Cold Wars, 3x17 Part 2
They were up and moving again in an hour. It was getting dark, but Sylar didn't want to stop anymore until they reached his father. She understood his impatience but she couldn't help but be nervous. What happened after he met his father? What happened if he didn't like what he found? She certainly hadn't liked Nathan at first. He was corrupt and weak and exactly the kind of man she didn't want as a father. He was also everything she dreamed of. Senator, a hero... Superman. She didn't know exactly how that combination worked yet.
She thought about Sylar. She thought about the boy in the photo in her pocket. She wondered how that combination worked. He'd looked so sweet, so innocent. She turned to look at him now. His face was shrouded in the darkness of the night, his eyes glinting in the sparse streetlights. He was so far away from that little boy that she could hardly believe they were the same person. But then again, you could say the same thing about her. The 'cheerleader' and who she was now were practically separate entities. Completely different people.
But the question was on the tip of her tongue and before she could reign in back in, she'd said it. "How did you become like this?"
She would always remember how he'd looked at her before he said those horrible, horrible words. He'd turned, slow and steady, his eyes completely black. She would remember his smirk, the devil-may-care-but-I-don't thing that she despised and made her heart jump all the same. "I became who I am because of your father. I guess you could say.." He tilted his head to the side as his smirk widened. "He made me."
He'd said as much on that day. The day of the kidnapping/hostaging. "What does that mean?" She had a distinct feeling she wouldn't like the answer.
"Oh, didn't he tell you?" The bitter cruelness in his voice made her blood curl. "He knew I'd killed a man. He didn't do anything. He sent Elle in, let her pretend to like me and led me to another one. A lamb for slaughter." His voice oozed with patented charm that could kill. "And then after he had created me, when I came after you... That's when he came after me."
Claire felt her throat close on her and her head spin. That's what he'd meant. 'I could have been a nobody, instead of the monster I became.' She swerved the car to the right violently, jerking the car to a stop. Luke fell off the backseat and cursed loudly as he woke, but Claire ignored him. An ocean of voices was roaring in her head. Her dad, talking to her. Her dad telling her he loved her.
"I'm not proud of some of the things I've done to keep you safe."
"I wanted to protect you."
"You didn't grow inside your mother. You grew inside our hearts."
"I love you, Claire Bear."
She felt something gurgle at the bottom of her throat and she kicked the car door open, scrambling outside. She wanted to scream, she wanted to call him a liar because her dad would never do anything like that. Her dad couldn't have created Sylar. Her dad was a hero... Except he wasn't. And Sylar wasn't lying. She knew it.
She heard the car door open, but she didn't care. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered. She felt drunk from the amount of oxygen she was taking in. Elle. Her dad. She felt something sting in her eyes and she felt the tears roll down her face. God.
"Show me a hero and I'll write you a tragedy." F. Scott Fitzgerald. There was no more cruelty in his voice. Just a matter-of-fact man talking about a matter-of-fact thing.
"You seem to have written a lot of tragedies." The words got stuck in her throat and came out all warbley and broken and she was sobbing so hard she could barely feel her lungs. Her heartbeat was loud though. It picked up a steady beat in her head and made everything feel all fuzzy. She could feel the heat from his body at the back of her neck.
She felt his hands on her shoulders, squeezing tightly. "Claire." He was saying something. Whispering it into her ear. "Breathe." She was already breathing too much, couldn't he see that? She tried to shake him off as best as she could, scratching at his hands and pulling as hard as she could away from him. His arms stayed firmly on her shoulders and she found she didn't have the strength to fight him anymore.
That was when she screamed. She yelled. She didn't think she'd ever spoken so loudly before. She couldn't hear what she was saying, but she heard random words in her head, like 'hate', 'love', 'ruin', 'lies'. Then her lungs collapsed and so did she. He turned her in his arms and dragged her somewhere. Her feet weren't working. He smelled like mint. The car was moving. She was in the car. She registered these things blearily as she hugged her arms around the warm thing that was holding on to her. Sylar. She closed her eyes and let the world burn around her. She would rise from the ashes. She always did.
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Peter had watched as Matt drove further into Noah's mind, and he was starting to get slightly worried. Mohinder was against what Matt was doing, that was obvious and Noah was in pain. Matt was just cold, and he could see the numbness and anger that dwelled in the man without reading his mind. It was always dangerous in a war when someone was emotionally compromised.
Especially when he himself wasn't exactly sure which side Noah was on. Noah was grey; but he had learned that no matter how it looked sometimes that he was always on the right side, or on Claire's side. He didn't think that he would do this. Genocide. Claire would hate him for it and he knew that was the one thing Noah would never be able to handle.
Matt telling him Nathan and Noah had planned it of it wasn't a surprise. He'd figured as much. Matt insisted the whole thing wasn't about Daphne, but a blind man could hear the lie without looking at Matt's face. If it wasn't for Daphne, Matt would have ran off a long time ago and tried to stay under the radar. If it wasn't for Daphne he would have quit and left them all behind to fight. Daphne had changed things and Peter couldn't decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing. A man about revenge was not about do the right thing; he was simply a dog looking for a bone. Something to quench the pain. Anything, really. Even if it meant inflicting more pain. Peter pursed his lips tighter at the thought.
He was flying over the city towards the address Matt had given him, and he allowed himself to close his eyes just for a bit as he floated next to the sky. Nathan's power was his favorite. He liked being up, right there next to the clouds, where nothing could touch him. He breathed in the cool air once more before swooping downwards towards the warehouse.
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Angela was waiting. Over the years, she had indeed perfected the art of sitting as still as a statue and watching the strangers pass. She had also mastered the art of battle strategy. It was always important to keep in your mind's eye who the enemy was.
At the moment, Sylar didn't pose a threat. He never did, not in the big picture. It the scheme of things, the man was an ant. In her family's life, however... A different story. At the moment, she supposed that the government demanded much more attention, and thus Nathan. Her son. She sighed as she sipped her tea. He was always something of an overachiever, and slightly short-sighted.
Peter was obviously far away, flamboyantly doing the right thing. Another sigh. He had passion and goodness, but lacked subtlety. Claire took after him. They all had a lot to learn.
Her dreams suggested that even though there had been a slight shift in events, starting with the taking of Claire, Nathan would be... Safe. In that way, she supposed the Claire's kidnapping had been largely beneficial. The live's saved by that one move was great. It had, however, puzzled her as to what, or who had made that particular change of events. Her dreams had been so clear; for months and months she could see the death. Meredith, and then Nathan a little later. That blonde from Matt's future.
And then it had tilted. Shifted away from that future without any explanation; all on the night Claire had run off with Sylar.
Then she had dreamed of him. She tilted the black and white photo upwards. The boy she had seen only once, a very very long time ago when he was only a few months old. In this picture, he was at least ten, holding hands with a small blonde haired girl. The look in his eyes was defiance and anger, his stance protective.
A shadow loomed over her and she tilted her head to regard her closest friend. "Hello, Rene." She smiled.
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Nathan hadn't anticipated this when Danko had went after Peter and Matt Parkman simultaneously. They'd gotten Suresh, which was largely beneficial to the cause; what with his scientific knowledge of people like them and their genetic makeup. Danko's ferocity had made him realize how exactly other people's attitude's might be towards harboring people like them and trying to cure them. Many of them might just prefer to shoot and be done with it like Danko.
He couldn't have that.
Peter wouldn't even be able to look at him if people like them started dying because of what he had desired to do. The fact that it wouldn't be his fault wouldn't matter, it would be insufficient and...
He wouldn't be able to look at himself.
Claire would hate him.
And if Monty and Simon ever found out, they'd never be able to look at him again either, not once they'd heard that he'd tried to hurt their beloved Uncle Peter. Even if he insisted it was for their uncle's own good.
He gave a brief nod and flinched at Mohinder's violent reaction to the icy water splashed on his face. He moved closer to stand in front of the wild-eyed man, waiting until Mohinder's eyes focused on him.
"Hello, Mohinder." His voice echoed throughout the dimly lit room.
His eyes narrowed and he felt the intense, fiery dislike of the other man before he deigned to reply. "Nathan."
"I need your help, Mohinder."
Suresh barked out a harsh laugh. "And I am inclined to do so because what?" He snarled. "You've been such a hospitable host to me?"
He sighed, crouching down on the balls of his feet so he could meet the doctor's eyes. "You're going to help me because if you don't, I'm going to find Molly Walker."
The words seemed to reverberate around the room, bringing Nathan's voice to a decibel that seemed to ring in Mohinder's ears. He wasn't sure if it was just him, or it was really that loud. He felt his pulse skyrocket and he swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry.
"What do you need me to do?"
Nathan stood up straight, his eyes on Suresh's. He nodded slowly, then jerked his head at the guard behind Mohinder. "Take the chains off." He walked out of the room, his head held high. The door slammed shut behind him just as the chains fell to the floor.
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It was about an hour later when Claire woke. She was sprawled over the backseat beside a dozing Sylar, who looked patently uncomfortable with his position, his legs bent at an awkward angle that made Claire almost feel sorry for him.
"We're about a few hours away." Luke called from the driver's seat. Claire straightened in the seat, leaning forward. Her chest was tight with anticipation and anxiety, and a part of her felt heavy as the conversation from the day before found itself back to the front of her head. She tried her best to put it out of her head.
"What was he like, Luke?" It was time to focus on the real issue; if Sylar's father was as bad as he was, worse or a lot better. All of them had potential bad endings. If he was just like him, there would be two of them, which would be disastrous. Worse would probably inspire him to be worse, which would be very bad. A lot better might depress him and she didn't know how to deal with a depressed Sylar, or what he would be like.
She sighed.
"He was..." Luke paused, thinking about it. "Nice. He was like a father to me, since mine ran off... He took me bird-watching, brought me breakfast."
Claire smiled, sighing more contentedly as she remembered her father doing that with her. Minus the bird-watching. She guessed he preferred people watching. A part of her snarled, and another part of her panged and she bit her lip, trying to hold back the tears that rushed to her eyes almost immediately.
"He was messed up, though. There was something about him..." Luke shook his head. "He always looking at you too closely. It was scary intense. And of course, there was that criminal investigation a few years ago."
Claire raised her eyebrows, prompting him to continue. "His wife went missing. Was never found." He licked his lips nervously. "The thing that was weird though, was that he didn't seem bothered by it at all. There were no pictures, he never told stories... It was like she was never there to begin with."
Claire's mouth went dry, her heart-rate sky-rocketing. She swallowed, trying to keep her calm. She was a realist, so she didn't try to convince herself that it wasn't anything. It probably was. She took a deep breath.
"Keep driving."
Luke glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "Are you okay? I know he said something..."
Claire inhaled sharply. "Stay out of it, Luke."
Luke was silent for a few moments, before he said. "He likes hurting you, doesn't he?"
Claire didn't answer him.
It was about 20 minutes later when Sylar woke up, eyes bleary and asked that they stop at the next diner. It was an old Italian place with a kind of homey feel that her mom would have loved. She ordered spaghetti, Luke ordered pizza and Sylar ordered lasagna.
The food was good, but Claire couldn't focus. Her head was hurting and her stomach was in knots. She wasn't panicking, she was just tired and anxious. The huge family crowd didn't help, not when she was trying to avoid thinking about her family and the too loud music wasn't helping.
Luke was aggressively trying to hit on the waitress, who apparently liked him back (why, she wasn't sure), and Sylar just seemed to be completely occupied with his food. She wondered if he ate people's brains like he ate lasagna. Just because he didn't eat hers didn't mean he didn't normally eat them. What else would he do with the brains? They never found them at the crime scene, so what exactly could he do with them? Play baseball?
"Did you want some?" Claire came back down to Earth with a jerk, realizing belatedly that she'd been staring quite intensely at Sylar's food. Rolling her shoulders back, she tried to play it cool.
"Yeah." She cleared her throat, sitting up straighter. "It looks really good."
Sylar gave her a strange look, which she guessed was his equivalent of the 'did you hit your head?' look, his eyebrows almost fading into his hair, which was falling in his face, again. And for some reason, that really annoyed her. Without thinking, she leaned forward and brushed it out of his face. He tensed almost immediately, his posture tightening and she remembered the first time she'd touched her face and how well that had gone. He looked almost angry at the touch, but he seemed to lean into it all the same. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, before standing up.
"Claire, come with me." He stood up without any bravado, putting down his fork and edging out of the seat. Luke didn't seem to notice, he was too busy making googly-eyes at the waitress. Claire wordlessly got up and followed him.
He didn't stop walking until they were at the far end of the parking space, standing next to their car. The cold night air stung her cheeks, but she grit her teeth and bore it, folding her arms against herself and waiting for him to speak.
"What are you doing?" He asked, his voice a quiet she didn't much like. Quiet was calm, quiet was calculating, and calculating could be many things.
"What am I doing?" She repeated his words back to him listlessly, the words flowing out of her mouth without much thought. He turned and the dim lights of the diner made his skin paler and his eyes darker and brighter, shining out of his face like dark, shiny onyx beads. It was beautiful and frightening.
He didn't reply. He moved closer, until he was standing right in front of her. With a kind of slowness that could be called gentle, except with the threat of strength that remained behind it, he pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. She shivered under the warmth of his hand, but kept her eyes fixed on his.
"Why did you touch me?" He asked, his hand still resting on her chin, and Claire blearily registered that while she'd touched his face twice, this was the first time he was touching hers.
"Your hair was in your face." She whispered, the wind whipping the words from her mouth.
"I wasn't finished," he said, his hand gripping her jaw more firmly, and Claire knew that if she could feel pain it would hurt. "Why did you care when I..." He paused, trying to figure out how to phrase it, "had a nightmare? Why did you take that bullet for me?" His grip tightened further and he forced her back until her back was pressed hard against the car and she could only look at his face. "Are you just another one of them, pretending to care about me?" His lips curled and his grip grew almost crushing against her neck. "I can tell if you're lying, Claire, so don't bother."
Claire's temper rose slightly at being manhandled in such a way. "Sylar, let go of me." She growled.
He forced her back a little more forcefully. "Answer the question, Claire."
Claire tilted her head back, trying to express the extent of her frustration with him. "I care because... I don't know why!" She jerked her body against him, struggling against his hold. "When you had that nightmare, about your mom, it showed me what I never wanted to see; that you were a person, and you had feelings. It was so much easier when you were just a monster and I couldn't feel anything for you, not even pity." She exhaled and brought her eyes back to his, blinking back angry tears. "And I took that bullet for you because.. I didn't want anyone to die. Not even you." Her breathing evened out a little bit, some of the anger fading. "And I guess, this whole quest to find your parents..." She shrugged a little, uncomfortable with saying out loud something she hadn't even wanted to admit to herself. "You reminded me of me." She wriggled in against his hand. "Now, let go of me." She hissed. He stared at her for a moment, before dropping his hand from her neck.
She felt a slight twinge as the damaged skin healed over.
"You're not lying." He informed her, his eyes still fixed on her.
"Yeah, I figured that out." She groused back, but she wasn't angry. Not really.
"I don't understand you." He told her, and she smiled, feeling slightly triumphant.
"I like that you can't." She said, and she saw a hint of a smile brush across his face. She turned and began to walk back towards the diner.
"Claire?" She paused, turning back to face him. "One more thing."
She exhaled loudly, impatient and slightly irritated. "Wha-" He grabbed her hand and pulled her towards him, leaning down and tilting her face up towards him before brushing his lips over hers. The kiss was demanding and fast, like a wildfire and she was completely not in control of the way her lips moved back against his, the heat of it spreading from her lips down to her neck and all the way down to her toes.
She was caught completely off-guard when he pulled away. "What was that?" She asked shakily, her breath humiliatingly uneven.
"Something I wanted." He took a step back, turning towards the car. "Tell Luke to get back in the car. We're going to stop for the night, and then we're not stopping until we reach my father's house."
This, of course, only served to infuriate her further. "Sylar, you can't just go around kissing people-" And then suddenly, he was too close to her again, leaning into her face and breathing the same air she was breathing. Her breath caught in her throat and she swallowed hard. He smirked, bringing his hand up to brush some hair out of her face.
"Can't I?"
"You can't make me like it." Her voice was barely a whisper.
His smirk only grew wider and Claire knew her lie had been detected, because yes, a part of her had really, really liked it. He pulled away, his expression smug. "Go get Luke."
She turned and ran and she thought maybe she could hear him laughing behind her. Ugh, bastard.
OH GOD WHAT HAVE I DONE?
Anyways, sorry for the extremely long hiatus! Pleaaaaaaaaaaaaaaase review and tell me what you think because seriously, I don't know if I did this right. I hope you liked this and happy belated new year! I hope to update sooner, but that probably won't happen because the school term has started and this year is really, really busy. UGH WHY? But urm, yes I will work on this every weekend. Or try. Or something.