In spite of his reduced breathing, Peter screamed out, "No! Claire!" and found himself falling to the ground. He caught his breath and coughed, and then, in misery, looked up to where Claire had stood.

She was lying in Sylar's arms. Peter charged over to him, and, grabbing him roughly by the shoulders, threw him as far away as he could from his niece.

"Get away from her, you bastard! It's your fault she killed herself!" he cried in a broken voice.

"She's not dead," Sylar said quietly, crawling back to the prone body on the floor. "At least, not to the point that she couldn't come back."

Peter nearly cried out in relief. He gently turned Claire's head to find that the bullet hadn't gone in all the way. There was a bloody hole, but the shiny metal could still be seen.

Sylar spoke softly again. "The moment I saw her finger begin to pull the trigger, I stopped the bullet with my power," he explained. "That's why you dropped suddenly to the ground. But I couldn't stop it from penetrating her skin. I lunged and caught her in my arms, to prevent the impact with the ground from actually causing it to go in further."

It was grotesque, but to Peter, the bullet lodged part way in Claire's skull was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. He laughed through a sob. "She's going to live," he whispered.

The two men looked up when they heard noises from the other side. The patrons must have heard the gun go off and were battering the door down to get in.

Peter turned to his former enemy, now his co-conspirator. "Quick! We have to get this bullet out of her!" he said.

Sylar nodded. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the knife that Claire had tried to use to stab him, that he had actually stabbed her with. "Hold her head," he told Peter.

Working as quickly and gently as he could, Sylar grimaced as he dug deeper into the wound, creating more space around it. Then, when the bullet was loose, he deftly plucked it out with his fingers and threw it aside. Instantly the wound closed up, leaving nothing put a bloody stain on the side of Claire's head. Sylar shook his head in wonderment. Amazing.

She opened her eyes and coughed, then looked up at the two men who were, just a moment ago, trying to kill each other. They both smiled down at her. "I'm alive?" she whispered hoarsely.

Peter helped her to her feet. "You're alive," he said, and embraced her.

Just then, the doors burst open, and they were surrounded by airport security. Like a flash Sylar took his baseball cap off his head and fit it over Claire's, to hide the bloodiness of her hair.

The chief officer told them to put their hands over their heads and not to move, which, much to the surprise of Claire, Sylar did as well.

Then they heard a voice. "You may put your guns away, gentlemen. Everything is in order here." Claire knew that voice from somewhere. It was refined, yet forceful at the same time. From between the guards appeared Mr. Nakamura.

After he convinced everyone to leave, Mr. Nakamura turned back and smiled at the motley crew. "So? I guess my lesson was valuable to you, my dear Claire."

Claire felt a sudden rush of affection, and hugged Mr. Nakamura, then just as quickly remembered from her world cultures class that the Japanese didn't believe in grand displays of affection. But her fears were allayed when the older man chuckled and patted her back tenderly.

Sylar and Peter looked at each other in confusion. They still hated each other, to be sure, but they were at least united in their puzzlement.

Releasing Claire, Mr. Nakamura looked at the two young men, seeming to size them up. "Well. I know you have had an exhausting night, gentlemen, but we still have much to work out. If you'll both please come with me—and you too, of course my dear—I'll make sure you're comfortable and taken care of." Then, without any acknowledgement, he turned and left the room, knowing already that all three would take his offer. After all, where else had they to go?

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

"No! No. No!" Peter practically shouted at Mr. Nakamura in his office. "I don't care if he saved her life. I don't care if he's beginning to have feelings for her. He's a cold blooded murderer. He deserves to pay for what he's done!"

"And he will," Mr. Nakamura answered calmly. "He's going to pay by setting things right—by doing good where he can. He's a powerful man, Peter. He's demonstrated that to you, personally, several times now. He would be a mighty weapon against evil. But he must be…rehabilitated, for lack of a better word. That's where Claire comes into play."

"You honestly expect me to allow my niece to go with that madman?" Peter demanded.

Nakamura chuckled. "My friend, you're not going to allow anything. Claire is her own person, and she will make that decision for herself, as she has already clearly proven by resisting you—twice. Listen," he began, getting up from the desk and standing in front of Peter. "Let me tell you something. In all the years of my life, I have seen some things happen that have seemed nearly impossible. I've seen people who were at the brink of death bounce back. I've seen those who had practically succumbed to grief and despair find a reason to continue. And I've seen those who appeared to be beyond redemption become champions for the Way."

"Completely beyond redemption? I find that hard to believe," Peter said.

Nakamura smiled. "Believe it. I was one of them," he said to the surprised young man. "When I was your age I was cruel, ruthless, driven by self-aggrandizement. I would have killed anyone for what I wanted. And with my power, I could do practically anything. Morality was never part of the equation for me."

"So what happened?"

"A woman. A woman happened," Nakamura said, walking back to his desk and beginning to straighten things up. "She was the perfect balance of hardness and softness, just like Claire. She became Hiro's mother. I wouldn't be here with you today if it wasn't for her. She saved my life."

"And you think that the same thing will happen to Sylar? That his attraction to Claire will redeem him, and he'll join the good guys?"

"I don't know the future, my friend. I only know the present. And right now, at this moment, I know he's making the right choice."

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Sylar sat in the white, mostly empty room, assuming that he was being kept prisoner. That was fine. There really wasn't any place for him to go anyway. There wasn't anything for him to do, to look forward to. He hadn't seen Claire since they had been transported to Mr. Nakamura's office, she having been taken one way, he the other.

He saved her. He was terrified of losing her, and he saved her life. It seemed that it would be such a simple idea for him to comprehend, but he found it to be one of the most complicated things he'd ever faced.

He was Sylar. He had been called Murderer, Killer, Brain-Eater, Boogey-Man. Sylar took what belonged to him by cutting open the tops of people's heads and analyzing their brains to see how the mechanism worked. He left them dead and bleeding. But now…none of that mattered. That craving he had once had was gone. Even the voice he had begun to hear in his head, reminding him of what he was, was barely a whisper. What had happened to him?

He was roused out of his thoughts by a knock on the door, which jarred him to alertness.

"Come in," he said.

It was her. Hair and body freshly washed, wearing a short, lavender-colored dress with black pumps. Simple, but breathtaking. That was Claire, always.

She carried in her hand a brown paper bag and a can of coke. She started to smile, which made him feel light, then seemed to think better of it and kept her face serious. Sylar felt his heart fall. Despite what she said, she was still very much afraid of him.

She spoke before he had the chance to. "I told Mr. Nakamura's guards that you might be hungry, so they allowed me to bring you something to eat." Without waiting for an answer, she put the food down on the small table in the corner.

Sylar stood up, and noticed she moved back a step when he did that. He sighed. "Thank you," he told her. He began to walk to it, wondering if she would move away again, but she stood where she was.

"You're welcome," she told him, as he picked up the bag and began to look through it. "And-and I wanted to thank you too. For saving my life."

Sylar stopped, and looked at the petite blonde, framed in the doorway. Was this her way of warming to him? He smiled. "You're welcome. I'm glad I kept you from doing something foolish."

She smiled too. "I'm glad I kept you from doing something foolish too. You spared Peter as well."

Sylar's smile faded instantly with the mention of that man's name. He knew it. She was in love with him. Maybe she didn't know it yet, but he could see it. She loved Peter, and Sylar had spared his life. He felt the anger build in him. He wished he could have killed that softie boy-wonder when he had the chances before.

As if she read his thoughts, Claire explained. "I think of Peter as an older brother, although he's my biological uncle. It's mostly because we're so close in age…and because we've been through so much together…" Claire's voice trailed off at this point, as she pretended to look out the window, even though it was too far up for someone of her height to see out of.

Sylar dared to step closer to her. "So…you're…not in love with him?" he asked, rather stupidly.

Clare looked back at him and snorted. "That's a little twisted, even for freaks like us," she quipped, but then seemed to give it a little more thought. "I probably had a crush on him the first night we met, and it helped, of course, that he was my handsome rescuer…" she trailed off again, realizing who she was talking to.

"He rescued you from me," Sylar said matter-of-factly, remembering that night.

Claire now narrowed her eyes, looking at him. "Yes," she said. "You tried to kill me that night. You threw me against a locker and mangled my face and broke my leg. And you would have succeeded if it hadn't been for Peter." She took a shuddering breath and began to walk out of the room.

Sylar tried to catch her. "Wait, Claire—"

"He wants us to travel together," she interrupted quickly, her eyes down on the floor.

Sylar stared at her. "What?"

"Mr. Nakamura. He wants us to travel together, putting right what's wrong, solving crimes, that kind of thing."

Sylar was taken aback. "And-and is this…something you'd want to do…with me?" he asked, almost shyly.

Claire looked up at him, finally, her face resolute. "I can't have sex with you again," she said frankly.

He was puzzled, a little disappointed, but mostly just confused. "I'm sorry?"

"I shouldn't have allowed it to happen the first time. But I was so attracted to you…and you appealed to something dark and violent in me. But if we do this, it can't be because of your feelings for me alone. It has to be because you want to change your ways."

With that, Sylar placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him, one on one. "Claire. I'm a bad man. I've done bad things. I can't change overnight. Even I know that."

"I know you can't," Claire said, her voice growing heavy with emotion. "But you've done one good thing so far—you saved me. And I don't think that I have to be the only person you'll ever save. When we were…together, I saw that you can care. You have the capacity for caring. And maybe…I can help you."

Sylar took his hands off of her shoulders and looked at her somewhat coolly. "What happens if I refuse?"

Claire shrugged just as frostily. "I'm willing to bet no prison could hold you, even Mr. Nakamura's, if he did want to keep you. You could go about doing what you do best, although you know Peter and the others will do their damnedest to stop you. You could go back to fixing watches—since it's the second thing you do best. You could try something entirely different—if you wanted to. But, whatever one of these options you take, I can guarantee you that you'll never see me again."

She said it so easily and flatly that Sylar knew she was telling the truth. It was what he admired about her: no matter the situation, she always was honest. But the thought of never seeing her actually scared him. "Are you sure?" he asked, almost childlike.

She nodded. "I'm sure. It's your life to live, Sylar. Just as you want."

"But according to you," Sylar said, walking closer to Claire, "I won't really be living until I put someone else's life before my own?"

Claire tilted her head back, but didn't back away entirely. "That's right."

"Then," Sylar said, "I think…I'm ready to learn how to live." With that, he lowered his head to kiss her.

It felt wonderful, but Claire broke the kiss quickly. "I can't…love you yet, not until I'm sure you've completely changed."

Sylar chuckled bitterly. "I know you couldn't. I wouldn't expect any less from you."

Claire's eyes widened with surprise, but then she cleared her throat and said, "Well. I'll tell Mr. Nakamura the good news." She began to walk to the door but stopped and turned around. "Why don't we both tell him?" she suggested lightly.

Sylar smiled and followed his destiny.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

This was the phone call she had been dreading the most to make, next to telling Peter, of course. Thankfully Mr. Nakamura had already done her the favor of telling her overprotective uncle, so now it was just a matter of telling her father—the man she had called "father" all these years.

She asked Sylar to leave her alone, and asked Peter to stay nearby, in case her father had a shit fit and she needed backup. With trembling fingers she dialed her father's cell phone, her heart pounding with every ring.

At the fourth, he picked up. "Hello?" came Noah's tense voice.

"Dad?" Claire asked.

"Claire-bear!" he exclaimed with joy. "Where are you?"

"I'm with Mr. Nakamura. He has work for me," Claire said directly.

There was a pause on the other end. Then, Noah said, "I know. He told me that you would."

"He-he wants me to work with Sylar, Dad. To…bring him back to the "Way" as he calls it." Claire now winced. She was afraid of how her father would react.

Another long pause, then a sigh. "I know, Claire. He showed me the picture of you two. And even though my fatherly instincts make me want to drag you away from all of that mess, it's not my place to do so."

Claire's eyes widened in surprise. "So…you're letting me go?" she asked.

"Yes. I knew I would have to someday," Noah told the woman he'd raised as his own.

CCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCC

Peter stood outside the door, watching Claire speak to Noah. After a few minutes, she looked at him through the window and gave him the thumbs-up sign. He smiled and returned it.

As Claire seemed to be doing fine, Peter decided to take a walk around the complex. He had turned down a different corridor and found Sylar there, leaning against the wall, his back to him. Peter felt rage boiling in him. He stalked up to Sylar, spun him around, and punched him hard in the stomach.

The tall man doubled over, breathless. But he didn't fight back. Instead he said, "I guess I deserve that."

"You deserve much more than that," Peter spat. "But I'll content myself with it."

"You're hoping Claire kills me eventually, don't you?" Sylar asked, almost sincerely.

Peter lunged at Sylar and grabbed him by the collar. "If you do anything—anything at all to hurt Claire, I will hunt you down and kill you, you understand me?"

Sylar grinned wickedly. "You haven't been able to kill me so far, Petrelli."

But Peter didn't grin back. He replied, "I promise you—if Claire gets hurt, I won't fail."

Sylar looked at the man who had been his bitter enemy, and actually believed him. "Threat noted. I'll behave myself."

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

She was close to being ready. Right after she'd hung up with her father, she told Peter his reaction, which was a bit of a surprise to him as well. They drove back to the Gaither home, and she said goodbye to the family she had known. Noah had told her quietly that Sandra didn't know she was going with Sylar, and Claire admitted that it was probably the best thing to do—to keep it secret. Sandra held her and cried, Lyle kissed her on the cheek and punched her in the arm (he had an image to maintain, after all), and then, at last, Noah walked her out to the car, where Peter was waiting.

He tried to hold her to him as long as he could, but eventually he had to break the embrace. "I love you, Claire-bear," he told her. "I always will."

Claire held her father's face in her hands and wept. "You will always be my father, no matter what happens."

Noah looked over at Peter, who nodded. "Take care of yourself," he finally said.

Claire walked backwards and waved. "I will. You taught me," she told him.

As Peter drove away, Claire looked back to see her parents and Lyle, framed in the doorway, looking back at her. They were a family. And they deserved to live happy, quiet lives. By leaving them, she was giving them the best gift she could ever give.

After saying goodbye to her family, she returned to Mr. Nakamura, who provided her with enough money and a car. He personally walked with her to the lot where the car was parked, and where Peter was waiting for her.

Claire smiled when she saw the car. It was a brand new Ford Mustang in dark blue and silver, just like the one she had been eyeing before but knew her father would never buy.

Claire didn't know why she felt close to Mr. Nakamura, but she did, and he seemed to feel it too. This time, he initiated the hug. "Goodbye, my dear," the Japanese businessman told her. "You are going to do great things. I know it."

She smiled at him. "Thank you. For all you've done," she told him.

She turned her attention to Peter, whose heart looked like it was about to break. She knew he still hated the idea of her traveling alone with Sylar, but now grudgingly accepted the fact that it was her choice to make, and she made it.

She wept as he held her. "Goodbye…brother," she told him.

He pulled away and cupped her face in his hands. "If you ever need me, if anything ever goes wrong…"

She nodded. "I know. You'll be there."

There really wasn't anything left to say. The two men watched the incredible young woman get into the car and drive away.

CCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCC

Sylar stood to the side of the road, at the designated meeting spot. Peter hadn't wanted him anywhere near him when he said goodbye to Claire, and besides, it seemed a fitting way to begin their journey: with her coming to pick him up from his solitude.

She's never going to trust you, Gabriel, came that damned voice in his head of recent days. You're a killer. You'll always be a killer.

But the voice was drowned out, mercifully, by the sound of a horn. Sylar looked behind him and saw the blue/silver mustang slow down and pull up to him on the side of the road.

It was Claire, dressed in a white button down dress shirt and a navy blue skirt. She leaned over the opened the door for him. "You ready?" she asked.

Sylar took a deep breath. "Yes, I think I am." He got into the car and it got back onto the road.

They were silent for several minutes. Sylar looked over at Claire, who seemed to be concentrating on driving. At last he couldn't stand it anymore.

"So…where are we going?" he asked her.

She looked over at him and smiled slightly. "I don't know. Wherever our travels take us, I guess. Mr. Nakamura said there was no plan; we'd just go and do good where we can."

Sylar snorted at the lack of direction. It was so unlike him. His entire life was either regimented, or he was plotting his next move. This lackadaisical approach was new to him, but he was pretty sure he liked it.

He gazed out onto the wide, empty stretch of road and chuckled to himself. Claire looked over at him, puzzled. "What are you laughing at?" she asked him.

Sylar grinned at her in his dark, seductive way. "So this is the road to Redemption? I hope we don't come across too many potholes."

For the first time since they began, Claire smiled openly. "We'll drive it as slow as you want," she told him, meaningfully.

Anyone passing by in their car wouldn't have suspected it, but that blue and silver mustang carried two extraordinary people who, unbeknownst to them, were fated to save the world. But first, they had to drive.