Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes or any of the characters.

They had a light lunch, Claire found that her appetite wasn't nearly as big as the anticipation she had was. Angela didn't take offense, she seemed to be picking through her food. Something was obviously on her mind. Not wanting to pry, Claire tried to lure her into a small chat. Maybe Angela would open up later on, maybe now wasn't the time. They had just declared to be more open a half hour ago after all.

"I've decided to cut my classes back to Tuesdays and Thursdays. My professors seem to be understanding, even though they don't really know the whole truth. They've all known about Lyle's cancer for a while, so maybe that's why they're being so lenient," she said softly, fearful that her grandmother's newfound fondness would vanish, and in it's place disappointment would overcome.

"There's something you've got to know, Claire," Angela said, placing her fork beside her plate neatly. "I'm not certain how to come out and say this, so I suppose I should put it bluntly." Stalling, she grabbed her napkin, placing it carefully on her lap. She tugged at the corners until she was positive it was as precise as possible.

"I've done a lot of things wrong, I've kept a lot of secrets. I'm…" she paused, then cleared her throat. "I'm trying to clear my slate, trying to start things over. Or at least give you guys the chance to live knowing the truth." Angela's steely gaze found Claire's uncertain look. Tilting her head to the side, she laid her fork on her plate. "Yeah?" She asked, already feeling the barriers draw around her. How would she change her world now?

"Claude Rains came to us when Nathan was still young. Claude was like me and you, he had an ability. He could become invisible. His ability was useful to him, he wasn't much of a people person. He avoided crowds, and people at all costs. He was a man however, and men will be men. He had an affair with a woman, she died during child birth."

Angela hesitated, looking down in her lap to fix an invisible crease in her napkin on her lap. Her granddaughter lifted a slender, light brow. Where was this story going? She held her breath, waiting for her grandmother to continue. After a minute or so in silence, Claire edged her on. "And?"

"He tried to raise his child for a few months, but he couldn't. He wouldn't change his lifestyle. He came to Arthur, pronouncing his problem. I had decided long ago that one child was enough for me. I didn't want to go through that again. Adopting wasn't out of the question though."

Now Claire could see where this was going. No. She thought.

"Arthur decided we would take the child, raise him as our own."

"No," she whispered softly, almost inaudibly.

"He only had one request. The baby's mother name was Petra."

"No."

"He wanted the baby's name to be Peter."

"No!"

"So we took baby Peter under our care and raised him as our own."

"You can't be serious! How?" Claire asked, gripping the edge of their table tightly. "How could you lie to him about his birth right?" Tears threatened to escape from her eyes. Hot, angry tears. She remembered the feeling that haunted her a few years ago when she found out she was adopted. Betrayal. Angst. Uncertain. How could she ever figure out who she was now? Why did her birth parents give her up? Did she make them sick?

Now Peter would have to go through those same feelings? And finding out so late in his life?

"He was always mine, Claire," she said tersely, her gaze hardening. "The moment I seen him, the second I held him, I knew. I knew it was meant to be." Angela lifted her glass, a soft red wine. "Arthur took a bit longer adjusting, and he never grew as fond of Peter as I did. And then when Peter started coming into his ability, I understood that he was where he belonged."

Claire swallowed hard, her appetite fled completely. Her throat was dry, she didn't seek the water from her glass though. First, she found her father was dead. Then, the serial killer who haunted her dreams was imposing as her father. Unknowingly. He'd also be guarding her, while tormenting her silently. And now, she didn't even have an Uncle. Peter wasn't her blood, Peter wasn't her family. Would he even be her friend after finding out the truth? He wouldn't be tied to her in any way. There was only one thing she knew for certain he'd always be to her. He'd always be her hero.

"Are you going to tell him? Or am I that has to be burdened with that?" Claire asked lowly, her throat a bit scratchy.

"I'll tell my son… But I would appreciate it if you were there with him when I did it. He could use the support." Claire nodded in response, pushing away from the table. "I think I'll go now. You've surprised me enough for one day."

---

"Claude Rains?" Peter asked incredulously, forgetting Claire's presence for a moment. His stare on his mother froze into an icy glare. Angela didn't falter, she pulled her shoulders back and met her son with a steady gaze. "Yes, he is your birth father."

She had already explained to him what happened to his birth mother, he met Claude and knew he was social inept. Angela told him how Claude came to her and Arthur, and that he moment she held him, she knew he was meant to be with them.

This explained a few things to Peter, like why Arthur never seemed too fond of him. It explained the way Claude acted around him sometimes. It was no wonder Arthur didn't accept him. "Did Nathan know?" He asked, his grip was tight on the arm of the chair he was sitting in. Claire reached over to touch him, to comfort him. He pulled away from her, his glower intent on his mother.

"Nathan wasn't aware at all," she said, removing her eyes from Claire to see the hurt look on her face. Peter glanced over at Claire, but before he looked over at her, the hurt expression was gone. Peter looked puzzled for a moment, but turned his gaze back on his mother. Or Angela. How could he consider her his mother?

There wasn't anything else she could say to him, she could see by the look in his dark eyes that she wasn't wanted here. Angela stood up, brushing her slacks off. "I'll let myself out…" she spoke softly, her voice hardly audible. With a glance between Angela and Peter, Claire stood up and walked her grandmother to the door. They were in Peter's apartment.

It was dimly lit, and the kind of apartment that Claire imagined she would have gotten if not for Angela and Nathan. It was all mostly one room, the bathroom had it's own room, and that was it. His bedroom was on the other side of the room, a shoji screen acting as a wall and dividing the small area. She'd seen one of them in those Chinese films that came on in black and white when she was younger. . A tiny kitchen and a couch made up the rest of the apartment.

"Peter…"

"I don't want to talk about it." His voice was firm, the edge in it made her cringe back. He hadn't moved from his spot on the couch. His hands had suddenly become remarkable to him, because Claire noticed he was gawking at them. What was he looking at?

Moving closer, she slid onto the couch next to him. The furniture wasn't very comfortable, but it accommodate the both of them. It even had enough space for Peter to move over, putting a bit of distance between the two of them.

She tried not to feel rejected. Or betrayed. This couldn't be about her right now, she had to focus on what he was feeling. She only wanted to be there for him, like Zack was there for her when she found out. "We've got to talk about it, you can't just pack this away somewhere and let it collect dust. When you open it later, it'll hurt so much more."

"Don't act like you know---" He snapped, but he was cut short by the outrageous look on her face when she whirled her head to look at him.

"It happened to me. Flipped my world upside down, and when gravity let it go, I had to put everything back. Alone. I had to fix it, by myself. I was left to discover who I am all over again."

"Claire," He started, immediately regretting what he had said. If anybody knew, she did.

"You know what I realized though? By the end of the day, I'm still Claire Bennett. Nathan and Meredith created me, but my experiences with my family, being a Bennett, that is what made me." Sighing softly, she closed her eyes for a moment, opening them to gaze at him. "That probably made no sense… I just contradicted myself."

Reaching over, he placed his hand over hers gently. That same feeling was there, the same ones she always got when she was close to him. Reassurance, comfort, and a place she felt safe. His dark eyes gazed down at her, but then he seemed to have slipped away. "I understand. But… I just can't right now. I need to sort it out myself. When I need to talk, I know where to go."

Claire pulled her hand out from under his, nodding and smiling in his direction sadly. "Okay… Alright, I can accept that. Please, don't forget that I'm here for you. You're still my hero, and you'll always be a part of my family." Touching the place over her heart to express just how much he meant to her. "You'll always be Peter Petrelli to me. Where you come from doesn't change that."

Standing up, she walked to the door. Her hand lingered on the cool, brass knob for a moment before she swung it open. She stepped out and closed it behind her. Waiting a moment by the door, facing it and staring at it expectantly, Claire wondered if he had changed his mind in those few seconds.

Finally, she turned away. Greeting her across the other side of the hall, with a sly smirk on his long lips, Sylar pushed himself off the wall and stood next to her, invading what she called her 'personal space'.

"Have you been avoiding me?" Cocking his head to the side, his grin grew as her face dropped.

"Claire, you can't hide forever. We're going to be living together now. We'll be roommates." He exaggerated his last word, and Claire started walking away. She figured the best way to make it through this was to ignore him. Try to act like he was that annoying roommate you had to deal with, and avoid at all costs.

Taking long strides, he caught up with her easily. They were like yin and yang walking next to each other. She was the light, with her long waves of blonde hair cascading down her back. She had on a pair of white denim jeans and a soft yellow camisole. She was short and petite, her eyes were gentle and bright.

In contrast to her, his hair was dark. His legs were lengthy, and his shoulders were wide. He was in dark jeans and a black t shirt. He seemed to loom over people, and his eyes were dark and compelling. They appeared to be exact opposites.

"Hmm… I wonder what your friends will think." A soft chuckle followed it, and it loitered her mind the entire walk home.

Author's Note: Peter not being related will make the plot thicken later. =] I've got plans for him 8D But no worries, this is purely a Sylaire fic, just adding a dash of drama.

Thank you to the people who reviewed. =3