Thanks Everyone for sticking it out with me! :) I have had amazing support. Shout Out to SophisticatedFangirling.
I do not own Heroes.
6 years later...
Location: New York City
Peter swallowed nervously as the waitress brusquely handed him a menu and he hid his face behind it. She didn't even glance in his direction, chewing on her gum loudly, mentioning the special pie of the day. Her tone was half-monotone and half-bored. Peter simply nodded to her, not showing his face. The waitress shuffled off without taking a drink order from Peter. Normally, that would bother any paying customer, but Peter relaxed at the treatment.
She didn't take any notice of him and he wanted it that way.
The seedy, dingy and shady diner provided a perfect spot to meet other Specials in hiding. It gave away no hideouts or base camps. It was nestled in a deep alley of Queens, with only a convenient store and a Planned Parenthood stationed around it.
Governments tended to search for fugitives and terrorists in more appealing locations. Locations that didn't remind them of the work they should be doing for their nation. The poor and helpless were a decent, temporary shield. There was one downside. Desperate people are also willing to give up others for survival, so Peter still needed to keep to himself for this brief stay in New York.
Picking a table in the back of the diner, unseen by the windows to the street and unnoticed to the wait staff was a perfect place. He scanned the menu, finding nothing appealing but a bowl of soup. He ran his hand over his face, feeling the curves of his scar. It made him notorious in the public and he wished he could shape-shift his one feature. It reminded him of his failures.
He missed being in New York, but felt stings of pain at certain memories. His mother and his brother flashing in his mind as he had passed their old street. His home was demolished from the first attack by the C.E.O.S. and wondered what was left of his family's belongings. He could still recall going in and out of that house, always accusing his mother of some shady deal. Nathan, defending and mocking his mother in one swoop. As dysfunctional and toxic his adoptive family was, Peter still loved them.
Like he loved her.
Peter had cringed at the sight of the apartment that Emma and he had shared for a short time. He not only could recall happy memories with her, but also the future that never will be fulfilled with her. Her face, her laugh, and her pure kindness. Peter's train of thought was interrupted by his guest plopping down across from him.
His brother stared at him with dark eyes, his face was strained. He was annoyed that they were in such a public place, a shady one, but still a public place.
Peter observed how casual Sylar was dressed. A gray tight shirt, covered by a gray zip up. A very non-Sylar look. He was clean shaven and he wore his classic black baseball cap. He had a noticeable tan. Peter smirked at the cap, recalling the first time the two had encountered one another. They nearly killed one another over Claire.
It had been about a year since the two had seen each other and their last meeting was brief.
Before either could speak to one another, Chewy Waitress appeared taking their drink orders with a simple "Whata ya have?" and "Alright, five minutes." She shuffled off to her station and proceeded to paint her nails, looking very bored.
"Oh New York."
Sylar had broken the silence first.
Peter smirked at his comment.
"Feels sort of good to be back. Tense, but I miss home."
Sylar nodded and leaned back very relaxed. He put his arm on the booth seat.
"I miss it too, but I also don't want to linger too long. No permeant stays in New York."
He watched the empty diner cautiously as he said these words.
"I wanted to meet here, check in, before I head to Ireland."
Peter began to dive into his reasoning for the meeting.
"How are things keeping up in Mexico? Have you been able to recover any Specials or information on the Mexican base camp?"
Sylar scoffed.
"I hate Mexico."
The waitress brought them their coffee, silencing the conversation. Sylar waited till she was back at the counter, painting her nails, to finish his thoughts.
"So far...I have encountered only two specials. One had the ability to breath underwater. In the Mexican desert." Sylar rolled his eyes at the irony of the information he was giving to Peter. It clearly annoyed and bored him.
"The other had an ability to move through objects, such as walls. Useful. I transported them to the Cargo ship in the gulf. They should arrive in Cuba very soon."
Peter nodded.
"I will probably get a message from Cythania soon. Putting Molly and Cythania together was a smart idea. She can find me instantly now. Wherever I am. Cuts down risk of using phones or computers."
Sylar took a sip of his coffee, grimacing at the bitter taste.
"I know it was smart. When do my plans usually fail? Other than that, the trail on Bennet is still dead in South America, much like the Special population. He probably feels like he took care of that part of the world. The virus ripped that place apart, no real chance of rebirth. I found those two specials in a remote area of Mexico, which is miles away from the explosion site. Away from heavy populations. Away from any population. I am pretty sure they couldn't even spell population. In Spanish."
Peter nodded and decided to consult Sylar before making anymore decisions. His focus and vision of the world was strong. He could see all fronts. They weren't friends, but they had become strong allies.
"They still talk about that "biological attack" on South America. More so about how it was Hiro's fault. The Japanese terrorist. Overheard it on the radio this morning. That was nearly two years ago."
"Makes sense, they call the virus "the Kamikaze" down there. Foolish people, not realizing it was killing off only Specials. Normals. Seeing only the nickname rather than seeing things for what they really are."
Peter nodded sadly. Hiro had died in a large explosion in Rio, that released the "Cure" virus, and was found out later to be a perfectly planned out trap by Bennet. The security footage of Hiro entering the building with his special operations team spread like wildfire on the internet. It was a hard blow to the image of the Specials population. An image that labelled all of them terrorists and extremists. Their operations dwindled rapidly. Specials now have chosen to go into hiding, rather than face biological warfare and public crucifixion.
Peter rubbed his eyes. He was growing tired and wondered if he would join the small camp in Cuba for good. Live his days out on an island and letting himself live his life. Stop fighting the world.
Peter stared into his coffee.
Sylar stared at Peter with a confused look. Peter was very silent and stuck in thought.
"Peter, you still don't blame yourself? Right? You know that South America was not your fault. Nor was China. Bennet and the C.E.O.S are responsible."
Peter actually smirked at Sylar. A semi-humored one.
"Yeah, I know. I just wish..."
"Emma's death was not your fault. That...again was Bennet."
Peter sighed and began to bend a spoon in his hand.
"I should have seen it coming."
Sylar grunted at Peter's guilt.
"Hindsight is a bitch. You still believed that Bennet had some good in him. A plan to help us somehow. Plus what kind of sicko inserts detonation devices into the spines of people? People who were dragged through a death camp before being human bombs? He gave them hope, gave us hope, by letting us rescue them."
Peter nearly slammed his fists on the table, but controlled himself. He leaned forward whispering angrily at Sylar.
"I brought those people into the carnival. I should have known that it was too easy to rescue them. I should have told Emma to take the day off. Not be in the medical tent. She was looking so tired."
Sylar gritted his teeth and snarled his lip. His eyes darkened and his nostrils flared.
"Peter. Cut the broken hero shit. You want to help? Kill him with no delay next time. Isn't that what you have been up to? Finding your will to kill him."
Peter leaned back, gripping the booth tightly, and breathed out a grunt.
"If I could find him. I've searched the United States, Canada, the Caribbean Islands..."
Sylar stilled as a thought swept his mind. He slowly asked the next question, trying to seem focused purely on the mission.
"What about Claire? What has she found?"
Peter looked down, looking mentally tired again, staring at his coffee.
"No idea. I've seen her maybe four times in the last three years. She didn't attend Hiro's memorial service in Montreal. I tried to get messages to her through Micah, but he never could tell if she received them. I even sent her a message about meeting here."
Sylar slightly nodded. He wished he had dressed a little sharper for this meeting suddenly.
He had not seen Claire in six years. The explosion that occurred in Kansas had changed the course of the resistance. It changed all of them. It had been only two weeks since they had learned the truth about Bennet and his control of the C.E.O.S. when their world imploded.
Claire and Peter's first secret operation was to rescue a group that was in a camp, just outside of Seattle. They, unknowingly, brought back "cured" Specials that had been infused with explosives in their spines. One hundred people were detonated all at once. Majority of the explosions taking place in the medical tent. The rest among the campsites of families. The act killed nearly four hundred people at the camp. Emma being one of them.
Their position had also been tracked by the C.E.O.S. The carnival's position and defenses were compromised within seconds. The United States Air force provided an aerial strike that rained destruction on what Peter was trying so hard to build up.
Sylar could remember his last glimpse of Claire in the chaos. Her clothes were burnt to a crisp, but she had been with Emma within the medical tent. She looked a bit lost and dazed. Peter was the first to get to her and to the medical tent. Sylar had watched her stop Peter from going into the flames to try and save Emma. Crowds of people swarming around, panicking. He watched Peter collapsing and Claire trying to pull him to his feet. The pressure and the world had come down on Peter.
80% of the army they had built was demolished in one massive attack. The onslaught of the Air Force was just to pick off what was left. Sylar tried to reach Claire and Peter, to re-group, to get Peter back to leading. But Sylar was struck by a missile, from behind.
When he finally had regenerated, the camp was no longer standing and a soul could not be heard. He just awoke to the smell of burning flesh and burning tents.
He had finally found Peter in Florida, a year later, with Hiro. They had shifted their movement to searching for and rescuing Specials.
Claire had left their cause on her own accord. Sylar didn't need to ask Peter what her plan was. It was clear on her face the night after discovering her father to be the true villain in her life. Sylar smiled to himself about that night. A shiver ran through his body at the memories of her touch. He hoped that Peter hadn't noticed his shiver.
The waitress came shuffling back and took their orders. Sylar ordering the Pecan Pie and Peter ordering the Cream of Tomato soup.
"Claire...is different. She isn't herself." Peter said it slowly.
"Well, I think We've all changed Pete."
Claire scared the two of them, causing the grown men to jump. Sylar nearly spit his coffee out in Peter's face. Neither one had noticed her come in while they had ordered their meals. She pulled up a chair to the end of the table, refusing to sit next to either one of them in the booth. Her stare was steely, not cold, just vacant.
"I think that was the first time I have ever made the both of you jump. Boogeyman and Hero Boy."
Sylar's eyes flashed at the sight of her. He couldn't help look her over. She had kept the dark brown hair, but now had it pulled up in a tight, sophisticated ponytail. It made her look older, but Sylar couldn't read if it was her eyes that showed her maturity.
Claire was wearing a long sleeved, black, V-neck shirt that clung to her curves. She had tight pants with almost knee-high black boots. Her make up gave her eyes a dark look. Sylar almost could not recognize her from the dark colors and the shaded make up. He had never seen on her like that.
It enticed him. He was at a loss for words.
Peter seemed lost for words as well. But he was able to spurt out an understandable sentence.
"Claire...I've tried to contact you. Where have you been?"
She tilted her head at Peter and answered almost robotically.
"Eastern Europe is quite lovely in the winter."
Peter suddenly looked very angry at Claire. Her at ease demeanor over her absence put him on edge.
"What exactly have you been doing in Eastern Europe?"
Claire pursed her lips at Peter's sudden change in tone. She seemed annoyed at the boys for being upset with her.
"What do you think? Trying to kill my father."
"I figured as much. And you seem to be succeeding." Peter spat out at her sarcastically.
Claire slowly grinned a sly smile that made Peter feel instantly uncomfortable. This Claire before him was dangerous. It thrilled him in a way.
"No Pete, I have not accomplished my goal. But I've made my mark on him. Can't miss my imprint. He is running from me now."
Silence filled the table. Claire crossed her legs and began to casually look at her nails. Peter looked conflicted between being relieved that Claire was safe and furious that she had not included him in her search for Bennett. Sylar sat like a child with a stupid grin on his face. Conflict between Peter and Claire had always thrilled him. His jealousy of their relationship still existed. He was also thrilled at the product that Claire had become. He would have to give credit to her two fathers for officially turning her into this deadly vixen, but he could claim to be the foundation.
"Claire, how many times have you seen Bennet?"
"Seen? 43 times. I've made physical..." She thought for a moment to find the right word "..connection. 3 times. But I made them count."
She looked up at the waitress walking over to their table with the pie and soup. The waitress didn't even look down at Claire or the table, clearly annoyed that she had to do work.
Claire looked straight up at the waitress, grinning a fake smile and ordered a coffee. Her eyes begged for the waitress to look at her. She didn't take the bait. The waitress just grunted and turned away.
"Christ, Claire, We don't need to make waves right now."
Claire shifted towards Peter.
"Pete, he is in New York. I want him to know I'm here. Draw him out."
Peter froze at the reveal.
"Are you positive?"
"100%."
Peter looked at Sylar, who raised his eyebrow at him. Sylar gave him a look that indicated that Peter should reconsider going to Ireland.
"We are going to help."
Claire suddenly grew serious with her tone.
"No. He is mine. I do this alone."
Sylar finally spoke to her.
"We won't take the kill from you. Just be the back up. Get you to the main stage."
Claire met Sylar's eyes. He couldn't read her expressions. He attempted to dip into her mind, but was met with an impressive mental block. He scoffed.
"You've learned to block out telepaths."
"Picked it up in Prague. Met a man who showed me how to defend my body and my mind."
Peter pushed his soup away from him.
"You let him help you, but not me. Claire-"
Claire cut Peter off.
"Peter, you provided no skill set that could aid me. Your emotions were ruling your decisions back then, and I can see they still do."
The waitress shuffled back, silencing the group again. Not paying attention, the waitress dumped half a cup of hot coffee on Claire's face. Peter and Sylar shifted to help her, but Claire didn't flinch a muscle. She simply closed her eyes and reached inside her boot.
The waitress, as if being shaken awake, started apologizing intensely. She stared at Claire searching for injury, but slowly began to register her face. She swept her eyes over Sylar and Peter, realizing what she had been so clearly ignoring.
The three of them have had their faces plastered all over international news stations. They were known as a collective of terrorists, very famous terrorists. And this girl had just stumbled upon their meeting.
The diner was empty, thankfully, but her scream could do some damage to their cover.
Sylar pinned her mouth shut before she could utter a syllable.
Claire moved faster than the both of them, pulling a pistol from her boot. She roughly backed the girl up to the closest wall, shoving the gun underneath her chin.
"Do you have any towels? or table cloths in this dump?" Claire snarled at her.
Peter and Sylar looked quizzical at one another.
The girl looked frantic and looked to the back room door. Claire looked back at them.
"Sylar pin her to the wall. I'll be back."
Sylar raised his hand and kept the girl pinned to the wall.
Peter walked up to the girl with a serious look.
"Listen, I understand you are scared, but We are not what the news and the government makes us out to be."
The girl had tears streaming from her eyes. She was terrified, despite Peter's words.
Claire stalked back out of the back room. A series of towels were wrapped around her hand, making a beehive on her hand. She raised the beehive to the side of the girl's head and before Peter could stop her, she fired a shot. The towels had muffled the sound of the shot.
Sylar let the girl's body drop to the floor. He was shocked as much as Peter was. The two of them stood staring at Claire.
Claire proceeded to drag the body behind the counter and bashed open the cash register. She took out most of the money and dashed it in her pocket. She came back around from the counter and pushed past the two of them.
"Come if you want to help me. Don't worry, I left her a good tip."
The front door jingled as Claire exited the diner.