I read the spoiler over and over again—you know the one. I can't help but let it settle into my mind. And I wonder…will they really do it? Will they really put them together? What's going to happen? Gah, I love Heroes.

I kept the title of Monday's show because I found a way to tie it in but keep in mind that this is only my thought of what could happen. Though there are MAJOR SPOILERS included, they are some my imagination, some fact. Here's a little scenario that I keep seeing in my head…Please leave some comments!

Invisible Thread

Claire stood in silence and looked out the large window onto the world below. The people moved around out there, busily making their path toward work and home, as if it was all that matter. She longed for that luxury—to be careless, have no worries. That was all she could do, worry. She sat in this fancy room in the White House, the one that both of her fathers and Peter locked her in, and waited for Peter and Nathan so she wouldn't have to worry anymore. It all had to end. She was tired of fighting it. There was a noise from behind her and she said Peter's name as she turned around.

She stared at the man, tall, dark hair, a grey shirt. She took him in but her reaction was slow to register. It's like in a horror movie, when the girl stood face-to-face with the killer and didn't realize she could scream until she was dead. It was just like that scene, but it was life. Her life. She didn't have to scream; he couldn't really kill her after all.

"Hello, Claire," he said. "It's been…a while."

Claire started to run but he lifted his finger and stopped her from moving.

"Sylar let me go."

"Don't run, Claire. I just came to talk to you." He held up a bottle of wine. "We have some things to discuss. We can't do that if you run. Not that you can get out of this room."

He dropped his hand. He met her stare and walked to the couch. He opened the bottle and sat it on the table beside him. She stood, frozen in the center of the room. The liquid hitting the glass echoed in the silence. He poured another glass and took a sip of the one in his hand. He asked her to sit down. "Be civil," he said. "I'm a guest."

"Well, you weren't invited."

Sylar held the glass toward her. "I brought Merlot. It's your favorite, isn't it? It's '59. I think it's the best year."

Claire moved toward him and sat in the white chair to his right. He smiled when she took the glass. "What do you want, Sylar?"

He shook his head, told her try the wine. She sipped it, her eyes on him. "It is good," she said softly, almost afraid to admit it.

"I've been thinking, Claire, about what I want my life to be like," he said.

She looked at him. "Life? You think that you deserve a life?"

Sylar laughed and moved through the room, toward the window then back around to Claire in silence. She wanted to run while his back was turned but she couldn't. She couldn't out of fear, out of curiosity.

He sat back down where he was before. "Have you ever stopped to think how much we have in common, Claire?"

She looked at him. "We have nothing in common."

"That's not true," he said. "We like the same wine; we run in the same circles. We were both betrayed our father. We're both killers."

"I'm not a killer," she said.

"Not intentionally," he said. He looked at her. "But a life is a life, no matter how we choose to take it. We both want to be special, understood. We always felt like there was more; no one could ever understood us. No one else knew how we felt. Now there is. I have you, Claire. You have me."

He watched her reaction, watched her squirm in her seat. He sipped his wine while she processed his words.

She felt sick, like she wanted to vomit all over him. "I don't need you," she said.

" You do, because you and I, we're the same—even if you don't want to see it. We have this connection, this invisible thread that links us together. We can try to cut it, separate, but we always get back to each other," Sylar said.

Claire couldn't move, couldn't speak, and could barely breathe. She felt like she was in some alternate reality, like all of this wasn't really happening. Sylar wasn't trying to have a conversation with her about some connection; he was trying to drive her crazy, to kill her slowly. He was playing with her but she wasn't sure why.

"I've been thinking about my life," he said. "Can you imagine what this world will be like in a hundred years? In two hundred years?" He moved around the room as he talked to her. She took in every word he said, watched every step he took.

"Everyone you love Claire, they will be gone. Daddy dearest, bio-dad, Lyle, dear Sandra, your grandmother, little brothers—even Peter. Not one person you know will be alive while you walk around this earth. No one, Claire," he said. He was so close that she could feel his breath on her cheek.

He was right. They would all be dead. She would have to watch them all die, bury them all. She'd be alone. She always thought that Peter would be with her, ever since she talked to him in the police station, but that was before his father. He would die to. A tear fell down her cheek. Sylar wiped it away before it fell off her chin. It was the same way Peter had once done it.

"You won't be completely alone. I'll be here with you, alive. That invisible thread will keep us together. We're destined to be together for eternity, Claire," he said. He looked at her from where he was sitting, on her left side of the chair. He lifted his hand and moved a piece of her blonde hair behind her ear. It was familiar and the emotion made her inhale with a stifled breath.

"Marry me, Claire."

She snapped up to look at him. His brown eyes were focused on her, filled with anticipation, like he thought she'd say yes. "What?" She jumped up from the chair and he stood up, too.

"Marry me. We're meant to be together."

She just stared at him. Then she laughed. She laughed and she couldn't stop laughing, even when he yelled her name. He grabbed her by the shoulders and she stopped, pierced him with her eyes.

"You really are crazy. I would rather die, rather be tortured for science experiments than marry you. I hate you. Hate you. You are a monster and you disgust me."

"I'm a monster?" His voice was calm as he spoke to her. "You are a monster, Claire. You tried to kill a boy when you were in high school, or have you forgotten? Brody, I think it was. Your entire family is a new breed of monsters. We are the same. If I'm a monster, what are you?"

He searched her; she believed him. She had to, of course, because he was right. The Petrelli's, the Bennett's, both were evil in their own ways. She was both. Maybe she was doubly evil.

"I don't love you, I don't even like you! Why would I marry you?" Claire asked.

Sylar looked at her. "You will come to love me, Claire. I can never die and you can never die. You can't deny that's destiny."

"Destiny?" she yelled. "You chased me down in my house and cut my head open. That's why you can't die. That's not destiny—that's you. And you are crazy. I could never marry someone who hates my entire family."

"No," he said, "it is destiny that made us who we are—even when we take action. Everything is laid out in advance. We are one of those things." He tried to touch her hair again and she jumped away. "You will love me, Claire. I know it."

Claire turned away and looked out of one of the windows. He watched her from behind. "If you seek out my family and kill, I'll never love you." His face changed. She could see the change in his reflection. "Promise me," she said. "If you really believe this you will promise me." She turned toward him again, looked at him.

He nodded. "I don't make promises."

There was a noise, a loud thump, and the main doors to the locked room were opened. Peter and Nathan stood in the doorway, still wearing the black clothes from the desert. Nathan yelled her name when he saw Sylar's hand on her. He dropped his hands.

"Run Claire," Peter yelled. "Get out of here."

"Yes, Claire. We don't want any accidents," Sylar said. He smiled at her when she glanced at him again before running out the opened door.

Peter and Nathan looked at each other and flew toward Sylar. A blue flame came out of his hands and he threw it toward the men. They landed on the ground. "Oh, Claire is going to be so mad at me."

He pointed his finger and closed the door before a battle ensued. The blue electricity and the screams filled the room. They didn't notice the eye that peeked in through the crack in the door.


It was only minutes later, but it felt like hours. Claire went quietly into the room. Peter stood by the window, looking out at the people below. Claire moved beside him.

"They have no worries at all," he said, "not a care and the world."

Claire nodded. She didn't say anything; she didn't know what to say. She touched his cheek, the blood that dripped down the side.

"Sylar wants to marry you," Peter said. "He said it like it was the most normal, most expected statement ever said."

Claire busied herself with Peter's wound. He grabbed her wrist. "Did you tell him yes?"

"No," she said.

"Then why didn't he kill us?" Peter asked. Claire and Peter locked eyes. "He's right, you know. You and him are going to live forever; you're the only ones."

Claire sighed.

"I'm sorry," Peter said before he moved away from her.

Claire threw the washcloth on the floor. "What's next?" she asked.

Peter stopped and looked at her. "Redemption," he said. She grabbed his hand as they looked out the window. Every other thought left her mind, except for the hope that she could be normal again. The thread seemed like it should break, but it didn't.


A/N: The ending: I wanted to set up for season 4. I didn't state whether Nathan died. I know it's a huge rumor going on right now but I'm not going to support it b/c i think he's just getting interesting again. I don't want him to die. But, he's not here, so maybe (if you want that) it could happen.

Please leave some feedback!