A/N: more sylaire romance! sorta.

Sylar groggily opened his eyes, the feeling of drugs making his brain foggy and unusable, so it was a few minutes before he realized what his situation was.

He was in a cell. Yup, there was definitely no mistaking the plain gray walls and bullet-proof glass window. He was entirely too familiar with this situation, although he had managed to elude it for at least the past hundred years or so. Crap. Another company.

"Wondered when you would wake up," said a vaguely recognizable voice. Sylar's head snapped up. He squinted to get a better view of who it was in the cell across the hall that had spoken.

"Claire?" She nodded.

"No shit, Sherlock." Sylar stood up, wandering over to the window.

"I-what're you doing here?"

"Having tea. What does it look like I'm doing here? God, you got slow in the past hundred years." Sylar's eyes narrowed. If he got slow, Claire got nasty.

"I'm just surprised to see you."

"Fucking fantastic."

"You dyed your hair? I almost didn't recognize you." Claire smirked.

"That's kind of the point, isn't it?" Sylar shrugged.

"Well Claire, you're a far cry from when I first met you."

"No. I look exactly the same," Claire replied bitterly.

"So do I," Sylar countered.

"Yeah, but you've changed."

"So have you."

A silence followed. Feeling awkward, Sylar ran a hand through his own hair, then realized something was not right up there.

"Fuck." Claire shot him a questioning look. "My hair," Sylar explained. "It's…they cut it?" Claire nodded.

"When they brought you in. I watched." Sylar groaned.

"Why do companies always do that to me?"

"Well, it looked like you hadn't cut it in like…forever. Where have you been living, under a rock?" Sylar sighed.

"Basically."

"Well you've been making great use of your time. You know I'm really glad you sliced my head open so you could spend eternity doing absolutely nothing. That really makes it all worth it." Claire's voice stung Sylar with all the sarcasm.

"Well you've been faring much better, I see, spending the rest of forever stuck in a teenage rebellion."

"I'm NOT a teenager."

"And yet, Claire, after a hundred years of immortality, you still act like one."

"Well maybe it hasn't been so easy for me, watching everyone I love die. But oh yeah! You wouldn't know anything about that because the only person you've ever loved is yourself!"

"I loved you," Sylar replied quietly. Claire was silent for a moment. Sylar briefly thought what he had said had affected her, pierced the shell of the numb person she had become. But Claire only responded,

"Yeah well I can't die. And anyway, that's not true." Sylar frowned. Maybe she was right. That probably was not true. But it could have been. If Claire had ever given him a chance, he could have loved her. He remembered something he had said to her way back when Peter and Nathan and Noah and Mr. Muggles had all been still alive. "Maybe you'll even love me." Well, he had been wrong then. He had been wrong about a lot of things then. That was when he thought he was going to be president.

"What happened to you, Claire?"

"A lot of shit, that's what," Claire replied coldly. "What happened to you? Killing's lost its wonderful charm?"

"Yeah I guess," Sylar mumbled.

"Well I am so fucking happy for you." Claire rolled her eyes. "God I need to get out of here!" Claire banged on the glass.

"It's no use, Claire-bear."

"DON'T CALL ME THAT!" Claire cried, hitting the glass with her hands. Sylar blinked. There was something familiar about this new Claire. He couldn't put his finger on it.

"Sorry," he murmured, "It's just, I don't think it will do any good. There's no getting out of here."

"Oh I'm getting out of here," Claire assured him. "And when I do, I'm going kill every one who dared to put me in this hellhole." Oh yeah, that's was it. Claire reminded him of his old self. Well that was…unexpected.

"Fine," Sylar sighed, "I'll help you." Claire smirked.

"You? How are you gonna help?" Sylar flicked his fingers and the glass in both their cells shattered. Claire stood in awe.

"You-they didn't block your powers?" Sylar shrugged.

"Beginner's folly. This new company has a lot to learn." He stepped through the broken glass and walked across the hall to Claire's cell, offering his hand to her. "Need a hand?" Claire accepted and Sylar pulled her out of the cell. Side by side, they walked down the hallway and found an exit.

Stepping out into the sunlight, they celebrated their freedom with small smiles. "So I guess this is goodbye," Sylar sighed.

"Thanks for springing me," Claire mumbled halfheartedly.

"Any time."

"So. Back to living under a rock for the next hundred years?" Sylar shook his head.

"Nope."

"So what are you gonna do?"

"Well," Sylar said, pausing thoughtfully. "I think I'll become president." Claire raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, good luck with that." Claire meant to be sarcastic, but Sylar decided to take it as an actually wish for good fortune.

"Thanks," he said genuinely. Claire gave him an odd look, and then took off. Sylar watched her leave, hoping it wouldn't be a hundred years before he saw the cheerleader again. Maybe she'd be his first lady…if he was lucky. Sylar felt like he had been given a second chance. And this time around he was going to do things right. He was going to make the world a better place.