Chapter Four

"Tell me you want me."

She could feel hot kisses and rough hands roaming all over her body. Little blue electrical sparks tingled over her skin. Claire was more than a little reluctant to wake up that morning. She found herself tangled in her sheets from tossing and turning all night. Sweat gleamed over her face and chest.

A shower was in order. A nice long cold shower.

Icy water cascaded over her, chilling her to the bone and snapping her back to reality. Her mind wondered over the past. When exactly was it that she had stopped despising every fiber of his being. At what point was she able, not to forgive or even forget what he had done to her and her loved ones, but seemingly move beyond it.

For whatever reason Sylar had had a strange fascination with her since that day he had come to steal her ability. She gagged a bit thinking about how his fingers had pillaged her brain. He had taken a piece of her for himself.

And then it dawned on her.

During their alternate reality experience Sylar had been the one to grant her the new power. With her permission that time, he had delved into the depths of her physical mind again and placed a piece of himself there. He had been generous enough to warn her that he no idea what the side effects would be, but that a possible connection could be made through the transference of power.

There was a real link between them now.

Sylar rolled over and groped around the other side of the bed, looking for the woman that had fallen asleep there only a few hours ago. He opened his eyes and looked around. He was sitting alone on a rather deflated air mattress in his barren bedroom where no trace of his companion from last night could be found.

He fell back onto the hard floor and laughed to himself.

His company phoned started beeping with an incoming message somewhere in the other room. He grabbed his crumpled pants from the floor and slipped them on as he scrambled to find the phone. A gentle knock sounded at the door. Sylar left the phone forgotten for a moment and answered. He had to smile when he saw it was Claire standing there.

The smile faded quickly though when he noticed that she was dressed up in their regulation body armor.

"I'm here to bring you in, Sylar," she said with a certain sadness in her voice.

"Where are the others?" he asked looking down the hallway for their team mates.

"They're all waiting outside. We're hoping that you'll come quietly."

Sylar hung his head and leaned against the door for a long minute. He found his shirt and jacket and pulled them on as he led the way out.

Claire quietly rocked herself back and forth against the wall of the interrogation room. Noah sat in the corner staring off into space as he subconsciously spun the barrel of a revolver over and over.

Matt didn't need his telepathy to sense the tension in the air as he walked through the door and took his seat at the shiny steel table across from Sylar.

"I guess I don't need to ask how you're doing."

Sylar shot him a venomous look.

Have they told you why you're here yet?

Nope.

Last night the second response team was sent out to settle a disturbance complaint against a telekinetic. The guy decimated them. They're all dead.

Sylar looked up and cocked his head to the side.

They think it was me?

There was some… interesting evidence suggesting that, yeah.

Matt got up from his seat and stepped out the door, quickly returning with the digital recorder that held the security tape. He pushed play and handed it to Sylar who watched the fight.

Nathan…

Obviously he's dead and you're the only one we know that can shape shift into his form. What were you doing between midnight and four last night?

Thinking about your wife.

Matt winced at the crude comment.

Come on, man. Just tell me so we can get out of here.

Sylar's eyes flashed to Claire who crossed her arms and turned away. Matt picked up on the look.

Was Claire there?

The door to the interrogation room opened with a loud squeak and Chris McKinley stepped in looking a little sheepish. Charisma Jones followed him in, wringing her hands.

"Go ahead and tell them what happened," Chris prodded her.

"Agent Gray didn't kill those people," she said with a heavy sigh. "He was with me when it happened…"

It took a long moment but everyone caught on to what she was saying. Matt's eyes widened and he uttered a loud "Oh," as he looked back to Sylar. The dark man was in a world of shock all his own.

You thought she was…

Claire's face was an open book of emotion. Surprise, anger, sadness, they all flashed in her eyes one after another. She pushed past the other agents and stormed out of the room with tears beginning to well up in her eyes.

Sylar was still motionless.

Claire didn't even bother to tape her knuckles as she started wailing on the punching bag. All she could see was his face. His stupid, stupid, horrible face. She heard the sound of bone crunching in her hands and a snapping in her wrist but she didn't even care. It wasn't like she could feel the pain. Not really. Not the pain she wanted to feel that would make everything else easier to deal with, but he had taken that from her too.

"You look like you need someone to talk to," Chris said ducking as her fist almost collided with his face. He took a few swings at the bag as he gave her a second to think.

"Or if you don't want to talk and just need somebody to take it out on…"

This time he didn't hold back as they fought. She knew that he knew that she needed this. She didn't even feel bad when she sent him to the floor with a charged up hit to the face. He lay stunned for a moment, examining the amount of blood that came pouring from his nose.

Claire took the knife from her leg strap and drew the blade across her palm. She dripped the blood over her partner's face where a cut split his eyebrow and watched as he regenerated.

"I thought you guys didn't have a thing," he said with a snort as his sinuses knit back together.

"We don't. We never did. I don't even really know why I care."

"Do you have feelings for him?"

Claire thought about it for a minute and discovered that she didn't even have an answer for that.

"He killed both of my biological parents. Even my grandfather. He tried to make me kill my grandmother. He did kill my uncle once but it didn't take.

"He tried to kill my adoptive parents. He killed the girl who used to be my best friend in high school. He basically killed or tried to kill everyone that I ever remotely cared about. He stalked me and made my life a living hell for years. And just to top it off he pretty much brain raped me to steal my ability." Claire sat down on the floor next to Chris, feeling the confession to be a little cathartic.

"But you don't hate him," he said a little more matter of factly than she liked.

"A big part of me does. More than anything."

"And the other part?"

"The other part doesn't know," she said hanging her head in her hands. "It's like I can see this other side of him that isn't a monster."

"Because you're connected."

"What?" Claire felt her eyes widen, suddenly alert to Chris's every facial expression as she searched for what he meant.

"A blind person could see it, Claire. When you're out in the field together… Every time he moves, you move. Everything he feels, you feel. You guys don't even notice it but the rest of us do. The way you work together without even talking… It's almost like you can read each other's minds or something. You're just two parts to a bigger whole."

She felt lost in those thoughts. They were comforting and terrifying at the same time.

"Sounds like a good night to get drunk, huh?" He gave her a wicked smile.

Sylar may have left the interrogation room a free man, but as he exited the department's campus he only felt trapped. He was a caged animal surrounded by millions of thoughts that he couldn't get out of his head.

A part of him knew that it hadn't been Claire last night. She never would have come to him that way but he had been so desperate to believe. It didn't matter. None of it mattered. He took out the postcard from the depot and headed out to the watch shop with purpose.

The shop was dark and cluttered with a thin layer of dust settled over everything. Sylar felt at home amongst the precise tickings and tockings of the time pieces. He admired the wide selection of various cogs, pendulums, coils and other spare parts. Somewhere there was something off though. He listened carefully and followed his instincts to a medium size cuckoo clock.

It was an old time piece, set in an early 1900s German style wooden case with fantastic gothic engraving work. Sylar felt like his old self as he adored the hand made craftsmanship. He pressed his ear against it and determined that it was indeed the time piece he was searching for. The clock was running nearly five seconds to slow.

He almost subconsciously reached for the tools as he gingerly removed the backing. One tiny cog had a minute tooth missing that caused the next wheel over to catch giving the delay in time. He found a replacement part easy enough. As Sylar repaired the lovely time piece and gave it a doting amount of oil he noticed something odd poking out from the bottom of the casing. He closed up the back of the instrument and found a secret compartment underneath. Inside was a manila folder of what appeared to be documents of a secretive nature.

Flipping through the folder he discovered detailed evaluations of a young man in his early twenties named Brandon Miller. The subject had been a coma patient during the eclipse that had caused so many powers to manifest. However, he had retained to ability to alter the perceptions of time and reality in the people around him.

Researching further, Sylar found documentation of the effects of the boy's power on not only himself but Claire and Peter as well. They had been subject to some kind of experiment without even knowing it. What was worse though was that they had manipulated him and Claire to fight and… quite nearly it seemed to develop an intimate relationship. He wracked his brain, trying to cause all of the information make sense. Why couldn't he remember this?

And there it was. The coup de grace of information. Claire hadn't just developed a new power over night. Sylar himself had been the one to give it to her. They were connected.

So many questions were answered. So many more were risen.

"I can't believe I let you talk me into coming here," she groaned as the neon lights danced across the wall behind her.

"Relax. We'll drink. We'll dance. And we'll have a spectacular time!" Chris declared as he walked her over the dance floor and towards the bar.

"You do know that I can't actually get drunk? My ability, it prevents that!" she shouted over the roaring music of the night club.

Chris flashed another wicked smile as he pulled a loaded syringe from the pocket of his leather jacket. A small pang of fear jolted her stomach as he waved it in front of her.

"Beta blockers!" He yelled. "They're a key ingredient to neutralizing abilities. Suresh always keeps them handy in the lab."

Claire wasn't quite sure what to think at first. She still felt anxiety hovering in her gut though and wished more than anything to be rid of it.

"I'm trusting you!" she shouted with a smile. He inconspicuously lifted the cap from the needle and dosed her with one stick. She didn't feel any different at first. Four rounds of tequila shots later though she found herself thoroughly relaxed.

They laughed. They danced. They found a cozy dark corner with a plush couch and talked about things that didn't matter. She giggled at the butterflies that haunted her when he leaned in for a kiss.

Three more rounds of shots later she experienced what it was like to be drunk. It wasn't terrible when compared to so many of the uncontrollable moments she had had in her life, but it was strange to feel real nausea. The music was so loud and time seemed to fluctuate as people moved around them. The floor grew unstable beneath her feet as she found herself at the bar for one more drink.

Claire groped the wall to the ladies' room. Suddenly it wasn't so fun anymore. She felt weak and knew for sure that she would fall over on her face at any moment. She splashed some cold water on herself at the sink. Something was wrong and it wasn't the alcohol. She could feel it.

Rough hands grabbed her from behind and forced her chin up into the air so that her throat was exposed. She flailed, trying to fight but it was futile. There was a sting on the side of her neck like another needle and then the floor came up at her. The world went black.