"I really wish you'd just go back home, or stay over my place until this all settles over," Peter whispered, his eyes showing intense concern for Claire.

"This is my home, Peter," she explained, the fight in her eyes showing effusively. "I can't just run to you or run back to my father when things get too hard here."

"How're you supposed to be safe with Sylar?" They were talking in hushed whisper, standing outside of Claire's door. "He'll be the death of you, Claire. Something just… it doesn't feel right."

"That's because you've got a blonde warrior named Andrew chasing after you. Instead of worrying about me, maybe you should focus on some of your problems." Claire smirked, crossing her arms over her chest. Peter took a step back, sighing as he drug his hand through his hair. "Yeah, I'm going to head over to my mom's now. This is all probably her fault anyways."

Reaching forward, she placed a gentle hand on his upper arm. "Just…be careful."

A crooked smile lifted one side of his lips, and he took a step back. "You too." A rush of wind came from no where, sweeping blonde locks up, tousling them about. He was gone. Claire ran her hands over her hair to flatten it, and stepped into her apartment. The room was empty as far as she could see, Sylar wasn't at the door, ready to spring into action.

Staring around hesitantly, Claire closed the door behind her soundlessly. She took a few soft steps into the living room, peering around the wall into the hallway that led to their bedrooms. Her feet were filthy, she had long lost her heels. But at least the clicking of her heels wouldn't alert him of her presence.

"Really Claire? You're sneaking into your own house?" He looked down at the invisible watch on his wrist. "Wait, isn't it way past your curfew?" Lifting a hand to cover his mouth, acting like he was a shocked, concerned friend. "Oh, let's hope daddy doesn't find out you were out all night."

Claire's mouth tightened, and she turned to stare at him. He had managed to find a spot where he blended in inside of the kitchen. He'd seen her the whole time. Why was he so good at this? All of those self defense classes did nothing against him, how do you fight telekinesis and electricity? They said fight fire with fire, but what were you supposed to do when you couldn't?

Fight with water?

Shaking her head, she gazed up at Sylar, sticking her chin out, staring at him boldly. She'd just have to fight with her own fire, although lately it seemed to get her nowhere but in trouble.

"There aren't any hot sauce bottles around, or any picture frames for you to push me away this time. What're you going to do?" He took a step towards her, calculating and slowly.

As if on cue, she took a step back. The look in his eyes were powerful, as if he were trying to paralyze her in place. She wasn't a wide eyed doe though, she wouldn't be entranced. He took another step towards her, and she moved back in tune.

"What? Can't fight without a weapon?"

"Can you fight without yours?" She snapped back, her eyes narrowing. "I doubt you even know how to throw a punch. You rely on your finger a little too much, don't you?"

His lips drew up in a smirk, and his thick brows lifted with surprise. "You sure you want to find out?"

"Come on, bring it. I like it rough," she retorted, tossing her locks of gold hair over her shoulder and spreading her feet until they were shoulder width apart. She was edging him on, and he took the bait. He chuckled darkly at her last comment, tilting his head to the side to consider the situation.

"I imagine you do, Claire. But only because you haven't found something that's enough to make you tick, something that's just too rough for the pretty princess, right?"

With this, she glided across the floor gracefully. His dark eyes narrowed, and he met her somewhere in the middle. They weren't fast like Peter, but their fists flashed past each other's faces, always almost connecting. He had a bit of advantage, he was bigger and stronger. Finally, his fist connected with her cheek, snapping her head to the side.

Bringing it back to glare heatedly at him, she slid forward, ducking another fist that was threatening to slam into her face. She was smaller, faster. Her fist connected with his lower abdomen, and he brought a strong hand forward to backhand her. Her eyes exploded, and her cheek flared. She remained balanced, and didn't stumble. Instead, she came at him again, ready for more.

She surprised him with her balance and her strategy. She really was trying. And these weren't moves that just came off of instincts. He raked through his memories, through memories of when he was Nathan. Suddenly, it came to him. He paid for the self defense classes. He paid for the shooting range. Was that Nathan's decision? Would Nathan have really done that? Or was that Sylar subconsciously preparing her for the future? For their future?

A satisfied smirk came to his lips, and it was immediately wiped off as Claire's angry fist pounded into his jaw. He stumbled back, shock registering on his face. The look on his face caught her off guard. Was he really surprised? Smugly, she came at him again without assessing the best approach. All of those cheerleading practices and self defense classes had finally paid off, she thought.

Sylar was quick to act though, he noticed her spontaneous reaction. He took his opportunity, and ducked to the floor. His leg slid out, and he swiped it across the floor until it came crashing into her bare feet. Her hands flew into the air as she was knocked off her feet onto her ass.

Claire's chest was heaving, she was panting quietly. A thin sheet of sweat made her golden skin glisten under the soft light in the living room. Sylar stood up on both feet, then grinned down at her. Claire groaned silently, rolling her eyes. She moved to get up, but Sylar was bringing her to her feet with his invisible hold.

She expected another brutal punishment, instead he came towards her. He was invading her space, and he brought his face close to hers. She closed her eyes, swallowing hard. Was he about to kiss her? Instead, she got a soft tickle against her ear as he murmured faintly, "Better luck next time."

He walked around her, taking long strides until he got to his room. He slipped into his room and shut the door behind him. Grinning, he walked over to the mattress and sat along the edge. He knew she was out there wondering what the hell was going on. He leaned back, putting his hands under his head. And unless she found a good distraction, she'd be thinking about him for the rest of the day and into the night.

She blinked, looking around suspiciously. Claire lifted a hand to touch her face, wondering what the hell had just happened. She was under his control, and then he just let her go? After everything that had happened last night? He had a chance to make her feel miserable, and instead, he just left her there. Confusion plagued her mind, along with thoughts of him. Was this part of diabolical plan? Was this some sort of joke?

Clamping her mouth shut, her jaw tightened as she turned to glower at his closed door. He had to be coming back out, there was no way he would just… walk away from her. Would he really walk away without mocking her? Without making her feel even worse?

Her heart hammered against her rib cage, and her body shook angrily. She didn't know if she was more pissed that she'd lost, or that he just walked away without giving her a reason to hate him more. If she thought throwing a couple of punches with him was a way to vent, she was horribly mistaken. Now she was even more bewildered then she'd been when she walked through the door.