2011-08-13 15:57![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thewatchmaker
thewatchmakerCharacter: Sylar and Emma
Genre: Gen
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
thewatchmaker
Fandom: Heroes
Word count: 970
Rating: R
Prompt: 070. The first harbinger of spring. 71/100![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
100_fairytales
Notes: I thought it'd be a nice change to write a post Wall fic where Sylar is still Sylar, and Peter is not in the picture. There is blood. There is violence.
The battle was over. Peter had stopped Samuel, and Hiro has saved everyone else. I’d done my small part, saving Emma from Doyle. Part of me was itching to kill him. Even after all those years with Peter when I was relearning the fine art of remorse, I wanted to kill Doyle. There was something about him that made my skin crawl. Being near him made me want to bathe in bleach, hell, I thought about asking Peter to give me a sandblasting like Samuel had since he still had the power to do it.
I was alone now. Peter had tried to take care of Emma, but Angela would have none of it. She’d ridden down to Central Park on her broomstick the minute Claire’s swan dive played on CNN. La Petrelli was in damage control mode now, and she needed her son at her side. He’d looked back at me over her shoulder and mouthed that he was sorry.
I wasn’t just feeling alone. I was feeling betrayed. He knew what she’d done to me. He finally got it through his head that his family was more poisonous than I ever could be, but he’d gone traipsing off like the perfect puppy. I could feel fingers of ice curling around my heart. I should have known that he’d go off with them instead of staying with me.
“Bastard.”
There was no one for me now. I walked around the carnival, looking for Lydia. When I heard what happened to her from one of the few carnies that was there it hurt. If I’d have known, I’d have left Emma to Peter, and I’d have killed Samuel. I still might. I wasn’t watching where I was going as I wove through the rides, the trailers and the attractions. It wasn’t until I found myself in front of the Hall of Mirrors that I understood what I was doing.
It was dark, only the ambient light from the street bouncing off the mirrors to light my path. But I still found my way to the center room where I’d found out the truth about who I really was. Not that, that was really me then. I was someone else, caught between Gabriel and Nathan. I’d been broken and lost, couldn’t find my ass with both hands and all the mirrors in this place for that matter.
Now I was here again only there were no images shifting over the polished surfaces. Unless I wanted to retrace every step I’d ever taken, there would always be holes in my memories thanks to Parkman. He did a lot of damage to who I’d been.
Peter told me that I’d changed, and I tried. I wanted him to trust me. I needed him to forgive me, and when he did it had felt wonderful. But he wasn’t with me now. He’d already broken his promise to help me when we were free. I helped her, and now he was gone.
“Stop the goddamn pity party, Sylar,” I told my reflection in the glass. “Suck it up. You knew it’d be like this. You knew he’d never choose you over his family. You’re garbage. You always will be.”
But I’d wanted to believe. I turned and leaned my back against the glass, slowly sliding down to the grit covered floor. Drawing up my knees, I wrapped my arms around them and made myself breathe. My temper was flaring. I could feel the heat of it rising through me and with it came the hunger that I’d kept under control for all those years.
“No, not years. Hours. It was only a few hours.” I’d told Noah that rehabilitation didn’t come quickly when I’d been his partner for the Company. How the hell could I have imagined it working in such a short time in my imaginary wonderland of suck? “It’s perfectly normal for me to want and need. It’s what I am. Remember it’s not a crime when a lion kills a gazelle.”
“Sylar?” I looked up to see a slender figure in the doorway what little light there was outlining her figure, and making a halo of her blond hair. I recognized her more from the sound of her voice than anything else. “It’s me, Emma.”
“I know,” I answered as the touch of her power washed over me. I held my hand out to her, so she’d help me up. But when her fingers twined with mine, I yanked her onto the painted floor. She landed with a grunt as I knocked the wind out of her. While pinning her down with telekinesis I got up to stand over her. “You’re probably wondering why.”
Her screams echoed through the mirrored chamber, and I wondered if she could hear them or not. I licked my lips as her blood soaked into her pale hair, and I gave her a wolfish grin as I pried her skull open. As the light faded from her eyes, I made her power mine. “Now I can call anyone I want to me. You’ve made my job so much easier. Thank you.”
The sanity that had been eluding me since the day I’d met my real father was finally within my grasp, and it had nothing to do with begging for Peter Petrelli’s forgiveness. It had nothing to do with a fear of being alone. Loneliness and solitude weren’t to be feared. They were to be savored.
Sanity came with the feel of blood on my fingers. I didn’t kill because I was crazy. I killed because it was the natural order. I am their predator. It was what I was born to do, and now that Claire had torn the door off the closet, there would be so many more of them for me to remove from the equation. I understood it all now.
***
Comments are almost as nice as a shiny new power. Thanks for reading.
Genre: Gen
Author:
thewatchmakerFandom: Heroes
Word count: 970
Rating: R
Prompt: 070. The first harbinger of spring. 71/100
100_fairytalesNotes: I thought it'd be a nice change to write a post Wall fic where Sylar is still Sylar, and Peter is not in the picture. There is blood. There is violence.
The battle was over. Peter had stopped Samuel, and Hiro has saved everyone else. I’d done my small part, saving Emma from Doyle. Part of me was itching to kill him. Even after all those years with Peter when I was relearning the fine art of remorse, I wanted to kill Doyle. There was something about him that made my skin crawl. Being near him made me want to bathe in bleach, hell, I thought about asking Peter to give me a sandblasting like Samuel had since he still had the power to do it.
I was alone now. Peter had tried to take care of Emma, but Angela would have none of it. She’d ridden down to Central Park on her broomstick the minute Claire’s swan dive played on CNN. La Petrelli was in damage control mode now, and she needed her son at her side. He’d looked back at me over her shoulder and mouthed that he was sorry.
I wasn’t just feeling alone. I was feeling betrayed. He knew what she’d done to me. He finally got it through his head that his family was more poisonous than I ever could be, but he’d gone traipsing off like the perfect puppy. I could feel fingers of ice curling around my heart. I should have known that he’d go off with them instead of staying with me.
“Bastard.”
There was no one for me now. I walked around the carnival, looking for Lydia. When I heard what happened to her from one of the few carnies that was there it hurt. If I’d have known, I’d have left Emma to Peter, and I’d have killed Samuel. I still might. I wasn’t watching where I was going as I wove through the rides, the trailers and the attractions. It wasn’t until I found myself in front of the Hall of Mirrors that I understood what I was doing.
It was dark, only the ambient light from the street bouncing off the mirrors to light my path. But I still found my way to the center room where I’d found out the truth about who I really was. Not that, that was really me then. I was someone else, caught between Gabriel and Nathan. I’d been broken and lost, couldn’t find my ass with both hands and all the mirrors in this place for that matter.
Now I was here again only there were no images shifting over the polished surfaces. Unless I wanted to retrace every step I’d ever taken, there would always be holes in my memories thanks to Parkman. He did a lot of damage to who I’d been.
Peter told me that I’d changed, and I tried. I wanted him to trust me. I needed him to forgive me, and when he did it had felt wonderful. But he wasn’t with me now. He’d already broken his promise to help me when we were free. I helped her, and now he was gone.
“Stop the goddamn pity party, Sylar,” I told my reflection in the glass. “Suck it up. You knew it’d be like this. You knew he’d never choose you over his family. You’re garbage. You always will be.”
But I’d wanted to believe. I turned and leaned my back against the glass, slowly sliding down to the grit covered floor. Drawing up my knees, I wrapped my arms around them and made myself breathe. My temper was flaring. I could feel the heat of it rising through me and with it came the hunger that I’d kept under control for all those years.
“No, not years. Hours. It was only a few hours.” I’d told Noah that rehabilitation didn’t come quickly when I’d been his partner for the Company. How the hell could I have imagined it working in such a short time in my imaginary wonderland of suck? “It’s perfectly normal for me to want and need. It’s what I am. Remember it’s not a crime when a lion kills a gazelle.”
“Sylar?” I looked up to see a slender figure in the doorway what little light there was outlining her figure, and making a halo of her blond hair. I recognized her more from the sound of her voice than anything else. “It’s me, Emma.”
“I know,” I answered as the touch of her power washed over me. I held my hand out to her, so she’d help me up. But when her fingers twined with mine, I yanked her onto the painted floor. She landed with a grunt as I knocked the wind out of her. While pinning her down with telekinesis I got up to stand over her. “You’re probably wondering why.”
Her screams echoed through the mirrored chamber, and I wondered if she could hear them or not. I licked my lips as her blood soaked into her pale hair, and I gave her a wolfish grin as I pried her skull open. As the light faded from her eyes, I made her power mine. “Now I can call anyone I want to me. You’ve made my job so much easier. Thank you.”
The sanity that had been eluding me since the day I’d met my real father was finally within my grasp, and it had nothing to do with begging for Peter Petrelli’s forgiveness. It had nothing to do with a fear of being alone. Loneliness and solitude weren’t to be feared. They were to be savored.
Sanity came with the feel of blood on my fingers. I didn’t kill because I was crazy. I killed because it was the natural order. I am their predator. It was what I was born to do, and now that Claire had torn the door off the closet, there would be so many more of them for me to remove from the equation. I understood it all now.
***
Comments are almost as nice as a shiny new power. Thanks for reading.
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