A/N: Okay so this chapter was a couple days over the week-only goal but I had to write the rough draft of the next four or so chapters before deciding whether to include the Nathan scene in this one or scrap it.

Also, RESEARCH FACTS!, midazolam is a 'sedative hypnotic that causes relaxation and sleep' so it's not a made up word ;) I spend my time on weird fact checking, mmk?

Major thanks to those that have reviewed! Made my days~ Please comment on this one too, if you can; tell me what you think of the direction? I know this chapter was more angsty than cracky but it's for a good cause, I promise. Or, I hope. Only you guys can judge that :D

Dusk fell over the next couple of hours and the three of them — Sylar, Luke, and Claire — remained where they were until then. Their eyes were glued unwillingly on the scene unfolding across the river.

After the explosion, while it did take more than a few minutes for the city to realize what disaster had just unfolded, the emergency personnel response was still quick. Police quarantined the area. Several different firefighter crews worked on putting out the flames and dissipating the thick smoke. The mayor and his entourage had shown up to oversee the proceedings. Concerned citizens were kept at bay.

The way the evil lair's fake observatory was set up, it was situated inside of the warehouse building they used. Luke had rushed to pull the switch for the walls to close together when the police started to arrive. They didn't want the little structure inside to be seen. When his minion did that, Sylar also disabled the screen feeds. They had begun to alternate between shots of protesting citizens and sobbing fits.

It made him feel pained on their behalf. Did they have no power for themselves? Apparently not. They were now all freaking out about what to do since their hero had apparently fallen.

It wasn't a situation that Sylar wanted, either. His minion kept looking at him because of that, of course. Hovering until Sylar would show joy and do his victory call to the cat bots. That would be some time off yet as his expression unknowingly mirrored that of Claire's.

When the sky was dark, the fire was out, and people were beginning to leave the area, Luke folded his robotic arms. "I don't think even he could've survived that, sir."

"We don't know that yet."

"Yes we do," Claire was the one to say. She sounded defeated. He looked over his shoulder at her. She was slumped against the chair, cheeks dry of tears with half-lidded eyes fixed ahead through the window. "He would have flown out by now if he was okay…. If he was alive."

Sylar didn't react beyond looking back to the rubble of a building across the river. Luke cleared his throat before leaning near him. "Uh, shouldn't we let her go now?"

He hadn't been thinking about that. He blinked and nodded, neutral mask sliding over his previously long face. "Get the blindfold." Luke left to do just that and Sylar walked over, kneeling behind Claire to untie her wrists. "You'll be dropped off a block from your apartment."

She rested her chin on her shoulder, glancing to him from the corner of her eye. "This is a first, isn't it? Mercy Man always did this when you were knocked out in the corner."

"I wasn't always beaten up," Sylar protested hotly.

"No." She smiled without emotion. "Sometimes he had to throw you in jail first or get you restrained. Do you know how boring that is? To sit tied up for hours. I never worried that you would kill him. I was just… annoyed. At this game."

Sylar got the distinct impression that she was not necessarily talking to him anymore. She was talking aloud because it was easier. Made her feel better, maybe. He wasn't anyone's therapist but he stayed mum instead of stopping her. It seemed like the right thing to do.

And when did he ever do the right thing? He was the villain. His job was the do the wrong thing, the bad thing. To destroy things and disrupt peoples' lives. He slipped off the last knot of the cloth and pulled it off her hands. His fingers brushed one of her wrists. That, more than the cloth, seemed to alert her to her now free state.

Claire stood, hands coming up to massage her wrists automatically. Instinctual, even if there weren't even any pink marks. She stepped forward to the window and Sylar stood, staying where he was. He tilted his head at her curiously. "What's the point of any of it? Congratulations, you killed him. But you'll never rule this city; we won't let you."

Luke came back then and approached her with the bandana. "Miss Petrelli—"

She turned her head, looked at the thing thoroughly unimpressed, and then sighed. "Can't I be knocked out again? Isn't that easier?" She asked in an exhausted tone.

Luke frowned and looked between her and Sylar. His boss shrugged and then nodded. It was her decision. Who was he to stop her? Giving her another shot of the midazolam was the wrong thing to do. He was the villain, no matter if he had a hero to battle against or not.

His minion grabbed a pre-filled syringe Claire winced right before it went into her arm. Luke went to throw it away but Sylar stayed. It took half a minute to start affecting her. He caught her when she lost her ability to stand, staring at her last look of confusion before she passed out. She looked peaceful like this. No bared teeth or taunting smiles. No fiery eyes, either, though he wasn't adverse to those….

On the other side of town, Nathan walked into his family's estate mansion. He rid of his suit jacket somewhere near the foyer, rolling his sleeves up as he headed towards the kitchen. He noticed one of his security was still in the doorway when he was filling up a glass of water. "Send someone to check my daughter's apartment," he ordered. The man left.

Nathan sipped the glass at the sink. He wanted a drink. Something that would burn the back of his throat and distract him. But he couldn't because he had promised Heidi he would cut back. She thought that him going out with the buddies — other somewhat local politicians and influential business men — to drink a couple nights a week was bad for the family.

He didn't like it, but he could see where she was coming from. He didn't have a problem. Coming home around twice a week drunk, though, wasn't a good impression to leave on Simon and Monty.

Nathan left the half-empty glass on the kitchen counter and continued on down the hallway to the stairs. He was drained and knew that the stern demeanor his father had instilled in him was the only thing keeping him from breaking down in grief. That was coming later.

He stopped in front of the foot of the staircase. The large living room was lit only with the fireplace's dancing flames. It was eerie. Naturally, the form sitting on the couch would be his mother then. He walked further into the room instead, dropping onto a chair near her.

Angela was gulping rather than sipping from a red wine glass. He couldn't tell if the near-empty bottle sitting on the ground had been opened earlier and re-corked or if it was new.

"Ma, you should go to bed."

She took another drink and licked her lips. "No. I'm staying up until there is confirmation."

Nathan leaned his elbows on his knees, frowning. "I can confirm it, Ma. Trust me."

"Did you scour the building?" She asked sharply.

"…No."

"Then I'll wait."

He stared at her for another couple of minutes. He looked away when he saw a shadow near the staircase. Heidi was there in her robe, motioning him to join her. Nathan stood, clasping a hand on his mother's shoulder. "Goodnight, Ma."

"Mm," was all she replied, her eyebrows only raising in recognition of his parting presence. The dismissal felt like a slap to the face.

Claire woke up in her apartment to bright sunlight trying to burn black spots into her retinas. She squinted and rolled over, adjusting her vision in the shade. Why were her blinds open? She always made sure to close them before going to bed. Having a bedroom that faced east only, you know, kind of made that vital.

As her senses came to life, she became aware of her dry mouth and sore limbs. Had she gone out drinking or something? No, that did not make sense. Claire would have been doing a broadcast most of the time for the Mercy Man Day celebra—

The blonde bolted up in bed. She immediately shoved the covers aside and headed for her laptop. It was on the kitchen table, where she left it the morning before. Claire opened the screen and went to the local news station website. Her memories had already been flooding back but right there, all across the page, was her confirmation.

Sylar had crashed the event. He'd kidnapped her. He'd killed Mercy Man.

And she was safe in her apartment the next day, as she always had been before. That was of no comfort. The shock was gone and now angry tears filled her eyes. How dare he. How dare he hurt the city like this! How dare you kill an honorable man like this! A hero!

She used her landline to call the news station as she dressed, ignoring the recognizable handwritten note next to it that said for her to call her father. She was already angry at one person, she didn't want to get worked up about another's right now. "Mercy City Press Agency, this is Cindy, how may I help you?"

"Cindy, it's Claire Petrelli. Can you patch me through to Hal?"

"Oh, Claire! Yeah, uh, hold on—"

The line beeped and then went silent. Claire cradled the phone in the crook her neck as she tied up long hair in a pony tail. She didn't have time for it now, or a shower. Mercy Man wasn't here anymore. There was no one else to stop Sylar's evil plans.

"Claire?!" Hal's voice carried over the phone loudly. She scurried to hold the device an inch away from her ear. "What happened?! Are you okay?!"

"Hal—"

Does Sylar still have you?"

"Hal—"

"Give me a code word, I'll find you and come kick his—"

"Hal!" He finally stopped. "I'm fine. I was let go," she said, looking for her keys now. "But that's not important. I have a lead on Sylar's evil lair and I need your help."