Death, the word is the most morbid thing that our tiny little brains (that Sylar seems so keen on taking for himself)have to think about, have to worry about and have to dread.
Dreading death isn't like dreading going school or your next bad hair day, no it's something much worse, well to you anyway.
To the both of is it's like a trip to the dentist; unavoidable but still unpleasant at the same time, Peter and me, doesn't that just sound so right?
A little too right on my blue dead lips because to us and the whole world it's worse then dying (which we do daily).
"Are you okay?"
Instead of being dead himself his words come out still-born and bone dry of any real feeling because who really worries about the girl who is dead most of her day and barely alive for the rest of it?
"I'm fine (liar, liar, pants on fire)."
It seems like days (not hours, two hours, three minutes and forty-five minutes since he left with a sinister smirk) since I was put back together again and picked up the blood red phone before the last ring.
"How is he?"
As he spoke of brothers filled with lead and our miracle blood ruining through his veins, all I could feel was useless.
The shock of my 'power' had worn off as I sat here shivering over the hurricane that was Sylar who had ripped me piece by piece apart but didn't forget to put me back together again.
This Peter (not mine, not even one bit of him) with his voice fading so fast had more ripping at him then I would ever know and the last thing he needed was the job of picking me off the ground, I could do that all on my own.
"Really everything fine with you, Claire?"
When he said my name a spark of my Peter began to inch its way out, trying to push past all of the black that was cover him, eating him alive from the inside out.
All I had to do was cry my heart out, tell him of the horrors that filled my endless days and with just that he would Peter again.
"Yes every things fine. Tell Nathan hi for me and to feel better, goodbye Peter, goodbye."