “The System?”
Sylar nodded. “It's a part of The Company that was set up to rehabilitate those with...uh behavioral problems.” His lips twitched. “There's psych evaluations, testing, lessons and training sessions. Kinda like boot camp for the sociopathically gifted.”
“Nut camp.”
He let loose a full grin. “It works.”
She gave him an openly skeptical look. “Did you go through it?”
“I designed it.”
“Nice.”
It was nice. He was ridiculously proud of his idea and it did work. It took Special's with problems and helped them to focus and deal with what they could do. Niall in accounting was one such success story- the poor man couldn't handle telepathy responsibly and had 'liberated' millions of dollars from unsuspecting citizens before he had been convinced to stop- and there were more coming in each day who wanted to be good people but had been seduced or corrupted by their powers. That was something Sylar could identify with and he was so pleased that he could help them, even in a small way. The System was a stroke of genius.
“It takes a month and, after that, if he passes then he can come shadow me.”
Claire smiled up at him. “So you're going to take the walking microwave and make him into a useful member of society? Good luck.”
“I don't need luck,” Sylar preened, “I have good looks, charm and intuitive adaptability.”
“You also have a big head and hero complex.”
He pouted. “Words hurt, Claire.”
“It's a good thing you are a hero then, isn't it?” she reached up and playfully tugged his tie. She bit her lower lip and looked up at him through her lashes almost flirtatiously.
Sylar swallowed hard. “Am I, Claire?”
“I told you you're my hero. My hero, my villain.” She stroked his tie absently, “Although not so much the villain anymore I guess. Sylar the mentor, Sylar the good guy.”
His heart swelled with every word, pride and delight and sheer joy swirling in his stomach.
“Sylar the brother. Sylar the partner. Sylar the... friend?”
“Is that what we are?” His voice was thick. The tiny fingers that stroked his tie were painting delicate patterns against the thin material of his shirt, searing his skin and causing an interesting reaction a little lower.
Claire flattened her hands, her small palms against his rib cage and then they slid apart, circling around to his back and, with one small step Claire was hugging him. She turned her head to the side and laid it against his chest, tucking her head under his chin.
He closed his eyes in acute sweet agony and just reveled in the feel of her, the essence of her against him. Claire in his personal space, touching him. Hugging him.
Claire was hugging him. Voluntarily and with full knowledge of who he was and what he had done.
Her affection was being freely given and if he could have had Hiro's power he would have paused this moment forever. He was so intent on memorizing the sensations that he almost didn't hear her next words.
“I don't know what we are, Sylar. But you're not the bad guy anymore.”
He stilled. “What?”
“I forgive you.”
>
For Sylar nothing could have prepared him for the sensation. He'd been with Hiro when the world had paused and this wasn't it. He'd felt the power of a million suns in his veins and it was nothing to this. He'd traveled through time and space and used Tracey's power to freeze and nothing compared.
He felt like every single molecule had just stopped, every noise on Earth had ceased except for the little beats of Claire's heart against his chest.
It held for one, two, three as his mind screamed denial and his soul pleaded for him to not be dreaming.
The stalemate broke and reality reasserted itself and it all rushed back. He remembered how to breathe and he gasped for precious oxygen even as his arms wrapped themselves around the warm body in front of him and anchored her.
“Say it again.”
“I forgive you.”
He shuddered but it came from extreme relief and not the result of his inbuilt lie detector. He clenched her tight and buried his face in her hair, her scent soothing him as much as her words.
“Claire,” he muttered, “Claire.”
He felt her smile against his chest and she tightened her own grip saying nothing but allowing the embrace to continue.
He had no idea what had prompted this, no idea what madness possessed her or what had changed but this was what he had been longing for for years and to finally have it was nothing short of euphoric.
“I'll earn it,” he vowed, his lips pressing against her hair. “I promise, I 'll be worthy of it.”
Claire pulled away slightly and looked up into his eyes. “I know.”
His hands shook as they pushed her hair away from her face. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to pull her lips to his and drown in her, offer his life, his soul to her to do with as she would and just follow her around like a slave. Luckily he still had a little pride and an even smaller smattering of dignity and he held back the soppy words and just ran his hand over her cheek luxuriating in the sensation of her.
Claire shifted slightly and then stepped back away from him. “Okay, well this was oddly emotional. I wasn't expecting this when I came to work today.”
“Nor me.”
Not even in his wildest dreams.
“What's say we check on Peter and your protege and then see if we can bunk off early for this movie night?”
He nodded. “Sounds like a solid plan.”
She straightened her shirt and turned on her heel, heading the way Peter had gone with Luke. Sylar grabbed her hand before she could leave though.
She gave him a questioning look and he tried three times before he could get the words out.
“Thank you.”
She gave him a lop-sided smile that reminded him of Peter. “Don't thank me just yet, I'm gonna make you earn it, mister.”
He acknowledged her words and grinned. “Whatever you've got cheerleader, bring it on.”
“Sleepless in Seattle it is.”
Claire laughed as the humor drained from his face.
“Okay, when I said earn it-”
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- All Luke seems to do is destroy, so what does he mean for Sylar and Claire?
Chapter 16 (good lord how long is this fic gonna be?)
Claire couldn't help but be curious. It was a vice that had often got her into trouble, mostly because her dad's secrets tended to be of the lethal kind, but she'd always been a nosy child, eyes wide and curious about the world she was living in and the people that inhabited it.
It was why she was currently trying to overhear the argument that was going on in Sylar's office.
For once, the door between his and Peter's office where she was working, was closed and, for the first time since she'd contemplated jumping off that damned Ferris wheel, Peter and Sylar were actually fighting.
She had heard the voices as soon as she had come back off her lunch break and just assumed that they were having one of their geek debates; seriously she'd had no idea that her beloved uncle was such a nerd. In fact she was seriously considering how anyone who could quote chapter and verse the first season of Battlestar Galactica could possibly be called a hero... or grown-up for that matter.
But this didn't seem like the usual Boomer verses Starbuck argument and she listened closer when she heard Peter actually swear.
“Dammit Sylar, I can't believe we're even talking about this!”
“Give it a shot, Peter. I thought we were all about redemption?”
“He isn't sorry! It isn't redemption if he's just doing this so you won't kill him.”
“Fear is as good a starting place as conscience.”
“You did not just say that.”
“It worked for me.”
“You were different.”
“Not so much.”
There was silence for a moment and Claire crept closer to the door. She heard Sylar sigh loudly and there was a creak of someone sitting on the edge of the desk.
“Look, Pete, I'm not saying he gets a free pass but surely we can do something.”
“Yeah, call Noah and get him transferred to juvie for a couple of months.”
“And when he melts it down?”
“I can say I told you so.”
“Dammit Peter!”
Claire frowned. That didn't sound like Peter, unwilling to give someone a chance. What was going on?
“Look,” Peter said so quietly that Claire had to strain to hear him. “I'm not saying that I don't want to help the kid, Sy, after all that's kinda what we do. I'm all about saving and helping but this guy was a problem even before your road trip. And I'm not having him stay at our apartment. Not so near Emma. And Claire. Do you want that kid near Claire?”
“No.” Sylar sighed again. “But we can't send him away, Pete. He's on the edge of becoming a villain and needs someone there to stop him. He needs, for a better phrase, a role model.”
“And you-”
“God no! Not me. I meant you. Peter. I would suck as a role model. I meant for him to spend time around you.”
Claire found a smile curving her face. She knew how Peter would react to that and she was right.
“Aw man, you can't do that emotional blackmail stuff. It isn't fair.”
“You're the best person I know.” Heartfelt and not just a little amused.
“Dammit! Okay, fine. He can't stay with us but I think I know someone who needs a roomie. One of the kids- Sam. He's staying in town for a couple of months in one of our hideaways and could probably deal with someone his own age.”
“Sam... Dungeon master?”
“Yeah.”
There was another long pause. “So, what you're saying is we put one trigger happy geek with the ability to make fire-breathing monsters out of household items in a room with another trigger happy teenager who likes to melt things.”
“... it's not like we were expecting to get the security deposit back.”
Claire grinned and stepped back away from the door.
So Sylar's mission had been to find some kid who was heading towards the dark side and was trying to reign him in. It was sweet, she could almost see Sylar as a mentor type with a teenage boy telling him to watch his manners and get his feet off the table.
She turned and slammed face first into a tall skinny body.
“Ow!” Claire said and then felt immediately stupid. It hadn't hurt. Nothing hurt. Saying 'ow' was just reflex and made her feel dumb. She stepped back and looked up.
The scowl on the boy's face was directed at her and set her back up immediately. Okay, so she should have been watching where she was going but he shouldn't have been standing right behind her.
“Excuse me,” she said in her most haughty tone.
“No.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “What?”
His chin raised as he nodded to the door. “You were listening in. Typical girl being nosy about stuff that doesn't concern you.”
His eyes were cold, cold and mean and Claire felt a little uneasy at having this boy so close to her.
She stepped back and he followed smirking at her actions.
Claire clenched her jaw. “I have no idea who you are but you need to back off right now.”
His grin was nasty. “I don't think so.”
Claire made to move past him but his hand shot out lightning quick and wrapped around her upper arm, his fingers tightened.
“Let go.”
“Uh no.”
Claire wrenched her arm back and forth but the boy had a surprisingly firm grip and his touch was getting warm. Her eyes dropped to the slight tinge of red surrounding his hand.
“What are you doing?”
The boy's grin widened. “Just a little something I picked up on the road. Like it?”
Claire frowned. “You're a microwave manipulator.”
“What?”
“The ability to convert electromagnetic energy into microwaves and manipulate it into various effects such as heat, light, and radiation. I knew one guy- Ted Sprague who was literally radioactive.” Claire smirked. “I survived him so your little Hotpoint powers are kinda pointless to use on me.”
“Oh yeah?” he grimaced and Claire could smell charred flesh.
“You're ruining my shirt, asshole,” she said through gritted teeth.
“I'll do more than that,” he hissed back, “you think this is painful, you just wait to see what my friend's gonna do to you.”
>>
Peter raked his hand through his hair and nodded. “Okay, so if Noah agrees-”
“Wait!” Sylar held up his hand cutting Peter off mid-sentence. Peter frowned but Sylar was no longer paying him any attention.
There was something wrong. Something really wrong and he couldn't quite put his finger on it.
Maybe it was his empathy or some other random power he'd picked up but his whole body was screaming at him to move.
Before he even realized it he was at the door to his office, wrenching it open.
The tableau on the other side of the door made his insides freeze.
Luke was looming over Claire, his hand burning brightly, searing heat into her arm as he sneered down at her.
Claire's eyes were wide and glassy and her face was screwed up in anger.
Fury rolled through Sylar, igniting pure unadulterated rage in his belly until his veins throbbed and his heart pounded in his ears. An odd ticking was all the warning he had before something took over and his hand raised, telekinetically ripping Luke away from his precious girl.
Luke slammed against the far wall, narrowly missing being impaled by a framed photograph. His hands flailed out, knocking several books off a nearby shelf but Sylar didn't care. Couldn't care.
All he could see was a threat. Someone who had hurt his Claire. Someone who needed teaching a lesson.
His hand raised higher and fingers twitched.
Luke scrabbled at his throat, gasping as his air-flow began constricting. He kicked his legs, slamming them against the wall.
“Uh, Sy. You can stop now.”
No. He was nothing. He had laid his hand on Sylar's property and that was punishable by death. No second chances, no regrets. No mercy. No one hurt his Claire. No one.
Red swirled in Sylar's vision.
“Sy? Sylar?” Something moved in his periphery. “Hey, buddy. Sylar. Stop!”
Sylar growled.
“Sylar, you need to let him down. Dude stop!”
He didn't need to do anything. He was Sylar, there was no one better. No one stronger. Electricity flashed across his fingertips, lighting up the air in blue sparks.
He was going to fry this little brat. Then he was going to take his power. He had to. The Hunger was thrumming in his veins. He had to just take what he wanted, take it and make him scream until-
“Sylar?” The voice was different. Softer, sweeter and familiar.
A gentle touch stayed his hand and he looked down to slender dainty fingers on his skin. Blonde hair stepped into his field of vision and the red haze ebbed away, leaving soft pink cheeks, green eyes and a concerned expression on a beautiful face.
Her face.
Claire.
Sylar shuddered and dropped his hand. Luke fell to the floor with a bang and a wheeze, gasping and coughing as he fought for air.
Sylar stepped back, blinking. His head was a mess. He could still feel the rage but under that, over that something was pushing its way to the front, trying to make itself be heard. He couldn't see, couldn't think.
Claire touched his hand again and he focused on her.
“Claire?”
“Hey,” she gave him a small smile. “Are you okay?”
“Is he okay?” gasped the boy on the floor.
Peter gently kicked him. “If he's not okay then you become crispy fries. His health is kinda your concern right now.”
Luke nodded quickly. “Is he okay?”
Claire rolled at eyes at them and reached up, sliding her hand over his face. “Sylar?”
Sylar swallowed. “Y-yeah. I'm okay.”
“Well, if he's okay.”
Peter kicked him again.
Sylar shook his head and the rest of the confusion left him. He was in his office with Peter trying to plead for him to take care of ... ah.
“Luke.”
“Yes, Luke. Not shish-ka-bob.” The boy clambered to his feet. “What the hell dude?”
“Are you injured?” Peter asked, checking his over quickly.
“He threw me into a fu- fricking wall. Of course I'm injured!”
“If you can bitch you're not too badly hurt,” Claire said crossly.
“Hey, this is all your fault you nosy bi-”
In two strides Sylar grabbed hold of the scruff of his shirt and had him slammed against the wall again, this time it was brute force rather than strength of will that helped.
“You might want to consider very carefully the next few words that come out of your mouth,” he hissed. “I have some... rather strong views about what will happen to you otherwise. Are you going to finish that sentence?”
Luke, perhaps for the first time in his life, chose to do the smart thing and said nothing.
Sylar smirked. “Good choice. This is your first lesson in how not to screw up your life. Stop attacking people and showing off your powers. I'm not impressed, dude. Trying to char boil girls is a way of a- never getting laid and b- ending up in a very bad place. Whether that's jail, a science lab or my bad books is all up to you but from here on out you do not use your power without permission. Got it?”
“Je-”
“No swearing or blaspheming either. My way or the highway, Luke. Do you understand?”
“Yes. I understand.” Luke started to touch the elbow in his throat but changed his mind, his eyes wide at Sylar's proximity.
“Luke Campbell this is Peter Petrelli, the closest thing to a brother I have and this is Claire Bennet his niece. If you hurt her, if you upset her, if you so much as look at her the wrong way again I will make sure that no one finds the little pieces of you that survive. Understand?”
Luke nodded quickly.
“Apologize to her for the language you used and the fact that you were trying to burn a hole through her arm.”
Luke grimaced. “I'm not-”
Sylar added a little pressure to his forearm and gave Luke his very best restrained serial killer look. Psychosis edged with calm.
“I'm not asking.”
“Sorry,” Luke bit out and Sylar stepped back.
“Claire, Peter this is Luke Campbell.”
“Hi!” Peter waved pleasantly, like they had just met at a garden party. “It's nice to meet you but you are not sleeping on my couch on account of you being a little crazy. No offense meant.”
“None taken.” Luke said, rubbing his throat. He glared at Sylar but the psychotic serial killer wasn't looking at him. Instead his gaze was intent on the girl who Luke had just tried to barbeque.
She was pulling at the shirt sleeve with a burn mark in it and pushing it up to reveal...
nothing.
“Hey!” Luke started forward but Sylar's hand twitched and he froze. “You've healed!”
Claire flicked her glance from her unblemished arm to Luke. “Yeah, so?”
“That's cool.” Luke enthused. “So, like, I could have burnt right through and nada?”
“If you'd burnt through her arm,” Sylar said calmly, “I'd be looking for someplace to bury you about now.”
“Right, sure,” Luke bit his lip and then smiled uneasily at Claire. “As powers go, it's not like telekinesis or anything but healing is pretty cool.” Luke gave Claire a once over and gave her what he assumed was a charming smile. “Very pretty.”
Luke's eyes were bright and it was like he had all but forgotten that he had tried to incinerate Claire moments ago. Sylar shook his head. He had never known anyone- other than Hiro- who could bounce back quite so quickly. Luke Campbell had thicker skin than a rhino.
“But seriously, uh sorry about that. I thought you were a threat to my pal, Sylar. He can heal too ya know.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Where do you think he got it?”
Luke wrinkled his nose. “He said he got it from a wicked hot cheerleader with a great ass.”
Peter clapped a hand over his mouth to hide the bark of laughter that erupted as Sylar very quickly turned the color of a tomato.
“I didn't actually say that!” Sylar protested, avoiding Claire's open mouth as she turned to him.
“Sure you did,” Luke continued oblivious, “although I think you said smoking hot cheerleader.”
“Smoking hot?”
Sylar closed his eyes against the definite amusement in Claire's voice. “Please shut up, Luke.”
“Why? Don't you remember? It was when we were talking about fantasies and you said the girl could bend like a pretzel and you wanted to-”
“Shut up!” Sylar growled and Luke took the hint.
Peter was now bent double, gasping and clutching his sides, tears rolling down his cheeks. “Dude, I didn't think humans were supposed to go that color.”
“I hate you all.” Sylar said, rubbing his face. He didn't even dare look at Claire who was alarmingly silent. He gnawed on his lower lip and changed a glance at her but she was facing away from him, her arms folded against her chest.
He wasn't sure what to say at this point. He'd not exactly hidden his feelings for Claire but then again he'd never really come out and said it to her either. Now Luke within five minutes of being here had managed to put his foot in it in the most spectacular of ways and just as Claire had been warming to him as well.
Son of a bitch.
What was she thinking now? Was she calling him a pervert? Was she remembering that at the time of these fantasies he had also been hunting people down and slicing open their heads? Was she thinking that she couldn't believe she was giving him a chance? Was she remembering everything that he had done? Why wouldn't she just turn around and look at him?
Peter finally managed to stop laughing and swiped the tears of amusement from his face. “Okay dude, well. Um, I'm going to take Luke here to visit Sam. Luke, we need to talk.”
“I kinda have to do what he says,” Luke inclined his head towards Sylar. “Is that okay, Sylar?”
“Whatever.” Sylar didn't take his eyes off Claire. “Go with Peter. He'll get you settled and we'll start talking redemption tomorrow.”
Peter clapped Luke on the back. “Until then we're going to have a little talk about something called full disclosure or when to keep your mouth shut.”
Sylar rolled his eyes as his brother led his pseudo protege out of the room.
Silence reigned.
Sylar tucked his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. Then he yanked them out and straightened his tie. After jamming his hands into his pockets for the third time he finally opened his mouth.
“Claire?” He winced at the almost desperate tone of his voice.
“Why would you do that?”
Why? Wasn't it obvious?
“You're hot,” he said honestly, “you're beyond hot. You're beautiful, Claire, you always have been and yes I had fantasies and, perhaps it isn't the most respectful-”
“No,” Claire gave a short laugh and turned to face him, “I didn't mean the fantasy thing. I meant why would you attack Luke?”
“Oh.”
For the first time since he had been that timid little watchmaker drowning in his own guilt, Sylar wished that he could actually die. Or he wished that Samuel Sullivan was still alive and could literally make the ground swallow him.
Instead he chose to just answer the question and wished he could get out of there with his sanity if not his dignity intact.
“I attacked Luke because he was hurting you.”
Claire rolled her eyes. “Invulnerable. And I can't feel pain. He wasn't hurting me. I can't be hurt, remember?”
Sylar took one step and reached for her hands.
“Yes you can,” he said simply, staring into her eyes.
She opened her mouth to deny that, to refute it and call him stupid for even suggesting but something in his expression stopped her and she just shook her head once.
“Physically, you can't be hurt, Claire but you forget. My main power was understanding. I understand everything and I get you. I get you in a way that no one ever will and I know that you can still be hurt. You're heart is bigger and more encompassing than any I've ever seen. You love so much, you forgive and you let people in. And people hurt you. Again and again and again. Noah, for one.”
“My dad-” she started but he held a finger to her lips, a soft smile on his face.
“I'm not going to trash him, Claire, you don't need to defend him to me. But just the fact that you would after everything,. The fact that you forgive him even if you don't trust him says so much, the fact that you saved Doyle, the fact that you even speak to me. You're amazing Claire but you're also vulnerable.”
“I'm really not,” she whispered.
But she was and in ways that he didn't want to bring to her attention. He didn't want to give her those truths, truths that would only hurt her but she needed to know, needed to hear them.
“Your boss tried to rape you and there was nothing you could do.”
Claire gasped at his blunt words and tried to yank her hands away but he held tight.
“Nathan strapped you to a plane and fed you drugs and there was nothing you could do. Doyle made you a puppet. I hurt you, terrorized you and there was nothing you could do. You are tiny, Claire, so tiny. And fragile. And you'll always be like this. You'll always look young and sweet and delicate and fragile and someone somewhere will always want to take advantage. Someone will always want to exploit that vulnerability. Someone will think you're weak and will come after you and there will be nothing you can do about it.”
“Stop it.”
“And you know it too. I know you do, I know you've seen it. I know that you've started to realize that you will forever be seventeen and forever be a victim..”
“Stop it!” Claire let tears well up in her eyes and it was Sylar's heart that ached for her.
“Luke wasn't hurting you physically, but you felt helpless and you felt vulnerable and I couldn't stand by and watch as he hurt you. I never will. Claire. I never will.”
“What?”
“I'm strong, powerful,” he shrugged with a small hint of modesty, “maybe one of the most powerful men on the planet. But more than that, better than that. I'm also immortal, Claire. You may be forever seventeen but you are also forever protected.” He pulled her hands and placed them against his heart so she could feel the beat and the pulse against her palms, feel the tremor right down to her blood. “I vow to you that if it is within my power no one will ever hurt you. For the rest of eternity. I will protect you. I'll always come for you anytime you need me. Always.”
Claire's eyes searched his, looking for something in his face, searching for something in his expression.
“You'll always be there?” her voice was so small but he had no trouble hearing it. He nodded once.
“Why?”
He opened his mouth to tell her. He started to spill his guts, to drop his heart at her feet, but he couldn't do it. The old Claire would have rejected him, spat out at him that he was worthless and pathetic and that there was no way that she would ever, could ever be with him. That Claire he could deal with because she didn't know what he had been through, she didn't know what he was capable of in terms of redemption, and she didn't know who he could be. She rejected the premise of him and that was fine.
This Claire knew.
This Claire had front row seats to his rebirth and she was with him every day watching as he fought to be better. This Claire knew Sylar and if she rejected him it would be real. If she told him that there was no way that they could ever be together it would be with full knowledge of who he was and who he could be. She would be rejecting him.
And that would kill him.
“I-” he closed his mouth and just smiled. “Because I want to. Because there is no one else that will. Because one day we will be the only two people who remember who the Spice Girls were and can quote Firefly and that has got to mean something.”
Claire gave a short sharp laugh and swiped at her face. “I aim to misbehave, Zig-a-zig-ah.”
“One day that will make even less sense,” Sylar shrugged, smiling a little at her renewed strength. “Now I guess I've got to go and get Luke settled with Sam.”
“What are you gonna do with him?” Claire asked. “I mean, he seems a little trigger happy.”
“Tonight he stays with Sam and, if either one survive, then tomorrow we're gonna ask your dad to put him through The System.”
Claire raised one eyebrow. “The System?”
Sylar nodded. “It's a part of The Company that was set up to rehabilitate those with...uh behavioral problems.” His lips twitched. “There's psych evaluations, testing, lessons and training sessions. Kinda like boot camp for the sociopathically gifted.”
“Nut camp.”
He let loose a full grin. “It works.”
She gave him an openly skeptical look. “Did you go through it?”
“I designed it.”
“Nice.”
It was nice. He was ridiculously proud of his idea and it did work. It took Special's with problems and helped them to focus and deal with what they could do. Niall in accounting was one such success story- the poor man couldn't handle telepathy responsibly and had 'liberated' millions of dollars from unsuspecting citizens before he had been convinced to stop- and there were more coming in each day who wanted to be good people but had been seduced or corrupted by their powers. That was something Sylar could identify with and he was so pleased that he could help them, even in a small way. The System was a stroke of genius.
“It takes a month and, after that, if he passes then he can come shadow me.”
Claire smiled up at him. “So you're going to take the walking microwave and make him into a useful member of society? Good luck.”
“I don't need luck,” Sylar preened, “I have good looks, charm and intuitive adaptability.”
“You also have a big head and hero complex.”
He pouted. “Words hurt, Claire.”
“It's a good thing you are a hero then, isn't it?” she reached up and playfully tugged his tie. She bit her lower lip and looked up at him through her lashes almost flirtatiously.
Sylar swallowed hard. “Am I, Claire?”
“I told you you're my hero. My hero, my villain.” She stroked his tie absently, “Although not so much the villain anymore I guess. Sylar the mentor, Sylar the good guy.”
His heart swelled with every word, pride and delight and sheer joy swirling in his stomach.
“Sylar the brother. Sylar the partner. Sylar the... friend?”
“Is that what we are?” His voice was thick. The tiny fingers that stroked his tie were painting delicate patterns against the thin material of his shirt, searing his skin and causing an interesting reaction a little lower.
Claire flattened her hands, her small palms against his rib cage and then they slid apart, circling around to his back and, with one small step Claire was hugging him. She turned her head to the side and laid it against his chest, tucking her head under his chin.
He closed his eyes in acute sweet agony and just reveled in the feel of her, the essence of her against him. Claire in his personal space, touching him. Hugging him.
Claire was hugging him. Voluntarily and with full knowledge of who he was and what he had done.
Her affection was being freely given and if he could have had Hiro's power he would have paused this moment forever. He was so intent on memorizing the sensations that he almost didn't hear her next words.
“I don't know what we are, Sylar. But you're not the bad guy anymore.”
He stilled. “What?”
“I forgive you.”
>
For Sylar nothing could have prepared him for the sensation. He'd been with Hiro when the world had paused and this wasn't it. He'd felt the power of a million suns in his veins and it was nothing to this. He'd traveled through time and space and used Tracey's power to freeze and nothing compared.
He felt like every single molecule had just stopped, every noise on Earth had ceased except for the little beats of Claire's heart against his chest.
It held for one, two, three as his mind screamed denial and his soul pleaded for him to not be dreaming.
The stalemate broke and reality reasserted itself and it all rushed back. He remembered how to breathe and he gasped for precious oxygen even as his arms wrapped themselves around the warm body in front of him and anchored her.
“Say it again.”
“I forgive you.”
He shuddered but it came from extreme relief and not the result of his inbuilt lie detector. He clenched her tight and buried his face in her hair, her scent soothing him as much as her words.
“Claire,” he muttered, “Claire.”
He felt her smile against his chest and she tightened her own grip saying nothing but allowing the embrace to continue.
He had no idea what had prompted this, no idea what madness possessed her or what had changed but this was what he had been longing for for years and to finally have it was nothing short of euphoric.
“I'll earn it,” he vowed, his lips pressing against her hair. “I promise, I 'll be worthy of it.”
Claire pulled away slightly and looked up into his eyes. “I know.”
His hands shook as they pushed her hair away from her face. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to pull her lips to his and drown in her, offer his life, his soul to her to do with as she would and just follow her around like a slave. Luckily he still had a little pride and an even smaller smattering of dignity and he held back the soppy words and just ran his hand over her cheek luxuriating in the sensation of her.
Claire shifted slightly and then stepped back away from him. “Okay, well this was oddly emotional. I wasn't expecting this when I came to work today.”
“Nor me.”
Not even in his wildest dreams.
“What's say we check on Peter and your protege and then see if we can bunk off early for this movie night?”
He nodded. “Sounds like a solid plan.”
She straightened her shirt and turned on her heel, heading the way Peter had gone with Luke. Sylar grabbed her hand before she could leave though.
She gave him a questioning look and he tried three times before he could get the words out.
“Thank you.”
She gave him a lop-sided smile that reminded him of Peter. “Don't thank me just yet, I'm gonna make you earn it, mister.”
He acknowledged her words and grinned. “Whatever you've got cheerleader, bring it on.”
“Sleepless in Seattle it is.”
Claire laughed as the humor drained from his face.
“Okay, when I said earn it-”