Author's shenanigans: Oh wow. I've been gone for so long. I feel terrible. I'm sorry, guys. I just got incredibly busy and completely forgot about this stuff. But, I am determined to finish this story. I hope this chapter isn't too bad with limited editing since I just really wanted to finish it and put it on here.

Okay so a quick SUMMARY to bring everyone back up to speed if you don't remember what's happened ('cause I even forgot and I wrote the thing): This takes place after "The Fifth Stage." Claire stayed at the carnival. Peter, Emma, and Noah were on the way to come get her because Sylar's on the loose again. Sylar is meanwhile very pissed and trying to kill them all for taking his body. But at the carnival when he and Peter confront one another, Samuel puts it down, and we learn Samuel is more powerful than Sylar. Sylar has that rendezvous with Lydia where she tells him he doesn't want to die alone. Then, Samuel threatens to kill Claire unless Sylar works for him. So Sylar agrees. Peter and Emma are still there, together. Last chapter, Peter disappeared though, and Emma followed the crazy dreads guy to the House of Mirrors which is where we pick up. She can hear, by the way, because Claire's blood healed her.

I think those are the major points. Sorry if you're confused. Just message me if you have difficulties. I'll explain.

Thanks so much for all the reviews, alerts, favorites, etc! I'm so amazed anyone's bothered at this point. But thank you. I really appreciate it.

And onward!

Chapter 12. Damnation

Emma wasn't stupid.

No. Really. She wasn't.

She knew after watching all the horror movies, the smart thing to do was not run upstairs when there's an ax murderer below. Or to go looking in the basement by yourself for that strange tapping you heard. Or to go home with charming men from bars. All the above trap you.

And yet Emma, against her better instincts, followed the weathered old man up a small set of stairs into the self-proclaimed 'House of Mirrors.' There was a short, dank corridor that led to a lighter open room full of...mirrors. Emma's reflections stared back at her, and she had to wonder when she had gained such a haunted look in her eyes.

The thought could not be pondered as Damian turned around, his gaze steady and somehow deep.

"I'm afraid the boy you love suffers greatly," he murmured with a calmness that put Emma's nerves on the edge of a razor blade. "I'm not sure there's much of him left."

"What are you talking about?" she asked with feigned confidence. "Take me to Peter now!"

The man sighed. "I cannot take you to him." Emma tensed. "But I can show him to you."

Her lips trembled. He was waiting for her consent, and though she knew she would regret it, she nodded.

He returned the gesture, and without a word, he disappeared beyond the mirrors. Emma almost followed, bewildered by his behavior until a dancing light in her peripherals made her turn.

And there in the mirror she no longer saw her frightened face.

She saw Peter's.

A clean, bloody cut stretching from one temple to the opposite jaw.

She fell to her knees, tremulous and afraid.

He was screaming but there was no sound.

It was like being deaf. A boisterous and colorful film that she couldn't hear.

Silently, she watched as Peter was tortured near to death.

Why is there evil?

How many angels can dance on the head of a pin?

...How do we make love stay?

Claire woke to the sound of a steady drum.

It had a perfect rhythm.

Thump-thump...thump-thump...thump-thump...

So strong. It was like a lullaby, and she didn't want to even open her eyes. It would ruin the magic and the gentle lull of the beat.

That is, until she realized she had a pillow.

And that pillow was a very solid chest. Which belonged to a body.

And that body was controlled by a monster.

Her eyes snapped open, and as soon as she glanced up to see her entire form was being cradled by Sylar's long limbs, she was tripping over the pillows to get as far away as possible. The disappearance of the warmth caused Sylar to stir, and just as he groggily opened his eyes, he caught the flapping of the tent as Claire exited.

He groaned. Something told him she wouldn't exactly be grateful he had moved her from the dirt to the bed in her sleep. But, she was so loud, tossing and turning and moaning and sometimes crying, he couldn't rest either. It was amazing how as soon as her laid her on the pillows and tucked a blanket around her body, she stilled and her breathing became even as she cutely snuggled her face into the fluff. He had sighed and taken his previous spot, putting a respectable distance between them.

It certainly was not Sylar's fault Claire had wiggled her way over to him in the dark.

But again, he didn't think this small detail would matter much to her at all.

He threw on his shirt and shoes and was quickly following her. She hadn't gotten very far and with some short pacing, he caught up to her stride.

"Claire, listen, I-"

It was almost fantastic how swiftly she whirled around to face him, fist in tow as it swung out and high and landed squarely on his nose.

Damn. For such a tiny human, she packed a hard punch. Then again, she didn't have to worry about the fact that her wrist snapped from the impact.

Sylar grunted for a moment, clutching his bloodied nose but never breaking his gaze with Claire.

She said nothing, but her eyes were an incredible shade of green. God, he felt hypnotized by them; they were so intense, trying to communicate so many things at once. He didn't know how they could handle it.

She was embarrassed and irritated about what happened. But, she was also...hurt. And…ashamed.

He listened in on her thoughts, but instead of words, a series of images filled his vision.

There was her mother, sweat beading her forehead as she tried to contain the fire in her hands. The fire that he had induced. He felt Claire's fury and the gash in her heart as she remembered saying goodbye to her biological mother, only knowing her for a short time.

Then, there was Nathan, smiling his beautiful politician smile in one of those campaign speeches, waving as camera's flashed. She remembered seeing it on a television, and he felt her pride upon learning that the man was her father. A hero.

Then, he saw himself through her eyes, hovering over her body, scalp lying on the floor in her peripherals. He felt his own fingers touching her brain and the complete violation like he was taking advantage of her in a different way. He felt the fear and the certain knowledge that she was going to die.

Finally, there was this morning, waking up in his arms as though she were his lover. And he felt the guilt that she had been so close to the man who had taken those lives and abused her. He felt the inexplicable hurt that he would make her feel so terrible.

There were tears in her eyes when he left her mind. He popped his nose back into place, ignoring the stinging pain, and dropped his hands to his side.

"I'm sorry."

She trembled but said nothing and turned away.

He followed but far enough behind to give her space. He could plainly see and hear she was crying.

Geez, when had he become such a gentleman? He scoffed at himself. The old Sylar would have done much more than just drop her in bed last night. The old Sylar wouldn't have particularly cared how she felt in the morning. The old Sylar would continue to torment her as he had been doing the past few days.

…The old Sylar wouldn't have rescued her either.

He stopped in his tracks.

Maybe...maybe he just wasn't the old Sylar anymore. The one Hiro Nakamura said would die alone. That one had faded away when his exhausting anger extinguished.

Maybe now there was just this Sylar that Lydia spoke of. The one that didn't want to be alone anymore. The one that craved redemption.

The thought made him very uncomfortable, like he was a teenage boy again stuck at one of those stupid pep rallies. God, he hated those things.

But, this...this was better, he guessed. While he certainly wasn't fond of being the good guy, he abhorred the look in Claire's eyes just moments ago.

For now, he would just have to run with the feeling of pros and cons. He continued to follow her.

It wasn't long along their way until they met another carnie.

Lydia. But, she seemed in distress, her eyes only for Claire as she stumbled out from between a couple of tents.

"Claire!" she panted out. "C-come! Come quickly!"

Claire, still tearful, seemed to forget her own misery as Lydia clutched her arm. "What's wrong?"

"It's Peter!"

She needn't say anything more. Claire followed, ignoring Sylar as he, too, trailed behind.

Lydia led them through a series of twists and turns, around trailers and tents. Claire was too alarmed to care, but Sylar noticed that they never passed another person along the way. It was like the carnival was deserted. How strange.

Soon enough Lydia stopped, and Claire nearly crashed into her. The came to a clearing, and Sylar stayed on its outskirts. He sensed something was very wrong, and he needed to have a full vantage point. There were rainbow-colored lights strewn above on some posts. The dirt was beat down as the area seemed to be an intersecting point for the many paths throughout the carnival. The two women stood in the middle, Lydia clutching Claire as both heard a sound that made their skin crawl.

A man. Screaming.

It came in and out of focus, as if it would draw near and then fade away.

Suddenly, Peter stumbled into the clearing, falling to his hands and knees, hacking up blood and trembling. Quickly following suit was the man with clones coming in from every direction, surrounding the group. One appeared behind Sylar and even pushed him forward. Sylar growled but held his tongue, waiting patiently for his opportunity to strike.

Except he wasn't sure who to strike. Peter? The clones?

Then, Samuel appeared.

He was every bit his natural self, smiling, fatherly even. He supported a distraught Emma on his arm as they made their way into the circle. Emma was tense, eyes wandering in every direction, looking for something in particular…

"PETER!"

She fled Samuel's side and reached Peter the moment he collapsed into her lap, exhausted. Defeated. She was whispering nonsensical things. Holding his head. Kissing it. Brushing dirt off of his shirtless body.

Sylar saw the gash ripping his face in half.

Claire did, too, as she gasped, kneeling by his side as well.

Meanwhile, Lydia and Samuel were staring intently at one another, communicating a thousand things that had Sylar bothered to listen to their thoughts, he would have understood. But, the moment was so quick, it almost did not warrant it.

"Lydia, I fear what will become of you," Samuel murmured below the ruckus of Claire's and Emma's fretting.

Her back to Sylar, he couldn't see the expression on her face, but she nodded and turned in his direction. She began walking to brush past him and stopped inches away. Her lips drew close to his ear.

"You have to save them, Gabriel," she whispered, softly, desperately. "You are their only hope against Samuel." She stepped back, meeting his gaze, the saddest smile on her face. He didn't understand. She had hated him a day before, but Sylar was quickly learning things changed by the second at the carnival. He looked into her thoughts, and he felt her placid heart beating.

She was going to die, and she knew it.

Protect them. Peter has to save us all, but you have to protect them.

Sylar shook his head. How could he? He was a monster.

I know what you are, Gabriel. I've seen your heart, and it is filled with darkness, yes, but you are no monster. Not anymore.

And with her last fortune told, Lydia vanished, leaving Sylar in the circle of chaos.

Claire had stood, glaring darkly at Samuel. "What the hell did you do to him?" she cried with accusation.

Samuel was a talented actor. His grimace carefully shifted to that of guilt and desperation. "I did everything in self-defense, Claire!" he replied, hand on his chest as if the very thought hurt his heart. "He came to my trailer, attacked me! He tried to kill me! I had to stop him in any way possible before he hurt someone else!"

Peter, barely breathing, was stirred. "L…lie…" he croaked. Sylar didn't think anyone but he had heard it.

"Stop lying!" Claire screeched, lunging at Samuel with wild eyes and completely prepared to rip him to pieces. Before she reached him, a clone appeared between them, easily catching her and twisting her to pin her hands behind. She screamed in fury, anger clouding every inch of her beautiful face.

Sylar did not like where the situation was going.

Just as he was about to intervene, Samuel found his eyes and smiled. "Ah, Sylar, just the man I need!"

Sylar put on the best mask he had and stepped forward. "Yes, Samuel?"

The carnie grinned maliciously. Sylar found the expression all too familiar, though it was usually on his own face. "Our dear friend, Peter, seems to have worn out his welcome," Samuel claimed, gesturing to the man formerly known as Peter Petrelli. "Would you be so kind as to show him the way out?"

Their gaze did not break, and Sylar took the liberty of looking into Samuel's mind.

Behind the smile was the simple phrase: Kill him.

Seemingly unabashed, Sylar nodded, though inside he no longer had a desire to kill Peter. Not a strong one, anyway. But, this was the deal he had made with Samuel to keep Claire alive. Do his bidding, and the cheerleader survives. It destroyed his pride, but he had eternity to think about.

He took a step forward, but then he made a terrible, most horrible mistake.

He looked into Claire's eyes, and by no accord of his own, Sylar communicated exactly what he was about to do.

She shook her head, silently, the horror etched in her face. He could see the 'no' on her lips, and the pleading in her eyes. He had to ignore it. Had to. He wasn't Gabriel today. Just Sylar. Only Sylar. Nothing to think about but his mission.

But, everything changed in a matter of seconds as it was the way of the carnival.

Claire broke from the clone's grasp after elbowing it in the groin; it groaned and disappeared. She sprinted forward before anything could stop her and barreled into Sylar's chest, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him. He rocked backward from her momentum and the absolute shock that his most prominent fantasy was coming true.

She was a passionate thing, urgent. She was already half-lifted off the ground, as she was much too short to reach him without his assistance, and he couldn't resist the urge to let his hands roam: through her hair, down her back, along her thighs as she curled around his form.

But, just as quickly as it happened, it was over. She pulled away, still held up in his arms. She stared hard and long into his eyes, shaking. "You want to start building bridges?" she hissed under her breath. She pressed her lips lightly to his and continued with her sweet words. "Then, don't do it. Please. Don't."

Her lips, her kiss…Sylar was intoxicated. Forget his mission. If Claire kept this up, he would probably forget about Samuel, too. But, alas, she fell from his grasp to her feet and separated herself from him, never breaking his gaze. She mouthed 'Please' once more. And again. And again. The tears in her eyes, her tremulous body, her desperation…Damn it.

Damn it all to hell.

Sylar regained his composure, losing her eyes for his own sake. He stared straight ahead. "I'm sorry, Claire."

He could sense it, could feel the way her expression changed. Confusion. Then, pure, unadulterated loathing. "No," she whispered. "No."

He ignored her, pushing her out of the way as she tried to put herself between him and Peter. "NO!" she screamed as she fell but quickly rebounded, punching him uselessly in the back as he knelt and took Peter from Emma, lifting him from the ground. Emma remained, bewildered and in a complete daze. But, Sylar didn't see it. He kept staring straight ahead, trying to convince himself that he was anywhere else but there.

"NO! No, Sylar, please, stop!"

He had to get out of there before he killed Samuel, who was ever so graciously holding Claire back as she tried to pound the life out of Sylar. The last thing he heard before he shot into the sky was Emma's eerily calm voice asking, "Where is Peter going?"

It was only minutes before Sylar landed in a crowded wood, but it felt like time was moving in slow motion. Peter had passed out, and as his feet touched the ground, he threw the man down unable to bear his weight any longer. He paced for several moments, trying to gather himself.

He had to kill Peter to make sure Claire lived.

But, Claire would be devastated if one of her only surviving relatives perished. He had already orphaned her. Did he really have to kill Peter?

The darker side of him wanted to kill him. He had always hated Peter and his righteous ways. He would complete one of his lifelong missions if he finally rid the world of him.

But, that was something he had desired before his life was turned upside down. So…maybe he didn't want to anymore?

"God damn it!" he breathed, frustrated. He ran his fingers through his hair and finally sat on a stump not too far away from Peter's body.

He had to make a decision.

Abruptly, he lifted his hand and Peter lifted into the air, facing Sylar. His feet dangled, and with a little electric shock, he awoke. His eyes darted around, searching for danger, but all they found was a contemplative Sylar, which was plenty danger enough.

"Sy…Sy…lar…"

Peter tried to lift a hand, but it was futile. He was so weak, but there was still hatred in his eyes.

"I've brought you out here to kill you," Sylar quipped, holding Peter steady. "Samuel told me to, and I'm helping him to save Claire."

At this, Peter merely looked confused.

"I know," Sylar chuckled, "it doesn't make any sense. Why Claire? Why would I care at all?"

He stood, approaching Peter slowly in the most nonthreatening way he could. Peter struggled nonetheless.

"But, the thing is, Pete," he murmured, "I think Claire is my answer…And I will do anything to get that answer."

Peter's eyes widened. He feared for his niece's life, but he could see his own death coming in seconds by the helpless expression on Sylar's face. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

This was it.

Suddenly, though, he was released. He collapsed on the ground in a heap at Sylar's feet. Sylar reached down and yanked him up by the arm, helping him momentarily to balance before he turned him to face a particular direction.

"The highway is that way," Sylar told him, pointing straight ahead. "Walk towards it. Don't turn around, or you'll get lost, and I have no intention of coming to look for you."

Peter was dumbfounded, looking between Sylar's hand and his face, trying to understand the situation.

"I'll keep her safe," he reassured Peter. "It's kind of the whole reason I'm here. That Emma girl, too. I'll protect them. But, you have to go."

Peter still couldn't understand; he shook his head. Sylar sighed, irritated.

"You're supposed to save them, Peter," he clarified, reiterating Lydia's words. "You're the hero. Now go before I change my mind."

Sylar shoved him forward, and Peter stumbled. He was just regaining feeling in his legs, but he didn't fall. Just as he turned to look back at Sylar, the man had vanished. He turned back to the direction Sylar had pointed. Peter took a deep breath.

The highway. He had to get to the highway.

He took a step and did not look back.

Sylar returned to find Claire, Emma, and Samuel in much the same state he had left them.

Claire was crying. Emma was lost. And Samuel smiled, meeting Sylar's eyes.

"...It's done."

Samuel nodded, pleased. Claire was finally silenced, mouth gaping, trying to find words.

"You unimaginable bastard."

He did not look at her. He couldn't. He might give it all away.

"Now, Claire," Samuel chided gently, "Peter was putting others at risk, and Sylar was just doing as he was told." Claire gave him a menacing glance, but he didn't seem to mind as he focused on Sylar. "Well, my boy, you've held up your end of the bargain…Claire's yours in the meantime."

She was still in Samuel's hands, and he pushed her towards Sylar. She was obstinate as he caught her, though. She began screaming again, throwing fists and curse words like there was no tomorrow, which to her, it might have seemed like there wasn't. He held her tightly as she hit him wishing he could tell her the truth. But, he couldn't. It would put her in more danger, and it would risk any chance Peter had. So, he let her hit him. Again and again.

Samuel grinned. "You kids have fun now!" he teased as though they were simply going off on a date. He crouched and assisted Emma in standing. Something had happened to the woman. She was lost, eyes glazed over. Broken.

"Where's Peter?" she asked. "I want Peter."

"Peter took a trip, sweetie," Samuel crooned softly. "But, don't you worry about him. Why don't we go get you so breakfast?"

She nodded dumbly. "Okay. That sounds nice."

They left Sylar and Claire alone.

She was exhausting herself, struggling against him. He simply watched and took everything she had to give him. He deserved that and more, but it was the best he could do for her at the moment. A time would come when he knew he'd have to pay for all of his deeds, but that wasn't the time yet.

"Claire…Claire, I'm sorry," he whispered gently. "I'm so sorry."

She was reduced to sobbing against his chest, forced into proximity by his embrace. "F-fuck you…I hate you…I hate you so much…"

"I know, Claire. I know."

"Please…just…" She cried. "Just kill me…"

Disturbed, Sylar freed one hand to lift her head. Her green eyes burned, and he let them tear him apart.

"Claire, do you want to sleep?"

Fresh tears slid down her face. "…yes...please…"

He nodded.

"I really am sorry."

With a wave of his hand, she was knocked unconscious. Her body became limp in his arms.

He hoisted her up, cradling her carefully, and began trekking back towards their tent.

Again. Sorry for so long an update. I'll try to do better until this is done. Please review! Thanks!