It had been a full day since their attack on the Company and Claire's capture. She had been pleasantly surprised to learn the extent of the damage their work had done. Apparently the room with the generator and the control room had shared a wall. The explosion had taken out over half the agents who had been on the premises and all their computers, some of the data gone for good, though most was stored on backup servers.

She had also learned that Sylar had escaped and that knowledge couple with the fact it would take years for the company to recover some of the intel they had lost, were the only things that kept Claire's spirits up as she sat in her cell, one of the few that hadn't been destroyed.

It was exactly like the one she had found Sylar in just a week early. Three cement walls, a toilet and a cement slab for a bed, with the remaining wall being made of five-inch thick plexiglass. Completely shatterproof, they had told her. She had laughed.

Like that would stop him.

They had spent nearly sixteen of her twenty-four hours there questioning her. Almost all of it about Sylar. Why she broke him out? What had they been doing? Were they sleeping together? It was ridiculous and exhausting and she was sure the last was only to get under her skin. She hadn't allowed it to, asking the agent he was jealous. He stormed out of the room. Claire smiled.

She had certainly gained a load of confidence in the past few weeks. Even an arrogance comparable to her partner.

Another agent stepped into the room, this one different from the last, not surprisingly. He sat in one of two metal folding chairs in the center of the room, set their specifically for interrogation. He motioned for her to sit in the other, and she did, choosing to let the little things slide.

"Miss Bennet, my name is Trevor," he introduced himself, already seeming to be more polite than anyone she had encountered. She was also surprised to find he was younger than the others, probably in his mid-twenties, and attractive with brilliant green eyes, wavy brown hair, and a strong, chiseled jaw. His skin was smooth and tan, his nose straight and perfect. If they had been there under different circumstances, she would have thought he was hot. Not quite on the same level as Sylar, but still gorgeous in a boy-next-door kind of way.

"Look, I'm going level with you. They only sent me in here because they thought you'd be more receptive to someone closer to your age. But here's the thing, I read your file, I know why you did what you did and I don't want to see you get hurt," he told her, his voice smooth and calm, conveying his honesty. "So please, just answer my questions."

When she nodded, signifying she would play along, he asked his first question. "I know the answer to this one, but I need to hear you say it, so why did you choose to attack us?"

"Your Company killed my brother," she answered, her voice icy yet indifferent.

"I'm sorry," he told her, his tone soft and genuine. "Why did you release a dangerous level 5 inmate?"

"He's the only person capable of doing what I needed done."

"Given your history with him, you weren't afraid he would hurt or kill you?"

"No," she answered, but seeing he was waiting for an explanation, she continued, "Last time we met, he told me he couldn't kill me even if he wanted to."

"And you believed him?"

"He had no reason to lie."

Trevor nodded, agreeing with her statement and scribbling down the answer she provided before moving on to the next question. "Claire, I know this is personal and none of my business, but were you having an affair with Sylar?"

"Why does that matter?" Claire asked, visibly annoyed with this new line of questioning.

Trevor shrugged. "I guess they want to know how a girl like you could go for a guy that terrorized her and her family and cut her head open. They think you might've been brainwashed or something."

"I wasn't brainwashed and I wasn't sleeping with him," she lied, hoping that would be the end of their stupid questions.

"Do you love him?" Trevor questioned, staring at her intently.

"Now why does that matter?" she asked, her voice raised in slight anger.

"It doesn't matter to them," he told her, "I was just curious."

Claire's forehead creased in confusion, but answered anyway, "No and why do you care?"

"Let me help you, Claire. You don't belong here. You aren't dangerous, you're just hurt and angry and I don't want to see what happens to the others happen to you," he explained, his green eyes sparkling with sincerity.

"Thanks, but I don't need your help," she replied icily, not falling for his boyish charm for a second.

"You think he's coming for you?" he asked knowingly.

"I don't know."

*

Sylar paced the hotel room he'd call home for a little over a week. His hair was disheveled, his overall appearance haggard. His things were already packed and sitting on the floor by the door, ready for his departure.

He checked his watch. He should've already left, but his mind was at war with itself. A part of him wanted to leave, put this whole ordeal in the past, and move on with his life.

But then he would flashback to that night. He would see her beneath him, hair splayed across the pillow, eyes clouded with lust, lips red and swollen, skin flushed. He could feel her skin, feel her around him, and the worst was the words that played over and over in his head, torturing him.

That night, in that moment, he was the only thing she wanted and she accepted him. She knew who he was, knew his past, and she accepted him. The question that kept plaguing him was did he want her too? The thought of the company experimenting on her, torturing her, drove him into a murderous rage, but at the same time, he didn't want that fate for himself either.

His brain, his instincts, were telling him to run. Leave her. Let the Petrellis save her. It wasn't his fight. It wasn't his job to save her. He wasn't a hero, this wasn't the time to pretend he was.

But he was her hero. Her protector. He had promised to keep her safe and he failed. She stayed to help him when she could have run and when the roles were reversed, he ran like a coward. He left her. Failed her. She accepted him.

"Dammit!" he screamed into the empty room, his eyes scanning the room as his mind ran rampant. Until his eyes fell upon something that made his breath catch, made his thoughts stop.

There, on the bed, was the nightgown she had worn that night. The one he had taken off of her. And suddenly, nothing else mattered.

His mind was made up. He was going to save the cheerleader.

*

Five days had passed, each one as pleasant as the one before it. Claire was sitting in the same chair, facing the same man, answering the same questions. The monotony was really starting to get to her.

"Do you think he cares about you?" Trevor asked her, his notepad and pen ready to jot down whatever she said.

"No."

"But he did this with you, spent a week with you, why do you think he doesn't care?"

"Because he's Sylar." She found it was easiest to keep her answers short and simple, giving them as little information as possible while satisfying them. She had already answered all of these ridiculous questions several times before, but they wouldn't let it go.

Trevor, the Company, they seemed fascinated with the idea that she had spent a week with Sylar and survived. Even moreso when the events leading to her capture had been relayed, implying that the two may harbor feelings for each other.

She didn't feel like being a pawn in their little game, so she told them exactly what they expected to hear. Sylar was a cold-blooded killer who didn't care about anyone. She also hoped that in the off-chance he did feel like showing up, they wouldn't be expecting him.

"But he helped you," Trevor pointed out.

"Is there a question there?" Claire asked with as much disinterest as humanly possible.

"Why did he help you if he doesn't care about you?"

"It was mutually beneficial."

"Do you feel guilty for releasing a killer into the world?" Trevor asked, a hint of accusation in his voice, but a desperate need to understand in his emerald orbs.

"What do you want from me? I've already answered all these ridiculous questions a hundred times! For the last time, I wasn't fucking Sylar and we don't give a damn about each other. Let it go!" She was shouting, her body quivering in anger.

"I can't let it go because you're lying, Claire! You're words say one thing, but your actions tell an entirely different story," Trevor told her, his voice growing louder with every word. "You say you don't care about him, but you held him when he was injured, told him to run and save himself. Why would you do that if you don't give a fuck about him?"

"Because I'm human! I don't have to be fucking someone to care if they get hurt! I don't have to be in love with him to tell him to do the smart thing and get out!" she screamed, jumping from her seat and knocking the chair over in the process.

"Fine, you don't care about him. I get it. But what about him? Is he in love with you, Claire?" he asked, standing from his seat and stepping closer to her, looking down at her.

"Don't be stupid."

"What about the way he reacted when Elle had you? Do you think he'd do that if he doesn't care?"

"Yes, because he hates Elle," Claire answered, shrugging her shoulders.

Trevor let out a long sigh. He was getting nowhere and he knew it. "Damnit Claire, don't be so difficult. They're going to do whatever it takes to get answers from you and I don't want you to get hurt."

He reached out to her, putting a hand on her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her, but she shrugged it off. "Let them try."

"Claire, please. Tell me the truth," he pleaded, desperation in his tone, his voice cracking slightly.

"Not until you tell me the truth," she countered. "Why is this so important to them, really?"

Trevor sighed, defeated, "They spent years trying to find him, months trying to break him, and got nothing. They need to find his weakness, his Achilles heal, and they think it might be you."

"They want to use me against him?"

"There's more, Claire," he told her grimly. "They found out where you were staying and sent Sylar a message, testing out their new theory. They told him that if he came here, they would let you go. If not," he paused, apparently having trouble saying what he had to. "If not, they were going to cut you into pieces so you couldn't heal."

Claire recoiled, shocked by Trevor's words, and took a moment to process them. "They told Sylar that if he didn't take my place here, they would kill me? And let me guess, Sylar didn't come?"

He nodded in reply and reached out to her once again, this time successfully draping an arm over her shoulders and pulling her into an embrace. "Let me save you," he whispered into her hair.

Tears trailed down her cheek, no matter how desperately she tried to keep them from falling. She didn't know why she was crying. She didn't blame him, didn't expect him to sacrifice himself for her, but for some reason, her chest ached, as if a weight was pushing down on it, crushing her.

She was in pain and when Trevor leaned down and pressed his lips against hers, she was too surprised to push him away.

And as fate would have it, at that particular moment, alarms started blaring and the door exploded inward. It smashed into the wall just to the left of where Trevor and Claire were stand, shocking them out of their kiss.

Claire looked up at the whole where the door had been and her face went pale.

"Sylar." It came out as just a whisper, but both men heard clearly.

The color immediately drained from Trevor's face and he was silently praying Claire had been telling the truth, praying Sylar didn't care about her at all, because if he did, Trevor was as good as dead.

Claire's eyes shot from Sylar to Trevor and back again, realizing what Sylar must be thinking and not being able to look away from the pain clouding the dark eyes she had come to love.

Before Claire could utter another syllable, Trevor was thrown against the wall, grasping at his throat, his legs wriggling uselessly under him. Claire gasped in shock and fear and ran to Sylar, grabbing his arms when she reached him.

"Sylar, I'm sorry. Please let him go. I'm so sorry. It's not what you think," she was babbling, almost incoherently, tears now streaming down her face.

Sylar stood, unmoving, murder in his eyes as he glared at the man dangling from the wall, caught in his invisible grasp. "I should've left you here," he finally said, so coldly Claire shivered.

Trevor whimpered behind her and she raised a hand to Sylar's face, cupping his cheek and forcing him to look at her. "Sylar, it was a mistake. I made a mistake, I'm human and I'm sorry. I thought you didn't care about me, and I was hurt, but I don't care about him, I don't feel anything for him."

"Then you won't care if I kill him," Sylar stated, using her words against her as he squeezed his fist together tighter.

"Sylar, don't do it. I know you're better than this. I've seen the good in you," she argued, hoping to get through to him in time.

"You're wrong, Claire," he screamed at her, losing concentration and dropping Trevor to the floor. His head turned suddenly, hearing the guards heading towards them, and from the sound of it, a lot of them. Sylar grabbed Claire's wrist and pulled her out of the room, "We have to get out of here. Now."

Claire didn't need anymore persuasion; she followed after him, her hand still in his. They raced down the familiar hallway, ducking gunfire as they did until they reached the staircase. Sylar blew through the door, once again utilizing his favorite ability, and they raced through it, bullets still coming at them and one catching Claire in her thigh.

She fell to the floor, hard, clutching her leg and waiting for it to start healing. "We don't have time for this," Sylar told her before scooping her up from the floor and charging up the stairs.

They didn't stop running until they reached the motorcycle, where they took a brief moment to catch their breath before hopping on the bike and taking off.

Miles of road were between them and Primatech before Claire realized they weren't being followed. Maybe they finally decided it was more trouble than they were worth. Or perhaps they were simply going to bide their time and wait for a more opportune moment. Claire didn't care the reason, she was happy for the moment's peace.

The ride was calming, the sound of the engine the only one they could hear while the wind whipped against them, like an invisible blanket.

Claire knew it was the calm before the storm.

She decided to enjoy it, she didn't know if she'd ever get the chance again, so she held tighter to Sylar, feeling the hardness of his chest beneath her hands, and rested her face against his back.

He seemed to not even notice as he drove.

After what seemed like an eternity, Claire felt them slowing down and eventually stopping. She looked up to see they were in the middle of nowhere, a field to the left, another to the right and no people or buildings in sight for miles. Anyone else would have been terrified. She was just prepared.

Without turning around or getting off the bike, he said, "Get off."

Claire suddenly realized she wasn't as prepared as she originally thought. She was stunned. "Are you seriously going to take my motorcycle and leave me here?"

"I'm not going to fight with you. Just get off," he told her, managing to keep his voice relatively calm.

Claire, on the other hand, let her anger show, once again wrapping her arms around his chest and throwing them both to the ground. She landed on top of him, straddling his hips, and reared back her fist, hoping to connect with his nose but instead finding her wrist locked in his grip.

"How can you be so mean? How can you just leave me here?" she screamed at him, jerking her wrist from his grasp and climbing to her feet. She turned her back on him, refusing to let him see that she was crying yet again.

He rushed to his and grabbed her, spinning her around until they were face to face, "I'm mean? Claire, I risked everything to save you from that place and I find you kissing one of them. How do you think that makes me feel?" He was screaming at her. Actually screaming and it was the greatest show of emotion she'd ever witnessed from him. She would have been touched at how much she affected him if she weren't so damn pissed off.

"I don't know how it makes you feel because I'm not a telepath! I don't know what you think or what you feel and you sure as hell won't tell me!" She was in a rage.

So was he. "Damn it Claire, I don't know what I feel and unfortunately telepathy isn't one of my skills either, but seeing your tongue in some other guy's mouth is a good indication of how you feel."

"I told you I didn't care about him, why can't you listen to me?"

"Because you're just a girl who thought it would be fun to play with a killer for a few days. You're so fucking clueless and naïve you can't even see what's right in front of you. I was wrong about you, you're still just a child." It was low, especially for him, he was never one to resort to petty insults, but he was so angry, he couldn't think properly.

"I'm a child?! Does that make you a pedophile then? Because you didn't have any problems with it the other night. What is it I'm missing that's right in front of me? Is it that you're an asshole who spent the week trying to sleep with me and when I finally gave it up, you're done with me?" She regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth. She was angry, yes, and he was certainly acting like an asshole, but she knew that out of everything he had done, he had not used her for sex. In fact, he had risked his freedom to save her and she was the one who betrayed him.

He didn't even dignify it with a response, he just turned and headed for the bike. She was torn between letting him go and saying the one thing she hoped would make him stay.

"Sylar, I love you."

Silence filled the gap between them, torturing Claire as she held her breath, waiting for his response. Seconds felt like hours before he finally spoke.

"Don't do this, Claire. Don't say things you don't mean just because you're scared. You might think I'm a monster, but I'm still a man," he sounded so defeated, Claire's heart ached and his words cut her to the bone.

"You're not a monster. You're a good man."

He finally turned, facing her but not meeting her eyes. "You're wrong, Claire. The only good in me is you."

His words struck her like nothing before ever had and she decided to tell him the truth. The whole truth. "Sylar, at first, I didn't think you were capable of redemption. I hated you, hated being around you and felt guilty for setting you free. But then I got to know you, the real you and I saw that you are so much more than what anyone knows. And I started falling for you, but I fought it. Hating myself for caring about someone who tried to hurt me, who killed so many people. The other night, I realized it didn't matter. None of it matters because when I'm with you, you're the only thing I care about. And that night, what we had, it was special, it meant something."

She let out a long sigh after finishing her short narrative, praying that he could forgive her, love her, and want to be with her. He slowly raised his head until his eyes finally found hers, searching them and finding overwhelming emotion hiding in her blue eyes. Finally, his feet began moving, taking determined steps towards her and when he got there, he buried his fingers in her hair, and pulled her to him forcefully.

When their lips met, the world melted away. All Claire could feel was his lips against hers, his hands on her skin and the love that consumed them.

Love.

It wasn't an alien feeling to Claire, but love like this, passionately breath-taking and all consuming, that was new. And it was welcome. She knew the road in front of them would be a long one, filled with struggle and pain, but as long as they had each other, the world around them didn't matter. Everything would be okay.

She would cling to that ideal like it was her lifeline in the coming days. Even if it was just a thinly veiled illusion she created to keep a semblance of normalcy.

A/N: This isn't the end, but I'm not entirely sure where I want to go from here. Just a warning that there may be a little wait for the next chapter.