(no subject)
Title: Define Dangerous
Characters: Sylar, Claire.
Spoilers: Up to Season 2.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2004
Chapter: 17/?
Previously: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16
Summary: While escaping the Company, Sylar meets up with someone from his past. Together, they must piece together some semblance of normality after years of captivity. Future AU.
This was the place; the only warehouse on the block which Molly directed her towards in her quest to find Sylar. Claire circled the building a few times, looking for a way inside. The main door was locked tight but there was a window on the side, just big enough for her to squeeze through. She budged it open, silent and slow, listening for any sounds coming from inside.
It was quiet, which gave her pause.
It was also rather dark inside, so she was unable to see what awaited her.
Perhaps she was too late and Sylar was already-- she shook her head, not wanting to even think of that possibility. Still, the look on Molly's face when the teenager warned that Sylar was in trouble haunted her and drove Claire into action.
She brushed a piece of blond hair behind her ear and lifted the window the rest of the way, holding it up with a stick. It was big enough for her to fit through, though the meager diet that the company kept her on did help with the tight squeeze.
Sliding through the window feet first, Claire felt for the ground. She didn't realize that the drop was a lot further than she thought until she dropped a good six feet. Claire smashed through several cardboard boxes before falling on her ass.
Her ankle made a horrible crunch, a familiar sound that followed whenever she broke it. Claire sat on the cement floor and guided it back into place with her hands, without being able to see if she was doing it correctly in the dim light of the warehouse. She felt the bones knit back together, replacing the broken pieces with newer, stronger cells. She wiggled her foot and it responded exactly as it should.
When Claire was better, she stood up and glanced around in the darkened room, hoping no one heard her. She really did not want to have a fight on her hands, another tussle with the company or someone almost as powerful. When no one came running up to her with weapons drawn, Claire muttered, “I hope you remember to at least thank me when I'm done rescuing you.”
When she was certain no one was around and no one was coming after her, Claire stepped over the cardboard boxes and wooden crates, careful not to trip and impale herself on anything sharp or pointy.
Claire felt along the wall and eventually reached what felt like a box with a series of different lightswitches. It took a moment of careful deliberation before she decided to switch them all on but she was starting to believe the place was empty anyway.
The lights flicked on. With the warehouses' old wooden beams, cement floor and boxes that littered the empty interior it wasn't anything special. She took a step, studying the place and then she saw him. Lying face up, next to the table in the middle of the floor, Sylar wasn't moving at all. He looked dead. She held her breath, rushing to cross the distance between them. “Oh, God, no. Please be okay.. please be okay..”
Claire fell to her knees beside him and reached for his wrist, checking for a pulse. It was there, but faint and every other beat seemed to be slightly off. “Sylar!” She grabbed hold of his shoulders, attempting to shake him into consciousness. He was limp in her hands. “Come on, you have to wake up. We have to get out of here. Please.”
Claire stopped and took a calming breath but starring down at him, lifeless like this, was causing her to tremble uncontrollably. Seeing him vulnerable and helpless scared her more than anything they'd been through so far. She really didn't like this turn of the tables. She took hold of his hand, it was warm and that relaxed her somewhat. It meant he was still in there somewhere, behind those closed eyes and thready pulse.
When Claire was cheerleading at Union Wells High School, the team's coach made all the girls take first aid lessons in case one of their teammates ever got injured. Even with the amount of cramming she'd done to pass those lessons, she couldn't remember what she was supposed to do first. That was years ago though, back when she was just a kid living in a small town in Texas and didn't actually believe she might ever be someone's last hope.
“Okay, so I checked your breathing. And your pulse. Calling an ambulance is out of the question, since I don't know what's on your record. It can't be good, right? You're probably wanted for murder in at least twelve states, two countries, something like that, huh?” She was babbling and on the verge of crying, but Claire couldn't stop.
She ran a hand through his hair; it was short, kept that way for years by the company. His eyebrows were bushy through, forever in need of a trim. She caught herself starring and turned away.
“Fourteen states.” Sylar corrected her groggily as he squeezed her hand lightly. Claire jumped, startled by the sudden movement. She blinked away tears. “But they haven't built a prison that can hold me yet.”
“Oh my god, you're alive! I thought--”
“That what? I was dead? Come on, Claire, you know me better than that. Nothing can stop me.” Sylar cocked his head at her, bringing his eyebrows together to show the level of ridiculousness he applied to that comment. Claire could tell from the weariness in his eyes though, that much of that was just posturing. He wanted to play the big tough supervillian, capable of stopping speeding bullets and knocking people senseless with a twitch of his finger.
She nodded, still worried. “You were unconscious.”
“I was drugged.” He explained. “I had to kill the guy who decided it would be a fun idea to capture me, though, which I'm sure offends you in some way.”
Although Sylar was a good liar, Claire was beginning to learn when it was just bravado. “And you got knocked out after beating up this guy, how? Men are so typical, you know. Always have to be top dog, no matter how much the facts state otherwise.”
She rose to her feet and offered him a hand. Sylar brushed her away, pulling himself into a standing position by his own power. His stance was unsteady and Claire was sure he was going to fall over again, which would serve him well. Returning her banter while regaining his balance, he replied, “You're just in denial about me having to kill again. Poor, innocent Claire.”
“Yep. You keep telling yourself that.” Right when she was sure he was going to topple over, Claire reached her arm around his waist. “What the hell did they give you anyway? I let you go around, traipsing all through the city and when I finally meet up with you again, you can't even walk straight.”
Sylar untangled himself from her arms and moved away. Sitting on the edge of the table, he brought a hand to his head, dizziness clear in his face. Seriousness entered the room, leaving no room for their teasing repartee. “You shouldn't be here. Claire, you need to get yourself someplace safe. Mohinder can give you Peter's address. He'll take care of you.”
“What? Screw that!” Claire scoffed at this suggestion. “I'm not leaving you, Sylar. You're barely able to move. And who knows if and when whoever did this to you is going to come back.”
“That's the problem. I can't--” He spoke quietly, rubbing his fingers in tiny circles at his temples. Claire could see him fighting to tell her something, opening his mouth and then shutting it with a sigh as words failed him. Finally losing his temper, Sylar yelled at her like she was nothing more than an insolent child. “I'm tired of being bothered by you, okay? I'm tired of protecting you like I'm supposed to be some goddamn hero. Give it up.” He stalked towards her, grabbing her shoulders. “We both know what side I'm play for.”
She flinched away involuntarily; surprised to see this side of him coming out, after everything they'd been through together. His nails dug into her arms, gripping them tightly. “Stop it. You're hurting me.”
“That's what I do, Claire. I hurt people.” He grabbed her chin with his hand, forcing her to look up at him. “I break them and I cut them, I suck out their brains and torture them until they bleed to death. And you know something? I like it. I enjoy it. It's who I am.”
Claire threw up her arm, breaking his hold on her and backed away. Could she have been wrong about coming here and saving him? No, she'd seen a change in him these past few days, Claire was sure about that. It couldn't all be wiped away in one night. He wasn't morally black, few people ever were these days, most humans were just morally gray, just like her father used to say.
He wouldn't relent in his plan. Sylar took another step in her direction and began to describe things she always avoided talking about with him. “There's nothing quite like their screaming, how it fills your ears..” he smiled and closed his eyes, as if remembering it all. He faltered as another wave of dizziness washed through him, but then continued, “It's beautiful, Claire. It's--”
Claire didn't know what to do, so she did the first thing that came to mind. She smacked him across the face with all of her strength. It stunned the both of them.
She covered her wide mouth with her hand, before gathering herself enough to reply. “Stop it! Just stop it! I don't know what happened to you while I was gone, but I did not come all this way so that you could speak like this to me.” She shivered and the glare in his eyes seemed to shift slightly. She wanted to cry and run, but she held back. She starred through watery eyes, matching his look of defiance. “Now you're not a good person, obviously not, but I need you and you're going to help me. If you need me to further clarify this situation for you, I will.”
Claire held up her hand, daring him to give her another excuse to smack him again. She prayed Sylar wouldn't be able to tell how much she was shaking.
He was still rubbing the side of his face, where she'd hit him when he laughed at her show of false power. “Please, I'd kill you before you could do anything.” When she failed to react to his threat, Sylar shook his head, mocking the stupidity he thought he saw in her. “Fine. Just don't blame me when you get hurt. I gave you a chance and, trust me, that was your last one. It's not my fault you don't know what's good for you.”
Sylar started getting woozy, the stress of the fight getting to him. Claire wrapped an arm around his waist before he could fall over, muttering all the while. “Idiot.”
“Masochist.” He returned the jab but let her help him anyway.
No more words were spoken between them. He didn't need to say anything; his words rang in Claire's ears. Nor could she forget the way his eyes danced when he described the pleasure in taking a life.
Still, she couldn't bring herself to leave him here. There was a light in his eyes, the slightest hint that he could be a better man. It was enough for her to believe in for now.
Claire helped him around various boxes and shipping crates until they found the main exit out of the warehouse. Her pace slowed by Sylar's stumbling gait and his own reluctance to follow her. They both knew he would though. They were stuck with each other for the time being.
..to be continued..
Characters: Sylar, Claire.
Spoilers: Up to Season 2.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2004
Chapter: 17/?
Previously: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16
Summary: While escaping the Company, Sylar meets up with someone from his past. Together, they must piece together some semblance of normality after years of captivity. Future AU.
This was the place; the only warehouse on the block which Molly directed her towards in her quest to find Sylar. Claire circled the building a few times, looking for a way inside. The main door was locked tight but there was a window on the side, just big enough for her to squeeze through. She budged it open, silent and slow, listening for any sounds coming from inside.
It was quiet, which gave her pause.
It was also rather dark inside, so she was unable to see what awaited her.
Perhaps she was too late and Sylar was already-- she shook her head, not wanting to even think of that possibility. Still, the look on Molly's face when the teenager warned that Sylar was in trouble haunted her and drove Claire into action.
She brushed a piece of blond hair behind her ear and lifted the window the rest of the way, holding it up with a stick. It was big enough for her to fit through, though the meager diet that the company kept her on did help with the tight squeeze.
Sliding through the window feet first, Claire felt for the ground. She didn't realize that the drop was a lot further than she thought until she dropped a good six feet. Claire smashed through several cardboard boxes before falling on her ass.
Her ankle made a horrible crunch, a familiar sound that followed whenever she broke it. Claire sat on the cement floor and guided it back into place with her hands, without being able to see if she was doing it correctly in the dim light of the warehouse. She felt the bones knit back together, replacing the broken pieces with newer, stronger cells. She wiggled her foot and it responded exactly as it should.
When Claire was better, she stood up and glanced around in the darkened room, hoping no one heard her. She really did not want to have a fight on her hands, another tussle with the company or someone almost as powerful. When no one came running up to her with weapons drawn, Claire muttered, “I hope you remember to at least thank me when I'm done rescuing you.”
When she was certain no one was around and no one was coming after her, Claire stepped over the cardboard boxes and wooden crates, careful not to trip and impale herself on anything sharp or pointy.
Claire felt along the wall and eventually reached what felt like a box with a series of different lightswitches. It took a moment of careful deliberation before she decided to switch them all on but she was starting to believe the place was empty anyway.
The lights flicked on. With the warehouses' old wooden beams, cement floor and boxes that littered the empty interior it wasn't anything special. She took a step, studying the place and then she saw him. Lying face up, next to the table in the middle of the floor, Sylar wasn't moving at all. He looked dead. She held her breath, rushing to cross the distance between them. “Oh, God, no. Please be okay.. please be okay..”
Claire fell to her knees beside him and reached for his wrist, checking for a pulse. It was there, but faint and every other beat seemed to be slightly off. “Sylar!” She grabbed hold of his shoulders, attempting to shake him into consciousness. He was limp in her hands. “Come on, you have to wake up. We have to get out of here. Please.”
Claire stopped and took a calming breath but starring down at him, lifeless like this, was causing her to tremble uncontrollably. Seeing him vulnerable and helpless scared her more than anything they'd been through so far. She really didn't like this turn of the tables. She took hold of his hand, it was warm and that relaxed her somewhat. It meant he was still in there somewhere, behind those closed eyes and thready pulse.
When Claire was cheerleading at Union Wells High School, the team's coach made all the girls take first aid lessons in case one of their teammates ever got injured. Even with the amount of cramming she'd done to pass those lessons, she couldn't remember what she was supposed to do first. That was years ago though, back when she was just a kid living in a small town in Texas and didn't actually believe she might ever be someone's last hope.
“Okay, so I checked your breathing. And your pulse. Calling an ambulance is out of the question, since I don't know what's on your record. It can't be good, right? You're probably wanted for murder in at least twelve states, two countries, something like that, huh?” She was babbling and on the verge of crying, but Claire couldn't stop.
She ran a hand through his hair; it was short, kept that way for years by the company. His eyebrows were bushy through, forever in need of a trim. She caught herself starring and turned away.
“Fourteen states.” Sylar corrected her groggily as he squeezed her hand lightly. Claire jumped, startled by the sudden movement. She blinked away tears. “But they haven't built a prison that can hold me yet.”
“Oh my god, you're alive! I thought--”
“That what? I was dead? Come on, Claire, you know me better than that. Nothing can stop me.” Sylar cocked his head at her, bringing his eyebrows together to show the level of ridiculousness he applied to that comment. Claire could tell from the weariness in his eyes though, that much of that was just posturing. He wanted to play the big tough supervillian, capable of stopping speeding bullets and knocking people senseless with a twitch of his finger.
She nodded, still worried. “You were unconscious.”
“I was drugged.” He explained. “I had to kill the guy who decided it would be a fun idea to capture me, though, which I'm sure offends you in some way.”
Although Sylar was a good liar, Claire was beginning to learn when it was just bravado. “And you got knocked out after beating up this guy, how? Men are so typical, you know. Always have to be top dog, no matter how much the facts state otherwise.”
She rose to her feet and offered him a hand. Sylar brushed her away, pulling himself into a standing position by his own power. His stance was unsteady and Claire was sure he was going to fall over again, which would serve him well. Returning her banter while regaining his balance, he replied, “You're just in denial about me having to kill again. Poor, innocent Claire.”
“Yep. You keep telling yourself that.” Right when she was sure he was going to topple over, Claire reached her arm around his waist. “What the hell did they give you anyway? I let you go around, traipsing all through the city and when I finally meet up with you again, you can't even walk straight.”
Sylar untangled himself from her arms and moved away. Sitting on the edge of the table, he brought a hand to his head, dizziness clear in his face. Seriousness entered the room, leaving no room for their teasing repartee. “You shouldn't be here. Claire, you need to get yourself someplace safe. Mohinder can give you Peter's address. He'll take care of you.”
“What? Screw that!” Claire scoffed at this suggestion. “I'm not leaving you, Sylar. You're barely able to move. And who knows if and when whoever did this to you is going to come back.”
“That's the problem. I can't--” He spoke quietly, rubbing his fingers in tiny circles at his temples. Claire could see him fighting to tell her something, opening his mouth and then shutting it with a sigh as words failed him. Finally losing his temper, Sylar yelled at her like she was nothing more than an insolent child. “I'm tired of being bothered by you, okay? I'm tired of protecting you like I'm supposed to be some goddamn hero. Give it up.” He stalked towards her, grabbing her shoulders. “We both know what side I'm play for.”
She flinched away involuntarily; surprised to see this side of him coming out, after everything they'd been through together. His nails dug into her arms, gripping them tightly. “Stop it. You're hurting me.”
“That's what I do, Claire. I hurt people.” He grabbed her chin with his hand, forcing her to look up at him. “I break them and I cut them, I suck out their brains and torture them until they bleed to death. And you know something? I like it. I enjoy it. It's who I am.”
Claire threw up her arm, breaking his hold on her and backed away. Could she have been wrong about coming here and saving him? No, she'd seen a change in him these past few days, Claire was sure about that. It couldn't all be wiped away in one night. He wasn't morally black, few people ever were these days, most humans were just morally gray, just like her father used to say.
He wouldn't relent in his plan. Sylar took another step in her direction and began to describe things she always avoided talking about with him. “There's nothing quite like their screaming, how it fills your ears..” he smiled and closed his eyes, as if remembering it all. He faltered as another wave of dizziness washed through him, but then continued, “It's beautiful, Claire. It's--”
Claire didn't know what to do, so she did the first thing that came to mind. She smacked him across the face with all of her strength. It stunned the both of them.
She covered her wide mouth with her hand, before gathering herself enough to reply. “Stop it! Just stop it! I don't know what happened to you while I was gone, but I did not come all this way so that you could speak like this to me.” She shivered and the glare in his eyes seemed to shift slightly. She wanted to cry and run, but she held back. She starred through watery eyes, matching his look of defiance. “Now you're not a good person, obviously not, but I need you and you're going to help me. If you need me to further clarify this situation for you, I will.”
Claire held up her hand, daring him to give her another excuse to smack him again. She prayed Sylar wouldn't be able to tell how much she was shaking.
He was still rubbing the side of his face, where she'd hit him when he laughed at her show of false power. “Please, I'd kill you before you could do anything.” When she failed to react to his threat, Sylar shook his head, mocking the stupidity he thought he saw in her. “Fine. Just don't blame me when you get hurt. I gave you a chance and, trust me, that was your last one. It's not my fault you don't know what's good for you.”
Sylar started getting woozy, the stress of the fight getting to him. Claire wrapped an arm around his waist before he could fall over, muttering all the while. “Idiot.”
“Masochist.” He returned the jab but let her help him anyway.
No more words were spoken between them. He didn't need to say anything; his words rang in Claire's ears. Nor could she forget the way his eyes danced when he described the pleasure in taking a life.
Still, she couldn't bring herself to leave him here. There was a light in his eyes, the slightest hint that he could be a better man. It was enough for her to believe in for now.
Claire helped him around various boxes and shipping crates until they found the main exit out of the warehouse. Her pace slowed by Sylar's stumbling gait and his own reluctance to follow her. They both knew he would though. They were stuck with each other for the time being.
..to be continued..