A Note From Lara: I have no A/N, except to say that I'm basically parodying Sylaire as best I can in this chapter.
Peter touched down in front of the sorority house he was pretty sure Claire was living in now. He walked inside, making a point to avoid the security cameras, because the last thing he needed was the FBI getting involved in this mess he had managed to drop himself into.
Each of the rooms had a plaque on the door listing the names of the girls living inside. He rapped gently on the one labeled "Claire and Gretch," but there was no answer. Using a little bit of telekinesis, he jimmied the lock and pushed the door open.
A few seconds later, he deeply wished he hadn't. Now, Peter had no problem with homosexuals, but seeing his favorite niece passionately kissing her roommate was just a little bit too much information.
"Uh... Claire?" he said hesitantly, politely covering his eyes with his hand until the soft moans fell silent.
For a moment, Claire just stared at him, face a little flushed from Gretchen's attentions. Then she shrieked unintelligibly at him. Peter wasn't sure what she'd said, since she'd said it in a range only dogs could hear, but he could have sworn it sounded like "OhmygodSylarSylarSylarSylarbaby!!!!"
Exactly three seconds later, she had launched herself at him and was showering him with less-than-chaste kisses. "Claire!" he exclaimed. "What are you doing? Why are you kissing me... er, Sylar? What about... uh... Gretchen?" He nodded in the direction of the confused-looking brunette.
His obvious confusion brought Claire to her senses. Or at least, she took a step back, but there was still a look of passionate longing in her eyes. "Oh Gabby, don't you remember what we promised each other in that suite in the capitol building?" she asked pleadingly. "You told me that you would never want to spend eternity with anybody else, that I was the only one for you. Way better than that electric whore who was more deeply involved in turning you into the man you are than I ever will be!"
Peter was torn between morbid curiosity and revulsion. "Claire, I'm not Sylar," he said gently. "I'm Peter."
Claire gasped. "Oh baby, what have they done to you?" she demanded, throwing her arms around him. "Sylar, you're the only person who's never lied to me! I can't survive without you to complete me! Tell me, what did they do to you to make you think you're Peter? Let me help you. Let me fix you like you fixed me!"
He stared at her. "Uh, Claire, Sylar was the one who broke you, remember? He assaulted you and sliced your head open and essentially brain-raped you! Because of him you can't feel pain!"
"Yes, but you were the one who showed me the person I could be! You unlocked my true potential as a murderess and a twisted vigilante of the future! I have committed so many wrongs all out of my longing for you!" Claire insisted, completely ignoring the goggle-eyed Gretchen who was trying to get her attention by tugging on her hand.
"..."
Peter vacated the premises quickly before he could get any more confused/grossed-out than he already was.