Title: Forget Me Not

Author: Bunny

Rating: T

Disclaimer: I wish, but not mine.

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

Watching you dress as you turn down the lights
I forget all about the storm outside
Dark clouds roll their way over town
Heartache and pain came pouring down
Like hail, sleet and rain yeah they're handing it out

~ Crossfire, Brandon Flowers

Standing on the top of a neighboring building Sylar waited for Claire to exit the apartment complex. Time moved slowly as he watched. Though he remained on the side of Claire's apartment, he could see nothing that was happening inside. Finally, Claire walked out the front door to the street. She looked around for a moment before turning left, walking in the opposite direction he was. He didn't go after her until she turned the corner.

Flying down, Sylar picked her up and landed on another nearby rooftop. As soon as feet touched the concrete, Claire stepped away not looking at him. He wanted to give her time to collect her thoughts, but a sense of urgency in the air made him ask. "He was looking for me, wasn't he?"

"Yeah," she breathed out, still not looking at him. "He has your memories. And he knows how to give them back to you."

Her response was barely a whisper, but what was said screamed in his head. A flare of elation sparked within him and the urge to speed back to the apartment was almost overwhelming. "Is he still there?"

"For now," she admitted, finally turning around, face reflecting controlled calm. "You could go back to the apartment now; or we could go off to do that fantasy. The one you were talking about before Sweetie came in." Sylar remained still as she continued with a shaky voice. "Matt's not going to be hard to find. We could leave for awhile and he would be here whenever we came back."

The plea she gave made a certain amount of sense to Sylar. Both had a strong appeal, but he didn't know how to begin to choose. "What do you think I should do?"

Claire vigorously shook her head, "No, I'm not going to push you one way or the other."

"I'm asking for your opinion, that's all."

"It's not just my opinion, I tell you what I want and you'll do it," she explained sounding exhausted. Her reasoning briefly angered him, only because he knew she was right. "If there's one thing you hate, it's being manipulated. I hate it, too. That's why this choice has to be all up to you."

Sylar heaved a heavy sigh. He didn't really need to ask which one she wanted, the hopeful expression her face held gave the obvious answer. Despite this knowledge, it was one he knew nearly instantly he couldn't give her. Even after everything she had done to help, all she had gone through because of him; he knew he was going to make her suffer more. The thought tore him up inside, but it had to be done.

"You know I'm lost, Claire," he stated evenly, struggling to keep facing her. "I have to go back now."

The strong resolve she painstakingly put up broke as she dissolved into tears. "I knew you'd say that," she hitched a sobbed. She half walked away before changing her mind and spinning around. "You know what, when I asked your other half why he needed to be complete, he gave the exact same reasoning you did. I knew what you'd choose, but I didn't think it'd hurt…"

Instantly he moved to her side, holding her endlessly shaking form tightly. "I don't want to do this to you –"

"Just stop," she requested, trying to pull away.

"No, listen to me," he insisted, using a hand to force her to look at him. "I don't want to do this to you. You have helped me more than I believed any other person could, even though you had the most reason not to. You're strong, you're compassionate, you're a fighter. Who says we can't still be together after my memories come back."

"I don't think we can," she croaked, leaning back into him shaking her head into his chest.

Allowing a few more moments of holding her, the crushing disappointment coursed through him. Just like in her position, Sylar knew what she was going to say, but it still hurt considerably. He pulled away just enough to tuck her hair back into place. Knowing this may be the last time he was to be alone with her, he couldn't stop himself. "I love you, Claire."

Watery eyes looked back at him as she began to reply, "I –"

Not allowing her to finish, he put a finger over her mouth, "No."

"Why not?" she demanded, stricken with confusion and more pain.

"Because if you're just saying it to say it, I couldn't bear the lie; and if you really mean it, I can't bear knowing you really do if I can't have you," Sylar explained cradling her cheek, his own chest compressing as he spoke.

She shook her head, crying starting up again. "That's not fair."

"I know," he whispered, holding her tightly one last time. "I know."

X~X~X~X~X

"How can you just sit there and do nothing?" demanded Matt pacing back and forth.

"She said to give her an hour, so I'm giving her an hour," Sylar answered patiently, sitting on the couch with one leg crossed over the other.

"You're awfully patient for a man who has been relentless with what he wants."

"Relax, Parkman, the end of this nightmare is in sight." He patted the cushion near him. "Take a load off. Not like in that form any of that moving around will actually help you lose weight."

"You are such an ass."

At the click of the door Sylar stood and clapped his hands. "Well, look at that," he marveled as he saw himself walk through the doorway with Claire following close behind. "It is about time I got here." He turned to address the ghost in the room. "Now, time for you to do your thing."

"Who is he talking to?" inquired his body to Claire.

"Matt's still in there and they can talk to each other, or yell at each other I guess." She didn't have to reach far to place a hand on his arm, a simple motion that didn't go unnoticed by him. "I did say you're normally insane, but not that type of insane."

"Hey!"

She glared across the room, "Even you admit it."

Sylar tilted his head in acknowledgement as the spirit to his side sighed. "I need to be in control to do this," Matt informed. "I have to be able to use my ability."

He groaned out in frustration, "Constant give and take with you."

"What are you talking about, you're the one who does most of the taking," he pointed out, suddenly next to Sylar.

"Yeah, and I'd like it to stay that way for now," he threatened. He closed his eyes, forcing the body he was in to relax. Just prior to Matt switched places, Sylar opened one eye to the couple before him. "See you on the other side," he indicated to himself. To Claire he smirked, "And I can't wait to remember more of you at the same time."

Sylar blew a kiss in her direction and his other self made a move to physically attack him. Claire grabbed his arm and shoulder, pulling him back towards her, "Stop, it's not worth it."

Matt anxiously observed the situation from the side, hoping deep down he had the guts to go through with his plan. Before Sylar could say anything else, he took advantage of the distraction by slipping back into his own body. Taking a moment Matt focused down at his fingers, wriggling them just to be certain he could feel everything. Satisfied he looked up seeing Claire and two Sylar's in the room. "That is weird."

"You alright, Matt?" asked Claire with concern, but remaining at a distance from him.

"Yeah," he exhaled, wishing the moment would be over with.

"Come on," goaded mental Sylar, who was sitting on the couch in front of everyone. "We're all waiting on you."

"I'm getting there," he murmured. Gesturing to the side, he instructed, "Claire, could you go over there for right now. I don't want any other minds accidentally getting in the way."

"But you said your power wasn't working on me –"

"Just go over there! Please," he yelled, composing himself by the end. She glared at him with evidence of unshed tears in her eyes, but moved as he requested. He noted the hand squeeze the other Sylar gave her before they separated. As the man in front of Matt put his full attention to him, for a moment he could see why Claire helped him. He appeared just as an ordinary man, apparently without knowledge of all the terrors his complete self had performed. He was a man who was happy where he was, happy with the person he was with.

Matt desperately hoped that he would not only be able to forgive himself, but that one day Claire might be able to as well.

"Get on with it!" groaned the other one. "I thought you couldn't wait to get me out of your mind."

He focused on his target before him, "I am sorry."

In a quick motion, Matt pulled his hand out from behind his back. Gun in hand, he took aim and fire a few shots Sylar in the head. He watched as his head snapped back, eyes turned instantly blank, and the body collapsed to the floor, blood pooling on the carpet. Claire had screamed as soon as the first shot fired, rushing to inspect the back of his head.

"There!" he shouted at his specter. "There! Now, you really are trapped in here forever! You have no body to go back to, so you're stuck and you will die when I do – Why are you laughing!"

Still on the couch, Sylar threw back his head in hysterical laughter the instant he had yelled at him. "Parkman, I did not believe you had the manhood to try something like that. I am impressed!"

"Are you crazy?" Claire yelled, tears streaming her face as she placed the head of the bloody, lifeless body before her in her lap. "Why did you do that?"

"Quit laughing! I hit the kill spot –"

"I know you did!" she snapped back, not realizing the sentence wasn't towards her. She brushed the hair out of his mutilated face. "Why?"

"That doesn't work on me anymore," shared Sylar, his tone far less cocky than before. His gaze was distracted by the actions of the two people near the wall.

"Doesn't work, that's ridiculous –" Matt's claim was interrupted by a gasp from the girl in the room. Sure enough, Sylar's face was slowly reconstructing.

"Unless I moved where the kill spot was," he smugly replied.

As the reconstruction continued, Claire gently laid his head on the floor before standing. Clearing her throat she walked over to Matt, who was still shocked by the most recent development. What he certainly didn't expect was for Claire to snatch his gun away and point it at him. "Do what you did to come here to do, then stay out of my life for good," she ordered darkly. "Do you understand me?"

"Sexy."

Matt almost glared, but kept his gaze on the unstable blonde. "I'll need my gun back –"

"No," she interrupted firmly, cocking the firearm. "You leave with what you have on you. I've had a very stressful few weeks and I have had enough. Now finish your job and get out. Go back to your family and I never want to hear from you again."

"You want me to just leave you here with Sylar alone?"

"Yeah, I do," Claire insisted. "And do not even think about calling anyone about this. I will deal with it myself."

Matt considered fighting her demands, but one look told him there was no way he would win. Letting out a resigned sigh he kneeled next to the unconscious man, placing a hand over his forehead.

X~X~X~X~X

As soon as a conscious mind returned to Sylar, he snapped his eyes open to observe his surroundings. To put lightly, what he saw confused him. The room he was in was too nice to be any prison cell, the comfortable furniture and television were giveaways there. But at the same time this place wasn't swanky enough to be a part of the Stanton.

Eyes trailing down he noted a relatively fresh blood stain on the carpet, not much more than a few hours old. With the level of revenge that was mounting inside him, a blood stain that small wouldn't be his work. Sitting up suddenly, his head felt like it was full of cotton. Sylar groaned as he rubbed his head trying to remember how he got here.

But the last thing he could remember was Petrelli shoving a needle under his chin.

The sound of a door closing caused Sylar to stand so he could see who he was about to attack.

It was Claire Bennett.

Carrying a basket of laundry.

The sight was enough to make him pause.

At his abrupt movement Claire looked up and smiled faintly. "You're finally awake," she spoke kindly. Placing the basket on the table, she continued, "How are you feeling?" Sylar looked at his hands and touched his face just to double check he hadn't shifted to another form. "Sylar, is everything alright?"

Well that answered that question. Narrowing his brow he went on the defensive. "What's going on? Where am I? Why do you have me here?"

"My apartment," she replied very quietly. "Don't you know?"

"If I knew I wouldn't be asking," he hissed, stepping around the couch towards her. "Now, where is that uncle of yours?"

"Uncle? You mean Peter?" she breathed out, appearing more and more perplexed.

"Can you think of another uncle I would want to thank for injecting me full of drugs a few hours ago," he stated, coming closer. Her paralyzed shock was an uncommon trait for her, but he didn't care to take the time to analyze her behavior. Electricity crackled from his fingertips as he raised them in front of her face. "Don't make me ask again."

Claire snapped and began to laugh in his face. The drastic change in attitude surprised him enough to shut off his power. Sylar stepped back from the girl as her laughter became louder. "You've got to be kidding me!" she cried out, wiping tears from her eyes. "None of it. You remember none of it!" She pushed him as she walked past attempting to get control of her crazy laughing.

"What are you talking about?"

"You know out of every scenario I imagined, never once did I think this would happen. I thought conflict of memories, one would be dominate over the other, maybe it wouldn't work at all; but never this!" She turned away to presumably gain control of herself and Sylar allowed her the time, only to try and piece together clues for himself. Glancing at the laundry basket he noted it was full of both women and men's clothing. Before he could process this, she continued, "It's November now."

He tilted his head sharply, stunned by the news. "You're lying."

"You know I'm not," she spat out, brushing her hair back to become calm once more.

"How could I have lost five months?" he demanded, stepping up to her as anger swelled inside him. "For that matter, why am I in your apartment? When did you even get one?"

"College," she cooperated somewhat muted in energy. "We're in Arlington, Virginia right now. I have no idea why or how you stumbled here, but I found you one day a couple of weeks ago. Some people were looking for you, so against my better judgment I let you stay for a little bit."

A cocky eyebrow raised as Sylar grinned broadly, "Where exactly have I been staying while at your place?"

"Don't," she ordered firmly, crossing arms over her front. "You do not get to say that to me."

In the interest of wanting more information, he let that one slide. "And the five months before that?"

"I don't know everything," answered Claire vaguely. An angry sour expression shadowed her face, "Though I know that you were brainwashed to take Nathan's place after you murdered him."

A beat passed to allow the true point of her words settle in.

"Oops," he drolled out, with no remorse.

The speed at which Claire moved impressed him as she grabbed the crystal bowl which sat on the table and slammed it against his face. Sylar's head snapped back as shattered crystal shards embedded into his skin. "What are you going to do about it! Go ahead! Try something, I want you too!"

The initial blow hurt more than the tiny little fragments slowly dropping out. A flash of rage ran through him and he flared his fingers, flinging her up into a wall. The desire to physically mutilate and destroy was overwhelming.

But the blonde up against the wall wasn't scared, wasn't in pain, wasn't even angry. She was just sad. She wanted him to try and hurt her. With no prospect of a challenge or resistance Sylar let her down. Her goading ceased as her feet gently touched the ground. Taking the quiet as an opportunity to gather his thoughts, he asked, "Is that bloodstain mine?"

She nodded without a word.

"What made you do it?"

"I didn't do that to you," she sighed out, exasperated. "And once you leave I will have to clean up after you. Again."

"Again? What does that even mean?"

"Sylar," she began, cutting his name off a bit. "After everything I've done for you, quite frankly you owe me –"

"Oh, so that's why you took me in," he yelled, becoming angry at the notion of being used. "So that I would owe you a giant favor in the future."

"Of course not," muttered Claire, as though the thought had never occurred to her.

He gave her a warning glare, "Nobody ever means that. You were looking for some sort of payoff, what is it?"

"I wasn't," she insisted with complete calm. "You know that I'm telling the truth too, so why are we arguing about this?" The realization that she hadn't once lied to him since he woke up suddenly struck him silent. "You've hurt my family a lot…"

"That blame flows both ways," he started, but Claire cut him off.

"Not the point right now," she interrupted. "What I want from you is that you leave this apartment right now and don't come back. Then just leave my family and me alone while we grieve. That's not too much to ask for."

Sylar stepped slowly towards her and the control she had exhibited since she had touched to the floor flinched a bit. He leaned in just slightly, "I still don't have the full story."

"And I'm not in a sharing mood right now." She pointed to the door, steely faced. "Get out."

He could've made her share. Perhaps not do any lasting physical harm to her, but friends and other family he could torture. Make her watch or participate as he rolled out the punishment. But something in her tone indicated she wanted to share everything, and that she would. Just not right at that moment. He could get what he wanted from her later. After all, they both had forever.

Trusting that another crystal bowl wasn't going to come crashing in on his head, Sylar turned his back to Claire and exited the apartment. As soon as the door clicked closed, he heard the muffled sounds of her sobbing before he walked down the hall contemplating his next move.