This story was originally posted on my tumblr. Prompted by the Sylairecommittee (also on tumblr) with the episode Angels and Monsters. Really the only connection between that episode and this story is the time line. The rest of the story will be heavier on Sylaire interaction. One more thing, I have no idea where everything is supposed to be stationed so I just moved them to the Odessa branch.
It was the deliberate silence surrounding her that caught her attention.
Initially, she'd assumed it was the same old story, the same shebang her dad always preached. Adult decisions weren't for her. The fact that her potential usefulness was being wasted didn't matter because she was kept safe from all the things that couldn't hurt her anyway. Initially, she'd missed any sign of development.
Then it became worse. Her family, all of them; father, grandmother, uncle, all of them, knew something that she didn't. And while they talked in hushed whispers and threats at everyone below them, she was still left out of the loop. It was frustrating on more than one level. Even when she wasn't snooping (an admitted fault she had picked up of late), the secret hung over her like some insatiable craving.
Angela, now the leader, invited her to the office every week to assure her that exactly nothing was going on. Of course this meant that everything was going on, and they had simply decided to leave her out of it.
Claire was a half lucky girl. As top secret as the organization claimed to be, their workers were some of the largest blabber mouths she'd ever encountered. It was ridiculous, and in truth, something to be worried about. She hardly had to try with the men. Everyone was eager to impress the boss, and by extension the kin of the boss. With the wrong assumption that Claire would carry on news of all their achievements (most of which she could do with her eyes closed, by the way), she was given the weekly assignment dish. The dish on everything except for what she wanted to know. That was a no zone, and even the worst agent knew no points would be earned for blabbing about that.
"Nothing's going on, dear, we're all just recuperating from the last bust," were Angela's words, and really, she wasn't even trying anymore. Clear as day, it meant her father wanted her nose out of the fire. Apparently he preferred Sylar's company. (As if things weren't bad enough, that nonsense wouldn't stop nagging her either).
Tough. Claire was above that, she was ready to use her ability for good, and she was tired of sitting around. There was a new sign of activity, a big superhero bar fight. Whoever the hell sparked the commotion was certainly making sure they saw, and simultaneously remained as clueless as possible. She'd also realized, only too conveniently, that Noah Bennet was the head of the expedition. It was as that piece of information clicked that Claire knew they really weren't willing to involve her. Ever.
She reprized the decision that if they weren't going to take her on willingly, well… She'd take it into her own hands again.
Sort of.
Claire smiled at her grandmother, sharp and biting, before pivoting and marching away. Thanks for nothing, the gesture expressed, but you're not playing me as a fool. Claire headed to the Primatech parking garage.
Her dad was the head of the investigation? She had the spare key to his car. That made it all the easier to participate in that which was out of bounds. Again, she was going to do this, degrading or not.
On the bright side, the trunk of her Dad's car was one of the roomie ones. On the sad, outlandish side, she was cramming herself into a trunk. Claire huffed a breath under her nose, while slamming the passenger door closed. Great, middle of the day, Texas. She was going to have a heat stroke, come back to life, then have a heat stroke all anew. None of this would be necessary if her self-righteous family had deemed her helpful enough for the real world. Claire continued her investigation of the car body, and crawled in a less graceful lump over the last seat barrier. Finally where she needed to be, she settled back against one side, knees bent just enough to keep out of sight of the rear view mirror. Sweat beaded all over.
Not long, she told herself. The mission was supposed to commence at three, and.. Claire checked her phone… Her dad was ten minutes late. He was never late, especially for these cases. She stewed a bit longer thinking it over. There was a chance she'd been fed false information- or maybe the charge had been rescheduled to another day? That didn't seem right…
Enough was enough. Abandoning the plan wouldn't be that big of an ego blow if no one knew she'd attempted it in the first place. She was going to go home, and shower away the stupidity of-
Claire felt a jerk, and the car door opened with a hanging click. Her dad. He'd really had just been late. She smiled to herself and sunk even lower. Proving everyone wrong would make it all worth it in the end.
The car began its backing, and after a moment of uncomfortable silence (she was trying to breath as quietly as possible) the radio flipped on masking her even more. Claire frowned, it seemed too casual a move for a man like her father, especially when preping an attack on a potentially life threatening gang. Perhaps it was some secret pre-mission ritual, mental justification or not, she wouldn't let it bother her.
The car brightened, and through a triangular window peaking from between the seats Claire was introduced to blue skies, the exit of the parking deck. Some time later, the car trudged down a highway (probably, she could only judge by the smoothness of the road), not even regeneration could save her from the building stiffness in her legs. She wondered how far away this lead was located.
Even later, much, much later, Claire's head felt like it was going to explode. Sweat pealed down her face, and she grew more and more impatient with her Dad's choice in radio station. The seventies really weren't that great.
It felt like the entire day was ticking away, and she was still stuffed in the back of a car. Trying to avoid moving too much she'd resisted the urge till then, but now.. Claire finally checked the clock of her phone. Two hours had passed since their lift off from Primatech. Two entire hour of insufferable musical cliches, cramped space, and minimal (meaning none) air condition flow. She needed a check up, even with the risk of notice.
Slowly, very slowly, she unfolded her legs. Even slower she pushed up just enough to peak over the edge of the seat, and at the driver.
Claire's blood ran cold. It wasn't her dad sitting at the wheel. It was her dad's partner.
Holding back any sound or emotion, she ducked again. He hadn't seen her, thankfully, but she'd seen him. The same stupid company issue suit, the same sharp angles of his profile, the same coal blackened eyes shinning away from her in the mirror. Even worse than getting stuck in this position, she hated her inevitable reaction. Her emotions left her open to manipulation. She closed her eyes, taking a moment to recuperate, to will the logic back again.
Bad didn't even begin to cover it and- and fuck reform whatever that was supposed to mean. They were beyond trust, she didn't believe a word he said, and now she was stashed away in the trunk of a car with him casually driving her away. Her eyes tightened, and brows furrowed. What had she gotten herself into?
One breath, he didn't know she was there. Two breaths, he couldn't hurt her. Three breaths, this was her opportunity to take him out. Once and for all.
Claire readied herself, she needed to focus, she needed… awareness. For that, the green road sides flashing above were perfect. All she had to do was sit up for a second longer.
Three, two, one, go.
Her movements were swift as she captured the edge of the seat in a hold and pulled higher. She glanced at him first, once assured he was looking in the other direction she switched focus.
Not a single sign in view, half lucky suddenly felt a lot like not lucky at all.
Check up time, her eyes twitched back to the mirror right as his dark and soulless flicked away, meaning- Claire's innards jerked. He'd seen her. In the moment it was a 'he can't see me if I can't see him' philosophy that made the most sense, She propelled herself away from the seat, then down into the trunk.
Shit, shit, shit, shit.
Claire waited for him to talk, to fight, to anything, but… There was nothing except for the perpetual buzzing of the radio. Perhaps it had been a trick of the light, he hadn't seen her after all… It wasn't completely impossible.
As if waiting for her calm to settle, the car dipped, a bump, a big bump. Claire's face smacked into the hard plastic of the seat coat, "Ack-", then up they went out of the pothole, into the air. Claire was spurred out right along with it. Nothing subtle in the way she bounced over the cover of the seat, and it to air, hair spanning out in every direction like a golden hallow of doom. She yelped, eyed the corner of his face to see his lips pull up. The bastard was smiling.
Her jig flew up just as she came down, crashing back into the floor, and twisting with the sharp screech of the breaks. The radio finally shut off, replaced by the wind of other cars as they continued to zoom past, then a door opened, and the trunk was pulled up, revealing him as he loomed over her, one arm braced against the edge of the metal.
Claire glared at his stupidly expressionless face. Expressionless, and some how calculating at the same time
"Really Claire, if you needed a ride all you had to do was ask."