This chapter covers the end of Resurgence's ch1 and most of ch2, after which I'll begin skipping around a little. The next update will most likely start with Claire's first day at Forks High and either a flashback of the rest of Peter and Claire's weekend or just a brief overview.
Part IV: Saving Bella
Peter & Claire – Newton's Olympic Outfitters, Saturday night
When Sylar walked into Newton's, Claire sprang out of her car and started after him. "Crap," Peter muttered before following her, darting in front of her and catching her by the shoulders. "Claire, hang on a minute!"
Her blue eyes were cold as ice chips; he only had to look into them to know she had no intention of hanging on for even a nanosecond, but she told him so anyway. "No! I'm going to stop him – let go of me!" She struggled and would probably have succeeded in escaping Peter's hold if he wasn't stronger than the average human. As it was, he kept her from moving an inch. "Let go!" she insisted again.
"If I let go, what're you gonna do?"
Claire looked at him like he was crazy. "Stop Sylar! That's what we're here for, isn't it?"
Peter took a deep breath and tried reasoning with her. "No, we're here to save Sylar's next victim. There're lots of other people in that store, so he's not likely to attack her in there, is he? Is he, Claire?" She reluctantly shook her head no. "So the girl's safe till she walks out. Run in and start throwing punches at Sylar now, and you'll get yourself arrested! We'll wait for him to make the first move – that way if anyone sees us take him down we'll have a good reason. And the girl can back us up, if she will," he added, realizing it might not be a bad idea to have their story corroborated by an outside party.
"She will," Claire said confidently. "Someone saving your life makes you pretty danged grateful – I should know. Okay fine, your plan sounds better than mine."
"I just want to make sure we don't end up in jail for saving this girl. I'd rather not go there again – so we wait."
Two hours later
Sylar stood in a corner of the parking lot where the shadows were deepest, fists clenching and relaxing in an impatient rhythm as he waited for the store's lights to go off, for his prey to emerge. Ever since he'd walked out of the store without buying anything – earning a dirty look from the boy manning the checkout counter – he'd been fighting an urge to go back in and keep an eye on the girl. In fact, he'd been fighting that urge since she left him in the tent aisle; watching her walk away, it had been so tempting to call her back, pull her back…
…But he couldn't. If he hadn't let her leave that instant, he couldn't have stopped himself from finishing it then and there – finishing her. Soon, he told himself, soon I'll have her, and when I do… He wouldn't creep up behind her and take her completely by surprise; it would be kinder, but he wasn't going to be kind to this one. She'd kept him waiting too long, and during that time the memory of how his intuition couldn't tell him one damn thing about her had tormented him, building his hunger for her almost past endurance.
Even though that wasn't actually her fault, she would pay for it. Sylar was already imagining how he would catch Bella Swan when she walked out of Newton's and, like a cat toying with a helpless mouse before eating it, pin her so that she would have to face him as he sliced into her forehead, look into his eyes and read his murderous intent there so that her last seconds would be pure terror… Picturing it nearly made his mouth water.
The fantasy was interrupted before his favorite part – the part where he opened Bella's head and scooped her brain out the way people scooped out a pumpkin's insides before carving it into a jack-o'-lantern – by the ringing of that stupid little bell over the store's entrance. Sylar glared at the door, but his angry expression changed to a predatory grin as his prey came out – with that utterly worthless punk who'd talked to her earlier and scowled at Sylar as he made his exit.
Her boyfriend? Sylar listened to the boy's cheerful "Bye Bella" with disgust; he was so ordinary he barely belonged in the same room as her. If she's got no better taste than him she certainly doesn't deserve to be so special even I can't understand her!
Bella waved as the boy roared out of the parking lot in a minivan only a soccer mom could love, then headed for an ancient fossil of a truck that, in Sylar's opinion, only a blind person could love. Smiling in anticipation, he strode forward to begin making his fantasy a reality. Step one was telekinetically freezing her feet mid-stride, causing her to lose her balance; the fall wasn't meant to hurt her badly, just to give her a small taste of the pain she'd feel very soon. If she happened to realize that she hadn't simply tripped over something and felt some precursory alarm, that was even better.
It seemed to have worked; Sylar could tell Bella was rattled by the way she shuddered when he spoke, although it might have been because she recognized his voice. He thought she'd sensed something disturbing in him earlier. "Hello Bella. I thought that guy would never leave, but it's lucky for him that he did, and for me; now I can forget about dealing with him and skip straight to what I came for."
She looked over her shoulder at him, letting him see the panic written all over her face. "What do you want? I don't have any money!" Her voice was the frightened cry of an animal caught in a trap, powerless to save itself – so pitifully weak that Sylar couldn't bite back a quiet laugh when he heard it.
"That's not what I want from you, Bella Swan." Normally brains were the only thing he actually touched, and any other 'contact' with his prey was via telekinesis, but he made an exception for Bella, pulling her roughly off the ground by her arm – he'd waited so long for this that he wanted to take his time, really savor it. It's good to be myself again, he decided as he drew his finger across her forehead a bit slower than usual, smiling at her agonized scream…
The moment was over all too soon, abruptly ended by something – no, someone – crashing into Sylar, breaking his concentration and his metaphysical hold on Bella. She could have run away then – Sylar was in no position to stop her, distracted by the person who had body-slammed him and was now hitting every inch of him she could get her hands on. He grabbed a fistful of his assailant's long hair and jerked her off-balance; she stumbled against him and he forced her head back, determined to see the face of whoever had dared get between him and his prey.
"Claire?" His rage was somewhat dampened by astonishment – he'd thought he was done with the cheerleader.
"Surprised to see me, huh?" she spat, trying to throw him off despite the fact that she clearly wouldn't be able to.
Peter had hung back momentarily because he knew Claire wouldn't be satisfied until she'd gotten her licks in but kept his eyes on her, ready to step in at the first sign that she was in over her head. Now he tore Sylar's hands off and hurled him away from her. Sylar recovered instantly thanks to his stolen healing power, starting to get up much faster than he should have been able to; Peter kicked him in the ribs, knocking him onto his back and holding him there with a foot on his chest.
Sylar couldn't push him off – physically, Peter outmatched him – but he could pack a formidable telekinetic punch. In a second the situation was reversed: Peter was the one down and Sylar was poised to cut into his forehead…only to be thwarted for the second time that night.
During Peter's last conversation with her dad, Claire had taken the opportunity to sneak into Noah Bennet's closet, pilfer a taser, and hide it in her luggage with neither him nor her uncle any the wiser. Now she whipped it out of her jacket's inside pocket and discharged it at the base of Sylar's skull. He fell to the ground, knocked out cold.
Claire glanced around, wavering between making sure Peter was okay – though he had her ability so she knew he should be – pounding on Sylar some more, or checking on the girl he'd attacked, who had collapsed when Sylar released her. She vividly remembered the day she'd asked her biological mother for combat training, Meredith's persistent questioning about the motives behind her request, her insistence that she wanted to learn to fight so she could help people until finally, suffocating as Meredith's pyrokinesis burned away all her oxygen, she'd broken down and admitted she really just wanted to take her revenge on Sylar.
Now she had a chance to do exactly that; Sylar was down for the count, unable to resist…she could do whatever she wanted to him, maybe even fry his brain with her taser so that he wouldn't heal… But her gaze seemed inexorably drawn to his victim instead. Another memory seized her: the first night Sylar (and Peter) entered her life and Sylar, mistaking Claire's ex-friend Jackie for the super-powered cheerleader he was after, scalped her while Claire fled.
She'd always felt some guilt over that, mostly because Jackie wouldn't have died if Sylar hadn't confused her with Claire – although she'd brought that on herself by taking credit for Claire's rescuing that man from the train wreck – but also because she hadn't tried to help Jackie at all. Of course there was nothing she could have done then, but now maybe she could help this girl. So maybe I really am more interested in helping people than in hurting Sylar. The realization surprised her.
Pausing just long enough to get Peter's assurance that he would deal with Sylar, Claire sprinted toward the other girl before she could change her mind. The girl's face was covered in blood from the cut that stretched halfway across her forehead, her body motionless apart from the odd twitching shiver; she didn't seem to notice when Claire knelt beside her.
Maybe I'm too late – maybe she's already… The same feeling of helplessness Claire had experienced while watching Jackie die right in front of her paralyzed her brain. She turned the girl's face up and swiped at the blood on her eyelids, hoping they might open. When she didn't respond Claire shook her shoulder and shouted at her, "Hey, wake up! Come on, he can't have had time to cut through more than skin, you can't be dead – wake up, please!"
At long last her eyelids fluttered open, revealing widely dilated pupils surrounded by the thin dark rings of her irises. Claire sighed in relief and smiled although she wasn't one hundred percent convinced the other girl was actually seeing her – those glazed eyes kept sliding in and out of focus. She might still die right now! Haven't I read something about people slipping into comas after getting a head injury and dying later? I should probably try to keep her awake, talk to her or something…right?
"You're safe now, you'll be okay," Claire promised, trying to make her voice reassuring. "It's just a little cut; you'll be fine in no t-" She broke off as the girl's shivering grew more violent and her teeth chattered loudly. "Here, let's get you off the ground; it's too cold for you to lie on."
The brunette seemed to agree but made no move to get up, so Claire tried to move her only to find that she couldn't lift the other girl's dead weight. "I'm sorry, you're too heavy for me. Just, um, wait right here for a minute, and I'll get help, all right?" Peter would be able to move her; Claire looked around for him and found him with Sylar, one hand on the unconscious serial killer's forehead.
Claire remembered the Haitian touching his victims' foreheads exactly the same way when he removed their memories and allowed herself a moment of vindictive satisfaction – maybe Peter could take all Sylar's memories, leave him a blank slate like Brody – before calling Peter's attention to the girl. "Peter, aren't you done yet? I need help with her."
"Just a second, Claire…" he muttered, double-checking to make absolutely sure there was nothing remaining in Sylar's memory that could bring him back to Forks. "There, I think that's everything; we should be fine now." He teleported Sylar away – very far away – then turned his attention to Claire. "What were you saying?"
Under cover of darkness, Claire rolled her eyes. "The girl we came here to help, Peter! She's bleeding all over the place and can't seem to move on her own, and I couldn't get her up, and…would you just get over here and do something?!"
He took in the girl's bloody face, the way she'd flopped back against her truck's tire like a rag doll, and wondered whether she was truly still alive and for how much longer. If she did succumb to her injury or shock in the next few minutes he didn't want Claire to see it and so dispatched her to their car for a flashlight, which he'd need anyway if he could still treat the girl.
Peter crouched down beside her to get a better look but couldn't detect any motion in her chest; her skin was the palest he'd ever seen, her lips slowly turning blue. She's dead all right, he decided, though there was something strange – the top of her head was still attached, so why would she have died? He pressed his fingertips to the wound on her forehead and nearly jumped out of his skin when the girl he'd thought was dead whimpered at his touch.
The moment passed quickly, and then he got back to business. "Relax, I'm not hurting you. I know this doesn't feel good, but I've had worse. I'm Peter, by the way. Can you tell me your name?"
Her teeth were chattering too hard for her to speak clearly but she managed to stammer out, "I-I'm Bella S-Swan."
Bella Swan – well, it's nice to finally be able to put a name to her. Claire returned with a flashlight before he had time to form any more thoughts on Bella Swan; seeing her face in better light, however, gave him an impression that she must be an easy bleeder – she really had lost a lot of blood for someone who'd sustained nothing worse than a flesh wound.
Before Peter and Claire had left the Bennets' house, Noah had insisted on giving them a first aid kit 'just in case'. Neither of them had wanted to take it, seeing no point since they never got hurt; yet Noah had insisted, saying they never knew what might happen later. Dad was right, Claire thought ruefully as she hurried off to fetch it. Someday I'll learn to stop questioning him…except about working with Sylar.
Meanwhile, Peter pulled Bella off the cold ground and discovered to his dismay that she was almost completely limp. She wasn't exactly unmanageable, just sort of all over the place – holding her up was like wrestling with Jell-O. "Why c-can't I st-" she started to ask.
"Stand up on your own?" Peter finished for her. "You're having a mild case of shock, and you need to warm up. Do you mind if I put you in your truck, since we're closer to it?"
"S-S-Sure, it's unl-locked. Go ah-head."
He was taken aback – leaving one's car unlocked was unheard of in Manhattan – but perhaps people in Forks were more trustworthy. Or perhaps Bella just wasn't worried about anyone stealing her truck – because really, who would want to? Peter wrapped one arm securely under both of Bella's, opened the truck's door with his free hand – wincing as its hinges screeched in protest – maneuvered her onto the driver's seat, and took the key from her trembling hand. Once he'd turned on the heater she huddled next to it, drew herself into as tight a ball as she could and sat there shaking, her teeth still clacking together.
Not particularly wanting to get in that truck with the heat on full blast, Peter leaned on its open door and attempted to be discreet as he observed Bella. Seeing her in person for the first time, he found her underwhelming. It wasn't like him to think harshly of somebody he had just met, which bothered him – or maybe it was Bella herself that bothered him.
His precog powers had focused so intensely on her that he'd expected…something. Maybe not for her to be another Sylar in the making, or even another Ted Sprague with some potentially devastating power, but then why were he and Claire meant to save her? Claire…she was the only other person whose destiny had become entwined with his like this, and there'd been a reason for that: she had turned out to be his niece, and then there was the whole 'save the cheerleader, save the world' thing.
What reason was there for rescuing Bella, for relocating to Forks just because it was where she happened to live? Had saving her saved the world, or what? What is so special about Bella Swan anyway? It wasn't the first time Peter had wondered about that – nor, he suspected, would it be the last…
It's not explicitly stated so in case anyone wonders – Peter erased every memory Sylar had that related to Bella or Forks in any way as well the ones of how to use his powers (although he wasn't as thorough with that part so you can be pretty much assured that Sylar WILL regain full mastery of his abilities in time… unfortunately… but not of Bella).
Then Peter teleported him away without going with him the same way Future Peter did Matt Parkman; if you want to know where he sent Sylar, it was the Amazon rainforest. I'm not sure whether Sylar met Zafrina, Senna, and Kachiri there, but as far as him getting eaten up by mosquitoes? Yeah, that's a given. And I don't know if Claire's power extends to itchy bug bites.
