Sylar - Gabriel Gray

Characters: Gabriel Gray
Fandom: Heroes
Rating: R for violence and murder
Word Count: 1250+
Prompt: Mortimer Brewster: Insanity runs in my family. It practically gallops. scifi_muses
Notes: Before the series, before the eclipse.

( I Have Sinned )

Characters: Gabriel and Virginia
Fandom: Heroes
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1041
Prompt: 21/100 #24 Family 100heroesfics
The Grudge – by Tool
Clutch it like a cornerstone. Otherwise it all comes down.
Justify denials and grip 'em to the lonesome end. scifi_muses
Notes: Gabriel's around 20 in this one.

I Could Be Free

My hands were shaking when the letter was delivered to the shop. I hadn’t told mom I was applying to out of state schools. She’d never let me go. It had been a lark when I’d sent my application to UCLA. Clear across the country, in the sun and glory of California I could go to school, and never look back at my miserable life in Queens. I could be free.

I lean against one of the display cases. The setting sun is shining through the arched windows of the shop making the dust motes dance. I should be ecstatic, but I’m not. I need to open the letter, but I’m not sure if I’m more afraid of an acceptance or rejection from the university.

Taking the letter opener from my worktable, I slice the letter open. With my breath caught in my throat, I pull it out to read. I can’t believe it. I let out a shout. They want to give me a scholarship. With the money I’ve been saving and the scholarship, I can go to school.

I turn the sign over to ‘closed’ and lock up the shop after turning off the lights. I need to tell mom. She’ll be happy for me. She has to be.

I let myself into Mom’s apartment. It’s getting hard to find a place to walk with all the baskets of yarn, fabric scraps and junk that she collects. She never finishes anything she starts. Heading for the kitchen I carry the groceries I bought to cook dinner for her. I don’t know where she is, but if I break the news over dinner, it’ll have to help.

The sauce is simmering; the scent fills the entire apartment. I made it the way grandma taught me. No recipes for me, none for her either unless we were making cookies. You need to use the recipe on the back of the chocolate chips to make those right, and only the ones in the yellow bag. All the others taste like crap.

She finally comes home, a sack of stuffed animal parts in her arms. She’s too thin, and it takes her several seconds to recognize me when she meets my eyes. I wish she’d go to a doctor, but she won’t. “Gabriel what are you doing here?”

“I came to make you dinner, mom.” I smile and put the colander in the sink to drain the pasta when it’s done. The water isn’t quite boiling yet. “You came home just in time. I’m about to do the spaghetti. Sit down and relax.”

“You made sauce?” She comes over and gives me a hug, rubbing her hands over my arms. “You left work early to cook for me?”

“Yes, it was a slow day.”

“You shouldn’t do that, Gabriel. What would your customers think if they showed up, and you weren’t there? You could miss a big sale.” Thanks for being happy I made you dinner.

“This is a celebration dinner, mom.” I break the pasta to make it fit into the pot. I’ve got two place settings ready on her little table. “I’ve got really great news.”

“You forgot your father’s plate, Gabriel.”

“Mom.” I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “Tonight can it be you and me, without the specter of dad? Please sit down and eat. You’re getting too skinny.”

“But what if he comes home?” She’s fussing as she reaches past me to grab that fucking third plate from the dish drainer and sets it on the table. It makes me want to smash it into a million pieces seeing it waiting for him like it has every night for ten years. “There that wasn’t hard was it?”

“No mom, that was great.” I drain the spaghetti and pour it into grandma’s bowl, pouring some of the sauce over it and put it on the table with the extra sauce in another serving bowl. I sit down in the same place I’ve sat since I was little, while my father’s chair sits empty.

I close my eyes while she says Grace, adding as always her prayers for dad. I want to tell her not to, but I don’t want to get into another fight with her not tonight. “I got a letter from UCLA, mom. They gave me a scholarship. I can go to school in Los Angeles.”

“Los Angeles? Gabriel that’s too far away. What will happen to the shop? What about your father?”

“Yes mom, Los Angeles is a long way from here. But I can make a new life, do something special. I can be more than I am here.” Isn’t that what you want?

“I don’t like it, Gabriel. You can go to night school here and keep the shop open. Isn’t that the way you were going to do it?” She gets up and takes her full plate over to the sink, washing the dinner I made down the drain untouched. “Go to college here, with the money you saved and work during the day. That was the plan.”

“Mom you’re asking me to give up UCLA for night classes at community college just to keep the stupid shop open?” I looked at my own plate, and the acid churning in my stomach ruined my appetite. “I thought you wanted me to be someone, mom. Being special isn’t that what you keep telling me to be?”

“You can be special, Gabriel. But you don’t need to go to California to do it. Finish school here, then get a good job before you give up the shop. Your father would want it that way.”

“Fine!” I snap, getting up and squeezing past her to throw my food out too. I take the letter, crumple it up and throw it into the trash, then scrape my plate on top of it. “I’ll stay here and take care of you. Just like I always do.”

I don’t want to hear her anymore. I grab my jacket and leave. Heading into the night with no idea where I’m going or why I’m trying so hard to make that woman happy. I hate her nearly as much as I hate my father. If she died, I’d be free.

Characters: Gabriel
Fandom: Heroes
Rating: PG
Word Count: 563
Note: After Gabriel kills Brian and Elle saves him. Before Sylar.
Prompt for scifi_muses
Who Are You? the Who

My fingers were shaking as I tried to open up the shop. Dropped the keys three times before I managed to shove the right key in place, and I was lucky I’d forgotten to put all of them in place. Resting my forehead against the thick glass of the door, I took a few deep breaths watching the glass steam over while I tried to collect my thoughts. The door opened with a press of my shoulder, but it took less pressure than it normally did. It liked to stick when the weather was wet, and it had been a rainy March. But it opened so fast, I nearly lost my balance.

It was stuffy and dank inside of my shop. I did my best to keep it clean. You can’t work on clocks with dust and cobwebs getting in the works, but I could never get the smell of damp out of it. But the carpet was old, it’d been there when my father opened the place, and that was a long, long time ago. There was a bright clean spot on it now though from where I’d scrubbed until my fingers were raw to get Brian’s blood out of it.

Reaching behind me as I shut the door, I flipped over the open sign and flicked on the lights. I was late. I was never late, but I’d had more important things to do this morning than open the shop. My knees hurt from the hours I’d spent praying for forgiveness for my sins. When I sank down behind my workbench I caught my reflection in a small mirror, and I didn’t recognize myself anymore. Who was I becoming?

I’d sinned, twice if you counted the attempted suicide. Elle saved me, but had she really? There was a monster crawling under my skin. Rubbing across the veins of my wrist, I thought about slashing them open, and letting my blood stain the carpet. Bleeding out had to be easier than a noose. I wonder if it hurts.

My soul is in tatters. I’ve murdered. I’ve tried to kill myself, and I couldn’t stop thinking about trying again. The monster was hungry, and I didn’t know what to do to stop it. I was scared, too scared to step into the confessional to beg for forgiveness. I didn’t want Father Tribiani to know what I’ve done. He’d given me my first Communion. What would he do when he found out I’d killed a man? Wrapping my arms around my stomach I curled into a ball, fighting back the need to puke. I dug through my tools, searching for something sharp enough to open my veins.

“RING, CLANG, BUZZ, COO COO, BONG!!!”

Every clock in the shop went off at once. Every single alarm, every single coo coo clock and grandfather chimed in to tell me it was noon. My heart pounded like a trapped rabbit, and I jerked so hard I knocked over a tray of clockwork gears the Swiss Army knife flew through the air. Getting up I spun in a circle looking at all the clocks.

“What?” I glanced at my watch. It was ten, but they’d all been set for noon. I heard giggling from the street, and looked out to see a gathering of the neighborhood kids. “Why?”

“April fools!” They shouted before running out into the streets.