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Fic- Whatever it takes 14

Title- Whatever it takes 14/?
Author- Faythbrady
Show/Ship- Heroes, Sylar/Claire, Peter/Emma
Warning- Swearing be here. PG-13
Disclaimer- I have magic powers. You will believe I own it all.
Summary- The culmination of the question.
A/N- Got bored and decided to post the next part- I hope that's okay? Not quite so evil, huh? Plus Sylar in a tux!


Chapter

“Are you really sorry?”

Sylar opened his mouth to say that Yes, of course he was sorry. Yes of course he regretted taking so much from her and, of course, he regretted making her life a misery... but the words stuck in his throat.

Was he sorry?

Truly sorry?

Nathan and Meredith had both been dangerous to Claire. Meredith was unstable and willing only to look after number one, despite what she told Claire, and Nathan was a self-serving hot-headed jerk without the common sense the good lord gave a piece of navel lint. He'd left her and her mother, kidnapped her, abandoned her, rounded her up, made her a target and nearly killed her all in the name of keeping her safe. She had been better off without the egotistical prick and the only thing Sylar was sorry about was that it had caused her so much pain.

He was unwilling to admit that he had no idea who Jackie was and probably wouldn't care even if he did. Just another face in a long line of people he murdered.

Did he regret stalking her? No, it allowed him to learn more about her, it allowed him to be a part of her life and get close to her and have her open up to him- even if he was wearing another body at the time. Did he regret taking her ability?

“No.” he said softly. “I'm not sorry.”

Claire tensed. “Yeah, I didn't think so.”

“I thought I was,” he continued slowly, leaning his head against the frame as he stared at her back. “I want to be. I want to regret that I hurt you and that part I do. I wish there was some other way that I could have taken your ability-” like the way he had taken Lydia's, for example “-but I'm not sorry I have it. And in three hundred years times, Claire, I'm hoping that you'll be glad I have it too. I wanted your ability as the perfect cure to all ills. Impervious, unbreakable, immortal. I wanted to take what I wanted without getting hurt. The most powerful man on the planet.”

“You were an immortal President,” Claire pushed the words through her clenched teeth, “I think you succeeded.”

His eyes ran over her. “Not even close. Claire, I took your ability for the wrong reasons then, I know that now. But if I had never met you until now. If this was our first meeting, I'd still take your power.”

Tears welled in her eyes as she gripped the back of the chair. “Why?”

“So you wouldn't have to be alone for eternity.” He breathed. “No one deserves that, least of all you. Even if you hate me for the rest of forever, I'll be here if you need me.”

Claire whispered something that he didn't hear and he stepped away from the door frame and closer to the table.

She still stood with her back to him and he wished she would turn around so that he could see her face. He wanted to know what she was thinking and Claire was nothing if not an open book.

“Claire?”

Something fell and splashed on the table. Something small and wet.

His heart sank. “Oh, god, Claire, please don't cry.”

She shook her head, more tears dripping onto Peter's papers.

“I don't hate you,” she whispered again. “I wish I could. You took so much from me. I want to hate you so bad. I want to see Meredith's killer, but when I look at you I see Peter's brother. I want to see Nathan's murderer but I see Emma's champion and Hiro's best bud and Matt's beer buddy. I want to feel that burning anger when I look at you but all I see is the guy who made me laugh and who rescued my damn purse and I-” her voice caught “-do you remember the Stanton Hotel?”

He swallowed tightly and nodded, before remembering that she couldn't see. “Yes.”

“I told you that I wanted to kill you, that I would spend the rest of my life trying to kill you. Then you killed Nathan. It hasn't even been ten years and ... I'm betraying their memories every time I look at you and don't want to kill you. I don't want you dead, Sylar. I don't want you dead.” She finally turned to him, her eyes red.

“What does that say about me?”

He couldn't help it, anymore than he could help breathing. His hand reached out and cupped her cheek, his fingers trailing over the tears that trekked down her face.

“I think it says that you are so amazing that you could even think of forgiving your parents murderer. You are so strong, Claire. So full of light and life. Please don't cry.” His own voice thick.

He wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry along with her.

He had thought that they were building bridges, he had thought that he was making progress with her only to have those thoughts derailed as she flinched away from being alone with him.

When he had heard her heart pounding with fear he wondered if his heart had actually broken.

He'd wanted to cry, wanted to stamp his feet and grab her shoulders, to shake her and remind her of what he had done, what he could do for her.

You called me your hero. I was your hero. Please, god, don't take that back. I couldn't stand it if you took that back.

But then she'd stood her ground, she opened up and those shattered shards at his feet melted. She didn't hate him, she didn't want him dead. She didn't mind that he was going to be around with her for the rest of her life and beyond.

She saw him as more than just a murderer. She saw him.

She had been willing to give him another chance and that was worth more to him than even his own life.

“I won't let you down,” he vowed, “I promise, Claire. I'll make it worth it. I will spend eternity making it up to you. I'll earn your forgiveness a hundred times over. If you just—” he grabbed her hands. “I'll be whatever you need.”

>
Claire felt herself falling, vertigo swamping her even as she stood on firm ground. She knew what he was really asking and, for once, it was within reach. He wanted forgiveness, a chance to be a better man; for her to believe that he was a better man.

But the memories of his fingers in her brain, the menace as he told her to chose between daddy and granny, the way he'd smiled as Jackie screamed, were just as real to her as his hands on hers.

She pulled her hands away. “Can you be a handkerchief cuz I'm kind of gross up here.” she pointed to her tear-stained face.

He watched her closely for a moment and then nodded, stepping back quickly and shoving his hands in his pockets again. With two strides he reached for the box of tissues on the mantlepiece and handed them back to her, his eyes falling away from hers as if too ashamed to meet them.

Claire couldn't help but feel for him. She knew he was trying, she had seen it time and again and all he asked for was a chance to prove it to her. All he wanted was for her forgiveness, her acceptance.

Was she brave enough to give him that?

“Sylar,” she touched his hand. “I know you're trying. I know that you're a different person on the inside. But you have the same face as my nightmares. The same face as the guy who tormented me and ripped open my head and killed people I love and scared me. Sometimes I look at you and see the monster and other times just the man. The hero and the villain. I'm trying to put it past me but it will take time. It might take a while to reconcile the two but I wouldn't give up. I'm working on it.”

The hurt expression faded as he watched her and she could see the tension bleed from his shoulders as he acknowledged her words.

“I could change my face,” he offered hesitantly.

Claire's eyes widened. “God no. This one is way too cute to change. It's just a shame it belonged to a serial killer before it belonged to you, that's all.”

His lips twitched as the tension melted from the room. “You think I'm cute?”

“Shut up,” Claire rolled her eyes and pushed away from the table.

“Claire thinks I'm cu-ute!” he sang and she grinned.

“And a goofball. Now I have to get started and earn my paycheck.” She glanced over the desk. “Peter is such a slob.”

“I know. When we were stuck,” he tapped his head, “he had the whole city and yet somehow managed to make it look more untidy just by being in it.”

She laughed. “Scruffy chic. Nice.”

She leaned over the table and started sorting through the paperwork on the desk, her forehead wrinkling as she divided them into different piles, her own system at work.

Sylar watched her for a long minute as she seemingly forgot that he was there.

“What would be most useful,” Claire said suddenly, “all paperwork on one client together including invoices and contact or those details separate for security purposes?”

“Invoices separate,” Sylar decided, “we rarely need those but contact details should really be kept with the original file.”

“Gotcha,” she shot him an absent smile as she further divided the piles.

Sylar sat on the edge of the table, propped up and intent on her.

He'd known that Claire was brave; it took a special kind of courage to stand in the face of danger and not hide until it went away. But today she had exceeded all his expectations. She hadn't hidden her fear, hadn't pretended that all was well but had told him that she was working on it.

She had given him what he had longed for for so long. Not forgiveness or acceptance. Not yet.

But hope.

Hope that one day she would look at him and just see the man.

No wonder he loved her. He only wished he could show her, tell her how much he adored her. He would be hers completely, her willing slave content to spend the rest of days devoted to her every need. She would want for nothing, she would always be happy and he would worship her.

Of course, given that half the time she saw him she remembered him stalking her and tearing off her scalp, that might freak her out a little.

This romance might have to be one sided for a little while longer.

But he would take what he was given and if that meant three hundred years of having to be content with just being in the same room then that was what he would do. Whatever it took.

He had time.

“Take a picture,” Claire said.

He cocked his head. “Can I?”

“What?” she looked up in confusion.

“Can I take your picture?”

A smile played around her lips. “Why?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “Why not.”

“Knock yourself out.”

He hurriedly filched Peter's camera from his room and snapped a few shots of her looking decidedly bemused. He put the camera down on the nearest surface to remind himself to get those printed out as soon as possible. Most men had pictures of the woman they loved in their wallet, why couldn't he? Even if Claire wasn't his wife.

He turned back in time to catch her quickly turn her suddenly flushed face away.

He blinked.

That was weird. Why would she be blushing? What could she have been staring at that made her bl--

Oh. Good. Lord.

Sylar's eyes widened as the truth hit him.

She had been looking at his ass.

Claire Bennet had been staring at his butt.

“Now can I please get back to work?” she asked, not knowing that he had seen her little slip.

He bit his lower lip. She'd already said he was cute and now she was checking him out. Maybe trying to win her love might be easier if she was … distracted. She'd told him not to give up after all, even if she hadn't been truly aware of what his goal was.

If she was attracted to him it would be easier to forgive him, to love him. It wasn't taking advantage it was … playing to his strengths.

Besides, just because he was willing to wait three hundred years didn't mean that he had to.

He was Sylar after all, not Gabriel Fricking Gray.

A plan filtered through his brain and he hid a grin.

“You know, since I know what's going on with these. I could help.”

She blinked and it was obvious that that was the last thing that she expected. “What?”

“I can help.”

“Uh okay. Sure.”

“I just have to get a little more comfortable.” He reached up and undid the buttons on his suit jacket very very slowly.

The deliberate movements had the desired affect and Claire's eyes snapped to his lean fingers as they slid the buttons out of the holes.

With a tiny grin he pushed the sides of his very fine, outrageously expensive, suit jacket aside and shrugged his shoulders. The soft material slid down his strong arms and, in one smooth move, he caught the jacket and threw it on the chair. Claire's eyes followed his fingers as they reached up and tugged at his tie, loosening it and undoing the top button of his shirt.

Watching her as she watched him was doing all sorts of hot delicious things to him and what he really wanted to do was prowl over, drag her into his arms and show her how it felt to be draped over a hard object. His eyes darkened as she moistened her lower lip.

“Claire?” his voice deepened, arousal coloring his tone.

She swallowed hard and dragged her eyes away. “Y-yeah?”

Triumph and not a little male pride swelled in him. She'd looked at him. Looked. At him, like he was a man. He might not be able to read her mind but he could read her face and that expression had declared that she had noticed that one very fine male specimen was standing in front of her in Armani and shirt sleeves.

See something you like? The words longed to trip off his lips, but he held it back. The last thing he wanted to do was put her on the defensive; not when she was waking up, when he was finally making progress with her. That didn't mean that he couldn't have a little fun.

With slow languorous movements Sylar flicked the cufflinks at his wrists and started to fold his sleeves up, exposing his tanned forearms.

Claire's mouth dropped a little and her breath shuddered. A shiver slid up her spine and she deliberately turned on her heel and faced the table.

With her back to him Sylar let loose a full blown grin.

Oh yeah, he was making progress.

>

That should be illegal, Claire thought as she tried desperately to get her hormones under control.

Watching Sylar all but strip was both panty-meltingly right and horrendously wrong. He was her uncle's roommate, an ex-serial killer and completely bat-shit crazy; all perfectly sound reasons to ignore the fact that he was, without question, one of the sexiest men she had ever seen.

Damn those women and their non-stop talk about superpowers and sex, now all she could think about was grabbing him and tracing that open collar with her tongue, seeing if that five o clock shadow left marks when it was dragged over her chest and seeing if he tasted as smoky as he looked, if electricity sparked all over.

She gripped the chair back with clawed fingers.

Sylar was out of bounds.

Completely out of bounds.

And the sooner she got that into her head the better for everyone concerned.

He was suddenly close, far too close and leaning over the table next to her, his dark eyes perusing the table.

“So this pile is financial data?”

How, in the name of all that was holy, could he make such an innocuous sentence sound erotic? She
swallowed past the lump in her dry throat.

“Yeah. It needs to be put in alphabetical order by client surname and then by date.”

“Gotcha,” he slid into the chair by her side and pulled papers towards him, his long forearms stretching across the table. They were strong and muscled without being bulky and indicated a hidden strength that was beyond sexy.

His arms, Claire. Really?

So she apparently had a thing for arms. Who knew? She shook her head and edged around the table, grabbing files as she went. She sat across the table from him and tried to immerse herself in her work.

But that was easier said than done now she was aware of the man opposite. His head was down diligently working through the stuff that he had been given, his eyes intent and his brow furrowed in concentration, thick dark locks of hair slipping down his forehead to dance across those expressive eyebrows, his long fingers rifling through-

Good grief, she really needed to get laid.

It wasn't that she had never thought of Sylar as attractive before. In fact the first time she had been hit by that particular awareness was the first time she had seen him in the daylight up close and personal.

After everything that happened that year, Claire had no illusions that Sylar was dangerous but she hadn't really seen him, not really.

In the locker room of Union Wells, Sylar had switched off the lights and so he appeared only in shadow and, to be perfectly honest, she was so busy screaming and running that she never really saw his face.

The rest of that year she had been warned about him time and time and time again but no one had thought to show her a picture of the man who was out to decapitate her (or de-cranium, what was the word for someone who wanted to slice off the top of your head? Damn it, sidetracked.) so really he could have walked by her in the street and she wouldn't have known.

It wasn't until Kirby Plaza that she saw him again and that was, again, at night and in poor lighting and from a distance and (Scalped! That was it, he'd scalped her. And skulled- actually didn't that mean something dirty?), once again, she could have mistaken him for anybody.

She'd wondered what he looked like and had to go through her father's Primatech files when he was out just so that she could have a face to put to her nightmares.

The picture was grainy and out of focus taken whilst he was covered in blood mid slice, evidently from CCTV footage and, needless to say, wasn't flattering.

That was probably why, when he showed up in her house, standing in her bedroom doorway and leaning oh so casually against the door frame, it took her moment to place him. In fact her thought process had gone a little something like:

“Who the hell is- wow, he's cute, look at those eyebrows. Why is he staring like I should know who this sexy guy standing in my- holy god, that's Sylar!”

Claire grinned to herself slightly. It was probably a good thing that he hadn't got Matt Parkman's ability then or she'd have saved him the trouble and died of embarrassment.

Then she'd been too busy running for her life to think about him like that. Even after the times he had suggested that they would be more than friends, even after the kiss that she refused to think about and the weirdness of having her face etched into... Claire frowned suddenly, her mind coming to a halt.

“Did it go away?”

Sylar blinked. “What?”

Claire pointed at his arm. “Did it fade?”

He looked down at the limb and then back up, a crease between his eyes. “I have, maybe, twenty abilities Claire, mind-reading isn't actually one of them. What are you talking about?”

She rolled her eyes. “My fa... your tattoo. Is it gone?”

>

Ah, that.

Yes. No. Sort of. Sylar gnawed on his lower lip and wondered exactly how to answer that.

Yes, technically the tattoo had gone, gone in the way that it was longer on his arm. Gone in the way that the ink had faded and the picture of her was no longer etched onto his forearm. In that sense then yes it was gone.

Gone in the way that whenever he tried to use Lydia's power Claire's face would appear over his heart. Then no. It wasn't technically gone. More... hidden.

“It's no longer on my arm,” he said slowly, stretching it out across the table to show her the soft unblemished skin.

“Right,” Claire stared at it for a long moment before shaking herself. “I didn't think it would last, I mean. We don't scar so how can we get a tattoo to stay?”

How do we make love stay?

Sylar just shrugged. “You cut your hair, your hair stays cut. You dye it it stays dyed. I guess any tattoo that wasn't put there by mystical means would stay.”

“Like nail polish and my belly button ring-” Claire's eyes widened as she realized what she had just said and Sylar's grinned.

“You have a belly button ring?”

She blushed. “Yeah, call it a little act of rebellion. I wanted a bar but my regenerative body thinks its shrapnel or something and kept pushing it out. The ring is closed so my body accepts it, like my earrings.”

“Huh.” Sylar leaned forward, his lower lip between his teeth. “Show me.”

“What?” Claire laughed uncomfortably. “No.”

“There's just you and me here, go on.”

Claire blushed harder at the low tone his voice had gathered.

“No.” Claire crossed her hands across her mid section.

And suddenly there was nothing Sylar wanted more than to see that tiny piece of metal embedded in a tiny strong body that wanted to reject it. There was something sexy about the diminutive blonde staging a rebellion but keeping it to herself, it was so very like Claire. Although, to be honest, he thought that everything Claire did was sexy.

He smirked seductively. “Oh come on, Claire. People get piercings to show that they're cool or dangerous, what's the point of a rebellion if no one sees it?”

She nibbled her lip and he could tell that she was weakening.

“Cllairre.” he whined. “Please.”

His eyes danced with humor and she felt her lips curve at his teasing.

“Fine,” she sighed and stood up, untucking her shirt from her jeans and lifting it.

Sylar stared at the long softly curved expanse of golden skin unmarred by scars, unmarred by lines or creases, untouched, soft and smooth except for one thick silver ring with a tiny charm dangling from it.

He leaned across the table and reached out a hand to touch the swinging charm. It was a tiny little top-hat. A smile curved his lips at the absurdity of it. A rebellion with a twist.

That was his girl.

He glanced up only to find her staring down at him, her eyes wide. He realized his position, relished the heat of her belly against the back of his knuckles for one more minute before dropping the charm and shuffling back into his seat.

“It's cute and not just a little hot. But a top-hat?”

Claire face flushed again. “Its a reminder.”

“Of what?”

A sudden grin flooded her face. “That we're all mad here.”

He couldn't deny that, not at all. After all he was an ex-serial killer who performed craniectomies on his victims and had spent five years trapped in his own head and now lived with the brother of a man he had killed and impersonated whilst pining for a girl he had scalped and tormented for years.

She was an indestructible ex-cheerleader with a penchant for jumping off buildings, sawing off limbs and was currently sorting financial data across from the man who had sawed her head open with his finger.

Mad?

Understatement.





Aaaaannnd because he's so pretty.
Sylar in a tux... and on a bike. should be illegal.


Comments

( 25 comments — Leave a comment )
spaceanjl
Mar. 27th, 2011 07:52 pm (UTC)
....nom. The bike look is hot, but that is such a cute goofy grin in the first pic.
faythbrady
Mar. 27th, 2011 08:53 pm (UTC)
Bike trumps goofyness ever time. I have a kind of thing for a guy on a bike. just a little thing, no big. It's not like I have this pic blown up on my wall or anything. hah. wouldn't that be crazy. ahem. what did you think of the chapter?
spaceanjl
Mar. 27th, 2011 09:04 pm (UTC)
Chapter great. I like the way they have to find a new way of considering morality, because of who and what they are. Plus, yeah, naughty Sylar is hot.
gerriv
Mar. 27th, 2011 08:23 pm (UTC)
Ah Sylar....sex on two legs, sex on a stick, sex in a tux. Sigh! Your photos are killing me here.
faythbrady
Mar. 27th, 2011 08:52 pm (UTC)
He is so... le sigh.
And what about the actual chapter? ;p
gerriv
Mar. 27th, 2011 09:15 pm (UTC)
LOL! I liked the chapter! I was with Claire, thinking about Sylar's forearms (seeing Zach in my head) that sexy son of a gun!
faythbrady
Oct. 14th, 2012 09:41 pm (UTC)
its been a while since I updated this fic and I know it but just to let you know that I am now updating again, I've just posted chapter 27 with 28 ready to go out next week. I'd love it if you could read it as I always enjoyed your reviews. And i apologize for the long wait between chapters.
thegreyhawke
Mar. 27th, 2011 08:55 pm (UTC)
Unf. That is...just the right amount of everything there. (Sylar stripping??? Hell-o). You are going to rock it when you get to something dirtier or even more intimate, i.e. blow everyone's socks off. Sylar's playing dirty himself, but I don't hear Claire crying wolf any time soon ;)
You have such awesome subtle imagery; something about it just clicks for me.
Glad Sylar said what he did about being sorry. When it comes down to it, he's sorry for hurting people, not his actions. I realized I forgot to ask about Lydia in Chapter 13; Amanda said Sylar killed her?
And where, oh, where did you find that first picture?
(P.S. your link to Sylar/Claire Comm appears broken? I found the chapter at your page).
faythbrady
Oct. 14th, 2012 09:42 pm (UTC)
I'm so sorry i haven;t updated in a while. I miss your reviews and so just so you know that I am now updating again, I've just posted chapter 27 with 28 ready to go out next week. come back to me!
(Anonymous)
Mar. 27th, 2011 11:11 pm (UTC)
Great chapter. I love the descrption of the tattoo appearing over his heart.

Will Elle's murder come up at all? It seems to me like that should be an issue for Claire, because according to canon Sylar had strong feelings for Elle, (even if he didn't love her at the time of her death).

So Claire could be thinking somthing like, "If he's capble of killing one woman he loved, what's going to stop him from one day doing the same to me?"

I think it'd bring up some good plot conflicts and show some insight into Sylar and his relashonship with Elle, at any rate.
faythbrady
Oct. 14th, 2012 09:43 pm (UTC)
your plot bunny has been assimilated... and added.
ccmom
Mar. 28th, 2011 01:16 am (UTC)
Guh! *has died*

I have decided to take up baking and I will make you a cake...em maybe I'll just send you one instead. lol

Loved this chapter. Loved the striptease. Cause really? That's what it was. I'm more of a shoulder/back girl myself, but I can appreciate nice arms and boy does he have them. Yummy!


Awesome work! Use the other arm this time to pat yourself with!!


This reply comes to you with help from my new exclamation button!!! Go excited!!!
faythbrady
Oct. 14th, 2012 09:44 pm (UTC)
its been a while since I updated this fic and I am so sorry but just to let you know that I am now updating again, I've just posted chapter 27 with 28 ready to go out next week. please come back to me i miss you! :)
(Anonymous)
Mar. 28th, 2011 01:42 am (UTC)
Another chapter - yay!!! Thanks for not leaving us hanging too long! Great chapter - loved the Mad Hatter reference! And thanks for continuing in your great tradition of making the characters act like real people; Claire has a number of issues to work through before she can truly accept Sylar. Thanks for not just glossing over that fact. Keep up the great work!
---Rella
britphile7
Mar. 28th, 2011 02:13 am (UTC)
Thanks for the two-fer! What a lovely surprise!

Loved how Sylar finally got it that Claire can actually feel weak around him! Ha! Get over it already, Claire! Please! You're killing all of us here!

Can't wait for the next installments (which are coming when, now?.....)
faythbrady
Oct. 14th, 2012 09:44 pm (UTC)
its been a long time since I updated this fic and just wanted to let you know that I've just posted chapter 27 with 28 ready to go out next week. I'd love it if you could read it and i apologize for the long wait between chapters.
(Deleted comment)
faythbrady
Oct. 14th, 2012 09:45 pm (UTC)
i'ma bad writer leaving you waiting for so long. so sorry but i have now added chapter 27 with 28 ready to roll next week. please read and let me know if its still worth it!
lostevergirl
Mar. 28th, 2011 06:20 am (UTC)
What a great chapter! You write their banter so well.

There was lots of little pieces of awesome that just added up to a really great whole.

My favorite part was when Claire thought through when she first put Sylar's name and sexy face together. Ah classic!

Also can't wait to find out how she'll react to secret heart tattoo!

Oh boy... really just loved it. *flail*
faythbrady
Oct. 14th, 2012 09:46 pm (UTC)
its been a while since I updated this fic and I know it but just to let you know that I am now updating again, I've just posted chapter 27 with 28 ready. I apologize for the long wait between chapters.
revdorothyl
Mar. 28th, 2011 04:01 pm (UTC)
"We're all mad here", indeed! Perfect!

Plus, Sylar's unbelievably cute when he's deliberately teasing Claire with his hotness, because he will wait three hundred years for her to forgive him but doesn't want to, and he's not averse to using the kind of sneaky, manipulative tricks that hot guys have been using on cute girls whom they HAVEN'T previously terrorized or scalped, since time immemorial.

Utterly grin-worthy, and pictures, too!
faythbrady
Oct. 14th, 2012 09:47 pm (UTC)
thanks to your push you reminded me that i have had the next two chapters ready to go. my brain is so damn blonde sometimes. so 27 is up and 28 ready to roll.please read and review and thanks for teh push!
revdorothyl
Oct. 14th, 2012 09:49 pm (UTC)
Yippee! Thanks so much for the good news! Going to read the new chapters now. :)
(Anonymous)
Mar. 31st, 2011 02:57 am (UTC)
Hi
Love this story, we are getting to the good stuff... sex appeal oozes out of Sylar! Duh boy use it to your advantage! HURRY UP AND UPDATE! :)
ccmom
Apr. 4th, 2011 03:52 am (UTC)
Okay. Just thought you'd like to know that I went into an unreasonable and complete panic attack for no reason except that I had this horrible idea that you had updated and I missed it! No really! I spent 10 minutes searching for this story because I (in my blind panic) couldn't remember who wrote it! Should I now mention the sleep-deprivation and the meds??


Which means that I've now become obsessed with it, (duh) and can't wait for more. Consider this my very bad attempt at cheer-leading and a bad backwards attempt at a compliment!

Nothing but love...

Michelle
faythbrady
Oct. 14th, 2012 09:48 pm (UTC)
I've just posted chapter 27 with 28 ready to go out next week. i'm so sorry it has taken me so damn long. please come back and read teh fic again- i promise i wont leave you hanging (plus wip fics are too annoying!)
( 25 comments — Leave a comment )