heroslayer | Entries tagged with featuring: claire bennet

Something shatters downstairs.

The sound is faint, not a window breaking but a cup, but it's enough to cut through the haze of faint awareness he's been floating in for the last few days and drag him gasping into full alertness. He lays there for a moment, staring blankly at the ceiling, trying to wrap his head around the sound and the odd, displaced feeling that comes with waking up somewhere you can't remember ever being, and then there's another crash from downstairs. He sits up abruptly, glaring holes in the twilight of the room, straining to listen.

He hears voices but nothing else, not even with his hearing, his focus shot to hell and wrapped in cotton, but it's enough to put him on edge. He can remember Samuel now and everything move he's made against them since he and Claire walked out of that damnable carnival, and he's quick to assume that they're under attack again. The barker has sent his cronies after them or come himself again, and he won't stand for it.

He moves to swing his legs over the edge of the bed and winces once he manages, teeth gritting, his muscles crying out from months and months of disuse. He ignores the pain, however, not even sure why it hurts in the first place, and staggers to his feet, a hand going to the nightstand to steady himself. And once he feels certain enough standing, he lets go, pushing away to move towards the door.

He gets exactly three steps away before the IV line tugs at his hand, and the shock of it is enough to send him off balance. He sprawls to the floor gracelessly, a snarl on his lips, and the voices downstairs stop abruptly.

A long, tense moment follows and then the sound of someone coming up the stairs chases the silence away. The door opens cautiously a moment later, and Peter pokes his head in, backlit by strange, flickering light. When he steps into the room, he realizes it's coming from the flames lapping harmlessly at his fingertips. He hums, amused, and tries to drag himself to his feet again.

"Whoa, hey." Peter is by his side in an instant, the fire at his hand dying suddenly, and wraps his arms around his waist. He doesn't even try to claw his way free as Peter hauls him back up to the bed. "Take it easy. You've been out of it for awhile."

Confused, he stares at Peter, trying to work out what the hell he means by that, and it all filters back to him slowly, a chill creeping up his spine as each snippet of memory returns. Giving Peter his original ability back. Passing out afterward. All of it. He opens his mouth to ask the other man just how long it's been, but he misses his chance, Peter sliding away from him to rush towards the door.

He pushes it open widely, yelling down the stairs, "Claire! He's awake!"

And Sylar can't help the stab of annoyance that follows when he realizes he must have been out of play for quite some time.

Muse: Gabriel Gray (Sylar)
Fandom: Heroes
Word Count: 526
Note: Pretty sure the ex isn't stalking me and my muses anymore, so ... Peter is

hadtobeahero and all mine to use and abuse.

To say that things were currently awkward between Sylar and Claire was putting things rather mildly. It was more of a question of who was more awkward at the moment. They had gotten to a point of having conversations, particularly in the morning, over a cup of coffee, while waiting for the rest of the Carnival to wake up so that they could start their day. They had even taken to talking at night before falling asleep.

In other words, they had fallen into an almost-easy companionship till the night of the eclipse.

With the fact that they had come very close to going further than cuddling and sleeping beside each other, there was new tension in their tiny trailer and between them. Claire had thought about pursuing the idea of her own trailer once more but the question never came up whenever she saw Samuel. Strangely enough, she found ways to conveniently forget till she was faced with Sylar and the silence again.

Tonight was such the case as they sat manning the Ferris Wheel. Sitting on a box by the controls, she leaned back against the fence while glancing sideways at her counterpart again. Sometimes she wished that he would say something -- even if it was something just to piss her off -- because she hadn't figured out anything as of yet.

He didn't, however -- or at least not immediately. Instead, he busied himself with the control panel under his fingers, picking at a silver of old, peeling masking tape that had stubbornly refused to part with the metal when whoever it was had peeled the rest of it off, pointedly ignoring her. Where his refusal to look at her had had something to do with awkwardness at first, in those days that had followed their near tumble into bed, his reasoning had taken a slow slide to something more familiar in the weeks that followed.

( Awkwardness had turned to rage and he was furious. )

Muse: Gabriel Gray (Sylar)
Fandom: Heroes
Word Count: 2045

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. )

Muse: Gabriel Gray (Sylar)
Fandom: Heroes
Word Count: 4654
Note: Peter is

hadtobeahero and is used with permission.

Claire sighed as she continued to recline against the mountain of pillows that were stacked at the head of the hotel bed where she had spent the last couple hours trying to read. It was useless though. They hadn't moved for a couple days, finally feeling safe enough to stay off the roads and to keep from moving around so much. They were pretty used to running after all but it could be a bit much after hours and days on the road. But now she almost didn't know what to do with herself when they stopped. Brushing her fingers through her hair, she bit back an irritated sigh as she let the book fall away to the bed and she looked around the room.

Finally she pushed off of the bed, glancing towards the door as she thought of finding Sylar and Peter. Shaking her head after a moment, she glanced at her phone on the dresser before disappearing into the bathroom. She still hadn't told Sylar about calling the Haitian. She figured she would wait till he called.

Sylar, too, had found himself growing restless in spite of the fact that it was his idea to stop, and so he'd stepped out for a bit, hoping for luck to strike and for him to find what he was looking for in town. That, unfortunately, had never happened, and so he had returned to the hotel room, empty-handed and near sulking. He took a moment to look around as the door closed behind him, as if he half expected stroke of genius to hit him, shook his head when it didn't, and moved over to the bed.

( He'd gotten as far as flopping down on the mattress when something on the dresser rattled ominously. )

Muse: Gabriel Gray (Sylar)
Fandom: Heroes
Word Count: 1520
Note: Follows this and this.

To say that Claire was tense at the moment was putting it mildly. Lately, ever since her phone call with the real Sylar, she had been on edge. The knowledge that he was coming to find her because she had his body and he wanted to get it back bothered her more than she cared to admit. It wasn’t so much about seeing him that was going to bother her but more because having him there meant that Nate would be disappearing.

As it was, she had a hard time leaving him alone for a long time. Right now she was curled up against his side, waiting quietly for the fateful phone call that would come and let her know that Sylar was nearby. At least that was the way it was supposed to go.

That was the way it was supposed to go, but Sylar had never been one to stick to a plan that wasn't his. That in mind, it probably should have come as no surprise that rather than a phone call, there was a swift knock on the door, Samuel poking his head into the room a moment later.

"He's here," he announced, looking sharply to Nate before returning his eyes to her. "It's time, Claire."

Claire looked at Samuel before sitting up slowly, the information sinking in quickly that Sylar was there. She wasn't at all surprised that he hadn't called her but she still couldn't help the slight irritation that flashed across her features before she hid the reaction and looked over at Nate. She hoped the guilt wouldn't be evident as she gave a weak little smile and a nod. "Okay."

What was she supposed to say to him? She couldn't tell him outright that they were going to face Sylar and he was going to disappear after all. So she settled on touching his shoulder as she started off of the bed. "Come on."

( Nate watched Samuel retreat, and then shot Claire a glance. No one had bothered to fill him in on the plan, and between that and the guilt that fishtailed across her face, he wasn't so sure he liked whatever was going on. )

Muse: Gabriel Gray (Sylar)
Fandom: Heroes
Word Count: 4025
Notes: Samuel is

offering_hope, and is all mine to use and abuse. The use of Matt is not directed at any particular journal.

i.

"I have something for you."

Mohinder looks up, smiling. "What?"

His fingers curl around the box in his pocket. It's not a ring, that part of their relationship almost two weeks behind them, but it's just as good and he's just as nervous. So much so that he finds he can't find the words, no matter how much he wants this.

Somewhere in the distance, bells toll the start of the new year, giving him an out, and he darts around the table to crush his lips against Mohinder's, wordlessly. He has all the time in the world to ask later.

ii.

The new year comes with a raucous cry and an explosion of color, and despite the fact that he was damn sure he wouldn't be awake to see it, the sound is more than enough to rouse him from dozing. He shifts a bit, straying just far enough away from Claire to glance at the clock, and then he curls up around her again.

He waits, counting the minutes until the fireworks stop making the shadows shudder, and leans to brush a kiss over her lips. She smiles against his mouth, never really asleep either, and kisses him back, softly.

iii.

( "It's midnight on the East Coast." )

Muse: Gabriel Gray (Sylar)
Fandom: Heroes
Word Count: 1000
Note: Each of these ficlets are 100 words exactly. May I never, ever decide I want to do something like this again.

Claire didn’t know if it was from being tired or not, but had taken her hours to come up with some sort of plan or idea on how to lure Matt to meet her. Nothing she thought up seemed like a legitimate reason to drag him in and put him danger because it would certainly be there. Even if Samuel had promised not to interfere, there was still Sylar. She could only hope he would be too disorientated to attack Matt after getting his mental capacity back and that it would give the cop enough time to run away. After that, maybe she could convince Sylar to leave Matt alone. She could only hope.

Sitting on the bench near the Ferris wheel, she looked at her phone quietly as she studied the number Matt had given her a long time ago. Pressing the call button, she held the phone to her ear and waited with her heart in her throat. As soon as he answered, she swallowed thickly before responding. “Matt? It’s Claire. Claire Bennet.”

"Claire?"

There was an almost amused note in Matt's tone at the mention of her name -- probably because it wasn't really Matt talking. Sylar had become aware that he was sharing headspace with the cop some time ago, and just recently, he'd figured out how to snatch control away from him. How to use his body to his own ends. And while the killer didn't relish the idea of wearing Matt's fatsuit, it was better than being without his body, and this? This phone call made it all worth it, somehow.

Grinning wolfishly, he shot the phantom of the cop that was still hanging around -- and shouting futilely at Claire to hang up -- a look and cleared his throat, before trying to imitate his headmate as best he could. "Yeah, hey. Sorry, I didn't recognize the phone number." A beat. "What's up?"

The almost amused tone caused her to pause for a moment because that was a reaction she hadn't been expecting. Rushed, worried or maybe disapproving? Yes. But not almost amused. Maybe he didn't know about what had happened? Maybe her father had never called him to let him know that she somehow knew about Nathan and that she had disappeared. She could only hope that was the case because then it would make it easier to convince him to come and see her.

( "I ... I need your help with something." It wasn't a lie, she did. "Would you be able to come and see me?" )

Muse: Gabriel Gray (Sylar)
Fandom: Heroes
Word Count: 2025

For being January, it was unnaturally warm, fog winding up from the streets as the snow that spotted them melted, shrouding the streetlights in a haze. Long, dark shadows stretched across the sidewalk, fighting a winning battle against what little light managed to get through the gloom, and the whole night was unnaturally quiet, as if the things that usually lurked in the dark were afraid to make a sound. Or like they were waiting for something.

Whatever the reason for their silence, though, Sylar knew one thing for certain. The whole scene was like something out of horror movie, stereotypical and perfect for what he had planned, and as he moved up the street towards Bennet's apartment, he couldn't help but smile to himself. He'd lied about not being able to kill Claire; he had the perfect idea as to how to end her and end her permanently now.

Pausing outside of the restaurant that Bennet kept his apartment above, he took a moment to consider the sign on the door. He'd have to get sushi later, whether or not he was covered in blood, and that in mind, he rounded the building, bounding up the steps to the apartment, nearly manic with glee. He knocked on the door and leaned against the railing behind him as he waited for Claire to answer the door, still grinning.

( This time, he wouldn't have to worry about being stabbed. )

Muse: Gabriel Gray (Sylar)
Fandom: Heroes
Word Count: 4358
Note: Based off of this picture. Samuel is

offering_hope and is all mine to use and abuse.

He'd managed to talk them into stopping in New York on their way south. It hadn't been hard really, even though they all knew going home was just as stupid as, say, storming Washington would have been, but he wasn't going to point that out. He wanted to see the fireworks in Times Square, and he was convinced that, as close to Godhood as he was, he could take anything that came their way. If anything came, though he severely doubted it would, that idea just as foolish as their being here in the first place, what with all the civilians down on the Square and the things he could do to them if provoked.

Smiling at the idea, he stepped out onto the balcony of the room they were renting and looked down out over the crowd. Peter was down there somewhere, inconspicuous in the swarm and probably wearing someone else's face, and briefly, he considering joining him. He'd gotten as far as shooting a glance over his shoulder to watch his twin meander out of the bathroom, the both of them feeling a bit like Agent Smith, and the thought evaporated just like that. Claire had come into the room, and his attentions -- their attentions -- were fixed on her, now.

The pair of them stared at her for a long moment, one from the bathroom door, the other from his place by the window and over his shoulder, and then the killer was pushing away from the balcony. He moved into the room, the door behind him sliding closed on its own, and offered her a mute, wolfish grin. His twin stayed in the doorway to the bathroom, both of them half hoping that Claire hadn't seen him.

It really hadn't taken much to convince Claire of the idea that they should stop in New York in their way south. She knew it was dangerous, but she couldn't resist the urge of being somewhere they had been before, something familiar to them all though it would be even more so for the boys. Plus they could blend in, and with the two of them, she was protected.

Perhaps it was because she was on her own sort of high after the holidays and pulling off what they had managed to achieve at the Carnival, or maybe it was just because she wanted to see the fireworks in Time Square, but either way she could barely sit still. It had been that way for the last few days. She still had to be somewhat safe though, and she almost envied Peter for the fact that he got to be down in the crowd but then she reminded herself that she wouldn't have to deal with being pushed around. Or Sylar potentially getting pissed off and hurting someone for pushing her.

Walking back into the room carrying a bucket of ice, she closed the door and walked over to place it on the table. She could feel Sylar's eyes on her but she was unaware of his 'twin' standing in the bathroom doorway. Looking up in time to catch the wolfish grin, she arched a brow at him before smirking a bit. "What?"

( He popped one shoulder in a shrug, heading further into the room; his twin took a half-step back into the bathroom, just in case she looked that way. )

Muse: Gabriel Gray (Sylar)
Fandom: Heroes
Word Count: 4586

He wasn't sure where the flower had come from, the only living thing in the woods beyond the half-grown Evergreen trees they had come for, but he had the sneaking suspicion that Samuel had something to do with it. He couldn't say how exactly, aware of what the barker could do and knowing keeping something so fragile alive didn't exactly fall under terrakinesis, but how else could it have survived? The ground was frozen, a thin layer of frost blanketing what remained of the grass and the trees, and yet there it was, bright red petals reaching up towards the dark sky like a woman in prayer.

Regardless of the hows and whys, though, he moved over to it mutely, shooting a glance over his shoulder. Claire hadn't noticed it or him, too busy trying to find a tree that would work for them, for Christmas, and he smiled slyly, turning back to the flower with a plan in mind.

He murmured an apology to the flower -- silly, maybe, but he felt like a vandal, somehow -- and pulled it out of the ground. He looked down at it in his hands, thumb brushing lightly over the petals and mindful of the thorns, pushing dirt away, and then he was tucking it carefully into the flannel folds of his overshirt. He patted the space where it rested over his heart, making sure it wouldn't fall out while he walked, and turned back to Claire.

"Find anything?"

"Yeah," she called back, pointing to a tiny tree that would, hopefully, fit somewhere in the trailer. "What do you think of this one?"

"It's good," he said, moving to join her. And after a moment of the two of them studying it in silence, he knelt down next to it, pulling it free of the ground with grunt.

( She nibbled at her lower lip briefly. "I guess we should have brought a shovel, huh?" )

Muse: Gabriel Gray (Sylar)
Fandom: Heroes
Word Count: 831
Note: Claire is

its_notluck and is used with love and permission. ♥

Claire didn’t want to be there when they brought Sylar out; she wasn’t sure that was something she wanted to see because she didn’t want to be there when Nathan faded away and became nothing more than a memory. Still, Edgar had convinced her that she should be there. It took a bit of cajoling but he managed to convince her to meet with Samuel.

So, wearing Nathan’s jacket over her clothes, she went in search of Samuel with an Edgar shadow lingering behind her. Finding the man near the House of Mirrors, she wet her lips with a nervous flick of her tongue as she got closer to him. “Hi,” she murmured, glancing back at the knife thrower before looking at Samuel once more. “You wanted me?”

"I did," Samuel answered, nodding. "It's time to wake him up -- Lydia's bringing him along now -- and I thought a familiar face might help. No matter what the circumstances."

"You know he might not be really happy to see me, right?" She arched a brow at him, wrapping her arms around herself as she glanced around to see if Lydia and 'Nathan' were approaching.

( "That's why we're doing this here." )

Muse: Gabriel Gray (Sylar)
Fandom: Heroes
Word Count: 3350
Note: Samuel is

offering_hope and is all mine to use and abuse. Edgar is

right_handman and is used with love and permission. The use of Lydia is not directed at any specific muse.

Samuel had made her promise that she would stay for one night and one night only. Soon, he promised, soon he would bring her home and she would be able to stay. She didn’t know what to make of that promise or what would happen afterward. She wasn’t sure if it made her feel better or if it only scared her a little more than the fear she was feeling at the moment.

He didn’t know exactly how they were going to bring Sylar out, or so he said. She was sure he had some kind of plan, he didn’t seem to be the type to ever be without one, but she had a feeling it was more that she wasn’t supposed to know yet. He was worried about her dad, she could tell and that’s why he was sending her home to her dorm with the promise Edgar would get her soon.

When she got back, she was relieved to find Gretchen gone but of course there was a little note on her pillow asking where she had been all night. Crumpling the paper into a tight ball, she tossed it into the garbage before dropping onto her bed with a sigh. She hadn’t slept at all, it had been impossible in a bed that wasn’t her own. Groaning as she rubbed her hands over her face, she tried not to worry about what was coming next or about how she was going to lie to her dad when he came to get her for lunch. Maybe she should carry a taser just in case he had the Haitian with him.

Or maybe she'd need the taser more immediately, knowing what she did now, as just a second later the door was creaking in protest as Nathan pushed it open. He didn't bother to knock -- hadn't really thought about it, only half with the rest of the world at the moment. He just let himself in, closed the door behind him, and leaned back against it, starting at her blankly, frowning though distractedly so.

( Claire heard the door open and she sighed, thinking it was Gretchen but when a bunch of questions weren't being thrown at her, she lifted her head sharply. )

Muse: Gabriel Gray (Sylar)
Fandom: Heroes
Word Count: 2392

“You don’t think we’re a bit old to be going to a carnival?” It was a simple question, maybe a touch hypothetical, tossed at her biological father in a rather flippant manner as she walked along beside him. Tilting her head, Claire studied Nathan Petrelli with an assessing gaze as the sounds of bells, laughter and other cheerful noises continued to dance around them.

She would have never guessed he’d come to these things willingly but it had actually been him who suggested checking out the carnival near her university. She had thought about telling him no but it was rare that he would actually offer to spend time with her and so she took it because she didn’t know when the offer would come again.

Taking another bite of her corn dog, she waited for his answer.

"Ma seemed to think the same thing," he replied, casting a glance over his shoulder to watch as not the first group of teenagers they'd seen that night meandered by, talking and laughing loudly. He couldn't say he didn't feel old, given the fact that this place seemed to be overrun by people younger than his daughter, but well. "I don't know -- I thought it would be fun."

( That and when he'd seen the poster, he'd almost felt compelled to come. )

Muse: Gabriel Gray (Sylar)
Fandom: Heroes
Word Count: 2818
Note: The use of Lydia is not aimed at any specific journal. This is also a companion piece to this fic, going through what happened to Nathan!Sylar while he and Claire were separated -- that's why the beginnings are the same. Based on this picture.

Claire wasn’t sure how much time had passed since Matt Parkman had left her mind and took the picturesque park with him to leave her in darkness. It could have been days or it could have been just mere minutes. Either way she knew she was in trouble. She had no way of knowing how close Sylar was to finding her or if he would even beat her father there.

She had no doubt Noah Bennet was on his way and he most likely had a little army in tow. He wouldn’t see forcing her home as a bad thing. That was if she made it out of this whole mess; the mess being the fact that she was dying without the use of her ability to save her.

There she was, trapped in the hospital bed that was meant to aid in saving her life, surrounded by machines that were supposed to keep her alive. She was familiar with the steady whoosh of air coming from the machine feeding her oxygen, the constant dripping coming from her IV that was feeding her and keeping her hydrated but she was worried about the other machine she could barely hear. It was there, weak and steady; the monitor that kept track of her blood pressure and her heart rate, both of which seemed low. Or at least she was going to assume her blood pressure was low considering how slow her heart sounded even to her own ears.

She just wished she had the energy to open her eyes but she didn’t. She was fading fast and she knew it.

The door opened a moment later, loud over the hum of the machines, and two nurses let themselves into the room. One moved over to the heart rate monitor without pausing, reaching up to push a few strands of her curly hair out of the way before planting her hands on either side of the machine as she looked it over. The other simply closed the door behind them, leaning her petite frame against the door as it shut, arms folding under her breast as she watched the other nurse.

Maybe this was some kind of training session.

"I think we got here just in time," the nurse at the monitors murmured, casting a glance over her shoulder at her companion, "but I think Matt was right. She's sick, and she's not going to get any better."

"Lucky thing we can fix that, isn't it?"

( Maybe not. )

Muse: Gabriel Gray (Sylar)
Fandom: Heroes
Word Count: 5004
Note: The use of Noah Bennet is not directed at any specific journal.

Something has raised your ire and you're not about to keep quiet, so, grab a RP partner and do something about it.

Despite their conversation earlier about how things would get fixed -- how he and Claire would find a way to fix it -- he found he still couldn't shake off his mood. It lingered in his shoulders, in the steel of his jaw, and in spite of all the deep breathing he'd tried to fix it. The anger was so deep seated, in fact, that he wasn't even sure killing something would help, and that coming from him? Well, he was sure it heralded the end of days, somehow.

Frustrated, he collapsed on the bed of their small room, staring venomously at the blank television screen as if it was somehow at fault, and then he shifted, reaching for the remote. He flicked the TV on, surfed through a few channels without anything catching his eye -- then again, they could have been showing a special news bulletin announcing that Nathan Petrelli's head was hanging from the Washington Monument and he wouldn't have cared -- and then he turned it off violently. On impulse, he threw the remote at the wall, like an eight-year-old having a temper tantrum, and then he rolled over, not even bothering to watch as it landed, instead contenting himself to staring at the ceiling and seething.

He needed to do something, he knew -- something to help them out of this mess -- but hell if he could see past his annoyance to bother with actual planning. And hell if he could put aside his pride and call Peter, as was the only idea he could manage in this state.

She wasn't fond of empty promises and yet she was worried she was making them every time she vowed they would fix things. That they would somehow get their abilities back. For a long time she had wanted to be normal but she wasn't so sure about it anymore. Sylar hated normal; he based a lot of who and what he was on the fact that he was special and different. It was what had driven him for so long.

And if she was normal, would he want her still?

It was a fear that left her feeling cold and blank even now as she walked into the small room right as he threw the remote against the wall. A flash of annoyance rushed through her and she did her best to suppress it but she didn't stop in time to stop him from getting a look as she shut the door. "You're going to complain later when you need to change channels without the remote." She replied dryly.

( "If I had my telekinesis, it wouldn't be a problem," he snapped back, eyes dropping from the ceiling to fix on her, angrily. )

Muse: Gabriel Gray (Sylar)
Fandom: Heroes
Word Count: 4544

"Trust me," he tells her, and Claire looks up at him for a long moment before she finally nods.

Flashing her a small smile that borders on deranged, he climbs onto the bed next to her and plants a hand on the bed behind him. His other hand goes to his belt, fingers fumbling with it until he can work it open, and then he's tugging on it, sliding it out of the loops at his waist. He holds it up, swinging it back and forth, the buckle like a pendulum meant to hypnotize her, and she squints at it, her vision not exactly back in full even now. The frown she's been wearing deepens as she raises her eyes a little higher to look past the belt and at him.

"We can't do this," she says with a sigh, and he wonders if the sound means she misses the sex as much as he does or if it's something else. "I still can't heal, remember?"

He makes a grab at her wrists; he might not have his telekinesis, but he's still stronger than her. She struggles a little, despite the admission of trust from a moment earlier, but it doesn't stop him from hooking the end of the belt around one wrist, securing it tightly. Nor does it stop him from repeating the process on her other wrist. Or hooking what little slack there is between her wrists around one of the bed posts.

( "What the hell are you doing?" she demands through clenched teeth. "You're going to hurt -- " )

Muse: Gabriel Gray (Sylar)
Fandom: Heroes
Word Count: 1351
Note: Claire is

girl_ofsecrets and is used without permission but with love and respect. ♥ Porn is hard to write on the beach.

Claire had fallen asleep nearly a half an hour ago, still sniffling into his shoulder, but he he hadn't dared to move. Strange, considering that she'd dozed off curled up around him on more than one occasion, and he hadn't thought twice about getting up and carrying her to the bed--nor had he ever woken her in doing so--but still true, something he couldn't name keeping him cold on the tile. Maybe it was the circumstances under which she'd slipped into sleep; maybe it was his own lingering unease. He couldn't quite say for certain, but whatever it was, it was enough to make him give up any illusions of carrying her off to bed, instead shifting ever so slightly to put his back to the wall, trying to get comfortable.

Looking down at her once he had, her thin frame snuggled up against his chest, he fought back the urge to sigh, afraid of waking her, and contented himself to studying her, instead. She looked tired, wholly drained, even in her sleep, and he pulled a hand away from her waist to trace just the tips of his fingers over her cheek. Without ever waking, she recoiled a bit, and he took his hand away, frowning at her hard, suddenly sure he'd lost whatever freebie points he'd gained in helping Peter, if not her trust entirely. All because he couldn't control himself; because she'd pushed his fucking buttons.

His frown turned to a sneer, though it wasn't quite directed at her, and he wondered where the hell he'd gone so wrong. A year ago--six months ago--he'd had a handle on himself and his urges. The mindjob the Petrellis had done on him, while unfortunate, had taught him to keep himself in check. Barring Luke, who had touched what wasn't his to lay a hand on, he hadn't killed anyone since Primatech had burned. He'd been better. It hadn't even been a struggle to maintain his handle on himself--it just was. And then what? What had changed? What had reawoken the uncontrollable addiction?

He took a deep breath, trying to fight it back, the mere thought of his hunger enough to reignite need in his blood, and then he was letting the breath he'd taken out a sigh. As he'd feared, Claire shifted a bit in his arms but she didn't stir, and he froze for an instant as he waited for her to resettle before shaking his head. This whole situation was a joke, a wreck, a source of constant confusion and frustration, and he was beginning to wonder why he stayed. Why he'd been the one to start it in the first place, when he'd kidnapped her on a whim.

He should never have changed the rules of their game, the both of them caught now without means of escape. He should never have touched her tonight, despite the rage and need that had coiled itself around his heart, chokingly. Yet he couldn't stop--wouldn't--no matter what it cost them. He loved her too damn much. And here, with her asleep and him doubting himself, was the only place where he could find the strength to apologize for not wanting to stop and for hurting her in earnest, tonight.

"I'm sorry."

Then he was dropping his head back to the wall, counting the tiles in the ceiling long into the night.

Muse: Gabriel Gray (Sylar)
Fandom: Heroes
Word Count: 562
Note: Companion piece to this. Sleeping!Claire has been borrowed without permission, but with love and respect.

Sylar can't help the feeling of deja vu that sweeps over him as he moves out to the lake. It was night last time, true, but he and Claire have done this dance before, her wading in near the exact same spot she had been last time, him hovering at the water's edge. He's not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing--it could be a do-over for the other night, it could be a repeat of past performances--but it doesn't stop him from going through the same motions as last time.

He toes off his boots, moving them away from the water with an idle gesture, his other hand going to the buttons of his shirt. Deftly, he undoes them, shrugging out of his shirt to drape it over a low hanging tree branch a few feet away. His pants follow suit, and he's left standing in his boxers at the water's edge, staring out at it dubiously, knowing just how cold it will be. Like last time, though, he doesn't let it stop him, and with a deep breath, he slips into the water, fighting the urge to shiver. At least the sun has lent some warmth to the lake, this time.

In surprising silence, he moves over to where she's treading water and wraps his arms around her from behind. She starts a bit, tensing, and then she's relaxing back into him slowly, her shoulders pressing into his chest. They float there in silence for what seems like forever, both fixated on the shimmer of the water as it catches the sun and dances around them, and then she's tilting her head back so she can stare up at his chin. He lowers his head, looking down at her, trying to keep his expression unreadable.

"You're not gonna get all weird this time, are you?" she asks, after another moment of silence.

He shakes his head. He's not sure what his problem was, last time--that should have been his moment of triumph, given that she picked him over Peter--but he doesn't want to go there again. He doesn't want another half-fight or whatever the hell he should be calling the other night; he doesn't want to spend the night awake and alone without her, brooding. Funny how dependent he's gotten, how the admission of three little words have all but shaken up everything he is, but he doesn't comment on it. He doesn't comment on much, actually, content to watch her mutely, instead.

Claire quirks a little smile, like she was expecting that, and then she's nodding, more for her own benefit than his own. She turns in his arms, looking up at him, and then, "Good."

A soft noise by way of agreement, and he's reaching up to press his fingers to her mouth lightly, tracing the curve of her lips. She shivers a bit, and he can't help but crack a small, pleased smile before dropping his hand away, leaning down to kiss her in the wake of touch. She returns it, almost tenderly--funny how they can have that, too, given who they are and in spite of what she told Peter--and then he's pushing her back towards the rock at water's edge.

Her clothes are still there, and they're either going to get damp or dirty, depending on whether or not they stay on the rock with them, but he doesn't care. Neither does she, judging by the way her fingers curl against his shoulder, dragging him up onto it along with her as they reach it. She pulls away, once they're situated, looking up at him coyly, and he grins a bit, threading his fingers through her wet hair, slipping through it to rest on her chest, over her heart and dangerously close to sensitive skin.

Arching up into his hand, she moans as he lets his touch wonder down over her breast, and he lowers his head to catch the sound, mouth pressed to hers again. And as they stretch out on the rock, his fingers skating over water-slicked skin to press against her hip, he can't help but think this is a do-over. They didn't get as far as this the other night, after all, and even if they had, he wouldn't have been as gentle as he is now.

Muse: Gabriel Gray (Sylar)
Fandom: Heroes
Word Count: 720
Note: Claire is

girl_ofsecrets and is used with permission. Yes, I copped out on the smut, but you can deal with it. :P

Claire had decided along the way somewhere that she liked the Jeep that she had chosen as she could fold down the back seat to make a sort of bed that she could lay on. Sylar would have to curl up just a bit to fit but it worked better than sleeping on the back seat. Not as comfortable as a hotel bed or any other bed but it worked for being on the run.

She wasn't sure what time it was, she figured it was late as the night was an inky onyx color, broken by tiny pinpricks of light that she could see through the tinted glass of the vehicle. She wasn't sure where they were either but she figured close to the border which was a comforting thought as well. Comfort would be nice as she had been feeling weird ... maybe from constantly looking at a female in the front seat or maybe it was because things felt different. She was no longer on the run because she had to be; she had chosen it.

Sylar, still wearing the female body they'd decided on, shot a glance back at her through the rear view mirror. Claire had been asleep for the better part of the afternoon, and considering the fact that she knew the other girl hadn't slept most of the time she'd been unconscious, she didn't blame her. In fact, it was almost a shock that she was awake now, and the killer spent a moment in silence, wondering whether she'd doze back off before bothering to speak up.

"It's late," she started, casually, as if she'd somehow read Claire's mind.

Perhaps it was the long drive doing it to her or maybe it was just pure exhaustion finally catching up to her from staying awake for days while plotting to get Sylar back. He had saved her the effort, he had made it back himself all on his own but it still had taken a toll on her. Laying there on her side, she glanced up at him -- her --and nodded a little at the comment.

( "You should sleep if you're tired, there should be a place to pull over." )

Muse: Gabriel Gray (Sylar)
Fandom: Heroes
Word Count 7312