(no subject)
Title: Define Dangerous
Characters: Sylar, Claire.
Spoilers: Up to Season 2.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2748
Chapter: 19/?
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, Chapter 17, Chapter 18,
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.
They'd been sitting in the car, parked right down the dirt road to Peter's lake house for a half hour now. Much of the narrow road was blocked by their car but that's where Claire stopped anyway. She turned off the engine, pulled the keys out of the ignition and starred out at the impressive log cabin, made of dark logs and rustic accents. She didn't want to go up there, not yet, so they sat in relative silence, watching the shore that hugged the road.
Not for the first time, Claire told him, “I can't do it. I don't know what to say to him.”
“We didn't drive all the way here, with the company on our heals, to sit outside his house like a bunch of stalkers.” Sylar watched as she bit her lip and seemed to ponder her decision. She still seemed resigned to remain there, sitting in the car for the rest of eternity. “I don't know about you, but I have better people to stalk than Peter Petrelli.”
She gripped the steering wheel with both hands, as if clinging to it for support and possibly an anchor to hold her in place. “God, I'm so nervous-- what do I even say?”
“I usually start conversations with 'hi, I'm going to kill you now' but for you I think 'hi' would be sufficient enough.” He joked but it didn't seem to lighten her mood at all. With a disgusted sigh, Sylar opened his door and exited the car. He slammed it shut behind him, leaving Claire alone to figure out what she wanted to do. There was only so much indecision Sylar would stand.
He began walking down the road, his boots squishing pine needles beneath them. Sylar listened for the sound of her getting out of the car and following, but heard nothing. She was still too afraid to make a move for fear that it would be the wrong one. Her hesitancy bothered Sylar to no end; she was still so much a child, always looking for the approval of others.
At last, Claire rolled down her window. “Where are you going?”
Sylar stopped and turned back around. “This is stupid, Claire. If you won't come out to see your uncle, I'm going to go talk to him alone. Maybe I can drag his sorry ass out here so he can talk some sense into you.”
“He won't want to see you.” Claire replied. This was true. They were still mortal enemies after all; the fight never ended between them and most likely never would. “He still wants to kill you. You murdered a lot of his friends. Niki, DL--”
“Okay, okay.” Sylar cut her off. There were few things that could cause an argument between them quicker than rehashing the past. This tactic of hers wouldn't work; he refused to go down that path with her again. “I get it. Me and Peter will never see eye to eye, but you're his niece. You must have lots of crazy Petrelli crap to talk about with each other. And so help me, if I have to drag you kicking and screaming down the block, I will.”
She muttered a few choice phrases under her breath, which Sylar pretended not to hear and parked the car underneath some trees. After getting out, Claire held her arms crossed against her chest like she was cold, although there was no chill in the air. “Fine. Whatever you want. I mean, you're the serial killer, after all. You'd probably kill me if I refused again, wouldn't you?”
“With a smile in my heart, Claire.” He sarcastically answered. Despite the opposition growing between them, Sylar placed a hand on her shoulder, protecting her from whatever she thought might happen as they walked towards Peter's front door.
Fireflies flickered on and off in the darkness, while the crashing of little waves of the lake mixed with the fast beating sound of Claire's heart. The whole place seemed green, dark green now in the dim light. It was a nice enough place to retire, if you could settle down for any length of time. With people still on Sylar's tail, he doubted he would be resting in any one place for long.
When they reached the front stoop, Claire hesitated again and pulled away. She almost made a run for it but Sylar held an arm around her waist, halting her in her path. He couldn't help laughing at her feeble escape attempt. “Not so fast. The door's this way. You want to knock on it or should I?”
Sylar hustled her up the stairs and she starred at the door, then up at him. He could tell the next word out of her lips would start the whole process of whining and procrastination all over again. He didn't want to deal with that again, so Sylar held Claire next to him with one hand and knocked on the heavy, wooden door with the other. She could do nothing about the control he had over her but pout.
“That solves that.” Sylar told her, letting her go and giving her some space to collect herself before meeting her uncle. He could hear footsteps coming down from the second floor, ambling to the door.
“I'm coming.” Peter's voice called through the door before opening it, making Claire's eyes go wide and her mouth drop slightly. She sucked in a deep breath through her nose and held it until the door opened. Peter stood there confused for a moment, as if he was witnessing the impossible. “Oh my god, Claire?” His eyes narrowed, the shock replaced quickly with anger. “What the hell are you doing here?!”
At first Sylar thought Peter was asking him that question and began to think of a good explanation. Then he noticed Peter was still starring down at Claire, having never taken his eyes off of her. In all truth, the other man probably hadn't even seen Sylar yet, too preoccupied with whatever grudge he held against his niece.
Claire shut her mouth and opened it again, only to shut it once again. She couldn't find the words and the way Peter was scrutinizing her didn't make communication any easier. Her eyes watered as she withdrew backwards, nearly falling off the edge of the porch and missing the step below it.
Finally, she spoke with a voice that seemed so far away. “Your face.. you look so different with the scar.” She reached out a timid hand, feeling the scar beneath her fingers. It ran diagonally down the length of his face, just above his right eye all the way to his left cheek. Something-- or someone had decided to slice its way across his face, leaving evidence of a previously fought battle. “Why didn't you heal it?”
Peter smacked her hand away. “Because I didn't want anything to do with you. I don't need your powers. I don't need any reminder that you ever existed or that I ever had a niece. Nathan never should have gotten involved with you.”
The broken, little girl who started this trip with Sylar was coming to the surface, as Claire retreated within herself at her uncle's rejection. Seeing her shrink back from the onslaught of Peter's insults, Sylar stepped in between them, pushing Peter back. “Your niece just crawled her way out of hell and that's all you have to say to her?”
“Sylar?” Peter finally noticed he was there. He ground his teeth, sharpening his words with intent to hurt Claire as deep as he could. “I knew you were nothing but trouble, but now you're keeping company with Sylar? What happened, got tired of screwing things up by yourself?”
“Okay, that's it.” Sylar grabbed Peter's shirt collar, shoving him against the closed door and rounded back to punch him. Using his powers would have been quicker, but there came times when physical violence was much more satisfying. He could already feel the bones in his fist connecting with Peter's nose, breaking it open and bleeding down his face; it was going to feel so good. “I tried to be nice. I tried to put everything behind us but you're really starting to piss me off.”
Claire caught his arm in in mid-swing. “No, Sylar. Please don't.” He glanced back at her, the fight leaving him as he saw how shaken she was in the midst of all this drama. This wasn't helping her any, he was powerless in this situation. “Whatever Peter's problem with me is--”
“You don't even know, do you?” Peter started again, pushing Sylar out of the way as he neared Claire. She moved down the stairs subconsciously when Peter pointed his finger at her, placing all the blame he'd held for years on her fragile shoulders. “My brother's dead because he was protecting you.”
“No.” Claire shook her head in disbelief, tears falling down her cheeks. Peter was delighting in sending her over the edge, since he clearly had taken a nice long vacation there himself. “He didn't.. he wouldn't.”
“Nathan's death was your fault. They killed him to get to you.” Peter stood on the steps, towering over Claire as she backed away. “He said would sacrifice himself to protect you from the company, but what about me, Claire? Did I have to lose my brother in order to protect you too? He was all I had, Claire. He was everything.”
Sylar was beginning to put things together and reach some startling conclusions; some of the puzzle pieces still seemed out of place though. He climbed down the steps, coming to stand beside Claire. She was shaking and it only made Sylar hate Peter more. “I thought your brother died because of his involvement in politics. Some other campaign--”
“Oh, please, that's what the company wants you to think. The amount of cover ups those people do, they rewrite history as they please.” Peter sneered and walked back inside the house, turning back only to tell them. “I don't ever want to see you here again, Claire. Do you understand me? You got my brother killed and ruined my life in the process. The chapter of my life with you in it is officially closed.”
“Peter.. wait, please--”
The door slammed shut in their faces before Claire could get her plea out. She stood there without moving for a moment, shaking and taking shuddering breaths. Sylar tried to hold her but she wouldn't let him and pushed away. Instead, she started crying and took off running down the road.
Sylar took one last disgusted look at Peter's door, wondering if Claire would honestly care if he killed the boy now. It would be okay; no one would miss Peter. Claire might even forgive him this one little murder once she came to accept that the last member of her family was a jerk. Then Sylar heard Claire's distance sobs and hurried to catch up with her.
“Claire?” It was so dark that once he got past the light coming from the house, he could barely see anything. He narrowly avoided walking into a tree and he let out a curse as his foot collided with a large rock. “Could you please tell me where you are so I don't have to continue tripping around in the dark?”
Sylar heard her again, sobbing on the shoreline where a small sandy beach met the road. Down by the lake, he noticed her shape surrounded in moonlight and huddled on the sands. He took a deep breath, watching her in her time of agony. Moving with a hesitated slowness, Sylar crept over to her and wrapped his arms around her but she still did not allow him to comfort her.
“Don't touch me. I'm dangerous. I'll only get you hurt.” She picked herself up on her knees, fighting to get away from him. Claire clawed at him, smacked him, hit him but that didn't make him loosen his grip on her. He took every blow offered, helping her to fight off her pain. “Everyone gets hurt because of me, Sylar. Everyone!”
Sylar took both her wrists in his hands so she couldn't hit him again and then spoke to her, hoping he could reach her through her own self-hatred. “Hello, kettle, this is the goddamn pot you're talking to here. I think I know a thing or two about people getting hurt because of things done in the past. Only there's this one big difference between your past and mine: I meant to hurt those people and you had absolutely no part in what happened to Nathan. It wasn't your fault, Claire.”
“God, why did the company use him to get to me? Why couldn't they just leave him alone?” Claire fought off his touch, recoiling inward and breaking down again. She wanted to find fault in her actions, needing to be blamed and not consoled. She scratched long, red welts down her arm as way of self-injury until Sylar stopped her by pinning her to the ground.
His hands held her arms while he knelt over her and spoke. “It wasn't your fault, Claire. And I'm not moving until you accept that.”
She searched the sky full of stars for answers but couldn't find much sense in all her pain. It took a while but Claire finally let go of some small part of her own blame. Her voice broke as she started apologizing for things she had no control over. “I didn't mean it.. I didn't mean to get him killed. I didn't mean to get any of them killed.”
“Peter's an ass. Don't listen to him.” Sylar soothed her the only way he knew how, by making fun of the other Petrellis. “What he said was completely fucked up and I should know,” he told her as he lifted himself off of her and sat down on the sand. “I'm as fucked up as they come.”
“He won't even talk to me. Where am I supposed to go?” Claire lay there, watching the sky before sitting up and resting her head against his shoulder. Her words mingled with choking tears. “I have no family, where am I supposed to do now?”
She was looking to him for wisdom but he didn't have any to offer here. Instead of answering her, Sylar rubbed his hand over her shoulders and watched the waves crash against the rocky shoreline. He wasn't good at things like this; he didn't know how to comfort someone when they were breaking down in front of him. There was only one thing he was really good at in the world and he doubted killing Peter would help right now.
After a moment, he finally answered. “We'll figure something out. I'll go talk to him again. Maybe--”
“No. Don't--” Claire clung to his arm, a sudden panic taking over. “Let's just go. We can get out of here, find another road and keep moving.”
That was completely out of the question. Sylar had things to do, things he didn't want Claire to take part in or witness. She was still so young, so fragile. Besides, there were still company men after him and they would find him eventually. He wasn't stupid enough to think that they'd be thrown off Sylar's trail by simply destroying the tracking system. He wouldn't be able to keep her safe.
He nodded his agreement anyway and helped Claire to her feet.
She leaned on him until they found the car again and then got in without a sound. She was sleeping before he could get to the driver's side door, exhausted by the day's traveling and the argument with her uncle. He frowned, unsure what he could do for her now.
As he turned the car around, Sylar hesitated for a moment and starred in the direction of the cabin. There was nothing more he wanted than to go kill that man with his own bare hands for hurting Claire, though he knew that would be pointless. “You're a fucking moron, Peter Petrelli.”
Sylar drove around town for a while, until he found a small bed and breakfast motel. They'd get some rest tonight and then he'd see what could be done in the morning. He was going to make things right for Claire, no matter how many heads he needed to knock around or how many people he had to kill.
..to be continued..
Characters: Sylar, Claire.
Spoilers: Up to Season 2.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2748
Chapter: 19/?
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, Chapter 17, Chapter 18,
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.
They'd been sitting in the car, parked right down the dirt road to Peter's lake house for a half hour now. Much of the narrow road was blocked by their car but that's where Claire stopped anyway. She turned off the engine, pulled the keys out of the ignition and starred out at the impressive log cabin, made of dark logs and rustic accents. She didn't want to go up there, not yet, so they sat in relative silence, watching the shore that hugged the road.
Not for the first time, Claire told him, “I can't do it. I don't know what to say to him.”
“We didn't drive all the way here, with the company on our heals, to sit outside his house like a bunch of stalkers.” Sylar watched as she bit her lip and seemed to ponder her decision. She still seemed resigned to remain there, sitting in the car for the rest of eternity. “I don't know about you, but I have better people to stalk than Peter Petrelli.”
She gripped the steering wheel with both hands, as if clinging to it for support and possibly an anchor to hold her in place. “God, I'm so nervous-- what do I even say?”
“I usually start conversations with 'hi, I'm going to kill you now' but for you I think 'hi' would be sufficient enough.” He joked but it didn't seem to lighten her mood at all. With a disgusted sigh, Sylar opened his door and exited the car. He slammed it shut behind him, leaving Claire alone to figure out what she wanted to do. There was only so much indecision Sylar would stand.
He began walking down the road, his boots squishing pine needles beneath them. Sylar listened for the sound of her getting out of the car and following, but heard nothing. She was still too afraid to make a move for fear that it would be the wrong one. Her hesitancy bothered Sylar to no end; she was still so much a child, always looking for the approval of others.
At last, Claire rolled down her window. “Where are you going?”
Sylar stopped and turned back around. “This is stupid, Claire. If you won't come out to see your uncle, I'm going to go talk to him alone. Maybe I can drag his sorry ass out here so he can talk some sense into you.”
“He won't want to see you.” Claire replied. This was true. They were still mortal enemies after all; the fight never ended between them and most likely never would. “He still wants to kill you. You murdered a lot of his friends. Niki, DL--”
“Okay, okay.” Sylar cut her off. There were few things that could cause an argument between them quicker than rehashing the past. This tactic of hers wouldn't work; he refused to go down that path with her again. “I get it. Me and Peter will never see eye to eye, but you're his niece. You must have lots of crazy Petrelli crap to talk about with each other. And so help me, if I have to drag you kicking and screaming down the block, I will.”
She muttered a few choice phrases under her breath, which Sylar pretended not to hear and parked the car underneath some trees. After getting out, Claire held her arms crossed against her chest like she was cold, although there was no chill in the air. “Fine. Whatever you want. I mean, you're the serial killer, after all. You'd probably kill me if I refused again, wouldn't you?”
“With a smile in my heart, Claire.” He sarcastically answered. Despite the opposition growing between them, Sylar placed a hand on her shoulder, protecting her from whatever she thought might happen as they walked towards Peter's front door.
Fireflies flickered on and off in the darkness, while the crashing of little waves of the lake mixed with the fast beating sound of Claire's heart. The whole place seemed green, dark green now in the dim light. It was a nice enough place to retire, if you could settle down for any length of time. With people still on Sylar's tail, he doubted he would be resting in any one place for long.
When they reached the front stoop, Claire hesitated again and pulled away. She almost made a run for it but Sylar held an arm around her waist, halting her in her path. He couldn't help laughing at her feeble escape attempt. “Not so fast. The door's this way. You want to knock on it or should I?”
Sylar hustled her up the stairs and she starred at the door, then up at him. He could tell the next word out of her lips would start the whole process of whining and procrastination all over again. He didn't want to deal with that again, so Sylar held Claire next to him with one hand and knocked on the heavy, wooden door with the other. She could do nothing about the control he had over her but pout.
“That solves that.” Sylar told her, letting her go and giving her some space to collect herself before meeting her uncle. He could hear footsteps coming down from the second floor, ambling to the door.
“I'm coming.” Peter's voice called through the door before opening it, making Claire's eyes go wide and her mouth drop slightly. She sucked in a deep breath through her nose and held it until the door opened. Peter stood there confused for a moment, as if he was witnessing the impossible. “Oh my god, Claire?” His eyes narrowed, the shock replaced quickly with anger. “What the hell are you doing here?!”
At first Sylar thought Peter was asking him that question and began to think of a good explanation. Then he noticed Peter was still starring down at Claire, having never taken his eyes off of her. In all truth, the other man probably hadn't even seen Sylar yet, too preoccupied with whatever grudge he held against his niece.
Claire shut her mouth and opened it again, only to shut it once again. She couldn't find the words and the way Peter was scrutinizing her didn't make communication any easier. Her eyes watered as she withdrew backwards, nearly falling off the edge of the porch and missing the step below it.
Finally, she spoke with a voice that seemed so far away. “Your face.. you look so different with the scar.” She reached out a timid hand, feeling the scar beneath her fingers. It ran diagonally down the length of his face, just above his right eye all the way to his left cheek. Something-- or someone had decided to slice its way across his face, leaving evidence of a previously fought battle. “Why didn't you heal it?”
Peter smacked her hand away. “Because I didn't want anything to do with you. I don't need your powers. I don't need any reminder that you ever existed or that I ever had a niece. Nathan never should have gotten involved with you.”
The broken, little girl who started this trip with Sylar was coming to the surface, as Claire retreated within herself at her uncle's rejection. Seeing her shrink back from the onslaught of Peter's insults, Sylar stepped in between them, pushing Peter back. “Your niece just crawled her way out of hell and that's all you have to say to her?”
“Sylar?” Peter finally noticed he was there. He ground his teeth, sharpening his words with intent to hurt Claire as deep as he could. “I knew you were nothing but trouble, but now you're keeping company with Sylar? What happened, got tired of screwing things up by yourself?”
“Okay, that's it.” Sylar grabbed Peter's shirt collar, shoving him against the closed door and rounded back to punch him. Using his powers would have been quicker, but there came times when physical violence was much more satisfying. He could already feel the bones in his fist connecting with Peter's nose, breaking it open and bleeding down his face; it was going to feel so good. “I tried to be nice. I tried to put everything behind us but you're really starting to piss me off.”
Claire caught his arm in in mid-swing. “No, Sylar. Please don't.” He glanced back at her, the fight leaving him as he saw how shaken she was in the midst of all this drama. This wasn't helping her any, he was powerless in this situation. “Whatever Peter's problem with me is--”
“You don't even know, do you?” Peter started again, pushing Sylar out of the way as he neared Claire. She moved down the stairs subconsciously when Peter pointed his finger at her, placing all the blame he'd held for years on her fragile shoulders. “My brother's dead because he was protecting you.”
“No.” Claire shook her head in disbelief, tears falling down her cheeks. Peter was delighting in sending her over the edge, since he clearly had taken a nice long vacation there himself. “He didn't.. he wouldn't.”
“Nathan's death was your fault. They killed him to get to you.” Peter stood on the steps, towering over Claire as she backed away. “He said would sacrifice himself to protect you from the company, but what about me, Claire? Did I have to lose my brother in order to protect you too? He was all I had, Claire. He was everything.”
Sylar was beginning to put things together and reach some startling conclusions; some of the puzzle pieces still seemed out of place though. He climbed down the steps, coming to stand beside Claire. She was shaking and it only made Sylar hate Peter more. “I thought your brother died because of his involvement in politics. Some other campaign--”
“Oh, please, that's what the company wants you to think. The amount of cover ups those people do, they rewrite history as they please.” Peter sneered and walked back inside the house, turning back only to tell them. “I don't ever want to see you here again, Claire. Do you understand me? You got my brother killed and ruined my life in the process. The chapter of my life with you in it is officially closed.”
“Peter.. wait, please--”
The door slammed shut in their faces before Claire could get her plea out. She stood there without moving for a moment, shaking and taking shuddering breaths. Sylar tried to hold her but she wouldn't let him and pushed away. Instead, she started crying and took off running down the road.
Sylar took one last disgusted look at Peter's door, wondering if Claire would honestly care if he killed the boy now. It would be okay; no one would miss Peter. Claire might even forgive him this one little murder once she came to accept that the last member of her family was a jerk. Then Sylar heard Claire's distance sobs and hurried to catch up with her.
“Claire?” It was so dark that once he got past the light coming from the house, he could barely see anything. He narrowly avoided walking into a tree and he let out a curse as his foot collided with a large rock. “Could you please tell me where you are so I don't have to continue tripping around in the dark?”
Sylar heard her again, sobbing on the shoreline where a small sandy beach met the road. Down by the lake, he noticed her shape surrounded in moonlight and huddled on the sands. He took a deep breath, watching her in her time of agony. Moving with a hesitated slowness, Sylar crept over to her and wrapped his arms around her but she still did not allow him to comfort her.
“Don't touch me. I'm dangerous. I'll only get you hurt.” She picked herself up on her knees, fighting to get away from him. Claire clawed at him, smacked him, hit him but that didn't make him loosen his grip on her. He took every blow offered, helping her to fight off her pain. “Everyone gets hurt because of me, Sylar. Everyone!”
Sylar took both her wrists in his hands so she couldn't hit him again and then spoke to her, hoping he could reach her through her own self-hatred. “Hello, kettle, this is the goddamn pot you're talking to here. I think I know a thing or two about people getting hurt because of things done in the past. Only there's this one big difference between your past and mine: I meant to hurt those people and you had absolutely no part in what happened to Nathan. It wasn't your fault, Claire.”
“God, why did the company use him to get to me? Why couldn't they just leave him alone?” Claire fought off his touch, recoiling inward and breaking down again. She wanted to find fault in her actions, needing to be blamed and not consoled. She scratched long, red welts down her arm as way of self-injury until Sylar stopped her by pinning her to the ground.
His hands held her arms while he knelt over her and spoke. “It wasn't your fault, Claire. And I'm not moving until you accept that.”
She searched the sky full of stars for answers but couldn't find much sense in all her pain. It took a while but Claire finally let go of some small part of her own blame. Her voice broke as she started apologizing for things she had no control over. “I didn't mean it.. I didn't mean to get him killed. I didn't mean to get any of them killed.”
“Peter's an ass. Don't listen to him.” Sylar soothed her the only way he knew how, by making fun of the other Petrellis. “What he said was completely fucked up and I should know,” he told her as he lifted himself off of her and sat down on the sand. “I'm as fucked up as they come.”
“He won't even talk to me. Where am I supposed to go?” Claire lay there, watching the sky before sitting up and resting her head against his shoulder. Her words mingled with choking tears. “I have no family, where am I supposed to do now?”
She was looking to him for wisdom but he didn't have any to offer here. Instead of answering her, Sylar rubbed his hand over her shoulders and watched the waves crash against the rocky shoreline. He wasn't good at things like this; he didn't know how to comfort someone when they were breaking down in front of him. There was only one thing he was really good at in the world and he doubted killing Peter would help right now.
After a moment, he finally answered. “We'll figure something out. I'll go talk to him again. Maybe--”
“No. Don't--” Claire clung to his arm, a sudden panic taking over. “Let's just go. We can get out of here, find another road and keep moving.”
That was completely out of the question. Sylar had things to do, things he didn't want Claire to take part in or witness. She was still so young, so fragile. Besides, there were still company men after him and they would find him eventually. He wasn't stupid enough to think that they'd be thrown off Sylar's trail by simply destroying the tracking system. He wouldn't be able to keep her safe.
He nodded his agreement anyway and helped Claire to her feet.
She leaned on him until they found the car again and then got in without a sound. She was sleeping before he could get to the driver's side door, exhausted by the day's traveling and the argument with her uncle. He frowned, unsure what he could do for her now.
As he turned the car around, Sylar hesitated for a moment and starred in the direction of the cabin. There was nothing more he wanted than to go kill that man with his own bare hands for hurting Claire, though he knew that would be pointless. “You're a fucking moron, Peter Petrelli.”
Sylar drove around town for a while, until he found a small bed and breakfast motel. They'd get some rest tonight and then he'd see what could be done in the morning. He was going to make things right for Claire, no matter how many heads he needed to knock around or how many people he had to kill.
..to be continued..