Chapter Thirteen

"The Art of War"

Claire was careful to not accost Peter after he emerged from his trance like connection with her dad. Peter always felt weakened after using his powers and it wouldn't do her any good to pester him. Claire knew he would tell her everything when he was ready and able.

Which he did. After he had finished relaying everything, they stared at each other across the bed, aghast. Living with the Petrellis, she had heard snippets here and there about the infamous Linderman. From the looks that usually accompanied those references, Claire had gathered pretty quickly that Linderman wasn't a person she'd want to meet any time in the near future. Niki and DL's own experiences with him had been enough to confirm the Petrellis view.

But to find now that he had been the puppet master all along? That he had been right under their noses the whole time, ruining their lives? That made her furious.

"What are we going to do?" Claire demanded, looking to Peter for answers they both so desperately wanted. "We have to do something."

"I know." He seemed confused, lost, even frightened. She couldn't tell whether it was from discovering Linderman as the mastermind behind all the attacks or Claire looking to him for action, or even something else that her dad had said. It wasn't the best feeling in the world to realise that, for the moment at least, she was having trouble reading Peter.

She longed for simpler day, when they could just grab hot dogs or takeout after work and classes and just be together, enjoying each other's company. Why couldn't life always be like that? Why couldn't they live just like everyone else, without all this melodrama plaguing their lives?

But how selfish were those thoughts? Claire and Peter weren't the only ones caught in the midst of a battle they hadn't asked for, so why was she pretending that destiny or fate had imposed this burden on them and only them? Being in college had broadened Claire's horizons. She thought briefly back to her Intro to Western History class last semester that had made her realise that people – countless men and women – had died for their causes throughout history. The men and women who had fought in the second World War hadn't asked for any of the responsibility they had ultimately shouldered, but they had volunteered for it anyway. Millions of people had died in wars mostly not of their own making and what had all of that been for?

Those people – living, breathing people – had fought for what they had believed was right and good. They had fought because they wanted play their part to save the world.

Was Claire and Peter so very different from those people? For the first time, Claire saw the fight she was enmeshed in not as something that was foisted on her without consent, but one that she consciously chose to participate in. She saw with clarity that her ability to heal didn't prevent her to abstaining from the fight if she had really wanted to. It wasn't what Claire wanted to do in any case because deep down, she was a fighter. She would volunteer herself to fight to save the world.

Peter seemed to be at a complete loss as to their next move. "What do we do?" He was mumbling almost as much to himself as to her. "Linderman, he's dangerous …" He gulped. "I'm a danger."

"Peter, what are you talking about?"

He was still mumbling, his eyes unfocused, terrified. "I'll be like them. I'll be like them."

It was clear her dad had told Peter something, bad enough to alarm him. She wanted so badly to find out what had been said, but now didn't seem the time. "We need to tell the others right away." Claire blurted as a way to snap Peter out of his growing hysteria. She and the others needed Peter to function properly right now and not lose what appeared to be his increasingly fragile grasp on reality.

It was odd how the dynamics of their little circle worked. It was tacitly accepted that Peter was the leader for situations like the current one. Even Nathan deferred to his younger brother, as a nod to Peter's superior ability. Nathan however, was the acknowledged leader for everything else and if pushed Claire would have categorised this as 'everything else.'

Peter nodded and Claire made the phone call to Nathan. Unfortunately, he didn't answer. She tried everyone else's phone in quick succession but had no luck. With each passing voicemail message her fears grew. "No one's answering." She glanced at Peter grimly. At least Claire's gambit had worked as she saw Peter returning to normality, enough to reach across her father's body to squeeze her hand. "I don't think this is good."

"Maybe … maybe I should teleport us back to Nathan's, see that everything's okay?"

Peter and Claire had been so absorbed in their conversation they failed to notice that a shadow had melted into the room. Claire only just had enough time to gasp as Sylar noiselessly appeared behind Peter.

"Hello again." He greeted them calmly. With Isaac's murder still fresh in their minds, Peter lunged straight for Sylar, grabbing his neck and hauling him off his feet.

"You killed Isaac!" Peter screamed. It was lucky – for Sylar at least – that Peter hadn't chosen or remembered to access Niki's super strength because one good squeeze would have popped Sylar's eyes right out of their sockets and severed his head from his body.

As it was, Peter squeezed until veins protruded from Sylar's neck, leaving him gasping for breath. Even then, he didn't move to defend himself, something Claire could tell intrigued Peter. It seemed to be the inaction of an innocent man. But then again knowing Sylar, it could've just been a trick.

"I didn't kill Isaac Mendez." He choked out between gasps. Even knowing the possibility that Sylar hadn't killed Isaac, Claire wasn't willing to step in. He was still a murderer whether he was reformed or not.

Peter didn't look like stopping anytime soon. Judging by the malicious glint in his eyes, Claire knew that if she didn't step in soon, Sylar – or Gabriel – would be dead within seconds.

She was tempted. What more supreme poetic justice than Peter murdering Sylar in front of her comatose father? Sylar who had murdered so many in turn, now reaping the vengeance he'd so carelessly sown?

But Claire couldn't let Peter do this. She hated him for making her stop him, for standing up for what was right. Truth, justice and the American way sounded a lot like bullshit now that she had to pick up the sanity Peter had just left behind.

"Stop it Peter." She tried to wrench Peter's iron-like grip from around Sylar's neck without success. But he was too strong, too determined to see the other man suffer. She was no match for Peter's vast arsenal and as her eyes met Sylar's strangely calm ones, they both knew he was about to let himself be killed. "Stop it!" She screamed at Peter, yanking his arms down. "You can't do this. You can't be like him, stop it! Stop, now! Please, please, Peter, don't … "

In between her hysterical screaming and sobbing and the rushing of nurses that scampered into her dad's room in response to all the noise, Peter managed to snap out of feverish rage, letting Sylar fall to the floor like a ton of bricks. Claire stole a look at Peter in between painful sobs. He looked flushed, his eyes glowing with dimming fever.

"Claire?" That look had become eerily familiar to her, that look of absolute vulnerability, his features slowly being overtaken by the horror of what he had almost done. It was the same look he had given her after killing the two men yesterday and it was doing to her now what it had done to her then.

It tore her heart in two to see Peter suffering like this.

Their eyes met and Claire could sense Peter's pain, his confusion. His eyes seemed to scream silently, "What's happening to me?" All Claire wanted to do was run to him, bury herself and whisper sweet nothings into his ear. But as it was, they were stuck in a room full of nurses and doctors demanding to know what the hell was going on, a gasping Sylar that sat hunched in the corner of the room, all the while her dad's comatose form lying unaware of the tumult surrounding him.

It was pandemonium and Claire had to get Peter out of there now. Ignoring all the demands for answers, she hastily grabbed Peter's hand and guided him out of the room.

They weren't five steps outside the hospital when they both felt him looming behind them, a pestilent shadow dogging their every step. "What the hell do you want?" Peter gritted out, still pale and shaking from his loss of control.

"I …" Claire had to give it to Sylar, he sure knew how to confuse an already messed up situation. "I'm not sure."

Claire glanced around, spying a secluded area to the left of the hospital entrance. She remembered from her various visits that the gardens were used mainly by patients and their families to get away from the sterility and bleakness of the hospital. But judging by its emptiness, there weren't many people taking advantage of it. Green, vibrant, leafy and shaded, it was a perfect, out of the way place for them to continue the conversation, especially if any violence were to arise again. Which given the participants, was highly likely.

Claire jerked her head towards the garden. "Come on." She stared keenly at two sets of dead, haunted eyes, struck suddenly by their similarity. Their defeated postures, shoulders hunched as if the weight of the world was on them, the exaggerated stillness that only comes from being tightly coiled, ready for action should the need arise.

Oh god, how could she even have thought that? That Peter and Sylar were … similar? Peter was the kindest, most caring man she knew and Sylar … he was a cold, calculating vicious murderer. But both of them had killed in indiscriminate coldness. Claire had witnessed Peter doing it right in front of her.

"It's okay." Peter whispered as he gently took her hand, allowing himself to be led by her. It took Claire a while to realise that he'd just read her mind. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to."

If she had to be honest with herself, Peter and Sylar weren't similar as much as mirror images. She couldn't shake her trust that Peter was inherently a good person, capable of doing the wrong thing. Sylar was – she didn't know him enough to know what he inherently was and sure as hell, Claire didn't want to be in a position to find out.

The shade of the pines afforded them relief from the dry heat of the late afternoon. Seeing Sylar in the afternoon brightness somehow diminished his menace. There was nowhere to hide in the light; the sun shone into the dark crevices that people wanted kept hidden. And so it was with Sylar. As she saw him silhouetted against the vibrant greenery around them, she knew she was looking at someone who didn't quite belong in the world, disconnected and isolated from humanity.

She couldn't decide whether she pitied or hated him for it.

"Okay, now talk." Peter seemed to have partially recovered, but it didn't make Claire feel any better to see the cold glint back in his darkened eyes. She knew from experience – which wasn't exactly a good thing – that the reddish tint around his irises was usually a prelude to him unleashing some devastating facet of his ability.

And she was right. No sooner had Claire seen it, Peter casually reached into Sylar, his hand disappearing into the other man's chest. "I've got my hand around your heart. Now tell us everything or I'm yanking it out through your ribcage – slowly."

Claire was appalled. "Peter, what are you doing?" She tried wrenching his arm out, but Peter shrugged her easily away, the sheer force of it enough to send her reeling against a tree, impaling her against a low hanging branch.

She glanced at Sylar, who looked inordinately composed for someone who could die a gruesome, bloody death at any moment. God, he even seemed – serene. Like he'd made his peace with his demons and was ready for whatever came.

Claire pulled herself off the branch, watching in confusion as her skin stitched itself back together. Her world was suddenly reeling. What was happening here? More importantly, what had happened to Peter to make him so casually resort to violence even against her, someone he'd previously treated as the heart and soul of his entire existence?

This wasn't the man she'd known and Claire had no idea how to stop him. But all she could do was try. "Peter, what the hell –"

He whipped around, his voice a low growl. "Back off Claire. I need to do this."

"No you don't."

"Yes, he does." They both turned to Sylar, still composed amidst the raging of emotions. "He needs to experience it, feel it pulsate through his veins. He's always known it was there, waiting to be unleashed. It's what makes him special. Different. It's his turn to be someone now."

Peter's eyes flickered, his lips curling into contempt. "You think you know me?" The darkness in him was heartbreaking to watch. "You know what it's like, feeling the others within you? I take a piece of them every time I take their power. And you know what that feels like."

"Yes, I do." Sylar glanced down at Peter's hand still embedded in his chest, before his eyes drilled straight into Claire's. "It consumes you. If left alone, it consumes you."

Peter followed his gaze to Claire. For the first time she could remember, she found herself shrinking back from the malevolent coldness emanating from him. What was happening here? "You think she can save me?" His smile wasn't anything like the warm smile she loved. "Maybe she can." He added softly, and roughly jerked his hand out of Sylar's chest.

Claire's breath caught in her throat as she spied Peter's hand coming out of Sylar's chest – empty. Her eyes rocketed up to Sylar who, to her relief, was still a living, breathing homicidal maniac.

"Oh god, I can't control it anymore." Peter fell to his knees, staring at the hand that he'd just taken out. He looked up at Claire with beseeching, soulful eyes. "Help me."

Claire couldn't lie any more to herself now, she was panicking. Peter's breakdowns – for want of a better word – were getting more violent and frequent and she worried that the next time, even she wouldn't be unable to pull him back from the edge.

Sylar's presence wasn't really helping. She glared at the other man. Feeling her eyes bore into him, he lifted his head to meet her gaze. He nodded slightly as if understanding her thoughts, which enraged Claire even more. What did he know of her and Peter? What did he know about anything? "Why are you here?" She hissed, wanting to impale him on the branch that had impaled her earlier.

"I don't … know." His stillness broke slightly. He sounded lost. "They came after me and I almost died in that fire. I won't let that happen again."

Claire hadn't yet forgotten that she was talking to the man who only three years before had murdered Jackie, mistaking her for Claire. It was almost impossible to believe that she was talking to him now in Odessa, of all places. "Did you kill Isaac?"

"No." Claire didn't have Peter or Matt's ability to read thoughts so she had no way of knowing for sure whether he was lying. But like Peter before her, Claire however inexplicably, believed him. Sylar had been right to say that his particular brand of murder had never been underhanded. When he wanted someone's brain, he just went and got it.

So she continued to believe him for now, as incredible and as crazy as that would sound to anyone else later on. Maybe she just wanted to believe it – wanted to believe that even after committing all those atrocities, a person could come back from the chasm of insanity and do some good in the world. Maybe she wanted to believe it in case it happened to Peter. "If you didn't kill Isaac, who did?"

"It must've been them." The hatred placed on that word sent shivers down her spine. That was the Sylar she loathed and feared. "They knew I'd gotten to you. They know that I told you everything I knew."

"Did you send them after us?" Claire's voice was starting to waver. Everything that had happened over the course of the last few days – her family, the attacks, Isaac, Peter – was really getting to her. And now she was having a conversation with Sylar – she was barely keeping herself from falling apart at the seams.

She had to suck it up. All her life, she had been looked after, protected. It was her turn to step up now to help save others, or else who knew what would happen? All those times Peter had saved someone else's life – he had never asked for that responsibility. He had never once shirked from that even though it had burdened him with a responsibility too great for a single man to carry.

She glanced at Peter, eyes still withdrawn and arms crossed over his chest as if willing himself to implode. If Claire could take even a small fraction of that load from Peter, it would be worth it. Worth facing her fears, facing the unknown.

It was Claire Bennet's turn to save the world now.

"Let's say I believe you – for now. Everything you told us back at the warehouse – that's all you know?"

"No. There's more."

She stared at him incredulously. "And? What is it?"

His eyes skittered around, surveying the area. Did he really expect an attack right now? "It's Linderman, he's behind it all. Everything that's happened to us, from day one."

"We know." Off his surprise, she elaborated. "My dad … he told us." She kept it deliberately vague.

"Yes, your father tried to see me. It tipped them off, that he'd found out what they were doing."

Claire gritted her teeth in frustration. This was ridiculous, getting information out of Sylar was like root canal, except infinitely more painful. They didn't have time for this. "We know about this, you told us yourself. They're manipulating people's genes, infusing them with the abilities of others or whatever. Is that all?"

"Of course not." He circled them, reminding her of a shark hunting its prey. "I told you they were successful in using samples of your DNA to regenerate people. Isn't it obvious what the next step is?"

Claire looked blankly into Sylar's curiously sparkling eyes and shuddered. It was as if whatever he was about to divulge excited him in some way, which couldn't have been a good thing. "No." She glanced at Peter, whose eyes to her relief had refocused at least. "Tell us."

"Claire, they're going to make everyone invincible. Like you."

Oh god. A whole army of people with multiple abilities, all with instant healing? "How can we possibly stop them? If they already have samples of my DNA, what can we do to –?"

Sylar smirked, holding up a hand to interrupt. "Why do you think I blew up their research lab? Your father deleted all the files from their servers, every single file. I destroyed their back up facility right afterwards. They've got nothing, which is why they really, really want you. You're their Grail, Claire. We can save the world by saving you."

There it was again, that mission statement that had always been such a millstone around her neck. It was enough to yank Peter's attention from his misery and regain focus. Saving Claire was something that was familiar to him, comfortable, even if it sounded like he'd lost the rest of his marbles.

The last time she had heard 'save the cheerleader, save the world', she had been the damsel in distress. Well, not this time. Claire wasn't a cheerleader anymore and she didn't feel particularly like running for her life. She was angry that Linderman had chosen to murder innocent people and potentially destroy the world she loved so much.

If Linderman was behind all of this – and she had it from a few sources now to know that he was – then he was going down. He had seen fit to murder her mother and brother and Isaac, putting her father in a potentially fatal coma, had attacked her closest friends and reduced Peter to a wreck of his former self. That was more than enough ammunition Claire needed and for the first time in her life, she was ready.

"What are you prepared to do?" She asked Sylar bluntly, carefully scrutinising him.

"Whatever it takes." He cast a determined look at her, strangely calming the rising panic in the pit of her stomach. She knew now that the world had officially gone crazy, when Sylar was able to calm her down while Peter gave her the chills.

But whatever was coming, Claire was ready for it. She was ready for the end, the ultimate showdown. This was her battle to fight, and god help anyone that got in her way.