2007-12-08 18:56![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thewatchmaker
thewatchmakerTitle: Hope
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
thewatchmaker
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 1647
Disclaimer: I own nothing. It all belongs to NBC and Tim Kring. I just like to write serial killer fic.
Characters/Pairings: Sylar
Sylar and Peter had a little battle - this is what happens afterwards.
Thud, thud, thud…..
My heart started back up. I took a deep breath and winced at the broken ribs that god damned Peter Petrelli gave me. The breath came out in a whisper, and I spat blood out onto the gravel of the rooftop. The sun was up. Glistening bright Los Angeles sunlight was bouncing off the mirrored windows of the building across the street. According to my watch, I’d been out for a good ten hours. Long enough for Petrelli to be long gone and for me to get some help, it was a shame I didn’t know where the hell I was.
The door knob slagged with a single touch of my finger, letting into the stairwell of the building. Wouldn’t it be great if it was a hospital? But for me to have been lucky enough to land on a hospital was just too unbelievable for me, and I was a man who could throw a Mac truck with my mind.
By the time I got down to the ground floor, fifteen stories later, I could barely walk. It was a good thing that I’d let myself down slowly through the center by levitating on down. But I was hurt, and I was tired. And above all of that – I was pissed off. Fucking Petrelli and his regeneration, there was no way I could stand up to him let alone beat him unless I learned how to do it too. Until then, I was vulnerable, and I hated being vulnerable.
At least I wasn’t helpless. I limped through the lobby of the office building past lawyers and accountants in their business suits. Many were carrying their lunches and talking on their cell phones. None of them paid any attention to me, which was fine since I wasn’t up to paying attention to them. I needed a plan. I needed to find someone like Claire Bennet. There had to be another one. There just had to be.
I had a brief bit of nostalgia as I paid the cab driver with my second to last twenty leaving the wad of stolen gold in my pocket. For a moment I remembered just how good it felt to break Chandra Suresh’s neck in his cab back in New York. Poor papa Suresh, he’d betrayed me too. It was a shame that he didn’t have a gift for me to steal.
My motel room was spotless. Not because of the motel staff, but because I’d cleaned it from one end to the other when I’d moved in. I hate clutter, and I hate filth. I hated that it was all I could afford too, but right now I had other things to concern me. I needed to find a healer. Not necessarily to path me up now, although that would be nice. I needed to find a healer who had a gift that I could learn. It was my secondary option to finding someone with Claire’s gift of regeneration.
I took a shower while I let my laptop boot up. The water was blissfully hot as it ran with blood and dirt from my battle. Bruises covered one end of my body to the other and my wound was seeping in the middle of my chest. Gazing down at it, I could see how to fix it. I knew what needed to be done, but I didn’t have the ability to mend my flesh although I did seem to heal faster than a normal human did.
Dressed in fresh clothes, one of the four sets of clothing I owned, I sat down to start my research. Before I’d gone hunting by proximity, just picking a name on Suresh’s list because they were convenient. I never knew what they could do, but this time was going to be different. I was going to research the remainder of meta-humans in Los Angeles and see if I could find someone who could help me with my little problem.
“Matt Parkman,” I read the name out loud. “Cop with LAPD. I remember you. Did you survive when I sent all those bullets back at you?”
I knew he wasn’t the answer to my problem. I wasn’t sure what Parkman’s gift was, but it was obviously not healing or a fast metabolism. The next few names meant nothing to me. One was a fireman, nice job and there was a possibility that he might be good at fixing people. The next was a school teacher. It was unlikely that she would be any help. I’d be visiting them eventually, but not right now.
Googling each name, I did my best to find out about them all. I read Live Journals, Myspace and Facebook pages. Scanned newspaper articles when I could. It was getting dark when I finally found a glimmer of hope. “Hope Gale,” I chuckled. “Can’t miss the irony there now can I?”
Hope Gale was an ex-nun. She’d given up the convent almost a year ago because she found it too constricting. There were more people out there who needed her help. The sweet old girl had traveled all over South American taking care of sick and injured people who claimed she was a saint.
“A saint?” I could feel myself grinning from ear to ear. “Oh yes, I think I need some spiritual help.”
My last money went to paying the cab that took me to Hope Gale’s church. It was at the end of a strip mall in Pasadena. It had been a long ride, and I was even more still and sore when I got out of the cab. I was going to need a car if I stayed in LA. No wonder Californians drive everywhere. Their public transportation and cabs suck.
The church was in the end unit of the shopping center. It was a large space, might have been a gym or hardware store before the church had taken it over. There were crosses painted here and there and the neon sign flickered that they were open 24/7. Bells chimed as I pushed the door open. A few people looked up at me from their well worn bibles and smiled.
Then a woman dressed in a black suit, not unlike the habit she’d once worn came toward me with her hands outstretched. “Oh my you look like you’ve had a rough time. Are you all right? Let me get you something hot to drink.”
“Thank you. Are you Hope?” I let her lead me to one of the chairs near a table covered with coffee and donuts. My stomach reminded me that I hadn’t eaten all day as the smell of the pastries hit my nose. “Coffee would be wonderful, thank you.”
“Yes, I’m Hope. Here you are. Black?” she handed me a cup when I nodded and then put a cinnamon bun on a plate for me along with a napkin.
“Black is fine.” Like my soul. I sipped it while I looked at her. I could see how her gift was accessed, how it worked in her brain, but until I saw her use it or took it. I had no idea what it was. “Thank you. I read about you on the internet. I was hoping you could help me.”
“I have a bible study to give in a few minutes. Would you like to stay for that…?” She was fishing for my name. No reason not to give it to her.
“Gabriel. I’m Gabriel.” At least she didn’t add the like the angel part. I’ve heard that enough in my life. “Thank you. I’d love to attend if you don’t mind?”
Sinking back into an out of the way seat, I watched Hope and the other pastors of the church chat and explain their beliefs. I listened with half an ear, always watching to see if there was some clue to what her gift was. While I watched I saw one of the hunched over older women adjust in her seat until she sat straighter. There was almost a flicker of something, but I wasn’t sure what. But when Hope touched her hands, I saw it. I saw her life going into the other woman. When I looked up into Hope’s face, there were more gray hairs haloing her face.
Well, well, so she was the one. She could use her gift to heal others by sharing her life force. Not exactly what I had in mind. But what if she could take it away too? Now that would be interesting. I didn’t wait for the end of bible study. Excusing myself, I walked back out into the night. I needed Hope, but I needed her to be alone.
She was one of the last two to leave, coming out of the backdoor of the church. Walking beside her was a young man that I’d seen inside. If she hadn’t been a nun, I would have thought he was her son. They had such a sweet relationship. He was holding her hand with her arm tucked through his. There was less gray in her hair again. I wondered if she replenished on her own or if she’d taken the life from him. I couldn’t wait to find out.
I came out of the shadows like a panther bowling the kid over and smashing him face down onto the parking lot. With a smile I twisted his neck to kill him. “Now can you bring him back?” I asked Hope who had opened her mouth to scream. “Show me what you can do.”
She rushed to the boy’s side, and I saw her power as she fought to save him. Then I felt it as she started to leach my life to give it to him. “I don’t think so” I said, as I froze her in place and started cutting. “My turn.”
Author:
thewatchmakerRating: PG-13
Wordcount: 1647
Disclaimer: I own nothing. It all belongs to NBC and Tim Kring. I just like to write serial killer fic.
Characters/Pairings: Sylar
Sylar and Peter had a little battle - this is what happens afterwards.
Thud, thud, thud…..
My heart started back up. I took a deep breath and winced at the broken ribs that god damned Peter Petrelli gave me. The breath came out in a whisper, and I spat blood out onto the gravel of the rooftop. The sun was up. Glistening bright Los Angeles sunlight was bouncing off the mirrored windows of the building across the street. According to my watch, I’d been out for a good ten hours. Long enough for Petrelli to be long gone and for me to get some help, it was a shame I didn’t know where the hell I was.
The door knob slagged with a single touch of my finger, letting into the stairwell of the building. Wouldn’t it be great if it was a hospital? But for me to have been lucky enough to land on a hospital was just too unbelievable for me, and I was a man who could throw a Mac truck with my mind.
By the time I got down to the ground floor, fifteen stories later, I could barely walk. It was a good thing that I’d let myself down slowly through the center by levitating on down. But I was hurt, and I was tired. And above all of that – I was pissed off. Fucking Petrelli and his regeneration, there was no way I could stand up to him let alone beat him unless I learned how to do it too. Until then, I was vulnerable, and I hated being vulnerable.
At least I wasn’t helpless. I limped through the lobby of the office building past lawyers and accountants in their business suits. Many were carrying their lunches and talking on their cell phones. None of them paid any attention to me, which was fine since I wasn’t up to paying attention to them. I needed a plan. I needed to find someone like Claire Bennet. There had to be another one. There just had to be.
I had a brief bit of nostalgia as I paid the cab driver with my second to last twenty leaving the wad of stolen gold in my pocket. For a moment I remembered just how good it felt to break Chandra Suresh’s neck in his cab back in New York. Poor papa Suresh, he’d betrayed me too. It was a shame that he didn’t have a gift for me to steal.
My motel room was spotless. Not because of the motel staff, but because I’d cleaned it from one end to the other when I’d moved in. I hate clutter, and I hate filth. I hated that it was all I could afford too, but right now I had other things to concern me. I needed to find a healer. Not necessarily to path me up now, although that would be nice. I needed to find a healer who had a gift that I could learn. It was my secondary option to finding someone with Claire’s gift of regeneration.
I took a shower while I let my laptop boot up. The water was blissfully hot as it ran with blood and dirt from my battle. Bruises covered one end of my body to the other and my wound was seeping in the middle of my chest. Gazing down at it, I could see how to fix it. I knew what needed to be done, but I didn’t have the ability to mend my flesh although I did seem to heal faster than a normal human did.
Dressed in fresh clothes, one of the four sets of clothing I owned, I sat down to start my research. Before I’d gone hunting by proximity, just picking a name on Suresh’s list because they were convenient. I never knew what they could do, but this time was going to be different. I was going to research the remainder of meta-humans in Los Angeles and see if I could find someone who could help me with my little problem.
“Matt Parkman,” I read the name out loud. “Cop with LAPD. I remember you. Did you survive when I sent all those bullets back at you?”
I knew he wasn’t the answer to my problem. I wasn’t sure what Parkman’s gift was, but it was obviously not healing or a fast metabolism. The next few names meant nothing to me. One was a fireman, nice job and there was a possibility that he might be good at fixing people. The next was a school teacher. It was unlikely that she would be any help. I’d be visiting them eventually, but not right now.
Googling each name, I did my best to find out about them all. I read Live Journals, Myspace and Facebook pages. Scanned newspaper articles when I could. It was getting dark when I finally found a glimmer of hope. “Hope Gale,” I chuckled. “Can’t miss the irony there now can I?”
Hope Gale was an ex-nun. She’d given up the convent almost a year ago because she found it too constricting. There were more people out there who needed her help. The sweet old girl had traveled all over South American taking care of sick and injured people who claimed she was a saint.
“A saint?” I could feel myself grinning from ear to ear. “Oh yes, I think I need some spiritual help.”
My last money went to paying the cab that took me to Hope Gale’s church. It was at the end of a strip mall in Pasadena. It had been a long ride, and I was even more still and sore when I got out of the cab. I was going to need a car if I stayed in LA. No wonder Californians drive everywhere. Their public transportation and cabs suck.
The church was in the end unit of the shopping center. It was a large space, might have been a gym or hardware store before the church had taken it over. There were crosses painted here and there and the neon sign flickered that they were open 24/7. Bells chimed as I pushed the door open. A few people looked up at me from their well worn bibles and smiled.
Then a woman dressed in a black suit, not unlike the habit she’d once worn came toward me with her hands outstretched. “Oh my you look like you’ve had a rough time. Are you all right? Let me get you something hot to drink.”
“Thank you. Are you Hope?” I let her lead me to one of the chairs near a table covered with coffee and donuts. My stomach reminded me that I hadn’t eaten all day as the smell of the pastries hit my nose. “Coffee would be wonderful, thank you.”
“Yes, I’m Hope. Here you are. Black?” she handed me a cup when I nodded and then put a cinnamon bun on a plate for me along with a napkin.
“Black is fine.” Like my soul. I sipped it while I looked at her. I could see how her gift was accessed, how it worked in her brain, but until I saw her use it or took it. I had no idea what it was. “Thank you. I read about you on the internet. I was hoping you could help me.”
“I have a bible study to give in a few minutes. Would you like to stay for that…?” She was fishing for my name. No reason not to give it to her.
“Gabriel. I’m Gabriel.” At least she didn’t add the like the angel part. I’ve heard that enough in my life. “Thank you. I’d love to attend if you don’t mind?”
Sinking back into an out of the way seat, I watched Hope and the other pastors of the church chat and explain their beliefs. I listened with half an ear, always watching to see if there was some clue to what her gift was. While I watched I saw one of the hunched over older women adjust in her seat until she sat straighter. There was almost a flicker of something, but I wasn’t sure what. But when Hope touched her hands, I saw it. I saw her life going into the other woman. When I looked up into Hope’s face, there were more gray hairs haloing her face.
Well, well, so she was the one. She could use her gift to heal others by sharing her life force. Not exactly what I had in mind. But what if she could take it away too? Now that would be interesting. I didn’t wait for the end of bible study. Excusing myself, I walked back out into the night. I needed Hope, but I needed her to be alone.
She was one of the last two to leave, coming out of the backdoor of the church. Walking beside her was a young man that I’d seen inside. If she hadn’t been a nun, I would have thought he was her son. They had such a sweet relationship. He was holding her hand with her arm tucked through his. There was less gray in her hair again. I wondered if she replenished on her own or if she’d taken the life from him. I couldn’t wait to find out.
I came out of the shadows like a panther bowling the kid over and smashing him face down onto the parking lot. With a smile I twisted his neck to kill him. “Now can you bring him back?” I asked Hope who had opened her mouth to scream. “Show me what you can do.”
She rushed to the boy’s side, and I saw her power as she fought to save him. Then I felt it as she started to leach my life to give it to him. “I don’t think so” I said, as I froze her in place and started cutting. “My turn.”
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