Author shenanigans: So I have many things to apologize for. First, my disappearance. I could tell you I was kidnapped by foreign spies, shipped to Antarctica, and transformed into the next Terminator via robotic experimentation, but I don't think that would fly so well. Actually, life just got really busy for a while. A long while. School, job, finals, extracurricular activities kind of put this story on the backburner. And I'm sorry. Plus, as I was reviewing my old chapters to make sure this chapter is as consistent as possible, I realized my dividers that I had put in place when perspectives shift or I go to a dream sequence or something didn't work and were not present. So I am sorry if that confused anyone. I will probably not fix it. Sorry.

And I'm done! So, here's the next chapter. I shouldn't be too long in updating the next one as I have already written half of it. I'm sorry if this isn't consistent/not as good/didn't live up to your expectations/wasn't worth the wait. It's another bridge chapter to more action-y stuff.

Okay. Done. Thank you for sticking with me, reviewing, reading, etc. I really, really appreciate, and I will try to reciprocate with more updates!

Chapter 10. Negotiation

Emma was not a morning person.

It had always been one of her least favorite times of the day because she never woke to the sounds of birds chirping or an annoying alarm clock, never woke in the arms of a lover...

Until now.

She heard the quiet rustling of some passersby and some laughter.

She smiled. Then, she felt the warm solid body behind her, arms wrapped around her middle, the deep scent of cologne filling her nostrils.

However, she also felt the hand groping her chest in a rather intimate way.

She gasped, and that's when Peter woke with a start, realizing his position and practically rocketing to the opposite side of the tent they'd been confined to in seconds. Poor Emma remained on the ground confused as can be.

"Oh Jesus, Emma, I'm sorry. I didn't...I didn't even mean to-" he stumbled over his words, face a bright tomato red as he refused to meet her gaze. (Geez, this is why he never had sex. EVER.)

First, she was shocked and a little nervous, feeling that they had taken a step too far, whether it was intentional or not. Then, though, she observed his tinged face, his jittery hands and obvious guilt, and she couldn't help but to smile. Emma slowly stood up, careful to take steps towards him. She took each of his hands in hers, soothing them with gentle rubbing. He stared at the gesture unable to speak. She slithered her arms around him and hugged her head to his chest.

"It's okay," she whispered as he cautiously returned her affections. "It was an accident."

He released a sigh of relief. "I'm sorry." And kissed her head.

She grinned. "I know."

They were quiet for a while, locked in an embrace that they didn't want to end.

Sadly, it had to.

"We have to go find Claire," Emma murmured softly.

"Claire," Peter repeated, a spark in his memory ignited as he pulled away from her. "Emma, what Samuel said last night about me and Claire..."

She lifted a hand, stopping him before he could start. "I know. She explained everything."

He nodded, brow furrowed. "And?"

"It's okay," she answered. "Now let's go find your niece."

Peter was still confounded. "What happened to her last night?"

Emma grimaced, remembering all too well. "You don't want to know."

Claire had to admit it: she was kind of hot.

She stood with her hands on her hips, gazing at her reflection in the mirror. Her hair had thankfully grown back to a decent length, and with nothing else to wear in the vicinity, she threw on the garment Sylar had left for her. It shouldn't have surprised her that it was a skimpy thing coming from the creep, but the outfit left very little to the imagination.

She wore fishnet tights and tight leather boots that reach mid-thigh. If that wasn't bad enough, her upper half was only covered by a black leotard with v-neck slit that almost showed her belly button, and her entire back was revealed, only covering her bottom. There were decorative rhinestones all over and matching gloves that she slid on and to top it all off, a pin-striped fedora.

She felt very burlesque, sexy almost...No, no, no, Claire told herself. Not sexy. Not cute even. Just gross. She'd have to parade around in the getup for an unprecedented amount of time, stuck at the stupid carnival and forced to perform for ogling eyes. This outfit was NOT a good thing. Nope. No. Not at all.

And yet, Claire couldn't help but to strike a few poses, imagining the announcer.

"Presenting...the INDESTRUCTIBLE GIIIIRRRRLLLLL!"

She lifted her arms in presentation, taking a low bow. She smiled to her make believe audience.

Her stomach replied with a loud growl. When had she last eaten?

Claire scanned the room for something, anything else to clothe herself with, refusing to sit before Sylar or Samuel or anyone else in the outfit for breakfast. However there was no other clothing in her tent. She tightened her fists. Stupid bastard took her clothes.

Her stomach continuing to bother her and a newfound anger to follow, she exited her tent, heading towards the large dining area.

There were many things no one knew about Sylar.

That he still listened to clocks and watches, mentally fixing them in his head.

That he wasn't very fond of coffee but actually preferred tea.

And that, despite all childish stereotypes, he loved waffles, which is why after harassing Claire had put him in a good mood, he was almost ecstatic at the sight of waffles on the long dining table with all the carnies crowded around it, smiling, chattering, joking, except when his presence became known.

All grew still, quiet, except for Samuel's grinning face at the head of the table.

"Sylar!" he exclaimed cheerfully, jolting everyone. "Come join us!" He gestured to a seat beside him, and Sylar followed the prompting, sliding onto the bench while a pale young woman clad in black shied away from him to the side. He tried to ignore the stiffness with which everyone moved thereafter, but it was a hard thing to not notice.

Suddenly, Sylar felt exhausted. All the weight of the night's events fell on him (car chasing, being killed by Samuel, making out with Lydia, rescuing Claire...), and his shoulders visibly sagged. He couldn't believe how much had happened in one day. He remembered exactly how he felt 24 hours ago: angry, bloodthirsty, vengeful. But, now, after Lydia told him he didn't want to be alone and showed him the tattoo on her arm, everything had shifted. It wasn't even a huge shift, just a tiny one, like the earth was tilted a little to the left, snapping everything into a different perspective.

And now, he was tired.

"Would you please pass me some waffles?" he asked the girl next to him.

The fear in her eyes was just slightly amusing as her shaking hands found the waffle plate and slowly offered it to him. He smiled as politely as he knew how and gave himself a heavy serving, dousing his breakfast in syrup. He paid no heed to Samuel, who aimlessly rambled at him about the carnival and the day's festivities. He ignored the long stares and a few glares. He tuned out the whispering.

That is, until it wasn't directed at him.

Sylar happened to look up and see every head turned to the opposite end of the table, where Claire stood, hands on her hips looking quite defiant.

And, he had to add as he eyed her up and down, she was looking quite attractive.

Especially with her furious gaze on him.

He smirked, feeling a little less extinguished.

"Something wrong, Claire bear?"

He enjoyed how her lip curled ever so slightly in disgust. He was also relieved that something had carried on with him from the previous day: his absolute joy in tormenting Claire.

"Where the hell did you put all my clothes?" she snapped.

He chuckled, wiping his lips with a napkin to hide his grin. "Well, Claire, I had to make some space for myself, seeing as how we're going to be roomies and all-"

The way her green eyes grew to saucers was classic. Her mouth hung open as though she planned to say something but couldn't figure how to form the words. She turned to Samuel in her desperation, who to her misfortune was just as amused as Sylar.

"Samuel...you can't be serious...surely that's against some sort of..." She grasped for anything. "...code of honor?"

Samuel's smile became thin lipped as he felt a twinge of guilt for placing her in the situation—but it was only a twinge. "Sorry, Claire," he offered, raising his hands and shrugging. "We made a deal...and you happened to be the main negotiation."

Sylar couldn't contain his laughter as Claire's face grew red with fury. He knew she would hate being referred to as some sort of property, and he delighted in it. She was practically shaking, which only made him picture a chihuahua, which then became her Pomeranian, making the scene even more humorous to him.

Of course, his fun had to come to an end.

"Claire!"

The shout of relief was from the concerned uncle himself as he trotted up behind Claire, Emma in tow. He wrapped her in an overbearingly protective hug, subsiding her anger, but as he pulled away and took in her clothing, she was quickly reminded.

"Claire, what the hell are you wearing?" he quipped, shrugging off his jacket and throwing it over her skimpy attire. Claire gratefully took it, hugging the article closer to her body, suddenly feeling more uncomfortable than she had the entire morning.

"I'm the Indestructible Girl," was her only answer.

Bewildered, Peter turned to the audience of carnies before his eyes focused on his enemy. They grew ten shades darker, hands curling into fists while Sylar smiled flirtatiously and gave a little wave. Samuel immediately sensed the tension and rose.

"Now, children, children, it's breakfast time," he proclaimed, gesturing for Peter to calm himself. "Let's all just sit down and have a bite before we get into any of that business." He motioned to carnies on either side of him, and they swiftly took their breakfasts elsewhere, clearing space for the newcomers. Hesitantly, Claire, Peter, and Emma glanced at another before taking their seats next to Samuel and across from Sylar.

"Good kids," Samuel chirped as he sat down, taking a bite of waffles to end the discussion.

"All that fighting and not a scratch on ya, Pete," Sylar commented as Peter was reluctantly attempting to graciously receive his breakfast across from his arch nemesis. "I'm relieved actually. I wouldn't want to mar that perfect complexion."

"Would you shut up?" Claire bit back, irritated as she slammed waffles onto her plate. "Can't we enjoy waffles in peace?"

Sylar barely heard her words as the jacket she wore fell open, revealing a large portion of her body to him. She followed his eyes and blushed, hugging the protection tighter around her. He smirked, enjoying her squirming.

"Say Pete, did Claire tell you we're going to be sharing a tent?" he questioned. Peter visibly stiffened as Sylar's grin widened. "Yeah. It's all part of the deal of me staying here."

Peter nearly snarled. "You will not lay a hand on her or I swear-"

"What, Pete? Jealous much?"

And just as abruptly as the quiet, chaos ensued.

Peter leapt across the table with a loud yell, hands wrapping around Sylar's neck. Claire and Emma were both on their feet in seconds. Peter was on top of Sylar, fingers wringing the breath from him. The girls stood watching, unsure of how to act while Samuel simply rolled his eyes, but made no comment, letting Peter to choke the man.

"You son of bitch..." he muttered. "I don't know what deal you made, and I don't care. You will not be anywhere near my niece as long as I am around to kick your ass."

Sylar, though he couldn't breathe, laughed. Actually laughed.

But, it was Samuel who replied.

"Be careful what you wish for, Peter."

That was a distraction enough for Peter to loosen his grip, but as he looked back at Sylar, who was still cackling like a hyena, he clenched his jaw tightly, leaning in to growl, "Stay away from her." And with that, he let him go, standing and returning to his family.

Sylar quickly rebounded and found his seat to finish his waffles, still happy as a clam.

Samuel followed suit. "Well, now that that's done with, let's eat!"

It was late evening as Peter wandered through the carnival, which was still brilliant with colors and boisterous with the sounds of screaming and laughter. So much had taken place in one day, he wasn't quite sure how to absorb it.

First, there was the breakfast fiasco, which of course ended with him bitterly stuffing waffles in his mouth. Then, he was assigned a trailer to share with Emma (to their blustering embarrassment) which Samuel claimed was their "personal hospitality for as long as they chose to stay." At which point, Claire pulled him aside and filled him in on some important information.

"I don't trust Samuel," she had whispered in the confines of his trailer. "There's something off about him. You should be careful."

"Claire, then let's leave," Peter had replied earnestly. "You can just leave, maybe go away with my mom for a while or something."

"No, Peter," she snapped. "I'm not running." And though she tried, she couldn't hide the fear in her voice. "Regardless, I don't think that leaving is an option for me anymore..."

His brow furrowed. "And why not?"

Her lip trembled. "We know Samuel and Sylar made some kind of deal involving me. There's only two other things I know: the deal had something to do with Sylar working for Samuel, but it also had to do with Sylar basically...getting me."

He released a long steady breath. "Claire, that's not going to stop me-"

She shook her head. "But it will get you killed. Peter, you're my hero, and I love you. I'm not going to let you throw yourself out there to the most powerful superhuman wolves on the planet."

And their argument had ended.

Peter hadn't been able to find Sylar afterward, which was probably a good thing, so now he had to turn to Samuel.

He knocked on the carney's trailer door, and after some rustling and a crash, the man appeared looking as mystical as ever. He bore a huge grin. "Hello Peter! Come in, come in!"

Peter followed him inside, closing the door behind him. Samuel cleared an area of a small shabby table and pulled up folding chairs. Peter took one and waited as Samuel took the other.

"Something you need to talk about, Peter?" he asked, heading straight for the point.

"Claire," Peter answered. "I'm leaving tomorrow morning, and I'm taking her with me."

Samuel still looking as kindly as ever abruptly stood. "Ah! Where are my manners?" he exclaimed. "Can I get you anything to drink?"

Peter gave him the deadliest, filthiest, most rotten look he could muster.

"...I take that as a no."

"No," Peter snarled.

"Easy boy," Samuel retorted heaving a long sigh as he sat rubbing his temples while he contemplated. "Look, Peter, the thing is Claire is a valuable to the carnival, and I'd really like to at least keep her around for a few acts, so she can get a taste of what she could have."

Peter arched an eyebrow, disbelieving every word. "And Sylar has nothing to do with this?"

"Oh he does," Samuel answered. "Yes. See, I also have a goal in mind, and Sylar can help me reach that goal. Claire is something he wants that happened to be under my wing at the time, so he took the offer."

"She's not a piece of property," he spat. "She's my niece."

"I know, I know," he replied. "And I wouldn't dream of treating her as anything else. But right now, we need her for our cause."

"And what cause is that?"

Samuel grinned easily, so sure of his next sentence.

"To save the world, Peter."

There was a pause for consideration.

Samuel had thrown the bait, but Peter didn't bite.

"We're leaving tomorrow. And she will be staying in my trailer."

He rose, satisfied and ready to leave, but Samuel reacted quicker. Before he knew it, Peter was slammed against the wall, feet several inches of the ground as Samuel held him up by his neck. He gagged, unable to breathe.

"Listen," Samuel whispered, all traces of the kind warmth gone, leaving nothing but the cold carney. "I don't think you realize that Sylar is the only thing standing between Claire and her death. She's an asset to the cause but an expendable one. And if you do anything to hurt my cause, I'll kill her. And your little girlfriend."

Peter was sputtering, his words burning his ears.

And suddenly his world went dark.

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