Written for comment_fic on livejournal.
AU Set 5 years in the future
I think about destiny differently than I used to. It used to be about the wonder of grabbing a new power, the belief that these powers might transform me, might finally allow me to leave myself behind.
But now I find that I'm clinging to my old self. And the idea of a great destiny feels like vines growing up my legs, like something monstrous swallowing me up.
Just a few years ago, I denied my doubt, my conflict. I had such a clear mission. I even thought of it as self-betterment at the time, as bodies kept piling up around me.
But even then, there were telltale signs. Like the fact that I spent my life focused on hunting down my enemy. Who also happened to be my lover. Trying to kill him, occasionally sparing him, trying to dominate him with sex, trying to dominate him any way I could, getting new powers just so I could be better than him.... It was an obsession, I can admit now.
Unfortunately, it's an obsession I'm still burdened with. But in the shape I am taking now, Nathan's shape -- as in President Nathan Petrelli's shape, I can see him whenever I want. I had him thrown in prison with strict orders that I am the only visitor he is allowed.
And every time I see him, he is bitter and enraged. He knows it is me, but no one will listen to him. And the drugs suppress his powers, so I can let him punch and push and yell to his heart's content. And he exhausts himself, and ends up on the ground, seething.
And then I reward myself for my patience. I take him in whatever way I can think of. And he says "You bastard, you fucking sick bastard," as he cries. And he tells me that he wouldn't want to touch me ever again if he were able to leave his cell. But he doesn't resist. And he always comes first. And then he just lies there, ashamed of himself for needing to be fucked.
I act nonchalant with him, but truthfully, I am afraid.
Mostly, it's the fear that I am becoming something even worse than what I have been in the past.
The fear of the horrors that still lie within me, that might still be loosed. The dark dystopian landscape of the damaged psyche.
And like most truly powerful men, I have made the external world look as torn and bleak as my internal one. I hesitate to imagine what harm I will do next.
It's this fear that is strange, though. I used to be so determined, so certain. Maybe it's that I have so much power now, the only logical thing to be afraid of is myself.
Or maybe I spend too much time thinking about my obsession, my old enemy and still-lover. Maybe being with him just reminds me of my past foolishness, when I believed in saving people. Maybe I'm spending too much time with him, the only man left alive who knows that I'm not really my brother. Maybe it's weakening me, making me afraid of the darkness.
Maybe I'll have to get rid of Sylar after all.