Chapter Two : Cheerleader
There was a knock on her door the next morning, or what Claire believed is the next day out there in the middle of space. It had been what felt like hours ago since she laid down on the decently fluffy bed, waking up to the sound of someone's knuckles on the metal door, which sounded like it could hurt. The night was filled with nightmares, most about what the world had done with the information of her species and a few about Sylar tearing at her brain, searching for more than just her ability. His evil gleam, his malicious smile, and those dark pitting eyes stared into the depths of Hell. She awoke in a cold sweat when the sound of hitting reached her ears. Swiftly, she crossed the room, opening it by the simple matter of her proximity. Claire felt her body tense like rock when her eyes traveled up to the man that kept her up with torture.
Nevertheless, Claire braced herself by clenching her teeth together and bringing up her fiercest scowl. "What the hell do you want?"
Sylar raised a pointed eyebrow, dark eyes unwavering. "The Captain ordered me to guide you to the mess hall for the early meal consumption followed by transferring you to the bridge, where he will inform you of your time here."
Claire scoffed, crossing her arms. "And why can't he show me around? Or anyone else for that matter?"
He looked up at the ceiling for just a moment, a small breath releasing from his lips, forcing her to assume that it was some kind of show of annoyance. "The Captain has his own duties to perform and has no time to look after a child, same goes to any other working crewmen—"
"And you just happened to be the only one to volunteer."
"I can assure you, I did not volunteer." Sylar squared his shoulders, straightening once more. "My purpose is to simply guide you to wherever issued by the Captain. Unless you wish to wait until lunch in five hours and starve, then we will immediately head to the bridge," he explained, not a bit concerned about leaving her without food. 'He would prefer that,' she thought with a glare.
She stepped into the room for a moment to retrieve her newly given communicator before leaving her quarters, hearing it lock behind her. Sylar stretched out his arm toward the right, most likely toward the mess hall, but she remained in place, not moving an inch.
"I can go by myself, thank you," Claire gave an overly sarcastic smile. "I'm not a really big fan of having a deranged serial killer as my breakfast buddy. You kind of ruin the vibe."
Sylar's gaze hardened ever so slightly. "As I have previously mentioned, I am not the person you are confusing yourself with. I am not a serial killer. More importantly, you do not have a choice whether or not I am to join you. My orders have made it explicitly clear that I am to accompany you."
"Oh yeah? Since when do you ever follow someone's orders like some damn puppy? Last time I checked, you kill or torture everyone who even tries to tell you what to do, Sylar," Claire hissed, using her tippy toes to get closer to his face. "Why don't you throw me against the wall? Electrocute me? Cut open my head? What's stopping you from doing all those things?"
"My name is Spock—"
"Your name is Sylar, and that's all you'll ever be," she growled. "After what you did, killing both of my parents and tormenting my life, my family, and my friends, there's no going back to whatever life you had before. I don't know how these people are fooled, thinking that you're some weird ass 'Vulcan' who's just a scientist, and you're all complex or whatever, but I am going to open their eyes and reveal the Boogeyman they have in their ship. Once they realize who you really are, I will have no problem helping them kill you."
There was a small pause. The only sounds around them were the beeps of machinery and distant footsteps. They stood face to face, artic cold glares exchanged with each other, until Sylar unclenched his jaw to whisper. "I am not Sylar, and I am no killer."
Claire shook her head. "It seems that this shape shifting is making you lose your head," she realized with a sneer, dropping to her heels. "But I don't care. I'll make your life a living hell for as long as I'm here. That'll be your regret for taking me away."
She turned away to the right before he managed to say another word. To her disdain, Claire heard him follow but kept a short distance away from her, watching in case she turned the wrong path. She felt her fists clenching, hating the way he acted, as if he didn't know her, didn't know what he had done, all to keep up this odd charade. Claire had to find out what he wanted from her, or at least find a way to force him to take her back. As a plan began to brew within her mind, Claire finally made it to her destination, where the large room filled with tables and chairs were filled with crewmen of all humans and aliens. Sylar suddenly appeared by her shoulder, startling her.
"Will you not get so close to me?" She snapped but was ultimately ignored by him grabbing her elbow, leading her to a line where people stood in front of cabinets that food popped out from. Only, the moment Claire felt physical contact from Sylar, she sent the same elbow back as hard as she could into his stomach, causing him to grunt and nearly double over. She tore her arm away, but he kept an iron grip. "Let me go," she growled, though her voice was practically drowned by the chitter chatter of the crewmen.
Sylar's eyes met hers, and for that second, Claire feared for her life as a fire awakened within those dark orbs. Her elbow was pulled back into position, forcing her to be led into the line by a stern voice. "Assault me again, and you will pay dearly," a deep growl murmured into her ear.
Her eyes instinctively widened, forcing to stare straight ahead, even when she felt his presence never leave. When they reached the front, Sylar inserted a thin green card into a slot, pausing to look at her.
"What is it that you want to consume?" He asked tonelessly, completely different from what it was a minute ago. Claire shrugged, not caring. Sylar released a small sigh, muttering something about humans below his breath before typing in a code on the screen. A moment later, there was a Bing and the larger slot opened to reveal a bowl of assorted fruits and a plate of waffles. Her eyebrows raised in surprise as Sylar let her go to grab the plates, handing the waffles to her and keeping the fruits, then led her to a separate long table in the back. Claire was forced to sit down on the opposite end of him. Before he sat, he went then returned with two steaming mugs.
"Tea," he clarified from her apparent confused expression.
Only, Claire pushed it away, causing him to deadpan.
"Why will you not drink it? I am offering you a symbol of peace—"
"Fuck you, Sylar." His eyebrows dropped. "I don't believe that you've even heard of peace. For all I know, you poisoned it."
Sylar gave her a tired look. "My name is Spock," he sighed yet again, dropping his gaze to stab a fork into the fruit. "And I have no intention of poisoning you, for this is a federal starship and in committing such an act will be an action of attempted murder, something that I can get court martialed and thrown into prison for."
Claire smirked at the thought. 'If death cannot come to you, at least seeing you rot in prison is the next best thing,' she pondered, taking a bite out of her waffle that looked right but tasted wrong. She narrowed her eyes when Sylar spotted her face of disgust, hiding his own small smirk of triumph. They ate their meal in a tense silence. Claire was forced to focus on her surroundings, refusing to meet the eyes of the ones across from her. The concept of being in a starship was mind boggling, truly it was something that she never would have imagined being within one, nor to be transported 245 years into the future. In any other case, she would have been in awe about the people she was around and the environment that enclosed her, but with the current devil looking over her shoulder, Claire was forced to focus on how to use the area to her advantage. If she were to stab her knife into his hand, maybe she could use the time to run away and find somewhere to hide...
"Hey, you two." Suddenly, two more trays joined the seat beside Claire and Sylar, who looked up to recognize the Captain and doctor of the ship. That put her a little at ease, knowing that some form of allies broke the possibility of the original two being alone. Kirk, who had spoken and chose to sit beside Sylar, smiled at them as he sipped from his own mug of coffee. "I thought of joining you earlier than expected. How's ship life so far, Claire?"
She offered a tiny smile. "I was asleep for most of my stay, but the place is pretty amazing."
"Good to hear," Jim smiled back. "And my First Officer has been treating you right by showing you around?"
At once, dark eyes fell upon hers, but she refused to acknowledge them. "I would prefer that I go about the ship by myself from now on, if you don't mind, Captain. I'm capable of walking on my own two feet."
"Sorry, Claire, but protocol mandates that you have to be supervised to prevent any mishaps that may happen," he shrugged apologetically. "Trust me, I hate it more than you do, but even I have to follow the rules from time to time." He began to cut into his eggs, offering her a look. "But considering that you seem to know Spock in some way, I thought it would be best to pair you two together."
"Speakin' of," McCoy spoke, eyes curious. "How do you know the hobgoblin?"
Claire snorted at the nickname. "More like the Boogeyman," she corrected, noting how Sylar's grip on his utensil tightened. The other two widened their eyes, surprised by the comment. Claire opened her mouth to clarify, only for her gaze to capture on the sharpened stare from across the table, observing her carefully, as if daring her to speak another word. Maybe her knife will end up in her eye rather than his hand. The young woman straightened in her seat, appearing to be unwavered by the silent threat, though she did change her initial words. Claire smiled forcefully. "I've known him longer than anyone else on this ship. Trust me, what you're used to is nothing like how I remember."
Even if this weren't Sylar, which Claire refuses to believe, this 'Spock' was obviously holding back on something, or else he wouldn't have been tensing the way that he was. 245 years into the future, there was darkness in him, she could see it in his eyes. One way to prove it is by conducting a test.
"Do watches still exist in the future?" Claire's question immediately took them all by confusion. However, it was McCoy's snort that caught her attention.
"Most watches are outdated nowadays. No need for 'em when everythin' is run by technology," he said, as if complaining about the everyday hassel he has to put up with everyday. "However, I do have a watch from my great-great-great grandpappy McCoy if ya want to take a look at it. It may be outta battery, but I'm sure it still works."
"Perfect," Claire smiled widely.
McCoy stood, tray of food empty. "Well, I'm just about finished. I'll have to look through my quarters, but I'll find ya when I find it. Eh, Spock." Sylar straightened. "Come join me. I have some reports I'd like to share with ya."
"Right away, Doctor," Sylar agreed with a hint of relief in his tone. He stood, grabbing his plate and mug, offering a nod to them before leaving. Claire ignored him, focusing back on the waffles as Jim exchanged seats to be in front of her.
"Are you okay there, Claire?" Jim asked abruptly after a moment of silence. She looked at him, but he shrugged. "I mean, being out here away from home. From your family and friends. You do have those, don't you? You're missing out life, your teen years. Just because you can't get hurt or die, doesn't mean the world around you is the same." He folded his hands before Claire, sighing when she shrugged in avoidance. "I can understand that being sent here is strange, you might feel alone with people 200 hundred years younger than you, but know that I am determined to not only make you comfortable here but send you back home to your loved ones. I promise you that."
Claire felt a sense of warmth when he spoke those words; oddly, Peter found his way to the front of her memory and all the times he has fought for those same privileges for not only her but others as well. Her hero. Her mentor. She could always count on Peter when either of her fathers didn't understand or when he came to her rescue from Sylar or some other villain that tried to use her. Peter may not be here, but perhaps trusting the next best figure may do her some good. Claire hadn't realized that she was smiling until Jim asked her about it, frowning in concern. "You just remind me of my uncle," she explained, remembering. "You and that Dr. McCoy, though the doctor acts more like my Dad sometimes."
The Captain smiled. "Then I'll take it as a compliment."
"My uncle's name is Peter, actually. He, uh, is actually the one who teleported me here, but I know it was an accident. It has to be. Somehow, someway, Sylar got to him and shot me all the way here," Claire muttered disdainfully. "He has my power already. I don't know what else he wants from me—" She paused when she saw the worried face he shot her. "Erm, nevermind. There's no use explaining when there's no proof saying otherwise. It sounds crazy outloud—"
Even with her rambles, Jim shook his head defiantly. "No, no. Actually, I want to know more about Sylar, if you don't mind. While it's true, I don't believe that Spock and Sylar are the same person, but I want to convince you that you have nothing to worry about. He's harmless, it's the Vulcan way. But in order to show you, I need to know why that other guy is such a bother. What exactly did he do to you?"
Flashes of Sylar's cold, long fingers wrapping around her throat then rummaging around her brain caused her to shudder. Every incision he made, every time he threatened her or her family, every time he made her lay awake at night filled with nothing but nightmares terrorized the core elements of her mind. Claire stared at the blue eyes in front of her, innocent and oblivious to the one he calls his second in command. It's going to be a dark day on the Enterprise when they are revealed the truth about 'Spock'. Claire can already imagine Sylar, being cornered by his comrades of whom he betrayed, taken on the form of an alien who he had probably murdered and shoved his body in a room, only to be killed by Claire plunging a knife through every part of his body until he was finally immobile, unable to hurt a single soul ever again.
She offered him a somber smile. "We call him the Boogeyman for a reason. Sylar is a literal manifestation of all evil, whom you should not trifle with. Not only has he killed hundreds of people, but destroyed my life. You see your First Officer, I see him as my tormentor." She leaned forward, eyes narrowing in sarcastic mirth. "You want to protect me? Then brush up on some history. Look into Sylar, Spock, their entire freakin' bloodline. You'll find your answer, and you'll rethink who you have as an ally. But I suggest you keep this from him, Sylar has a tendency to slice throats when his temper reaches its maximum."
The Captain gave a short slow nod, but Claire could tell that her warning would not be heeded as it should. Shaking her head, she stood and gathered her tray, offering one last smile before leaving the man to further explore the ship. After consulting the computer lady in the elevator, which she learned to be called a turbolift, Claire decided that her first destination was the engineering room, where she considered to be one of the more interesting places apart from going to the recreational rooms. Inside was far larger than she expected, though most things were hidden by large pipes and tubes that stretched out toward the majority of the top, where the second and ground floor held the most devices. From a distance, Claire spotted a Scottish man in a red shirt shouting orders to a small green alien to realign something with another mechanical part before running off to check something elsewhere. She smiled in slight amusement before leaving, finding sickbay next.
While Claire by no means needed to be treated anytime soon, or ever, she was quite hoping to find the Chief Medical Officer from earlier, finding his southern drawl and fatherly charm rather comforting in this difficult time. Plus, he seemed as a genuinely good person to speak to apart from Kirk or Uhura, who she managed to run into on the way up here. A nurse spotted her first, approaching her with a polite smile.
"Hello. What can I do for you?"
Claire wavered slightly. "Oh, uh, I'm just looking for Doctor McCoy. Have you seen him?"
"The doctor just stepped out, actually, to run the daily check up around the ship." Claire attempted not to deflate at the news. "You can wait for him if you'd like."
"No, that's okay. Thanks." Instead of doing more, she walked back out to head to the guest quarters, deciding that as everyone she wishes to talk to is busy, she can at least find some form of evidence on what happened since the point Claire disappeared from the carnival. She sat down on the desk, loaded up the computer screen, and requested for all information revolving around 2010, people with special abilities, and so forth.
What Claire found was not what she expected.
'There's nothing.' Claire thought, hearing the computer repeat its findings in the background. ' All that work, all those sacrifices, only for them to cover it up. The government blocked everyone from the truth… It was all for nothing.'
TBC…