"Then I'll keep getting hurt. I don't care. If I cared about getting hurt, I wouldn't have been a soldier. And if I cared about Sylar hurting me I wouldn't have come back here."

To say he wasn't still shaken would have been a lie. He was. He'd faced death many times, he had even called himself a God of Death in another life, but to actually die and come back from it... that was unnerving.

Unnerving, but an odd, strange relief now that he was standing with Claire again. He grabbed her hand before she could push his away completely, gentle enough to just thread his fingers through hers.

"Be honest, Claire ... do you want me to leave?"