The air smelled of sulfur and burnt cardboard, fireworks and magic; still and unbreathing, the Florida night drowned Peter and Claire as they crept unnoticed through Epcot.
"This is absurd," Claire hissed, glancing over her shoulder at nothing in particular. Peter rolled his eyes and clamped his hand over her mouth as nonchalant as if he were giving her a hug. Squealing and struggling momentarily, Claire relented and pursed her lips behind his palm, hurrying through the Italy pavilion.
"This is not absurd, it's necessary," Peter responded in a low voice. "Can't you be adventurous for a change?" He knew immediately that he'd asked the wrong question, as Claire wheeled on him and narrowed her eyebrows maliciously. "I..."
Pinning Peter to a wall, Claire straightened up to her full height and leaned in. "I have followed you across the country, broken into Disney World, and am now stalking a maniac through a theme park at midnight. I'm sorry that my refusal to hum the Mission: Impossible theme song and wear all black has made me less than adventurous."
"I'm..."
"Did you stop for a second to stop and think what would happen if we get caught?" Peter couldn't help but smile. Biting his bottom lip, Peter shook his head, unsurprised to find that Claire was, if possible, angrier than before. "Peter!"
"Claire, I can fly," he stated. Claire opened her mouth to protest and then shut it quickly; he had a point. "I can teleport, become invisible, throw fire, regenerate body parts; something tells me that an unarmed security guard is going to be the least of our troubles here in the Sunshine State." Claire sighed, irritated.
"You just wanted to say Sunshine State in a sentence." Claire continued through the promenade, ducking gracefully behind a pillar as two teenagers, dressed in Olde American garb and wearing nametags that read "Leah, Orlando, FL" and "Megan, Salt Lake City, UT" strolled past, laughing loudly. Keeping an eye on Peter and an eye on the girls, Claire breathed out slowly as they disappeared out of sight. Turning towards Peter, Claire began to say something when he collided with her, skipping across the pavement, and rocketing into the sky.
"What the..."
"This is so not the happiest place on Earth," Peter grumbled, setting down on the top of the Mexico temple. "Sylar's here."
"I don't believe you," Claire shot back, standing up too quickly and stepping off the edge of the structure. It took her less time to heal from the fall than it did to actually hit the ground. She was rubbing her head when Peter set down next to her, rolling his eyes. He grabbed her by the sweater and they were off again, wind rushing through Claire's hair and fluting Peter's jacket out behind him. "You're on fire," he cried into her scalp, a second after Claire noticed that her entire lower body was charring.
"What the..."
"Peek-a-boo," a voice to her immediate left sing-songed before wrenching Claire from Peter's grasp and hurling her to the ground. Screaming, her last thought was that this was definitely going to hurt.
Slamming into the ground at a hundred miles an hour, Claire blacked out; her leg snapped clean in two; her lower jaw punctured through the skin and all of her teeth rattled loose. As blood poured from her wounds, Peter and Sylar fought high above her.
"You should have taught your girlfriend how to fly," Sylar snarled, easily dodging Peter's fireball. "Your aim is terrible."
"I'm not trying to hit you," Peter retorted, anger coursing through his veins. "Claire is..."
"Dead," Sylar responded plainly, just as if he were telling the time. Peter laughed, ignoring the bile rising in his throat. "Don't believe me?"
"She... you can't kill her. She's..."
"She's special? Not anymore." Nodding downwards, Sylar began to smirk, which quickly became a laugh. "I killed the invincible cheerle..."
Sylar got halfway through the word "cheerleader" when a searing pain enveloped him. Looking around, Sylar tried to pinpoint the source of the fire, realizing too late that it wasn't coming from Peter; it was Peter. Shimmering against the murky sky, Peter had wrapped his body around Sylar and began emitting radiation. Howling in agony, Sylar managed to free himself and shot off into the night.
Exhausted, Peter fell the last fifty feet to the ground, his ankle and left leg snapping and healing almost instantaneously. Taking off in a sprint, Peter reached Claire's crumpled body and immediately turned away and was sick. Her bones were protruding from all angles, her body stained in blood. Falling to his knees next to Claire, Peter grabbed her gingerly and began to shake his head.
"Claire," he said firmly. "Claire, Claire, Claire..." He began to gasp, pulling her into his arms. "No, no, no," he repeated over and over again, subconsciously aware that it was only a matter of time before Sylar was back. "Heal, Claire. Claire, please..." He pressed his fingers to her neck, her wrist, and finally the arch of her foot, desperately searching for a pulse; when he found none, Peter broke down.
Claire was dead.
"So, Peter; scared yet?" Sylar asked, a foot behind him. Placing Claire gently onto the ground, Peter stood and turned, his mind working off pure revenge. Sylar cocked an eyebrow, and smile salaciously.
"You hear it?" Peter asked, as the two men began to circle Claire's body.
"Do I hear what?" Sylar asked, just as he was supposed to. "That sound in your heart?" Peter nodded. "I know that sound well. It's..."
"Murder," Peter launched himself at Sylar, contacting with the man so hard that it broke several bones. Shooting into the sky, Sylar was unable to shake Peter off of him.
"It's useless. You're only going to insult yourself," Sylar screamed as his flesh peeled back; the combination of bone crunching speeds and radiation were doing a number on both of them.
Unspeaking, Peter plunged his hand into Sylar's chest and ripped his heart out without ever breaking the skin. Unaware that he had picked up D.L.'s power, Peter was momentarily stunned as the organ writhed in his hand before turning to sand and slipping between his fingers. Sylar's glassy eyes unfocused and his body went lax enough that Peter could shrug him. Circling back around, Peter swooped down and collected Claire's body, teleporting to New York before Sylar came to.
In a heap on the ground, Mr. Bennet gasped in breaths, attempting to steady his vision without his glasses. Looking around, he saw the bloodied grass where Claire had landed. Standing, he hobbled over to the spot and bent down, trailing his fingers through the puddle. When he righted himself, long golden hair cascaded to his shoulders and his business suit was suddenly several sizes too big.
Crossing her arms over her chest, Claire Bennet grinned smugly and disappeared with a pop.