Disclaimer: I only own Laira and her lyrics. Other then that, nil.

A/N: Yay, next chapter! Ok I'll warn you that this chapter has character death in it but nothing you haven't seen before in the show so no worries. I really hope this chapter turns out as well as I want it to because it had major events happening afterwards. With all that said, onward!

Unnatural Fire

Chapter Five

Sylar

In the two months that passed after Mohinder showed me how to use my ability, I had settled in to who and what I was fairly easily. Peter and Issac of course were always a help in the whole making me not feel like a total freak thing and Mohinder well, he was Mohinder. Is there anything else that really needs to be said?

My powers became easier to me and by two months, I could light, dry and heat things without even having to touch them. Although, my aim was sometimes a little off and I accidentally set the wrong thing ablaze, so for the most part it was safer to do it by hand if there were a lot of flammable things nearby. But still, it was improvement.

My job was good and I liked being able to mix drinks and make conversation with a lot of different and interesting people. For the most part I tried to take the first bit of advice Mohinder had ever given me and stay away from the booze but sometimes it just too strong of a temptation and I sneaked a shot or two. But that didn't really get me drunk so it wasn't really that much of danger. Still, I was careful because I knew from experience how easily one drink can turn in two, and two can turn into six, and well, you get the idea.

I started a little as Sammy jumped onto my lap, purring fiercely and breaking my concentration from Issac. In the short time I had known him I had come to love watching him paint and not even his glowing eyes freaked me out anymore. There was something mesmerizing in studying the way he painted without thought, just blended colors and shapes together, weaving out the future with a grace that would have made a ballerina jealous. I could literally sit for hours and just watch him if I had the chance.

Suddenly his eyes closed then opened, back to their regular color as he blinked and looked around for a moment as if confused. Then recognition sparked in his eyes and all was good.

"Dude, you have talent." I said, grinning as I pet Sammy. He turned around, his over shirt splattered with paint from his current painting and god knows how many others before that. For some reason, I still found that kind of amusing at times and I have no idea as to why. Maybe I should just say that I'm a crazy person with a really warped sense of humor and call it a night.

"I try." He answers before studying the painting. It was one of those ones that was kind of hard to make out. It was a painting of a girl, a red-head (but not me) holding a pad and a pen of paper, staring at a young oriental man sitting in a booth. He was smiling at her, a smile in which she returned. Knowing full well that I was about the sound like a third grader who had just been presented with algebra (a subject I still loathed) I still couldn't help the hopelessly common phrase from leaving my mouth.

"I don't get it."

"Neither do I." He answered, setting his supplies down. "But I have a feeling we'll get it sooner or later. We usually do. Who knows, it might be a clue to who the next person with powers will be." I studied the painting closely, my eyes staring at the little Asian man.

"He seems to be a reoccurring image, though." I said, pointing at him, careful not to touch the wet paint. "I mean, you've met him, correct?"

"Ya." He replies, looking at me and no doubt wondering where I was going with this. Honestly, I had no idea but just went with my hunch. I was always good with hunches.

"Well, if he's someone with abilities, then she must be someone with abilities that he someone meets or something." I explain, going with the most logical possibilities. "But what her power is or how he meets her is anyone's guess. It's impossible to even tell what country it's in." I sigh and then sit down. "Other then that, I got nothing."

"More then I got - and I'm the one who painted the stupid thing." Issac sighed and sat down beside me, draping a friendly arm over my shoulder. Most people would have thought that this was some kind of flirtation but I knew better then that.

Issac was a close friend of mine and I spent most of my time in his studio watching him and studying his paintings, nothing more then that. The arm over me thing was just a display of affection closer to what one would show to a close comrade as opposed to a lover. That and I seriously doubted he was going to be with anyone anytime soon after Simone.

It was kind of a tragic life that Issac had so far from being addicted to heroin, to losing the only girl he had ever loved and then finally having her die on him. I felt bad even though I knew it wasn't my fault but I did the best I could to help him through being here to listen and too make sure that he didn't get back on drugs. I had frequently told him that if he ever touched a needle again I would set his feet on fire. And I meant it. I yawned and stretched, moving my neck side to side and listening to it crack. Well, that probably wasn't healthy.

"Well, I'm going to make a pot of coffee." I said, lowering my arms back down to my sides.

"It's 2 in the afternoon." Issac said, stating the obvious.

"So?" I countered, grinning. "You've been living near me enough to know that, as far as I'm concerned, it's never too late for a cup of coffee…….or two………or ten…." He chuckled as I turned towards the stairs that lead to my loft, which I hardly ever used. For the past two months I had been practically living in Issac's studio. Humming a little melody to myself I started the coffee maker before sitting down at the kitchen table and flipping through the paper.

Another hit from that guy in Texas who cut people's brains open and removed them. As far as they knew they didn't know what he did with the brains and none of them that ever been found. But I had heard Mohinder talk about it a great deal, something about a guy named Sylar who absorbed other people's power through devouring the brain, where the power is said to reside.

The coffee maker finished and I practically skipped over to it, happily pouring what I jokingly called my liquid crack into a mug before adding cream and sugar. Still humming to myself (a habit I sort of had) I got to the stop of the stairs before I heard voices. I only assumed that maybe Peter or Mohinder had stopped by until I could see down into the loft.

Issac was standing there with a man I didn't recognize and although I couldn't hear what was being said, it seemed like Issac wasn't too happy. And then suddenly Issac was thrown onto the ground and paintbrushes flew into his legs and arms, like some grotesque crucifixion. I covered my mouth to stop myself from screaming, temporarily forgetting that the mug was in my hands. It fell to the ground, shattering rather loudly. On instinct I jumped behind the stairs, my heart pounding in my chest so loud and hard I thought it was going to explode as I slid down the wall into a sitting position.

I could think, I couldn't breathe, I couldn't even cover my ears to block out the sound of Issac's horrible screaming. Tears were trailing down my face and I didn't know which way was up or down. All I knew was that I had to get the hell out of here and fast. Trembling I forced myself to stand up and ran into the kitchen. All I could think was that I needed some kind of a weapon, something to defend myself with, not that it was going to do me any real good.

The screaming stopped and everything when eerily silent, like the calm after a raging storm. Slipping down the stairs as quietly as I could I tried not to stare at the scene before me, but there was no avoiding it or forgetting it and it made me almost vomit. Issac's head was open, brain exposed and I actually retched, my stomach turning as I fought to keep my lunch down as I closed my eyes tightly, trying to block out the horrific image.

When I was finally able to move again I continued sneaking down the stairs. I couldn't see the man and I didn't know where he was and it made me more nervous then if he was standing somewhere in plain view. My nerves felt like guitar strings as I reached the bottom of the stairs, eyes darting wildly. I still couldn't see him, but I could see the door and the street just across the studio. It seemed so close and yet so far away, almost as if it was taunting me.

Summoning all my nerve I broke into a flat-out run, my feet hitting the ground loudly, sounding like gunshots to me. I had almost reached the door when suddenly I couldn't move. It was as if there was some invisible force holding me back and I began to panic.

"Well, what have we here?" The voice was cold, amused, sinister, and enough to make my blood run cold. I was spun around so that I was facing him. He was tall with a good build and some stubble around his chin. He could have been attractive if it wasn't for his eyes. To this day, I could still remember his eyes. Dark brown with the gleam of the devil himself as he stared at me. "Another one?" I knew what he meant, I just didn't want to.

"I don't know what you mean!" I protested, not even knowing what I was protesting against. All I knew was that he was someone with power and he had just killed Issac and probably wanted to do the same to me.

"I think you do." He replied, voice like silken ice as he looked over at one of Issac's older paintings that he had done over the last month. It was a painting of me, surrounded by some fire as I stood by an ocean. In the corner of the picture you could someone's shadow that wasn't mine, but the owner of the shadow was never shown. "I really think you do." Suddenly I was thrown across the room and slammed into a very hard wall, groaning as my back connected to the solid object.

"Who are you?" I asked as I winced from the less then wonderful feeling in my back. He grinned darkly, making him look completely deranged.

"I'm a little offended you haven't heard of me." He replied casually, as if we talking over tea and not Issac's dead body. Then suddenly it all made sense. The brain should have been the dead giveaway but given the current situation I wasn't exactly processing things straight. I gasped, complete cold hard fear taking over the pit of my stomach.

"It's you……." I breathed, a thousand horrible scenarios running through my head, all of them having the same ending of me laying on the ground with my skull empty. "You're the one Mohinder was always talking about……….Sylar." He grinned and applied a little more pressure on the force field around me, making it a little bit hard to breathe.

"Clever girl." He said, but it sounded like anything but praise.

"Get the fuck away from me." I hissed, sounding a hell of a lot braver then I felt. The knife was still gripped in my hands, behind my leg and out of view. I had no idea how it was going to help, but it helped to comfort me just a little.

"No." Sylar replied simply, using his mind to throw me harshly onto the ground. I groaned as my side took the brunt of the damage. I looked at the knife and then suddenly did something very stupid. Forcing myself up before he could use his power to hold me down I grabbed the knife and held it out at him threateningly, willing my hands not to shake.

"Get the fuck away from me." I repeated, knife still gleaming evilly. "I'll kill you, I swear to God." He merely threw back his head and laughed, something mirthless and dark. Without warning the knife flew out of my hand and into the wall behind me, leaving a small slice in my right arm that began bleeding, the blood slowly making it's way down to my hand.

"You were saying?" With nothing but fear and the drive to live guiding me I turned to run towards the doors which slammed shut and locked just as I was about to reach them. "Oh no you don't……. you're not getting out of here anytime soon. At least not, you know, alive." He crossed the room with unnatural speed and grabbed me physically by the throat, holding me against the wall. "What are you?" He demanded, eyes searching mine as if looking for answers. "What's your power?"

"This." I replied before mentally forcing heat to radiate from my body. He hissed and let me go, examining his burnt hand as I crashed to the floor, smashing my knees off the hard ground.

"Firestarter." He concluded as I got to my feet. "Can't wait to try that one out." He again grabbed me and held me with his mind as he raised one finger to my head. And then there was a great deal pain, forcing a bloodcurdling scream from my throat as I temporarily lost all vision. The next thing I knew he was thrown back, his clothes smoking as if from heat. Without really thinking about it I sent mental energy, willing him to burst into fire like a human candle. I could hear his screaming as I ran to the doors and tried to throw them open, momentarily forgetting that Sylar had locked them previously.

"Fuck!" I screamed, throwing my weight against the door and pounding it uselessly. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Then suddenly and idea hit me. Grabbing the lock I forced all of my energy into it, heating it to red-hot and melting it within seconds. Throwing the doors open I ran into the street, blinking from the bright sun that nearly blinded me.

Spotting my car I ran towards it, throwing the car open and desperately looking for my keys which were still in the house. Realizing that I cursed loudly, pounding the steering wheel as if I just expected the stupid thing to come roaring to life. Finally giving up I ran out of the car and down the street, almost blindly except that I had a destination in mind. But I didn't really think about plotting out a course, I just let my feet do the talking.

As I ran I could still hear Issac's screaming, and then Sylar's screaming as I turned him into a human torch. I knew better then to think he was dead. If he could kill so many people with varying abilities then surely I wasn't the one to be his downfall. Peter would have a lot better chance at that then I would. I only had a single power whereas Peter had several, making them pretty evenly matched.

People and buildings whipped by me like stars as I ran, not even being able to feel the pain in my own body which was somewhere screaming for me to take a break. Only I couldn't. Fear rather then determination is what ultimately kept my body moving until I reached a familiar building. Fighting for air and aching I raised my hand and furiously pounded on the door like my life depended on whoever was on the other side opening the door. But I don't think anything in the world could have made it open fast enough.

When the door finally did open and Mohinder came into view, all I could do was burst into tears and hysterics, all of my words coming out at once like some kind of verbal diarrhea.

"SylarwasatIssacsapartmentandhekilledhimandhetriedtokillmeandand-" Mohinder stopped my useless flow of words by raising his hand as if the stem the flow of words running from my mouth.

"Laira, clam down." He said, his voice satin smooth and comforting. "What happened? You look horrible." Taking a deep breath and forcing to make myself sound human I looked him in the eyes as more tears slid out from under my own green ones.

"It's Issac." I said, my voice cracking. "He's-he's dead."

A/N

Ok, so not really a cliffie, but kind of I suppose. Well, there we have it, the next chapter and one of the turning points in my story. The romance is going to start to develop from here on out but there will be some complications as always, I just wanted to firmly establish the kind of connection they had as friends so readers could better understand the romance between them. Anyways it's like 11:30 and I have school in the morning so I'm going the bed. Please review!