Title: Forget Me Not

Author: Bunny

Rating: T

Disclaimer: I in no way own any part of Heroesverse.

Summary: Set around Shadowboxing; Claire discovers an amnesiac Sylar wandering around and takes it upon herself to help him.

A/N: I apologize for the overall shortness of this chapter; I have been disgustingly sick and any spare energy, which hasn't been too much, has been going towards my classes. X-P

On a mountain he sits, not of gold, but of sin

Through the blood he can learn, see the life that it turn

From council of one he'll decide when he's done

With the innocent on his face is a map of the world.

~ From Yesterday; 30 Seconds to Mars

Chapter 2

Claire slapped his hand away with significant force and kicked back her feet in an attempt to scoot away. "No, no, no, no," she murmured, "You're dead, for good this time. We all stood there and watched your body burn away to ash. There was nothing left." He moved to try and reach out to her again. "Do not touch me!" she screamed, moving back farther.

As though her cry had burned him, Sylar's hand flinched back to his side. Confusion laced his face as he attempted to apologize, "I don't know what happened, but I am sorry for what I did to you –"

"Save the forgiveness crap," she snapped, corner of her eye roaming for a nearby weapon. Even with the exceptional moonlight it was difficult to see details. "You've tried it before and it was just as false then. Even if you are sincere, with everything you've done to me and my family you do not deserve to even ask."

Sylar's brow moved to an even more confused and worried expression, "What sort of things have I done?"

"Drop the act, Sylar," Claire spat. Spotting a glint on her right, she began to scoot slowly over to it. "All you do is take and take, so what do you want to take from me this time?"

Still on his knees from knocking into her, Sylar began to move closer to her in earnest, "What did I take from you?"

Incredible fury bubbled up from Claire's stomach up to her throat. How dare he pretend to not remember. Whatever game he was playing was taking it too far. Without looking she reached behind to grasp onto the broken bottle she spotted earlier. "This!" she yelled. In one smooth move she plunged the shard into Sylar's chest.

With a cry of intense pain, Sylar flew backwards staring in shock at the blood bubbling out from the wound. As soon as he moved back, Claire got up and prepared to run back the way she came. However, before she could even take her first step she grunted as she found herself thrust chest first against the nearest brick wall. She blinked and was flipped around as her back was now pinned to the wall.

Tears sprang up into her eyes and her breathing became labored as memories of the last time this happened flashed back. Choking for air Claire looked over to see his finger was pointed out, slowly twisting as though considering his options. Meeting Sylar's eyes all she saw was blank darkness, just like before. "Why?" she gasped out as tears began to roll down her cheek.

When her voice broke the silence, the cold killer eyes faded and guilt flooded Sylar's face. "No," he stated firmly, lower his hand quickly. Claire fell to the ground on her hands and knees. Planning to get up and run again, she paused when noted Sylar inspecting his hand as though it were a foreign object. Slowly he moved to prod at the glass still sticking out of his chest.

It was as though every move he made were new to him; as though all his powers appeared to be a mystery. "Just pull it out," said Claire, before she could stop herself.

The quick snap of his head indicated he had forgotten she was still there. Staring at her dumbfounded, he asked blankly, "Won't I bleed out?"

"Are you serious?" she exclaimed, absolutely perplexed by his question. Crawling over to him Claire grasped the makeshift weapon and, through his protests, yanked it out with one swift pull.

Inhaling deeply as the wound healed, Sylar poked where the incision once had been. Claire gulped involuntarily as he looked at her with childlike wonder. "How did you know that would happen?"

"What is wrong with you?" she asked, beyond confused by this point. Taking the glass that was still dirtied with his blood; she rubbed it deeply across her forearm as he hissed at her action. Her own blood flowed out to mix with his and the dirt on the glass. Claire watched his face light up in amazement as she felt the skin knit back in place.

Sylar reached out to stroke the mended skin, the warm contact made her inhale sharply. He looked up at her with eyes brimming with tears of his own and Clarie couldn't believe the tired innocence that shone through. "Didn't that hurt?"

"You took my pain," she replied quietly, surprised by his concern. "I want it back."

Dropping her arm Sylar stared at his hands. "They told me I was a killer," he stated blankly, still inspecting his hands. "Is that true?"

"They?" she asked calmly. She shook her head focusing on his main query. "Don't you know?"

"Am I?"

The pitifully broken voice that emitted from him with those two words affected Claire more than she cared to admit. Her chest felt as though it had been stabbed through with the glass and she could feel every part of it. "Yes," she admitted as plainly as possible.

Sylar ducked his head in shame and turned his body from her. "Anyone you cared about?"

"Yes."

"Who?"

Part of her mind snapped with the last question as a flash of anger pulsed through her veins. "Why do you care?"

"Because I don't want to be a killer!" snapped Sylar, spinning back to her. Claire's anger dissipated as she reared back. He stood, grasping his hair in frustration. "They told me I was one, it was all I was good at! I overheard them planning to make me an assassin, but I don't want that life! I won't be a play thing! I won't kill anyone!"

Sylar thudded his head into the brick breathing heavily in an attempt to control himself. The blonde's jaw hung open as she blinked a few times. He really didn't remember. His stance, his facial tics, the fact he didn't recognize his powers or remember who his victims were. Taking a few slow breaths to calm herself, Claire stood up and stepped over to the man. "Sylar," she started gently. "Who are 'they'?"

A moment of silence screamed between the pair before he turned to face her and she was once again struck by the simple innocence about him. "It was a carnival," he started, "a place full of people with abilities. The man with the big plans, his name was Samuel."

"Samuel," Claire repeated. At his nod she asked, "Samuel Sullivan?"

Obviously surprised she recognized that name, he remarked, "It is not fair how much you seem to know, even for a blonde."

Before she could help it, the corner of Claire's mouth lifted into a grin. "Looks like even though you don't seem to remember yourself, you can remember insulting jests." For the first time, ever she realized with a spare thought, Sylar gave a true smile. Not a triumphant smirk, not a sardonic lip quirk, not a pleased glower. And that smile was like his soul was shining through. This man might have Sylar's body, but he wasn't the monster she had grown to know. "Where were you going?"

"Away," he shrugged. "I don't know. I just had to get away."

Once again before she could stop herself, her mouth said, "Why don't you come home with me?" As soon as the words left, Sylar's entire body seemed to become less heavy. Claire thought the moment she made her proposition she would have felt sick or terrified, but instead she was relaxed.

"For how long?" he asked, suddenly very unsure of the situation.

"Until you start to feel…I would say like yourself, but I'm going to settle for better," she explained with a gentle smile. Suddenly becoming stern, Claire pointed a finger at him, "But I swear, if you are screwing with me for some greater purpose I get to have the opportunity to kill you. As many times as I want."

Sylar gave a notable pause. "Did anyone tell you that you're a little scary?" She blinked. The monster from her nightmares and walking terrors thought she was scary? Claire started to walk back to her apartment with Sylar following close behind. Once back on a main road he asked, "By the way, what's your name?"

Her mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. This was beyond weird. "Claire."

"Claire," he repeated. Another full smile appeared. "It's nice."