Title: Empty Memory
Genre: Romance / Angst
Rating: T
Pairing: Sylar x OC
Spoilers: N/A
Summary: You will forget. To remember any portion of it, any word, will cause you pain, terrible pain, growing more terrible as you fight to remember.
Word Count: 1,026
Warnings: Weird timeline.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Summary is from Star Trek: The Original Series.
A/N: I am pretending Heroes: Reborn doesn't exist.
In every journey, the traveler must ask: was the right path taken? Many roads are long and winding, filled with those who have lost their way. Some forge their own course, guided by faith; seeking not a location, but a kindred soul. Others step together, finding safety in the arms of another. A few remove themselves from the trail, to avoid the path of temptation. But those who watch the track too closely fail to see where it led them. They're often all too surprised by the destination.
In her dreams there was no face. But there was the smell of oil and a musky scent like a man's cologne. There was the coppery smell of blood; metallic and cloying and so thick in the air she could taste it on her tongue. The outline of the man was blurry, but the imprint of him was still there, even after she awakens. She didn't know his face, or his name, or the sound of his voice. But she could feel calloused hands against her own, the thrumming of power beneath her hands. And always she could hear ticking, ticking, ticking...
A time blares so suddenly that Evelyn Taylors upsets the cup of coffee she is pouring, spilling darkly, scented liquid spilling towards the counter's edge. "Shit!"
"You gathering wool again, Taylors?"
She throws a rueful glance over her shoulder, but doesn't take her gaze away from her task: trying to make sure nothing drips on the floor. "Oh ha-ha, Brad, don't try and help me or anything." Task accomplished, she turns to pin him with a narrowed, chocolate-eyed glare.
He leers. "I like the view better from back here," he says, with a waggle of his eyebrows.
An eye roll. "You pig." But she isn't upset. That's just the way he is. It's the way a lot of people are in the hospitality industry, honestly, even the coffee house where she works now. Something about the long hours, the menial labor for tips, the mutual hatred of entitled customers, made you so close to your coworkers that you just rolled with things.
"You love me." He's already turning back towards the seating area, eyes scanning the room in an impassive way, looking for tables to bus, tips to pick up, coffees to refill. Seeing nothing that needs his immediate attention, his gaze swings back to her. "So… what were you thinking about so intensely?" He grins. "Anything good?"
She laughs and swats at his arm. "You think my life is much more exciting than it is, you know?" She leans against the counter, straightening coasters with intensity. She's silent for a moment, gathering her thoughts. "I have the same dream a lot," she finally admitted.
Brad blinks. "Really? I've never had the same dream twice, not exactly anyway." He leans on his elbows, crowding in closer, giving her his undivided attention. "What was it about?"
She shrugs. "I don't know. It's just – images, or impressions. I don't know. A clock. Lots of clocks. The room smells like Murphy Oil and… Axe? Or something."
His eyes brighten. "So there's a man?"
Evie is quiet, thinking. She can still feel rough hands against her own, and the dream-memory makes her shiver. "I don't know, it's just a dream –"
"Excuse me?"
The both jump, surprised at the polite voice, and turn towards the counter, server-smiles plastered onto their faces. "Hi there!" She says in false cheer. "How may I help you today?"
The man smiles, slow and satisfied. "I'd like a small coffee, please. Black."
He reaches up to adjust a pair of horn-rimmed glasses with practiced ease, and the light glints off the winder against the lenses, momentarily blinding Evie, who feels herself go rigid with memory. There were glasses like that in her dream, light flashing in her eyes right before she sees a dark hand outstretched towards her face. There is a searing pain shooting through her skull
"That'll be $2.50, sir," Brad says. "And she'll have your coffee right out to you."
Evie snaps back to reality with a start, head throbbing. She gives herself a mental shake and smiles at the man. "On it!"
He smiles again. "Thank you very much." He peers intently at her nametag, glasses glinting like the sun on water. "Evelyn."
"Evelyn! Gabriel! Come back here!" The angered voice of Virginia Gray is fading even as she's calling for the two children who are running pell-mell down the street.
The young boy, maybe nine, grabs her wrist and tugs her into a side alley. Following blindly, the pair make their way down to a dead end, before climbing a fire escape up to the roof. When they're reached the summit of their tower, they pause, breathing heavily. One glance at each other and they erupt into laughter.
"Did you see my mom's face?" Gabriel is alight with mirth, eyes shining.
"You're not gonna get in trouble, are you?" Evie knew she wouldn't get in trouble, Gabriel's mom loved her, but she was worried that he might get grounded and then she wouldn't have anyone to play with.
"Nah." He grinned. "I'm just gonna tell her that it was your idea."
"Hey!" Before he can see her move, she leaps on him, tackling him to the ground. They roll over and over in a tangle of arms and legs. They're giggling and laughing as they play, children in the glow of their youth. When they finally come to a stop, Gabriel is sprawled on his back with Evie beside him, their arms are spread-eagled. As they huff to catch their breath, Evie's voice, quiet and young, breaks the silence. "We'll always be friends, right?"
There is no pause before he answers. "Of course!"