Part 2: Fallen Angels And Mere Immortals

"You know you can't save her from him, right?" Hiro's Japanese accent was long gone, and his voice hummed in a low echo throughout the tunnel.

"In every future, he will find her." Hiro repeated as Peter moved around their painstakingly handmade timeline. Peter froze, turning to face him, dark eyes flashing. It was in times like this that he found his friend very Italian Mafia, especially with that long scar across his face.

"Oh, I don't want to save her." Peter said coolly. "If she wants to fuck that bastard, it's fine with me. But I am going to kill him, one way or another." He traced his scar absentmindedly. "I gave up saving her a long time ago."

Hiro sighed as he remembered the circumstances under which he had gotten that scar. He could understand Peter's anger; he had promised Claire he was going to kill Sylar, after hearing from Angela what Sylar had done. He had posed as an innocent, gotten close to her from what he understood. Claire, who had been cutting up an apple, had frozen: rigid.

Hiro had understood. She was in love with him, no matter what the circumstance. And she probably suffered more than the younger Petrelli brother would ever realize because of it. He understood that she wished she did not love him; her torment was clear in her face and her body language. But Peter, who had been so wracked by guilt over the explosion, had seen it as her taking sides with him, something he knew Claire would never do.

The conversation had ended badly, with Peter calling Claire an unfriendly and from the dictionary's translation, insulting English term: a "whore" and Claire yelling and accidentally (or purposely, it hadn't really been clear) slashing him across the face.

They had just stared at each other for a few seconds, before Claire had grabbed a cloth and tried to stop the blood that had been flowing from Peter's face.

"Why isn't it healing?" She had asked brokenly as he pushed her backwards and away from him, disgust etched onto his face.

Peter had turned away from her and stalked towards the door, gesturing for Hiro to follow. He had looked at her one last time before saying in a cold voice, "Because I don't want it to anymore. I'm done with you Claire;" He paused, turning away. "You and your power." The door had slammed, and even Hiro, whose English at the time had still been questionable, had realized that a powerful bond had been broken. It had been more than a few years, but he could still hear the sound of Claire's broken sobs echoing throughout the apartment as he left.

XXXXXXXXX

Midland, Texas

Claire watched the TV shaking her head at Nathan. He was at it again. His plot for genocide. Honestly, she had thought he couldn't stoop any lower. Obviously, she had been wrong. She smiled as Andy wiped the counter in front of her, giving her a secret smile.

She sighed, leaning forward to press their lips together. He kissed her, his hands coming up to rest on her shoulders. A bolt of frustration ran through her when she tried but couldn't get that tingly feeling she had when-when he kissed her. Because, and it was becoming a bad habit, now every guy she dated was immediately compared to him.

And Andy was sweet. He was endearing and funny (but not witty, like Ga-No, Sylar had been), and he cared about her feelings and talked things out with her and never pushed her on what she did and didn't want to do. He was every other girls rendition of perfect, with blue eyes and blonde hair, except for her. Because she wanted dark brown hair and hot-coal-black eyes that seemed to burn you alive when they looked at you.

Ugh. She pushed that thought out of the way, and placed her hands on either side of Andy's face, kissing him as softly and sweetly as she could. After all, they were getting married. Because she loved him (yes, she did, and she wasn't just saying that), and he had proposed.

But in her heart of hearts, she didn't love him like that. Like fire and ice and passion so deep you couldn't explain it; she loves him like she loved Zach: Like her best friend. A really attractive best friend, but...

Nevertheless.

She sighed as they broke apart. She grinned up at him, hoping he wouldn't see the flicker of a frown that threatened to bloom. God, this was exhausting. The worst part was the lying. It never ended. She grabbed her bag from the cupboard under the counter, pulling away.

"I need to go home to get ready." She shot him an apologetic look, brushing her hair back from her face. "Lock up?"

Andy nodded, grinning widely. She gave him a final peck on the cheek, turning to the back door.

She shuddered as the wind brushed an icy path down her back. She still hated winter. She grabbed the bag of trash from beside the door and dumped it into the garbage, wrinkling her nose.

"You still hate the cold, I see."

She froze, going rigid.

"And," She could feel his breath on the back of her neck now, "you still love me."

She took a deep breath, mustering as much strength as she could. She needed to push him away, keep her anger at him. She wasn't going to survive any other way.

She spun around, ready to slap him, punch him, attack; but then she saw him. In the 3 years 7 months he'd been away, he'd grown. His shoulders seemed broader, his face less angular and sharp. He looked older, but in a good way, like he was finally growing into his own skin. His dark hair was pushed back, hanging mildly behind his ears. The spikes were gone, and she found herself missing them slightly. His eyes were the same though; thank god, still dark and deep and beautiful. And his lips... Her eyes fell away from his face as she tried to force her hands into sub-mission. She wasn't going to hug him, she was not.

She watched him carefully, the way the corners of his mouth pulled themselves into that over-confident smirk that she would love to hate. Instead, her heart rate sped up and she could feel the flutter of butterflies in her stomach. Traitorous body.

He stepped closer, his hand coming up to brush her now dark locks away from her face. She inhaled sharply, her eyes fluttering closed as she felt the warmth of his fingers touch her face.

"Can't say I like the hair though." She heard him say. "I preferred you blonde." He whispered, leaning in closer so that his lip brushed against her ear.

She snapped, her hands flying from her sides into his hair, pulling him down to her. His lips were warm against hers, so eager to fight back. Not like Andy, who was sweet and gentle; treating her like fragile glass. And she could feel the tingles again! Her hands fisted in his hair, tugging at the ends as she moaned softly into his mouth. She could feel the brick wall cutting into her back, but she didn't care. He bit down on her bottom lip, and she felt the blood, copper and rust on the tip of her tongue as she dug her nails into the back of his neck for revenge. He chuckled, and the sound resonated down her body in the best way.

He pulled back, gasping for air, his eyes sparking. "Missed me, did you?"

She pulled him forwards again, locking her arms around his neck and breathing in deep. He smelled like home; mint and cinnamon.

"Sandra?" Claire's eyes snapped to Andy, who was looking at her from the back door in confusion. He must have finished locking up. She felt Sylar tense slightly under her arms. She gave him a warning look as she pulled back, mentally reprimanding herself. What was she doing, kissing him like that?

He was off limits.

"Andy, this is..." She trailed off, biting her lip and looking back at Sylar. His eyes were dark and predatory as they looked at Andy, his jaw tense. "Gabriel." Maybe that would calm him slightly. She felt his hand come up to her shoulder, tightening painfully. Maybe not.

"My brother." She finished, struggling not to wince as her shoulder was almost crushed under his grip.

Andy's face immediately cleared. He smiled, reaching out a hand to shake. Sylar stared him down, keeping a grip on her shoulder.

Andy withdrew his hand, looking disappointed. Claire wanted to put a hand on his shoulder, comfort him, but she didn't think that would help things. It'd probably just make Sylar angrier. And that would not be good.

"Is he here for the dress rehearsal?" Andy asked finally, clearing his throat.

"Uhhh..." Claire glanced back at Sylar, whose jaw seemed to be twitching. She turned back to Andy unsurely, trying to think of an answer that wouldn't hurt either of them.

"Actually, that's what Sandra wanted to talk to you about." His voice came from behind her, smooth and cold. "Our father's been admitted to the hospital. She won't be able to make it." She turned around, glaring at him. He gave a half-shrug, a mean smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

"Oh..." Andy nodded, looking so concerned and solemn that Claire itched to hug him. It wasn't fair. She wished she could feel differently. She lowered her eyes to the ground, trying to subdue the guilt that ate away at her heart.

"We'll reschedule then." Claire reached for Andy's hand, squeezing it gently.

"Thanks," she murmured, pulling away from Sylar's restraining hand and hugging him. "It means a lot." She pulled back, out of his reach, and she felt Sylar's hand curve restrainingly around her shoulders.

"I'll see you Monday." Andy gave her a reassuring grin. Sylar's arm dragged her down the alleyway, barely giving her enough leeway to wave goodbye to Andy.

The walk back to her apartment was silent, and Claire's stomach was doing butterflies. Was he mad? Was he going to go back and kill Andy later? Her stomach twisted in knots and she struggled to keep herself under control.

"This is me." She stopped outside her front door, hoping he'd make this easy on her and leave before she had the chance to miss him.

He merely looked at her with raised eyebrows and gestured for her to open the door.

She fumbled with her keys, her palms sweaty. The minute she got the door open, he pushed her against the wall, his hands squeezing on her neck.

"Gabriel? You introduce me to him as Gabriel?" Claire gasped for air, squeezing on his shoulders.

"Let me down!" She snarled, scratching at his face. He let her down abruptly, letting her drop to the floor. He had her back up against the wall in an instant though, his hands pressing on her waist.

"You have to earn Gabriel." He growled into her ear. Before she could respond, his mouth was on hers and all thought left her brain. She could only think of responding, and half-whispered moans as his mouth traveled down her neck.

Her jacket went first, strewn across the living room floor. Then her top. The jeans. Underwear. Bra. Boots. Socks.

He was still fully dressed, his eyes flaring up in the dark. He looked angry. And su-uper sexy, the hormonal side of her whispered.

His arms came up around her waist, then her knees, cradling her back against her chest. He carried her into her bedroom, depositing her on the bed. He didn't join her. She propped herself up on her elbows, just taking him in.

The lights outside slid in through the windows, leaving him as merely a silhouette, dark and imposing. He shrugged of his jacket, before sliding out of his top.

Even in the dark she could make out his muscled chest, which seemed to have grown muscle-ier since the last time she'd seen it. She licked her lips, before biting down hard. What was she doing? She had a fiance. Something she seemed to keep forgetting. What was she doing here, naked in her bedroom, with the man who'd changed everything? Made everything bad? Practically ruined her life?

You might never see him again... Another part of her brain whispered. Or at least, for a long time.

She relented, leaning back at watching him. He sat on the edge of the bed, still and unmoving.

"You couldn't wait for me?" He finally said, his voice deeper than a few years ago, stronger somehow. "You knew I'd come back..." He twisted to look at her, and beyond the anger, she could see the hurt in his face.

"So why couldn't you wait? Was he too charming?" He spat, and anger flared low in her stomach.

"You think it was easy on me?" She rose onto her knees and he stood, running a hand through his hair and turning away from her.

"You turned my whole world upside down!" Her voice cracked with emotion as she hopped off her bed to stand in front of him, glaring up at him, chin raised in defiance.

"I was broken when you left. I didn't know what to do, what to think. Andy.." She turned away from him, folding her arms against her chest. "He was cute and charming and everything you weren't. And that was a good thing."

"I needed to believe that I could fall in love with someone good. But it didn't work because I'm still in love with you." She felt his arms come up around her shoulders and angrily tried to push him away, but he held fast to her hands, instead pulling her into him.

"I think we have a problem then;" he whispered into the stillness of the room. "I still love you too."

It was slower this time, his hands rising to cup her face and she leaned into him, melting with his soft words and fiery kisses. Slowly, he pushed her back against the bed, still kissing her as he lay her down.

Her mind was reeling; she knew he'd loved her... He just hadn't said it before.

She gasped into his mouth as he straddled her, kissing and biting her ear. She couldn't think, couldn't breathe. All she could see was him. She struggled to remember everything about him; she knew he was leaving in the morning. She held on to his smell, the way he kissed, the way he groaned when she kissed that spot below his throat, the way he made her feel; like lightning was blazing across every part of her body at once as her toes curled and un-curled simultaneously. And most of all, she struggled to remember the way she curled into his chest when it was over, the way he held her like he never was going to let her go.

She'd need to hold on to this in the morning; when he left and she hated herself for letting him in again and when she remembered all the blood on his hands.

She was so focused on all of this that she didn't even question why he was here now.

xxxxxxxxx

It was a little after sunrise when she woke; the sun was streaming in through the windows, orange and pink and gold. His eyes were still closed, his eyebrows a dark mast against his forehead. She kissed his cheek, then his mouth, then the side of his neck. Slowly, his eyes fluttered open.

"It still works on you." She propped herself up on her elbows, giving him a knowing grin.

He rolled onto his back, smirking to himself as she traced circles on his chest. She snuggled in closer, sighing as his arm pulled her in until she was practically resting on top of him.

"You know, sometimes I forget what I've done to deserve you." He said quietly, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards.

"Nothing." She gave him a dark look. "You don't."

There was silence for a few moments before he whispered into the top of her head. "You've kept my books, I see." His eyes flicked towards the corner cabinet. Books were practically flowing out of the old thing.

"Well," Claire said, the smile she was holding in threatening to give way, "you remember Pillars Of The Earth was one of my favorites."

"She loved him because he had brought her back to life. She had been like a caterpillar in a cocoon, and he had drawn her out and shown her that she was a butterfly." He said, playing with the ends of her hair before rolling her onto her back.

"You are a butterfly, Claire." He said with a grin and she laughed. He laughed too, before rolling over so she was on top.

"When are you leaving?" She asked finally, when the comfortable silence became too comfortable.

He winced, closing his eyes.

"In a while." He said, not offering anymore than that.

She rolled off him, tangling herself up in the white sheets. He propped himself up on his side, reaching out to trace soft circles on her hipbone.

"Are you going to go through with the wedding?"

Claire squinched her eyes shut. She didn't want to think about this right now.

She rolled onto her back. "Yes." She said, finally. There was no point in lying.

"Why?" He didn't sound mad, just generally curious. "I mean, you don't love him, do you?"

Claire looked at him for a long, long time before she answered.

"Yes, but I'm supposed to love him. I'm supposed to hate you. I'm supposed to hate the blood on your hands, but every time you're with me, I forget. And I hate myself for it, because I know that... I know that if you hadn't fallen in love with me my blood would be there too." His jaw tightened, but he remained still on the bed.

"I have to go." He said abruptly, pushing himself up and taking half of the sheets with him. She jumped to her feet, padding over to him. "I thought you said you could stay a-"

He cut her off, kissing her roughly and pushing her against the wall. "I know, but-" He paused, summoning his clothes with his telekinesis. She watched with interest, remembering all those times she hadn't been able to get her bra off and he'd just been able to without a problem. It all made sense now.

"I just realized I have something to do." He moved to put his shirt on, but she stopped him, grabbing the shirt away from him. She pulled it over his head, standing on her tip-toes to do so.

"She was unique: there was something abnormal about her, and it was that abnormal something that made her magnetic." He whispered in her ear as he kissed the side of her jaw, taking her chin in his hands.

He turned away and grabbed his jacket from the floor, turning toward the door.

"Sylar?" He turned, eyes dark, and she raced forward wrapping her arms around him and kissing him with all the passion she could muster.

Into that kiss she put all the things she'd never be able to say, all the things she wanted from him, all the things she wanted for them. He lingered in the kiss before pulling away, and she was left in the middle of her living room, leaning against the wall for support.

"Gabriel?" He turned, looking tired and forlorn. Maybe he hated the goodbyes too.

"Claire?"

"She wanted to say 'I love you like a thunderstorm, like a lion, like a helpless rage'" She repeated the words she knew by heart, and watched him smile genuinely, before turning away.

"Fallen angels don't deserve the mortals who try to save them either." He said, and she blinked before she heard the door slam close.

"I would like to help you back into heaven." She whispered into the emptiness.

Outside, he whispered back, a bitter smile curving onto his lips, "I don't think you can."

xxxxxxxxxxxx

End Of Part 2

Hiro watched as Peter watched Sylar leave Claire's apartment.

"Why didn't you stop him if them being together angers you?" Hiro asked, observing the deep anger that seemed to dwell inside the older man.

"I figure she's going to need these memories." He said smoothly, rising from his perch.

"For what?" Hiro's brow furrowed.

"For when I destroy him."

Sorry for the long wait! I seem to have stumbled into a bit of a writing block. I hope you've enjoyed this installment, because I had a really fun time writing this one (even if I did take a while). Tell me what you think;)