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Fic- Whatever it takes 22

 Title- Whatever it takes 22
Author- Faythbrady
Ship/Series- Heroes. Sylar/Claire
Rating- YA
Disclaimer- I do not own heroes, only villains :D
Summary- The aftermath

A/n-I'm posting this little part, which I know is not as long as I usually do, because It's been almost a month since I've posted and I don;t want you to think I've abandoned this fic. There just seems to be a shortage of Sylaire fics and the lack of prompting isn't helping my plot bunnies any. Having a real struggle with this right now, plus trying to do the Heroes Big Boom.

Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Chapter 22

By the time that the fire engine had arrived and gotten everyone down from the Ferris Wheel there was a considerable crowd hanging around.

Claire and Sylar were the last off the ride and were presented with free tickets from the management as compensation.

Sylar felt like giving them back and donating a million dollars to the fair in thanks. He could still taste Claire on his lips and he felt like he could single-handedly take on the universe- except for one small thing.

As they had stepped off the carriage and onto solid ground Claire had turned on her heel and stopped him, a slight look of unease on her face.

“Uh Sylar, can we keep this... development between us for now?”

His heart sank. “Why?”

She nibbled her lower lip, not noticing him staring at it in longing, before she answered. “You and me- whatever this is or is going to be- it's gonna be a big deal for a lot of people. My dad, Angela, not everyone is going to be happy and I need some time before the inquisition. Also this is Peter and Emma's time to shine. I don't want any unnecessary drama to detract. Okay?”

It took him a long moment as he weighed it up but he had to concede that she was right. If Noah found out that he had had his tongue anywhere near Claire's throat- or any other portion of her anatomy- he might find that forever was not as long as he had hoped. He may be immortal but Noah Bennet was nothing if not creative.

Added to that would be the impending catastrophe that would inevitably ensue and the sheer craziness which could potentially overshadow Pete and Emma's wedding. No, best wait until his brother was safely out of the way before stirring up that hornets nest.

He'd nodded slowly. “Okay, Claire. Just between us.”

And he had kept it that way despite wanting to shout to the high hills his elation, despite wanting to sky write that Claire Bennet kissed him, he was going to keep it quiet.

Quite how he imagined he was going to keep it from Peter he had no idea, but Claire had asked him to and, if the choice was keeping something from Peter or never kissing Claire again- well, he knew where his loyalties lay.

Hormones every time.

So he didn't get to hold her hand on the way home. Or drape an arm over her shoulder as they walked through the streets. Or kiss her good night.

She gave him a knowing glance as she walked with Tracey and Edgar back to her apartment and that was what he went to sleep on.

He woke up feeling better than he had in a long while, not as good as the day he woke with her in his arms, but close.

He stretched and couldn't help the grin that seemed perma-fixed to his face. It stayed there as he showered and dressed and shaved and cooked breakfast. By the time Peter and Emma roused, his face was actually beginning to ache from holding the smile in place and he had remind himself not to give the game away.

When he heard footsteps he quickly schooled his face into a stoic mask and hoped Peter's eagle eyes wouldn't catch his euphoria.

Peter waved good morning, idly scratching his bare chest as he reached for the coffee, bleary-eyed and half-asleep. Emma was similarly disheveled when she came out of his room, barely sparing Sylar a glance before devouring a plate of eggs and bacon. The two of them were so intent on waking up and shaking off the fuzziness of sleep that they didn't notice the manic smile that kept flashing over his face.

He could probably have dissected a brain on the table and neither would have noticed except to beg for more coffee.

Emma patted his arm as she finished her breakfast and headed to the shower. Peter chewed in silence, focusing on not falling asleep in the milk.

Sylar pouted. Okay so he had a secret and he needed to keep the secret but he at least wanted them to know that he had a secret. He wanted them to notice that he was full of the joys of spring and wanted to dance in a field of lilies.

And now he was scaring himself. Maybe he should tell Peter. It wasn't like Peter would tell Claire that he knew, right?

And it would stop him from going insane, so it was really in Claire's best interests for him to tell someone. He was doing it for her.

Sylar gnawed on his lip and opened his mouth to spill the beans when a sharp knocking came from the front door, derailing him before he could speak.

“I'll get it,” Peter said absently ignoring the fact that he was half-dressed.

Sylar sighed in relief.

Okay, that was close. He really needed to have better self-control than that. He needed to keep this to himself until Claire decided otherwise.

The thought of her had his lips turning up again.

The grinning thing had to stop, he was going to give himself away.

Or get sectioned.

Or shot.

He tried thinking of sad things but it didn't help. He was riding high and nothing, nothing, could spoil his mood-

“Hey, mom, what are you doing here?”

-except Angela Petrelli.

“Can't a mother visit her son? Now put some clothes on, dear, that isn't how you answer a door.”

Angela Petrelli took off her gloves eying Peter's apartment with the same level of disdain that she applied to everything she hadn't had a hand in. Her eyes landed on Sylar sitting at the breakfast table sipping his coffee.

“Gabriel, still leeching off Peter, I see.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Angela, if you're here who's running hell?”

“Very droll, I'm sure.” She gave him her trademark pinched smile and turned back to her son. “Peter, I thought we'd go for lunch.”

Peter blinked. “It's eight a.m.”

“Fine, early brunch. We really need to talk about your wedding. It's only a week away, Peter and you have so much to do and plan.”

“I think everything is under control, mom,” Peter rolled his eyes. “The park is booked, the reception is set. Emma and Claire have spent hours making those table favor things. RSVP's are all in. Tux rented, honeymoon booked. I really can't think of anything else- unless you need to know about napkins.” His eyes glazed slightly. “Because apparently they come in teal which I figured was an animal but is actually a kind of blue.”

“Yes, I knew that, dear.” She shrugged elegantly. “I just thought it would be nice to spend some quality time together.”

Sylar eyed her shrewdly. “She wants a favor.”

“Excuse us, Gabriel, this is a family discussion,” her eyes narrowed. “As you are not family I hardly see what it has to do with you.”

“Mom!” Peter warned, “Sylar is as good as family. So knock it off. What do you want?”

“Fine,” she dropped the sweet mother routine. “Noah tells me that you have taken in a particular young man with rather a nasty temper problem and a criminal record.”

Sylar felt his insides crawl. “Luke Campbell.”

“Yes. I hear he's down for the training program. I'm here to tell you now that this particular boy can not be rehabilitated.”

“He's almost 23,” Sylar replied, “hardly a boy. And what makes you so sure?”

Angela smirked. “I had this remarkable dream, why, it was almost prophetic.”

Sylar felt his fingers curl, his palms itching to slap the smug sarcastic look off her face. “And we all know how helpful your dreams are, don't we? What was that one about Nathan again, mom?”

She went from cool arrogance to spitting psychopath quicker than Medusa. “And who's fault is that Sylar? You murdered him!”

“As did you,” he replied icily. “There no innocents in this apartment.”

“Except for Emma.”

“Except for Emma,” Sylar conceded, darting a quick glance at Peter who was standing still, watching the match between his mother and his best friend.

“She's in the shower,” Peter continued, “and when she gets out we are going to work. So sorry, ma, no can do for brunch. And the Campbell kid... he's Sylar's project. If you have an issue with him, or if your dream told you something. You need to share it with him.”

Her lip curled. “He's a cold blooded killer and will destroy us all.”

Sylar folded his arms, narrowing his eyes at her. “Yeah?”

She stiffened. “I saw him standing over a body, his hands stained with blood. He can not be rehabilitated... any more than you can.” She spat her last words at Sylar and turned on her heel.

The whole apartment shook as she slammed the door behind her.

Sylar glared at the panel. “God, I wish someone would drop a house on her.”

Peter choked on a laugh. “Dude, that's my mom.”

“My condolences.” Sylar shook his head.

Peter sighed heavily. “She may be-”

“evil incarnate?”

“-difficult, but her dreams are usually accurate. Do you think we have a problem?”

Sylar shook his head. “She's lying.”

Peter frowned at him. “How can you tell?”

“Her lips are moving. Also inbuilt lie detector. But mostly experience.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Luke is many things but cold blooded isn't one of them. She may have seen him standing over a body but, like all things, her dreams are subject to interpretation.”

Peter rubbed a hand over his face. “It is way too early to deal with this crap. When you see Luke tell him that if he wants to destroy the world, can he do it after 11 when I'm caffeinated?”

“Sure. I was going to drop by after work, make sure he and Sam haven't destroyed each other.”

“Good.” Peter headed towards the kitchen. “If the world doesn't end I'll see you for dinner.”

--->>>------------

“No, no and once again no!” Sylar pinched the bridge of his nose.

“What?” Luke held his hands up in complete confusion and ignored the sniggers from Sam. “What did I do wrong this time?”

“Wrong?” Sylar gaped staring around at the complete destruction that was once the training room.

The wooden horse was now wooden splinters, the hurdles were piles of melted metal and the punching bag was charred plastic and, even worse, the training dummies were smoldering piles of cotton and mush.

“That,” he pointed to the flickering pile, “was supposed to be a future agent. Except now all he's good for is salting the sidewalk. You were instructed to incapacitate not incinerate!”

Luke shrugged. “Well he isn't hurting anyone anymore.”

“That isn't the point!” Sylar exploded. “Sam managed to apprehend his villain without char-boiling him!”

They both glanced over to where Sam's dummy was neatly tied up in a length of rope which was hissing and spitting at them.

“Yeah well, I'm not the golden boy,” Luke was getting annoyed. “And Sam's ability isn't a one time deal, okay, whereas my power means I'm pretty much a microwave. I melt therefore I am.” He slammed his hands on his hips.

Sylar could feel another migraine coming on... or at least he would if he could get sick.

“Killing without provocation is what got us into this mess-”

Luke rolled his eyes, “-killing is bad. If you want to be accepted by the blah blah blah. I've heard the speech, like, a million times, okay?”

“Then why do you insist in ignoring it?”

“Because it's bullsh--bogus all right? I can melt people down into atoms so why shouldn't I use the gift given in the way intended?” Luke clenched his fists and stepped up to Sylar. Sam sucked in a breath but neither of the men paid him any attention.

“Because maybe you weren't born to be a killer,” Sylar growled.

“Then what?”

“A short order cook,” Sylar yelled, “a chef, radiation detector, a fucking heater!”

“Language!” Luke smirked and Sylar raised his hands.

Luke ducked and Sylar paused in the act of raking his hands through his hair. He froze at the thought that Luke expected to be punched.

He was many things but he wasn't a bully.

“I wasn't going to hit you.”

Luke swallowed and stepped back., noticeably rattled. “Yeah I knew that.”

Sylar sighed heavily. “Just because your ability seems one dimensional doesn't mean that it is. There is always another facet to it, a natural progression or evolution of your ability. For example you'd think that telepathy just meant you could read minds right?”

“Right.”

“Wrong, with enough practice you can push thoughts into people's heads, make them believe certain things. You can select memories for them to relive or mend synapses. You could create a whole world in their head.” Sylar's eyes darkened. “Reading minds is just the start. Even regenerative powers. It starts by you being able to heal quickly, regrow limbs. Your blood as a universal healer, you could potentially hold the cure to every single disease- even those not mutated yet. Your ability can't just be melting stuff. You need to find the nuances and how to adapt them.”

Luke inclined his head, thinking that one through. “You're saying that my power can be more, right?”

“Yes!” Sylar gave him a smile. “And just because you have a power doesn't mean that you have to use it. Yes Sam wound his rope around the dummy but he didn't have to use his ability. If you rely on powers too much then what happens if they are taken away from you? I was captured by the Company and they had a drug that inhibited my abilities. I was left locked in cell with none of my powers working. You need to be able to think on your feet and draw on your smarts. And you are smart, Luke.”

Luke didn't seem to be listening any more. He had his head cocked to the side and was frowning, obviously deep in thought.

Sylar exchanged glances with Sam who was just as bemused as he was.

“Earth to Luke, come in Luke?”

Luke shook his head. “Dude, I'm thinking, okay?”

Sylar threw his hands in the air. “Whatever.” He was about to say more but was thankfully stopped by his cellphone.

“Sylar.”

“Agent Sylar, we have a situation.”

Sylar fought the urge to roll his eyes. “When don't we?”

“Noah Bennet called asking for help.”

Sylar choked. “What?”

“Special Agent Noah Bennet from the—“

“I know who he is,” Sylar interrupted, “he needs our help?”

“He requested you specifically, sir.”

“Of course he did.”

“He was sent to bag and tag a level 5 escapee who has turned back up on the radar. The special has made his way into one of the tower transmitters and is threatening to reveal the existence of specials via radio. He is a sound manipulator.”

“Oh great,” Sylar could see how that would be a problem. When Jesse escaped from Level 5 he used his sound manipulation to emit sonic waves. If anyone tried that when hooked up to the radio there was no telling what kind of problems it would cause. “Tell Bennet I'm on my way. Where is the target?”

“The Lindeman Bi-tower.”

“The one by the old Primatech factory?” Sylar allowed himself a smirk. “Seems like our special likes his irony.”

He closed his cell and turned to the two boys eying him curiously. “I've got to go. Clean this mess up and then call Peter, tell him we need a new gym.”

Comments

( 6 comments — Leave a comment )
unseelie_lady
Aug. 10th, 2011 01:39 am (UTC)
Sylar glared at the panel. “God, I wish someone would drop a house on her.”

Peter choked on a laugh. “Dude, that's my mom.”

“My condolences.” Sylar shook his head.


so hilarious. angela is just a pain. And I like how Sylar explained power evolution.
ccmom
Aug. 11th, 2011 03:32 am (UTC)
*contented sigh* Thanks for feeding the addiction. I adore this story.

As a side note, this is the only story in this fandom that I am currently following, or have read for that matter. Hm...new fandom?
faythbrady
Aug. 12th, 2011 07:32 pm (UTC)
same here, I'm gently drifting towards Draco/Hermione. But I don;t watch much tv now so don;t know what shows are good enough to watch or write for.
I always come late to the party :(
also, bring back Merlin and squinty-Morgana
revdorothyl
Aug. 12th, 2011 01:27 am (UTC)
Sylar trying to suppress a manic grin of happiness, because he's got to keep it a secret (while he really, really wants people to at least KNOW he's keeping a secret) is just so adorable! And I always enjoy Sylar standing up to Angela with much more wit and almost as much meanness as what she turns on him, Peter, and everyone else at the drop of a hat.
means2bhuman
Sep. 7th, 2011 06:19 am (UTC)
It took him a long moment as he weighed it up but he had to concede that she was right. If Noah found out that he had had his tongue anywhere near Claire's throat- or any other portion of her anatomy- he might find that forever was not as long as he had hoped. He may be immortal but Noah Bennet was nothing if not creative. -- I liked that, 'not as long as he'd hoped'. Suddenly he's actually got something to look forward to. Leave it to Noah to find a way to make 'forever' reeeeeal short.

Quite how he imagined he was going to keep it from Peter he had no idea, but Claire had asked him to and, if the choice was keeping something from Peter or never kissing Claire again- well, he knew where his loyalties lay. Hormones every time. -- Ha ha! I love it. (Ho's before bros methinks?) I like how Sylar has his priorities...interestingly numbered there. It's cute. And how he has it planned out ahead of time, too. 'Look, Peter, I know you're getting married and all and that you're like my brother and savior, but...it's Claire we're talking about here!'

He could probably have dissected a brain on the table and neither would have noticed except to beg for more coffee. -- *snort* I would love to see a zoned/sleepy Peter's eyes bug out at THAT! And Emma saying something like 'Oh...I don't think that's hygenic...' (her being a semi-doctor).

And it would stop him from going insane, so it was really in Claire's best interests for him to tell someone. He was doing it for her. -- Anyway you need to rationalize it, Sy. Don't think your pseudo-GF will see it the same way...

Angela Petrelli took off her gloves eying Peter's apartment with the same level of disdain that she applied to everything she hadn't had a hand in.-- Oh! I love Angela. She's like Nathan. I always think I hate them until they do something like that: evil, screwy, smart-alleck-y, smarmy...Then I remember that I actually do love (to hate) them. She kinda does do that, though, huh? Interesting observation. Just extra points for you all around that you wrote Angela in there. Any dialogue between her and Peter and Sylar is just gonna be killer (no puns).

He raised an eyebrow. “Angela, if you're here who's running hell?”-- Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh...talk about a 'burn'!!! That was gold right there.

means2bhuman
Sep. 7th, 2011 06:20 am (UTC)
"I really can't think of anything else- unless you need to know about napkins.” His eyes glazed slightly. “Because apparently they come in teal which I figured was an animal but is actually a kind of blue.”-- Poor Peter. You really nailed Angela here. She would literally pop in out of the blue, snit about Peter's things, demand he drop everything for an ill-timed, mislabeled meal for some BS reason... So canon and I love it.

Two things I noticed: Sylar, Peter/Emma all sleep in the same apartment? Isn't that....awkward for Sy? Or Pemma?
And Luke is 23? Wow, he...does not act like it. How fitting.

Peter choked on a laugh. “Dude, that's my mom.” “My condolences.” Sylar shook his head. -- And really, Peter needs it for so many reasons. His pain and issues are so easily overlooked because he's the hero. I was telling my RP buddy - it's actually hard to empathize with Peter, but easy with Sylar (you'd think it would be the opposite especially when they have, basically, the same set of pain/issues). Moving on.

I love "I melt, therefore I am" and Luke being Mister Tough-Guy until it comes to the swear words (where Sy has laid down His Law) then he changes tracks real quick. It's cute, IC, and funny.


Please tell me Noah has found something out and is laying a trap. Please, please, please! A smack down with Noah would just kick butt.
(Also, did I say this before? I meant to. If you're struggling, I have a cute/awkward/semi-romantic/bonding thing for plot; Two words - Sylar's birthday. Shh! I didn't say that, I was never here!)

Very sorry that took me so long to comment. I have to wait til the mood strikes me to leave the expected length of comment like I like to for, well, stuff I want to read more of. Again, hope RL un-sucks itself and that your brother heals up :)

( 6 comments — Leave a comment )