Title: Reality Fantasy
Author: Bunny
Rating: T
Disclaimer: Not mine at all; I just like to play!
Summary: One-shot; Post- Let it Bleed. Sylar struggles with the reality of a certain tattoo while Claire struggles with her fantasies.
A/N: My computer's been kicking my ass! Technology is a love/hate relationship…
Standing out against the crowd with taunting eyes, Claire couldn't help but notice him. The throngs of moving people between them blurred all around in slow motion. Staring directly at him she walked straight in his direction, the patrons never once running into her. The delayed steps she took were exaggerated as he walked behind a corner at normal speed.
Briefly worried he would be gone she tried to walk quicker; only to move at the same pace. The only thing that mattered to her was the dark man luring her to come after him. Rounding the corner Claire only saw a railing overlooking the blurry people, not a soul on her level. Stepping up to it, she placed her hands on the wood looking down to try and spot him.
"Following me again?"
Claire gasped meaning to spin around, but was unable to do so because of the firm body suddenly pinning her against the barrier. He leaned into her more, her breathing constricted due to the edge pressing under her ribs.
"I know when you're there. Do you think you were clever leading me out in the open?" She dry swallowed the lump in her throat, shivering as his fingers traced her bare shoulder. "Answer me."
"Yes."
"And here I am, getting the upper hand on you." The other hand reached down to torturously drag the loose skirt up her thigh. "Quite literally." The hand by her shoulder suddenly grabbed her hair, tilting her head to the side so he could bite at the nape of her neck. Not able to help it Claire let out a throaty moan at the rough contact and taunting fingers running up her leg. "You know those people down there could see us if they looked up?"
"Yes."
His fingers just short of their goal; emitting a deep chuckle at her vexing cry. "You want me, don't you? You want me to do this."
"God, yes," she panted, legs shaking as she pushing back into him.
"Say my name."
"Sylar."
***
Jerking awake, Claire sighed as she brought her palms to rub her eyes. It had been awhile since she had one of those dreams. The part she hated most, besides the fact that her subconscious was betraying her, was that she always felt him nearby afterwards. A pull on the side of her brain followed by the occasional tingle down her side. Typically it faded moments after she awoke. Months prior his presence was impossible, but now…
Head still down at the base of her bed where she laid after Nathan's funeral, she rolled from her side to her back still not opening her eyes. Nathan was now dead, had been dead for a long while. And here she was having fantasies about the man who murdered him. Some dreams were voyeuristic like this one, others were convoluted, others more graphic, or even – dare she say it – romantic.
That damn pull hadn't left her mind yet, tugging at her right side. Frustrated mentally and physically Claire opted for a long, freezing cold shower. Sitting up she pulled off her black over shirt, leaving her in a black tank top. Dropping it to the floor, she flopped her head down to her knees. Exhausted she sighed once more, feeling the haze of sleep fade from her body.
Claire also noticed that pull was only getting stronger the more awake she became.
Stomach dropping, her entire body jolted as she whipped around to acknowledge the dark man in the room. Sylar lounged on Gretchen's bed, arms comfortably behind his head, smirking as he watched her. "What?" His smirk grew wider as he held his arms open, "No hug?"
Fueled by the blind fury that raged through her veins, Claire launched to attack him. Not expecting an assault from her, Sylar did not immediately react as she landed hits and scratched at his face. "You sick, twisted bastard!" she cried out in between blows.
Not long after her violent outburst, Sylar held out his hand sending her crashing into the wall. Trying to move against the nonexistent bonds, her eyes slighted in his direction. Bringing his other hand up to touch a healing cut, he addressed her, "Ow."
"You deserve so much more than that," she spat, small satisfaction swelling in her chest as she fought to free herself. Sexy dream aside, she still wanted him to suffer. "Now let me go."
"Only if you'll play nice."
Her still silence must have been answer enough for him as she found herself able to move again. Claire sat on the side of the bed, thinking quickly to make the confrontation come to an end. "My dad's coming to visit at any time now –"
"Don't bother lying." Palming her phone Sylar clicked on a few buttons. "Missed call. Missed call. Missed call. Missed call. And many more; all from your father." He chucked the mobile towards her. Claire caught the flying object setting it on the bed, nerves on edge and ready for anything he did to her.
"Why are you here?"
"Because you're supposed to have answers I am looking for." Pulling up his sleeve he showed her a tattoo of her face on his forearm.
Raising an eyebrow, Claire observed, "Even for a stalker, that's going a little too far."
Sylar eyed her without moving. "Whether you or I want to admit it, our lives are tied together. After getting out of my Parkman Prison, I went to collect more powers –"
"You mean murder people," she interrupted, crossing her arms.
"If you like," Sylar nodded leaning closer to her, voice lowering. "But instead I am now on a soul searching mission. And the only thing I have learned is that, in reality, you're always there. Somehow, my life always comes back to you."
"Flattered," she pointed not so kindly to the ink face. "Now could you get rid of that?"
Sighing in frustration, Sylar pulled his sleeve down once more. "It should go away once you help me."
"Help you?" she repeated with a laugh. "Yeah, that's going to happen."
Ignoring her protests, he continued. "Was there ever a time I connected with you?"
"I think your finger poking around my brain was a pretty close connection," she snapped, wondering at that moment how she could ever think she wanted him so badly.
"No, that's not what I mean." Sylar stood pacing slowly along the room. "Have we ever had an emotional connection? Was there ever a time I unintentionally helped you? Have you ever seen me as something other than a monster? As someone you looked to?"
Claire's initial reaction was to laugh sarcastically, but the sound died in her throat. A memory flared in her head, one that he was looking for.
Of course he saw the spark of recognition in her face as he ticked his head to the side. "The sooner you answer me, the faster I'm gone."
Feeling she may choke on her words, Claire muttered, "You were right." His pacing ceased and he turned to face her, tired hope forming in his eyes. "At the Stanton, you were right."
"About what?"
Unable to look at him while she spoke, Claire suddenly found her fingernails highly interesting. "Back in June Lyle got into a car accident. He's fine now, but he was in a mini-coma for six days. The entire time I'd be sitting there, holding Mom's hand, hugging Dad, visiting with his friends; all I could think of was you. And what you said." A subject she didn't enjoy thinking about, Claire bit her lip and closed her eyes. "Everyone I know and care about is going to die. And whether I wanted to admit it, you were always going to be there. And in a messed up way it was comforting. Only, you couldn't because you were dead." Giving a short laugh, she flipped her hair back. "I was actually more angry at you in that moment then I ever had been."
"Why?"
"Because you left me alone." Sylar's gaze seemed lost as he stared blankly into space. The open honesty she was speaking with surprised even her. Standing, she nervously rubbed her hands on her legs. "I'm pretty sure that's all the wisdom I can give you."
Snapping back to reality, Sylar shook his head. "Maybe on the surface; but subconsciously, in the back of your brain, there's more."
Claire blanched as she felt her blood run cold. "If you think you're going to poke in my brain again –"
"No, that's not what I mean," interrupted Sylar, stepping closer to her. Attempting to not appear anxious she remained where she was, ready to claw at his face again if necessary. "I actually acquired a new power. One where I can sense a persons deeper thoughts. But the trick is," he reached to take her hand, but Claire jerked it away. "It requires a bit of physical contact."
"Of course it does," sighed Claire. Offering her hand back, he chuckled. Rolling her eyes, she put on a tight smile. "A hand shake isn't going to cut it."
"You always were a bright one," he murmured, hand ghosting over her bare shoulder and down her arm.
Flushing lightly she put both hands on his chest shoving him back. "Forget it. There is no way we are going to –"
"I can get what I'm looking for with one kiss," Sylar assured stepping right back near her.
The heat rolling off his looming form made her lick her dry lips. "Then you'll leave?"
"If you want." Her breath hitched as he drew her closer, his arm around her waist leaving almost no room between them.
Mentally reminding herself this was not one of her dreams; Claire tried to suppress a shudder as she looked him straight in the eye, heart fluttering at the dark gaze she found. "And you think that in one kiss, all your questions will be answered."
Sylar grinned, tilting her chin up with a single finger that set her skin on fire. "I'm actually hoping it will take more than just one."
She could feel their breaths mingling as he stopped before her lips, testing if she would close the gap. "Not a chance," she uttered, not completely convinced at her own declaration.
"Then I'll have to make it last."
Inwardly cursing her body melting at that declaration she nearly lost all ability to stand before his mouth came down on hers. Leaning against him to remain upright, she clutched onto his shirt with both hands. For a few seconds, maybe minutes, they remained pressed against each other. Finally his mouth moved, sucking on her lips. Unable to help it after a few more presses, she opened her mouth to let him in.
The hand that had grasped onto her shoulder moved its way up to clutch onto her hair. Securing his fingers around her golden locks he somehow was able to kiss her more deeply. The stubble on his face scratched into her made her want to pull him nearer. The tug on her hair caused her toes to curl. The tongue that flicked against hers took away her ability to breath.
Claire's mind worked to wrap around the fact this was actually happening. Not wanting to give the real him the satisfaction that she was enjoying their long kiss; she tried to not make any vocal noises. This proved exceedingly difficult to resist as she could feel vibrations from his chest due to his groaning.
Inhaling deeply as he pulled away, Sylar's eyes remained closed. Claire mouth dropped open amazed by the physical reaction that coursed through her body. Snapping her jaw closed she forced down the urge to grab him for another go. Her own fantasies were perverse enough, she couldn't allow herself to enjoy the reality.
But it had definitely been better than any fantasy.
And that had just been a kiss.
"Well, that was insightful." Inspecting her with hooded eyes, he picked a piece of blonde tousled hair sniffing it. "Certainly wouldn't mind a repeat performance."
"I hate you."
Lip quirking to that damn smirk once more, Sylar scoffed as he continued to play with her hair. Face still close to hers, he touched her jaw to ensure that she looked into his eyes.
"I love you, too, Claire."
Her eyes grew wide as she felt as though someone had punched her in the gut. Struggling to have a comeback, even just to swallow or breathe, her mind raced. Normally she would express her disgust, push him away, fling a stinging insult; essentially repeat their confrontation in the Stanton.
But the way he expressed those words, it was as if he was acknowledging something she hadn't said admitted. It sounded completely natural, at ease, as though he had said it for years.
And at that moment all she ached to close the hovering gap for another kiss.
At the click of the doorknob Sylar dipped in to press his mouth against hers briefly, leaving her lips burning as she reached for more. He stepped away before she could achieve that additional contact, eyes twinkling in amusement.
Realizing she had been caught, Claire settled on a glare, crossing her arms in front of her.
Gretchen stopped just inside the door seeing she interrupted something, hesitating on what to say. "You're back."
"Yeah," she muttered, still unable to look away from Sylar, still feeling that invisible pull.
Sensing the awkward tension, she pointed asking, "And who is this? Someone from the funeral or –"
"He was just leaving," Claire instructed. She set her tone so there was no room for argument, from either Sylar or herself.
Tilting his head he conceded, walking towards the door. Lingering in the hall, he informed, "I'll contact you soon, Claire."
"I'm sure you will," she replied, having absolutely no doubt in his promise. As calmly as she could, Claire swung the door shut; eye contact breaking for the first time since Gretchen entered.
Once the door closed Claire set her forehead against the wood exhaling deeply, allowing her body to cool down.
Later that night her phone buzzed as a text message was received. Opening it without looking, she gave her own smirk at the message and unknown number that accompanied it.
If you ever need me don't hesitate to call.
Deciding there was no reason to ignore him, she responded bluntly to prove she wasn't going to be bothered by his reappearance.
I don't need you.
Just seconds later the phone buzzed again and she eagerly clicked the 'view' button.
Next time you want me then.
Flushing at the memory of her dream she panicked for a moment. Settling on there was no way he could have known, Claire impulsively replied.
What makes you think I want you?
His answer nearly made her drop the phone.
You should be careful whose name you moan in your sleep.