As always, thank you kindly. :D I hope you like this little chapter—it nearly made me cry writing it! Review!

VVVVVVV

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The Beast, who had been sighing dolefully while she spoke

Now replied,

"I cannot refuse you anything you ask,

Even though it should cost me my life."

VVV

I sat alone by a small fire under an outcropping of rock. It provided a little shelter from the cool wind, which had picked up. I wrapped my arms around my knees and stared blankly at the flames.

After Flynt had released me, I had returned and told Sylar everything. Even now, as I sat there, I couldn't believe my openness with him. I had told him Flynt's terms and time limit in which to make my decision. Sylar had not seemed surprised. Instead, he accepted what I said with a cool nod, and a glance that turned my heart to stone. I am certain that Flynt had expected me to keep all of it to myself. Maybe I should have. But I didn't trust Flynt. And if nothing else, I knew Sylar wanted to rescue Peter, too. I couldn't do that alone.

We had left the hall, and flown to this little spot outside of town, very close to the meeting place Flynt had specified. Then, with a promise that he would return in ten minutes, Sylar had left me, shooting off into the sky, abandoning me to my thoughts.

Footsteps sounded. My heart lurched. Then, I saw Sylar's familiar form move into the light, and I relaxed. He bore a small black backpack, but nothing else. His head was bent, his brow furrowed.

"What did you go do?" I asked. He didn't answer. Instead, he crossed to the other side of the fire, took off the bag and set it down, then crouched beside the flames. He watched their fingers rise and fall. And I watched him—studying each edge and curve of his face. I don't know why I had never noticed it before, but he was almost handsome.

He looked at me. I waited.

"I went to get what's needed to save Peter and Emma," he said quietly.

"So you have a plan," I sat up. He halfway smiled.

"It's very simple. Because it's not my plan."

My gaze sharpened.

"What do you mean?"

"I'll tell you. But you can't interrupt me. Just listen. Okay?"

I held his eyes. Uncertain, I nodded.

"Okay."

VVVVVVVVVV

Silence fell. The quiet sounds of the night surrounded us. But I didn't hear them. All I could see was him—his form soft in the flickering firelight. I felt nothing. The words of his plan seeped into my mind.

"You know what they'll do to you," I murmured. He glanced down at his folded hands.

"Yes. It makes sense." He took a breath. "And it's what hasto be done."

"And…You're willing to do that." It was not a question. He looked at me. His black eyes glittered.

"To make Peter safe for you…" His voice lowered. "I would do more. If that were possible."

I could say nothing. His gaze drifted off into the dark forest. A hint of a smile crossed his lips.

"What?" I whispered.

"Something just came to me," he murmured. "Something I read, a long time ago."

I slowly tilted my head, running my eyes over him.

"What is it?"

He took a breath, still addressing the shadows.

"'It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done," He gazed at me, and now his eyes shone. "'It is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known.'"

I swallowed hard. It hurt.

He got to his feet, and quietly came up to me. My legs suddenly weak, I stood up as well, and faced him. He glanced behind him.

"There's something in the bag…for you," he said, facing me again. "Look at it…after. It's nothing, really. I just want you to promise me you'll read it…after."

A shiver ran all through me, and my brow tightened. That meant something. It had to. It had to mean that there was one more step to his plan, one more element he planned to execute that he wasn't telling me about. Something that had to make this follow through not so dire, not so…final. Yes. There had to be one more step. A back door.

"Okay," I said. "I promise."

And there were his black eyes again—limitless and bright—catching my gaze and not allowing me to move, or even breathe. His eloquent lips parted, as if he was about to say something.

His watch beeped. He jerked, then glanced down at it. He swallowed.

"It's time."

Something inside me tore. He turned and unzipped the bag, then pulled out a long, fiberglass knitting needle. I went completely cold, and my face felt like ice. He came back to me, holding the needle in both hands. He stood just in front of me. I could feel him breathe.

"Claire?" he said.

"Yes?"

"One more thing."

"What?"

He took up my hands. His were warm around my icy ones. He pressed the end of the needle into my grasp, and then directed the pointed tip right up against the soft skin under his jaw. Our eyes locked.

"Make sure you hit the mark," he murmured. "That's the last thing I'll ask you—I hope it isn't too much." His hands gripped mine, tears in his eyes that did not fall. "I trust you to get it right the first time."

My whole body shook. I squeezed my eyes shut for an instant.

"Sylar—"

"You can do it," he murmured. I sucked in a breath.

"You may be making a mistake." My voice trembled. He smiled.

"I've made a lot of mistakes. This isn't one of them." He closed his eyes. "Go ahead."

He let go of my hands. I stood there, holding the knitting needle against his throat for a long moment. His face tightened.

"What?" I demanded, suddenly trying to stall. He swallowed.

"Nothing. It's just…" He let out a short breath. "I would have liked to have seen Peter."

His watch beeped again.

"Hurry, Claire," Sylar murmured. "You don't have much time."

Come on, Claire, That hard voice said again. This is what you wanted all along.

I braced myself with everything I had in me.

And I did what he asked me to do.

TO BE CONTINUED