As always, not mine.

And thank you for reading! I hope you enjoy.

"And you're sure this will work?" Claire looked down over the railing. They were only two floors up and the half hazard stack of wooden pallets she was supposed to aim looked pretty innocuous.

Though the face wasn't his, the smirk was all Sylar. "You think I'd let it fail?"

She shook her head slowly and hooked one foot through the bars of the railing like instructed. "And you've got the camera sorted, right?"

He sighed, impatient. "The lost tourist down there will find his camera inexplicably on and pointing over here in about ten seconds and there's a security camera for that bank pointing over here."

She narrowed her eyes and stretched her neck from side to side. "Well then. I suppose it's show time."

"You might not believe it," said the blue eyed, blonde haired face of the religious nut that tried to snatch her yesterday. "But there isn't even a tiny part of me that's going to enjoy this."

And then he pushed.

She heard the crack as her leg snapped, unable to untangle itself from the metal bars before the weight of her body and the momentum of the push sent her plummeting towards the unseemly pile of wood.

She screamed like she was supposed to, but it wasn't out of fear. It was a wail of retribution and a call for her freedom. The extremists will pay. People will be guilty. And more than anything, they'll be sorry.

Twisting in the air like the cheerleader she had been, she turned to face the pale blue sky. She blinked. Sylar was watching. She pursed her lips and blew him a kiss. In the face of death, this time she was brave.

She was tugged to the right by an invisible hand and she knew it was about to happen.

Smash. Black.

When she coughed, a splinter of wood flew out. "Yuk."

"You probably don't wanna see this then." A middle aged woman with dark hair and darker eyes held up a sharp plank covered in blood and chunks of tissue.

Claire wrinkled her nose before rolling to her side and reaching up to pat the back of her head. Her hair was matted with blood and tangled at the base of her skull.

The kind but weathered face grimaced as it rippled and stretched. Sylar's hands were soft and light as they pushed her shoulder to make her lie flat on her back. She frowned as she tried to sit up, but they were more forceful this time as they shoved her back down.

"Stay still. I've got to set you right." His face was how it was supposed to be, though she was surprised to see the concern that brought creases to his forehead and around his mouth.

"How long was I out?" Her voice was raspy as she coughed again. Thankfully, there were no more splinters.

"Two days. Some people took a bit of convincing." His hands were on her leg, the one that had snapped. The touch was gentle, almost a caress as one drifted to cover her knee and the other just a bit further up than mid-thigh.

"Get a move on." She hoped her ire disguised her shaking breath. She may not be able to feel pain, but what she was feeling right now wasn't what she wanted.

His lip twitched. "As you wish." With more pressure now, fingers digging into flesh, he realigned the bone and watched as the mottled blue and purple that had surrounded the break begin to fade. "That one didn't break the skin, but this one did." He tapped her calf.

She lifted her head as much as she could without using her elbows as leverage and saw a milky white stub poking out just above her ankle. "Huh. It looks like a broken tree branch. You know, one that got snapped."

"Hmm." He looked thoughtful, his brow furrowed as he pressed the bone back into her leg and held it there as it fused back together with its other half. The sickly mess of blues and greens, browns and purples disappeared and her leg was once again its usual creamy pale. "What does it feel like? Now that it doesn't hurt."

She drummed her nails on the table. It wasn't lost on her how strange this conversation was. "It tickles a little, like your arm of leg or whatever is covered in tiny ants." She lifted her leg and let it drop with a clunk on the metal bench. "It feels heavy though, for a while. And obviously some things take longer than others to fix. I have a headache right now that won't shift for a while. Just achy and lethargic I guess. I dunno. Never thought about it really. Focused on what wasn't there than what was."

Sylar nodded, like it was what he expected. He didn't speak and Claire didn't know what to do. It was like he was oblivious to the atmosphere that had swallowed the room.

"Didn't it work?" She didn't know why else he would seem so sad.

He tipped his head to look at her, confused. "Of course it did."

"Oh."
He walked over to the sink, taking a glass out of the cupboard and filled it with water from the sink.

"I don't know if you're supposed to drink that."

He didn't pause for a second. "What's it gonna do, kill you?"

She shrugged as a small smile tugged her lips. She took the glass and took small sips.

Leaning against the bench, Sylar crossed his arms. "The video recordings have been everywhere. The tourist one all over the internet and the footage from the security camera on the news. The guy, whose name is Arnold Ashby by the way, is in custody awaiting his hearing. No bail, I think."

Claire wiggled her toes as the pins and needles began to dissipate. "Arnold Ashby." It was the name of a man who ran a bible group, not a murderer. "Poor guy."

His eyes flashed to hers. "You don't feel sorry for him." It wasn't a question and it wasn't a reprimand.

"No you're right. But still, I probably should." She lifted her arm and rolled her wrist. It clicked. "You're a bad influence on me already."

He didn't smile like she'd hoped, but carried on with the events of the last few days. "Once I'd dropped your head onto the wooden spike, your body shut down. Cracked femur, cracked calf," he was pointing at the various body parts. "Broken vertebrae, another splinter of wood found its way into your side and popped a kidney-"

"And these are the medical terms, I presume."

He shot her a glare. She sat up but was breathless. She hated how long it took to get back to normal. She held out the glass for him to refill it. Which he did.

"We were so thorough they didn't bother taking you into hospital, just straight down here, where this lady filled out the autopsy report." He waved his hand over to the corner, where the dark haired lady was slumped in a plastic chair. "Don't worry, she's sleeping. The undertakers are going to laugh about it good and hard when they see her tomorrow."

"What undertakers?"

"The ones that are taking you to the crematorium." He shook his head like he was disappointed by her powers of deduction. "You can't dig up a pile of ash."

"What's being burnt? There isn't another body, is there?" Fear stabbed her in the chest and her eyes widened.

"Oh for God's sake. Of course there isn't. When you can trick people into believing what you want, why bother with all of that? And when you can forge documents, a paper trail isn't exactly dangerous."

"I didn't know you could do that."

"With the wave of my hand, I can make it so you were a signatory on the Declaration of Independence."

She wrinkled her nose. "Good job I'm not asking you to change history."

"Oh but I have. When we get back you'll find a nice new packet of your history. Birth certificate, medical records, report cards… I bumped you up a few grade points." He winked, but there wasn't the smugness in the gesture she'd come to expect. It was kind of empty.

"New everything? Oh my God." Panic gripped her. She swung her legs over the side of the bench, the cool stainless steel cutting into the backs of her thighs. Her fingers curled into her dirty, matted hair and her breath came in short pants. "Who am I now?"

Sylar was in front of her before she could blink. He lifted her face with his hands, cupping her cheeks like they might crack under too much pressure. "Nothing's changed that matters. Your parents are listed, your sibling is called Lyle, you grew up in Odessa and went to school there. Your name is still Claire Bennet – thought you'd want to keep hold of that one for as long as you could, though you don't have a middle name anymore. It's pretty common so shouldn't cause too many problems." He let his hands drop to his sides. "You'll have to start college again, seeing as you're dead and whatever, but everything is just as it was before. Good old system - swallows you right up."

Claire knotted her fingers together in her lap, over the powder blue cotton tunic they'd put her in, and tried to keep them from trembling.

It was like everything from the last few weeks was dropping on her at once and adrenaline pumped her heart harder than it had ever beat before. Gently, Sylar pushed the top of her back, guiding her head so that her forehead rested on her knees.

"Calm down, Claire bear. Everything's going to be fine."

She snorted. He laughed.

"I don't lie, remember?" He tapped a finger at the back of her neck, before jumping up to sit next to her. She could see where the too-short trousers didn't cover his ankles. He was pale, not like her, he had an olive tone to his skin. The blue of his veins showed through in sharp contrast to the black of his socks.

"Wanna hear what the others think?"

She took a deep breath and unlocked her fingers, moving her hands so her palms were flat on the bench and her fingers curled over the edge, gripping tightly. There was something calming about the cool smoothness. Slowly she straightened her back, breathing deeply but keeping her eyes focused on her knees. She nodded.

"Well, I don't actually know for sure. Peter's been fielding the calls and keeping them away. He's been extremely helpful, you know, especially towards someone who's about to kill his niece."

"I think it's what Angela called him for the other day." Her voice was quiet but level. She gripped the table tighter. She saw his shrug out of the corner of her eye. His legs started swinging.

"Probably. But your family know you're fine. Your Momma isn't exactly overjoyed with Daddy-Noah, what with this being his fault and all, but I don't think she knows it's me that's been helping you."

Claire shook her head slightly, lifting her chin. She was still a little dizzy, but not too bad. Her heart was slowing down and she couldn't hear it in her ears any more. "She hasn't been happy with him for years. And I doubt Peter would have thought it was a good idea."

"No siree. Parkman's on his way here since Molly couldn't find you – what with you being out of it for the last two days, and a few of the carnies have showed up. Our mutual friend Lydia for one." He scratched his forearm absent mindedly. Hiro has a soft spot for you and has been sending Ando every few hours to hassle Pete. It's pretty funny."

She looked up at him, almost scared of the answer to her next question. "And my dad?"

Sylar rubbed his stubble and his mouth shifted into a sour grin. "Noah knows alright. He knows all of it."

"And?" She was turned to him fully now, eyes wide and expectant. She felt something pop in her hand and relaxed her hold on the bench.

"And he's not happy. In the slightest."

Claire swallowed. "Where is he?"

"Last I heard he was at the apartment, but it wouldn't surprise me if he's on his way here now. I was listening to the radio before you woke up," he nodded to the small green radio sat on a stack of books on the shelf. "And they've said which coroner's office you were being held."

"We have to go." She jumped off the bench and immediately regretted it. Her head span and she nearly lost her balance.

Sylar held out an arm to steady her, holding her shoulder. "There's no rush. It's not like he can barge his way in here. Dead bodies have more security than living ones."

She turned and looked at him properly. The circles under his eyes were dark, like he hadn't slept in the two days she'd been out. But there was also apprehension there, and uncertainty. Like he wasn't in control and didn't like it. Didn't know what to do about it.

Lifting her hand, she held it on his forearm. His fingers tightened around her shoulder. "Look, we can't stay here forever. For one thing, I'm hungry. Regenerating this much bone and tissue isn't easy. Secondly, my dad will get in here. Doors and security guards don't stop him from doing anything, especially if those security guards are the regular kind." She gave him a frank look, but softened her voice. "Hiding from problems don't make them go away. And like you said, Peter's been helping you, so that's something."

"He's the kinda guy that gets on with things he can't change." Sylar lifted an eyebrow. "When he sees you strolling around, there's no telling what he'll do."

She let go of his arm and took a few steps back. "Are you kidding? He can't do anything. What power does he have now anyway?"

"Emma's been there constantly and he keeps picking her powers up by accident."

Claire laughed and tried not to think how it was that he kept getting her ability. She knew there had to be skin contact. "So he's a siren that can see colours. I'm not scared."

"Claire." There was frustration in his tone and surprisingly, it seemed like he was pleading with her.

Sylar's shoulder were slumped and he was staring at the floor. Sympathy welled up inside her chest. He didn't want to do anything else to upset Peter. Eight years of friendship and understanding weren't to be trifled with. Especially when you didn't have anyone else to turn to.

No matter what people said, it wasn't easy to pick up and start afresh.

"Don't worry, I'll stick up for you." She smiled. It grew wider at his expression of disbelief. That must have been worrying him too – what would happen when she woke up. "Now tell me you brought me some clothes."

His answering smile was wry. "I knew there was something I'd forgotten." He slid off of the bench with his enviable grace and strode over to the coroner. He took the cardigan from her shoulders and threw it to Claire.

It was thick, wooly and grey. It smelt like expensive perfume and cigarettes. And it thankfully dropped to her knees.

"So how do we get out of this joint?" She said, doing up the buttons to cover the ugly blue tunic. There was nothing she could do about her bloody hair, but they seemed to have cleaned off the blood and dirt from her skin.

"The door to the garage is just out there, then you have a choice of a piggy back or standing on my feet."

"And we're flying back to the apartment, right?" It wasn't like she could go back to her hotel room. And her dorm room was definitely out of the question. She would be buying a lot of new stuff, it seemed.

"Yep. Nowhere else really, unless you want to pop into the Petrelli mansion?"

She shuddered.

Sylar had frozen in place, head tilted towards the ceiling and a scowl across his face. "Noah's here."

"Told you he wouldn't wait." She yelped as he grabbed her hand and yanked her towards the door, which flew open then shut with a click and she heard the locks snap into place.

"Don't worry, she's about to wake up," he said as they turned down a corridor. "And will be annoyed when she realizes she forgot her cardigan at home. Gets cold down here."

They ran through the garage, past the hearses and vans. They didn't stop when they got outside. He wrapped his arms around her waist and they shot up into the sky.

"Thank you," she said as she turned to press her cheek to his chest, trying to get as comfortable as possible for ride. Trying to alleviate the pressure of his arms digging into her back and sides, she wrapped her arms around his waist.

He held her tighter.

They were silent as they flew over New York, the night air crisp but warm. She recognized where they were and knew it would only be a few more minutes before they landed on Peter's rooftop.

"Sylar?" Her voice was barely a whisper but she knew he would hear her.

"Yes?"

"I'm tired."

It took him a moment to answer. "Me too."

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