Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes.

18 December, 2009

The tree was decorated, and Sylar was settling dozens of perfectly wrapped presents under the tree. Claire had already wrapped hers and hidden them away. She was still a fan of the Christmas morning surprise. The best part of Christmas had always been the big reveal in the morning, despite Claire's refusal to put her gifts to Sylar under the tree, it looked more and more like Christmas with each adjustment to the arrangement.

Sylar stood up and stepped back to look at the tree, "There we go."

The lights flicked off courtesy of Sylar and his telekinesis, the room bathed in the warm light of the Christmas tree. Claire snuggled a little further beneath her blankets, "Perfect."

"You think," Sylar's voice was oddly eager, he knelt on the couch beside her, "is it missing something?"

"No," Claire told him, "all we need to do is take a photo in front of it."

The very thought of their Christmas "family" photo was enough to make the man jump up from the couch and rush back into the bedroom. Claire laughed lightly before reaching for her laptop and flipping the screen up. Claire flipped through her emails, and checked her grades, before a bright green notification popped up on the corner of her screen. Clicking the notification her video-call sparked to life, and momentarily, Peter's face filled the screen.

"Where are you," he asked immediately. "Noah called, repeatedly asking if you had talked to me."

"How are you, Claire? I'm good, Peter, how are you," Claire said pointedly. "I'm fine, Peter, I decided to go have Christmas on my own."

"Why," Peter asked, "you could have come stayed with me."

Claire shook her head, "No, because if I did Angela would be there to breath down my neck."

"Yeah," Peter agreed, "but we could have gone away, maybe Paris."

"Paris," the blonde watched the sly grin take over man's long face. "What brings Paris to mind?"

"I thought maybe we could fly up to the top of the Eiffel Tower and watch the fireworks," the words slipped from his tongue slowly, in the lazy way Peter always seemed to talk.

"Maybe next year, I'm actually enjoying my Christmas break," Claire told him with a smirk.

"All alone," Peter clarified. "Must be some place if you're happy being all alone."

A low chuckled made Claire look up, a smile slipping onto her face at the sight of Sylar, camera in hand. She glanced down; Peter's eyebrows were in his hair they were so high. There it was, the space between the rock and the hard place. "Alone," Peter repeated, "sounds lonely."

"Yes," Claire offered weakly, "alone."

Peter frowned, Claire could practically see him crossing his arms and doing a fair impression of Noah. "Turn the computer around, Claire," Peter demanded flatly.

"Um, no," Claire rejected.

"Yes," Peter ordered. "You have a man in that room, where are you?"

"A hotel," Claire's voice hit a high note.

Peter cleared his throat disapprovingly, "A hotel, Claire, did you pick up a hooker?"

"No," she declared in utter horror. "What the hell, Peter, why would you say that?"

"Well what else could you possibly be hiding," Peter asked, "we're a fairly accepting family, there's really not much that hasn't been done or seen, hookers are at least slightly shameful, although Nathan never really got that memo."

"And too much information," Claire gagged slightly at that news, "why would you tell me that?"

"I told you we lack shame," Peter smirked, "it might be genetic, so you have that to look forward to."

"It's not a hooker," Claire snarled, "He, he is not a hooker." Claire's attention was caught by Sylar who flashed a saucy smirk, waggled his eyebrows and began to tug off his shirt. "Oh my god," Claire breathed in shock.

"What," Peter demanded, a shock of hair flopping into his eyes, "what's wrong?"

She gulped, eyes wide, "Nothing." It was a squeak of a noise as Sylar's belt hit the floor with a soft clink and thunk. Her tongue slipped between her lips to dampen them, her pupils dilated sharply as her attention was entirely riveted on Sylar's little striptease.

"Claire, Claire," Peter repeated her name, trying to grab her attention and failing miserably.

A hand threaded through dark hair as Sylar popped the button on his jeans and the zipper slid down. The whole scene was trouble. Claire was frozen watching him, Sylar looked good, all firm muscle and smooth movements.

Peter breathed heavily through his nose, "Claire!"

"What," she shook her head, "oh, um, I have to go."

"No," her Uncle yelled, "tell me write now who he is, or I'll set…Parkman and Hiro and, and everyone on you!"

"He's a friend, okay," Claire told Peter, "he asked me to spend a little time with him, and I agreed, okay?"

"Claire," Peter breathed, "you're all I have left, who are you with?"

"Someone who cares about me," Claire spoke softly, "and that should be enough for now. I'll talk to you later, Peter, Merry Christmas."

Claire shut the computer right as it was pulled out of her hands and dropped onto the couch beside her.

"You're wrong," Sylar was frank as he pulled Claire up off the couch, "I don't care about you." Claire's lungs itched as her breath caught in her lungs. "Claire, it should be obvious, you should know that I love you."

The confession hung in the air, it wasn't unexpected, but it was startling nonetheless. Sylar and Claire were both cut from a worn and torn cloth. Neither of them were capable of trusting fully, they were building a trust between themselves, but for Sylar to bare his heart so bluntly was unforeseen.

Claire swallowed before wrapping her arms around his waist, pressing her face to his chest, "I ca—"

"You don't have to say anything," Sylar cut her off, long fingers stroking through her hair, "you just need to know."

Claire's eyes slipped closed and every ounce of apprehension drained from her body, "Thank you." She shifted her arms, squeezing a little tighter, "I know that sounds stupid, but it means a lot to hear that and know you mean it."

"I will always mean it," Sylar bowed his head, pressing his lips to the crown of her head, "I have no reason to lie to you, I never have, all I need is you, even if…even if you never love me, as long as you let me be near you, that's all I need."

Small prickles stung Claire's eyes and her throat tightened sorely, she gasped soundlessly at the sensations. She was crying. It was a stupid revelation, clearly she was crying, but it was surprising.

Claire wasn't sure she would ever love Sylar, but she did know she needed him just as much as he needed her. She tightened their embrace, the words sticking in her throat, tiny rivulets of tears tipped down her cheeks. She wanted to say something, to tell Sylar she wasn't a lost cause, that maybe one day she might love him. That she wanted to try at the very least. She couldn't, all she could do was hold him and let her hold him in turn.

A/N: 18/25. I think that Sylar is a little more bold that Claire, he has less to lose and much more to gain. Claire on the other hand has only ever been hurt when she trusts those she loves and likes. Her experiences with men have been on the whole fairly bad, with something this important and permanent I imagine she would have more anxiety about admitting anything.