Title: Forget Me Not

Author: Bunny

Rating: M

Disclaimer: It's not mine, I'm not making money from this, and I am broke. Don't sue me!

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

A/N: Hello, did I fall off the face of the Earth for awhile? Just a little bit! Being super sick, finals, exchange students in the home, followed by more finals all tend to leave very little time for sleep, let alone fun time fic writing. But I'm back now!

A/N 2: Note the rating increase for this chappie. What could that possibly mean? (wink wink, nudge nudge) Anyhoo I separated the smexy smexy time with a different divider so it can be skipped if so desired (Like "Q~Q~Q~Q~Q" before and after). And… I think that's everything! :)

Chapter 6

Screaming in the dark, I howl when we're apart
Drag my teeth across your chest to taste your beating heart
My fingers claw your skin, try to tear my way in
You are the moon that breaks the night for which I have to howl

~ Howl; Florence + The Machine

The entire way back neither spoke to each other, each contemplating their own ideas about the encounter. Thankfully they did not run into anyone until reaching the hallway to Claire's apartment. As they came to the door Sweetie approached from the other end of the hall. A basket of laundry propped against her side, her jaw dropped as she took in their appearance. Both covered in smoke smears and dirt as a result of the explosion and fire, not to mention Claire's clothes being tattered to shreds and covered in blood.

"Let me guess," started the older woman with an entirely doubtful look that communicated through her body. "Another mugging?"

"Uh, yeah," agreed Claire getting her keys out of her pocket.

Sweetie's hip popped to an unhealthy degree as she pursed her lips in a disappointed manner. "Honey child, I know you've been keeping things from me. And that goes for you too, hot cheeks," she tilted her head towards Sylar to let him know he was included. "A little bit of truth goes a long way with me."

Brain absolutely muddled from the night Claire opened and closed her mouth several times to try and think of something, anything, to tell her neighbor, but nothing logical came to mind. "A man from my past came back to threaten me," spoke Sylar. Well that was simple enough.

Pointing an uncertain finger at the blonde's even more disheveled appearance, Sweetie asked, "Positive it was just you?"

"Crossfire," she breathed out, relieved this would actually prove to be enough.

An eyebrow rose. "And is said man going to be coming back again?"

"Pretty sure he's dead," replied Sylar with no remorse, but then again Claire felt much the same way.

Instead of fretting or becoming frightened, Sweetie simply nodded and used her free hand to rub a smudge off of Sylar's jaw. "Why don't you shower in my home, that way you both can get clean faster."

"I don't mind waiting –" began Sylar.

Holding a finger up for silence, the old woman shook her head. "Wasn't a request. I still have some clothes you can wear too. Come on." Thrusting the basket into his hands, she grabbed him by the shoulder and dragged the man to her door.

"Sweetie, can I ask one more favor?" asked Claire, coherent thoughts coming in and out of her mind. She stopped to wait for the request, so she continued. "If any cops come by asking about me, could you say I got back an hour ago?"

"Right, both of you came back an hour ago," she repeated.

"Not the both of us," Claire clarified quickly. "Just me. You've never seen him before if those questions come up. Please?"

Once more looking dissatisfied with the information before her, Sweetie pressed her lips together again. "You both best tell me more later, but I'll do it since you asked so nicely."

"Good," sighed Claire, putting the key into the lock with one hand and already slipping her shoes off with the other. "I cannot wait to wash my own blood off of me." Not glancing back to see if Sweetie did a double take, she shut the door.

Shuffling to her room, she was barely aware of grabbing clothes before going to the bathroom. Setting them on the counter Claire caught her reflection in the mirror and she did a double take. No wonder Sylar kept giving her concerned side looks and Sweetie stopped when she saw her. Nearly every part of her was covered in blood. The hair on her left side was disheveled, discolored, and crusty. Her face was spotted with red and lines streaked across her forehead, temple, and mouth. Remembering the deep incision along her neck, she lifted her jaw to inspect the healed cut and blood that had oozed down past the collar of her shirt. Stripping off her ruined clothes she gaped at the amount of reddish brown all over her. There was very little of her actual skin color coming through. There were numerous dark streaks indicating where Edgar's blade had passed over her and every one of those had bled a considerable amount.

She hadn't really felt any of it.

The ruined clothes on the ground were so caked with blood they nearly stood up on their own. Disgusted, she shoved them into the waste basket and switched on the water to the shower. The handle was turned all the way to the cold side when she stepped in. As the stream pelted overhead she stared down to watch the constant flow of red and brown swirling down the drain. The color starkly stood out from the white porcelain tub and seemed never to end. Alarmed by the amount that continuously came off of her, Claire looked at the dried blood still all over her. It seemed to not be coming off.

Reaching out from behind the shower curtain she grabbed a washcloth. Wiping it along her arm, Claire worked to get the muted red off of her. When the washcloth turned colors but the stain remained on her skin, she scrubbed harder. The more she scrubbed the more red the washcloth changed to and the dirtier her arm became.

Stopping suddenly, she watched the flesh mend back together and Claire realized she had rubbed her arm raw.

She hadn't even felt it.

A sob racked across her chest and Claire covered her mouth to stifle it. Hearing herself cry only caused the tears to flow freely. Unable to stop crying, Claire slowly slid to the floor of the tub. The stream of water came down on her head, a stream that she barely registered as absolutely freezing. Burying her face in her knees, she continued to sob at the realization that she was losing the ability to feel basic sensations.

Not being able to feel pain was old news in her world, but even when something hurt her body she would be able to register something happening. She had been consciously aware of maybe a tenth of what Edgar had done to her, and the current water temperature would have bothered her a few weeks ago.

In that moment a feeling of intense loneliness nearly swallowed her whole.

She was turning into an empty shell who didn't really have many connections to the world.

She had one dad who continued to lie to her, another who wouldn't return her phone calls, a mom and brother who would never understand, and an uncle who was preoccupied with the impossible task of saving everybody in the world. Any outsider who learned of her secret left in the end and those who didn't wanted nothing to do with her. Any special who might understand made it clear it was a life they did not want to speak about. Except one.

Claire couldn't help the giggle that passed through her lips as she realized that Sylar was the exception. The jamais vu had made him forget how items felt, tasted, and smelled so he constantly experienced new things. Though her predicament was the reverse, it was a relief to know that someone else was having issues similar to her.

Resolved to be done crying and to talk with Sylar afterwards, Claire opened her eyes. The water running to the drain was clear and there was no more blood or dirt on her. Finishing up, she dried off and slipped into sleep shorts and a short sleeved v-neck shirt.

Shaking fingers through her still wet hair, she stepped to the main room to find Sylar pacing. He was also clean, wearing a zipper hoodie and sweatpants from Sweetie. As soon as he spotted her in the doorway he rushed to her side, hands hovering over her shoulder and arms in an attempt to respect her distance wishes. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," she stated with more certainty than she felt. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Did you not see yourself?" he asked incredulously, checking her over for marks they both knew wouldn't be there.

"It happens, you know that better than anyone –"

"Let me look at you," he interrupted, not at all paying attention to what she was trying to say. Taking a hold of her wrist, Sylar led her to the table. With two hands, he took her by the waist and lifted her so she could sit on the wooden surface. The squeak that she emitted went ignored as he commenced checking her over.

He took her calf with both hands and rubbed his fingertips over the smooth skin. Unable to help herself, a blush floated onto her face and her breathing increased. He continued stroking an irregular pattern up her legs slowly, breaking occasionally to move to another portion. Every touch, every stroke warmed her to the marrow. Every time Sylar moved away a different part of her mind cried out, then every time he came back into contact that same part her mind flared to life.

His fingers trailed up to the edge of her shorts and Claire stopped breathing all together as her stomach dropped, but it definitely wasn't from fear. Not moving up any further Sylar switched to her other leg. "Could you feel it when he cut you?" So he had been copying the blows Edgar had delivered.

"No." Mouth suddenly very dry, she swallowed to ignore his face so close to her leg. "Not once."

Only fascination showed on Sylar's face as he looked up to her, hands still on her leg. "Can you feel me?"

"Yeah." Claire giggled from both the double entendre within that statement and the fact he reached a particularly sensitive space on the inside of her knee. "It kind of tickles."

Smiling from her reply, he resumed his exploration. Once more stopping at Claire's shorts, once more leaving her hot and breathless, Sylar moved to her arm. Finishing quickly with that one, he went to the other until he had traced over the invisible blade marks. Without even asking, he lifted up the bottom of her shirt to expose her stomach. Gasping at the bold move, Claire didn't complain as fingers moved along her stomach and hips. She gripped the edge of the table to stop herself from doing something she would later regret.

The longer he touched her, the more aware of her surroundings she became, the harder blood pumped through her veins, the more flushed her skin turned, the more she wanted him. As one hand replaced her shirt Sylar's other hand went to her neck, leaning in so close she could feel his breath. In order to see the back of her neck, he nudged her knees apart so he could stand between her legs. Claire bit her lip to stifle the gasp that rose up as he leaned in, stroking her hair to the side to properly see her skin. Strangely, the non-lustful way he was looking at her was one of the sexiest things she had ever encountered.

Coming back around to inspect her face his fingers trailed over her cheeks, temples, jaw. When he passed over her lips the rush of blood in her head increased to a deafening level. Knowing that he had completed looking at her Claire sensed he was about to step away. Not ready to lose feeling sensations, she grabbed onto his hands to have him continue holding her face. Sylar appeared surprised by her sudden movement as he stayed where he was.

She wasn't sure of how much time passed as she grasped onto his wrists tighter, leaning her face in his hand. As a tear rolled down her cheek confusion and desire settled inside her. In a broken voice she asked, "Why am I letting you touch me?"

With a thumb, Sylar brushed away the tear trail. He suddenly realized how she was looking at him and his inquisitive look was replaced with one of want. Not a freaky selfish want, but a lustful one. Which Claire was more than fine with, but why? Searching her face as though for an answer, he replied, "Because I understand."

No other explanation needed, Claire leaned the short distance to place her lips on his. Once, twice, then it kept repeating until she lost count. When she could tell he wasn't going to move away she released his hands and wrapped her arms around his neck to bring him closer. Sylar's own hands roamed down her back, sliding just under the hem of her shirt to reach her skin. She could feel it still. Wanting more skin contact, and without breaking the never ending stream of kisses, Claire used her left hand to unzip his hoodie. Pushing it off over his shoulder, Sylar let go of her for a moment to shrug it off. Eyes closed through the movements, she could tell he was not wearing a shirt underneath. She would have to thank Sweetie later.

The kisses in the beginning had been slow, as though testing if there was a limit. Discovering that no limit would be reached any time soon they had intensified and increased. Gone was the unsure guy who had lived with her for several days and here was a man who knew how to get exactly what he wanted. To pull herself closer Claire wrapped her legs around his waist. Enjoying the change, Sylar leaned forward so her back laid against the eating surface.

"Not on the table," she managed to gasp out in between kisses. She could feel Sylar smile up against her mouth as he sat her back up. Readjusting his grip he lifted her up and Claire let out a squeak as he carried her back to the bedroom.

Q~Q~Q~Q~Q

Once through the door Sylar spun around pinning her up to the wall. His fingers went through and tugged at her hair as she clawed at his bare back. The sound that could be heard in the room was the noise from their fervent kisses and the moans that emanated from both. When Sylar's lips didn't immediately return to hers, Claire opened her eyes in confusion only to roll them back as he trailed down her neck. Every suck and nibble tingled across her skin.

A particular spot at the base of her neck caused Claire to gasp out quite loudly. At the noise Sylar chuckled against her skin, repeating the gesture a few times before moving on. He continued along her exposed skin until he reached the hem of her collar. Much to Claire's surprise, his mouth jumped down to take her nipple through her shirt. The fabric stuck to her skin as it became wet even as his teeth and tongue maneuvered the nub.

The attention her body was being paid made her hips buck against him. The shifting she was doing hit Sylar in a rather sensitive area below the waistband. In response he bit down harder on her nipple and moaned to let her know he liked it. As she grinded against him, she became aware that there was nothing but a thin layer of sweatpants material separating him from the world. Once again, she would have to thank Sweetie later.

So wrapped up in processing all the sensations, Claire was almost unaware of having her shirt taken off. After throwing the fabric somewhere behind him, Sylar leaned down to play with her other breast and her breathing grew heavier. As much as she was enjoying the attention she became more desperate for additional physical contact. Looking down to see he was still occupied Claire slid a hand down his waistband, proving her commando theory. As soon as she touched his member, Sylar stopped all motions momentarily and concentrated on her actions. She was glad she was so easily able to affect him as she continued to gently stroke him.

Noticing she was in control for the moment, with her other hand Claire pushed off from the wall. Using her higher position and weight she maneuvered them to fall into bed, causing an "Oomf" from both. The mattress bounced as Sylar flipped so he was on top of her. He kissed his way back up, taking an extra moment at the base of her neck making her stomach drop with need and fingers clutch onto him even more. When his mouth came back up to hers the pair shared a few lazy moments just to enjoy the firm kisses. Now confident hands moved over backs, jaws, hair, sides, anywhere they could get contact and an audible reaction from the other.

Claire took her hands off just long enough to start to slide her shorts off. Eagerly Sylar copied her actions with his own bottoms, sighing with a little relief when he was no longer restricted. As his knee nudged her legs apart, Claire knew what was to come next and her entire body was flushed and shaking with anticipation. He leaned up a bit to get the right angle and, while still tightly lip locked, slid home.

Had his mouth not been over hers at the time, he wouldn't have been able to stifle the scream that came from her. It felt as though every nerve in her body were trying to extend from her fingertips and toes. Her stomach pulled down even more with desire as Claire arched off the bed. The intense reaction wasn't from pain, as that was impossible, but from intense sensory over load. Best part, she hadn't even come yet.

Sylar knew that her response was one of pleasure so he immediately began moving at a consistent pace. His controlled pattern faltered when Claire brought her legs up to hook them on his back, which in turn caused his thrusts to go deeper. "Right there," she gasped out, meeting him pump for pump. He pulled at her locks, she bit at his chest, he growled in approval, she dug her nails into him. Involuntarily her inner muscles flexed from constant stimulation which caused Sylar arch into her suddenly and stop all movement. Breathing heavily and body crying out from lack of motion, Claire brushed his hair aside to look at him. "Go ahead," she assured, body and mind more happy than she had been in ages.

He grinned at her, pecking her forehead before gliding to her ear to whisper, "I want to watch you come first." Her breath caught and limbs went rigid at the suggestion, leading Sylar to chuckle as he picked up his pace from before. Once at the intensity from before he leaned in again, "Ready?"

"You seem awful sure of yourself," she breathlessly stated swiveling her hips in a different way, glad to see his face wince in concentration. Once more he paid attention to the pulse points on her neck as fingers trailed down along her belly and across her chest. Before she could realize it, Sylar simultaneously managed to suck on her sensitive neck spot, pinch at a nipple, and rub at her clit. It didn't take her long at all to cry out loudly.

Claire couldn't help it. She had absolutely no control over herself for a few moments. Her toes and fingers curled so tightly she felt they might break. Her chest felt so light she might be able to fly away. It felt as though she were finally able to breathe for the very first time, yet was drowning simultaneously.

Finishing off her vocal cry as she came down from her high, she watched in turn as Sylar picked up speed. Though there were remaining spasms from her orgasm, she squeezed her inner walls as tightly as she could around him. With a roar he thrust into her one final time before collapsing onto her absolutely spent.

Q~Q~Q~Q~Q

Samuel rubbed at his chin as he stared intently at the faint ink still swirling on Lydia's back. Ever since Edgar had left the Carnival Master had done nothing but sit and stare at the smoky figure. Suddenly the faintly gray swirl switched to stark black. Standing so quickly, the stool Samuel was on knocked over. He came up to touch the picture. "There it is."

"There's no form though," noted Lydia through closed eyes.

"Well there wouldn't be, would there?" He continued to stroke her back with awe. "I suppose we're lucky to be seeing even this much."

Tears of happiness and relief welled in Samuel's eyes as he stepped back. Lydia covered herself back up, an irritated look upon her face. "I hope this is worth the burns that Edgar sustained."

Samuel's smile faltered only slightly as he replied. "I have no doubt that Edgar will heal in time." Taking her hand he led her out into the open. "Now, to share the good news and begin preparations for our new arrival."

X~X~X~X~X

A thin layer of sweat still glistened on their bodies as they lay together. Claire's head rested on his shoulder as she messed with his chest hair. Sylar stroked her arm and had his face up against her hair. She let out a contented sigh as he chuckled softly. Tilting her head up in curiosity, a still dazed looking Sylar grinned. "My body is telling me that was the best time it has ever had."

Though it was impossible for him to know that for sure, it didn't stop her from letting out a pleased laugh of her own. "Yeah," she agreed, brain muddled. "That was… yeah…" Embarrassed at the inability to communicate properly she ducked her head down.

"You don't regret this do you?"

"What? No," Claire insisted sitting up. "Why? Do you?"

"Not at all," he assured with an even bigger grin. As his fingers trailed along her back, he pointed out. "It all happened fast considering up until then you didn't want me to even touch you."

"No, I don't think I'll ever regret this," she repeated lying down. Hesitating, she added, "Doesn't mean I might not think this was a bad idea later."

Sylar's moving fingers on her arm faltered for a moment before continuing. "Is that because of the complete me?" Not needing to answer she remained silent, just enjoying his presence and touch. Out of the blue he stated, "If there was any question you could have asked me back then what would it have been?"

"Seriously?" asked Claire, turning so her chin rested on his chest. That was the last thing she had expected for him to say next. As odd the request and out of all the things he had done, there was one fact that popped up as odd in her head. "My shoes."

His eyebrow rose.

"The day that you took my ability. I was immobile, you were bleeding to death, and in minutes you would have had my power. But not only did you take the time to put me up on the coffee table, you also took off the shoes I was wearing. I was just wondering why?"

Sylar nodded thoughtfully. "That is bizarre."

Claire smiled faintly until something he had said earlier caught up with her. "You said 'the complete me'. Do you not feel alright?" He avoided her gaze, looking anywhere but at her. Though worried at what the answer may mean, she placed a hand on his cheek. "It's okay."

"A part of me is missing, Claire," he said. The light pouring in from the hall cast sharp shadows along his face causing the look of guilt to appear more intense. "My mind is lost and I want it back. It's better when I'm around you, but I can still feel that hole."

This was going to end badly, Claire was certain of it. Sooner or later, he would be back to his arrogant, selfish, murderous self with all the memories of their time together and undoubtedly he would find a way to use it against her. Despite this knowledge floating in the back of her brain, she didn't care.

Instead she once again sighed and settled comfortably against his shoulder. "We have right now at least." Sylar pressed his lips against the top of her head.

X~X~X~X~X

"She's been married seven times before! And everyone was an Henry, she wouldn't have a Willy or a Sam!" The persistent voice penetrated Matt's mind, waking him from his hazy sleep. The first thing he was aware of was the unspeakable pain in his torso every time he breathed or shifted. He doubted anything could be worse than this. "I'm her eighth old man, I'm Henry! Henry the VIII I am!"

He stood corrected. Moaning, Matt tried to bring his hands up to his ears to make the noise stop, but they had been strapped down. Opening his eyes for the first time in several days caused him to be blinded from the sunlight glaring through the window. The involuntary jerk his body exhibited made the imaginary figure by his bed clap his hands in joy.

"Finally!" exclaimed Sylar, leaning forward. "Seriously Matt, I can't even begin to tell you how boring it has been just sitting here."

Groaning, Matt turned his head and closed his eyes in a vain attempt to block him out. "Come on, man. I just woke up from a coma after being shot."

"Yeah, I know, and whose fault was that?" Sylar tapped the side of Matt's head. Though incorporeal, the message got through. "And now you are locked away in here, suffering considerable physical pain, and no one but me to keep you company." Throwing back his head to laugh, Sylar leaned back in the chair he sat in. "Second verse, same as the first! Henry the VIII I am! Henry the VIII I am, I –"

"Stop! Stop!" pleaded Matt. "I hate that song."

"Oh, I know," informed Sylar smiling smugly. "I've been singing it for days hoping it would wake you up." Matt rolled his eyes and began to try to reach for the nurse call button by his side. Maybe if he was pumped full of drugs Sylar would go away temporarily. All he wanted at that moment was for the psychopath to leave him alone, forever preferably. "I'll tell you what. If you help me get my body back, I not only promise to never sing that song again, but I will never come after you and your family."

"In case you hadn't noticed, I am stuck in a hospital bed because my internal organs have been ripped to shreds."

"Your fault and what if I could heal you," Sylar offered. Matt studied his demeanor to determine he was absolutely serious. "I know a man in northern Oklahoma who has the ability to heal people with a single touch. A quick phone call and you'd be patched up, ready for some body hunting."

"Right," spat Matt sarcastically, finally getting a hold of the button, "why didn't you murder the man with an impressive power?"

"Because it's a power that I couldn't use for myself," he explained with a twisted sense of sincerity. "Even if I didn't already have the ability to heal, it's still not one I wouldn't take. I never could've used it on me."

As the nurse entered the room to check vitals, Matt starred at him for a few moments, contemplating the offer. Turning to the nurse he caught her eye and pushed a thought in. "Go to the phone at the registration desk…"

Sylar's lip quirked up.