Fic: I Am the Highway
Title: I Am the Highway
Author: kathrynthegr8
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing: Sylar/Claire, Luke
Rating: R
Word Count: Around 3500
Warnings: Language, Violence, Sex, Dub-con, Spoilers through season three: Shades of Grey (Pretty much AU though...)
Disclaimer: I own nothing you see here.
A/N: Written for holycitygirl for her (very belated x 100000) birthday. She wanted a Sylar and Claire road trip fic. I also managed to fulfill one of my prompts for my Ridiculously Specific Prompt Table (#8 Write a story based on your favorite lasagna recipe). Prompt table is by cruiscin_lan. Title and cut tags are ganked from "I Am The Highway" by Audioslave. Many thanks and cups of coffee to my magically delicious beta, eeyore9990.
Sylar sighed and slumped in his seat behind the steering wheel. He knew it did not take thirty minutes to buy a couple of sodas and sandwiches from a gas station. Even a gas station as busy as this one was on a Tuesday afternoon. Luke was already starting to outlive his usefulness. If Sylar didn't need the information in the boy's head or to keep his face off of surveillance cameras and out of people's memories, he would have ditched the boy days ago.
He sat up straighter once he saw the kid exit through the glass door, struggling to carry a girl's body slung over his shoulder. It took him several tries to push through the door, a plastic bag dangling from each hand. He finally made his way across the cracked asphalt to the car, a wide grin visible on his face.
Sylar watched with mild interest as Luke shoved the body of a blond girl in the back seat and climbed in the front, face covered in sweat and breathing heavily from the exertion.
"I asked for a Coke, Luke," he ground out as he slammed the car into gear and accelerated out of the parking lot. "If I wanted a dead girl, I can supply my own."
Luke dug around in the bag on his lap and brandished a cold soda at Sylar. "She's not dead! I hit her over the head with a car battery."
"That's blunt force trauma, genius. She's dead." He opened his Coke with one hand and took a sip. "And I suppose no one in there saw this suave move of yours?"
"I don't think so." Luke considered. "Probably not. It was in the back of the store, by the restrooms. I saw her coming out and took a chance. Wait til you see her; she's hot."
"Maybe, if I were a necrophiliac." Sylar rolled his eyes. The kid was starting to become a real liability; even if he wanted the information Luke had, it was getting risky to keep him around. "You'll have to bury her when we stop next." Making the kid dig a ditch and take care of his own mess might teach him a lesson, though Sylar doubted it.
"I told you she's not dead. I could hear her breathing," Luke said between gulps of his own soda.
"Okay, Einstein. She's alive." Sylar glanced at the clock on the dash. "She'll be a vegetable for a couple of hours and then die. You still have to dispose of the body."
The last thing Sylar expected was the sudden attack of a supposed-to-be-dead teen girl from the back seat. She had managed to get her hands on the tire iron left on the floorboards by the car's previous owner. The glancing blow to the back of Luke's head had done little more than piss him off, and when he'd turned and grabbed the girl to subdue her, things had become really interesting.
"Let me go you, bastard!"
He pulled the car over to the side of the road and slammed on the brakes, leaving a trail of rubber and exhaust behind them. What were the odds? It couldn't possibly be her.
"See, I told you she was alive!" Luke crowed as he wrestled with his victim across the seat, failing to disarm or subdue her in the slightest.
Sylar exited the car and took his time walking around to the passenger side, watching the fight through the windshield the whole way. Luke was now dodging more blows from the tire iron and trying to cover his head with his arms for protection. He thought about not opening the door, letting the girl finish what she had started. It would save him some trouble in the long run, but something swayed him to help his hapless apprentice. Maybe it was pity; it certainly wasn't his conscience.
"Luke, I'd like you to meet an acquaintance of mine." He spoke loudly so they'd both hear him as he grabbed the girl by her wrists and hauled her out of the car. "This is Claire Bennet. I can see why you picked her." He held her still and forced her to drop the impromptu weapon. "You should see her in her cheer leader uniform."
"Sylar!" she yelled with anger, her eyes narrowed as she continued to struggle against him.
"Hello, princess." Sylar released her and opened Luke's door. "Get in the back. She's sitting up front."
Luke reluctantly got out of the car and did as he was told, his eyes never leaving Claire as he walked past them.
"You know her?" Luke's voice cracked when he asked the question.
Claire was still glaring at him, not hiding the hatred she felt. "I told them you weren't dead. I knew it."
"Not for your lack of trying." Sylar grinned at her, enjoying a moment of triumph. "Get in."
He didn't wait to see if she'd listen to him. If she wanted to hang out by the side of the road in the middle of nowhere, that was her business. It surprised him when she climbed in and was seated beside him before he'd started the car.
"Take me back to the gas station," she demanded through clenched teeth.
"Say please," he admonished her as he put the car in drive and steered them back on the road.
"So, uh. How do you two know each other?" Luke asked as he leaned forward between them.
"No." Claire crossed her arms across her chest and continued to glare at Sylar, focusing her fury on him and ignoring Luke altogether.
"Then no," Sylar answered flatly.
"Fine. Pull over; I'll walk back." She reached for the door handle.
"No." Sylar locked the doors with a satisfying click.
"How old are you?" Luke was glancing between them. "I mean, you guys didn't go to school together..."
"Let me go, Sylar." There was less anger this time, but it was still a demand.
"You're related!" Luke blurted out triumphantly.
"I don't know what kind of freak show you've got going on here with this kid, but you don't need me."
"I'm not a kid," Luke stated matter-of-factly. "I'm probably older than you."
"Shut up!" They spoke in unison and Sylar looked over at Claire quickly before returning his attention to the road.
She tried reasoning with him. "You know people are going to notice I'm missing soon."
"Actually, I'm counting on that. Pretty much gives me a free pass to do whatever I want. Doesn't it, Claire?" He watched in amusement as the realization of her situation became evident on her face.
"What are you guys talking about?" Luke leaned forward once again, trying to join in the conversation.
"Claire here has very important and high ranking family members that care deeply about her safety. And because she is indestructible, she's the perfect kidnap victim." Sylar drove faster, trying to put as much distance between them and the gas station as possible.
"Indestructible? You mean like you?"
"No, jackass. He's like me, I'm nothing like him." Claire spoke up before turning to stare out the window.
Sylar shook his head. "You keep saying that, but somehow I think you believe it less and less."
They pulled over several hours later at a nicer hotel than was entirely necessary. Sylar had half convinced himself it was because he needed a decent night's sleep on a good mattress. Luke's soft snore as he slept, splayed out across the back seat, had been the only sound in the car for miles. Claire sat silently, never taking her eyes off the road in front of them.
She didn't look at him or say anything after he parked the car, and he half expected her to be gone when he came back from the front desk with a key-card to a suite with two beds and a view of the pool. Claire was sitting right where he had left her; Luke had rolled over in his seat and was now laying on the floor.
He led them inside the building and looked in their reflection while they stood together waiting for the elevator. Sylar had dark circles under his eyes; Claire did too. They looked aged and haggard in the warped mirrored doors. Luke looked even younger than his age, his hair mussed from laying on his side; he rubbed his eyes and yawned while Sylar watched.
"There are only two beds," Luke announced after Sylar unlocked the door.
"Guess you're sleeping on the floor." Claire threw herself down on a bed and buried her face in a pillow.
Luke stared at her for a moment before shrugging and plopping down on the tiny couch in the corner and turning on the TV.
"Keep it down, Romeo." Sylar was so tired he doubted anything short of a marching band performing in their room would wake him. He thought longingly about a hot shower, but the pull of the bed in front of him was too hard to resist. It took him only a few seconds to give in to the desire to lay still for a few hours and let sleep overtake him.
"He really did that to you? Cut your head open and-"
"And poked his fingers in my brain? Yes. Yes he did."
"Were you scared?"
"I was terrified. I couldn't fight him, I couldn't hide; nothing I did stopped him."
"Did it hurt?"
"A little at first and then I didn't feel anything."
"That is so cool."
"No, it isn't. He kills people, people like us, all the time. No one can stop him. You think he won't do the same thing to you?"
"He wouldn't. We're friends. Plus he needs me to find his father."
"And after that? You think he's going to just keep you around because he likes your company?"
"You don't know anything. He saved me from my shitty life back home. He likes me."
"Trust me on this: Sylar is a killer. That's what he does. That's all he is. He does not like you or anyone else."
"I want to be just like him. He'll teach me."
"That's a great plan for the rest of your life."
"Shut. Up."
"Fine, but you don't have to stay with him. I've helped people like you before. You can start over."
"I said shut up."
The conversation ended abruptly, and Sylar lay perfectly still and waited to see if they'd start talking again. After several moments he heard the steady, even breathing of the two other occupants of the room as they fell asleep. Luke was curled uncomfortably on the couch, the blue light of the TV flickering across his sleeping countenance. Claire was barely visible in the bed next to his, the blankets all but covered her from head to toe. He wondered idly about the parts of their heart-to-heart he had missed.
He awoke the next morning to the sound of Luke pounding on the bathroom door.
"Hurry up! I have to pee."
Sylar grabbed Luke by his collar and jerked him back from the door. "Stop that."
"She's been in there an hour!" Luke bounced from foot to foot in obvious discomfort and cupped his crotch.
"There's a pool downstairs; that means there are bathrooms and showers down there. Go. Now. Before you wet your pants." Sylar steered him to the door and shut it behind him. When had his life become a cheesy Friday night sitcom? All they were missing was canned laughter. He heard the taps turn on in the bathroom followed by the sound of the shower. He waited a few minutes before he opened the door, steam billowed out all around him in a moist fragrant cloud.
"Get out, you pervert! I told you I would hurry!"
Sylar lifted the lid on the toilet and relieved himself, when he had finished he swiped the mirror with his palm until he could see his reflection and helped himself to the hotel's complimentary shave kit on the sink. He smiled as he took his time on the task, careful to not nick the skin on his cheeks or cause razor burn by shaving to fast.
"GODDAMMIT!" Claire turned off the water and opened the shower door a fraction of an inch, releasing another cloud of steam in the process. "I'm done, leave so I can dry off!"
He shoved a towel into her waiting hand and returned to shaving. Satisfied with the results he rinsed his face and dried off with the other towel on the rack.
"Are you still in here?"
Tired of listening to Claire's shrill voice so early in the morning he opened the shower door with a wave of his hand, leaned against the sink and waited. When she finally emerged she had the towel securely wrapped across her middle, covering her from the top of her breasts to her knees. Her hair was dripping wet and the ends were curling in the damp heat.
"Sylar, I thought-" She stepped gingerly around where he stood, careful to not brush up against him.
"You thought I was some teen boy, eager to be impressed with your prima-donna antics?"
Claire scowled at him. "Wanting privacy is not-"
"Get over yourself. Really." He turned the shower back on and started stripping out of his clothes, not waiting for her to leave or shut the door. Claire's sudden intake of breath when he pulled of his pants drew his attention and he smirked. "Don't be flattered, I wake up like this every morning." The sound of the door slamming when she left was deeply satisfying.
Claire was dressed and sitting on the bed, squeezing her hair dry with the towel when he got out of the shower. Luke sat on the couch idly flipping through channels without paying any attention to the screen. They both looked up at him expectantly.
"Let's go, children."
They shared a quick breakfast in silence while Sylar looked over maps and drank black coffee at a local diner. Later, he made them wait at the curb while he stole a smaller, faster car. They didn't argue over who got to sit in the front like he expected them to, Luke dutifully climbed into the back without a word and Claire settled in the seat next to him.
A few miles later Claire commandeered the stereo and searched out a top forty station, she bobbed her head to the music and sang softly under her breath.
"She's hot. I'd do her." Luke spoke up from the back seat.
Claire turned around. "Who?"
"Kelly Clarkson." He pointed at the radio and and waggled his eyebrows.
"Sure you would. You'd just have to hit her over the head with something first." Claire laughed.
"Shut up! I know it was a bad idea, okay?"
"What do you think is a good idea?"
"I don't know." Luke rested his head on the top of her seat and stared at her.
"You could just talk to girls, like a normal person."
"Would you have talked to me, you know, if I came up to you?"
"Yes. Maybe." Claire looked away from him. "Depends on what you said."
Sylar snorted and turned the radio off. "She wouldn't have. Claire was one of the popular girls at her high school. Miss homecoming queen."
"I was not homecoming queen." She turned the radio back on and hummed along with the new song. "Don't you miss school or your friends?" she asked suddenly.
"Nope. School sucked," Luke stated simply.
"Your mom?"
"What about her?"
Claire sighed in exasperation before she spoke again. "Do you miss her?"
Luke was silent for so long, Sylar was sure he wouldn't answer. When he finally did speak, his face looked sad, "She made good lasagna."
"Did she use sauce from a jar or homemade?" Claire tapped idly on the window, her eyes not focused on anything, her voice seeming to come from far away.
"Homemade."
"My mom makes good lasagna, too. Only instead of ricotta cheese she uses cottage cheese. Says it's creamier."
"Gross!"
"It's not gross. How do you know?"
"It looks disgusting. I don't eat anything doctors use to describe fat women," Luke shot back and then grinned.
"That's real mature."
They settled into a comfortable silence for several hours, Claire eventually fell asleep with her head against the armrest and Luke rolled down his window and put his feet on the door. The radio station played every song on their play-list and then played them again. Annoyed, but not sure why, Sylar turned the radio back off and listened to the vibration of the tires on the road as the miles ticked by.
The fast food restaurant Sylar picked was deserted when they stopped for dinner and gas hours later. Luke was in the bathroom and Sylar sat across from Claire and watched her pick at her french fries without actually eating them.
"What's wrong, Princess? Missing your mom's cooking again?" he asked as he crumpled up the food wrappers on the tray in front of him.
"No." She looked up at him and blinked. "I don't live at home anymore. It's too dangerous for them."
Sylar leaned back in his chair and studied her for a moment. "Luke won't leave me. You're wasting your time."
"How can you be so sure?" She shook her drink cup, making the ice cubes rattle against each other.
"He thinks I'm a daddy-replacement. And even a pretty girl like you won't change his mind."
"Do you care about him at all?"
"He has information I need." Sylar watched her reaction and wasn't disappointed. "You want me to let him go?"
"Yes." She took the top off her drink and started crunching on the ice.
"Fine."
Claire choked for a moment before she recovered. "Are you serious?"
"Two conditions. One: you get him to tell you my father's address. Two: you stay with me."
"What? Why-"
"You said it yourself, Claire. I'm a killer. It's what I do. You, on the other hand, can't die."
"I don't understand what-" She shook her head and frowned at him.
"You're so eager to be a martyr, so I'm going to let you. You'll be my perfect little bullet-proof shield." He smiled at her, almost too eager to hear her answer before he continued. "And I'm sure there are other ways you can make yourself... useful." Sylar let his voice trail off and he narrowed his eyes at her. His thoughts flashed back to the little scene in the bathroom that morning and the overwhelming desire he'd had to bend her over the sink and make her watch in the mirror while he took her from behind. The idea of her being a willing participant was too good an opportunity to pass up.
"Do you mean.." Claire looked down at the table. "What I think you mean?"
"Tick-tock, Claire. The expiration date on this deal ends when Luke comes out of the bathroom." Sylar got up from the table and took his tray to the large garbage can in the corner.
He heard her heart beat speed up before she answered. "Okay. Yes. I'll do it."
Sylar closed his eyes and knew she wasn't lying. She was his now. And all he had to do was ask. He stalked back to their table and stood over her for a few seconds, savoring his victory.
"Go get my father's address from him. Now."
Claire pushed her chair back with purpose and walked towards the bathrooms. Sylar watched her go and went to wait in the car.
Sylar hummed along with the radio and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel while he waited for Claire to come out of the restaurant. It didn't take long before she emerged, her shoulders back and a defiant scowl on her face.
"Let's go." She slammed the car door and handed him a scrap of paper with an address and phone number scrawled across it.
He let his fingers linger on hers when he took it from her and memorized the information before balling it up and throwing it over his shoulder. The car was going ninety before they left the parking lot.
As eager as he was to finally meet his real father face-to-face, Sylar chose to use the deserted country back roads. When he felt they had gone far enough, put enough space between them and Luke, he pulled over. Claire didn't question him when he told her to get out of the car. She said nothing when he took off her clothes and lay her back on the hood of the car. She didn't complain about the pinging heat from the car's engine that burned her skin, or how exposed she was in broad daylight.
Sylar fucked her hard and fast while Claire turned her head and closed her eyes.
That night in a cheap motel he fucked her again, but took his time, making sure that she cried out and orgasmed as many times as he did. It wasn't love, not by a long shot. But they had an eternity to learn each other's secrets and lies.
And tomorrow he was taking her to meet his father.
Author: kathrynthegr8
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing: Sylar/Claire, Luke
Rating: R
Word Count: Around 3500
Warnings: Language, Violence, Sex, Dub-con, Spoilers through season three: Shades of Grey (Pretty much AU though...)
Disclaimer: I own nothing you see here.
A/N: Written for holycitygirl for her (very belated x 100000) birthday. She wanted a Sylar and Claire road trip fic. I also managed to fulfill one of my prompts for my Ridiculously Specific Prompt Table (#8 Write a story based on your favorite lasagna recipe). Prompt table is by cruiscin_lan. Title and cut tags are ganked from "I Am The Highway" by Audioslave. Many thanks and cups of coffee to my magically delicious beta, eeyore9990.
Sylar sighed and slumped in his seat behind the steering wheel. He knew it did not take thirty minutes to buy a couple of sodas and sandwiches from a gas station. Even a gas station as busy as this one was on a Tuesday afternoon. Luke was already starting to outlive his usefulness. If Sylar didn't need the information in the boy's head or to keep his face off of surveillance cameras and out of people's memories, he would have ditched the boy days ago.
He sat up straighter once he saw the kid exit through the glass door, struggling to carry a girl's body slung over his shoulder. It took him several tries to push through the door, a plastic bag dangling from each hand. He finally made his way across the cracked asphalt to the car, a wide grin visible on his face.
Sylar watched with mild interest as Luke shoved the body of a blond girl in the back seat and climbed in the front, face covered in sweat and breathing heavily from the exertion.
"I asked for a Coke, Luke," he ground out as he slammed the car into gear and accelerated out of the parking lot. "If I wanted a dead girl, I can supply my own."
Luke dug around in the bag on his lap and brandished a cold soda at Sylar. "She's not dead! I hit her over the head with a car battery."
"That's blunt force trauma, genius. She's dead." He opened his Coke with one hand and took a sip. "And I suppose no one in there saw this suave move of yours?"
"I don't think so." Luke considered. "Probably not. It was in the back of the store, by the restrooms. I saw her coming out and took a chance. Wait til you see her; she's hot."
"Maybe, if I were a necrophiliac." Sylar rolled his eyes. The kid was starting to become a real liability; even if he wanted the information Luke had, it was getting risky to keep him around. "You'll have to bury her when we stop next." Making the kid dig a ditch and take care of his own mess might teach him a lesson, though Sylar doubted it.
"I told you she's not dead. I could hear her breathing," Luke said between gulps of his own soda.
"Okay, Einstein. She's alive." Sylar glanced at the clock on the dash. "She'll be a vegetable for a couple of hours and then die. You still have to dispose of the body."
The last thing Sylar expected was the sudden attack of a supposed-to-be-dead teen girl from the back seat. She had managed to get her hands on the tire iron left on the floorboards by the car's previous owner. The glancing blow to the back of Luke's head had done little more than piss him off, and when he'd turned and grabbed the girl to subdue her, things had become really interesting.
"Let me go you, bastard!"
He pulled the car over to the side of the road and slammed on the brakes, leaving a trail of rubber and exhaust behind them. What were the odds? It couldn't possibly be her.
"See, I told you she was alive!" Luke crowed as he wrestled with his victim across the seat, failing to disarm or subdue her in the slightest.
Sylar exited the car and took his time walking around to the passenger side, watching the fight through the windshield the whole way. Luke was now dodging more blows from the tire iron and trying to cover his head with his arms for protection. He thought about not opening the door, letting the girl finish what she had started. It would save him some trouble in the long run, but something swayed him to help his hapless apprentice. Maybe it was pity; it certainly wasn't his conscience.
"Luke, I'd like you to meet an acquaintance of mine." He spoke loudly so they'd both hear him as he grabbed the girl by her wrists and hauled her out of the car. "This is Claire Bennet. I can see why you picked her." He held her still and forced her to drop the impromptu weapon. "You should see her in her cheer leader uniform."
"Sylar!" she yelled with anger, her eyes narrowed as she continued to struggle against him.
"Hello, princess." Sylar released her and opened Luke's door. "Get in the back. She's sitting up front."
Luke reluctantly got out of the car and did as he was told, his eyes never leaving Claire as he walked past them.
"You know her?" Luke's voice cracked when he asked the question.
Claire was still glaring at him, not hiding the hatred she felt. "I told them you weren't dead. I knew it."
"Not for your lack of trying." Sylar grinned at her, enjoying a moment of triumph. "Get in."
He didn't wait to see if she'd listen to him. If she wanted to hang out by the side of the road in the middle of nowhere, that was her business. It surprised him when she climbed in and was seated beside him before he'd started the car.
"Take me back to the gas station," she demanded through clenched teeth.
"Say please," he admonished her as he put the car in drive and steered them back on the road.
"So, uh. How do you two know each other?" Luke asked as he leaned forward between them.
"No." Claire crossed her arms across her chest and continued to glare at Sylar, focusing her fury on him and ignoring Luke altogether.
"Then no," Sylar answered flatly.
"Fine. Pull over; I'll walk back." She reached for the door handle.
"No." Sylar locked the doors with a satisfying click.
"How old are you?" Luke was glancing between them. "I mean, you guys didn't go to school together..."
"Let me go, Sylar." There was less anger this time, but it was still a demand.
"You're related!" Luke blurted out triumphantly.
"I don't know what kind of freak show you've got going on here with this kid, but you don't need me."
"I'm not a kid," Luke stated matter-of-factly. "I'm probably older than you."
"Shut up!" They spoke in unison and Sylar looked over at Claire quickly before returning his attention to the road.
She tried reasoning with him. "You know people are going to notice I'm missing soon."
"Actually, I'm counting on that. Pretty much gives me a free pass to do whatever I want. Doesn't it, Claire?" He watched in amusement as the realization of her situation became evident on her face.
"What are you guys talking about?" Luke leaned forward once again, trying to join in the conversation.
"Claire here has very important and high ranking family members that care deeply about her safety. And because she is indestructible, she's the perfect kidnap victim." Sylar drove faster, trying to put as much distance between them and the gas station as possible.
"Indestructible? You mean like you?"
"No, jackass. He's like me, I'm nothing like him." Claire spoke up before turning to stare out the window.
Sylar shook his head. "You keep saying that, but somehow I think you believe it less and less."
They pulled over several hours later at a nicer hotel than was entirely necessary. Sylar had half convinced himself it was because he needed a decent night's sleep on a good mattress. Luke's soft snore as he slept, splayed out across the back seat, had been the only sound in the car for miles. Claire sat silently, never taking her eyes off the road in front of them.
She didn't look at him or say anything after he parked the car, and he half expected her to be gone when he came back from the front desk with a key-card to a suite with two beds and a view of the pool. Claire was sitting right where he had left her; Luke had rolled over in his seat and was now laying on the floor.
He led them inside the building and looked in their reflection while they stood together waiting for the elevator. Sylar had dark circles under his eyes; Claire did too. They looked aged and haggard in the warped mirrored doors. Luke looked even younger than his age, his hair mussed from laying on his side; he rubbed his eyes and yawned while Sylar watched.
"There are only two beds," Luke announced after Sylar unlocked the door.
"Guess you're sleeping on the floor." Claire threw herself down on a bed and buried her face in a pillow.
Luke stared at her for a moment before shrugging and plopping down on the tiny couch in the corner and turning on the TV.
"Keep it down, Romeo." Sylar was so tired he doubted anything short of a marching band performing in their room would wake him. He thought longingly about a hot shower, but the pull of the bed in front of him was too hard to resist. It took him only a few seconds to give in to the desire to lay still for a few hours and let sleep overtake him.
"He really did that to you? Cut your head open and-"
"And poked his fingers in my brain? Yes. Yes he did."
"Were you scared?"
"I was terrified. I couldn't fight him, I couldn't hide; nothing I did stopped him."
"Did it hurt?"
"A little at first and then I didn't feel anything."
"That is so cool."
"No, it isn't. He kills people, people like us, all the time. No one can stop him. You think he won't do the same thing to you?"
"He wouldn't. We're friends. Plus he needs me to find his father."
"And after that? You think he's going to just keep you around because he likes your company?"
"You don't know anything. He saved me from my shitty life back home. He likes me."
"Trust me on this: Sylar is a killer. That's what he does. That's all he is. He does not like you or anyone else."
"I want to be just like him. He'll teach me."
"That's a great plan for the rest of your life."
"Shut. Up."
"Fine, but you don't have to stay with him. I've helped people like you before. You can start over."
"I said shut up."
The conversation ended abruptly, and Sylar lay perfectly still and waited to see if they'd start talking again. After several moments he heard the steady, even breathing of the two other occupants of the room as they fell asleep. Luke was curled uncomfortably on the couch, the blue light of the TV flickering across his sleeping countenance. Claire was barely visible in the bed next to his, the blankets all but covered her from head to toe. He wondered idly about the parts of their heart-to-heart he had missed.
He awoke the next morning to the sound of Luke pounding on the bathroom door.
"Hurry up! I have to pee."
Sylar grabbed Luke by his collar and jerked him back from the door. "Stop that."
"She's been in there an hour!" Luke bounced from foot to foot in obvious discomfort and cupped his crotch.
"There's a pool downstairs; that means there are bathrooms and showers down there. Go. Now. Before you wet your pants." Sylar steered him to the door and shut it behind him. When had his life become a cheesy Friday night sitcom? All they were missing was canned laughter. He heard the taps turn on in the bathroom followed by the sound of the shower. He waited a few minutes before he opened the door, steam billowed out all around him in a moist fragrant cloud.
"Get out, you pervert! I told you I would hurry!"
Sylar lifted the lid on the toilet and relieved himself, when he had finished he swiped the mirror with his palm until he could see his reflection and helped himself to the hotel's complimentary shave kit on the sink. He smiled as he took his time on the task, careful to not nick the skin on his cheeks or cause razor burn by shaving to fast.
"GODDAMMIT!" Claire turned off the water and opened the shower door a fraction of an inch, releasing another cloud of steam in the process. "I'm done, leave so I can dry off!"
He shoved a towel into her waiting hand and returned to shaving. Satisfied with the results he rinsed his face and dried off with the other towel on the rack.
"Are you still in here?"
Tired of listening to Claire's shrill voice so early in the morning he opened the shower door with a wave of his hand, leaned against the sink and waited. When she finally emerged she had the towel securely wrapped across her middle, covering her from the top of her breasts to her knees. Her hair was dripping wet and the ends were curling in the damp heat.
"Sylar, I thought-" She stepped gingerly around where he stood, careful to not brush up against him.
"You thought I was some teen boy, eager to be impressed with your prima-donna antics?"
Claire scowled at him. "Wanting privacy is not-"
"Get over yourself. Really." He turned the shower back on and started stripping out of his clothes, not waiting for her to leave or shut the door. Claire's sudden intake of breath when he pulled of his pants drew his attention and he smirked. "Don't be flattered, I wake up like this every morning." The sound of the door slamming when she left was deeply satisfying.
Claire was dressed and sitting on the bed, squeezing her hair dry with the towel when he got out of the shower. Luke sat on the couch idly flipping through channels without paying any attention to the screen. They both looked up at him expectantly.
"Let's go, children."
They shared a quick breakfast in silence while Sylar looked over maps and drank black coffee at a local diner. Later, he made them wait at the curb while he stole a smaller, faster car. They didn't argue over who got to sit in the front like he expected them to, Luke dutifully climbed into the back without a word and Claire settled in the seat next to him.
A few miles later Claire commandeered the stereo and searched out a top forty station, she bobbed her head to the music and sang softly under her breath.
"She's hot. I'd do her." Luke spoke up from the back seat.
Claire turned around. "Who?"
"Kelly Clarkson." He pointed at the radio and and waggled his eyebrows.
"Sure you would. You'd just have to hit her over the head with something first." Claire laughed.
"Shut up! I know it was a bad idea, okay?"
"What do you think is a good idea?"
"I don't know." Luke rested his head on the top of her seat and stared at her.
"You could just talk to girls, like a normal person."
"Would you have talked to me, you know, if I came up to you?"
"Yes. Maybe." Claire looked away from him. "Depends on what you said."
Sylar snorted and turned the radio off. "She wouldn't have. Claire was one of the popular girls at her high school. Miss homecoming queen."
"I was not homecoming queen." She turned the radio back on and hummed along with the new song. "Don't you miss school or your friends?" she asked suddenly.
"Nope. School sucked," Luke stated simply.
"Your mom?"
"What about her?"
Claire sighed in exasperation before she spoke again. "Do you miss her?"
Luke was silent for so long, Sylar was sure he wouldn't answer. When he finally did speak, his face looked sad, "She made good lasagna."
"Did she use sauce from a jar or homemade?" Claire tapped idly on the window, her eyes not focused on anything, her voice seeming to come from far away.
"Homemade."
"My mom makes good lasagna, too. Only instead of ricotta cheese she uses cottage cheese. Says it's creamier."
"Gross!"
"It's not gross. How do you know?"
"It looks disgusting. I don't eat anything doctors use to describe fat women," Luke shot back and then grinned.
"That's real mature."
They settled into a comfortable silence for several hours, Claire eventually fell asleep with her head against the armrest and Luke rolled down his window and put his feet on the door. The radio station played every song on their play-list and then played them again. Annoyed, but not sure why, Sylar turned the radio back off and listened to the vibration of the tires on the road as the miles ticked by.
The fast food restaurant Sylar picked was deserted when they stopped for dinner and gas hours later. Luke was in the bathroom and Sylar sat across from Claire and watched her pick at her french fries without actually eating them.
"What's wrong, Princess? Missing your mom's cooking again?" he asked as he crumpled up the food wrappers on the tray in front of him.
"No." She looked up at him and blinked. "I don't live at home anymore. It's too dangerous for them."
Sylar leaned back in his chair and studied her for a moment. "Luke won't leave me. You're wasting your time."
"How can you be so sure?" She shook her drink cup, making the ice cubes rattle against each other.
"He thinks I'm a daddy-replacement. And even a pretty girl like you won't change his mind."
"Do you care about him at all?"
"He has information I need." Sylar watched her reaction and wasn't disappointed. "You want me to let him go?"
"Yes." She took the top off her drink and started crunching on the ice.
"Fine."
Claire choked for a moment before she recovered. "Are you serious?"
"Two conditions. One: you get him to tell you my father's address. Two: you stay with me."
"What? Why-"
"You said it yourself, Claire. I'm a killer. It's what I do. You, on the other hand, can't die."
"I don't understand what-" She shook her head and frowned at him.
"You're so eager to be a martyr, so I'm going to let you. You'll be my perfect little bullet-proof shield." He smiled at her, almost too eager to hear her answer before he continued. "And I'm sure there are other ways you can make yourself... useful." Sylar let his voice trail off and he narrowed his eyes at her. His thoughts flashed back to the little scene in the bathroom that morning and the overwhelming desire he'd had to bend her over the sink and make her watch in the mirror while he took her from behind. The idea of her being a willing participant was too good an opportunity to pass up.
"Do you mean.." Claire looked down at the table. "What I think you mean?"
"Tick-tock, Claire. The expiration date on this deal ends when Luke comes out of the bathroom." Sylar got up from the table and took his tray to the large garbage can in the corner.
He heard her heart beat speed up before she answered. "Okay. Yes. I'll do it."
Sylar closed his eyes and knew she wasn't lying. She was his now. And all he had to do was ask. He stalked back to their table and stood over her for a few seconds, savoring his victory.
"Go get my father's address from him. Now."
Claire pushed her chair back with purpose and walked towards the bathrooms. Sylar watched her go and went to wait in the car.
Sylar hummed along with the radio and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel while he waited for Claire to come out of the restaurant. It didn't take long before she emerged, her shoulders back and a defiant scowl on her face.
"Let's go." She slammed the car door and handed him a scrap of paper with an address and phone number scrawled across it.
He let his fingers linger on hers when he took it from her and memorized the information before balling it up and throwing it over his shoulder. The car was going ninety before they left the parking lot.
As eager as he was to finally meet his real father face-to-face, Sylar chose to use the deserted country back roads. When he felt they had gone far enough, put enough space between them and Luke, he pulled over. Claire didn't question him when he told her to get out of the car. She said nothing when he took off her clothes and lay her back on the hood of the car. She didn't complain about the pinging heat from the car's engine that burned her skin, or how exposed she was in broad daylight.
Sylar fucked her hard and fast while Claire turned her head and closed her eyes.
That night in a cheap motel he fucked her again, but took his time, making sure that she cried out and orgasmed as many times as he did. It wasn't love, not by a long shot. But they had an eternity to learn each other's secrets and lies.
And tomorrow he was taking her to meet his father.