Arlington University - Arlington, Virginia

"You think this is a game? This is my life and you're supposed to help me. Or don't you care how many filets I slice your... roommate into?" Sylar took another step closer to the couch and looked down. "If you're not gonna contribute, I'll just have to take the answers from your head."

"You're gonna slice my head open again?"

"Oh, I've evolved way beyond that. My friend Lydia gave me a much more precise instrument." Sylar placed his left hand on the back of the couch for support and quickly lowered his body over hers. "She could read someone just by touching them, see in the very depth of their soul... Of course, her methods were a little hyper erotic, but…" He placed his other hand on her left cheek and leaned in. "Oh, what the hell. It is college, isn't it?"

"No! Get off me!"

Sylar smiled and did the exact opposite. He straddled her legs and sat back on his heels as he looked down at her. He was so close. So close he could almost taste it. It was right there in front of him. The answer to all his questions was within arm reach and all he had to do was lean down. But the cheerleader wasn't willing to contribute, as expected. "Don't worry," he said, gently brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "I'm not gonna hurt you."

"So I'm supposed to just let you grope me?"

"If that's what it takes to get what I want." Sylar shrugged. He seriously didn't see why it was such a big deal. "I can think of worse ways to pass the time."

"You really think you can get what you want by molesting me? What's wrong with you?"

"It's called perseverance."

Claire rolled her eyes. "It's called greed. Egocentric, self-centered, shallow, that's what you are. You only care about yourself. That connection you're looking for, you're not gonna find it. No one will ever love you. You will never have a friend. You are going to be alone for the rest of your life and do you wanna know why? It's because nobody gives a shit about you."

"Then tell me what this is." Sylar rolled up his sleeve and showed her the tattoo again. "You see that? That is your face on my arm. That didn't just happen for no reason." He leaned down until his face was just inches away from hers and narrowed his eyes. "You're supposed to have all the answers, Claire. Why don't you just give them to me?"

Claire stared back up at him and frowned. "Did you kill her?"

"Lydia?" Sylar looked down at his arm and quickly rolled down his sleeve to cover up the tattoo. He knew he should have killed that woman. After what she did to him, how she tried to use him, betrayed him, humiliated him... Impotent, that was the word she had used to describe his inability to kill. She was lucky he was kind enough to leave her behind in one piece. "Haven't you heard?" he asked, resuming stroking Claire's golden hair to keep his hands busy. "I can take abilities now without spilling a single drop of blood."

"Good for you," was Claire's response before she turned her head sideways to avoid further eye-contact.

"Oh, come on. You can't tell me that that's still bothering you. That was a long time ago and, truth be told, I kind of did you a favor."

"A favor?" she asked as she turned her head back to look at him.

Sylar dropped his arms to his side when Claire suddenly sat up, leaning on her elbows and looking very angry. He had loosened her invisible bonds on purpose, just to make things more interesting, but now he realized he might have given her a little too much freedom to move around.

"I can't feel anything!" she said with gritted teeth.

"Good. Then you won't feel this either." Sylar grabbed her wrists, placed them on either side of her head and pushed her back onto the leather sofa. He leaned down and tried to kiss her again, but he wasn't fast enough. She turned her head away, again.

"Stop it!"

He let out an angry growl and sat back. "It's just a kiss, Claire. It won't kill you."

"I'd rather be dead then be kissed by you."

"Cheeky little..." Sylar sighed. He had to give her some credit for constantly putting up a fight, for never giving up. The whole thing was taking way too long and he was getting impatient as hell, but he had always liked a challenge and this one... This one proved to be a lot more challenging then he initially thought. He didn't mind. Not at all. He was getting kind of tired of getting everything done so easily. "You really think you can stop me?" he asked as he placed one hand back on her cheek.

"I think I already did. Twice." She smirked. She actually had the nerve to smirk at him. "I think you're just too much of a coward to admit it."

"Think again." Sylar leaned down and pressed his lips against hers. For a moment he felt victorious for finally getting what he wanted. His victory didn't last long, though. It lasted about two seconds before he suddenly felt a stab of pain in the right side of his face.

He let out a yell, fell backward, and rolled off the couch with a soft thump. His hand reached for his eye automatically, because that's where the pain seemed to be coming from, but then it bumped into an object which only caused the pain to increase. There was something stuck in his right eye, some long, thin and very sharp object. And when he opened his left eye to check the damage, the only thing he could see beside his own blood, was the back end of a pencil sticking out.

She had stabbed him in the eye with a pencil.

Looking past the pencil, he saw Claire going for the door. "Shit..." He had to set his pain aside for a moment to get back to what was important. He had to focus. With a simple wave of his hand he closed the door and stopped Claire from trying to escape. He grabbed the pencil with both hands and pulled it out in one go as he walked towards the other side of the room.

Claire stood with her back against the door, looking daggers at Sylar for trapping her in the room with him. "Let me go."

Sylar approached her slowly, blinking his eye repeatedly as it began to heal, returning to its former shape. Stabbing him in the eye was a blunt move, but he admired her fierceness. It was just another trait they had in common. "Your roommate clearly isn't that important to you if you're willing to risk her life like that."

"I cannot give you what you want, so I might as well try to save the one person that's only ever been there for me, right? You know. Before it's too late."

"Nothing will happen to her as long as you do what I say." He didn't know why she had to make such a fuss about something as simple as a kiss. "Why won't you help me?"

"Why do you insist on kissing me to get your answers?"

Sylar shrugged. "It worked with Lydia." He touched Claire's forehead with his index finger, letting it rest for a second and then traced the cut he once made there. There was no scar, but he knew exactly where it would have been if it had not healed. "But you're right. I should be able to read you," he bowed his head until his forehead touched hers, "just by touching you." He then closed his eyes and waited, hoping, just hoping she wouldn't stab him again.

"So?" Claire asked after about a minute of standing in silence. "Have you got what you came for?"

Sylar opened his eyes and backed away slightly to study the cheerleader's face. "Interesting..."

"What's interesting? What are you talking about?" Claire shrugged his hands from her shoulders and tried to increase the distance between the two of them, but she was trapped between his arms. "Let me go."

Sylar ignored her. "I was right..."

"About what?"

"We are the same," he pondered quietly. And on that note he distanced himself from Claire, giving her all the space she needed to open the door and run back to her friend. It was over. He got the answer he needed. It wasn't the answer he'd been hoping for, but it was something.

"I told you," Claire went on. "I'm nothing like you. When are you going to get that through your thick head?"

Sylar decided to stop listening and turned around instead. He walked over to the couch and sat down, craving some peace and quiet to think. Looking into Claire's soul had told him quite a lot. Her face appearing on his forearm did happen for a reason, and now he finally knew what that reason was.

He needed her.

And she needed him.

And now he needed to figure out what he was going to do with that information.

His eyes were closed, but he knew Claire was still there. He felt her presence, just like he always felt it when someone was near. But Claire didn't stay much longer. After a couple of seconds Sylar heard the door open and fall shut, indicating her departure.

He didn't mind. He let her go on purpose. He needed time to think. He knew what they meant to each other now. He knew what the connection was between them. It was fear.

Fear of being alone.

Touching Claire had showed him how much her fear of ending up alone was controlling her life. It was, strangely enough, a big relief for Sylar to find out that she felt that way. He had the exact same anxieties. He didn't want to be alone either.

But he was. And so was Claire, even though she would never admit it to anyone. Sure, she still had her family, Bennet, her mother and brother, Angela, Peter, and that roommate of hers, which was obviously more than just a roommate if you asked him, but that wasn't any of his business. Fact was, they weren't going to be around forever, and that must have been constantly on her mind ever since she discovered her powers. Just like it had always been on Sylar's mind ever since he took those powers from her.

If it was up to him, they would just forget about the past, move on and try to build some sort of relationship. Not in the romantic sense of the word, because Claire wouldn't be interested even if he was the last man on earth, but if they could be friends of some sort, that would be enough for him.

If it was up to him. It wasn't up to him, though. Claire didn't want to have anything to do with him. She hated him, she hated everything about him. Her heart's desire was for him to die, preferably in the most horrible way anyone could ever imagine. How on earth was he going to change the way she felt about him? How much sacrifice would it take to fix what he had broken?

Forgiveness was the key. If Sylar somehow managed to make Claire forgive him for all the things he did to her, he could have a chance. The gesture had to be big, big enough to make up for the fact that he practically killed her, killed her family and attempted to kill others close to her. Big enough for Claire to accept the fact that it was him she had to put up with for the rest of her life.

Then, and only then, she might be able to tolerate him being near her.