for writers_muses: damnation (rp with its_notluck)

[heroslayer]

The silence between them was deafening.

Even though Sylar proved to be her constant companion and shadow, there weren’t many words traded between them. Peter had noticed the tension, they all had, but no one continued to say anything. What could they really say? She had told Sylar what she wanted and that seemed to be enough to drive them cross-country, looking for a moving Carnival and the man they felt needed to be punished for what he had cost them.

It annoyed Claire though, having Sylar constantly nearby and yet more distant than ever. Things were strained between them; to the point of feeling like something was going to break at any moment and she didn’t know what to say to fix it. Somehow saying ‘I love you’ didn’t feel like enough anymore. How could she reassure him that everything was going to be okay when she wasn’t even sure anymore? Things had been better when it was them against the world but now it felt like the world had somehow managed to come between them.

“Have you talked about it?” Peter asked her finally, keeping his voice low as they sat in the parking lot of whatever motel Sylar had picked out this time. Luckily, the man in question was inside getting them keys or else Peter never would have braved asking such a sensitive question.

Even now, Claire shot him a look for daring to go there but then she sighed with a shake of her head. “No.” And honestly, she didn’t think they ever would. What could they really say after all?

“You should,” Peter murmured, not bothering to look at her. He was trying to help after all but he had a feeling that his suggestions weren’t acceptable to either person in the situation.

“There’s no point to.” She replied bitterly, somewhat relieved to see Sylar joining them as she knew the questions and the advice would stop.

Sylar never gave away if he had heard them or not. Instead, he tossed a set of keys to Peter, silently giving him a look to scram before he jerked his head towards the room that he had gotten for himself and Claire. Maybe they weren’t talking very much but he still expected her to listen and to follow, and to share his bed.

She didn’t even bother arguing as she slid from the hood of the car, quietly following him as she glanced briefly at Peter before walking away. As she followed Sylar to the room at the end, she stared quietly at his back while wishing once more that she had the ability to read minds. It had been days, nearly weeks, since the incident and still there was nothing. She had no idea what he thought of what had happened or the fact that she had in fact been pregnant with his child. It was proving to be irritating, if only because the one person she wanted to talk wasn’t and the other wouldn’t shut up about it.

Slipping past him as he stepped to the side, Claire glanced briefly around the room before moving to drop her bag on a chair. She didn’t bother going to the washroom, choosing instead to walk over to the bed where she laid down without a word. She was always tired these days, often choosing to lie down in the back of the car instead of sitting up front with Sylar during the long drives. She wondered if that irritated him ... or maybe she hoped it would. She needed some kind of reaction after all.

“Do you want anything?” He broke the silence finally.

Glancing over, she looked at the room service menu before shaking her head. “Not hungry.”

“You haven’t been eating.” He scowled at her, his eyebrows lowering over his eyes to create dark shadows as he glared at her.

“Not hungry.” She repeated.

“Fine," he snapped at her, as though it was her fault for not being hungry or like she was doing something wrong by not eating. Maybe he was worried about her and this was how it was coming out. He must have decided he wasn’t hungry either though, mainly because he tossed the menu onto the table before dropping into the chair to continue glaring at her.

“What?” Now it was her turn to sound irritated as she scowled at him.

“You’re annoying me," he told her outright.

Even though she had been expecting the answer, she still blinked a little as she sat up. “Excuse me?”

“You’re annoying me. I don’t know what to say to you anymore.” He explained it slowly like he was talking to an idiot.

It nearly got him a pillow chucked at his head.

“So you don’t say anything instead?” she shot back.

“What am I supposed to say?” He looked frustrated with the fact that she didn’t understand that he wasn’t good with this sort of thing. He didn’t know the right thing to say to her.

“Anything!” she yelled, some of the emotion finally breaking through the stoic facade she had been trying so hard to maintain. “Tell me you’re mad. Or that you’re upset! Tell me ... tell me we’re going to be okay.”

That seemed at least enough to kill a fraction of his anger, and he scowled at her for a moment, silent and sullen, like a child who had just lost an argument over bedtime with his parents. Then, finally, he looked away, muttering, "I don't know."

For some reason, that answer stole all the breath from her. "You don't know? You mean, you don't know if we're going to be okay?"

"I don't know!" His annoyance had clearly reasserted itself. He reached up, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose, and shook his head. "I can't -- "

He didn't know how to get out what he was feeling, not much for feeling at all beyond rage and want and the smug sort of superiority he carried around on a daily basis. The last time something like this had happened had been when his mother had died and something inside him had snapped. He'd gone hurtling through the rest of his life, his supposed destiny, with little regard to anything else. It didn't matter if New York went up in flames. It didn't matter if Nakamura manged to snub out that yellow streak he had painted on his back like a target. Even thinking he was a dead man hadn't mattered at the time. It had hurt, but it was nothing more than a conclusion, so distant it could have been happening to someone else.

He didn't know how to cope with something like this without folding; he didn't know if they would be alright because he wasn't sure he was. It was so hard to tell what was routine and what was reaction.

Claire knew he wasn't good at coping, it was something they both struggled with every day. But the key had been, for the last few years, that they had turned to each other somehow. Even when it was just a sick game, they sought each other out and used the other person for some sort of outlet, some sort of release. It wouldn't work this time though and that bothered her. This time she didn't know how to reach out to him or even what to say because she had no idea what words could be said to her to make her feel better, all because she knew she wasn't alright either.

Still, the fear that maybe they weren't going to be okay got to her. "You can't ... " she murmured, echoing him with a little shake of her head. She couldn't even guess what he was going to say and so she dropped her head into her hands, struggling to breathe.

He got to his feet abruptly, moving towards the door. That was what he was supposed to do, right? That's what happened when they argued. He got up, went out, and whenever he wandered in later, things were okay again. He doubted that would work this time, that whatever atrocity he went and committed in the name of feeling better would make him feel better, but he didn't know what else to do. He'd told Claire that much, and he meant it.

She looked up sharply at the sound of him moving. "Where are you going?" She knew this was his way of dealing but this time she couldn't bear to watch him walk away. When he had done it before, he had always come back but now she wasn't so sure he would this time.

"To do something useful," he answered, moving to grab his coat from where he'd dropped it earlier. He didn't look back at her. "Maybe I'll go fix Peter."

"Why can't you just stay here with me?" she asked, gettng to her feet.

"Because I can't." Christ, had she always been so fucking clingy?

She breathed in slowly, staring at him quietly. "Fine," she replied bitterly, shaking her head slowly as she wondered why she was even amazed at the fact that he was going to walk out. She gave a dry laugh, more aimed at herself than at him, as she turned away from him. "Just get out then."

For all that he had planned on walking out on his own, those four words gave him pause. He turned, furious, and stared at her from under his eyebrows, his expression equal parts fury and pain. "What?"

"You heard me." She didn't even bother turning around to look at him. Instead, she moved to discreetly wipe a tear away even as she kept her voice steady. "Get out."

And so came the break from what little sanity he had that he had been expecting.

Faster than could be perceived, he darted across the room to her, fingers winding viciously in her hair to snap her around to face him. He said nothing, however, instead contenting himself to staring down at her menacingly, his teeth bared in a sneer.

Her breath caught as she felt his fingers twisting in her hair, creating sharp pressure on her scalp as he snapped her around to face him. She almost stumbled, managing to catch herself at the last minute as she grabbed onto his arm and then focused on the face of madness above her. There was no hiding the fact that her eyes had been brimming with tears or the fact that she looked strangely resigned to face whatever it was that he was going to do. So she looked at him, waiting expectantly as she arched one brow at him coolly.

"You wanted to fix this," he hissed, when words felt fit to return to him, "so I'm fixing it. I'm giving Peter back what he's missing so we can fight this sonovabitch and you treat me like I'm walking out?"

"Aren't you?" she asked softly.

"If I was, I would have killed you first." He shoved her away viciously, turning back towards the door, though he did not move for it.

She stumbled back, landing on the bed with a bounce as she caught herself from falling over completely. Pushing the hair back from her face, she looked at him with a dry noise that should have been a laugh. "Right."

She wet her lips. "That would mean you'd have to stay in the same room though, which you can't, remember? You can't even talk to me, let alone look at me." She shook her head slowly. "No, instead you act like you're the only one who can feel anything about this. Like you're the only one who lost something."

"I told you," he insisted through still clenched teeth, "I don't know what the hell I'm supposed to say. And it's not like you're talking either."

"Because if I say the wrong thing, you'll threaten to kill me." Seriously, they had such a loving and stable relationship.

He rolled his eyes. "Funny how you're still breathing after all the arguments we've had, then, isn't it?"

"None of the arguments we've had have been as serious as this," she pointed out before falling silent, sighing. Finally, after a minute or two, she asked one of the questions she needed an answer to, "Do you blame me?"

He took that the wrong way, thinking they will still arguging about their communication issues. "I don't know. But I'm tired of the double standard -- you're allowed to clam up but I'm a coward or self-centered if I do the same damn thing?"

She blinked at him for that. "I meant for losing the baby." But then she sighed, shaking her head. "I'm ... sorry. I don't try to do that to you. But you read me way better than I read you."

He looked away from her, frowning, though despite the fact that he wouldn't meet her eyes, he answered honestly. "I don't. It's not your fault." There was a pause, ice creeping on to what little she could see of his face, and then coldly, he said, "It's his."

It made her feel better that he told her that he didn't think it was her fault. Now if only she could actually believe it when she tried to say the same thing to herself. She nodded, looking down again as she let out a slow breath. "Which is why I want to hunt him down."

It was easier to focus on an outside problem.

"I figured as much." He sighed, returning to the chair he'd thrown himself down in earlier to repeat the process.

She let the silence grow between them for a moment or two before finally looking over at him again. "Do I really do that to you? The whole double standard thing?"

He hummed affirmatively, but said nothing.

"I don't mean to," she admitted honestly.

"Must run in the family," he mumbled, his eyes moving to the door. He'd heard Peter trying to get a reaction out of her in the car, even though she clearly hadn't wanted to talk, but he'd pretended he hadn't. He'd thought, somehow, that it was easier that way.

"Yeah." She looked down at her hands which were folded together now. "I'm scared, Sylar. Or freaked out." She wasn't sure if there was a difference between the two but it felt like there was.

He still didn't feel mch like having this conversation, but he supposed he had no choice, now. She was being candid; she most likely expected him to return the favor. Sighing, he closed his eyes for a moment, before, "About what happened? Or what else might?"

No, this time she wouldn't force him to share but he had said that she would shut down on him. So she was trying to meet him half way, trying to let him in and to let him know what she was feeling at the moment. Then he would know and she wouldn't say anything if he left for awhile.

"That I was pregnant and didn't even know. I can't help but wonder if that's because of my ability, even if it didn't protect it in the long run." She sat a bit straighter, brushing some hair back from her face. "And there's a part of me that's relieved because we're clearly not ready for kids. Of course, I'm not sure about us ever being ready," she admitted, tilting her head. "But mainly I feel ... sad. And pissed off ... and guilty."

The sadness and the anger he could understand, but he could not wrap his head around her guilt. "Why guilty?"

She couldn't look at him for this one. "For losing it at all. Partially because my ability didn't save it and ... " She didn't know if she could understand or explain the rest, she just felt guilty.

He made a face at her. "Don't."

"Don't what?" She looked over at him.

"Don't feel guilty. Like I said, it wasn't your fault." Never mind the fact that a part of him wondered if he couldn't have prevented this if he hadn't been reveling in the high of the kill.

"I'll try." She gave him a weak smile before sitting up a bit straighter, brushing some hair back from her face. "So." A slight pause. "I guess you should go fix Peter." She was giving him an out now.

Sighing, he reached up to thumb at his eyes again. "I probably should."

Another pause. "Are you going to give me anything?"

"You mean another ability?" They'd talked about it and he still wasn't sure how he felt about it. With him and Peter both at full capacity, he didn't think she needed anything else, nor was he completely certain it would even take, given her healing. "I don't know. Peter and I should be able to protect you."

"But what if you can't? Peter was there and he wasn't able to stop what happened," she pointed out. "And it happens that sometimes we get split up." She knew he didn't really feel comfortable with the idea of her taking another ability on but she thought it was a good idea. "Being indestructible is great but I'd like to be able to defend myself."

He frowned at her, silent for the moment, considering it. He could just stay closer next time, he figured, though he doubted she'd agree to that, spouting more of the same argument she had about Peter's inability to defend her. He still didn't particularly like the idea of her having another ability, though, and he couldn't say all of it was for rational reasons. One part of him argued that he and Peter had had enough problems dealing with multiple abilities; another part simply didn't want to share his toys.

"I'll find you next time," he said, finally.

"You'll find me next time?" She arched a brow, her tone a bit dry.

"I've done it before." He rolled one shoulder in a shrug. "I can do it again."

She thought about arguing with him but now wasn't the time. That would come later when she was sure he'd be more willing to listen to her. Maybe it was a bit manipulative of her to do so but she was starting to figure out how to pick and choose her battles with him. So she sighed as though she were truly bothered by what he was saying. "Fine." She rolled her eyes. "Just go and fix Peter."

The frown turned into another scowl. "You don't get it, do you?"

She sighed. "Don't get what?"

"You remember how Peter almost killed everyone on Kirby Plaza, right? How he couldn't control his abilities because he had to deal with more than one?" He shifted a bit in his seat, leaning forward to stare holes through her. "Most people can't handle it. I can't handle it. Why the hell do you think I keep killing people?"

True, that was a side effect of his own ability, but he figured it counted for something.

"I'm not asking for more than one." She leaned forward as well, her eyes flashing. "I'm tired of being defenseless, Sylar. I can't always depend on your and Peter. Or what happens if someone captures you? I don't have the power to get you guys back."

"I got out last time. I can do it again."

"Okay, but what if, for some reason, we're not together?"

The anger on his face seemed to die, but there was something in his eyes, even as he backed off and leaned back in his chair. Something dangerous. Something, had he been in his right mind, he would have supposed went hand in hand with his remaining handhold on sanity slipping away from him earlier. "You really want a power that bad?"

The look in his eyes should have worried her, should have made her back off, but maybe she didn't have the same hold on sanity that she used to. "Yes."

He wet his lips with his tongue. "Come here."

She eyed him for a second before moving to her feet, making her way over to him.

"Kneel down." He made a gesture, mirroring his words, his eyes still shining. "This probably isn't going to feel that great."

She didn't question him even though she wondered at the way his eyes looked at the moment. Still, she slid her hands onto his knees before kneeling down in front of him. "What are you going to give me?"

He brushed his fingers over her cheek, cupping her chin lightly when his hand came to a halt. "You'll find out."

Then, rather than wait for her to answer, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, pouring power into her skin. He could only hope that it hurt like a bitch and that she could feel every second of him shifting things around in her head.

It was a strange sensation when he started to pour some power into her. Her breath caught as every muscle in her body tightened to the point of nearly snapping and she swore she was actually going to be sick. It didn't quite hurt but it burned as she could feel him shifting around in her head, the second presence in her head causing incredible pressure as she let out a low whine while digging her nails into his knees.

He ignored her, focused solely on his task, unable to stop now that he started. The sensation was like being sucked into a black hole, the gravity of the empty spaces in her head too much for him to escape until they had filled. And when he finished, when he could finally pull away, it was with great difficulty, his fingers seemingly glued to her face when he hadn't been paying attention, the room nearly liquid and churning around him.

He took a deep breath, only half-aware of her fingers dug into his jeans, and closed his eyes. If that hadn't worked, he wouldn't try again, no matter how fun it would be to see her suffer after the fact. He felt too drained, too weak, and he still had to summon the strength of will to return Peter's empathy to him. He wondered if she felt the same, and so he asked, "How do you feel?"

Claire couldn't answer him right away, as though the ability to speak had been sucked away from her somehow. Instead she was silent, all except for her ragged breathing as she leaned against his knees with her forehead nearly resting on his thigh. She had a death grip on him as well, one that hadn't weakened in the slightest but looked more like her nails were going to snap off at any moment.

When she finally stirred, showing signs of life again, she looked up at him quietly as her face shone with a thin layer of clammy sweat. The emotions that shifted across her features went from confusion, to wariness, to realization and then back to a strange sense of bewilderment. "I don't ... feel different." She shook her head slowly, pushing herself back weakly as she tried to get to her knees. She ended up as a boneless pile on the floor instead.

"Give it a few minutes," he murmured, cracking one eye to peer at her, only to shut it again when it seemed his vision hadn't stopped swimming. She could get her feet back under her on her own; he had his own things to worry about, right now.

She didn't seem to be in a rush to move though. She remained where she was, curled up on the floor where she sighed a little. Then she frowned in confusion, arching a brow even though she didn't open her eyes. "Sylar?"

"Mm?"

"Can you get rid of the clock in here?" She pressed a hand against the side of her head. "It's loud."

Slowly and carefully, he tilted his head to one side, listening for the clock and thinking it was odd that he hadn't noticed it. Even with his focus directed elsewhere, it hadn't even registered as white noise, and -- and now that he was listening, he could only hear the metallic whir of the transformer inside and the buzz of the circuits. The clock was digitial, not manual. She shouldn't have been able to hear that.

He allowed her a weak, wicked smile. "It's not the clock."

It didn't register right away. It took her a few minutes to work through what he had said to her, trying to figure out how she could be hearing ticking if it wasn't the clock. Opening her eyes, she looked over at the bedside table where she could see the digital clock. In fact, she could hear the buzzing but it was drowned out by the ticking in her head. "What ... did you do?"

"You wanted powers." He shrugged, and though it made his head spin again, he did not regret it.

She just stared at him because what else could she say? She had asked him to give her an ability and he had. In the end, Sylar had given her the ultimate weapon to protect herself with. His very own ability which was now hers too.

"Take two aspirin and call me in the morning. We'll see how you feel then." With great difficulty, he pushed to his feet, taking a moment to steady himself so that he wouldn't fall flat on his face, and then he staggered towards the door. "I need to go see Peter before I change my mind about helping him."

Or before he fell unconscious; he felt faint enough as it was.

"Somehow I doubt aspirin would fix this." She groaned a little bit, rolling her eyes before closing them with a sigh. "Try not to pass out along the way, okay?"

"It worked for me for a couple of weeks. Or maybe it just helped with the migraines I got when I manifested. I can't remember." He paused by the door, trying to catch his breath. "I'll ... be back in a few minutes."

"Sylar," she called out to him.

"Claire?" He didn't bother looking back at her, afraid his ability to stand upright would crumble to dust if he moved his head that fast or that far.

"You can help him in the morning." She tilted her head back to look at him from where she was on the floor. "You need time to rest. You look like you're going to collapse any minute now."

Slowly, he turned away from the door, lumbering towards the bed so that he could collapse on it, face-first. And after he lay there for a moment, he turned his head to mutter at her. "Try to avoid cutting me open in the middle of the night."

He seemed to remember there being weeks and weeks of build before the hunger hit fever pitch, though, and he doubted she'd saw him open. Peter, maybe, but not him. The statement had been, for the most part, a joke.

For some reason, it made her laugh a little bit. "I'll try." She thought of pointing out that she didn't have telekinesis like him but she was too tired at the moment. Instead, she focused on dragging herself up onto the bed, sighing as she finally collapsed beside him. "No promises though, okay?"

Humming, he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close. And within a matter of seconds, he was unconscious, his breathing still erratic for the most part.

She slid closer to him as he wrapped an arm around her and she smiled a bit before letting out a small sigh. Within seconds, she was passed out as well.


Muse: Gabriel Gray (Sylar)
Fandom: Heroes
Word Count: 4654
Note: Peter is hadtobeahero and is used with permission.