When Sylar reached his trailer, Claire was still alone with the door locked. By the sound of things, she was in the bathroom pacing. She froze when he flicked the locks open.

"Claire, it's me," he called softly after shutting the door behind him.

She released a great whoosh of air and cracked the door, peeking through. He waited patiently while she calmed herself down. "Did you see him? Was he hurt?"

"He's tied up, but he looks alright. We're out of here tomorrow morning. Get a bag packed."

She stared, hesitating. "Why do I need a bag? Aren't you taking me home?"

"That's the plan, but we need to be prepared, just in case." He reached under the bed and pulled out two duffel bags, tossing one to Claire. "Leave room for me in there." And he left for the kitchen with the second bag, filling it with the best road food he had.

When he returned, she was carefully stuffing the bag; her stuff was all on one side. He jammed the food bag back under the bed and joined her at the dresser.

"How are we saving my dad?" She sat on the bed, watching him.

"We go in, knock him out, and take him when we leave."

"Knock him out? I didn't agree to that."

"Do you think he'll listen to reason? Will we be able to convince him that what he's doing is wrong? Will he abandon his project and come with us? With me?"

"…No," she whispered. "What about the women? What about Alex?"

"We'll contact Parkman and Petrelli as soon as we can, and we'll leave the boy with Suresh."

"Wait. I thought Mohinder was dead? You know where he is? Is he…whose side is he on?"

"Mine."

"Does he still have an ability?" She didn't want to push him by asking why.

"Yes." He stuffed the last shirt he could fit into the bag, along with a fat roll of money. Cramming in a few more things from the bathroom, he zipped it closed and tucked it beside the one containing food. Sitting, he rubbed the headache forming at his temples.

Claire sat awkwardly, unsure what to do with herself, so she simply watched him and waited. The problem was that there wasn't much to see, he didn't move, didn't talk, didn't so much as look in her direction. "Are you hungry? I'm hungry." She went to the kitchen without waiting for an answer. There wasn't a lot of food left, so she settled for making a couple turkey sandwiches with lettuce instead of bread.

When she returned, he hadn't moved. She balanced the plate on the arm of his chair and began nibbling at hers.

"Thank you, Claire."

They ate in silence; while Sylar solidified their plans in his mind, Claire worried what the next day would bring.

"How will we get him out?"

"Excuse me?"

"Alex; how are we saving him?"

"I have an idea, it might work, but we may have to fight our way out."

Grunting in frustration, she flopped backwards on the bed. "Why not tonight? What are we waiting for?"

"An advantage."

"We have you! What more 'advantage' do we need?"

"That's flattering, Claire. But, we are seriously outnumbered here. If it were just the two of us, no problem. But to get in and out with no injuries…" He shrugged. "Better stick to the cautious side."

"This is going to be a long night."

"Yes, it is." He sent their plates back to the kitchen telepathically and went back to concentrating on plans and back ups and what ifs.

Claire, bored beyond belief after only a few more minutes, fell into a light doze. When she awoke, it was dark outside and Sylar was in the kitchen, cooking something that smelled amazing. Claire's attention, however, was on a different matter all together; her dream had been hyper erotic and starring none other that the man fixing their dinner.

Biting her lip, she forced back the whimper at her lips. Her lower body clinched as she imagined him as he had been in her dream, barefoot, shirtless, and stalking towards her.

She strained her ears, trying to hear how distracted he was. Swallowing hard, she slowly slipped her hand into her pants.

Confused, Sylar left the skillet off the fire to investigate the noises from the main room. He moved slowly, back to the wall, uncertain of what he'd find. The scene that met his eyes, made his heart pound and his body freeze. Claire was reclined back on his bed, eyes closed, mouth parted, hand moving inside of her jeans. He ground his teeth when she moaned, all of his blood rushing south.

She whimpered, biting her lip; it wasn't enough, she needed more. In the back of her mind, she recognized the symptoms of Alice's attack, but couldn't focus passed her desire. When she opened her eyes, she saw him, not entirely how she had fantasized about him, but pretty close. He was barefoot, but unfortunately he wore a shirt. He did, however, stare at her hungrily, eyes dark and heavy.

"Sylar," she whispered. He groaned and closed his eyes, nostrils flaring. "Please, come here?"

"Pheromones," he ground out, through locked jaw, although he knew that that was not the cause of his…problem.

"I know. I'm just not as good at this as you are." She smiled enticingly at him.

Without meaning to, he stepped towards her, eyes following the movements of her hand. "Looks like you're doing fine without me."

"Looks can be deceiving," she growled impatiently, ripping her hand out of her pants in frustration. "I need your help. Please?" she pleaded, "Please?"

"Take 'em off," he ordered, moving to her side in two long strides. Her cheeks turned a delicate shade of pink as she slipped her pants down. "Those too." He gestured to her soft blue cotton panties. She hesitated, but the pure desire urged her on, and she dropped them atop her jeans.

He prowled forward, crawling over her onto the bed, forcing her to lie back. Their breath quickened as he hovered above her, but with great effort, he moved backwards without touching her. He began to kiss his way down her body.

A while later, Claire sank bonelessly into the mattress a moment before Sylar moved away to sit on his chair. Elbows on his knees, face in his hands, he seemed to be struggling. Sated only for a minute, she eyed his jeans, stretching uncomfortably. For a flash, she was able to see passed her own lust, to the man across from her and his denied need.

She slipped from the bed and crawled to him, stopping level with his knees. Sylar blinked, momentarily confused, as he watched her proceed. Biting her lip, she laid her palms on his thighs and ran them slowly up.

"What are you doing?" He sat back, watching her get closer.

"Taking turns." Her hands flipped open the button on his black jeans.

"I…you don't have to…you shouldn't…" His eyes followed her hands as she lowered the zipper, but his voice trailed off.

He was vaguely aware of raising his hips so she could pull his pants off. His breath was rough as she moved in to tug his shirt over his head, her soft tee brushing against him. He knew he should stop her, but couldn't bring himself to say the words. That was, until she turned large innocent eyes on him. "Claire, don't. We can't- Oh shit!" His head dropped back.

Sylar nearly hyperventilated as she experimented on him. He would have liked to last longer, but having his fantasies come true after years of dreaming, meant they would be short lived.

He was still half-delirious when she climbed onto his lap.

"Please, Claire, please," Sylar begged, eyes shut, forehead against her.

She nodded and kissed him. His tongue brushed her again and again as his hands fumbled to get her shirt off, the smoothness of her skin distracting him.

Claire protested when he broke away from her, lifting the tee over her head and tossing it away. She tried to recapture his lips, but he had moved lower, to cup her small breasts and place soft kisses all around them.

As she fought for breath, she noticed a certain lightness to the air; the administered pheromones had finally leaked out of the room. Mind clearing, she looked at Sylar; his eyes were clouded with lust, his own, not manufactured. And despite being unfulfilled, he was concentrating on regaining control. He closed his eyes, leaning back from her and released her chest. His brow furrowed and he took a deep, steadying breath.

Not a thought in her head, Claire leaned in and kissed him. He grunted, hands returning back to her body in a flash, gliding over her skin, one coming up to tangle in her hair. She rolled her hips, breath escaping her as her body once again responded.

But Sylar pulled back, staring into her eyes. "Tell me you still want me."

"…Tell me you love me," she whispered, hands sliding up his chest.

A/N: So…what do you think is going to happen next? Will Sylar laugh at her and her ideas of love? Will he fling her off of his lap in frustration? Maybe he'll announce his undying love for her and present her with a bouquet of flowers? Ok, flowers may a bit overboard, you're right. Will they be interrupted before he can tell her? I know, but I'd still like to hear what you think will happen.

Thanks for reading! Don't forget to review, you know they motivate me to write more.