Part 1: Indian Summer

By Hedge Labyrinth

Note: Series of short vignettes set in an AU universe where Sylar and Claire are both in the same containment facility.

She doesn't mind the therapy sessions per say. Most of the time, they sit in a circle an talk a bit of nonsense. He remains quiet, never participating, just glancing around the room with that smug smile on his face. Sometimes his eyes rest on her and Claire looks away.

He shouldn't be there. It is completely unfair that she is in the same category as a serial killer. Then again, Sylar murdered their own kind. His crimes are akin to animal cruelty.

Claire murdered a man. She didn't mean it. But they'd come for Alex, and after West had gone into hiding, she wasn't going to let them take her only friend. So she fought them off.

If you go by the books, Claire is worse than Sylar. What a twisted little world they live in. But she keeps her mouth shut and behaves. She does not complain about the dampening collar that keeps her powers at bay or the bare cell where she lives.

If you think about it, Claire is lucky to be in this facility at all. If it weren't for Noah they would have cut off her head. But she's alive and some strings have been pulled. She's in rehabilitation. She'll get out one day.

It's fine, it really is. Except she has to stand his quiet stares during the therapy circle. Ten months of that stare and his whispered, vicious little comments whenever they happen to cross paths in the exercise yard or the dinning hall.

His oppressive gaze pins her down that day as usual, but she does not let it get to her. Today is a good day and whatever his beef is with her or rather with her father is tossed aside.

When they exit the room, neatly in two rows, Claire brushes her metal collar and laughs.

“What's so funny?” he asks quirking an eyebrow at her.

She's so happy, it's such a nice day outside – an Indian summer, a warm return to joy – and everything is just so perfect that Claire forgets how much of an asshole he really is and answers.

“They let Candice go. It means we might get out soon too.”

Sylar snorts. “They're never letting us out.”

Well, maybe not him. He's extremely dangerous and just because he didn't hurt humans – Claire's kind doesn't classify as human anymore according to the law – doesn't mean he won't try it in the future. OK, so maybe not him. But her. They'll let her out of the containment facility. One day.

That's what Noah says.

“Whatever,” she says, turns her head.

“Candice is dead,” he says flatly. "They've killed her."

Claire turns her head slowly. His eyes are very dark, very serious. Then, when he notices her horrified expression, the corners of his mouth rise in a mock smile.

“You're more naive than I thought, princess,” he whispers, leaning into her. “Talk to me when you're ready to grow up a little.”

Claire takes a step forward, follows the line of women ahead of her and turns left. She glances out a window on the way back to her cell and realizes autumn has begun to nibble on the trees and the false summer has ended.