Title: Forget Me Not

Author: Bunny

Rating: T

Disclaimer: Nope, not at all mine.

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

A/N: Yes, I know, it has been forever; Claire probably would have given birth by now. On top of the studying for two degrees at two separate universities and working that I had been doing, I've been helping a friend move out the belongings from her dying mother's house and prepping to move myself. So I've pretty much had no free time the past few months. I have not given up on this fic, nor will I give up on this fic. Just please be patient with me, I WILL complete it.

Chapter 11

The moon shines on the autumn sky, growin´ cold the leaves all die
I´m more alone than I´ve ever been, help me out of the shape I´m in
After the fires before the flood
My sweet baby I need fresh blood

~ Fresh Blood; Eels

Nathan's funeral was turning out to be more terrifying and awkward than Claire initially believed. Peter had insisted she stay close to him, for both their sakes. So she sat in the front row between Peter and a brother of hers she had never met, she wasn't even sure of his name. The confused side glances she kept receiving from the two boys and Heidi was nearly enough to make her scream out loud, let alone the gossipy side conversations from everyone else in attendance. The only one who could be equally uncomfortable in that moment had to be Emma, who was currently between Peter and Angela.

The priest spoke hopeful and kind words, but Claire didn't hear a bit of it. Before long he announced that the surviving members of his family were to come up. Planning on staying where she was, she was stunned when Peter pulled her to her feet. Heidi gestured for the boys to walk up, had anyone even told them she existed? Following Angela and Peter's leads, Claire walked to the front and removed a rose from a vase, as did her brothers behind her.

The priest continued to speak and Claire used the opportunity to get a look at other people in attendance. From what she could tell all were politicians, spouses of politicians, or assistants to politicians. Not one of them had an ability. Where were Hiro? Mohinder? Tracy? Had none of them heard the news? Or were they still bitter over last spring?

An elderly man standing at the back of the chairs caught her eye. He had to be in his sixties at the minimum, used a cane, and a suit that he had clearly worn for years. Only as she observed these facts, her stomach lurched. She knew them to be wrong. He was much younger than his sixties, younger than even his forties. The cane he had wasn't actively being used; it was more like a prop. The man who wore a suit with that level of wear and tear should appear absolutely comfortable in it, but he wasn't. Another stomach turn and she was almost certain he was a shape shifter.

A rather specific shape shifter.

Claire focused on maintaining absolute calm, figuring that any anxiousness or fidgeting would be chalked up to restrained grief, as the priest introduced the family members present; a slight murmur throughout the crowd at her introduction. Instructed to place the rose on top of the coffin, each did so before returning to their seats. The not so old man who caught Claire's eye had moved to the other side of the chairs, closer to her.

Thankfully, upon sitting down, the funeral completed when priest read aloud one more scripture and a blessing. Peter squeezed her hand and she nodded to let him know she was alright. Bucking up her courage she turned to address her siblings for the first time, but found Heidi had rushed them to the car already. Watching her usher her children into the back seat, Claire wasn't sure whether to be offended or to laugh.

Peter answered the question with a quiet chuckle. "We told her you were going to be here," he said, as they observed the car driving off as soon as the door closed. "She…wasn't too happy with the news."

Not being able to help it she gave a little laugh of her own. "Guess I'm not missing out on too much, huh?" Her uncle gave a one armed hug before someone from the next row back got a hold of his attention. Peering a few rows back the old man stood waiting and watching. While her eye remained cast in his direction, she pulled Emma near her. Barely using her voice Claire told her, "Do you see that man over there?" Emma looked discretely and nodded. "Do not let Peter be alone with him."

"Why?"

"I'll tell you later, any day but today. But, can you just stay with Peter, no matter what?"

"Of course," she nodded again, walking to where visitors had maneuvered Peter. She came up to his side, wrapping her arm around his. Without breaking his conversation he clasped a hand over Emma's arm, a simple sign that he was endlessly thankful to have her nearby.

Happy at the little progress, Claire had just enough time to heave a sigh of relief when a person from behind tapped her shoulder. Turning she came face to face with an upper middle aged man in a suit with a woman by his side, presumably his wife. "We just wanted to express our condolences," began the man with a quick and firm handshake. "Just a terrible occurrence."

"Um, yeah," she struggled out, not at all prepared for this.

"I was just telling Phillip here that I had no idea Nathan had any daughters," continued the wife with just a hint of nosiness in her voice.

Not looking forward to this all day, Claire gave a very sweet smile. "You say that like it's a problem."

Fear filtered into the woman's eyes and Phillip pursed his lips. "No, no, no! Not at all!"

"Well, then, thank you for your condolences," she replied maintaining her sweet smile. "Now if you don't mind, I have to go talk to someone who will mind their own business." Side stepping their shocked forms, and enjoying every bit of it, she began to head towards the end of the aisle. Unfortunately, she made it only a few chairs down before pausing for yet another well wisher. This one proved more polite, yet still brief.

Another couple of steps and then another attendee approached, followed by another. All of who called her Petrelli, and all of who she corrected. How many people were here?

Finally Claire reached the end of the aisle where she scanned the crowd looking for her shifter. He was nowhere to be seen. While she was distracted looking for the not-so-old man, Noah approached. "How are you doing?"

Gulping down the initial revulsion from the question, Claire forced herself to put up the smallest smile. "I just want this day to be over."

Concern still covering his features, he continued, "You've seemed down the past few days, even before the news of his death. I know I haven't seen you in awhile, but is everything alright?"

The pressure of everything she had to deal with made her heart skip a beat, but she maintained a relatively strong front. "Yeah, I just… I guess you could say I went through a really bad break up the day before you called and I'm still kind of dealing…"

"Do you need any help–?"

"No," Claire replied quickly, putting up the same polite small smile she had been using all day. "It's just me being bluesy, nothing serious."

He gave an anxious smile back, obviously trying very hard to keep his comments to himself. "So, how was it standing with the Petrelli's today?"

"I don't know who's idea that was, but that was really the icing on the cake today," she explained making it absolutely clear that she was not pleased with what had happened. Noah's face relaxed just a touch. "I don't even want to know what's going to happen at the wake."

"Speaking of which, I'm not going to be able to make it tonight," informed Noah, an odd sense of relief flooded through her. One less person she had to pretend to be fine with.

"A 'company related emergency'?" she asked allowing a little bit of sarcasm to filter through.

Her father grinned lightly. "I suppose you could say that, have a lead I need to check on as soon as I can." He comfortingly put both hands on her shoulder. "Are you going to be alright without me?"

"Yeah, go. It's important," she encouraged, not really wanting him to be there anyway. "Give me a call when you get back." Noah gave her a kiss on her forehead then headed to a black car parked nearby. Without even asking Claire knew who his lead related to.

"Excuse me, are you Claire Petrelli then?" inquired a shaky voice from behind her.

"It's Bennet, actually," she answered for the umpteenth time while turning around only to find herself face to face with the figure of the old man she had been searching for. A flicker of worry lit up inside her.

A wrinkled hand reached out to shake hers. "Judge Cavanaugh," he introduced. "And might I just say that it is a surprise to find that Nathan had a daughter."

"Oh, I'm sure you knew," replied the blonde, oozing with fake pleasantness. She released his hand to cross her arms over her stomach, thankful for the large black over coat. Sylar couldn't find out about the baby, let alone at her father's funeral. "How did you know Nathan?"

"Politics caused us to cross paths often, sometimes in an advisory capacity, other times against his decisions," he rattled off in an almost over practiced way. "I met him just after he started in the business –"

"Wow, you're a crappy liar," she snapped, not able to contain herself any longer.

A definite surprised expression flashed across his face, Claire was glad she caught him off guard. "I beg your pardon –"

"Cut the crap, Sylar, I can see right through you." He opened his mouth to protest once more and she raised a hand. "Don't even try to treat me like a child by pretending otherwise. You know I hate that."

His eyes glinted darkly, "You are too clever for your own good."

The voice that belonged to Sylar filtered out through the old man's mouth, a sound that Claire didn't realize just how much she missed. She struggled to maintain a no nonsense face to not to show how it affected her. "You said you would stay away while we mourned."

"No, you said I would stay away. I never promised anything."

"I guess that's my fault for assuming you'd show any piece of human compassion given this is a funeral and all."

"After what your family has done to me, are you surprised?" he rhetorically asked. No one was near enough to hear the venom in their conversation, so to anyone on the outside it looked as though they were holding a cordial talk. Sylar leaned in a little and touched her arm. "Do you see how close we are to where your dear uncle is? Or your grandmother?"

She spared a glance to the side where they stood by the cars, not paying any attention to her. Working to slip her arm out of his grip, she frowned, "It's too public, you wouldn't dare."

Her resistance only made him grip harder. "You're forgetting I don't look like me. Who would I be exposing? A ninety year old politician who everyone thinks should leave office anyway?"

"Let me go," she whispered, discretely twisting some more so people wouldn't notice them.

"I could easily end their lives before they knew it. Remove a limb or two. Force them to expose what they are. I don't know which to do first. All I know is I want there to be blood and humiliation."

This was good, Claire thought. He needed to keep saying terrible things to make it easier to hate him. And judging by the fire rising in her chest, it was getting easier. Despite knowing this she couldn't help her free hand reaching back and slapping him as hard as she could. Sylar released her arm, holding his cheek while laughing.

"What's going on here?" asked Peter behind her. Claire jumped considerably and turned around to face him, Emma at his side looking at her with apologetic eyes.

"It's nothing," she replied quickly. "Why don't we just go. The crowd's clearing out anyways –"

"I didn't catch your name," interrupted Peter, keeping full attention to the man she just struck and ignoring the fact it had just happened. It was obvious he suspected something, but was keeping it to himself.

"This man says he's a Judge Cavanaugh, giving condolences" she replied politely, putting full attention to Peter. "We just had a misunderstanding, but everything should be clear now. Why don't we leave, the crowd's clearing out anyways."

"Yeah," he replied, holding a hand out. Sylar shook it firmly, both men nodding a greeting. Claire could practically feel the giddiness rolling off of her ex, leaving her on edge. Once they released, Peter narrowed his eyes. "So how did you know my brother?"

"Met him a few times through work," he answered with the old man's voice, a small grin forming.

"I'm sure you did."

Emma tugged on Peter's arm. "It's getting late, let's get to a car for the wake." She looked at the old man she had been warned about also oozing politeness. "It was nice to meet you."

She pulled him away, but Peter remained focused on Claire. Sylar's eyes glittered. "The wake?" he inquired once they were out of hearing range.

"You are not invited," she hissed infuriated, swiftly turning her back and following her family to the car.

X~X~X~X~X

Claire arrived at Angela's apartment with Emma and Peter. Since they arrived slightly late, several people were already milling around. She removed her coat, but held it in front of her still flat stomach, subconsciously frightened someone would point and yell, "Pregnant belly!"

Giving plastered on smiles to those who approached, accepting their condolences and ignoring their nosy questions, became a blur after a short time. At some point her companions separated from her by accident, so she searched the relatively small space for them. Instead she stumbled quite literally into the Haitian. "Rene?"

"I am deeply sorry for your loss, Claire," he rumbled out, absolutely meaning every word.

"Thank you," she replied meaning the phrase genuinely. "And thank you for your part in helping Peter. From what I hear we probably still wouldn't know if it wasn't for you."

"Your father had been missing far too long and Mrs. Petrelli's grief was getting in the way of her rational thought," he elaborated. Claire nodded, biting back a comment about Angela's rational thought process in general. "Something had to be done."

She thanked him again, before continuing to circle the room. Meeting phony face followed by yet another one rippled with false concern, she inevitably ran into Angela. Being alone with her was something she had been working to avoid all day. For the sake of what today represented, Claire was determined to be at the very least polite to her. "I'm so glad you came, dear."

"Peter asked that I be here," she explained, making it known right away she wouldn't be here otherwise. "Was that stunt with me being up there with the roses his idea or yours?"

"A combination I suppose," she stated plainly. "Did it bother you to stand up with us?"

"I just hope there isn't any big publicity around this," admitted Claire. "Believe it or not, I feel I'm more than a little camera shy."

"I wouldn't worry. There's more story in the tragic accidental death of a senator than his unknown daughter suddenly appearing at his funeral," she reasoned away with a wave. As Angela took a drink Claire looked around for a polite way out this conversation, but none seemed to appear. Giving a slight lip smack, she went forward, "I see you've told Peter about your little condition."

Claire blanched and felt like the world fell away for a moment. "Peter told you?" she hissed moving closer.

"Don't be ridiculous, of course he didn't," she soothed. "I just know. I similarly know you haven't told him who the father is. I also recall warning you about that little fact."

"You know what," she started, not appreciating the underlying know-it-all tone, "I do not need a moral lecture from you of all people. Especially not today."

"I'm not here to lecture you, Claire," she explained allowing her strong façade to fall away, revealing all the grief and regret that had built up over time. As much as Claire hated to admit it, it affected her. "And I'm not going to tell. Anyone. Consider it an apology for all that I've kept from you over the years."

"It's a start," she accepted with a nod.

"When we have a moment in private there is something I wish to speak with you about, regarding your recent news," requested Angela vaguely.

"Sure," she replied in an equally vague tone. She wasn't exactly certain she wanted anything more to do with this family after this recent transgression. Doing another sweep of the room she asked, "Have you seen Peter lately? Or Emma even?"

"Judge Cavanaugh requested to speak privately with Peter. So they headed up to the roof, I believe Emma followed them – Where are you going?"

Claire's stomach dropped with the word 'judge' and she dashed to the door as fast as she could manage through the crowd. She flipped her coat on as she bolted up the stairs, not exactly sure what she was planning to do once she reached the top. Upon reaching the top floor door she could hear the clear sounds of fighting and arguing voices from the other side. Flinging the door open, she had to duck just as a lightning bolt flew towards her head.

Recovering she looked to see Sylar and Peter posed ready for more fighting standing across from each other; the latter with quite a few cuts and burns all over him, but both huffing and puffing from their efforts. "What is going on here?" she demanded, causing the battle to continue its momentary break.

"Get out of here, Claire!" shouted a winded Peter, barely taking a glance in her direction. "Take Emma and go!"

Looking to her side she found Emma lay in a crumpled heap nearby. Rushing to assist her, the sounds of abilities resumed from behind. Emma was breathing; she had just been knocked unconscious for the time being from what she could tell. Probably from being thrown backwards into the wall. A light groan and shift indicated to Claire that she would be up soon. She considered dragging her, but decided to wait a few seconds to see if she would regain consciousness.

Crouched down beside Emma, Claire watched the fight continue in a big blur. Throughout every telekinetic push, electric bolt thrown, and sonic scream emitted she remained torn. She did not want her uncle to die, but she also did not want anything to happen to the other man despite everything he had done. Deep down and with everything she had, all Claire wanted was for the fighting to stop, for everyone on that roof to be protected.

The next electric bolt that Sylar threw was aimed perfectly at Peter, but it never reached him. Similarly, Peter attempted to push Sylar back with his mind, but he never even flinched. Both men looked at their hands in confusion before trying once more, but with the same result. Sylar turned his hand to a decorative stone pillar near Peter, using a slicing motion to make it collapse. The stone split from his telekinesis. Performing the same motion towards Peter, nothing happened.

"What is going on?" he demanded, trying out a few more powers on inanimate objects with success, but no result when turned towards any person on the rooftop.

She could tell he was reaching a dangerous level of impatience. Acting purely on instinct Claire rushed towards Sylar. Running past him, she grabbed a hold of his jacket collar and pulled him over the edge on the building with her. As they began to fall she vaguely heard Peter's protest at his too late attempt to stop her.

A lot happened in the course of the rather short thirteen story fall. Claire kept a firm grasp on his collar as she fell underneath Sylar. The entire way down no words were spoken, no wild struggles were tried as they came closer to the ground. At some point between floors seven and eight, she suddenly remembered the unborn baby she carried and shut her eyes tightly sincerely hoping her theory about her ability and its safety would be proven.

Then approximately between floors six and seven, she felt her body rotating. Waiting a brief moment until the rotation stopped, at about floor three she peeked an eye open to see that Sylar had switched places with her. He was going to take the brunt of the impact. Claire barely had just enough time to be stunned before they hit pavement.

The impact jolted harshly through her body, but nothing felt broken, sprained, or twisted out of place. Sylar on the other hand had several bones cracked, including his skull. The cranial fracture was enough to temporarily kill him, let alone the other trauma. The shock of the moment didn't last long for Claire, but she remained lying on top of him. As bizarre as it was, she allowed herself to remember their time together and feel at peace while doing so. She propped up her chin to inspect his face up close as she brought a hand up to stroke his cheek. When her thumb came into contact with his skin, a grin flittered to her lips as she realized he needed a shave.

Wanting nothing more than to just remain where she was, once his heart began beating she knew he would be moving in seconds. Pressing a quick kiss to his lips, Claire scooted back to sit on the sidewalk next to him. Shortly after color returned to his cheeks he emitted a sharp gasp and grabbed her arm, causing her to jump lightly. "What did you do that for?" he growled, grimacing as muscle tissues reconnected throughout his form.

"Oh, I don't know," she sighed sarcastically. "Call me crazy for wanting to save my uncle's life."

"I would call you crazy anyway." Claire forced the threatening smirk down, reminding herself this was not mentally the same man who lived with her for weeks. The same man who was the father of her baby. The smirk wiped away immediately. So much for easily hating him. As his strength returned the grip on her arm became tighter. "Don't you understand the point of leaving a message?"

Moving past the blatant threat she gestured with her head. "You need to leave."

"I haven't finished yet."

The tone at which he spoke stirred the same emotions as it had in the graveyard, only now more so intense as his physical appearance matched her memory. "Rene's upstairs and I'd bet anything Peter's going to stop by to get his power before coming down to kick your ass. And this time I'm going to let him."

"What makes you think you can stop me?" he asked, the darkness in his voice showing the control he believed he had. Claire remained frozen as he moved closer to her, his hands sliding up to grasp her neck and the back of her skull. "Besides, I could just make a message out of you instead. Snap your neck, a small sign that I'm not finished with your family yet."

She felt no fear or worry as she looked deftly into Sylar's eyes. "You won't do it."

"What makes you certain?" he asked, gripping tighter as though he had to live up to a dare.

"Because you hit the ground first." The confusion that flittered over his face caused her to grin ever so lightly. "I was supposed to land first. You switched places with me."

In shock of the statement his hands loosened, one falling away and the other to her shoulder. She resisted the urge to lean her head down to nuzzle it. "No, that's not what happened –"

"We both know I pulled you off of that roof," Claire continued to explain, tilting her head so she could keep eye contact with his wandering gaze. "You know I can't die, I can't even feel the pain. So why did you take the fall for me?"

Silence fell between the pair for what felt like a very long time. Finally Sylar began to speak hesitantly, "I see things. Flashes of people I've never met. My mind forms memories that I'm almost certain I've never experienced." The hand on her shoulder trailed up to cup her cheek. Instinct made her want to lean into the touch, but she remained frozen in place. "What am I seeing, Claire?" His unseen hand came up to tuck a bit of hair back. "Why am I seeing you?"

A jolt ran through Claire's body at his last question. Ripping herself away from the warm fuzzy thoughts from earlier she stood up suddenly, rubbing her palms on her legs before crossing her arms over her chest. He remained on the ground for a moment more before standing as well. "There – There's a Carnival," she stuttered out. "The Sullivan Brothers Carnival."

"Are you asking me out on a date?" he poked with a pleased smirk.

Before continuing she was sure to give him a pointed glare. "You spent some time there before I found you. Don't know how much time, I don't even think you really knew. Being a carnival they move around a lot, but they shouldn't be too hard to find. Especially for you."

Sylar nodded slowly, accepting the information as truth. "You do know I am coming back to see you as soon as I am finished there."

"Never doubted it," she admitted. Not wanting to tell too much, she paused momentarily before continuing. "There's man named Samuel there, I think he's the leader. Don't trust him. Even if you feel he isn't lying to you, he probably is anyway."

"And I should trust you?"

Claire was about to snap about past records of more honest, good choices vs. serial killer related ones, but she simply settled for a shrug. "If you want to." Before any more could be said Peter's voice rang from nearby, sending a flare of alarm through her. "You've got to leave." As his gaze reached beyond her it seemed as if for a moment he was going to ignore her. "Sylar!"

His attention returned to her as he hovered, then speeded away into the sky. Relief flooded through Claire just as Peter rounded the corner. "Claire!" he exclaimed running up to her. "Where is he?"

Her head tilted in annoyance. "Hello, Claire. How are you? Thank you for saving my life earlier."

"Quit playing around," he snapped, looking around wildly. "Where'd he go?"

"He left," she explained, gesturing up. "Flew off a little bit ago."

He whirled around to glare at her angrily. "How could you just let him get away?"

"Excuse me, I did not 'just let him' do anything!" she yelled, not appreciating his attitude. "And yeah, let's blame the pregnant woman with no offensive powers for letting the psycho escape."

Her reminder of her condition was enough to diffuse whatever anger was inside Peter. His facial expression turned apologetic as he rubbed his face. "I'm sorry. How's the baby?"

"It's okay. I mean, everything feels alright," she admitted referring to both statements, trying to imagine the level of frustration and sorrow that was going through him at that moment. It was supposed to be Nathan's day. "I miss him, too."

A tired smile that didn't quite reach his eyes came over him as he moved to hug her. "I just feel that I'm betraying Nathan by letting him stay alive. Or at least free."

Guilt stabbed at her gut knocking the air out of her. "I know what you mean."

Pulling out of the hug, Peter led her back to the entrance. "Why don't you go up and find Emma. Then we'll get out of here."

Claire paused at the door when he seemingly refused to head up with her. "Aren't you going to come with me?"

He hesitated, remaining perfectly still just outside the door. "I think you've got a hang of it, don't you?""

"You made a scene when you went back to the apartment, didn't you?"

"Oh yeah."