Disclaimer: I do not own any of these people, places, or things nor the rights to them.

A/N: Sorry this has taken so long. I have been busy and I had to rewrite this section a few times.

Claire sat irritated in the reception area. She was wearing the same sweatshirt that Sylar had bought her and a pair of scrub pants, that Peter's friend, the nurse, had found for her. Her hair still wet was pulled over her left shoulder. Her eyelids felt heavy and mentally she was exhausted. She was sure she would have a pounding migraine if she could feel pain. Worst of all, Peter and his lapdog, were nowhere to be found.

She watched as the man on the couch across from her stood up and walked out of the hospital. She pounced, nearly sprinting across the waiting room. Claire collapsed into the noticeably uncomfortable couch. She sighed, letting her legs extend the full length of the couch. With her eyes closed, sleep was only seconds away as tired as she was.

"Claire, we need to talk," Peter said as he stood next to the couch.

She half opened her left eye looking up at her uncle.

"Talk? Peter, we need to sleep," Claire mumbled closing her eye and flipping the hood of her sweatshirt, trying to force herself to sleep.

"Claire, I am serious, just give me a few minutes, then, you can sleep as long as you want."

"Alright," she said, sitting up, "Shoot."

"First of all, Emma is out of surgery, and she'll probably be fine but they're keeping her here for a few days. More importantly, I heard what happened after the car wreck and it really worries me. This guys coming back and he'll keep coming back unless we stop him," Peter whispered. He had sat on the couch next to her. Sylar had found a seat on the other side of the room.

Claire's eyes went wide with excitement.

"So we're going after him?" the giddiness in her voice was apparent. She had always wanted to go fight the bad guys. Keep others from becoming victims like her.

"Not exactly. We're going to get you out of New York," he said calmly. "We don't want to risk anyone else we know with abilities."

"I am not running. I am not hiding. I have done that all of my life. I didn't jump off of a ferris-wheel in front of the world to go with you and Sylar on some excursion to run away from this psycho."

"Don't think of it as running. It's more like leading him away from other people with abilities. But," Peter cringed, "I can't go."

"What?" she virtually yelled.

"Listen, Sullivan and Doyle got away. Odds are they are coming for Emma. I can't leave her now. I didn't come this far to save her and then desert her when she needed me even more."

"Let me get this straight, you want me to evade a psychopath by enlisting the help of another, probably more dangerous, psychopath. And, you expect me to play along like he didn't kill my biological father and mother. What the hell makes you trust him this much?"

"He's going to explain that to you while you're driving. It's going to take a long time to explain. And, you guys will have a long time," Peter smiled trying to get Claire to play along.

"No. I can't."

"Claire, I love you. Do you love me?"

"Don't play this game. This is even below Lyle standards," Claire said straight faced.

"Do you?"

"Of course I love you, Pete, but-"

"But, sometimes you have to make a sacrifice for the people you love," Peter interrupted, "And, I will only feel like you're safe if you're with Gabriel. This guy can't get your ability. Plus, it will only be for a little while."

"What will you tell my dad?" Claire conceded.

"I will deal with Noah. But, you guys need to get going now," Peter said with some urgency.

"What about a car, money, clothes? We're not ready."

"I made a few calls. I am having one of my mother's 'helpers' drop off a car. The rest of it Gabriel will figure out once you're out of the city."

Peter stood and nodded to Sylar to follow them to the door. The three stood at the exit, waiting for someone to say something. Each one of them felt the importance of the moment, knowing that they each had a part to play, and knowing that what they were doing was necessary but completely dangerous.

Peter turned first to his niece. He hugged her tightly, as he often did. And kissed her on the forehead.

"Take care of him, Claire. He's not as bad as you think."

Then, Peter turned to the man he had spent the most recent years of his life in solitude with. Shaking his hand Peter searched the multitude of abilities in Sylar's repertoire. Power exchanged from hand to hand as Peter found the telekinetic power he was after.

"Sorry. But, Claire's ability won't help me against Doyle and Sullivan," Peter reasoned.

"I understand, Pete. Just be safe," Sylar pleaded.

"I will." Then Peter leaned in to tell Sylar a secret he had learned about women over his few relationships. "Buy her something. It's the easiest way to get into her good graces."

Claire punched him in the arm as Peter laughed at his own wit. Peter walked them out to the black Land Rover that waited in front of the hospital. Sylar got into the drivers seat, Claire in the passengers. Peter waved as the car disappeared down the street heading south.

Claire looked over at Sylar. Every emotion she was feeling was conveyed through her groan: exhaustion, annoyance, frustration, and irritation. Reclining the seat and turning on her side to face away from him, she quickly fell asleep.

Sylar stared at her as she slept. "I should be paying more attention to the road," he thought to himself. He looked back at the road for only a second. The pair of tiny red taillights miles in front of him confirmed his sense of isolation. His piercing eyes trailed back to her. Every passing car or streetlight illuminated her sleeping body for only a second, and then she drifted back into the darkness of the passenger seat. Even with her masked in the dark, he felt her. Her scent filled the car, dancing into his nostrils every time his mind drifted off of her. He hated it. He hated himself. He had always convinced himself it was her ability that led to his infatuation with her. But, it wasn't and now that he had stuck himself with her, he realized it was a lot more than that.

The rumble under the tires of the Land Rover broke his concentration. The strip of hard road outside the lane was meant to keep people from sleeping or getting distracted. It served its purpose twofold as his attention darted back to the road and she poked her head up still in between sleep and consciousness. She looked out the dark road in front of her; at this hour cars were scarce. Then, she looked back at him with half opened eyes. His were eyes fixed on the road now, avoiding her's.

Turning her back to him and pulling the hood of her sweatshirt over her head, she mumbled annoyed, "Hey, don't get us killed."

A smiled appeared for a moment over his face, but washed off as stared back at her as she had already return to her dream. Reaching out one finger he gently moved the blanket over her bare left arm using Brian Davis's ability. He didn't dare touch her as badly as he wanted to. He feared her skin would burn on contact. Something so tarnished touching something so pure would never result well.

He focused back on the road, the smell of Claire again dancing through his nose.