Because dangit, I can't wait an entire week to find out what's going to happen.
(Maybe) takes place during An Invisible Thread
He's definitely convinced, now, that the madness is on the retreat. And- he can just tell- it's all thanks to her.
It's a shame that Claire is still so… misguided. She's been led onto all the wrong paths by her family, and has developed all sorts of strange ideas as a result. But that's alright, he can show her the right path again. He can help her along; forcefully, if necessary.
Still, it's a little bit worrying that, when he first releases control of her jaw, the first words she says could be classified as profanity.
He flicks his fingers to snap her jaw shut again, then leans closer to frown at her mockingly. Her eyes are glaring, not even daggers, but machetes at him, which is terribly fascinating. His frown twitches back into a smile. "Now, Claire, we won't make any progress if you won't cooperate."
She lets out a noise that's half between a growl and a sigh- he's only letting her throat move so much. Maybe she's agreeing with him. Why not, he'll go with that. He lets her go again, her entire head this time, so she can turn it to face him.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she manages to splutter as soon as she's (somewhat) free.
"Talking." His smile is still in place. Surprisingly, he's realizing that he'd actually missed her constant back-talk. "About you. You ought to be flattered."
She looks away, rolling her eyes. "And your creepiness factor has just gone up to a whole new level."
Hell, he'd missed her, too.
"Come on, Claire, it's better this way." He wanders over to the set of cabinets nearby, idly picking up a decanter. "I could be out there, obtaining more powers… killing more people… you know, your father really ought to be dead right now."
She doesn't even need to ask which one; he supplies the answer for her. "Bennet, I mean. Not bio-daddy. Though Nathan hardly deserves his powers in the first place."
"Keep your mouth off my family," she growls, turning her head back towards him.
"Family?" He actually laughs. "They're fractured, Claire. Broken. I doubt even I could fix them anymore. They won't be a family for much longer."
He half-expects her to cry, but she starts cussing him out again instead, surprising another laugh out of him. He wanders back over, sliding the decanter onto the table. Wonders what he could possibly say that would shut her up. And, as always, comes up with the obvious answer- the truth.
"Have you ever stopped to think about how much we have in common, Claire?"
The stream of curses abruptly stops, punctuated by a sharp "Nothing."
"Don't play stupid." He casually reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, which he thinks is quite considerate, seeing as she can't do it herself. She looks a little ill. "We're both immortal, for one thing."
"I am not having this conversation with you." She pauses, looks away. "And I gave you that, anyway."
"Both stubborn," he continues. "Both cold-blooded killers- you know you are, given the opportunity."
Surprisingly, he's now managed to put tears in her eyes, though whether they're from sadness or anger or just embarrassment, he can't tell. He nudges her shoulder. The tears abruptly stop as she flinches away.
"Both adopted," he says quietly. "Both betrayed by our own parents."
She shakes her head, looking away.
"Face it, Claire." He pops the cork out of the bottle and pours wine into both glasses, enjoying the sight of Claire's face going from annoyed to flabbergasted. "You and I were made for each other."
There's silence for a few beats, as he pushes a glass towards her and picks up his own. Claire's mouth is opening and closing, like she wants to say something but can't find the words. He'd like to think that she's speechless from delight, but he's not an idiot. He kind of ruined her life in the past. It will take a while to fix things again.
"… well then." She swallows. "You've obviously gone crazy." Claire pauses, and then frowns. "Or, at least, crazy in a more obvious way?"
He considers, sipping at his wine, and then smiles. "Nah."
"You- you just- let me go, okay?" She starts struggling against her invisible bonds again, until he sighs and tightens them. "You already have my power, and I don't want to have anything else to do with you!"
Intriguingly, a shiver runs up his spine at her last sentence. She's lying. And that's fascinating. So he taps a finger against the side of his head. "Built-in lie detector, remember?"
Cheerleader looks good in red. He had noticed that fact long before, though it was in a much different situation- he has to admit, however, that blushing cheeks are far more appealing than a blood-soaked forehead.
"That, well- that has nothing to do with- stop smiling!"
Sylar is starting to get bored of this game of cat-and-mouse, so he decides to cut to the chase. "Say what you want. However, you have to realize- you're immortal. I'm immortal. We're both going to be stuck on this world for quite a while. Do you really want to spend that entire time afraid of me?"
"I'm not afraid of you," she snaps, her words venomous. "I hate you."
He raises an eyebrow, sipping at the wine again. "Hate, hmm? Strong emotion, that one. I'll settle for it, for now."
"And you can just take your- what?" She blinks, looking confused.
"As long as you hate me, right now, I'm satisfied," he continues, cheerful. "It will keep you from forgetting me."
"You're insane," she whispers.
"We have all the time in the world," he reminds her. "You can't hate me forever, Claire. That hate will turn into something else, someday. I can wait."
"Something else?" she says, scornful. "Like what? Nausea?"
He doesn't say anything- he just puts down his glass and reaches out again, gently runs his thumb over her cheek. She doesn't flinch away, this time, she just stares him down, and her eyes show hurt and confusion and anger and so many wonderfully complex emotions. She's so much more interesting than a watch.
"Consider it," he says quietly, seriously. "Don't have to give an answer now- just someday."
Of course, that's exactly the moment that the Petrelli brothers burst into the room, ready to save the day and rescue their golden-haired princess. Sylar leaps to his feet, gathering up electricity in his hands, but overall, he's still pleased.
Because he knows- and when Sylar knows, he knows- that she'll come around someday.