Title- Whatever it takes 29
Ship/Show- Heroes, Sylar/Claire, Peter/Emma
Disclaimer- If I owned it, it would still be on.
Summary- A bit of angst for xmas.
Peter was staring in bewilderment at the lists on his desk. “What are these?”
“Lists,” Sylar said with a grin, leaning back on his chair to stare at the ceiling. “You get married in three days.”
Peter’s eyes widened. “Three days? My god, why didn’t someone tell me?”
Sylar rolled his eyes. “Like we haven’t been preparing for this for months, Peter.”
Peter grinned. “I know. I just like the drama. So,” he picked up the first list. “Tonight dinner with the family- that should be fun. Tomorrow night we have the rehearsal. Then D-day. Wedding day. The end of my bachelorhood.”
“To be honest you weren’t really doing anything with your bachelorhood.”
“And when Emma makes an honest man out of you, you then have an excuse to act whipped.”
Peter’s face lit up. “True!”
“Repeat after me,” Sylar said, “’Yes, dear,’”
“Screw you,” Peter said amiably.
“No you screw her.” Sylar shook his head. “Am I going to have to give you instructions for your wedding night?”
Peter threw a folder at his head which Sylar easily ducked before going back to staring at the ceiling.
Peter frowned at him and glanced upwards. “Do we have some sort of infestation? Or is the ceiling really that interesting?”
“I gained X-ray vision this morning and the girls upstairs have just shown me what Victoria’s secret really is.”
Peter fell off his chair. “Really?”
Sylar gave him a frankly pitying look. “No.”
“I’m amazed that you manage to function as a human being.” Sylar slipped his feet off the desk. “That level of gullibility is disturbing.”
“I bet you still believe in the tooth fairy.”
“Santa’s not real, you know.”
“Elvis is really dead.”
“He ain’t dead, he just went home.” Peter tried his best Tommy Lee Jones voice.
Sylar pressed his face against his palm. “No more Men In Black for you.”
Peter perched on the edge of his desk. “You know, x-ray vision is actually quite boring. In movies it allows you to see through girls’ skirts but stop at their underwear- surely their underwear would have to be lead lined for that to happen? If X-ray vision worked on the basis of a true x-ray when you looked at someone all you’d be able to see is their skeleton.”
Sylar stared at him. “That was almost intelligent.”
Peter preened. “Really?”
“No,” Sylar smirked. “Sucker.”
“Just for that I’m adding the Macarena to the dance list.” Peter got up. “You’ll have it in your head for days.”
“No I won’t.”
Peter waggled his eyebrows. “When I dance they call me Macarena.”
“Peter, stop it.”
“-and the boys they say that I’m Buena.”
“I have no compunction about ending you.”
Peter continued to speak, his voice getting more and more lyrical until he was actually singing. “they all want me, can’t have me. So they all come and stand beside me.”
“It worries me that you know the lyrics to this.”
Peter held one hand out and then the other and then turned them both over before touching his shoulders with the opposite hand. “A la tuhuelpa legria Macarena.”
Sylar moaned and put his hands over his ears. “I will kill you.”
“Que tuhuelce paralla legria cosabuena.”
“That’s it!” Sylar flung out his hand and Peter was knocked against the wall.
“You need serious therapy- you know that?” Sylar said as Peter doubled over laughing.
“D-dude,” he gasped, “you should have seen your face.”
Sylar shook his head in disgust. “Freak.”
They both looked up as Claire walked into the room.
“Hey, Claire,” Peter said with a beaming smile, “did you know that Sylar is afraid of the Macarena?”
But she didn’t answer- her eyes intent on Sylar. As soon as he’d seen her Sylar’s grin had faded. The look on her face was a cross between haunted and desperate and all he wanted to do was to take her into his arms and soothe away that expression.
And maybe maim whoever had put it there.
“Pete, can you give us the room?”
Peter frowned. “Claire?”
Claire swallowed, still not looking away from the dark-haired man. “Peter, I need to speak to Sylar.”
Peter looked between the two of them and nodded once. He turned and walked out of the door, hesitating only momentarily before closing it firmly behind him.
There was a tense moment of silence where all that could be heard was the sound of breathing.
“What is it?” he said hesitantly.
Claire opened and closed her mouth before taking a deep breath, her hands clenched at her sides. “Sam passed his interview.”
Sylar blinked at the non-sequitor “What?”
She swallowed hard. Her eyes damp. “He passed his interview. Flying colors. He’s ready to be one of the Company.”
Her voice sounded brittle, like she was only just holding it together and he knew that Sam’s initiation into the Company had nothing to do with why she was so upset. But she’d get to it in her own time.
“He’ll travel with a gun and a badge and collect people with abilities and keep everyone safe. He’ll be good at his job and—” tears started to trickle down her face as she searched his expression.
“Did you kill Elle?”
Sylar felt like someone had punched him in the stomach, all air flying out of his body.
“Did you kill her?”
Sylar closed his eyes. “Yes.”
“Why?” Sylar scoffed, a sort of reckless unhappiness causing him to be terser than he usually was with her. “Why not? She was manipulative and arrogant and dangerous.”
She gave a bitter laugh. “That’s exactly what dad said about you.”
“I might have known Noah was behind this.” He clenched his fists and fought the urge to scream. Why was the universe so against him being happy? All he wanted was Claire and all he got were obstacles. “What did he say?”
“You killed her.”
“I’ve killed a lot of people,” he said flippantly. “So has daddy dearest.”
“This isn’t about that,” Claire cried.
“Then what, Claire? What do you want from me? Yes, I killed her. I found out that she knew Angela and the old man weren’t my parents. She’d been lying to me to manipulate me and I was done with being everyone’s puppet. I wanted to become better and she made me backtrack to a cold-hearted killer. So I gave her what she wanted. A killer. Is that what you wanted to hear? DAMMIT!” He swore loudly and slapped his hand at the desk. A lamp smashed against the far wall, sending shards of glass to the floor.
Her lip trembled. “Do you regret it?”
He raked a hand through his hair and stared at her. He could feel that deep dark hole start to open up in his chest; the one he thought he’d filled the first time Claire smiled at him. But now it looked like all was lost- she’d never forgive him for this, never forgive him for his callousness- and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.
“Do I regret killing her?” He gathered his courage. “Do I regret that she’s dead?” He took a deep breath. “No. No I don’t. God, I wish I did. For you, Claire. I wish that I cared that the bitch is dead but I don’t.”
Claire allowed tears to trickle down her face as she stared at him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
He looked at his hands. “I want to tell you I had some sort of noble reason, Claire. But the truth is, I forgot. I forgot her.” His jaw tightened defiantly. “She wasn’t worth remembering. I killed her and I forgot, because I am a monster.”
And it was all over. Even from the grave the psychotic bitch managed to screw up his life. He closed his eyes against the pain of losing Claire.
A sob erupted from her mouth only seconds before she threw herself at him.
Sylar’s eyes flew open as he caught her in as much surprise as habit.
Claire wrapped her arms around him and sobbed into his shoulder. “I knew… I wanted… I couldn’t… oh god ... thank you.”
“Uhh… you’re welcome?” He patted her back completely bewildered and wrong-footed.
She leaned back slightly so she could see into his face. Even with blotchy red eyes and a runny nose she was still the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
“I knew,” she said again, swiping her hand over her face. “No one has ever…” she took another sobbing breath. “In my life no one has ever been straight with me. My father, my friends, even Peter- everyone lies to me. But not you- never you. You’re not a monster, Sylar. Not to me. Never to me. You always tell me the truth even when it hurts. I know- I’ve always known that I can trust you to tell me the truth, and the idea that you might have lied to me was killing me. I can’t…” she swiped at her face again, “I couldn’t take it if you ever lied to me. Not you. I need you to tell me the truth. Always. I trust you. Only you. Please, god, don’t ever lie to me.”
He reached up and cupped her cheek, smoothing away a tear with his thumb. Claire Bennet was a marvel. All she was and all she would ever be and here she was, in his arms, begging him not to lie to her.
It humbled him and he touched her tear-soaked lashes with his lips.
“I swear to you, Claire, I won’t lie to you. You can always trust me.”
She reared up onto her toes and yanked him down for a kiss. It was hot, it was desperate and not just a little damp but he didn’t care.
“I love you,” he whispered against her lips.
“One day,” she whispered back and leant up for another kiss. “I’ll say it back. I will.”
“I can wait.” He held her close and touched his lips to her hair. He could feel her tears soaking his shirt but he didn’t care.
They were okay and they he was going to do his best to make sure they stayed that way.