Disclaimer: I don't own Heroes.

Chapter Three:

Awkward. Majorly awkward. There was no other way to describe it. Peter returned from the bathroom in time to see Sylar scooting back away from her along their seat. Claire could feel her cheeks heat from an incriminating blush. Peter looked pissed as he sat down across from them, jaw clenched, eyes narrowed on Sylar.

"Claire, is everything alright?"

"Um-hmm," she forced out in a fake cheerful tone. "Why wouldn't it be?"

Not buying it, Peter kept his eyes on Sylar, who was smirking, naturally.

Peter looked back and forth between them, then finally turned his attention to his lunch. That's when she saw it, the slight sneer on his lips. Claire realized in that moment that Peter wasn't just angry and suspicious; he was disgusted. Oh god, Peter was disgusted by her.

She'd been such an idiot, to think that the look he'd given her that morning when she'd left the bathroom wearing a towel was lust. It had felt like lust at the time, but Claire realized with a sickening clarity that it was really a look of disgust for her, for the way she'd acted during her dream. Peter must think she's such a slut now, and a freak for being attracted to Sylar, her serial killer uncle.

Claire couldn't deny that Peter was right. She was disgusting. She was a perverted freak that was fantasizing about her uncle. There had to be something seriously wrong with her to actually be considering Sylar in that way. No wonder Peter could barely stand to look at her now. Claire had to blink away the beginnings of tears from her eyes.

Why did she ever agree to this family bonding road trip from hell? At first, when her bio-grandmother suggested the trip, Claire had scoffed at the idea. "How can you ask me to treat Sylar like anything other than the psychotic serial killer who hunted me down and violated my brain?!"

"He's not the monster you think he is, Claire." Angela handed her a manila file folder, thick with papers inside. "I want you to read this."

"What is it?"

"It's Gabriel's file, dear. Everything - the good, the bad, the heartbreaking. Underneath all that bravado, he's just a confused, lonely little boy who needs someone to love him."

"You've got to be kidding me."

"He's family. And he needs us. He needs you, Claire."

"I'll never forgive him for what he's put me through."

"Just give him a chance to redeem himself. That's all I ask."

Claire leveled a disbelieving glare at her bio-grandmother, who sighed. Angela got up from behind the mahogany desk and approached Claire. With a soft, sad smile, Angela reached out to push a golden strand of hair behind Claire's ear. "I'm not just doing this for the good of The Company. Or because he's a part of our family. I'm thinking of you, Claire."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't want you to spend eternity alone, dear. Gabriel could give you the love that will keep you sane and even happy in your immortality."

Claire gasped, her eyes wide in indignation. "How can you suggest that, after everything Sylar's done to me? Do you actually expect me to live out a happily ever after into eternity with him? He's a serial killer! And there's also the fact that he is apparently my uncle!"

Angela sighed, returning to the leather seat behind her desk. "Did Noah ever tell you about Adam Monroe?"

"Who's Adam Monroe?"

"He was one of The Company's founders. He was born with your ability, Claire."

Claire gasped.

"He's over 400 years old and doesn't look a day over thirty."

"Oh my god."

"In the seventies Adam decided that in order to save humanity from itself, he had to release a virus that would kill 98% of the Earth's population. We stopped him before he could carry out his plan and have him contained. The point is, Claire, that over the centuries, life and death came to mean little to Adam, after watching everyone he ever knew or cared for grow old and die, again and again and again. Ultimately, I think it was the loneliness that drove him mad. I don't want that to be your fate."

Claire was stunned. Since she'd discovered her ability, the idea that she would never grow old and die was something she tried to push to the back of her mind. Claire liked to focus on the here and now. With all the craziness that had been her life since then, she'd been, for the most part, successful. Until Sylar took her ability and told her they could never die. That statement had haunted Claire, more than anything else about that awful day.

She didn't want to believe that she would live forever, but learning about Adam confirmed the terrifying reality of her situation. Four hundred years! What would she be like in four hundred years? Would she be driven mad with loneliness too? Would she try to murder billions of people with some crazed idea of saving humanity? Would she succeed? She didn't want to imagine herself like that . . . a worse monster than Sylar ever was.

Angela seemed to take the tears now falling down Claire's cheeks as evidence that her point had sunk in. "Read the file, Claire. You can save each other."

Her bio-grandmother's words kept popping up in her head during the road trip. She'd glance over at Sylar and hear Angela saying cryptically, "You can save each other." Claire knew that Angela saw the future in her dreams. What had she seen? Did she see Claire and Sylar together, happy and in love?

Unable to resist, Claire read Sylar's file before they set out on the trip. She wished that she hadn't. The monster that she saw in Sylar became a man - a vulnerable, broken man. Just seeing the picture of him as Gabriel Gray, dorky watchmaker with glasses and a sweater vest, had irreparably changed the way she saw Sylar.

Claire tried to remind herself that Sylar was a killer, a monster . . . but monsters don't feel remorse. They don't try to hang themselves in their sad dorky little watch shop after killing for the first time. Learning about how vulnerable he'd been, how lost and alone he must have felt after he inadvertently caused the death of his mother, the only person who ever showed him any love pulled at her heart. He wanted to die and almost succeeded. That completely shocked her.

Reading about the way Elle had saved him from his noose only to pray upon his weaknesses, to pretend to have feelings for him only to manipulate him pissed her off. That bitch had done everything she could to push him to kill again. What made it worse was learning that it was at her own father's orders. They'd pretty much shoved another victim in his face just so they could watch him kill, because they were curious about how he was able to take someone else's ability. It was sickening.

And now he was trying so hard to please Angela, to be a good agent and make his newfound mother proud of him. It was kind of sad. When Claire looked at Sylar, she didn't feel fear anymore. She didn't feel hate. She felt . . . confused. And then she had to go and humiliate herself with that stupid sex dream, calling out his name in front of both Sylar and Peter. Now Sylar was coming on to her, and it didn't gross her out like it should have. It actually turned her on.

Claire cast a surreptitious glance at Sylar. His eyes were focused on his plate as he meticulously twirled spaghetti onto his fork and cut off the longer, straggling noodle ends before bringing a bite to his mouth. Claire noticed that he had a napkin on his lap and his elbows off the table. Huh. Big bad Sylar shouldn't care about having perfect table manners, but Gabriel Gray might.

He picked up his soda, bringing the glass to his mouth absentmindedly, not noticing the straw until it poked him in the face. His eyes widened, then he quickly glanced up at Peter, who hadn't noticed, then over at Claire, who managed to stifle a laugh, but couldn't hide her smile. Sylar quickly looked back at his plate, his pale skin starting to blush in embarrassment. It was the cutest thing ever.

There was something so compelling about the glimpses of vulnerability she caught beneath his charismatic façade. Like on the day they started this trip, when Sylar showed up in a company car to pick her and Peter up at the Petrelli mansion. She was dressed casually in jeans and a floral print peasant blouse, as was Peter, in khaki pants and a light blue t-shirt, so when Claire saw Sylar leaning against the car dressed in a black suit with a crisp white shirt and a black tie, Claire couldn't stop herself from laughing.

"Nice suit, Sylar," she said with a smirk as he loaded her large duffle bag into the trunk for her. Peter shoved his own bag into the trunk, asking Sylar, "So, are you one of the men in black?"

She was expecting him to make some sort of wise-ass comeback, but he remained silent. By the time he settled into the driver's seat, Sylar had taken off his suit jacket, rolled his white button-down shirt up to his elbows and loosened his tie. And he was blushing. It was pretty adorable. Claire thought about teasing him further, but the photo of Sylar as Gabriel Gray, dorky watchmaker, popped into her head.

Claire wondered what he'd been like in high school. Probably the captain of the chess club or the math-a-letes. If he was picked on for dressing like such a nerd, he was likely extra sensitive to being teased about his clothes; so Claire held her tongue. Then she thought, this is Sylar, why am I trying to not hurt his feelings?

She looked at him now, hair cut short and styled back in a handsome, James Bond sort of way, no thick black glasses to hide his burnt caramel eyes and dramatic eyebrows. This Sylar exuded a strangely intense sexy charisma. He seemed so confident, even annoyingly arrogant at times. How much of the geek was still inside there, hiding beneath what her grandmother had called his "bravado"?

He must have noticed her watching him because he rubbed his knee against hers suggestively, a half-smile on his lips. With merely a slight nudge of his knee, Sylar managed to send her pulse through the roof and a warm blush burning her neck and cheeks. Why did her body have to react to his like this? She tried to remember when this happened, when Sylar went from scary nightmare man to hot sex-dream man.

It would be less shameful if she could say that it started when she found out about his geeky past and struggles to fight against his strange "hunger", that apparently is a feature of his ability, so not really his fault. It would be less sick and twisted if her attraction started when he began working for the Company and trying to be a "good guy". But no, her perverted little crush had started the day he cut open her brain and took her ability.

This is something she never told anyone, would never tell anyone, didn't even want to admit to herself. The first time she felt a flare of attraction to Sylar was when he used his telekinesis to throw her and pin her to a wall in her parent's living room. She was terrified of him, of course, but in that moment, amidst the horror, was a shocking jolt of desire, a primal yearning. She looked at him and for a second she felt like an animal sizing up a potential mate and finding him powerful and virile. She was quickly torn from those disturbing thoughts when he lifted a finger and drew a line of pain across her forehead.

Then there was the time he'd held out his hand to her, saving her from a whirling vortex into nothingness. That was the new Company agent version of Sylar, looking like 007 in his black suit. Granted, the suit look was pretty hot, but it was the strange way he looked at her that made her heart flutter rebelliously, like his eyes were reaching out to her soul in sudden understanding. He had the nerve to apologize for everything he'd put her though; and, shockingly, she could tell that he actually meant it.

But it wasn't the good boy Sylar that starred in her sex dream last night. In her dream, she'd just woken up to the sound of a toilet flushing. The bathroom door opened to reveal a shirtless Sylar silhouetted in the doorway.

Claire couldn't help but admire his lean, muscular body. Her eyes swept over his powerful arms and chest down his chiseled abs to the way his pajama pants hung loosely from his hips. When her appreciative gaze made its way back up to his face, she realized she'd been caught. He smiled mischievously and slowly stalked across the room to stand at the foot of her bed.

Lust glittered in his eyes, amplifying her own. Claire swallowed, expecting him to climb onto the bed and make her head spin with a fiery kiss. Part of her desperately wanted him to do just that, but Sylar didn't move. Instead, he slowly lifted his right hand.

Claire tensed, thinking for a second that he was about to use his telekinesis to cut open her skull again. Sylar surprised her by ghosting invisible telekinetic fingers in a soft caress down her cheek. They continued sweeping slowly along her neck, paused over her quickening pulse, then whispered along her collar bone.

Sylar hesitated before trailing his invisible fingers over a nipple, making her shudder. Claire knew she should stop him, but it wasn't like he was actually touching her, she rationalized. When she didn't protest, his lips twisted into a satisfied smirk. He applied more pressure, teasing one nipple, then the other over her thin tank top. Then she felt his hand slip under her top, smoothing over her stomach before moving up to caress her breasts and give her nipples more attention.

Claire closed her eyes, lost in the sensations, until she felt the invisible hand slide down her belly then slip between her boxers and her panties to lightly caress her sensitive nub. She opened her eyes, startled by the sudden reality of what she was letting him do. Claire knew she should tell him to stop, but it felt amazing, so she held her tongue.

His smirk shifted into a feral snarl. Claire watched her blanket slide past her legs to the bottom of the bed, leaving her feeling exposed and vulnerable to Sylar's hungry eyes. That feeling intensified dramatically when her boxers followed the blanket, his ghostly fingers trailing shivers down her legs as he slid them off. Claire couldn't believe what she was allowing. She knew she should stop this before it went any further, and tried to convince herself to say something. Then in one quick motion, her panties were torn into pieces and ripped off her. The unexpected violence of the act sent a bolt of need to her core, eradicating the part of her that was on the verge of protesting.

Sylar smiled, slipping a telekinetic finger inside her. Claire nearly yelped in shock, and had to bite her lip to keep from waking Peter. Discomfort quickly eased as Sylar began a slow rhythm that ignited a primal need in her. It grew even more difficult to keep quiet as he added another finger and increased his pace. Oh god, he was good at this.

Watching his raised hand mirroring the invisible touches she was feeling was so bizarrely hot. His thumb rubbed tiny circles in the air that she felt on her clit, and his index and middle fingers gestured up and down as he thrust his telekinetic fingers in and out of her. His eyes were blazing and he was almost as out of breath as she was.

She glanced down and noticed that his arousal was straining against his pajama pants. Her eyes widened at how very aroused he was. He was so tall, she thought fleetingly, it makes sense.

Her fists gripped the sheets and legs began to writhe as she felt her orgasm approaching. When her right leg leaned across her left, blocking Sylar's view, Claire felt the pressure of two more invisible hands catch hold of her legs, spreading them wide then holding them firmly in place.

"Say my name," Sylar whispered, his voice low and husky. She shook her head, her eyes flashing over towards Peter, who was thankfully still asleep in the other bed. If Peter woke up she'd literally die of embarrassment.

"Say it or I'll stop." Then, suddenly, the invisible fingers were gone. Claire whimpered. Damn it, she was so close! Giving in, she whispered, "Sylar."

He smiled devilishly, resuming his invisible touches with gusto.

"Say it again."

"Sylar," she barely managed to say in a breathy voice.

"Who is about to make you come?"

Her next "Sylar" came out in a moan.

"Who do you belong to?"

Claire was fighting to silence her moans as a delicious tingling sensation started in her center. When she didn't answer him, his invisible fingers entered her more roughly, and the pressure on her clit increased. "Who do you belong to, Claire? Who do you belong to?"

"Sylar!" she called out as her body exploded in pleasure. "Sylar!"

That's when she woke up to the humiliation of this morning.

Claire felt herself getting wet just from thinking about her dream. She eyed Sylar from beneath her lashes, wondering if he could do that for real, make her come just by using his telekinesis. Sylar caught her looking at him. His dark eyes seemed to burn into her, like he knew exactly what she'd been thinking about.

When she finally tore her gaze away from his, she found Peter watching them, his jaw clenched in disgust. Ashamed, Claire lowered her eyes to her lunch. Peter was right. She was a disgusting freak.

Author's Note:

When I started this story, I only knew what would happen up to the diner. It's taken awhile, but I now have a solid plan for the rest of it. It'll be a long multi-chaptered fic. And I know how it ends, so don't worry about getting sucked into a story that the author never ends up finishing (I hate when that happens!)

If you like what you read, please review and tell me. It'll inspire me to write and update faster!