Memory
Author's Note: Piece of utter random crack.
Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes, or the tiny lyrics I used from the Shinedown song 'Devour.'
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Angela brushed an imaginary dust devil off her sleeve. "You really need to work on your character, dear. You're starting to sound just to the teensiest bit whiny."
Claire just looked confused.
Peter and Sylar, leaning against a wall that just happened to be conveniently placed there (by a construction company called BrosB4Hos, if you must know), watched them. Sylar said, "That must be where I get it from," meaning Angela's cleanliness.
Peter gave him a look. "Man, where have you been? We're not related anymore!"
"What?!" Sylar exclaimed, shock in his dark eyes. "What the hell? What happened?"
"Dude, you, like, hunted down your father and then left him to die," Peter replied, wondering whether he'd hidden all of the drugs well enough. "That was ages ago."
"Oh," Sylar said, blinking in confusion. He did not remember it. For the life of him, he couldn't. "So...does this mean I can get Claire's power now without stepping on too many toes?"
Peter glanced up at the ceiling. He saw a spider. It wasn't radioactive (but you never can tell). "Dude," he repeated slowly, "you already got Claire's power, remember? You broke into her house and we finally discovered that you don't eat brains?"
Sylar looked seriously freaked. "I don't?!" He held up a small paper box with the words 'Brains R Us' on it. "Then what am I eating?"
Peter sniffed the box. "Chicken, I think."
Sylar's eye widened dramatically. "I thought it tasted familiar!" They narrowed instantly. "They lied to me!"
Peter patted him sympathetically on the shoulder. "There, there," he said soothingly as Sylar fumed beside him. "We'll go punish them later."
Sylar paused. "Wait. If we're not brothers, why are you being so nice to me?"
An expression of such hurt that it made even Sylar cringe crossed Peter's face. "You don't remember that?" He sniffed and felt tears welling up behind his lids. "We're married, you idiot! And we have a son!"
"Wait, wait. I know this," Sylar mumbled, closing his eyes and licking his lips in concentration. "His name's...uh, it's...uh...Noah! That's it, right?" He looked over at Peter hopefully.
"You remember," Peter said, his smile making Sylar feel all melty.
"Well..." Sylar smirked. "I might need a few reminders..."
Peter's grin was positively evil.
"Gran, have you even been watching me?" Claire said, ignoring her uncle and his husband doing the nasty just a few feet away. "I've been whiny my whole life! Are you just noticing now?" She looked hurt.
Angela, also ignoring what was turning into some good entertainment over by the wall (the spider was fascinated), gazed at her granddaughter. "Well, I haven't actually seen you since you were a baby so, yeah."
Claire sobbed, her tears of pain and teen angst leading the spider to shoot fiery beams from its tiny eyes in her direction. "No one cares abo—Ow!" She rubbed her forehead, her hand coming away bloody. She turned to scream bloody murder at Sylar.
"What the hell?!"
Sylar pushed Peter hurriedly. "Claire's seen us!" he hissed. "Go to Phase Two!"
Peter's smile was blinding. "You do remember!"
"Phase Two! Phase Two!"
"Oh. Yes." Peter teleported them out of there, post haste.
"The...image is...permanently burnt...onto my brain..." Claire mumbled, trying and failing to get rid of it. "I am going to get a COMPLEX!!"
Angela snorted, and noticed another imaginary dust devil. She brushed it away before she said to Claire's adoptive father who's name she never bothered to remember, "That makes four already."
"Five, actually," Mr. Bennet said mildly, most of his attention directed at the screen in front of him. He, after much deliberation, moved his rook. "Remember that time with the chocolate sauce and Adam?"
Angela gave her lady like equivalent of a snort. "Oh, yes, how could I forget? That took her hours to scrub off the kitchen floor. Poor Hiro, he really was very embarrassed."
"Ha! Take that, you little Japanese Nazi!" Mr. Bennet exclaimed, jumping up and beginning to dance around the laptop. "Checkmate!" After a moment he gathered his dignity together and sat back down. "You were saying?"
"Devour, devour, suffocate your own empire! La, la, la...they're only toys...." Angela sang, her iPod firmly in place. If people wouldn't listen to her, she sure as hell wouldn't listen to them.
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My brain is a weird, but fun, place.
Review please.