Here we go, leaving off where we left at Chapter One:
Read Away....
"So, always call Pete so late at night?" Sylar asked, Claire immobilized in front of him. He rather liked having this puppeteering ability, so handy sometimes. He knew the use of Peter's name so casually would drive her insane. Oddly, he was used to it. Yes, he had been Nathan Petrelli for many years now. Yes, he'd almost kissed her about 20 minutes ago. Getting her to be his victim was simple. It hadn't taken much struggle, barely any at all, the game was more fun this way, testing, teasing her and now she sat in front of him, completely motionless, unless he choose other wise.
"No, special occasion" she breathed through her tightened mouth.
"right, you're mother. My mother died too. I killed her. And Peter's mother too" her eye twitched at this comment.
"i know you hate me now Claire, but think about it. You won't always. And one day, It'll just be you and me, ageless, against all odds, and you'll long for something familiar" he cooed, and she only kept staring because she was forced.
"Peter will be there too" she countered
"I said familiar, not familial" he whispered, a slight smile playing at his lips, devilish, evil and he knew he was driving her insane, but it was fun.
"No Sylar" She choked out the words and he shook his head, mockingly.
"Well Claire, if you're not gonna say something nice, don't say anything at all" and with a hand, her mouth was shut.
"now, where were we when Peter so rudely interrupted us?" he asked
She murmured, trying to make noise, but knew it was no use.
"Well, Claire?" he asked " I could've sworn you were about to kiss me" the word kiss echoed, a tear falling down her cheek, though she couldn't move.
"Now Claire! Don't cry. I'm here for you. I am, I'll take care of you" he came over to her, sitting beside her now. He wiped the tear from her cheek, his gaze lingering on her lips.
"Now Claire, cry, I'm here to console you on your loss" He unbound her lips, waiting for a response. He turned away from her now, facing the kitchen, his eyes clouding over.
"your mother loved you, didn't she?" he asked and she murmured a yes.
"You're lucky then" he responded, his voice soft.
"lucky? she's dead"
"don't get so mad Claire, It's not like I killed her" he responded, playfulness in his voice
"surprise there" she said, monotone
"I know you think I'm a monster, but we're the same Claire"
"NO" she said, rather forcefully.
"I'd never harm you...well, that's not entirely true" he paused, a deep smile on his lips, then it faded just as quickly and he continued "but not emotionally, not on purpose. I care for you, I don't want to force you to do anything. I think it would be best if you called Peter and told him of the situation, we don't want him getting on the next plane recklessly, now do we, Claire?"
"He'll be here soon" she murmured, trying not to listen to his words. He reached for the phone and held if out for her, but she didn't even glance at it.
"i can always call, pretending to be you" he whispered
"Peter knows better" she shot back
"Peter thinks I'm dead"
"He'll be here soon" she reassured again and he grew tired of it, not caring, for, he'd enjoy a nice battle, for old times sake. He used his mind to put the phone back in place and then resumed his conversation, looking ahead and not at her.
"I admire you Claire, your confidence. You're strength really is inspiring. I was always weak you know"
"really? thought you just prayed on them" she retorted
"Claire, I know you hate me. I can't forgive myself for what I've done. None of you understand, It's my power, made me a killer. I have this ability, to see how things work, but it comes with a hunger, Claire, a need to have those abilities"
"your just trying to justify your actions"
"maybe I am" he whispered, moving farther away from her on the couch. "But you're not trying to understand me, I don't want to do this. I know you'll never love me, no one ever has. Peter's the one with all the attention, the hero" the word hero, had never sounded so malicious, she speculated.
"and I'll always be the bad guy, in the shadows. I never get the pat on the back, the encouraging smile, the loving family. I get trickery and hate and fear. And I'm not gonna lie and say I don't enjoy it, I've learned to. But I'm sorry, I really am, that you'll never see who I was before, who I really am. Sometimes, I wish I never had powers, abilities, I'd be clear of all of this, no hunger, no yearning, just myself again, but then I'd never be anyone special" Sylar was frightened of how much he was revealing to the girl, but part of him kept going, kept talking, couldn't stop, wanting to pour out his soul to someone who would listen, someone alive who knew what he was beneath the murderer.
She didn't know why, but she found herself growing with compassion towards him and hated herself for it. The night was wearing on but it seemed Sylar did not want to torment her physically, which was good. She knew she would have to waste time, to still be sane when Peter arrived. She decided to grow affectionate for him, maybe keep him ranting about his own horrible past.
"So interesting, your life" the lie left her lips, he looked up suddenly, but she couldn't read his expression.
"I can tell when people lie, Claire. It's quite handy, really" he whispered, menace in his voice. She tried to find a way, her mind was racing, how could she fight her biggest demon without moving?
"Claire, Peter won't come to save you" Sylar spoke plainly now and she looked up and decided to humor him.
"And why's that?" she asked, wondering if Sylar had endangered her only escape.
"you don't want to be saved" he spoke back and tried to shake her head, to no avail.
"That's a lie" she responded and he chuckled lightly, standing up and facing her, leaning against the kitchen counter. A coffee table and little carpet filled the space between them now. He leaned casually, as if it was a pleasant banter or mild flirting that their conversation contained. His hands were in his pockets, his blue collared shirt rolled up to his sleeves. His hair was spiked in a fashion he doted lately, mostly due to spare time. His black jeans shone in the light, and he crossed his legs casually, enjoying their conversation.
"Claire, I'm not the bad guy. I kill all the bad guys. Arthur Petrelli, Puppet guy, Denko-" she cut him off.
"-and then you become the worst one" she countered and his expression lost it's good humor.
"Claire- Bear, be kind, try to understand" he said, almost a whisper, but she still heard every word.
"Don't call me that, Gabriel" she whispered back, a blow to his mind and suddenly all was lost.
"I AM NOT!------" he shouted his voice rising, he was unable to say it, the identity he had once been and stopped short. He took in two sharp breaths and though the anger was still there, his volume was not as great. "how do you even know that name?" he asked, his mind reeling, had Peter known? Nathan? Angela?
"Did Angela tell you?" He asked and she would smile, if she could.
"No" she whispered "Elle did" It was a lie for sure, and Angela had told her and he felt the immediate detecting vibrations.
"You're lying" he snapped back.
"Maybe, but you're thinking about Elle now" she responded and it hit him hard, he had been and he was forcing her out of his mind now, but it made it worse. And then, something incredible happened, that Claire's dream always magnified. Sylar fell down, letting his back slide against the kitchen counter till he reached the floor. He leaned against the counter, sitting on the floor, feet sprawled out in front of him. He was in his own world now, but she couldn't tell. Trying desperately not to show the sadness he felt within him. His mind was reeling memories, all unpleasant. First Elle clouded his thoughts, then the company, his electricity, their connection, the eclipse, their passion, her death. One unpleasant memory stirred up thousands, but he wouldn't let a single tear fall in front of Claire Bennet, not on his life. He sniffled- or at least she thought he had and straightened up, but made no effort to move from the floor, his eyes cast down, his expression desolate. Time passed, she was forced still, watching him, wondering what he was thinking, why he was so distant. Had she caused this? She was so focused on him, she didn't seem to notice the sun rise behind her, the rays bathing the apartment in a warm, glowing light. Yet, as time drifted on, nothing was said and he was still staring at the ground, tormented with his own thoughts.
She wanted to speak his name, to ironically offer him comfort, though her mother dying and one phone call had all started this. The name Sylar tormented her, and she knew he hated Gabriel. She wanted something more personal, something he'd react to, like a nickname, a term of endearment, much as she hated the thought. Her mind kept racing for anything. She wondered what Elle had called him, but shied away from mentioning her again, scared of Elle's impact on Sylar, such a change she had caused.
"You're not a monster" she whispered and he looked up, his glazed over eyes meeting hers over the coffee table.
"How do you know?" he whispered, clearly in his self loathing stage now. His voice sounded strange now, having not spoken for so long. The sun shone on part of his face, a brilliant glow exuding from that side. It suited him, she thought, he looked human.
"your past? your power, you're forced into it. You can be a good person" she whispered, wondering if this would enrage him. From where he sat, she was just a silhouette, the sun blinding him through the open window.
He stood up quickly, scaring her with his sudden movement and began pacing instantly. Walking back and forth shadow and light, where the sun's rays fell onto the carpet through the window.
He should leave, he knew, but he wanted to fight Peter. Little had happened in his life lately that had been exciting, but fighting Peter would be fun, and he did deserve it, Sylar speculated. He had killed his mother, killed his brother, pretended to be his brother for years and now had 'attacked' Claire in the middle of the night. Peter deserved a fight with him, and Sylar couldn't deprive him that.
"You should go" he said suddenly and she looked up, confused.
"What?" she asked
"I'll let you go" he said
"No you won't"
"Why, do you want to stay?" he asked, his eyebrow moving with his words.
"NO!" it wasn't a lie, that he knew.
"I'll let you go, I want to fight Peter, it'll be" he paused, looking for the word "fun"
"I want to see Peter" she said back "and keep him away from you" she countered
"Peter can handle himself Claire, and I don't want to kill him. It's more fun him suffering after I killed his whole family, literally, with the exception of you. Besides, a good power battle, like the old days"
"I want to be here for Peter" she snapped back and he chuckled.
"you don't want to leave, do you Claire?" he asked "now that you've seen this side of me?" he teased
"I did make you cry" she countered back and he had just been about to laugh but stopped short, standing still from his pacing. Stopping in the path of the sun.
With a move of his hand, she had control of her body back.
"I didn't cry" he snapped back, but a weak smile played at her lips
"Almost"
"Leave before I decide to make you to stay" he whispered, trying to sound cruel.
"You wouldn't, you're not as bad as you try to be"
"You do know I take people's brains, right?" he asked, a sinister smile growing.
"Still" she whispered
"I don't see why you're here, Claire. I've let you go, what's holding you back? Want your own personal fight with me, I'll be up to it, anytime, not today. I don't want to be worn out when Peter gets here"
She didn't know why she couldn't leave, she stood up though, watching him.
"Claire, why haven't you jumped out of a window to get away from me yet? I'm a monster, remember?" he teased and she shook her head.
"You don't have to be, you could be a hero"
His dark laugh always haunted her the most at this part, he came closer to her, till there was barely any space between them. He was in front of the window with her now.
"Are you saying I don't scare you?" he asked and she shook her head, but he couldn't tell if it was a lie or not. She stepped closer to him, to his surprise and her own. Forcing herself to, wrapped her arms around him in a hug.
"Claire?" his voice was soft, frightened even
"Yes?" she asked, unable to think of anything to call him.
"What are you doing?" he asked softly and she raised her head, looking up into his eyes. His eyes were soft, not the cruel brown she had always remembered, a soft melancholy color.
"I'm sorry" she whispered and he nodded, vaguely for he was still confused, he held onto her now, a chaste hug, a soft genuine smile playing at his lips, but it vanished quickly.
"Claire?" the question came from Peter standing in the open doorway. He couldn't see them, just a blobbed silhouette in front of him, the sun dancing around them.
She separated from Sylar instantly, putting difference between her and the killer, but it just proved that she'd been holding on willingly and not been forced. When the separated, Peter knew they'd been hugging. This realization came with a crashing sound, as his bag fell to the floor. They could see his expression clearly, shocked with a mixture of fear, confusion and hate.
"Pete" Sylar welcomed, his hands still outstretched, as they had been holding Claire. They looked dark, since Peter couldn't see much, the sun in his eyes. They were just dark figures, Sylar's outstretched arms, like vines. He let them drop to his side.
"You've interrupted" he whispered, and now Claire was scared, but not for her own sake. "Second time tonight"
"Claire, what were you doing?" Peter asked, addressing her now.
"We were having a moment Pete" Sylar said, drawing his attention now.
"Now, don't you want to fight me? I touched your poor Claire, though I also saw how she'd love to touch you. And I killed your mother. And your brother, I've been Nathan for years, Pete. Those visits at the hospital, advice late at night, all me."
Peter's anger was growing, and fast. He was clearly still confused and estranged by their closeness, but focused only on Sylar now, ignoring Claire.
"lets fight Pete, I can give you a power, to give you the tiniest chance" Sylar purred and Peter just looked at him, dark brooding silence.
"Winner gets Claire" Sylar remarked and that had pushed Peter over the edge, he advanced at Sylar. Claire was watching, wondering, but before she could see what he had done, Sylar had bathed the room in a blue, electric light. Claire could see only Sylar's back. She heard Peter scream and shouted with all her might.
"PETER! PETER!!! SYLAR DON'T!!!" and then she usually woke up.
Normally, she would wake up screaming Peter's name, or "Sylar no!" but recently, she had woken up, sweat covering her, unable to breathe in the mess of covers, screaming "GABRIEL, DON'T!" She hated the dream, and though it only came twice a month, if even, it was still driving her insane. After 5 years! She now lived somewhere else, across the country. She'd not spoken to Peter since that day and didn't want to contact him, imaging Sylar answering her call again. She was terrified of what he had shown her, his human side and that she had willingly embraced him for it, when it was her mother who had died! When it was her who needed the consoling! She tried to convince herself that Sylar had manipulated her to hug him, but he had been confused, terrified of her touch. She feared that if she met him again, she wouldn't be able to face him with anger. She had watched them fight in real life, but that part never stuck in her dreams. Peter had screamed, true, for his pain tolerance was low, or full of anger, she didn't know, or if she had, she didn't remember. Peter had left without a word, no answering questions, no condolences, no comforting. She wasn't supposed to feel pain, she knew and told herself not to feel for her mother's loss, losing her heart, numbing the pain away with nightmares and horrible replaying memories.
11 Years Past: New York: Isaac Mendes' Apartment
It was 4 in the morning. Peter just returned home from the hospital. He was helping people alright, and that was great. Sometimes it was frustrating though, brought back unpleasant memories. He would lie awake in the hospital, sleep deprived and close his eyes and see himself fly. He kept having the same dreams he'd had when taking care of Charles Deveux and it was cruel fate now that his father had taken away his abilities.
He needed to feel it again, the power, the rush from flying or the satisfaction of moving something with his mind. He still wasn't used to it, the not having powers. He felt so helpless and lost without having them, even with one at a time and Nathan a few hours away. He'd moved back to New York a few years ago, nostalgic for the past he wished was the present.
He'd visited Mohinder last week, the torturous plane ride, when he would've been able to fly. Mohinder had told him that he should be able to adapt, that so many other heroes had adapted and Peter might be able to grasp more than a few powers at a time. Mohinder was slowly losing control of himself though and much as Peter wanted to believe him, he wondered if it was Mohinider's pain medication urging on his dreams.
Mohinder still told him that all was in the realm of possibility, which had gotten Peter thinking. Claire had been able to build a tolerance of pain, and Matt's father had the ability to create nightmares, couldn't he too bring change to his abilities? Peter left Mohinder's small, undistinguishable place in Mexico, with a set plan in mind. He visited Hiro next, which meant another, longer and more painful flight. He experienced Japan for the first time and enjoyed being shown around with a eager Hiro and Ando at his side. After a short two week stay, Peter took Hiro's power and took a trip down memory lane, literally jumping in time to a very long forgotten past.
Though he had thought it risky, he wondered if changing the past wasn't such a bad idea, and would deal with the consequences that came. He sought out Claude, so that he could, as Mohinder explained, reach his potential. He knew that after encountering Claude, if he ever did find him, it would be nearly impossible to travel back to his own time. He would need to find Hiro, or perhaps his powers would manifest. As much as he doubted himself, he hoped his powers would present themselves. He found Claude, atop the Deveux building. It was probably months after Peter of that time had exploded in the air, but this futuristic Peter didn't remember much of that time, his memory so clouded,it was more than 12 years ago.
Claude was naturally, unwilling to help. He'd already dealt with a Peter Petrelli and it had taken quite some work to get him trained, but this Peter was determined not to give up.
"Peter Petrelli?" he asked, atop the Deveux building "nice to see you didn't go boom"
"thought I'd find you here" Peter answered
"and I suppose you need my help?"
"exactly" Peter spoke crisply, direct. "I need training" Peter said
"well, look who came back. I'm done. No"
"I need training" he replied, still firm
"and I suppose if you don't, you'll blow up the world?" Claude asked
"no" Peter replied "I just need training. I can only keep one power at a time"
"Peter"
"Claude, I need your help. You're the one you can help. I'm not going to take no for an answer"
"well i see you're not that pathetic sap anymore" Claude speculated "but I'm not agreeing"
"you got something better to do?" Peter asked, still serious and Claude shook his head
"you really want to do this, then?" Claude asked and Peter nodded.
"Help me now, or I'll follow you around for as long as I have to. That might not be such a great idea though, considering I'm from the future and all" Peter said, clear and strong.
"fine" Claude agreed "but it better not bloody be long, or change anything in the future"
"Deal" Peter responded and as soon as Claude had a bar in his hand, he was bashing Peter in, much like he had years ago.
Peter stayed with Claude for a week in the past, but nothing changed, no powers. All efforts were fruitless and finally, once and for all, sick and tired of getting bruised, broken and bashed in with a metal bar, Peter Petrelli did something he'd never done before and gave up defeat. He called Hiro the next day, parted ways with Claude, thanking him, though nothing had come from their week together. Peter hoped with all his heart that the future had not been changed while he was here. After Hiro teleported to New York, passed on his power and bid Peter farewell, he returned to his past.
That had all been two weeks ago. The future had remained the same, thought Peter couldn't help but feel a bit discontent with his simple life. Now Peter was back to his old self, or in a sense, a new one. He saw barely a point in life, helping in the hospital, spending time without powers, a boring, meaningless life. He was helping people, sure, but he'd always known and still felt now, that he was meant for something greater. He went to sleep that night, dreaming of change and abilities, unknowing what would soon come.
He'd been woken up by a 2 am call from Claire, hurt and scared in Washington. He had promised to call back, but when he had, had learned of the shocking news that now haunted him. He paced his room frantically, unable to bear the weight of the secret. Thoughts spun in his mind, memories of the recent Nathan. He had no way to get to Claire, he knew that for sure. He had traded Hiro's teleporting ability for Molly's. He had been in need to finding other heroes, busying his spare time with searching for remains of those alive. Now, he knew for certain that his mother and Matt Parkman were dead. Niki Sanders was dead. He had found few others. He tried to convince himself that Nathan was not dead, that Sylar was, but his new found ability to find people proved otherwise. He tried desperately to justify it, thinking again and again that his mother would never do that, when the obvious truth stared him in the face. He was already fully dressed and it was only 4 am. He had another hour till he had to be at the airport, then he would endure the plane ride and be on his way to saving Claire. He cursed himself for exchanging his power. Trying to keep out thoughts that pained him, yes, he would have been able to teleport before, if he still had his original ability. He had known that the teleportation and time travel was not important though, since he found himself nostalgic and all he had wanted to do was travel to the past, a much simpler time. To resist temptation, he'd found Molly Walker, by mere coincidence more than anything, since she attended the same private school as Nathan's kids. He had recognized her from Kirby Plaza, though he wondered how his mind had even remembered such a detail. He knew in a sense that he did not need powers to be a hero, remembering when he had kept fighting soon after losing them, but now with time on his hands and an inability to fight, he cursed his father for taking his gift away.
He sat down, tired of his pacing and thought on Nathan again. Dead. Sylar was Nathan. There was no way around it. He had been for years! He'd convinced him and Claire for years! He admitted it now, Sylar was Nathan, he had been in that alternate future, the one with Niki, the one with the bomb. Sylar had been Nathan and he'd been blind to see it there too. He was Nathan, and he, Peter had led Nathan right to Claire, in her weakest moment. His thoughts were tormenting him, driving him insane. You didn't know Peter, You had no way of knowing, It's not your fault. He heard his thoughts, but still the guilt fell on him and all he could do was wait, and hopefully, he'd soon be there. Peter was disgusted on the thought of Sylar as Nathan, comforting Claire! He had to consciously stop his mind of visualizing it, before it would cause him to be nauseous, or worse.
He arrived shortly after and swung the door open to see a strange silhouette in front of him. He was barely able to process what was happeneing, but two things were undeniably clear. Claire had just been hugging Sylar. The second was that she had been doing so in her own free will.
Sylar initiated the fight and though Peter feared the combat, with no ability to save him, he advanced, wanting to cause Sylar as much pain as he could, as hard as it would be.
He stood in the doorway, standing firmly, face-to-face with his greatest unconquered enemy. Thoughts raced through his mind, flitting from one possible course of action to another. Running wouldn't be an option. He wouldn't risk leaving Claire without giving her the benefit of the doubt, and his pride wouldn't allow a retreat. He could fight, but his only power was useless in combat. Before he had time to react, however, Sylar acted.
Sylar's hands snapped from his sides, outstretched toward Peter. He sent a powerful course of electricity down his arms and through his fingers, aimed at the man before him. The room filled with a blinding blue light as the air crackled, causing the hair on Claire's neck to stand up. Sylar grinned in satisfaction as he heard Peter scream, but couldn't see him through the blinding charges.
He figured Peter had had enough. He let up on the electricity, only to be staring at an empty doorway. He frowned. Did Peter run away? It was very unlike the heroic wannabe to flee from an enemy, but then again, neither of them had been in a fight in years. Claire was obviously wondering the same thing, and they looked at each other, confused.
Sylar staggered back as an unseen force slammed him in the jaw. His head jerked to the side, and he put a hand to his face, feeling the stickiness of blood on his lip. His head snapped back, looking frantically around the room, seeing only a bewildered Claire. Another, harder blow came quickly, hitting him in the stomach and knocking the air out of his lungs. Sylar doubled over, clutching his stomach with one arm and bracing himself on the floor with the other, kneeling.
"Claire?" he choked, "What's going on?"
With Sylar on the ground catching his breathe, Peter materialized next to Claire.
"Claire, I need your ability," he whispered, reaching out to gently touch her arm.
"You disappeared, Peter. You were invisible."
He looked at his chest, where his torn shirt revealed healed skin, free of the burns he had sustained only moments ago. All these years of being able to hold onto one ability at a time, and today, he had invisibility and healing.
It took him a moment for Sylar to regain his composure as the bruises healed, and he stood up. Seeing the back of Peter as he spoke to Claire, Sylar took advantage of the situation. He used a forceful motion with his mind to send Peter flying sideways into the wall. With his new healing ability, Peter recovered quickly.
"This should make things more interesting, wouldn't you say?" Sylar gave Peter a sinister look, the corners of his mouth turned up in a deranged half-smile, "I was only expecting feeble resistance."
"Then I guess you're in for more than you bargained for, Sylar!"
With an arrogant laugh, Sylar started sending objects flying at Peter. Plates from the kitchen hurdled toward Peter, who tried to protect himself with his own telekinesis. However, he seemed unable to use the ability and barely covered his head in time with his arms. Peter's cut forearms healed quickly, and he braced himself as the heavy kitchen table flew and slammed him back into the wall. He grunted as he felt his wrist break, but the pain faded quickly, the bones fusing together.
Claire, helpless to stop the fight, yelled out, "Peter, do something! Fight back!"
"How do you expect me to do that? With invisibility?" he growled, frustrated. He was unable to fight, and for what purpose anyway? It's not like Claire was exactly here against her will.
"She's right, Pete. Take action for once," Sylar mocked.
Sylar forced another surge of voltage at Peter, who writhed in pain. He gave Peter a moment to recover before hurling the heavy couch with a simple hand motion. The fight was beginning to bore him, and he was considering ending it now.
As the leather two-seater flew at him, Peter flinched and closed his eyes, putting out his hand. In the absence of a painful impact, he reopened his eyes slowly. The strong piece of furniture had been cracked in half, a piece lying on either side of him. Peter looked at his outstretched fist, making the connection. He realized he had a chance. Peter disappeared.
"Are we going to play games now?" Sylar sighed. This had been a disappointment. Peter wasn't as tough as he'd remembered.
A blinding pain in the back of the head almost knocked Sylar unconscious. He felt dizzy as he started to lift himself up off the carpet. An inhumanly strong kick from a now-visible Peter flipped Sylar onto his stomach before had fully recovered. Sylar groaned, disoriented, but snapped back to his senses in time to dodge a downward punch from Peter. Sylar stood quickly, taking a few steps back from the small crater Peter had caused.
"Super strength. Where did you pick that one up?"
"Nikki Saunders, 2006."
Peter was quickly tiring of this. Claire obviously wasn't in distress, so only Sylar's sick sadism was preventing him from leaving. Maybe it was better if he did leave. His niece and enemy could continue what they started, he thought bitterly. On top of that, the last thing he wanted was to catch Sylar's uncontrollable hunger like before.
"This is over now, Sylar. You two obviously don't need me here" he growled with a glance at Claire.
"Leaving already, Pete? This is just getting interesting," Sylar smirked, rolling his shoulders back. An electric charge formed in his hand. Peter braced himself, not having enough time to evade the attack. Sylar seemed to be taking great pleasure in seeing Peter in pain, but Claire had had enough. She ran to Sylar, reaching out to grab his outstretched arm. He immediately stopped the electricity, not wanting to hurt Claire, but gave her a questioning look.
"Sylar, enough," she whispered to him, leaning in close. She tried to take advantage of his better nature. The fight was over, and she had to stop Sylar before he did any real damage. She had to stand on her toes to whisper in his ear, her height being nothing compared to his six-foot stature.
"You need to let Peter go. He's no match for you," she said, trying to also appeal to Sylar's ego as she put a hand on his chest.
"Fine, if he means that much to you," he growled at her. "Well, Peter, it looks like this is finished," he called out.
Peter didn't hear any of the conversation, only seeing Claire whispering to Sylar as she touched him. This made him angry, and he decided to leave without another word. Peter ran past Sylar, jumped through the glass of the window, and flew out of sight. All Sylar could do was watch him go with a quick glance at Claire. He looked around the room at the wrecked furniture, broken window, and splintered floor.
"More cleanup than I expected."
She couldn't find her voice, but longed to go after Peter. He was probably back in New York by now, or enjoying his powers elsewhere. In any case, she wanted Sylar out, so that if Peter ever did come by again, the murderer would not be in her apartment.
"He ran away Claire. Out of character" Sylar mused, more to himself.
"No he didn't" she countered "He must've had a reason" she told herself
"maybe he wanted to let us be alone" Sylar smirked, facing her now. She stood against the wall, as if trapped, but she felt far from it.
"You need to leave" she said back, and found confusion at it. Was she asking him to leave? Instead of fleeing herself? She thought of how to get rid of him, but no idea came to mind. She'd been through so much in the last few hours, with sudden impact of her mother's death, her hug with Gabriel, Sylar's fight with Peter and now she had the wrong man in her apartment with her.
Peter sat atop a building, just block's away from Claire's. He was reveling in his new found abilities. He knew he should be heartbroken for Claire, consoling her, or shaken from his fight. In truth, he'd not felt happier in more than ten years. The last time he'd experienced such happiness had been when he had realized that he and his brother had conquered Sylar. That memory now filled with pain and emptiness. He practiced flying, allowing himself to invisibly fly over the city. He sat atop another building and took a shard of glass, slashing his thigh and watched it heal. This was indeed, one of the most exciting day he'd had in years. He felt the familiar rush of self identity and knew that he had to change the world and he would start with the cheerleader.