Disclaimer: You know the drill. I don't own Heroes or its characters, and after finally seeing Zachary Quinto's smokin' hot body, I'm okay with that.
The ink still burned in his arm, from where it had carved her face into his skin. Lydia's power gave him the ability to know exactly what others wanted, but Samuel's ink told him what he wanted. But what he wanted was power, not…her.
When he'd seen her face on his skin, there had been a flicker—something like a spark. He probably would have called it a flare in his soul, if he'd had one. It wasn't so much of a warming feeling as it was a twitch…a spark, a longing of something that might be—could be.
But that was insane.
The great Sylar did not long for anything, least of all that girl. But…even he had to admit that remembering Hiro Nakamura's words to him that day did cause him…unease. It wasn't something he liked to feel often, but he knew it was there now, curled in his gut like an infectious bacteria. He was uneasy. He was insecure about something.
He suspected it was partially due to Senator Nathan Petrelli's recent and most tragic death. It was idiotic to suggest that he, Sylar, felt guilt for killing the senator's soul—for it wasn't Nathan's body, anyway!—but Sylar had noticed a change after Nathan's death. Perhaps the senator wasn't really gone. Perhaps something—anything—had remained in Sylar's body. After all, it hadn't been his own for six whole weeks.
That had to be it. That also had to be why Claire's face was etched into his forearm. She meant nothing to him, but had meant something to Petrelli…which Sylar couldn't understand, in the first place. The egotistical senator hadn't even acknowledged her as his daughter. He'd simply cast her aside for his political benefit, and when the time was right for him, he'd flown in to be her White Knight and whisked her down to Mexico to hide out. And then he'd tried to be the hero—and had gotten himself killed.
It was all very amusing to Sylar, but…why had he gotten so protective of Claire in the past few seconds…?
Sylar shook his head and floated back to stand on the branch of the tree he was hiding in. He slid down into a sitting position and held his head in his hands.
For a moment…just for a moment…he entertained the thought that the infectious bacteria in his gut had somehow planted into his mind. What if he did desire a companion? Someone he wouldn't—or couldn't—kill. Someone who wouldn't be adverse to the idea of spending an eternity with a man who didn't age.
It was actually a nice idea. It was something he'd almost wanted in Elle, before he'd killed her. He had realized, in the moment she had to sit down on the beach with her wounded leg after being teleported by Hiro Nakamura, that Elle was oh-so fragile. Her personality was everything Sylar could have hoped for, but in the end, in her own way, Elle was even more damaged than he was.
Now, that wasn't to say that Claire Bennet wasn't damaged, Sylar knew that, but it was her immortality that intrigued him. She was the only person that Sylar knew of that he could never kill. And as he sat there on the tree branch, Sylar realized that he was truly and honestly attracted to Claire Bennet, for all the practical and impractical reasons that a man would be attracted to a woman. Or, more accurately, why a serial killer would be attracted to a victim that couldn't die.
And it was because of those reasons that Sylar stood from the tree and rapped on Claire Bennet's window.
A/N: So...I'm not sure if I should continue this one. I really like where it's going, and it's amazing that I was able to write this at 3:20 in the morning, and actually end up liking it. But yeah, after seeing the episodes last night, I just had to write. If you guys have input, send in a review. Thanks for reading!
~Shade