Randomness-Sylaire

[black_hat]

Randomness
 Random nothing that may be added to a ficcy...Sylar and Claire hanging around some poor soul's house for the moment. In which Claire considers setting the kitchen on fire. 

"Aspirin?" Claire asked sweetly, shaking the bottle by his ear. Of course, she had to stand on her tip-toes to do things but she was determined to annoy. He took the bottle, breaking several of her fingers in the process, not even bothering with a 'thank you'.

Of course, she had plundered all the cabinets in the house before he had gotten through. Seeing him in a normal place made her bolder than she should have been. He, being who he was, helped himself to a glass of water.

She supposed that he realized she had knocked out their new friend, and so there was no threat. No wonder he was so smug. He took a seat at the rather small kitchen table, and she felt a vicious thrill of joy when he almost blundered into the light fixture above him. It was a very small kitchen after all.

He wasn't responding to her at all. He looked at the pill bottle in his hand with more fascination. Not like he hadn't seen it a thousand times before in any cheap shop. Apparently after their last fight, he had either mellowed out significantly or he had the nerve to give her the silent treatment.

Claire wondered if he would notice if she decided to set the kitchen on fire. Most likely but she wasn't in the mood for dramatics or being a human torch.

Instead, she pulled out a chair for herself and settled down with her drink. More silence. This was unbelievable. He could make silence seem like a bad metal concert. So condescending.

"So. Sylar," she began, with mock casualness, seeing as they were old acquaintances.

Names change everything. Even though he was a freaky murderer before, he was now Sylar, and he was in-character now. She was locked in the car with him for weeks and weeks and he had taken advantage of her. Yet Claire was familiar with the old him who was always pissed off that she dumped the napkins from yet-another-fast-food place under the seat.

She had slept with him. Several times.

As if reading her mind, he grinned at her, in-character. She studied him, sliding her cup between her hands.

"So you fixed watches before you got into the homicidal killer business?" she needled.

Lightening when off somewhere in the dark and she jumped.

"Restored time pieces. But we all have to start somewhere."

"Hmm-mmm," she said, looking at her cup. There was the distance of the table between them, but if what he had told her earlier was true, it seemed like she was chained to him. Fate or the like. "Well. Your power forces you to kill?"

He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. "It compels me. Yes. It compels me to fix what is being…misused."

"But I've  used my powers to help people. See?" Claire pushed the old article clipping across the table reverently. She wished it didn't feel like she was handing in a report card. Sylar glanced down at the picture.

"Well, well. Where did you find this?"

"In her closet, upstairs. She has a shrine to people like us."

"In her closet," he repeated, and it looked as if he was trying not to laugh.

"Well, it wouldn’t exactly be framed in the living room."

"So she knew who you were."

"Who Jackie was," Claire said, putting a hook of an emphasis on was. "And you. There were pictures of you."

And you killed your mother, didn’t you know?

His eyes turned icy and terrible. "I see."

"She was waiting for us. Maybe. I don’t know. That’s just too much of a coincidence."

"These people worship people like us. Except she couldn’t have known me through that other name… I’m going to have to have a talk with her."

Sylar got up from the table.

"I knocked her out. She won’t be up for hours. So how about we talk about this clipping? Like I said, I did good with my powers. And supposedly I’m not worthy of it. Here, it says I saved a life."

"But you wanted the credit afterwards… that’s what that little spat was about before I interrupted you. I get it now. You gave the girl a black eye, you know. There was no love loss there."

"The man I saved, though. Have you saved anyone with your powers?"

He looked out the window, and she was starting to see that out of it expression before the storm hit. But this time it seemed the storm was on the inside.

"It’s a yes or no question."

"I did almost save the world. An entire city, at least. That’s much better than one man who was stupid enough to get trapped in a corner by a fire where there were plenty of places to run."

"Almost doesn’t cut it," she said spitefully.

"Saving one life to get another killed doesn’t cut it either. And that girl deserved what she got. But I do have a question for you. It's sparked my curiosity. I see your power and...I can't help but think that it's developed in the manner it has because you only care about pain if it's your pain. I'm talking in the emotional sense. That's why you have a such thick skin. I imagine you...seeing a fire and running into it with no thought of who was inside; you'd only care about whether it could hurt you. Initially. I won't deny you're a better girl than most, but since you were being so honest, I wanted to help."

Now it was Claire’s turn to look out the window, and the sky was horrible. She supposed she could cause him to lose his temper and the deaths of those in the storm’s way would be her fault.

"Since I’m going to die—and I’m scared. Though I know that doesn’t matter to you. But since I’m not going to live to tell anyone, can you just…relax? You don’t have to be that persona. Whatever that is."

"I’ve thought of a way to make this better."

Curious, she listened. How on earth could it possibly get better? If he made things worse and by comparision, the present was better? Hopefully not.

"I can cut your skull—just a little bit. And take that part of your brain that holds the memories. It’s not important, just a little cut, and it will grow back. And you won’t even have the idea, the instinct you’ve clung to so badly. You suspected me from the get-go. But this time, I know I could make you feel safer with a truly, clean slate."

"I’ll pass, if you don’t mind. That’s pointless. What does it change? My family will know better, I’m sure."

"Do they? I’ve seen people fall for illusions before. There’s no special marker that will identify the real Claire, if that’s what you’re thinking. Most people assume the worst. It makes it all so much more tragic. And I feel bad that-."

"Excuse me?" she asked, feeling like—if it weren’t for her healing ability—she would have gotten whiplash herself. "You feel bad? It’s a little too late for you to have a conscience."

"I’m above that. Whether I like it or not. I just want to start again. I can handle things better. I can handle you better."

Claire frowned. He wanted a do-over?

"In what way? You seem to want me to be terrified of you. Um, check. You have that."

"Yes, I have that. It’s just a shame."

"…What? Just say it."

"You have to understand that your life was meaningless before me. I can give you meaning before you die. You’re like me. You’ve been told what to do all your life, been molded by those closest to you, did all the right things, and what did you get for it? I know you were a cheerleader because that’s the best of the best in high-school, that’s the top of the food chain. Take it from me. The grass is always greener on the other side, and when you’ve been through hell for it, you’ll find the other side is made of plastic. Just…let me help you before I have to do what’s necessary."

Who was he to say that her life meant nothing? It had meant something to her, she could feel it.

"And your life’s so great? You seem so unhappy."

"I’m a god, Claire. Of course I’m unhappy."

She gaped at him.

"The world is so ugly and pointless and trivial, and from the way it’s looking, it’s my destiny to fix it. I started not to be able to stand it, and when I was given the power to do something, I did. I give something to everyone. You waited for me tonight because you want to have the possibility of death. You know that, right? You can’t kill me because I’m the only thing that makes you normal. You just can’t let me go."

"Well, then. Leave me alone, let me remember you as you really are. More of a challenge that way. Perform a miracle or something."

"You always have to get burned to get the picture. I shouldn’t have expected otherwise," he said, knowingly, and followed her gaze to where large clouds were forming.

"You’ve got a handle on that power?" After that, the last thing she needed was a tornado to sweep her off her feet.

He made some condescending sound in his throat.

"Well then, let’s lay down. All this blasphemy is making me tired."

Sylar looked shocked. He actually flinched from her choice of words.

"We finally have a bed. And you actually want to sit in a chair all night and loom and glare. Please."

With that, she took off her jacket and threw it on the chair. Or tried to. It missed and landed on her discarded cup. Ruining her jacket. He started to laugh, and she hurried to the bedroom, embarrassed.

"Was that supposed to alluring?" he called after her. Following her. And it occurred to her that she should have sat in the chair all damn night. "Missed your calling as a whore apparently."

Claire froze and turned around.

"Anyway, I’m going to go have a nice, long talk with our new friend. You’re shaking." As if he was surprised. "I’m sure this neurotic bitch has something around the house to calm you down."

"The last thing I’m going to do is let you drug me. Not to mention that I'm the least likely person in this house that needs a valium." 

He should just absorb the whole bottle. Or whatever it is that he does.

"Good thing I won’t need your permission. Come upstairs and we’ll find something to help you relax."

Upstairs. Where the gun was laying in the shoebox.

"Well, it’s not like I have a choice," she said, smiling with faux brightness and wondered if she just put the temptation there, if it would be enough. Just to see if he was a god or not.

Terri did not stir when they entered the room, even when Sylar knocked on the door, in a dramatic mockery of intimidation.

"What did you do to the woman, Claire?"

She was sure there was something twisted in the way he asked, but she shrugged. "Nothing. I just…okay, I hit her."

"With what, two-by-four?" He went over to see the damage, turning on the little light by the bedside, and of all things, Claire felt ashamed to see the bruises her fists had caused. "…Claire."

"It’s not that bad. Stop making a big deal about it."

"This is fucking ridiculous. How hard did you hit her?"

"Stop it," Claire repeated, crossing her arms. "Just shake her, or better yet-."

"She’s dead. Again."

Her heart stopped beating.

"….That’s fucked up, why would you lie about-."

"Come and have a look."

Keeping her arms crossed, she did look and the woman was indeed dead again, her eyes glazed and empty.

"I…have no idea, she must have just…was she still poisoned?"

"No," he said carefully. "Your blood should have cleansed everything from her system. Well. You do have one mean right hook."

"I did not do this."

"I haven’t been in the house for hours. As you plainly see, the blood has gathered to her side which means she’s been dead for awhile."

"I didn't."

"Let me break it down for you. Two people were in the house. One is now dead. Do the math."

Claire was silent, her ears going deaf to all…what had happened?

"One thing's for certain. I won’t be finding out anything. I’ll just have to wait to see who comes looking for her to get any answers around here. Thanks, Claire, good job."

"I don’t understand."

"Apparently, this was just her day to die." He went around her to the closest and opened it. He tilted his head in admiration and knelt to observe the complex collection of pictures.

"This is quite the fanfare," he said. "I can use this. Fascinating, how life works."

"I don’t understand!" she yelled.

"You hit her in the nose," he said impatiently, not bothering to look back at her. "Then the head where she had hit the steering wheel during your Die-Hard moment. Then you hit her again in the back of the head. And it just happened to kill her. You know…that was where I first-."

She fled from the room.

"I guess I’ll be getting that valium for you after all," he called after her. 

-BB