Sylar resisted the urge to slam the door shut behind him. As he stepped out into the hallway of the ornate (and overdone, in his opinion. He was always a fan of simple.) mansion, he glanced around for Claire. He spotted her down the hallway, staring at framed pictures hung on the wall. He made his way over to her, about to say something before he stopped and saw what she was looking at.

The framed pictures looked like professional family photos. Nathan's wedding, a family portrait, Christmas. Even photos that looked as if they should have been candid looked professionally done. Sylar wanted to burn each one in the stupid, expensive frames they were in. But he looked at Claire and changed his mind. She looked…wishful. Sad, mostly. But a small part of her liked the overdone cheesiness in each picture, he could tell.

Sylar noticed a lot of pictures of Nathan; political photos that maybe were once his campaign ads. He noticed many with Nathan and Peter, the two men constantly close in every picture together. He pushed down a wave of jealousy at the closeness the brothers shared, before inspecting the others. There were a few of the two men with Angela, and only one of the whole family of four. Claire was eating all of them up, probably imagining what it had been like to grow up here.

Back in Costa Verde, he remembered, they had tons of pictures like this. And in Texas, too. He wondered if they were still there, or if Angela had gotten rid of everything of Claire's. Thinking of Costa Verde reminded him that he should probably stop in at some point to see what Noah Bennet was up to. Maybe. If he hadn't gotten his memory erased as well. He brought his attention back to Claire.

"There's none of me." Claire said softly. It looked like her eyes were attempting to memorize the faces in each picture. "They don't even look like me. Dark hair, dark eyes." She glanced up at him before adding, "You fit in better than I would." He wanted to be mad at her comment, but the conversation with Angela left him drained.

He settled with, "I thought so too." Claire looked puzzled and he continued, "It's a long story. But you don't belong here, Claire. Let's go."

"But my grandmother…I thought I was going to talk to her. I thought she would want to see me." Claire looked sad, confused. For once Sylar didn't want to be the guy to deliver this bad news.

"Your grandmother is…" His mind searched his entire vocabulary to find the right word. "Complicated. I can explain later, but right now we're getting out of here." Claire wanted to protest, but the way he grabbed her arm, gently, and the way he glanced behind him with a look of muted angry made her stop her protests. This man had done nothing but look out for her so far, and if he thought it would be best to leave then she would agree.

"But you'll explain later, right?" She didn't want to leave without answers at the very least. The taller man nodded. "Promise?" She halted in her tracks, waiting for his confirmation. Sylar stared down at her and a moment passed before he said, "I promise. Now let's go."

As they exited the mansion, Sylar saw no sign of Nathan again. Nor Peter for that matter. He briefly wondered if Peter had gotten away. The boy scout always had a way of escaping situations like these, ending up alright. But at the moment Sylar was trying to think of a contingency plan. He had assumed Angela would have taken Claire back and looked after her. Sylar was unexpectedly left with her company, and the options of what to do were endless.

Part of him was wondering why he didn't just leave her on the street again. What did he really owe Claire Bennet? The answer hit him like a brick. His ability, of course. Her ability. A part of her that he stole and could never give back, even if he wanted to. And once again he was reminded of the weakness, sadness and anger he felt through her while he saved her life from the vortex. And though he knew he didn't have to, part of him wanted her along for the ride.

Immediately he decided Claire would accompany him to meet his real father. He didn't want to be alone to do this, didn't feel like he could really face the man who abandoned him to Virginia and Martin Gray. But Claire would be there. Innocent Claire who would only understand as much as he would let her.

As the duo waited for a cab to pull over, Claire inspected the large house. For a few moments, a wave of loneliness passed over her. It was different before, when she didn't know she had anyone. When she didn't know there were people out there that could be looking for her. But now she knew better, knew she had a family. A family that didn't want her. Claire felt suddenly tired, as if just now realizing how far she had gone on empty.

Sylar looked over at the small blonde beside him. He knew this whole situation wasn't fair, and his mind raced with all possibilities of what could possibly go wrong by bringing her along. But seeing her distraught expression, coupled with the instinct that at any moment she was about to fall over dead asleep, he decided it didn't matter. As a cab pulled up in front of them, Sylar wrapped an arm around Claire's shoulders and felt her lean against him.

"Queens," He told the cab driver as they got in. Sylar felt a dead weight against him a moment later and knew Claire had finally fallen asleep. Right.

He needed a car. With his ability from Bob Bishop it wouldn't be hard to obtain one, and he wanted it to be practical enough for a cross-country journey. And he needed gas, money, maybe a bank account…

Looking at the girl asleep next to him, he also added clothes to his mental list. For her and for himself. It would bring more attention to have her wandering around like this anyway.

Sylar didn't want to feel sympathy for Claire. Really, he didn't. This was just a means to an end for him, for now. But he didn't feel exactly right about holding this entire situation against her while she is completely oblivious to her past. Sylar sighed as the cab pulled up to the familiar apartment. He looked down and noticed Claire was still out cold.

He shook his head before paying the cab driver in cash. Getting out of the car, he reached in to pick Claire up. His arms curled around her knees and supported her back, folding her against his chest. He ignored the pleasant sensation it caused him and continued up to his apartment.

Claire woke up with a start, glancing at her surroundings frantically. She had fallen asleep in some pretty sketchy areas, and was overwhelmed with a sense of relief when she recognized the apartment she was in. She was laying on a small couch and sunlight was streaming in through the windows. Odd, considering last she remembered the sun had been going down. Had she really been asleep for that long?

Claire looked around for a sign of her friend. It was silent in the apartment, something she hadn't gotten used to. Living on the streets meant noise- constantly. The silence of the apartment was almost deafening.

Claire tried to recall how she had gotten here, but the last thing she remembered was leaving her grandmother's house. At that thought, she frowned. She expected more, a lot more. She expected a home or a name or something. Anything. But Sylar told her that it wouldn't work out, that she didn't belong there.

Why did she even trust him so much? Claire wanted to explore that more, but the simplicity of it was that she had no one else to trust. And so far, he was taking care of her. A little rough around the edges, sure. But better than the city that would have eventually eaten her alive.

She heard a noise by the front door and froze, watching the handle of the door jiggle before opening. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Sylar move through the doorway, carrying what looked like groceries and some shopping bags. She got up gingerly from the couch and walked toward him as he juggled the keys in his hands with the bags.

"Here," Claire said, reaching out to take a few of the bags off his hands. "Let me help." She took a few bags before he could say a word and turned to place them in the kitchen she had only been in once before. Sylar stared at her wordlessly, as if not really believing the scene before him. Claire started humming beneath her breath as she unearthed everything he bought. Toiletries mostly, she noticed. Shampoo, conditioner…two razors. Claire raised her eyebrows, wondering why he would need two when a thought struck her.

It was a man's razor and a woman's razor. She placed the items down on the counter before turning to face him, just now realizing he hadn't moved but instead had been watching her noiselessly.

"Did you…." Claire searched for the right words, frustrated when she saw he was amused by her speechlessness. "Did you buy things for me?" Sylar finally moved toward her until he was a few inches away, still carrying a few bags in his hand. Reaching past her, he placed the remaining bags on the counter next to the others and dropped his keys with a clang. Claire stared up at him, not knowing how to even express her gratitude.

Finally Sylar nodded with a smirk, "Well, I hardly have need for a woman's razor so you better hope that's for you." Claire frowned a little, placing a hand on his arm.

"Please, don't joke around. That's….kind of you. To think of me like that. But I can't…" She glanced down next to her at the other items, realizing he had purchased an extra set of almost everything he bought. He stared down at the hand on his arm, and once again a disbelieving and almost surprised look crossed his face. "I can't accept any of this. I don't have money to pay you back. I don't even…I don't even know where to go from here."

Sylar's gaze was almost too intense for Claire. She wanted to push him away, never look at him again for all the emotions he was making her feel. Not lust exactly, and not like either. Just overwhelming gratitude, astonishment and a variety of other things she couldn't sort out. She felt partly guilty for making him take care of her…partly sad because her family wouldn't or couldn't. Partly angry because of the abandonment. But mostly gratitude, towards him. For him.

Sylar brushed her hand away before responding. "You're coming with me. We're going to find my family now." She pulled away from him entirely in surprise.

"Your family? Like your real family? You said you're adopted, right?"

"Right. Your grandmother kindly gave me the means to find my real father." She didn't get his sarcasm. Sylar turned towards the counter to start unpacking the things he had bought. "So you're coming with me."

"But…why?" Claire wrung her hands, watching the facial expressions change on Sylar's face.

"Because." He said after a moment, hesitating as he took the two toothbrushes out of the plastic bag. "Because you have nowhere else to go. And because I want you to come." Sylar's eyes met hers and Claire's breath hitched.

Okay…so maybe she would amend those feelings. There might be some lust in there, a little bit. And maybe some hero worship. But that's okay, she justified. Nothing will happen. He just wants to make sure she doesn't die. Like any normal person.

Sylar broke the gaze first before adding, "And you don't have to worry about paying me back. It's another one of my talents." Claire was reminded of the healed cut beneath the running faucet in this same kitchen.

"Talents? What do you mean? What else can you do?" Sylar rolled his eyes, grabbing one of the shopping bags and thrusting it in her hands.

"Has anyone ever told you that you ask a lot of questions?" Claire shut her mouth and frowned.

"No," She said softly, avoiding his gaze and accepting the bag without another word. Sylar instantly realized his mistake. Of course no one had told her that, no one had even been talking to her before him. Instantly he felt like a jerk before pushing aside that feeling and gesturing toward the bag in her hands.

"Those are yours. Get changed, we'll leave as soon as you're ready."

"Leave?" She echoed, "So soon?" After the words left her mouth, she instantly wished she could take them back. Didn't he just ask her not to ask so many questions? Instead of getting annoying or mad like she had expected, Sylar just gave her a small smile and grabbed her shoulders to spin her around.

"Go. Change. I'll pack up everything else." Claire went without protest to the back room to where he had given her the clothes she was now wearing.

She placed the shopping bag on the bed and rifled through it, pulling out different pieces of clothing. After emptying the entire back she blushed brightly. He had bought her underwear and a bra, as well as some other normal, everyday clothes that looked as if they would fit.

The items were plain, nothing special. But it didn't stop her from the wave of gratitude that hit her once again. She didn't deserve his kindness…didn't deserve the way he thought of the small things.

She took off the clothes Sylar had loaned her, folding them and putting them back on the bed. Claire inspected the rest of the clothes, before throwing them on. There were a few pairs of jeans, a couple pairs of underwear and some plain v necks in a few colors.

How he knew her size, she had no idea. She didn't want to ask, didn't really care all that much. She put the rest of the clothes back in the bag and brought it back out with her.

Sylar was waiting by the front door with a small duffle bag. He glanced up at her as she walked out, noticing this outfit was much more flattering than his own clothes had been on her.

Not that he didn't appreciate her in his clothes, but he was trying to avoid that road entirely.

Claire paused a few feet away from him and smiled at him shyly. Sylar wanted to roll his eyes at her behavior, wanted to shake her and tell her to be afraid or be angry or be something at him. But he didn't. Because a bigger part of him wanted Claire Bennet to smile shyly at him. Wanted her to touch him casually on the arm, wanted her gratitude and her warmth and her stupid endless questions.

Sylar didn't dwell on this part of him and instead gave her a polite smile back. "Ready?"

"Yep!" She chirped, walking closer to him to open the door. Sylar could tell almost immediately the change that the new clothes brought. She looked…brighter. Better. More herself.

And he didn't know if that was a good or a bad thing.

Claire stopped as her hand grasped the door handle and she turned around to face him. Once again she noticed their height difference, the way he towered over her. Maybe she shouldn't have liked it, but she did.

"I have a question. Just one more, I swear." Sylar was intrigued, and when he raised his eyebrows in response she continued. "Is your real name really Gabriel?" Sylar regretted allowing her this last question, wanted to be angry at her for bringing it up.

"I heard my grandmother call you that. Gabriel. Like the angel." The phrase took him back to Maya, the Dominican woman he had conned who had said the exact same thing.

Was he manipulating Claire like he was that woman? Maybe. But he wanted this to be different.

Sylar nodded, wondering if this was a mistake, "Yeah. It is."

"I like it." Claire gave him a small smile, "Can I call you that?" Sylar didn't even know how to respond. Did he really want Claire to start calling him by the same name he had given up because of her family? The name that her family used to manipulate him, lie to him?

He opened his mouth and, "That's more than one question, Claire." He pushed past her, brushing her hand aside to open the door and move out into the hallway.

Claire stared at his back, shaking her head. She didn't see the way his face curved into a smile as the door shut behind her.

:) !