Claire swung into the kitchen, smacking the door into Peter’s hands causing him to drop the breakfast he was holding.

“Jesus!” Peter went to his knees, gathering the toast that had slid across the floor, a scowl on his face. He never was a morning person. Claire paid no attention to Peter’s state of annoyance.

“Pam is gone.” She stated breathlessly.

“You know Claire, for someone who is invincible, you sure are accident prone.” He continued sweeping up the crumbs with his hands, keeping his eyes on the white linoleum.

Claire made an exasperated face over Peter’s head and gestured wildly with her hands. “I’m sorry, maybe you didn’t hear me. Pam isn’t in her bedroom.”

Peter stood up, letting out a deep sigh and poking his discarded toast with a forlorn finger.

“It was perfectly toasted.” He mumbled sadly. Claire reached forward and took the toast out of his hand, slamming it onto the counter. She grabbed Peter by the chin and forced him to look at her. His eyes were wide in surprise.

“What?”

“Pam. Is. Not. In. Her. Room.”

“Okay.” He looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to go on. She dropped her hand and squinted in confusion.

“Why aren’t you worried about this?”

Peter smiled slightly as he deposited his beloved toast in the trash. “Did you check Jim’s room?”

Claire’s brow furrowed more in confusion. “Why would she be in Jim’s room?”

Peter raised his eyebrows at Claire. Claire let out a dismissive sigh.

“I swear, all men think about is sex.”

Peter held his hands up in mock surrender. “Hey, who said anything about sex?” He bent down to retrieve another loaf of bread. “Just go check his room before you go all Justice League on me, alright?”

“Fine.” She muttered. She slid off the barstool she was balancing on and out the door. It was early and the bedroom hallway was quiet. The sunlight had just begun to pour through the far window and a golden tint covered everything. Claire carefully tiptoed down the hall and stopped at Jim’s door.

She carefully eased it open, wincing slightly when the hinges emitted a creak, and stuck her head inside. She let out a small sigh of relief when she saw Pam carefully tucked in Jim’s arms. She let her eyes wander over the couple in curiosity and gently bit her bottom lip.

Pam was tucked under Jim’s chin, both her hands over his heart, clutching the thin material of his t-shirt. Jim had one arm slung over Pam’s waist, the other tucked under her body, holding her close.

Claire smiled at the pair before quietly closing the door and moving back down to the kitchen. She walked back in and slid onto the barstool as Peter delicately buttered his toast.

“Was she in there?”

“Yes.”

“Were they having sex?”

“No.”

“You were right Uncle Peter, I will never, ever doubt you again.”

Claire smirked at Peter’s poor imitation of her voice as he slid in the stool across from her, munching happily on his toast.

“You need to work on your Odessa accent.”

“But the tone? Was the tone good?” He asked through a mouth full of breadcrumbs.

Claire chuckled and leaned forward on her elbows. “The tone was perfect.”

-

Jim was standing in front of Pam quietly, his face sad, his hands solemnly clasped in front of him. “Pam.” He said simply.

She smiled slowly at him and walked forward, but she didn’t seem to get any closer.

Her smile faltered slightly. “Jim, what’s-“

She felt a strange prickling sensation and soon Sylar was standing in front of her, between her and Jim. He smiled knowingly at her. She tried to step back but she couldn’t move, couldn’t feel her legs.

“Jim, help.”

Jim just looked at her sadly, his hands unclasping and dropping to his sides limply. Sylar let his eyes linger over her face.

“You have a choice to make.” He said carefully. “You or him.”

Pam struggled not to let the tears overflow and forced her body to move. “Wha- what are you talking about?”

“You or him.” Sylar stated simply and then pointed his finger towards her forehead again. She closed her eyes tightly as the ringing started in her ears, driving out every other thought, replacing it with morbid, uncontrollable fear.

She sat up abruptly, her breathing coming in erratic bursts. She opened her eyes and saw that she was in a pale yellow room. Peter’s house. She let out a sigh of relief and felt her body relax. She massaged her eyes with her right hand and felt something tug on her bed shirt.

She turned around to see a groggy Jim gently tugging on her. She smiled at his chaotic hair and weary expression. She allowed him to pull her down, as if they always did this, and she lay next to him, not quite meeting his gaze.

“You had a bad dream.” He mumbled, his eyes closing again.

“Yes.” She whispered. He opened his eyes at the slight tremor in her voice and reached out his hand gently to touch her bare arm. She winced at the contact and jumped, sitting up again. His face grew confused and he sat up as well, scratching at the back of his head.

Pam closed her eyes. You or Him. You or Him. You or Him. With every repetition of the thought, her heart gave another painful thud deep in her chest.

Jim looked at her back and the way she maneuvered her body so it was furthest away from his on the small bed. He looked up at the ceiling and tossed his legs out from under the blankets so he was sitting on the edge of the bed, his back facing her. He rubbed his jaw and felt the rough stubble from the loss of routine.

“Why can’t you just-“

Pam froze, opening her eyes and looking at the plain bedspread. His voice was so small, so distant. Weary.

“Why can’t you just let me in?”

Pam chanced a look over her shoulder and saw his head resting in his palms, his shoulders hunched over the rest of his body. Her face softened and she reached out a hand, touching his back softly. He leaned into her touch, lifting up his head and turning to meet her eyes. He grasped her hand in his and intertwined their fingers.

She kept her eyes steadfastly on their fingers and the way her pale skin contrasted with his tanned complexion, the way her hand was so small in his, the way his thumb carefully ran over the scar on her index finger, almost as if he were memorizing it.

“It isn’t going to stop.” She said quietly, her voice shaking.

“What isn’t?”

“People looking for us. Trying to come after us. It won’t ever stop.” She took a deep breath and watched as his thumb ran back over her skin. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I don’t want me to get hurt either.” She could hear the smile in his voice but still refused to look up. “But how does that have anything to do with us? Whether we are together or not, we both still have these abilities.”

“People could take advantage of our relationship.” She offered weakly.

“And you don’t think they would even if we weren’t? Pam, why are you searching for a reason not-“

“I’m not going to-” She stopped abruptly, taking her hand back out of his grasp. She slid out of bed, keeping her eyes on the hardwood floor and shuffled to the door.

She could hear him hastily trying to untangle himself from the sheets behind her. “Pam, wait, just-“

Pam turned quickly at the door and finally met his gaze. He looked confused, sad, his eyes large saucers and his jaw slack.

She swallowed the lump in her throat and forced her eyes to be hard. “I can’t.” What meant to be a finalized voice came out as a hoarse, weak warble. The ghost of the words floated across Jim’s face and he closed his mouth, his jaw tightening. She had almost forgotten those were the same words she whispered to him on a warm May night with pastel dresses and wool sweaters. But the same look in his eyes reminded her. The same feeling of her falling from a cliff reminded her. She could never forget devastation.

“You can.”

She swallowed and looked down, closing her eyes tightly to stop the tears. She knew what she had to say. She knew how she had to hurt. It was the only way. The only way to keep him safe.

“I won’t.”

She backed out of the door and shut it quickly behind her before the words had even sunk into him. She moved before the words even washed into his features, causing his eyes to cloud and forcing him to sit down carefully on the edge of the bed in shock. His hands were shaking mere seconds after the door shut carefully behind her, the twisting of his stomach after her footsteps had disappeared down the hall.

She slid into another room and locked the door behind her, shutting her eyes tightly and slamming her hands into her eyes. She pressed her back into the door and slid down slowly, the rough wood leaving abrasions on her back where Jim’s hands lingered mere moments ago. Her sobs came in silent hiccups, her tears in shining rivets on her face.

After her breathing had evened into the raspy draw she seemed plagued with recently, she stood up on shay legs and noticed the burn marks on the floor where her hands had been. She looked at the black hand prints with detached eyes and turned towards the window where a fire escape was.

She knew what she had to do.

She climbed out of the window silently and down the fire escape to the alleyway next to the apartment. She bit her lip and walked down the narrow walkway, not knowing where she was going but knowing he would find her. It was instinct more than intellect. She was no more than thirty feet from the open window and drawn fire escape when she felt the familiar prickling.

She turned her head half to the side and saw his tall figure, leaning against the brick wall, his arms cross over his chest, happily munching on a piece of toast.

She turned to him fully and looked him dead in the eye, not faltering in the least. “It’s me, not him. You take me and you let him go. You leave him alone forever.”

Sylar swallowed the remainder of his toast and brushed his hands on his black jacket. He pushed himself off of the wall and walked towards Pam. “Why, how very noble of you.”

When his hands clasped on her upper arm, she resisted. “What are you going to do to me?”

“We are going to go back to my place and make smores and share our life stories with each other.” He said dryly. When he didn’t get a response, he smiled slightly. “I think you know the answer to that question, Pam.”

She blinked back the tears as his grip on her tightened.

She closed her eyes and let out a deep breath. “Just make it quick.” She whispered.

“Oh,” He said, manic delight in his voice. “I have every intention of making this as drawn out-“ He leaned close to her ear, whispering. “As possible.”