Author's Note: Some people are worried this is gonna turn into a paire or pylaire. It isn't, it's just add to add more depth to peter's character, and more conflict later on in the story. I've already written up to 12 more chapters for this (I've got to write ahead in case I get some writer's block or hit a bump), and I promise there is no paire. Just strictly showing the deep understanding, loyalty, and protective bond that claire and peter share. You don't have to be in love with someone to care deeply about them =P and that's what I'm aiming to express for them in this story. Sorry if it seems I'm rambling, I just don't want to discourage some of you who are having doubts. Anyways, I think you guys will like this chapter. I love reviews, and thank you to everyone who has reviewed and stuck with it thus far. Enjoy =]

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

"It's kind of empty. You'd think Angela would spring to get you some furniture." His voice was low, and the vast, vacant room allowed it to bounce off the walls and echo throughout the room. The only thing she had in the living room right now was a bean bag she'd gotten from her room back in the Bennett house.

Sylar walked over, and nudged the blue bean bag with his foot. "Really, Claire? I haven't seen one of these since the 90's." She rolled her eyes in answer and walked through the hallway. She opened up the spare bedroom door, and pointed in. "I'm not your keeper, or your mother. I'm not gonna take care of you. But no one should have to sleep on the floor…" Her voice trailed off, and Sylar wandered into the room.

In the middle of the floor was a simple mattress, there was no box spring underneath of it, or a sheet on top of it. There was a gray comforter folded up neatly on the edge of the mattress. Claire slipped out of the doorway and across the short hall to the opposite wall where the bathroom door was. His silence was bugging her, he didn't have any smart remarks to say?

"This is the bathroom. I'll get some necessities today or tomorrow." Her voice was soft, but dull. Like she had no fight in her today. It unnerved Sylar. He was used to the unruly, smart ass Claire. The one who's fight never left her eyes. Today though, it seemed she wasn't as bull-headed as she normally was. Ever since she left Peter's…

His dark eyes trailed up to meet her face, but her eyes were elsewhere, staring in deep thought as she looked at the wall. Something had happened to her while she was with Peter, it took the fight right out of her. It wouldn't be any fun if she was complacent like this. Letting his eyes travel to the closed door at the end of the hall, he invited himself into her room. If she wouldn't fight like it naturally came to her, he'd just have to bait her.

The sound of her door slamming against the wall made Claire jump out of her daze, and she grudgingly followed him into her room. Her full size bed was set up in the center of the room, and like the rest of the house, it was bare. He turned, a slender brow lifting in her direction. "I'll take this room," he said haughtily. Claire crossed her arms across her chest.

"No," she said simply, turning around to walk away.

Did she really think she could just walk away from this? From him?

It agitated him more then if she would have bitched at him, or if she would have attack him.

Cussing under his breath, he followed her out of the room. "I'm going to be protecting your sorry ass. Since I'll be doing all the heavy lifting, I'll be getting more luxuries."

"I'm really not in the mood to deal with you today, Sylar." Her voice was quiet as she went to the fridge, pulling out a bottle of water. She wasn't being provoked at all, how could he reel her in if she wouldn't even snag it?

"Why?" He threw at her, leaning across the counter top to stare at her.

"Because," she tossed back, taking a swig of cool water.

"What happened at Peter's?"

"Nothing. I don't know what you're talking about." She turned her back on him, her hair tossing behind her. The lie tingled through his body, and he frowned in her direction. She had just placed the water into the fridge, and was shutting the door when she felt her body being jerked backwards. A short gasp as she took in the shock, and then her back slammed into the wall of her living room.

"Don't ignore me." His voice was quiet and menacing. "I'm not stupid." He had his arm in the air, his hand outstretched as if he was choking someone.

Gasping for breath, Claire's arms flailed as she tried to pry away the invisible hands from her throat. Legs kicked, and her upper body jerked upwards as she tried to yank herself off the wall. "N-nothing! Nothing h-happened!" She choked at him, her eyes widening as her lungs threatened to pinch shut. Her head was beginning to tingle, and it was a soothing reminder that she could feel.

Sylar's fingers clenched as the invisible hold around her neck tightened.

"Claire," he warned, his eyes becoming hooded as he tilted his head in wonder, growing aggravated again. Now she was being stubborn again, but he would win. He always won.

In her peripherals, the corners began to fade. If he held on any longer, she'd black out. Realizing this, he loosened his grip. It seemed she needed a bit more motivation. Lifting his other arm, he pointed a finger directly at her chest. Her chest rose as she inhaled deeply, until her lungs were satisfied with the little oxygen he was allowing her.

A sharp pain erupted through her chest as a line of blood began to leak through her yellow shirt. Clenching her jaw, she refused to scream. It was some sort of sick high for him, and she wouldn't let him reach it, not off of her. Another screeching sting as a parallel line traced under the first line of blood.

She wheezed as a third was being made, this time he flicked his wrist as he finished the third. Splatters of blood went across her wall, and she caught it from the corner of her eyes. "Stop!" Screaming through the ominous silence, he paused just as a dot of blood seeped out from below the last line.

"It's Peter. He's…." She jerked, kicking her legs as she fought to reach the ground. He had her lifted, glued to the top of the wall. She was closer to reaching the ceiling then she was to reaching her carpet. "Let me down, I'll tell you." She said through clenched teeth. With a devious smirk, he released her. She fell to the floor, landed on her feet. Losing balance, she slipped and fell over.

Glancing up, she noticed the crimson spots on the wall. Frowning, she realized she should have gotten a darker color wall too.