Part 20
An Ending

Rated R for language, violence, and angst.
Word count: 5592

Summary: Peter and Sylar face off, as Claire and Mohinder's attempts to find them are thwarted by the Company.

AN: Final chapter guys, and wow, thanks so much for sticking with me through this. When I started this story, I never in a million years imagined the love and support that I would get for it. Thank you! It means the world to me to have you guys enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Loves

Also a thousand thank you's to my beta Motsureru for sticking with me throughout this fic! hugs

"I guess you know why I am here," Peter said as he studied his rival carefully, watching him for even the slightest hint of movement.

Sylar, for his part, appeared calm, too calm, as if Peter posed no threat in the world to him.

That may have been the case years ago, but things were different now. Peter was different. He was no longer that same innocent, naïve kid he had been when last they had met. No, four years and a lifetime's worth of grief later had hardened him, made him tough. And now, face to face with his enemy of long ago, he was determined that nothing in the world was going to stop him from killing Sylar. Peter was determined to succeed or die trying. Anger surged through him as he readied himself for a fight, one that had been much too long in coming.

"You came here to kill me, right?" Sylar replied arrogantly. "Well, fucking do it already Petrelli, and stop wasting my time."

Peter had had more than enough of Sylar’s cocky attitude. Throwing Sylar a disgusted sneer, he didn’t waste another moment with idle chatter.

The battle was on.

Peter threw out his right hand, sending with it a bolt of nuclear energy aimed directly at his target. But Sylar was quick on his feet and ready for him.

Sylar countered it with a small ball of ice, one that, in a mere second, turned flame into useless ash.

"That was pathetic," Sylar laughed as he flicked his hand and sent Peter sailing backwards where he hit the ground some thirty feet away. The force of it was hard enough to crack Peter’s back in half. The pain was immense, excruciating agony that for the moment left him dazed and completely immobile.

Peter struggled to move as the broken bones started to mend back into place. Yet, before he could fully heal, there was the familiar feeling of invisible fingers wrapping themselves around his throat, throttling him. He gasped and choked and, using all of his strength, somehow managed to shoot a sheet of ice towards where Sylar was standing. He heard Sylar hiss sharply with pain as he made successful contact with the other man. The action caused Sylar to lose his telekinetic grip on him. This gave Peter the opportunity to get to his feet, however slowly, as the bones finished healing back into place. Sylar used a touch of his nuclear ability to melt off the ice crystals that had formed along the length of his torso. Grunting with annoyance, he advanced on Peter, determined to kill him once and for all.

"Drive faster," Mohinder urged. Claire, in the driver seat beside him, nodded grimly as she pressed her foot down on the accelerator. The action pushed the rental car they were in past eighty-five and quickly towards ninety. Luckily for them, the roads leading out of the city and into the desert were deserted at this time of night. They had been driving for a good fifteen minutes now, minutes that seemed to stretch out unbearably long.

Both of them sat in a shared, stony silence as they struggled with their own respective thoughts. Claire’s mind was busy trying to make sense of the complex tangle of thoughts running circles through her head. She tried, and failed, to grasp the circumstances that had led up to what must have transpired between Mohinder and Gabriel back at the motel. Not wishing to pry, she simply followed Mohinder’s instructions, simply turning left and right as he requested.

Thankfully, he had managed to get a GPS lock on Gabriel’s cell phone, which had given them an idea as to where he was. However, they had been unable to reach either him or Peter on their respective phones; both had gone straight to voicemail, a fact they found disheartening but not unexpected.

Claire chanced glancing in Mohinder’s direction, her quick gaze taking in the sight of him disheveled and still bleeding with his clothes haphazardly tossed on. His eyes, red-rimmed and glazed over, simply stared out the onto the road, unseeing.

Claire coughed in an effort to break the eerie silence between them and reached across the seat to rest her hand on Mohinder’s knee. He seemed surprised by the gesture when he looked down and found her hand there, gentle and comforting. Mohinder tried to give her a reassuring smile in response but the attempt failed to match anything but the sight of his heart breaking apart before her eyes.

The pain there was so real and so palatable that, without a word being said, Claire suddenly knew for sure what had occurred between Mohinder and Gabriel.

The sudden realization made her heart contract painfully in her chest and tears of sympathy sprung to her eyes in response.

"Mohinder…" Her voice was hesitant as she spoke, searching for the right words to offer him.

"Yes?" Mohinder returned.

The tension in the car only deepened; there were so many questions that she longed to ask him and yet couldn’t bring herself to.

Instead of asking, she patted his knee.

"I’m sorry for this," she whispered, knowing how weak it came out and how little it did to reflect how truly sorry she felt.

"Me too," he replied. There was a rush of breath released, relief, as the words she had wanted to ask were dropped. Of one thing she was certain: the past needed to be buried and stay buried. Mohinder and Gabriel deserved a chance to be happy. If it was in her power to make that happen, she would do whatever it took.

Peter was growing frustrated with how things were progressing. It seemed that whatever he threw at the former serial killer, it was deflected with complete and total ease.

The infuriating part was that Sylar did it all while wearing that smug, superior grin on his arrogant face.

Peter was now fully ready to wipe it off for good.

Still, he wasn‘t getting anywhere; no matter how hard he came at Sylar it was thwarted as easily as the other man breathed. Each and every dazzling and deadly ability he could conjure at a moment's notice was served right back at him. Each and every ability he had spent years training himself to master was perfectly counterbalanced by yet another burst of nuclear energy or telekinesis. There seemed to be an endless supply of tricks that Sylar had up his sleeve, ready to pull out and use without a seconds hesistation.

No matter how frustrated he became, however, Peter was still not about to lose hope. He knew there was still at least one very important advantage he had over the other man: while he had been injured a few times in the midst of their battle, Peter had the fortunate ability of being able to heal almost instantaneously from anything Sylar dished out.

When Sylar had hurled a shard of ice at him, nearly cleaving Peter’s shoulder clean in half, Sylar had watched with clear disdain as the wound healed immediately.

It pleased Peter to see that the use of such an ability was getting under the killer’s skin. Over and over again, Sylar tried and failed to inflict damage on him, damage that simply refused to take.

Peter could see him growing more and more irritated as the fight continued, both men refusing to back down.

Peter came to realize that perhaps he had misjudged Sylar. It had been four years since they had last fought one another. Back then, Sylar already had a firm and steady grip on his powers, but now he was even more skilled with them.

Peter was growing tired, blood loss was making him dizzy and off kilter. But this bastard had made it personal and Peter had a grudge to settle with him, one he was not about to walk away from.

Peter didn’t just owe him for what he had done to Mohinder but also for what he had done to Peter himself and his family. Sylar was the reason that his brother was dead; if it hadn’t been for him, Nathan’s children might not have had to grow up without him.

Peter soldiered on. He would find Sylar’s weakness, and when he did, he would take him down once and for all.

As they continued to drive, Claire noticed something ahead in the distance. Leaning forward, she studied the colored lights that dotted the bleak, dark landscape, and her heart dropped straight into her stomach. She had a sinking suspicion of just who it was up ahead.

"What’s going on up there?" Mohinder asked from the seat beside her; concern heavy in his voice.

"There is something you should know…" she started, not sure how to tell him what she had done. She figured the best thing would be to tell him the truth.

"What’s that?"

"I had to shoot a company agent." she answered quickly.

"You did what?"

Mohinder’s mouth dropped into an O of shock at those words. He turned from her to the road block fast coming into view and made a split second decision.

"Stop the car!" he told her. She threw him a look, realizing that he was right, before she slammed her foot down on the brakes. It sent the speeding car spinning out before skidding off onto the shoulder of the road, kicking up a huge cloud of dust as it did so.

Claire started to turn in her seat to ask him if Mohinder was alright but didn’t get the chance.

Suddenly,as if out of nowhere, five cars pulled up in front of them and at least a dozen people flooded out. They were all holding assault rifles, leveled right at that them.

They were surrounded, with nowhere to run.

"Claire…"

It was her father’s voice.

She shivered as she caught a glimpse of him through the windshield; he was standing behind and away from the others.

"What do I do?" Claire asked, turning to Mohinder.

"You shot an agent," he told her quickly. "You need to give yourself up."

"Turn the vehicle off… now," her father directed, his booming voice hard and commanding.

"Do what he says…"

"We can still…"

"Goddamn it Claire - no! We can’t, this isn’t something we are getting out of. Now shut off the engine before they shoot us."

She nodded and turned off the car. As soon as she did, her driver’s side door was ripped open and fellow agents were pulling both she and Mohinder from the vehicle.

Mohinder didn’t have even a moment to protest before he was being slammed roughly into the side of the car, face first.

Mohinder turned his head to the right, away from the scene before him, the chatter of so many agents milling to and fro - orders being issued, voices carrying on. Beyond that, a sight greeted him that gave him pause and then stole the very air from his lungs.

Out in the desert there was the sound of explosions as light lit up the sky around it, and he could feel the earth under his feet vibrating ever so slightly from the force of the blasts.

That was when he knew what the Company had done.

They had given Peter free reign to take out Sylar, quarantining the area and catching their wayward fugitives in the process.

"Let me go!" Mohinder demanded, pushing back against the agent holding a gun to him.

"Don’t fight us," came the reply. But Mohinder didn’t care… couldn’t care...at that moment.

Throwing an elbow back, he caught the man behind him in the face and sent him pin-wheeling backwards, crying out in pain. Mohinder started to make a run for it, but it was a foolish gesture and one that didn’t get him very far.

He was once more thrown back against the side of vehicle, this time by the throat and a blinding pain that spread across his already aching skull, bringing white spots to his vision.

He slumped forward, nearly falling. Yet somehow he managed to pull himself upright, fighting off alternating waves of nausea and unconsciousness as he struggled to focus.

He could see Claire now. She was handcuffed and being pulled away from the scene, being marched right past her father as Bennet started towards Mohinder.

The agents on scene parted a way for him as he came forward. He looked towards Claire briefly, shaking his head sadly as he ordered her to be placed into custody immediately.

"Let him up!" Bennet barked and instantly everyone moved away, leaving Mohinder and Bennet semi-alone.

"I did nothing wrong," Mohinder told him as they came face to face.

"I know that, but this is for your own good…"

"Fuck you," Mohinder sneered, all trace of his usual civility gone.

Bennet only stared at him, head tilted to the side as he studied him.

"I am not coming back with you people…"

"Yes. You are." Bennet told him flat out.

"No, Bennet…. You are going to get in whichever of these cars you came in and you will leave me here…"

"Why in the hell would I do that?"

Mohinder straightened his shoulders, stepping closer to him.

"Because you owe me. We both know it… you want him dead, fine, but I won’t leave him…"

"Have you lost your mind…?" Bennet replied, incredulous. "Who the hell do you think you are, Suresh, giving me orders?"

Mohinder made his expression as hard as possible as he stepped right up to Bennet and got in his face.

"Only the man who gave this company … everything he has ever had. I will continue to give you that but… I am not leaving here without him, dead or alive. Do you understand that?"

"I could force you," was Bennet’s threat. But Mohinder was done with threats and could see right through Bennet’s false bravado, could see his resolve start to crumble as he realized now how serious Mohinder was.

"You could try," Mohinder replied.

The drive back to the Company was one of agonizing slowness for Claire. She made sure to keep carefully to her side of the seat while her father rode in the back beside her. Neither one of them spoke to the other; the silence was thick and heavy between them.

After forty five minutes, Claire could no longer take it; quiet tears streamed down her face as her imagination played through every awful scenario.

Her mind still struggling to come to terms with what they had left behind in that desert, or rather, who. She desperately tried to cling to a sense of hope for all concerned but her gut instinct told her otherwise, dread twisting her stomach into knots until she felt physically nauseous from it.

"What’s going to happen now?" she finally had to ask, her eyes peering out onto the rolling away landscape, the night’s dark bleakness mirroring her unhappy thoughts.

"To you?" Bennet asked.

"I know what happens to me…" she whispered back, sarcasm evident in her tone.

"Do you?" came her father’s cryptic reply.

Claire turned towards him then, facing him for the first time. His expression remained unreadable in the car’s dark exterior.

"I broke a rule. A big one… I am getting gassed and bagged. I know how these things work," she spat.

She turned away from him to look back out the window, fighting the alternate waves of anger and grief that coursed through her.

"I’m proud of you," he said a moment later.

"You’re what?" she asked, stunned as she slowly turned towards him, searching out her father’s face for the truth of his feelings.

"I said I was proud of you. What you did was stupid and it will cost you… but you made your own choice, stood up for yourself, for a belief. How could I not be proud of the kind of woman you have become, Claire-Bear?"

The use of her long ago nickname cut deep, the already there tears overflowed as she wept openly now, gulping back sobs.

The words she wanted to say to her father stuck painfully in her throat as she stared down at her handcuffed wrists. She wanted nothing more than to hold her father and feel safe and loved in his arms once more.

"You will have to pay for your choices. But you already knew that, and whatever happens now, I am still your father and I still love you, Claire. I always will."

"Daddy," she whispered as she looked up at him, surprised to see tears in the corners of his own eyes as he looked at her. He smiled at her and pulled her close, kissing the top of her head as he did so. Claire closed her eyes and savored the moment, leaning her head against her father’s chest, needing his reassurance and his love now more than ever.

"I love you too," she whispered as she cried for her family, for her friends, and lastly, for herself. It hadn’t been easy, but like it or not, she had survived, she had grown up, and she had found her own way in the unlikeliest of places.

Sylar kept coming at Peter with everything he had and still Peter wasn’t backing down in the slightest. This realization only served to infuriate Sylar.

He was ready to try again with another burst of nuclear energy, hoping to daze Peter long enough to use his telekinesis to tear his head from his body. Then he heard it, the other heartbeat- loud, frantic. He had been aware for sometime of the barrage of Company men and vehicles a half a mile or so away from them; he could hear them quite clearly. But, this- this was closer, and more familiar.

Then he heard his voice…

"Sylar!" It was a split second, a split second that he should have known he couldn’t afford to take, yet nevertheless his head swiveled towards the sound of his name being called, only to see a dark shape coming towards them. It was Mohinder, racing towards them as if he meant to stop them. Even from some hundred feet away, their eyes caught and held. Inwardly, relief flooded over Sylar at the realization that he was alive…

…

The blast caught him in the chest, sending Sylar flying backwards. The smell of his own flesh burning wafted up to greet him along with the crippling realization that he was hurt and hurt badly. He hit the ground hard enough to indent the earth under him. Lying there for a moment, Sylar thought maybe he would get back up, but when he tried, pain like he had never felt before hit him with the power of a freight train, forcing him back down to the ground.

Somewhere in the distance, even as he struggled to keep his focus, he could still hear Mohinder shouting his name.

Mohinder pulled up short when he saw Sylar was hit. His heart dropped into his stomach and, for a moment, fear gripped him hard and steady, making it impossible for him to move.

Then he saw Peter start towards the fallen man and Mohinder sprung after them, nearly tripping over his feet in his haste to get to them.

"No! Peter, Peter Stop!" he shouted frantically.

Peter paused only long enough to look at him before he shook his head sadly, ordering him away.

"I'm finishing this!" he told him, and it was clear to Mohinder that he had every intention of doing just that. Mohinder was only a few feet away now.

"No! Peter… stop, listen to me."

"No!" Peter countered, turning on him, his tone angered as he spun a round to confront Mohinder. For the moment Sylar was forgotten as they faced one another.

"Please… Peter. Don’t do this."

"How many times, Mohinder? How many times is he going to try and kill you? How many times does he have to destroy you before you realize he doesn’t love you? I love you!"

Mohinder took a step towards him, noticeing the tears that had sprung to Peter’s eyes, his heaving chest. He was covered head to toe in blood and there was something so fierce, so determined in his expression that it frightened Mohinder.

"You don’t understand," Mohinder insisted, but he knew the words were falling on deaf ears. How could Peter possibly comprehend what Mohinder could scarcely understand himself?

"Just leave, please…just leave us."

Mohinder all but begged Peter, who had turned away from him and started moving towards Sylar‘s prone form. Mohinder stopped him, placing himself between the two. Behind him, Mohinder could hear Sylar’s groans of pain as he laid on the dusty desert floor, trying to move but not able.

Mohinder held Peter’s gaze, anger and horror coloring his features, the look on his face daring Peter to challenge him.

"Move out of the way, Mohinder…" Peter told him, his tone strangely flat.

"You’ll have to kill me first, Peter," Mohinder told him and meant it.

"If I have to…" Peter started as he moved towards them again, but Mohinder wasn’t budging.

"Just leave…" Mohinder told him, trying once more to reason with Peter.

Peter caught the desperate look in Mohinder’s eyes, the tears gathered there, and the pained and stricken expression on his face. Peter’s gaze skipped over him, landing on Sylar, who now lay mortally injured. Peter knew that there was no way that he could survive the injury he had just sustained, amazed that even now that he was still trying to get up. There was blood everywhere… no one could survive losing that much blood, not even Sylar.

Peter looked back towards Mohinder and suddenly, for the first time, everything was so clear to him. He finally understood the truth: he may have won the battle, but the war had been lost long before this night.

There had never been a place for him in Mohinder’s life. No matter how hard he had tried to change that, no matter how much he had given, Mohinder had always belonged to Sylar and Sylar to him. Nothing in the past years, no matter how damaging, could change that one simple truth. Mohinder loved him, and he had never loved Peter.

"Please…" Mohinder pleaded now, "I am begging you, please…" He started to back away from Peter, moving closer to Sylar.

Peter nodded, his gaze catching Mohinder’s and holding. Mohinder must have blinked, because Peter was there one moment and the next he was gone. All that was left was warm wind blowing against his face and the choking sounds of Sylar slowly bleeding out his life behind him.

Mohinder turned and started towards him, stopping as the other man on the ground tried to move, tried to get up, but couldn’t. A hand was pressed into the open wound, failing to stop the steady flow of blood.

"Go away…Mohinder…"

There was no trace of hostility in his voice now, just the sound of pain etched with his last bit of strength as he growled out the words.

Mohinder shook his head and went towards him, stopping only when Sylar held a hand out and told him again to leave.

But Mohinder couldn’t. He had never been able to let him go, and now was no exception.

"No," Mohinder told him firmly. He came and knelt down by his side, almost as if daring Sylar to fight him on it as he moved his hand away from the wound. What Mohinder saw caused him to gasp out loud, horrified.

Sylar was hurt, and he was hurt badly. The skin from his stomach up to his neck was a little more than a bloody, open wound. The smell of death caught Mohinder’s nose.

Mohinder sat back on his knees and looked upwards at the large expanse of sky above them as the sudden futility of it all filled him.

The tears coming before he could stop them, wordlessly he rocked back and forth, trying to figure out what to do, when there was nothing, nothing anyone could do to make this right.

"Are you crying for him?" Sylar asked, the words broken and bitter as he turned over onto his side, coughing up blood as he did so.

Mohinder leaned over him, pressing a concerned hand onto his back. The touch seemed to surprise Sylar and he tried to move away, but stopped as the pain blossomed sharply across his mid section, making him nearly scream out loud.

Tears leaked down the corner of his eyes, trailing down the length of his face as it twisted and contorted from the white hot agony of his wound. Yet, underneath that, he was fully aware of Mohinder’s hands on his shoulders, pulling him back towards him gently and urging him to lay down. Sylar tried to fight him, not wanting Mohinder to see him like this, but he couldn’t do anything to stop him; the fight had gone out of him, all his strength having abandoned him. Unable to protest further, Sylar submitted and allowed Mohinder to cradle his head in his arms.

"Walk away … Mohinder…" he pleaded as he swallowed back a spasm of pain, coughing up more blood as he did so. Mohinder was quick to wipe it away with the sleeve of his shirt.

"Just walk away."

There were tears in Mohinder’s eyes, shiny and wet.

"No… I won’t."

"It was him you cared about…. Gabriel… not… not me," he finished.

Mohinder shook his head at that, knowing in his heart that was no longer true.

"You’re Gabriel," he told him. "That night… that night in Montana, that was Gabriel, that wasn’t…"

"Don‘t…"

"No… I need you to know. We don‘t have to pretend anymore, Sylar. I love you. I always did, even after…" The words came out in a rush, lifting the scab off old wounds, reopening them.

Sylar felt like he would break wide open in his hands, everything Mohinder said now cutting him to the core. Everything he had fought against. He had never wanted to care… yet, how could he have not? From the moment they had met, Mohinder had been the only one, the only thing worth anything…

"Mohinder. It was… never, never suppose to be…this…" Another spasm gripped him before he could finish, his whole body shaking, and Mohinder only pulled him closer, holding on as tightly as he could.

"Don’t talk… let me call them, let me.."Save your life

"No, Mohinder… I want it to be over. I need it to…."

"No…"

"Let it go…Just let go…"

Mohinder could no longer contain the emotion that overcame him.

"I can‘t…" he whispered as he wept openly now. He pressed his forehead to Sylar’s own, rocking their bodies back and forth.

"Please, I can‘t…" he repeated.

Mohinder continued to hold Sylar, trying in vain to stop the inevitable that was fast approaching them both.

He could feel Sylar start to shake in his arms and Mohinder knew, knew he was losing ground, losing it fast. There was so much still, so much unsaid and undone between them, so much now that they would never have the chance for …

Everything, everything they had ever been, ever would be to each other, was gone now… Mohinder could do nothing, hands completely tied. All he could do now was hold Sylar close, taking the good with the bad, reconciling himself to both and knowing that despite everything between them, that at last they both knew they had belonged each other, that they always would.

"Stay… please," Mohinder moaned as he felt Sylar suddenly still in his arms, breath rattled and then…

"It‘ll be …alright, Mohinder…" Sylar’s last breath exhaled, his body stilling as Mohinder pressed a kiss to his lips, his sobs shaking them both.

"No," he murmured sadly, "please no…"

After everything, it couldn’t be over. Mohinder sat there, feeling small and helpless, already his whole body going numb. The desert air was hot and warm against his face, drying the tears that spilled down his cheeks now, unbidden.

Epilogue

(4 years)

"I am getting too old for this shit," was Mohinder’s response to his partner as he turned in his seat to face her. She had asked him why now, of all times, he had finally decided to officially retire from the Company and go back to doing his own research in New York.

His answer was greeted by her concerned, skeptical face as she simply rolled her eyes and looked away in response. He knew she was upset over his leaving but it had to be done. The truth was it had been a long time coming. All that was stopping Mohinder from putting forth his decision was the absence of the certain someone he needed to present it to. After that, he could leave and start his life over like he had been meaning to do over the last several years.

He had a lot of love and respect for Regina. After all, it had been Mohinder who had taken it upon himself to see her brought into the Company from the mental hospital that she had been placed in as a young woman, personally seeing to it that her amazing abilities be used for only good. In the process, he had fought the Company tooth and nail for the opportunity to train and partner her. It was a battle that he had, after much persuasion, won, but now she needed to make her own way. The time had come for the both of them to let go and move on.

"Besides, you’ll get my job. Won‘t that be nice?" He patted her knee, a playful amount of sarcasm evident in his tone.

Regina snorted and threw a look back in his direction as if to say ‘You have got to be kidding me.’

"Oh please. Like you’re an old man… what are you, forty?" she countered.

"Forty-one. Besides, age really has nothing to do with it. I am just...done. I was simply biding my time, waiting ..."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "If you say so…"

"It’ll be fine, Regina, you are more than capable of handling the department without me." He tried to reassure her once more. He really did have the utmost confidence in her. She was smart, well trained, and dedicated to their department. He saw no better person to take over for him.

"Will see…" She laughed, not convinced in the slightest.

They both looked up at the sound of boot heels clicking against polished tiles. Niki stood up from her desk and waved him over. Standing now, he turned long enough to hand Regina the cup of tea he had in hand.

"Hold this for me… I won’t be long," he told her as he waved to Niki in greeting and made his way down the long hallway to the correct cell number.

Claire was in her usual spot, reading cross legged on the small plank bed, the only furniture allowed in her stark cell. He tapped on the glass to get her attention.

She looked up, offering him a smile when she spied who had come to visit. She tucked a lock of blonde hair behind her right ear before she closed the book on her lap and made her way over to him.

"How are you doing?" he asked her.
"How do you think?" she countered, as was their customary banter. "I am getting antsy as all hell."

"Just one more week to go…" he told her.

She nodded. "Yeah, one more and then I am out of this place." She gestured to her stark cell room.

"And back to civilian life." A pause.

"God knows what I am going to do once I get out of here… but at least it will be out of here."

"That’s kind of why I am here. I have a proposition for you," he told her.

She cocked her head to the side, curious as to what he had in mind.

"What is it?" she asked him.

"I’m going back to New York, back to my research, and I could use an assistant," Mohinder offered. "Are you interested?"

Claire studied him, "What about Regina?"

"What about her?"

"Well for one, I know that you are still training her. Don’t you think it’s too soon?"

"Regina can handle com without me. ‘Sides… this place has too many memories."

His voice trailed away.

"I need a fresh start…"

She nodded, feeling tears whelm up in her eyes as she saw her heartache mirrored in his. The years could not be forgotten, both of them still living amongst the tattered shreds of their pasts, a past they could not escape from. Especially here…

A new start… a new life. It sounded good to her. And suddenly, she was filled with the first sense of real hope that she had felt in years.

"It will be good for both of us," he continued. She nodded, head bowed.

"I know," she whispered, her voice breaking ever so slightly. "I think it’s just what we need."

"Is that a yes?"

She lifted her head, tears filling large blue eyes, she nodded.

"That’s a yes…" she told him.

"Good, I’m going to hold you to that, Claire Bennet," Mohinder replied, returning her sad smile with one of his own.

"You better…" was her answer.