AN: Written for the "spoil" theme for heroes_contest on Livejournal. THIS ONE-SHOT WILL NOT BE CONTINUED.

Not Forever

He'd searched far for her, but finally Sylar had found Claire Bennet sipping her drink as she enjoyed the sunshine in a red bikini on a California beach.

"So you're here," she said placidly. She didn't appear angry – not anymore. Sylar supposed she was far too old for such things, even if she still looked seventeen.

"I like what you did with your hair. Brown was always a good color on you," Sylar said. "I don't know about the curls though."

"Have a seat," she said wryly, glaring at him as she moved her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose. "What do you want? Hopefully you're not spoiling my time at the beach for nothing."

Sylar looked at her with a frown. "You weren't at the grave site yesterday."

Claire immediately snorted. "It was fifty years ago since Peter died…" she began.

"Exactly, which is why I expected you there. I thought you loved him, but apparently not as much as I did," Sylar scoffed nastily.

Claire sneered. "Don't you ever question my love for Peter! I loved him more than you'll ever know. I just don't see the point of going to his gravestone every year. I miss and mourn Peter in my heart every day."

"Is that why it's so easy for you to run away?" Sylar asked, and when a server came by for a drink order, Sylar paused to order something strong and continued his talk with Claire. As usual within his presence, she looked inconvenienced – even though Sylar hadn't seen her in over twenty years.

"I'm only running away from you, and you know this. I'm not having this conversation again," she said, pushing her sunglasses back up her nose. She slapped open a magazine and began furiously flipping through pages as if she was trying to ignore him.

"Claire, please…think about my offer again…"

"No," she said plainly, and she avoided Sylar's pleading eyes.

"Claire, we're immortal; we're the only ones still alive that know each other. We're practically family," he said.

"Don't make me sick," she snarled. "Honestly? Family? That's your line this decade? I said no…I don't care if you are killing special people again. And you are. I keep up with the news." She didn't appear surprised or bothered by the fact that Sylar was hunting for powers again, even if he'd killed less people than he'd done back in his prime; he still searched them out, stalked his prey, and grabbed their delicious powers in his most gruesome trademark ways.

"Peter helped me control it – the Hunger. He was the only one that could save me," Sylar said morosely, and he turned from Claire's unsympathetic expression to the rolling ocean waves ahead of them. "I wish he were still here. I wish he would have held onto your power."

"You shouldn't need anyone, not even Peter, to stop yourself from killing," Claire said dully.

"You know it's not that simple for me," he snapped at her.

Claire rolled her eyes. "Yes, and therapy doesn't work either. I've heard your pathetic excuses. I don't know why you come to me, or what you think I can do for you."

"Help me, like Peter did," Sylar said. "Help me not live forever alone."

Claire furrowed her brow. "I'm not Peter, and I'll never be like him. Peter was far better person than I am. I needed saving all the time from him, even when I could heal from everything."

"But you stopped needing him. You were able to live on your own, even when the world didn't believe you when you showed them the truth about abilities," Sylar said, and he looked at Claire with hope that his words would someday cut through to her – even if it took him another fifty years of convincing. He hated to beg, but Claire was – well, she was Claire, and he'd come to depend upon her now that Peter was gone. Claire was all he had left, and he'd like to think Claire would someday see him as someone she needed too.

"Then live on your own," Claire said coldly.

"I can't," he pressed. "Or I kill. Every time I kill them, I see Peter's disappointed face. I can feel him in the back of my head, yelling at me to come to my senses but I never do."

"And you think I can help you with that?" She laughed. "You have a serious mental problem if you think that. I can't help anyone, Sylar. I can't even help myself! I go from city to city, trying to find some semblance of normalcy, and I never do. I'm just lonely and bored, and I realize that my life will always be like this. I try to help people; you know, clean up a disaster here and there or explore the world, learn languages and cultures, but despite it all, I always go back to my reality. I am alone. My loved ones are dead and I'll keep living forever alone."

She sighed and tilted her head back in her beach chair. "I've resolved myself to my fate. I'm going to be alone, and I can only depend on myself," Claire said, with her tone indicating she was done talking about it with him. Sylar, however, wouldn't budge from his seat next to her on the beach.

"And what about my fate? I'm supposed to be alone too?" Sylar said. "I can't accept that."

"Well, like most people, Sylar, you were supposed to die a long time ago, but then you had to go and take my power. You voluntarily took immortality from me, and now you don't want it? How disgusting is that? Now you have to live with it," Claire said, sighing again and snuggling in her beach chair. "Consider it karma."

"So that's all you have to say? You don't even want to try to spend time with me, or get to know me. I've changed, you know," Sylar said.

"Yes, you changed. You change a lot, Sylar, and then you change back to who you were. You change to suit your whims," Claire said. "I, for one, am sick of hearing how much you've changed. Why don't you morph into your mother, tell her, and then she can be proud of your changes as well?"

Sylar glowered at her. Finally, he stood up and Claire smiled at him as he began to leave. "I'll be back, Claire. You need to think about my offer."

"I always do," Claire intoned mockingly.

"You neverdo," Sylar said, and Claire shrugged.

"You know, Peter once told me when he was dying to try to mend things with you. He told me that we should try to start over, that we'd someday need each other. I always thought he understood us best and the way our abilities were," Sylar said. "I hate to disappoint a dying man's wish, so that's why I won't stop."

He saw her tense from that. Oh, and that bothered her, and he could see her gritting her teeth, trying to contain her composure at the mention of her beloved uncle's last request.

Claire sat up from her chair and peered over her glasses at him again. The tone of her voice was chilled, and it stung at his nerves. "Peter didn't know everything, Sylar. When you figure that out, then maybe we can talk. Someday."

Sylar smirked a little, and Claire's demeanor seemed to relax slightly when he figured out the gravity of her words. He knew she didn't like the idea of him always stalking her, and Sylar assumed one day that he'd wear her down. But at the mention of Peter, Claire alwayslistened, and she had a tendency to agree to things in lieu of his memory. This wasn't something Sylar would lie about either, even though Claire would have her doubts about everything else. Though, she knew with Peter, Sylar would never lie. His smirk turned into a grin as she pursed her lips. "There, that's all I wanted."

"Don't get your hopes up too high," Claire said warningly, but Sylar could sense the levity in her voice.

"An olive branch then?" Sylar said, and Claire quirked an eyebrow. "Have drinks and dinner with me, and I won't guilt trip you into memories about Peter anymore. And, I won't kill anybody this week."

"The tempting part is that I could save someone's life with a yes," Claire said, and since the beginning of their tense conversation, the former cheerleader was starting to soften up to Sylar's presence. He didn't know what had changed, but perhaps she was really thinking about his comment about Peter. Either way, Sylar knew he had won when he heard her reluctant sigh.

"Fine," she said. "But I pick the place, and you're buying."

"Of course," he said, too preoccupied by his victory to care where she picked.

She smiled and looked at him like she still held the prize. It made him curious. Yes! This is the Claire Bennet he remembered. This was the Claire Bennet he wanted.

"Just remember, I have expensive taste now. I am like over a hundred years old," she said, and she rose from her beach chair and began to collect her things. She stood to meet him, locking with his gaze. "Consider this making up for what you owe me after all this time."

"I assume you think I owe you a lot then, Claire?" Sylar asked.

"Damn right," she said quickly, and she shot him one last hard stare, indicating to him that she wouldn't make things easy for him. She frowned slightly and he caught a distant look in her eyes before she left.

"You owe me more than you will ever know," she said distantly, and for Peter's sake, Sylar couldn't agree with her more.

END