Chapter 11: The White Whale
Nathan flew Claire and the boy calling himself Rebel to the nearest town to buy some first aid supplies. None of them wanted to go to a hospital to get Rebel's scalp injury attended to, so Claire cleaned it and used some tape to hold it closed. Sylar hadn't drilled down the bone before he was interrupted, so it was just surface damage. They sat outside a McDonald's in the sunshine, trying to figure out what to do next.
"I have to get back to Washington," Rebel insisted, "I have to help Tracy Strauss out of the cell you put her in." He glared at Nathan who hung his head a little, dodging the boy's eyes.
"That's fine," said Claire, "I have to get to my Dad anyways." She looked up at her biological father and said, "My other Dad, that is.'
"Why? We can't go to Washington Claire, Danko has outed me and the whole place is looking for us. If we go to Noah we'll destroy his cover and put him at risk."
"Dad needs to know Sylar is on the loose, we need to do something!"
Nathan laughed disbelievingly. "Sylar has been free since the day you helped him escape from that plane!"
"Excuse me? Do you have something you want to say to me?"
Nathan got up from the picnic table and stood in front of her, which drew her up as well. Rebel drank his milkshake and tried to stay out of the way.
"You helped him escape not once, but twice! When you were captured in the restaurant, he came back to rescue you. What the hell were you doing out there with him?" Nathan's voice was not quite a yell, but it was close.
"How dare you say that to me? The only reason I freed Sylar in the first place was because you and my dad captured him and put him on that plane. I helped him in the diner because the only alternative was being captured and taken God knows where!"
"And what was your plan? Turn into Bonnie and Clyde?"
"I was going to use him to shut you down."
Nathan's jaw dropped and he stared at her. "You were going to use Sylar? And how many people do you think would have ended up dead, did you think of that? How many people would that psychopath have murdered to shut down this operation?"
"How many people have you killed rounding up innocent people?" She shot back, anger colouring her face. "I was going to stop him from killing anyone!"
Nathan looked significantly at Rebel's bandage. Claire closed her eyes, knowing she was trying to use her anger to distract her from how stupid she felt. She'd thought he was changing, that he could be a better person. Whatever change of heart he had been experiencing had clearly not survived the confrontation with his father. What the hell had happened in that house? She could only wonder, but something had obviously gone very wrong in there.
Finally, Claire took a deep breath and met Nathan's eyes. "Look, there's enough blame to go around. We've all made mistakes, but it's not time for pointing fingers. We have to do something about Sylar."
"And what do you think that might be? We're on the run as fugitives from the U.S. Government. We don't know where Sylar is, where he's going or what he plans to do when he gets there. Now that he knows Rebel can track him he's going to go even further off the grid."
Claire's eyes filled as the gravity of the situation finally got to her. "Damn it!" she mumbled. "I really thought he was changing, that I was getting through to him..."
Nathan's face darkened and he grabbed her arm, dragging her out of Rebel's earshot. He grabbed her hands, holding them in both of his. "Claire, did you and he... Did he do anything to you?"
His emphasis on the word "do" left no doubt what he was asking about. Claire snatched her hands away from his and whirled before he could see her face.
"No," she managed. The memory of the kiss in the abandoned restaurant flashed before her, but she shook it furiously away. "No. He didn't do anything."
They were interrupted by Rebel's modified iPhone as it buzzed a warning. Rebel pulled it out and closed his eyes. As Claire came closer she could see images flickering on the screen too fast to be identified.
When he looked up, his dark eyes were serious. Claire was struck by his maturity and dignity, rare enough in an adult let alone a kid pushing 13. "Look, whatever your plan is, you have to get me back to Washington right now or my plans will fall apart, and I may not get another chance."
"Alright, we get you back to Washington and then my daughter and I are going to Mexico to hole up until everything calms down a bit."
"He's a kid, we can't just leave him alone!"
"It's okay Claire, I'm pretty good at taking care of myself, and this is something I have to do." Claire found herself becoming convinced by his directness and self confidence. It was not hard to believe that he was very capable of taking care of himself.
"Can't we at least help?"
"I appreciate the offer, I really do...but, like your Dad said you're kind of wanted fugitives right now. It'll be easier for me to get around on my own."
Nathan smiled smugly at Claire, who saw she had been outmaneuvered and threw her arms up in defeat.
"Fine! We'll take you back to D.C. Then we'll talk about Mexico."
As they were cleaning up their lunch, Claire cocked her head curiously at Rebel. "Hey, what's your real name anyhow?"
He shone his sunny smile at her and said, "Micah Sanders."
Claire put her hand out. "Nice to meet you, Micah Sanders."
He took her hand and shook it firmly. "Nice to meet you too, Claire Bennet." They looked at one another with serious faces which broke a moment later into giggles.
Nathan smiled and folded them both into his arms. "Let's go, kids."
***
She lost the argument about Mexico, too. In truth, she didn't have any better ideas. They couldn't go to her Dad without putting him in danger. Even if they could, she couldn't argue Nathan's point that she had no clue what Sylar was up to. So they ended up in Patzcuaro in a fleabag motel that had cost Nathan his last dollar.
She stalked out of the room after telling Nathan that she was going for a walk, shaking her head in irritation. I'll figure something out, she thought furiously. Great plan.
Claire asked the hotel attendant where the nearest pawn shop was, then began walking according to the directions he gave her. As she walked by her blonde hair caused quite a bit of a stir; this was not a tourist town and blondes were rare. Perhaps some would have called out to the pretty girl who strode down the street, but her storm cloud expression put them off.
The interior of the pawnshop was cool and quiet in comparison to the sunwashed street outside, and Claire paused just inside to let her eyes adjust. A middle aged man with a large moustache was leaning against a glass counter.
"Can I help you, miss?" His English was good, if heavily accented.
"I'd like to sell this necklace," she said, reaching behind her to unclasp it. She squeezed it in her hand for a moment before handing it to him. "How much can I get for it?"
***
Sylar saw Danko walk toward the back door of the club followed by...Sylar. He smiled wickedly for a moment as he surveyed himself. He didn't need the urgent demands of his Hunger to be excited about gaining shapeshifting. He absolutely could not wait to try that out. His smile faded when his doppelganger pulled a gun from his jacket pocket and raised it toward Danko, then disappear out the back. He broke into a run, shoving through the crowds in the packed club. The stereos blaring dance music did not quite drown out the sound of a gunshot, and Sylar's heart rose into his throat. If Danko's killed my chance at that ability, he will pay, he thought viciously. The idea that the shapeshifter might actually have the drop on Danko never occurred him. The man was an idiot, but he performed well in the field. When Sylar came around the corner he saw what he had expected, Danko holding a smoking gun with the shapeshifter on the ground.
"You've killed him!"
Danko looked down at the Sylar on the ground. "No, I haven't. He's still alive."
Sylar was surprised in spite of himself, and a smile curved his mouth. He advanced on his copy, finger raised. The shapeshifter had come to himself a little, and looked up at Sylar with terrified eyes. Like a rabbit, Sylar thought.
"Wait. Can you do it without leaving the..." Danko gestured to his forehead.
Sylar smiled like a shark, all white teeth in the dark. This just got better and better, a partner who fed him. He slammed the door to the club behind him, then he looked down at his copy and considered his options. He could use his empathic talent to gain the ability, but it was far easier to just open up the head and look at the brain. On the other hand, leaving his calling card on this particular corpse would only advertise that he'd gained the ability. It might be advantageous for that to be his ace in the hole.
Sylar leaned over the shapeshifter, eliciting a scream of horror, but for the moment all Sylar did was examine him closely. Since he'd chosen Sylar's own face, it was fairly easy to figure out how he'd done it. There it is, he thought, then felt the relief from his Hunger as his DNA assimilated the new information. He looked up to Danko, content as a cat with cream on its lips.
"Have you got it?" Danko asked flatly. When Sylar nodded he grabbed the shapeshifter's hair and jerked his head forward. Expressionless, Danko took out his knife and slammed it into the nape of the man's neck. The shapeshifter's cries broke off abruptly and Sylar jumped back. Danko pulled out the knife and replaced it with a railroad spike pulled from a pocket in his leather jacket.
"What, are you practicing?" Sylar asked mockingly.
Danko shot him a dirty look. "You never know. I'm going to call this in, you go back to ... wherever you go when you're not stalking me."
Sylar nodded and gave Danko a hearty slap on the back, earning a disgusted glare. He winked at a few of the prettier girls as he made his way out of the club, twirling his key ring around his index finger. Very productive day, he congratulated himself, one step closer to doing what he couldn't.
