Claire sat on Sylar's bed and put on her most innocent, heart-broken face. Samuel walked through the door, followed by Sylar. She had to put on a good show.

"Hello Miss Bennett," Samuel greeted, sitting opposite her in the only chair.

She turned her face away and stared at the wall.

"How're things going?" She gave him only silence as answer. "Now, don't be like that. One night in Sylar's tender care and already you're sense of humor is waning."

"Like you care," she spoke through gritted teeth, surprising herself with the depths of true anger.

"Oh, on the contrary, I care a great deal. And it pleases me; I know Sylar's doing a good job."

"You're sick," she snarled.

He shrugged. "Maybe, but I'm also very persistent. I want you broken; so broken, in fact, that your father won't know what to do with you. I want him desperate and bleeding." He was beginning to shake in anger.

"Why? What did he do to you?"

"He's going to ruin us! All of us! Even you."

"How?"

"You really don't know, do you?"

"No."

"Well, as you're the one being sacrificed for the many, perhaps you should." He paused, waiting to see if Sylar would interfere. "Babies."

"I'm sorry?"

"Babies. Noah Bennett is capturing our women and inseminating them. Like cattle. His new company is trying to create the perfect soldier. From my understanding it's somewhere between Sylar and Peter Petrelli."

"Peter's old abilities with a touch of my ruthlessness."

"Your homicidal tendencies? My father wants to give that to someone else?" She didn't believe them; above all else, Noah hated Sylar.

"Someone new. Someone to raise and train. A son that will do what the father wishes," Sylar confirmed.

"He wouldn't do that."

"Wouldn't he?"

She wanted to say no, but deep inside her, she knew he would. If he thought to control the child, he would. She broke eye contact with Sylar and rubbed her temples, old habit.

"So, she believes," Samuel said, sounding satisfied.

"Doesn't matter," Claire blew him off.

"If you would only help us-"

"No."

"You'd never have to spend another night with Sylar. Hilda told me how violent he's become. I don't want to hurt you, Claire. It was never about you."

"I won't help you kill my dad."

"He wouldn't have to die," he pleaded.

"Liar."

"Fine. Let's see how another night with Sylar makes you feel," he growled and stood dramatically. At the door, he stopped, speaking over his shoulder. "It doesn't have to be this way. I would take care of you. Show you the true love of a family."

She glared silently at his back as he shut the door behind him. She opened her mouth but Sylar silenced her with his hand, looking pointedly at the wall. Was Samuel listening? She clenched her fists as she sought to control her anger.

Finally, Sylar lowered his hand and waited for the explosion.

"What do you want me to do?"

Sylar was surprised at her offer, but didn't hesitate to bring her into his plans. He never wanted to involve her, but since she was there, he would use every advantage he could get. Besides, she should help him, it was her father he was trying to keep alive. Not that he expected her to truly trust him.

They didn't do much throughout the day; Sylar plotted different scenarios that were likely to go wrong in his attempt to save and stop Noah. Claire sat and stared blankly at the walls; she may have been making plans, but to Sylar she just looked bored.

"Do you have any paper? And a pencil?" she asked suddenly, disrupting his fifth scenario.

"What for?"

"I have an essay due in a couple of weeks."

"On what?"

"The influence of women in the 1800's."

"How will you research it?"

"...I just want to do the outline."

"Mhmm, what will it consist of?"

"Um...the traditional life of a woman, the...uh...un...traditional life- Dammit! I'm bored alright? Would you just give me some paper?"

"Ask me nicely." He didn't know why it was so much fun to manipulate Claire, but it was.

"Please," she asked through gritted teeth.

Sylar moved so that he was very close to her, making her edgy, he smothered a grin. "Please, what?"

Her hands balled into fists, but she forced a fake smile. "Could I please have a pen and some paper?"

"And if I say yes?" He brushed her hair off of her shoulder.

"I'll say thank you." He really loved her smart mouth.

"What if I want something else? Something more?"

"Like what?" she ground out, narrowing her eyes.

"Those sweet, pouty lips." He traced a finger over them lightly and she shivered, jerking away from him.

"Forget it." She crossed her arms, leaning away from him.

"One kiss is too much? One brief, voluntary touching of the lips isn't worth that paper?"

"You've already kissed me."

"But I want you to kiss me."

"I have."

"Your head was cloudy. It wasn't truly your choice."

"This is stupid." She glared at him, but he just patiently watched her. "Why are you doing this/"

"Because it's fun." He waited for a couple of minutes, but she didn't respond. "Why is it so hard to make a decision? I thought you said that I was attractive, or were you lying to me?" He let his face show the sadness he felt.

Claire stopped glaring and studied him. Slowly, she uncrossed her arms and leaned toward him. Her fingers grazed over his brow, down his cheek. Looking nervous, she moved in so that their mouths were an inch apart. Sylar had closed his eyes in anticipation, his hands coming up to rest on her hips. She slid hers onto his shoulders and closed her eyes. Just as she was about to close the distance between them, Sylar whispered. His words breathed across her parted lips.

"I don't have any paper."

Her eyes popped open and she shoved him hard, moving quickly away. "Are you freaking kidding me? Why would you do that? Why mess with me like that? What the hell is wrong with you?" she shouted.

Sylar wanted to laugh it off; it had been a joke afterall. But the realization that she was going to press their lips together was too much. She would have kissed him and he fucked it up. He groaned and lay back on the bed. What was wrong with him?

Claire stared at him, where he lay on his back on the bed. He covered his face with his hands and sighed loudly. She sat back down across from him.

"What did you expect me to do?"

He groaned again and dropped his hands to his sides. "Nothing, laugh, tell me to go to hell."

"You didn't think I would kiss you?" She felt her anger begin to soften.

"Of course not; you hate me."

"Why ask for it then?"

"It was supposed to be funny."

"So you don't really want that from me?"

He shifted to see her clearly. "I want everything from you." She looked away, uncomfortable with his sincerity. "But I can only blame myself for deserving none."

She forced her eyes back to him; he was so sad. And maybe that's what he deserved, but Claire had done some pretty questionable things herself. Did that mean she wasn't worthy of someone caring? Of a couple moments of happiness?

Sighing softly, she knelt on the bed beside him. He watched her cautiously as she picked up his large hand and held it on her lap. "I don't hate you."

"Why?" His voice sounded choked.

"Because you're not the same man that did those things to me."

"Yes, I am."

"Then why is Hilda alive? Or Eli? Or Peter? Or this whole freak show!"

"It's not-"

"It is the same thing. Couple years ago, you wouldn't have been able to resist the buffet. That makes you different, makes you better."

"But not good enough." He twirled a strand of her hair. "Never good enough."

"Sylar," she sighed. "You wouldn't be you, if you turned into a boyscout."

"Like Peter." He liked when she smiled. "Ironically enough, I was a boyscout once."

Claire snorted, but he continued with complete seriousness.

"It's been years, but I think I could still build a decent campfire."

"Or tie half a dozen different kinds of knots?"

"Hmm...maybe only four."

Claire laughed and shook her head. They were quiet for quite some time after that. "It's getting late. Do you think he'll send Alice over tonight?"

Sylar seemed to deflate. "Almost certainly."

"Then I should do this now." She took a deep, steadying breath and moved in close to a now-frozen Sylar. His eyes were wide, lips still parted in surprise when she kissed him. It wasn't a long kiss, just a soft touching of lips, but her heart still pounded loudly when she pulled away.

His eyes stayed closed while she stroked his rough cheek. "You are good enough," she whispered, giving him another chaste kiss.

A/N: So...what do you think? Hope you liked it. I liked writing this one.

Thanks for reading! Don't forget to review.