Sylar

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 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

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

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.

The Company had stopped keeping him caged months ago. It had been Angela's decision, motivated by the fact that he'd demonstrated on more than one occasion now that he could behave like a rational human being, and he relished the freedom. He couldn't quite come and go as he pleased just yet, and his mother demanded that he live at Hartsdale as well as work there, but it was a start. He was making progress.

Not that he had much time to think about it. Angela kept him as busy as she could without either of them feeling like she was running him ragged. And that perhaps explained why, only hours after coming back from an assignment with Bennet, word came through to him that she needed him in her office again. He didn't need to sleep just yet, even though this would be the third assignment in as many days, and they both knew it.

Sighing, he didn't bother putting on his suit coat or tie back on again -- she could live with him deciding it was Casual Friday -- and moved through the halls quickly and quietly, knocking on the door briefly before letting himself in. He closed the door behind him, raising his eyebrows curiously, and she shot him a thin, tired smile in response. He didn't need rest, but hell if she didn't look like she couldn't sleep for days.

"I've already spoken to Noah," she started without preamble, reaching for a copy of the Times at the corner of her desk, "but barring him, you're the only the second person I'm mentioning this to." A pause, and she was handing him the newspaper. "I take it you've seen this."

Taking it from him, he skimmed it quickly, a frown pulling at the corners of his lips. From the look of things, from what the article refused to keep quiet, Pinehearst had won -- abilities were now available to anyone, assuming they had the cash. And as someone who had prided himself for so long on being special and worked so hard to be that way, this was a slap in the face. "What -- "

She stopped him with a wave of a hand. "It doesn't matter -- what matters is the fact that I'm closing down Primatech. We're done here; you're a free man."

"Why?" he demanded, bewildered, waving the paper at her. "Do you have any idea how many problems this is going to cause? How long before it's not just Accountant Bob with an ability? How long before someone like me -- like I used to be -- gets their hands on this. This is a -- a license to print money."

"I would imagine your father has already taken that into account," she answered, sourly. "And there are far more people working for Pinehearst these days than there are us. We can't handle everything, Gabriel -- I know it and Noah knows it -- and with Claire running off to go bat for the other team, so to speak ... " She sighed, shaking her head, and reached to take the paper back from him. "How long before it's just a handful of us, wasting away in this office?"

"I'd stay," he promised her. "I wouldn't leave you."

She fixed him with a disapproving look, her expression ice. "I'm telling you to. I'm still your mother; I think I still have that authority."

"This is -- "

"Get out of my office."

He stared at her for a moment, and then he was lowering his head, shadows creeping onto his face as he stared at her from under his eyebrows. Steel wired his jaw shut, and he took a moment to stare holes through her before turning, marching from her office as surely as he'd come in. She wanted him gone? Fine, he'd leave. And on the outside, he'd find someone to kill, someone familiar -- Peter, maybe, or Elle -- in an effort to stain her hands with blood by association. She'd close the Company yes, but she'd have to reopen it if only to cage him when he became a nuisance again.

That thought alone was enough to kill any possible hopes of further redemption he had, he knew, but at this point he didn't care. And that in mind, when he hit street level, he took a moment to look around before making a beeline in the direction of the apartment Bennet had mentioned Elle was keeping these days.

She was close and more convenient than Peter. She'd be a good start.

Two days had passed since they'd discussed why the area had felt familiar, and still he was driving them in circles. Now, however, he made no bones about the fact that they weren't really making any progress, and if she asked, he'd tell her the truth--he was trying to find the rock formation that he'd thought had looked like a bird, in his younger days. Not that he'd come out and said this on his own or had actually made any progress in finding what he was looking for, but at least he was trying in both senses now.

Sighing, he cast Melissa a sideways glance, his fingers tightening on the steering wheel in frusteration, and then he was turning down a side road, dusty and unpaved, despite the fact that he was sure they'd been down it at least once before. He doubted they'd find much they hadn't seen before, but considering the fact that they'd already traveled this way, he was fairly certain that they could get back to the main highway by cutting across this road. Once they reached it, he could decide whether or not he wanted to give up the ghost.

Another quick glance at his traveling companion and--and he was slamming on the breaks so sharply it was a small miracle that they were both wearing seat belts and that they weren't going that fast. There it was. There was the damn rock and the diner, dusty and abandoned, a few feet beyond it. And without so much as waiting for her reaction to how violently he'd stopped the car, he was unbuckling his seat belt and pushing the door of the car open to head for it, only half-aware she was even still there in the first place.

Claire wasn't surprised that neither her dad nor Nathan came back to talk to her after they realized that she wasn't going to give them what they wanted. She wasn't going to give them Sylar. She wondered if they considered the reason; did they think she was just refusing because she wanted to protect the killer or if it was really because she had no idea? She wasn't really lying when she said she had no idea where he was at the time because she didn't know.

She couldn't tell what time of day it was but she was figuring night some time, her body telling her so as she curled on her side on the hard bed. The tiny pillow gave her no comfort as she tucked it under her head, staring at the bare walls as she listened to the sound of her breathing. She was waiting.

Waiting for Danko to come put the bullet in her head or for Sylar to find her; not sure which one was going to come first.

Unfortunately for Claire, however, this time when the door opened it wasn't a friendly face that greeted her. It was Nathan's Hunter who stepped into the room, silently, and closed the door behind him. He was armed, as expected, but the gun was still in its holster by his side, rather than in his hands. Clearly, he planned on interrogating his prisoner first, just as Nathan and Bennet had, but with hopefully happier results.

Like Bennet, he moved over to the wall to undo the camera feed, and like Nathan, he leaned against the wall, calmly, once he was finished. "Miss Bennet."

Claire's body stiffened when she heard the door open and the sight of the Hunter had her heart dropping into her stomach, giving a slow trip as she watched with the hope that he wasn't alone. But of course he was which wasn't a good sign for her as she pushed herself up slowly, sitting on the bed as her eyes flickered to the gun in his holster and then back to his face.

As he undid the camera feed, she wet her lips because that wasn't a good sign. He could hurt her and there would be no proof. "What do you want?" she asked, her voice soft but cold. "Come to do the job finally?" She lifted her chin in a slightly haughty manner.

"I was thinking about it." He flashed her a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "But there's something I want to show you first. Something I think you might find interesting, if nothing else."

She narrowed her eyes a little bit, a bit of worry trickling through her before she arched a brow, "What makes you think that you have anything that I'd be interested in?"

"You'd be surprised," he shot back, before pushing away from the wall. "But if you'd rather I shot you and got it over with ... " Popping his shoulders in a shrug, he reached for the gun at his waist, pulling it out and removing the safety, before leveling it at her. "... I've been waiting for this for a long time."

Her eyes flickered to the gun and then back to his face as she licked her lips once more, the only nervous action to give her away before she pushed off the bed a bit. Might as well be standing up as she faced him. "It's not like I can stop you, right? You probably like that too." She pondered leaping at him, doubting that she could really surprise him but perhaps ...

( "What do you want to show me?" )


Muse: Gabriel Gray (Sylar)
Fandom: Heroes
Word Count: 7044 (ridiculous word count is a go!)

It had been too easy getting in.

They'd seen him coming a mile away--literally, or so he thought, certain that there had been cameras on the roads that had lead here, even if he hadn't seen them--and so they'd been ready. They'd started conventional, with guns and tasers, trying to subdue him before he'd managed to even get halfway out of the car. When that hadn't worked, each death only serving to annoy him more and more, each round they fired hitting home less and less as his ire rose, they'd retreated. They'd tried tranq darts next, dosed with enough drugs to kill an elephant. Then they'd tried playing upon the weakness they'd found in his abilities--he couldn't use his electricity if they hosed him down, which they had. Then they were dead, a mass of bodies at his feet, and he was inside Nathan's stronghold. Building 26.

It didn't sound easy, and he was already sore and exhausted from all the healing he'd had to do and power he had to display, but it was easier than getting out would be, he knew. He'd find what he came here looking for, but hell if Nathan or his Hunter would let him leave with it without another fight. A better fight. They thought they were building a better mousetrap in letting him get lost in the silent halls of the Building, and he wasn't sure that they weren't right. This was a gamble and he knew it, but it was something that had to be risk because his father was here--his real father--and he would see him dead, for what he'd done to him and his mother, in his childhood.

That in mind, Sylar moved down the halls of the building silently, looking for further clues to where, exactly, his father was, here. He found what he was looking for a few minutes later--a computer in a room that had clearly been recently and hastily abandoned--and he couldn't help but think set-up again. It didn't matter, though. Nothing mattered but his father now, and still mute, he sat down at the terminal, flashing a quick, sick grin at the camera that watched him from the wall opposite where he was sitting, before setting to work.

Nothing mattered but his father, until he saw the name of an old friend, listed among the captured. Mohinder Suresh. Now there was a can of worms if he ever saw one, his opinions on the geneticist mixed.

On one hand, he couldn't help but appreciate the irony of the situation. Had they drugged Suresh, like the Indian had done to him, an age ago? Was he duct taped to a chair somewhere, a gun pressed to his head as someone threatened revenge for all the evil he'd done, while he'd been sick in body and mind in his quest for power? Could he stop the bullet, if they decided to shoot? Would he? And if he happened to stumble upon Suresh's cell, while looking for his father, would he really care if he found a corpse rather than the other man himself? He wasn't so sure.

On the other hand, however, sitting there, staring at his name on that list, he felt compelled to go and spring him from his prison. Not that he held any illusions that Suresh would do the same for him--he'd probably be helping to put him away, if he thought it would save his own skin--but he hated to see the geneticist there. He hated seeing something that could be his--Mohinder's ability, not him, not anymore--sitting just out of reach, locked up here. And beyond that, he knew what it was to be locked up and tortured, the latter of which he was sure Nathan's little team was doing in an attempt to get rid of those with abilities, and he wouldn't wish that on anyone. Not even his worst enemy. Not even Suresh.

Sylar scowled at the screen for a moment, before scrolling past Mohinder's name, viciously. A moment was spent looking up his father's cell--just down the hall from Suresh's--and then he was wheeling away from the computer, pulling himself to his feet in a fluid motion. Then, just like that, he was headed towards the cell block, throwing open the door when he reached it, his heart hammering in his chest.

This was it.

"Hello, Mohinder."

His father could wait just a little longer.