Didn't we all want Sylar back? I know I did. :)

Chapter 11: Changes

Sylar wasted no time putting Claire at his mercy. He energetically scooped her up into his lap. Claire instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist. His several years of pent up feelings and lust for her were revealed in the rough manner with which he handled her. Claire returned his passionate kisses until they turned slightly painful and he suddenly pushed her hard to the ground, gripping the tops of her arms tightly. Unable to push him back, Claire tightened her legs around his hips and threw all of her weight to the side so that she could climb on top of him. Sylar growled at her feisty attitude and her eagerness to wrestle him. He ground his hips up into hers, eliciting a series of moans and soft keening sounds. Gabriel had never been so urgent with her, but then again he was the domin—oh god he'd never done anything like that before. Claire let out a satisfied shout.

"Don't think about him," Gabriel panted demandingly and rolled her back underneath him to lave his tongue across a spot just below her hip bone.

"Ahh…" Claire breathed nervously. "No wait, wait," she knitted a hand in his hair and meant to stop him but instead she found herself tenderly massaging his scalp with the tips of her fingers in a manner that beckoned him to continue. "This," she panted, "Is very—very wrong," she groaned carelessly, "so, so, wrong."

Claire finally found it in herself to shove him away, even if only slightly. Sylar just found another spot to attend to. "No Sylar, stop," Claire demanded breathily and summoned all of her strength to push him off of her completely.

"Come on Claire. Don't do this to me," he begged and tried to kiss her again. She turned away, denying him access.

"Not here," she articulated very clearly, if not resolutely. Sylar actually growled in frustration as he sat back with his knees folded underneath him. Claire couldn't help but feel bad for him. After all these years he still couldn't have what he wanted the most, more than power, and more than abilities (or so he claimed). Flying under the radar for several years had to make you a pretty good liar; buff up your understanding of the human psyche.

"Yes I understand it perfectly well. It's like my brain is wired for it," Sylar paid her a sly grin. Claire blushed upon remembering that he could hear and even see every thought that passed through her head.

"So you know what I'm going to ask you to do right?" Claire asked him.

He stared at her with a bewildered expression then it changed to something else entirely, he had naught but a sinister glare for her.

"We can save the world Sylar. Together, you and me," she tried in her most convincing tone. She was passionate about it. "We can save them all," Claire pleaded.

"I HATE heroes," he snarled at her.

"And what happens when they're all gone and we're the only two left?" Claire appealed. "What then?"

"Don't you see that's what I want Claire?" he put his hands on her shoulders and gazed into her eyes as if trying to make her see some truth that was hidden from her. It was a dramatic moment, but this was a dramatically changed world they found themselves in. "The hunger… it's consuming. Every second of the day I have to fight it."

"The hunger will still be there, even after they're all gone. Every last person with abilities, and then you'll have to live with it, and you'll feel the hunger every single day for the rest of your eternal life." It was a pretty convincing argument, and she was proud of herself for successfully thinking on her feet around him for once.

"And you would have me what?" he challenged, "Kill them all now?"

"You don't have to kill them… It's better if you don't," she breathed with conviction. "Imagine all that power. You could have anything you wanted… anyone," she added for his benefit. "All you have to do is put a little effort in. Fight back against the people who are hunting us."

"Anything…" his voice was a hoarse whisper. He looked to the side as if to consider her proposition. After a quick moment he snapped his yes back to her. "You know what I want," he leant in to heatedly capture her lips with his own, but once again Claire gave him her cheek.

"I said you had to put in a little effort first," Claire stated the words clearly with careful emphasis on the last. She had successfully managed to build up a wall between them. "Don't think I have forgotten what you did to everybody—what you tried to do to me." She pulled back and revealed the grave expression she wore. "You're a monster Sylar and I can't love you—not yet."

He looked at her half-heartbroken but with a small trace of hope. Claire could easily see then that he cared for her. She spoke nothing but the truth though. Sure she was attracted to him physically, who wouldn't be? However it wasn't like that was the only thing that mattered. She was convinced to hold on to whatever scraps of dignity she still had left, and that did not involve freely giving herself to a man who had tried to kill her.

"But someday you could," he checked.

"I think so."

"Power… immortality, and a beautiful, intelligent, and virtually indestructible doll to play with. Doesn't sound that bad," he gave her a sad smile. She cringed at his use of the word doll. This wasn't the best she could hope for, but at least he wasn't sulking anymore. "One condition though," his voice broke the air again. "Let's get Noah first. I don't think Gabriel would be too happy with us if we fail to do that for him. After all I suppose he did single handedly take down your better half. We've got to give him some credit." Claire raised her eyebrows in surprise but quickly recovered from the whiplash she often received as result of his sudden mood swings.

"Careful," she warned with a glare, "someone might think you actually care."

"Come on Claire, you can't seriously tell me that you want to raise a child. You're just a kid yourself."

"And you planned on what? Putting him in a home?" she said in a tone that implied he was stupid. She started to say something else but thought the better of it and angrily shook her head. "You know what? Forget it. I'd have to be a fool to think you could ever change," she sniffed. A new thought came to her and she was compelled to continue her fevered rant. "You know what? Let's just go. Take me back. We'll part ways when we get there."

"I'm not your dog Claire," he warned darkly.

"Fine," she threw her hands in the air with exasperation. "I'll find my own way back." She stalked off in the opposite direction with no real idea of which way she should be going.

"You're going to get yourself killed,' he muttered and quickly found his way back to her side.

"I don't need your help," Claire snapped self-assuredly.

"Well see you later then. Good luck being hunted," he abruptly turned around and began walking in the opposite direction. Claire squinted against the sun at his retreating figure. She was dumbfounded. The wind had begun to pick up and she had to continuously brush her hair out of her face; this could quickly become a disastrous situation.

"Where are you going?" she yelled after him.

"Oh, and by the way. Town's this way," he yelled back at her, taking off his over shirt to clear the sweat from his brow, and turned back to walk toward the car. Claire made a show of stomping her foot but she was the only one who saw before she ran after him.

"It's hot," Claire complained as she shrugged off her jacket.

"It's Texas."

Sylar cast a sideways glance at her, but both he and Claire knew that he didn't really have to keep his eyes ahead of him. He had a keen sense of direction as had been previously shown to her, and they were out in the middle of the desert for crying out loud. Claire shifted around uncomfortably again. Unfortunately for them both, older cars were much easier to hotwire. Only that pretty much assured that there would be no air conditioning.

"You know?" Another long look. "That leather must be horrible. Not that I'm saying anything in particular, but it's not like there's any need to be modest. It's only us here."

"What are you going on about?" Claire let out an exasperated sigh. She caught the look he gave her. "Ugh," Claire stopped adjusting her top and crossed her arms over her chest self-consciously. "You disgust me."

Sylar's grip on the steering wheel tightened fractionally, but he showed no other signs of being affected.

It didn't take long for them to get to the airport. Thankfully both Sylar and Claire were light travelers; no doubt consequence of their both having lived rocky lives—they'd learned to be low maintenance. It was going to be hard enough to get all of their weapons through security, precautions which Claire thought to be entirely unnecessary. They didn't even need them, not when Sylar was naturally powerful like he was—literally; she imagined the sheer quantity of abilities he had acquired over the years to be daunting enough to scare off anyone who might dare cross their path. It didn't seem likely for any of their kind to place an attack with the other Claire out of the way.

Claire felt kind of bad that they hadn't even thought to bury her in a coffin. She had to wonder how her ability would work in that situation. Would her lungs keep regenerating when she ran out of oxygen or would her body go into remission until it was accessible again? So many questions.

"Are you hungry?" Sylar's voice took Claire away from her brooding with a much easier question to answer.

"That's cute," she sneered. "Are you trying to play the doting boyfriend?"

"Nope," he spoke without pause and dropped her bag in front of her chair before taking a seat beside it in the waiting area for their gate. He looked at her emptily. "So what you don't get hungry?" It was an obvious attempt to avoid answering her question in any more depth. Claire also chose not to answer his question. She twisted her hands thoughtfully and averted her eyes.

"Interesting," his low and thoughtful tone sounded little more than a whisper in the crowded airport. He took a deep breath to recover from whatever realization had just hit him. "What do you eat?" he pressed. Claire still wasn't talking to him. The whole thing was too familiar, like when he made her breakfast. "Right then," he brushed his hands together and abruptly stood. "I'll be right back. Don't you go anywhere," he commanded.

Claire was thankful to be left to herself for however a brief stint of time this would be. It was refreshing to have her thoughts belong only to herself. It was almost cute how much Sylar seemed to care about her—almost. She had a nagging suspicion that he was only trying to make her forgive him for trying to kill her and actually succeeding with her best friend. What if he really didn't want to be a monster anymore though? Could he do it? Claire thought she saw small glimpses of goodness in him. Sylar wasn't a sociopath after all. No, he was just a regular man with a sort of disease—or a sickness. She hoped there was a way for him to overcome it. Not for herself of course, but for the world… yeah society.

"Your meal my lady," Sylar mocked as he handed her a Styrofoam box complete with plastic wrapped cutlery.

"Mmm… airport food," she returned the barb and pushed the food back at him.

"Don't knock it until you try it," he crossed his arms in way of making her keep it.

"I'm not hungry," she protested further.

"You need to eat, and don't think I won't force you." Claire huffed and reluctantly opened the box.

"Oooh waffles," she grinned appreciatively. "I haven't had waffles since—" since she woke up in his apartment after a long night of amazing—she shoveled a bite into her mouth.

"That was fast," she remarked nonchalantly between bites.

"Being charming has its advantages," he gave her a dazzling smile that she didn't see.

"Yeah charming," she laughed and looked up only to see a couple of girls inconspicuously pointing at him and giggling conspiratorially. A wave of jealousy began to rise up inside of her but she quickly crushed it and gave him her best "nothing's wrong" smile. It undoubtedly showed up forced.

"Ohhh god," Claire panted. "I can't do this."

Her heart began to pace as the gravity of the situation set in. Every single nerve in her system was on fire, every hair on end. There was a pressure deep in her gut that threatened to rise up and spill over. Claire grasped tightly onto Sylar and inhaled deeply.

"What are you talking about?" Sylar looked at her, his eyebrows raised in disbelief. "It's too late now. You were on board a minute ago."

"I know," she breathed and whimpered, "but that was before."

"Claire you're indestructible and you can't feel pain," he reminded her with a wince. "I however still can."

"Oh!" she exclaimed and loosened her vice-like grip on his arm. "Sorry," she muttered her apology.

"You're forgiven," he replied gratuitously. Sylar looked happy as pie with her all snuggled up so close to him, the reason be damned. "Besides… It's hopelessly endearing that you of all people would be scared of flying."

"You're making fun of me," Claire pouted.

"And?" he relaxed in his seat; just barely shifting closer to her side. Fortunately for him, airplanes left little elbow room for their passengers.

"Don't get used to it," Claire frowned at him. Not that it really bothered her all that much. She could get used to this; he felt fantastic. At that moment a very pretty flight attendant came by and placed a hand on Sylar's shoulder.

"Can I get you anything?" she hinted slyly, all the while leering at him.

"No," he started to shut her down, obviously wanting her to leave, but then seemed to change his mind. "Actually could you point me in the direction of the bathrooms? You know… just in case I need to know," he grinned at her. The girl wrote down something on a piece of paper and slipped it into his pocket. "And perhaps some water for my sister here. It's her first time flying," he said as if to explain why Claire was holding on to him so tightly.

"Your sister?" the woman checked.

"His sister," Claire seconded and closed her hand in a punishing tight grip around his bicep. The woman poured her water in a small plastic cup and handed it to her, mouthing "see you," to Sylar upon her leave. Claire immediately turned her eyes on Sylar. "So thoughtful of you to get me some water," Claire scoffed. "You really shouldn't have." Without giving it any more than a second of premeditation, Claire threw the contents on the cup down his front. She'd have preferred a pitcher, but it had basically the same effect. Sylar leapt up from his seat in surprise and in the process hit his shin on the chair in front of him.

"Gah!" he exclaimed. "Damn it Claire." She just watched the scene unfold in front of her with amusement.

"Was that an attempt to make me jealous?" she sneered.

"Did it work?" he answered her question with another question.

"You're unbelievable," Claire muttered.

"And you forgot that we're thousands of feet up in the air."

Claire looked up at him with wide and curious eyes. "Forget?" she breathed. That was all for her benefit; a show of a different sort than she had initially thought, but just a show nonetheless. In another life he could have easily been an actor.

"Good afternoon passengers, this is your pilot speaking. We will be experiencing some brief turbulence in the next few minutes, so if you could please return to your seats and keep your seatbelts fastened. Thank you for choosing Southwest Airlines and have a good flight."

"Oh god," Claire blanched and nearly crawled into Sylar.

"Claire… come on Claire wake up, we're here." She found herself gently roused with a soft squeeze to her shoulder.

"No," she murmured sleepily and curled into the warmth next to her.

"Claire," his breathe tickled her ear. Her eyes snapped open and she found her face buried in the fabric of his shirt. Claire would have immediately removed herself form him if she wasn't so groggy from sleep. "Claire! Get up! The plane is crashing!" he exclaimed.

"What?" She yelped and leapt up only to sub her toe on the base of the seat in front of her. "Ow," she whimpered and fell back into her seat. "That was mean," she complained after she realized that they were already on the ground.

"Well considering I've spent the last several hours serving as your personal pillow, I think I'm entitled to a little rudeness. He teased her playfully. Claire was not amused.

"Clearly you're not a morning person," he observed aloud. "Come on, up we go," he lifted her up by the arm and led her down the aisle.

"How are we going to get there?" Claire asked when they stood in front of the airport. "Steal another car?"

"No…" he answered distractedly, his eyes focused somewhere else as he stepped closer to the side of the curb and waved down a cab. "New Yorkers are fortunate to have these fantastic yellow cars that will pick you up and drop you off anywhere you want to go," he told her sarcastically.

"Yeah, yeah, let's go," she pushed him into the back seat and climbed in after him.

"So this is it then?" Sylar stood back and checked the address of the building they stood before, and sure enough they were in the right place; The Upper West Side. "I guess I don't know why I'm surprised. It figures that he would be so well provided for. I guess I was just expecting something a little less conspicuous."

"Yeah," Claire seconded and looked up at the Manhattan style apartment building that towered above them. "Do I look ok?" she asked him anxiously. Sylar gave her a look. "Right… he's five," she recalled aloud. They started toward the entrance but Claire found her feet rooted firmly in place once again. "But what if he doesn't like me?" she asked. "What if he doesn't want to come with me?"

"Claire," Sylar warned, "You need to shape up or I'll take you straight home." She'd never get used to him treating her like a child, and she had yet to decide whether it was cute or not. No! Not cute. Nothing about Sylar was cute. No good could ever come of her having thoughts like that.

Inside it was just like any other apartment building, only hundred times nicer and with elevators. Claire had to ask the receptionist at the front desk for directions. She thought Sylar was going to dismember him upon seeing how he was looking at her. Nevertheless they finally made it and here she stood. Her heart was racing; she was only seconds away from meeting her flesh and blood son. She raised her fist to knock on the door but stopped short.

"I can't do it," she looked to Sylar for help. He just rolled his eyes and swiftly rapped on the wooden surface.

"Hold on a second," a younger man's voice called from inside.

Claire found herself looking at a man who resembled the man next to her far too much for comfort.

"Hello," he greeted them both shyly, his eyes shifting between his two visitors. "May I help you?" He wore a dark gray cashmere sweater and a pair of freshly pressed black trousers. He dressed like a much wealthier version of Gabriel Gray, but his hair cut was a thousand times more modern—more youthful. He was the wrong age obviously, but Claire could have easily believed him to be their son in a different time; as bold as that statement was.

"I'm looking for my son… I was told he lived here," she explained awkwardly.

"Your son?" he repeated suspiciously. It occurred to Claire that she obviously didn't look old enough to have bore a child. After a second of though he continued, "well why don't you come inside—" he prompted her for a name.

"Claire," she offered.

"Claire," she finished his sentence. "I'll see if I can help you."

"Well what's your name?" she asked suspiciously although not wanting to put this seemingly helpful stranger on alarm.

"Oh I'm sorry," he exclaimed as he led her and Sylar into his living room. "My name is Noah, Noah Gray."

Tbc.