2011-03-09 12:50![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thewatchmaker
thewatchmakerCharacter: Gabriel Gray and Brian Davis
Genre: Gen
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
thewatchmaker
Fandom: Heroes
Word count: 815
Rating: PG
Prompt:
Cameron: I am not going to sit on my ass as the events that affect me unfold to determine the course of my life. I'm going to take a stand. I'm going to defend it. Right or wrong, I'm going to defend it. for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
scifi_muses Vol3.Week31.
077. Jealousy.r for 100_fairytales 52/100
Notes: Had to write this when I saw Deconstructing Sylar in the Season 4 DVD set. A little what if where Gabriel Gray is a priest.
A sliver of sunlight, bathed the face of Christ in green, blue, gold and red. I watched as the rising sun made the gilded cross glow with the lights of heaven. God would tell me what to do if I let him. I knew it. My faith would guide me. He would light my way as he always had. I waited and watched the light wash over the altar, and it warmed the vestibule, making everything shine.
Father Davis was face down in a crimson pool. The sun was shining down on him, casting more colors on his vestments from the stained glass windows. His dark hair was matted around the gaping hole in the back of his skull. A heavy candlestick was lying next to his body, covered in my fingerprints and more blood. The guilt and shame of what I’d done made me whimper, and I bought my hands to my mouth to hold back the scream that tried to escape. I could taste his blood on my lips, and it made my stomach churn.
I didn’t try to move until the sun hit my back. I could feel the warmth soaking into my dark shirt, and I closed my eyes to drink it in. My legs were numb from being on my knees all night. Blood had soaked into my clothes, nearly gluing the legs of my pants to the floor. When I moved I could feel the cloth clinging to my skin and the hardwood. I opened my eyes and sat back on my heels, raising my bloodstained hands to the light.
“I have sinned.” With shaking fingers I reached over, brushing them over the wound. Bits and pieces of his brain were caught on the edges, and I couldn’t stop my fingers from slipping back inside following the path of destruction I had caused. But it was different now. Father Davis was dead, and his body was cold. No amount of sun would warm his corpse. No prayers would bring him back to life. “Forgive me.”
***
I watched in wonder as the chalice floated through the air between Father Davis’ raised hands. His voice was trembling as he prayed to God for help. The church was empty but for the two of us, and I didn’t think he knew I was still there. He dropped to his knees before the altar, and a sob was torn from his throat when the chalice tumbled to the floor. I let out a gasp because I couldn’t believe what I had seen.
“Gabriel,” he said as he turned to look at me over his shoulder. His eyes were so bright, the whites shining in the candlelight. “I don’t know how to make it stop.”
“Why would you want to?” I was nearly breathless, and my voice caught in my throat as I forced the words out. “God has given you a gift. It’s a miracle.”
“It is a curse. I don’t want this.” He clutched at his jacket, twisting and rumpling the black wool. Then he tore off his collar and threw it to the floor. He was terrified, and I couldn’t understand why. “I want it to go away.”
“But it’s wonderful,” I said, stepping up besides him, careful not to step on his collar. Reaching down, I tried to pull him back to his feet, and he yanked out of my grasp. I could smell the whiskey on his breath. He was drunk again. “How can you not want it?”
I wanted it. I wanted God to give me a gift. I’d been pious. I prayed on my knees until the fabric of my clothes had worn thin. My faith was my life, and I never let temptation pull me from my calling. I was good. Why didn’t god hear me? Father Davis wasn’t like me. He drank. He gave himself to sin. I was his confessor. I knew which of the Commandments he’d broken. His soul was steeped in sin.
“You don’t deserve it,” I said from between clenched teeth. Anger made my hands shake as I grabbed one of the heavy gilded candlesticks and brought it down on the back of his skull. Blood splattered over my shirt and face. I licked it from my lips and hit him again, driving him down to the floor. “It should me mine! I deserve it. You don’t!”
***
As I got to my feet, I held out my hand to the chalice and it flew into my grasp. Using the altar cloth I made sure to clean off Father Davis’ blood. When I was done I carefully set it right on the altar and smiled. The bells chimed, and I knew it would be time for 7am Mass soon. I had to get the church ready. There was so much to do. “It’s alright. I’ll take care of Mass today.”
Comments make the serial killer happy. Thanks for reading.
Genre: Gen
Author:
thewatchmakerFandom: Heroes
Word count: 815
Rating: PG
Prompt:
Cameron: I am not going to sit on my ass as the events that affect me unfold to determine the course of my life. I'm going to take a stand. I'm going to defend it. Right or wrong, I'm going to defend it. for
scifi_muses Vol3.Week31.077. Jealousy.r for 100_fairytales 52/100
Notes: Had to write this when I saw Deconstructing Sylar in the Season 4 DVD set. A little what if where Gabriel Gray is a priest.
A sliver of sunlight, bathed the face of Christ in green, blue, gold and red. I watched as the rising sun made the gilded cross glow with the lights of heaven. God would tell me what to do if I let him. I knew it. My faith would guide me. He would light my way as he always had. I waited and watched the light wash over the altar, and it warmed the vestibule, making everything shine.
Father Davis was face down in a crimson pool. The sun was shining down on him, casting more colors on his vestments from the stained glass windows. His dark hair was matted around the gaping hole in the back of his skull. A heavy candlestick was lying next to his body, covered in my fingerprints and more blood. The guilt and shame of what I’d done made me whimper, and I bought my hands to my mouth to hold back the scream that tried to escape. I could taste his blood on my lips, and it made my stomach churn.
I didn’t try to move until the sun hit my back. I could feel the warmth soaking into my dark shirt, and I closed my eyes to drink it in. My legs were numb from being on my knees all night. Blood had soaked into my clothes, nearly gluing the legs of my pants to the floor. When I moved I could feel the cloth clinging to my skin and the hardwood. I opened my eyes and sat back on my heels, raising my bloodstained hands to the light.
“I have sinned.” With shaking fingers I reached over, brushing them over the wound. Bits and pieces of his brain were caught on the edges, and I couldn’t stop my fingers from slipping back inside following the path of destruction I had caused. But it was different now. Father Davis was dead, and his body was cold. No amount of sun would warm his corpse. No prayers would bring him back to life. “Forgive me.”
***
I watched in wonder as the chalice floated through the air between Father Davis’ raised hands. His voice was trembling as he prayed to God for help. The church was empty but for the two of us, and I didn’t think he knew I was still there. He dropped to his knees before the altar, and a sob was torn from his throat when the chalice tumbled to the floor. I let out a gasp because I couldn’t believe what I had seen.
“Gabriel,” he said as he turned to look at me over his shoulder. His eyes were so bright, the whites shining in the candlelight. “I don’t know how to make it stop.”
“Why would you want to?” I was nearly breathless, and my voice caught in my throat as I forced the words out. “God has given you a gift. It’s a miracle.”
“It is a curse. I don’t want this.” He clutched at his jacket, twisting and rumpling the black wool. Then he tore off his collar and threw it to the floor. He was terrified, and I couldn’t understand why. “I want it to go away.”
“But it’s wonderful,” I said, stepping up besides him, careful not to step on his collar. Reaching down, I tried to pull him back to his feet, and he yanked out of my grasp. I could smell the whiskey on his breath. He was drunk again. “How can you not want it?”
I wanted it. I wanted God to give me a gift. I’d been pious. I prayed on my knees until the fabric of my clothes had worn thin. My faith was my life, and I never let temptation pull me from my calling. I was good. Why didn’t god hear me? Father Davis wasn’t like me. He drank. He gave himself to sin. I was his confessor. I knew which of the Commandments he’d broken. His soul was steeped in sin.
“You don’t deserve it,” I said from between clenched teeth. Anger made my hands shake as I grabbed one of the heavy gilded candlesticks and brought it down on the back of his skull. Blood splattered over my shirt and face. I licked it from my lips and hit him again, driving him down to the floor. “It should me mine! I deserve it. You don’t!”
***
As I got to my feet, I held out my hand to the chalice and it flew into my grasp. Using the altar cloth I made sure to clean off Father Davis’ blood. When I was done I carefully set it right on the altar and smiled. The bells chimed, and I knew it would be time for 7am Mass soon. I had to get the church ready. There was so much to do. “It’s alright. I’ll take care of Mass today.”
Comments make the serial killer happy. Thanks for reading.
