Sylar - Gabriel Gray (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thewatchmaker) wrote2010-02-08 04:30 pm
thewatchmaker) wrote2010-02-08 04:30 pm
Entry tags:
Abandon all Hope - Sylar/Peter, Nathan
Character: Sylar/Peter, Nathan's ghost
Fandom: Heroes
Word count: 695
Rating: R for language and dirty thoughts
Notes: Missing scene from 'the Wall'. SPOILERS FOR THE WALL.
Verse: the wall - that I'm writing with![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
futureboyscout
Prompt: Alright. It's you and I. No way out. Get your shit together. Okay? Okay. Let's go. for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
scifi_muses
Warm sunlight hits my face, while dust motes dance. The water’s beating against the shower wall. I can hear the drumming, and when you don’t think you’re being loud I can hear the hint of a song you’re trying to sing. It brings a smile to my face, and I hunker down under the comforter I’ve got over me on the sofa. I don’t want to get out of bed. It’s warm, and for a change we’re not bickering. Not that the screaming at each other isn’t fun, but it does get old after about a week.
“Don’t even think about it, Sylar.” My eyes fly open, and the Petrelli staring at me from the easy chair isn’t the one I want to see. It’s Nathan. His throat is still gushing blood, even though his eyes are grayed out from death. The smell of rot and ruin hits my nose and makes me gag. “He will hate you forever. That’s why he’s here. He’s here to remind you what an evil piece of shit you are.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, willing the apparition to go away. Trying desperately to shut off whatever piece of my twisted psyche seems to need Nathan’s zombie to ruin what was a nice morning.
“Go away. You’re not here.” I pull the blanket up over my face, but the stink of his corpse is everywhere. I can taste it. It’s seeping through the covers and sinking into my pores.
“You used to tell Peter that too, remember?” I feel the weight of his body on the edge of the sofa as he forces me to shift my legs out of the way, or have it touch me. My heart is hammering. The terror is paralyzing me. I don’t want him near me. “But you know he’s real. He’s so real you’re thinking about getting in the shower with him.”
“I am not.” I want to scream it. But my voice cracks, so only a whisper gets out.
His finger raps me on the middle of the forehead, flakes of dead skin sticking to the tangled mess of my hair that's fallen into my eyes. “I know what you’re thinking. Peter might be too stupid to see it, but I do. You love him. Do you actually think my brother can love the man who murdered me? Are you that much of an egotistical prick, Sylar?”
“Get out of my head!” This time my voice is clearer. I scramble, trying to get out from under the blanket, but Nathan has me pinned in place. “You’re not here. I don’t love him. He hates me!”
“Yes he does. He hates you. I hate you.” His blue lips curved into a vicious smile, as he turned his dead eyes to mine. “You hate you. No one loves you, Sylar. No one loves you, Gabriel. You’re alone here with only the specters of your victims for company.”
“You’re wrong.” I finally worm my way out, elbows catching on the cheap carpet and I squirm to get away from him in a crab crawl. “Peter’s here. He’s real. He came for me.”
“He came for you for some girl, Sylar. He came for Emma. He loves her. He hates you. He will always hate you.”
“Go away!” My back is pressed against one of the bookshelves, knocking a few of the books down on me. Fear is the mind killer, Sylar. Think. He’s not real. “None of this is real. Peter told me. None of this is real.”
“Sylar?” My heart jumps into my throat as I feel hands gripping my shoulders. “Wake up. You’re having another nightmare.”
“Peter?” I gulp in mouthfuls of air that smell like soap, water and life, chasing away the stench of death. His hair is clinging to his face; he’s wearing a pair of my sweatpants. They’re too long, so they’re hanging over his bare feet. A drop of water beads off of his chin and onto mine. I touch it on my thumb, and bring it to my lips to taste it. He’s real. He’s the only thing that is. “I’m OK. It’s going to be OK.”
Fandom: Heroes
Word count: 695
Rating: R for language and dirty thoughts
Notes: Missing scene from 'the Wall'. SPOILERS FOR THE WALL.
Verse: the wall - that I'm writing with
futureboyscoutPrompt: Alright. It's you and I. No way out. Get your shit together. Okay? Okay. Let's go. for
scifi_muses Warm sunlight hits my face, while dust motes dance. The water’s beating against the shower wall. I can hear the drumming, and when you don’t think you’re being loud I can hear the hint of a song you’re trying to sing. It brings a smile to my face, and I hunker down under the comforter I’ve got over me on the sofa. I don’t want to get out of bed. It’s warm, and for a change we’re not bickering. Not that the screaming at each other isn’t fun, but it does get old after about a week.
“Don’t even think about it, Sylar.” My eyes fly open, and the Petrelli staring at me from the easy chair isn’t the one I want to see. It’s Nathan. His throat is still gushing blood, even though his eyes are grayed out from death. The smell of rot and ruin hits my nose and makes me gag. “He will hate you forever. That’s why he’s here. He’s here to remind you what an evil piece of shit you are.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, willing the apparition to go away. Trying desperately to shut off whatever piece of my twisted psyche seems to need Nathan’s zombie to ruin what was a nice morning.
“Go away. You’re not here.” I pull the blanket up over my face, but the stink of his corpse is everywhere. I can taste it. It’s seeping through the covers and sinking into my pores.
“You used to tell Peter that too, remember?” I feel the weight of his body on the edge of the sofa as he forces me to shift my legs out of the way, or have it touch me. My heart is hammering. The terror is paralyzing me. I don’t want him near me. “But you know he’s real. He’s so real you’re thinking about getting in the shower with him.”
“I am not.” I want to scream it. But my voice cracks, so only a whisper gets out.
His finger raps me on the middle of the forehead, flakes of dead skin sticking to the tangled mess of my hair that's fallen into my eyes. “I know what you’re thinking. Peter might be too stupid to see it, but I do. You love him. Do you actually think my brother can love the man who murdered me? Are you that much of an egotistical prick, Sylar?”
“Get out of my head!” This time my voice is clearer. I scramble, trying to get out from under the blanket, but Nathan has me pinned in place. “You’re not here. I don’t love him. He hates me!”
“Yes he does. He hates you. I hate you.” His blue lips curved into a vicious smile, as he turned his dead eyes to mine. “You hate you. No one loves you, Sylar. No one loves you, Gabriel. You’re alone here with only the specters of your victims for company.”
“You’re wrong.” I finally worm my way out, elbows catching on the cheap carpet and I squirm to get away from him in a crab crawl. “Peter’s here. He’s real. He came for me.”
“He came for you for some girl, Sylar. He came for Emma. He loves her. He hates you. He will always hate you.”
“Go away!” My back is pressed against one of the bookshelves, knocking a few of the books down on me. Fear is the mind killer, Sylar. Think. He’s not real. “None of this is real. Peter told me. None of this is real.”
“Sylar?” My heart jumps into my throat as I feel hands gripping my shoulders. “Wake up. You’re having another nightmare.”
“Peter?” I gulp in mouthfuls of air that smell like soap, water and life, chasing away the stench of death. His hair is clinging to his face; he’s wearing a pair of my sweatpants. They’re too long, so they’re hanging over his bare feet. A drop of water beads off of his chin and onto mine. I touch it on my thumb, and bring it to my lips to taste it. He’s real. He’s the only thing that is. “I’m OK. It’s going to be OK.”