Q&A time! In this particular story I'm not really treating Gabriel/Sylar as two distinct personalities. I think there's a very valid argument in that Gabriel could have been mentally ill like Nikki, but I look at them as just being two sides to the same person. Gabriel and Sylar are one functional mind, but the differences between the two personas kind of mirror that duality of good and evil that sort of exists in everybody. Where Gabriel isn't always entirely innocent, he holds on to the more emotional aspects of humanity. Sylar, the alter ego, on the other hand who isn't always entirely evil, is really almost an extension of the hunger and his ability. Even though he comes off as being rational and collected, he's also more primal and instinctually driven. As time goes on Gabriel/Sylar becomes more and more in control of (all) his abilities so the influence of the hunger kind of diminishes as he gets used to it (it's still pretty much his driving force though). Since this story was supposed to take place in the beginning though when he hadn't learned that level of control yet I wanted to make the hunger and the differences between Gabriel/Sylar more pronounced. It's kind of an ambiguous concept that's really hard to get down on paper so if I failed too miserably let me know and I can find a way to rewrite the last chapter or something.
That being said - this chapter is admittedly kind of jacked up. But I really wanted to get in that sense of time passing by so this is the best that I could do.
March 30, 2006
A harsh chuckle bubbled out of him, slowly morphing into deranged laughter that pierced the chilled air. Noah stared in unabashed bewilderment. Claire could only look on with a blank expression of shock for what had just transpired. The cracked cackling of a mad man drifted subtly into the slyest of smirks as the bullet held stationary before him fell to clink on the floor.
His aim had been true - a shot of deadly accuracy pin pointed to the space directly between the eyes. But what they hadn't counted on was that during his time of looking down the barrel of the gun, his ability had been processing the mechanics of the inevitable projectile. He knew the path of its spinning trajectory, and all the where and how that would bring the bullet into his grasp. All to catch it within the field of his telekinesis.
Sylar climbed to his feet, looming over them with an aura darker than the room around them. Nice try. "I love you too, Claire Bear," the hunger sneered with cruel amusement. His hand lifted, and Noah fired again until his magazine was emptied, the unused casings ineffectively deflected to scatter over the floor. Sylar made to slash at the material of space the Company man occupied and Claire jumped in front of him, bringing her father into a protective hug to thwart the attack.
And then the world around them dissolved away in a shuddering ripple of time and space.
Sylar blinked a few times into the darkness as time resumed its course. A long gash appeared in the wall before him, but Bennet and Claire had disappeared in an instant without trace. A muffled 'How?' escaped him as he searched out the source of the unlikely escape in futility.
Noah stumbled around, temporarily blinded by the dry sunlight of the Texas plains. "Claire?" He whirled about a few times only to find himself alone somewhere outside of Odessa. It was the first time that he had ever teleported and the effects of the space jump were slightly disorienting. The Company man found his way home inside of an hour, but it would take him years to figure out how he had gotten there or that a young man named Hiro Nakamura had saved his life.
"Holy shit, man," the guy working the counter of the pawn shop rasped. "You look like hell."
He felt worse. Escaping Primatech had been the easy part. Removing the bullet that had lodged itself in his thigh had required diligent patience and probably more than a healthy amount of alcohol. The hotel room that he had broken in to had been a welcome sight, a place to bandage his wounds and soak up as much sleep as possible after a steamy shower. Despite the slight limp that he was forced to walk with until the gun shot wound healed, barring serious infection, Sylar felt that he would fully recover with a little time. Time away seemed like the best option considering the state of affairs that he found himself in.
"How much can I get for this?" he asked placing the engagement ring that he had recovered on the counter top for inspection. Sylar pulled out a brochure for Paris to show his business consort. "I've got a lot of traveling to do."
"Hello, Chandra." The geneticist instantly tensed at the familiar voice of his cab fare. They're parting of ways some months before hadn't exactly been the most amicable. But what was he to do? When every other name on the lists that he had worked so hard to develop began to mysteriously disappear, usually within days of being introduced to his Patient Zero, he found no other option than to cut off the source.
"Gabriel," he greeted back without turning around.
"You abandoned me, Chandra," Sylar started, the smirk coming out in his voice as the scientist did his best not to squirm. "But that's not what I'm here for." Suresh's eyes flickered to him in the rear view mirror as he pulled out a file from his coat with the name Claire Bennet printed on its cover. "I know you won't remember, there are just too many scars," Sylar quirked his head at him, reading into the workings of his mind, "but we've had a discussion about this before."
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Suresh rebuked. "Now please leave."
Sylar shrugged his shoulders with a grim chuckle. "Point proven, Doctor." He seemed content to examine his subject for a moment in tense silence before speaking again. "You'll never stop, will you." It was stated so much more as a fact than a real question. He glanced down at the worn photo of Claire, abused and frayed around the edges from use, and she smiled back at him as she always did. A lot of people had become invested in the protection of her identity from exposure, but he was the first willing to do what was necessary. It had been almost five months since he had seen her, but keeping her safe was a priority that never wanted to end.
As he stepped out from the cab, Chandra's neck having been broken after a few well earned bashes, he spared a look for his wrist watch. Slightly bemused, he noticed that its face had been cracked down the center and the time remained stuck at 11:53 P.M. Laughter bubbled out of him for the irony. The original that Claire had brought for him to repair really had been identical in every way, right down to the date. September 28, 2006, at seven minutes to midnight.
"Wow, you're right," he said placing his plate of pancakes down. "These are incredible. I'm sorry to interrupt this little Hallmark moment, but we had a deal. You tell me everything you know."
Hiro mostly avoided Charlie's look of incredulity that he would make any kind of deal with the monster. "Yes. I will tell you how you die. You die alone. I'm sorry."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"It means that you will collect a lot of powers. You will kill many people. You will become strong. The strongest of them all. But in the end, it won't make any difference. We all gather to stop you. You alone. No one will mourn your death. No one will shed a tear. No one. I wish I could change fate, but you must go on your path."
And then he reappeared in the alley as he had been before without trace of the strange Japanese guy to be found. Had he not seen a similar disappearing act before within the confines of Primatech, Sylar never would have given his words heed. But if this Hiro could indeed manipulate the matter of time and space then it was plausible that he would hold such valuable information as to make their unlikely partnership practical. Oddly enough, the relationship also served to remove his desire for the waitress's memory ability. Once he had cured her ailment, the hunger had dissipated. Of course that discomfort had been quickly replaced with the awkwardness that came along with being a third wheel so to speak. Watching Hiro and Charlie embrace after her death defying ordeal had stirred within him another yearning. The hole in his being that was not driven by the need for power, but for the fulfillment that only comfort taken in another human being could sate. It dredged up memories that he had committed to shoving by the wayside of Claire and all that they had shared together. He used to hold her that way.
The news of his death was unsettling to say the least. As Sylar looked down on the black ball cap that he held in his hands he wondered however briefly if it were too late to change his ways. Cheerleaders parading down the street, raising the enthusiasm of their spectators sounded in the distance, and his mission once more became resolute. If he could locate the Jackie Wilcox that had somehow managed to walk through fire without being burnt, then he could adopt her regenerative ability. He could be like Claire after all. He could find her, and show her that she didn't have to be alone. He would have all the time in the world that it would take for her to forgive him for what he had had to do.
He wouldn't die alone if he could never die.
A smirk curled in the corner of his mouth. It had been just too convenient to have happened across another Regen so close to Claire. Unfortunately for Jackie Wilcox, she hadn't been as inconspicuous about it as Claire. The news paper articles, the television spot for the local news, the occupancy of an entire trophy case in the main hall of Union Wells all boasting about her heroic bravery gave him all the information he needed. Sylar knew her face, her voice, her whereabouts thanks to her status as a cheerleader, and most importantly, the improbability that she would have been able to survive such a fire without the aid of a very special ability. An ability that would make him like Claire.
Lingering in the shadows he had watched over the group of pom-pom toting girls as they exited the locker room to head towards the football field. There were plenty of pretty blonde heads in the giggling crowd, but not the one he was seeking. Sylar slipped in through the doors before they closed and locked. A nasally, obnoxious voice echoed back to him off the walls and rows of metal lockers. The voice that could bring him one step closer to perfection. Bingo.
She was arguing with someone. Her tone rose to a higher pitch with tension, but the other voice remained low and calm, indecipherable within all the obstructions of the locker room. He could tell that it was another young female though and likely not a threat. Flipping the light switch plunged the room into darkness serving both the purpose of surprise and protection of his identity from the other girl. "Public schools suck!"
Following Jackie's ceaseless chatter made locating the girl an easy task. Sylar waited for her to pass by the row of lockers he was lurking about and snatched her as soon as she wandered into range. He hoisted her up against the line of steel compartments by the jaw, studying her face to make sure that he had gotten the right one because she didn't feel like the others had. There wasn't anything out of the ordinary about her that he could immediately detect. The other girl had a bit of fight in her. She jumped on his back, looping her arms around his neck to pull him away from her friend. It was sort of a knee-jerk reaction really to fling her away as he had. Acquiring enhanced strength from James Walker had been an interesting experience to say the least. He had snapped off door handles, jerked a car door clean off of its hinges and accidentally crushed numerous items by forgetting for a second that he had to carefully control the force of the ability. He knew the moment that he had thrown the girl off and heard her body break against the wall behind him that he had most likely killed her, or at the very least gravely injured her. He hadn't meant to do it, but what was done, was done and there was no taking it back. So he continued with his primary objective.
The line was carved over her forehead, the blood from the wound streaming down her face as she gasped in pain. There was power nearby. He could feel it. And yet, something wasn't quite right.
Sylar heard the bone snap first and he paused. Following Jackie's eyes towards something behind him when she whispered for someone to run, he felt his heart stop in mid beat. Claire? There she was, the one he had accidentally thrown into the wall, standing very much alive with the disfigurement of crushed bones in her face stitching themselves back to perfection. Blood and all, it was most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. Until she ran.
He had immediately dropped Jackie's body when had seen her there. Something like dread crept into his stomach, realizing that the other cheerleader hadn't been the Regen he was searching for after all. It was an unfortunate misunderstanding that years later would seem almost tragically humorous, but in the meantime there was only shame. He had never wanted her to see what he was forced to do. And he had certainly never meant to harm her in the process. But how do you tell the woman you're in love with that murdering her friend in front of her after bashing her skull in was just an accident?
For all of his knowledge and power he had no idea. They didn't exactly make greeting cards for such things.
So he did what any emotionally dumbstruck idiot would do. He followed her blindly.
Seeing her run into the welcome arms of another man didn't help. Jealousy and fury surged forward. The sudden emotional instability wrought havoc on his abilities, half formed thoughts violently ripping locker doors from their hinges to be hurled at the retreating back.
Claire, the unrequited words stuck in his throat, I didn't mean it. Please come back. I'm sorry.
Before he could even fully register what was happening he had somehow ended up on top of the Union Wells building. Just as he was ready to call out to her, her male companion grabbed hold of him and jumped. Somewhere between the surprise of what had just happened and realizing that the concrete hurdling upward to greet him did not bode well, Sylar snapped back to reality enough to attempt to slow his descent. The guy gripping him let go, falling with a sickening thud just before he smacked into the ground on top of him.
He gave himself a minute to groan from what felt like the worst belly buster dive in history before he rolled over and climbed to his feet. The guy next to him was without a doubt dead having been twisted about into some awkward angles that even made his stomach nauseas to look at. "What the fuck?" he demanded of the dead body. "Who does that?" After popping a nasty crick from his neck Sylar didn't feel above giving his near killer a swift kick in the side for all the good it did him. "Moron."
"You're not going anywhere, Gabriel," Bennet gloated from the viewing port of his cell.
"My name is Sylar."
"Now it is. It wasn't so long ago that you were Gabriel Gray, an insignificant watch maker." The pain in his side forced a hiss of pain out of him as he slid from his bed to face the older man. He never wanted to give Bennet the impression that he had somehow won something in any of their encounters.
"I restored time pieces," he corrected calmly, analyzing the circumstances of his situation. "You know why I was so good at it?"
"No, why don't you tell me."
"Because I can see how things work. What makes them... tick." Noah gave him that condescending smile of mild boredom that he hated so much. "Like you."
"We're interested in how things work as well. Everyone else we've met has had only one ability. You've taken on several."
Several since the last time you had me strapped to a table. "I guess that's what makes me special."
"That's important to you, isn't it," Bennet smirked. "Being special." He emphasized the word special just like his mother used to do, a vicious stab at what his life had been before.
"It's important to everyone."
"I think you're insane. I think the infusions of so many alterations to your DNA has corrupted your mind. All this power is degrading you."
"And yet, here I am alive and well, and as soon as I'm out I going to collect one more ability from your daughter." The expression of gloating was wiped clean off of Noah's face. Yes, Sylar knew exactly what made him tick and where to strike that would hurt most. "Sweet, innocent -"
"That's enough."
"Ripe. Indestructible."
"I said that's enough, Gabriel!"
"My name is Sylar!" The sly smirk of the Company man returned the moment his hands struck the glass in frustration. He had tipped his hand too early, and Noah knew that he was full of shit. Claire's father was the only one that could press his buttons as well he did in turn. Perhaps he should have continued on, told him exactly how much he had enjoyed his daughter's body in multiple ways, how she had whimpered his name when he was inside of her, but the thought didn't appeal to him until after Bennet had shut the lights off and left. Slumping back onto his cot, biting his lip to keep from groaning in pain, he did wonder how long Noah had simmered over their physical relationship. There had been two cameras stashed in his apartment that he had found during cleaning it out, one of which he knew for sure had probably captured a few of their more intimate moments. On the couch, on the floor, on the table, in virtually each of the chairs that he owned... Hopefully Virginia wouldn't find him making his big break in the world as part of a study on the mating habits of 'specials' featured in Scientific America.
"I told Claire to get a move on. She said she'd be back soon."
"Cheerleader, huh?" I never did think it suited her very well.
"Co-captain by junior year," Sandra boasted with pride in her voice.
"Wow." He was really only paying her half attention, most of it being on the portrait of Claire before him. He liked that picture. She was all sun kissed skin and golden curls in it like he remembered.
"Oh, not so much these days. They dissolved the team because of some horrible event at the school."
"I heard about that. That must have been hard on poor Claire." Sandra paused in her vegetable dicing, intuitively picking up on something inappropriate. So maybe blatantly fishing for clues on Claire's well being since their last ill fated meeting hadn't been the most tactful of moves.
"You are awfully interested in my daughter."
"Well, ever since I seen what she can do I guess you could say that I'm a… fan. She's really quite gifted."
"Oh, you've been to a game?"
"Yeah, I guess I have. I just couldn't get over those irresistible… talents of hers." And the open fawning didn't help. Faux southern charm or no, the alarm bells were ringing at full blast in Sandra's eyes. He felt like he was being lectured by Suresh all over again - as if he didn't realize for himself the gravity of the situation.
I should have just waited in her bedroom. While the context had been considerably different at the time, he was being completely serious when he said that he wanted to meet Claire's mother. The reality had torn apart a great deal of the imaginings though. Talking with Sandra had been comfortable, and while she really was a likable woman, the revelation that Claire was much more like her father was endlessly annoying. If nothing else the experience offered a wonderful opportunity to screw with Bennet which was rapidly becoming his favorite past time.
In retrospect, the experience also served to teach him two valuable lessons. Number one being that as he lay undercover in an alley a few blocks from the house nursing Bennet bullet wound two, he officially hated being shot. Number two, he really needed to rethink his methods on getting Claire back.
Alone, in the dark of his cell, Sylar mulled over all the implications of what Angela had just told him. He had a family. Granted, it was probably another lie in a list too long to mention, but a part of it made a strange amount of sense. He could pass for a Petrelli brother with little effort. He was tall like Nathan, but built perhaps a little more like Peter. He had the dark hair and eyes, and the ability fit in somewhat. Arthur and Peter both had been able to consume multiple powers in their own ways, Arthur's being almost as brutal as his own.
That meant that he had a mother again in Angela. The thought of being accepted and becoming a part of a real family brightened his spirits considerably. He had a mother, and a father, and two pain in the ass brothers. He had somewhere he belonged and fit in for the first time in his life. And when he eventually got Claire back they could...
Sylar's blood froze solid in his veins. Claire... Nathan's daughter, Claire... Nathan, his brother's daughter, Claire... Oh, Christ, he had been sleeping with his own niece. She wasn't just underage jail bait - she was blood related jail bait, which meant that he wasn't just a pervert - he was a disgusting, incestuous pervert. His hand clutched at his stomach when it rumbled for impending disaster.
The sounds of his hacking and gagging echoed back to him from the wash basin that caught his heaves. More and more of the putrid contents of his stomach were emptied every time he turned over another thought of how much of a revolting deviant he had become. He was in love with his own flesh and blood. He had taken advantage of her in ways that... And Angela had known about it. Sylar halted his vomiting long enough to remember his round about interactions with the Petrellis through Claire before the Primatech disaster. They had set it up. They had set up the operations that planted Claire in his life and they knew...
Another round of heaves wretched bile from the pit of his gut. They all knew what he had done to her, to Claire, and not a word of reproach had been spoken. He wasn't being shoved away for the monster that he was, he was being welcomed back with loving arms.
"What the fuck kind of family am I in?"
Sylar leaned back on the kitchen stool to grab another piece of candy from the bowl on the counter. "You know what, Mr. Muggles?" he spoke to the dog that had come along to inspect his shoestrings. He bent over to pick up the miniature dog, giving it a few pats on the head as he held it in his lap. "I think you're the only one in this family that I like." He wistfully glanced over at the pantry doors that Claire had chained shut from the inside. She wasn't going to come out anytime soon. "I mean really," he pointed out the lunacy of the situation, "does she think I can't get in there if I want to?" He sighed as he grabbed another piece of candy, wondering what it was that kept him from just blowing the doors off. "As Bennet once told me," he spoke conspiratorially to the dog, "women are insane." Insane enough to plant a butcher knife in the chest of a serial killer as it turned out.
"What are you doing to me?"
"Looking for answers before I bleed to death."
"Funny. I'm looking for answers too." He rolled his eyes at her typical sarcastic obstinacy. Between her childish antics and the shard of stainless steel collapsing his lung, his irritable mood wasn't getting any better. "Why don't I feel anything?"
"No nerve endings," he explained, slightly more upbeat knowing that she wasn't in pain. "An amazing bit of machinery, this. And how much of it do we really use? Ten percent? Maybe, twenty? Imagine the answers we'd have with a hundred percent." Another twinge made him whimper in pain. "Why is there evil? How many angels can dance on the head of a pin? …How do we make love stay?
"All these answers… They're all right here."
"Are you gonna eat it?"
"Eat your brain?" Her sudden question caught him off guard and disturbed his dissection of the most beautiful cortex he'd ever seen. That was an issue that he had to address right away. Having her run around with twisted beliefs that he was some kind of zombie cannibal was just… pathetic. "Claire, that's disgusting."
"Wait." Sylar instantly paused as if something deep, deep inside of him gave no choice other than to heed the girl's command. It almost felt like hope. "What about me? Aren't you going to kill me?"
"Poor girl. There's so much about yourself that you don't even understand. Your brain is not like the others, Claire. You are not like the others." You mean something to me. "You're different. You're special. And I couldn't kill you even if I wanted to."
Being inside of Claire's brain was quite possibly the most intimate experience of his life, a close second being the first time that they had made love. Hidden within the healthy pink tissues were all the answers to her mystery. Maybe it wasn't the finite explanation that he really wanted, but it was enough to know that the girl laid out before him was not his. She hadn't forgotten about him or cast him aside because she had never been his to do so in the first place. Theories potentially involving a nuisance time traveler began to take shape.
"Are you okay?"
"Peachy," she grit at him annoyance.
"Targets gone," he informed Noah after a quick survey.
"He can't be far." Sylar knew that the Company man wanted nothing more than to run off after Canfield as if the vortex hadn't happened, but catching his gaze he gave the slightest of nods towards Claire. Dealing with her was more important for the time being. "Claire, where did Mr. Canfield go?"
"Leave him alone. He doesn't want to hurt anyone."
"This isn't a game. He's very dangerous."
"Who are you to talk? Bringing him here?" The look of pure disgust that she leveled on him stung. "Tell me you're not working with him after what he did to me!" Even after saving her life, Claire was reluctant to give him the benefit of a doubt. Half a doubt would have been a blessing. A part of him almost wished he'd let her fall in. But only almost. If he hadn't saved her then the future version of herself would never exist. And if she didn't exist, then his Claire would never come back.
"I know you hate me. I understand. When I touched your hand I could feel the pain that I caused you, and I never meant for you to -"
"Shut your mouth, now. You don't get to talk to her. Ever." Of course, if Noah had his way, Sylar's Claire would never exist regardless of what he did.
"Don't you love a good Pinot?" he teased.
"My dad's on his way," she threatened back in vain. "He's going to stop you, and then I'm going to kill you."
"No. Actually, I'm going to kill him. Or have you kill him. I haven't decided yet. Don't give me that look," he scoffed as he whirled her back around. He recognized that look. It was one that be longed to his Claire, not that one. "Everybody dies sometime. Well, almost everybody. Papa Petrelli, Mama Bennet, Mr. Muggles," he teased again as he walked her back towards him. "What's your brother's name again? Larry?"
"Lyle."
"Lyle, right." Sylar never could remember the kid's name. He was just that… forgettable really. "He's gonna die too. As we speak my father's dying. "Did I tell you I got to meet my real dad? Boy, was that a disappointment. Have you ever stopped to think about how much we have common, Claire?" He pushed a glass of wine her way.
"You were adopted. I was adopted. You can't die. I can't die." Sylar clinked their glasses together with a trace of a smile.
"Oh, you can die. I'll make sure of it."
His smile evaporated as he forced her to sip the wine with him, recalculating the approach. Claire always had a way of gumming up the works when he was around her. He was just supposed to shake the President's hand. That's all. His mother had always told him that he could be president, and it was supposed to be a simple, in and out job. No unnecessary violence required. But there she was as always, hell bent on ruining his day, and bringing Bennet along for the joy ride.
Sometimes he wondered what it was that he had ever seen in her. Perhaps he wore a set of rose colored glasses when he thought about Claire, but Sylar never remembered her being so damn hateful. All. The. Time. He knew she could be a righteous pain in the ass when she was really motivated to be so, but the version of her sitting beside him… The brattiness of her teen years was enough to make him reconsider the whole relationship.
"You'll get bored after like a hundred years of trying to off me and watching all of your loved ones drop like flies. You may eventually come to forgive me. Maybe you'll even love me."
"I'll keep trying to kill you for the rest of my life."
Swing and a miss. "Well, everybody needs a hobby." Sylar took another drink of his wine, trying to remain patient with the little ice queen. "I'm not saying that there aren't bridges that need to be built. But if we start building them now… Who knows? You could be my first, first lady."
He palmed her jaw, leaning in for a kiss. "I will never stop hating you." Admittedly he might have lost some of his patience when he clamped her jaw shut a little tighter than it needed to be.
"Be careful not to make promises you can't keep, little Claire Bear." Sounds of two pairs of feet coming up the hallway outside alerted him to the expected intrusion. "Oh, look, the Scooby Gang wants to join in our fun." He rolled his eyes and leapt off the couch to face his enemies. Unfortunately an after thought for the teen witch struggling against his bonds dredged up the old familiar want. However irritating she was, Claire was still Claire. And that meant that he could get away with throwing her at a wall if it was in the process of getting her out of harm's way.
"What's it doing?"
"Stop thinking," Samuel hissed as he watched the ink swirl turbulently about. "Stop trying to force it. Just let it happen."
Easier said than done. For a mind that is always thinking of something, however subtle or subconscious, gathering all manner of data for consumption - not thinking is quite literally not possible. Sylar closed his eyes and did his best to push it all away, to sink into the gentle warmth of the ink as it traversed his flesh. The sights, the sounds, the smells, thoughts, emotions, memories, and lies all fell away as static. But there was one part of him that refused to be pushed back into the darkness.
"Well isn't that interesting," Samuel pondered from over his shoulder.
"I guess you were wrong." Sylar pulled his shirt back on with a haste that wasn't exactly typical of immortals. "I don't belong here."
It was finally time to meet his destiny.
To be continued...