(A/N)
Reviews people! Even if you hate it!!
Pretty please?
flutters eyelashes in very TEMPTING way
I
tried to read between the lines
I tried to look in your eyes
I
want a simple explanation
What I'm feeling inside
Strike me
down with lightning
Let me feel you in veins
I wanna let you
know how much I feel your pain
I don't want to ever love
another
You'll always be my thunder
So bring on the rain
And
bring on the thunder
Oh Baby, bring on the pain
And
listen to the thunder
-Thunder by Boys Like Girls
Sylar smirked devillishly to himself as he paused halfway up the ivory to catch his breath. In the still tiwlight evening his dark figure clutched to the side of the house faded conspicuously into shadows. He could almost laugh at those first few weeks of staying in Bray – where he sat in his room, petrified of using his powers in case someone caught on. It had taken him a while to realize no one gave a shit about him.
Well, Jane did, that was obvious, but Sylar had done a brillinat job of convincing her he didn't feel the same way.
The thought of Jane had him pausing, his eyes looking up at her bedroom window that revealed that there were no lights on. She was pleasantly ignorant to his doings.
How sweet, Sylar thought, stealing himself a smile, asleep by ten. Probably dressed in a skimpy night gown...
Sylar cleared his throat, readjusted the heavy duffle bag that was strung across his back, and continued his acscend.
The ivory was supported by white cross crossing boards over the north-west corner of the house, and made a perfect secret entrance to Sylar's room. All that was nessecary to do was to stick to the shaded side of the house, the side where Jane's widow faced, and then swing over to the other side once you were just below window level. Sylar was always a little nervous that Jane would one day decide to open her window as he was scaling the building, but it hadn't happened yet.
And it didn't happen that night.
Sylar opened his windows with his telekenisis, and slipped in as silent as a light breeze might.
He slipped his duffle bag off and threw it onto his bed as he sighed and stretched out his slightly pent up muscles.
Tonight was shorter then he had wanted, but Sylar knew from the line of rumbling black clouds that were charging towards Bray, that if he didn't get back to the house soon, he might get caught in what was predicted to be the first bad storm of autumn.
He left the window open, loving the way the air prickled with electricity right before storms. He always had, ever since he was a kid, and he still hadn't changed in that respect.
Running a hand through his black har, Sylar approached his bed.
The bag lay expectant and waiting for him, the glossy black material reflecting the room's light. Sylar smiled his anticipation as he took the zipper between his thumb and forefinger, and pulled it down the length of the bag. Gold and silver winked playfully up at him.
A full, if short, night's robbery.
It was sad that Sylar could only use his power's for petty theft. But he wasn't ready for his real ambitions. He knew that. His powers had been improving, going from infancy to child's play. For instance, the evil in him didn't rage totally out of control, like it had when he and Jane almost kissed. But it was still there, in a majorly dangerous way. The process was painfully slower then Sylar had expected, and everytime he thought he was getting close to having any kind of realy control or power, it all evaded him like sand through fingers.
Life's so not fair.
He stepped back from the bed now, and walked over to the large armchair. As he sat there, gripping the arms, he let his powers take over. A gold plated bowling trophy lifted out of the bag, and floated to the middle of the room.
Sylar watched it glitter as he spinned it in looping circles that grew larger, and quicker, as it went. Soon it was a gold blur skirting around the ceiling. As it went, Sylar liquified the bowler's head so that the gold suddenly splahed out on the walls. It reminded him of the blood that would spray out from his victim's wounds... Sylar could feel his pulse race, his head swim, and his mouth broaden evilly.
He easily broke the trophy into peices, listening to the satisfying thumps as it hit the carpet in five different places.
Next, Sylar brought out the art supplies that he had stolen from the art shop. Sylar let them float idly over to his chair as he looked out the window. The thunder was rumbling loudly now, and the sounds were close together. It wouldn't be long until Bray was flooded.
As the art book settled in Sylar's lap, the front cover gave way to a promising black page. The box of drawing pencils came and settled on the arm of the chair, the flap opening up and revealing the complex rainbow of colors.
Sylar took a few calming breaths as he removed a led pencil. His heart was thumping happilly, the hunger in him crying out for satisfaction.
It would be the first time Sylar was to attempt to draw the future, and in hindsight it was probably the starting point to the future he was about to paint. He hadn't attempted it before because in order to do so, he would have to slip into the trance that allowed the future to come through. Before he hadn't felt safe enough to be able to let himself loose like that, but after careful detatchment, no one bothered him now.
Sylar gripped the pad of paper and the pencil, shut his eyes tight, and waited...
The evil in him laughed mirthlessly as he began to feed it the knowledge it craved.
O-O-O-O-O-O-O
"Dear god. This can't be happening."
He was staring down at the A3 paper that had so recently been blank, and now depicted a future that couldn't possibly be true. Life wasn't that cruel.
Not her.
Sylar felt himself heave off the chair, the pencils falling off him and scattering across the floor. Sylar ran a hand through his dark hair as he stole frightened, frenzied glances at the image. The evil in him throbbed, as if laughing, as it took in the image. It was clear that it wanted that future to happen, and it had the good in him shying away from it even more.
It was a room that consisted only of a kingsized bed with two figures, a man and a woman, and a window that clearly showed the Empire State building. The man was seated, leaning against the headboard of the bed, his eyes shining in the moonlight as he looked out from the picture. His whole demeanor seemed to speak danger, triumph and protectiveness in the simple quirk of his lips. That man was Sylar.
The woman in painting lay flush against Sylar's side. Her hand rested against his bare chest, as her hair was being pulled away from her delicate face by Sylar's hands. She seemed to be laughing sweetly, her large brown eyes on Sylar's face like he was something of great desire. The covers were pulled up around her, suggesting a chill, but you could still see those ever so tempting curves through the dark green bedding. That woman was Jane.
Sylar let out another strangled cry as he ran forward, his eyes coming up only inches away from the painting.
This couldn't possibly be happening!
Where Sylar's left hand played through the soft strands of Jane's brown hair, a gold band winked. Sylar squinted, unable to take in the staggering possibility that he would... that she could... that they should...
Suddenly, Sylar could hear a base thumping hard from the street in front of the house.
For nothing else but a distraction, Sylar moved from the painting in jarred movements, and fell to the window sill, slutching hard to white edges as he sucked back the crisp air. His dark eyes searched the dimly lit front yard, and finally found the green monster that was causing the rucous.
It was a box car that shook from the trouble of running. From inside Sylar could hear the overwhelming RnB tunes, and idly wondered who Sasha was tooling around with this week. Turning on his keen hearing, Sylar could hear heated gasps and moans that accompanied a lot of wet smooches.
Sylar had just begun to turn away when he suddenly heard a voice that had his heart stopping.
"Doug," Jane Hart gasped. "Not now."
Doug sighed, and in a deep voice responded, "Why not, we've been going out a month."
This comment was met by silence broken only by the thumping music.
"I can't help it if I don't want to." Jane said in a cold voice.
"And I can't help it if I want to. You're such a tease."
Suddenly, the pair were kissing again, and Jane was mumbling quetly.
"I'm sorry, Doug." Jane sighed. "I can't help it, I'm in such a bad mood."
"Why are you always so hot-cold, Jane?" Doug asked, but Sylar could tell Doug couldn't give a toss for why, seeing as he could hear the boy sucking against Jane.
Jane was silent and the pair continued to kiss.
After awhile, in a hushed voice, she said, "Maybe I'll get over..." She choked momentarily then said in a sad voice, "Just don't break up with me, babe. You never know what will happen."
Sylar's rage was so overwhelming it renderred him momentarily blind. His hands grasped so hard to the window sill that it splintered in his palms. Everything seemed to pulse with this new energy as he tried to battle with the feelings inside.
My future bride... begging not to be dumped... by a randy youth... who listens to ghetto music... While I stay locked up in this... self built cage... thinking her too fragile... thinking myself not good enough... but if she's willing to sell herself off...
Every single impure thought, every ounce of lust, every bit of love in Sylar's heart, fed his powers past their point, and Sylar malisciously focussed his eyes on the bonnet of the car. Smiling visciously, he let his radio-active energy heat up the probably very expensive gear.
As the kissing inside intensified, so did Sylar's powers, and suddenly the front of the car was on fire.
"Wholy Fuck!" Doug was screaming as he threw open his door. "My friggen' car!"
Jane's door sprang open too, and Sylar watched with satisfaction as she stared with wide eyes at the quickly consuming fire. She was wearing a light blue dress that ran down her curved body, and her arms were wrapped in a dark blue sweater.
"Jane!" Doug cried out, his hands ripping though his har. "Get some friggen' water or something!"
Jane stared at her new beau like she was just realizing he was there, blinked a few times into clairty, and then nodded quickly.
She ran off to the side of the house, her eyes seemingly lost in their own thoughts. She disappeared from Sylar's view point for a few moments before popping up again with a hose on full blast in her hands.
She handed it to an urgent Doug, then stood off to the side, her arms wrapped around her cold and shaking body. From where Sylar was, he could tell she had managed to get doused by the hose water. How he wanted to wrap her up, warm her cold body with feverish kisses.
Before Sylar could pull away back into the house, Jane's face turned up towards his window. Sylar felt his whole body catch light as her brown eyes held him in position with a knowledgable sheen. Sylar quirked an evil simle at her, then slid away from her view. His eyes rested on the painting once more. Sylar stood standing there for quite some time.
O-O-O-O-O-O-O
Jane was helping a bemused Doug in through the front door as Sylar was hopping down off the bottom step. Her eyes flashed in his direction, then flicked off him with an air of anger. Not that Sylar cared, he was still riding off the rush of power, and being so close to Jane after so long was doing things to him. Her anger serving only to increase his feelings.
"Tough break," Sylar said to Doug, "I saw the car."
"Car," squeaked Doug as Jane lowered him onto a chair around the dining table. "It's a wreck!"
"Ah," Sylar said, giving Doug what could have been a comforting punch in the arm if he didn't hate the boy's guts. "You'll survive."
Maybe.
"I'm thirsty," Doug stated.
Jane who had been hovering worredly near the two men, snapped to attention and walked towards the kitchen. Sylar stood up straight, his eyes fixed on her still wet form hotly.
"Let me help you," he said in a smooth voice.
"That's not really nessecary," Jane gasped, moving quicker now.
By the time Sylar reached the kitchen, Jane was already in the fridge, stubbornly not looking at him. He moved up behind her, and as she burried her head deep in the shining whit space, he watched her body turn to gooseflesh.
"Here," Sylar said kindly, taking off his black jumper and handing it to Jane. "You must be freezing. I saw that hose get you."
Jane drew out of the fridge with a carton of strawberry-kiwi juice in her hand. Her eyes were wide as she gazed up at him, as if he was a mute speaking for the first time. Sylar took the juice out of her frozen hand, and slipped the unzipped jumper over her shoulders.
"I'll get Doug's drink, shall I?"
As he walked away, he could hear the jumper zip up, and knew Jane was now wrapped in an item of his clothing. The idea was much more arrousing then he expected. He quickly poured the kid not half a small glass, then turned to see Jane wrapped in his black jumper, her arms around herself and her nose burried deep in the fabric. If he didn't know better, she was smelling it.
"You ok there?" Sylar asked with a smile to his voice.
Jane started with a deep blush. "Yes," she squeaked. "Perfectly fine."
She grabbed the glass from Sylar and darted away from his leering figure.
As she handed the still disturbed Doug his drink, she couldn't help but fall down in the chair next to him, her eyes glossed over and troubled.
This was the first time Sylar had spoken to her since that night so many weeks ago in her room. How could it be that after weeks of an icy shoulder and a mean demeanor, he could suddenly blow up her boyfriend's car, and willingly go into cramped spaces with her?
Ha, she thought bitterly to herself, 'boyfriend'. He was only there to serve as a Sylar duplicate. Everytime she kissed him, she closed her eyes and tried to think of the dark figure who slept only a wall away from her.
Doug smelt constantly like a locker room, and so Jane associated this with what Sylar would smell like. But now that she had a piece of Sylar's clothing wrapped tightly around her, the scent of real masculinity overwhelmed her senses. This only brought home the depressing fact that Doug would never be her Sylar, and her Sylar would never be hers.
Jane's eyes swam with unshed tears as she watched Doug down the drink in a second.
"My car..." Doug said in a one-toned voice. "Why did it... blow up?"
Jane's eyes flashed quickly in Sylar's direction, her eyes quickly sweeping over his lounging figure. Sylar kept his eyes level on her, and watched as she bit her bottom lip and turned away.
"Stuff like that happens, Doug," Jane comforted. "There was nothing you could have done to stop it."
Doug's bottom lip quivered as he played with his empty glass distractedly in his hands. " But I spent so much money on it... that was never meant to happen."
"I know," soothed Jane sweetly, her hand resting against Doug's, "I know."
Sylar watched her delicate pale skin touch against Doug's, and felt his stomach clentch painfully. He didn't want her touching him. Why was Doug, a man so below Jane, getting all the attention?
"Jane," Sylar said in a sweet voice, moving up to her and placing his hand on her shoulder, "you must be very tired. Let me take care of our dear Douglas, and you can get some shut eye."
Jane sighed, and shut her eyes. It just didn't seem fair that the minute she had a normal guy who plainly wanted her, the dark and dangerous man, who lately seemed to abhore the very ground she walked on, showed his own devotion.
"No," Jane sighed. "It's fine. I can drive him back home."
Doug hiccuped dully, and his eyes found Jane's. "But what about my car?"
Sylar snorted, "It's not going to be going anywhere."
This had Doug's eyes brimming over with tears, and his shoulders shaking slightly. His head dropped low and he let out a long groan.
Jane grimaced and shot Sylar a look.
There was a loud exclamation from the front porch, and a few seconds later the front door was swinging open. Sasha Hart was standing next to her mother, both girls showing an equal amount of excitement and horror on their faces.
"What the hell happened out there!?" Sasha asked. She and Susan Hart enterred the house fully, slamming the door behind them as they kicked off their shoes. Sasha spotted Doug and put on a sultry pout as she glided over to him.
"Hey Doug!" she cried patting him on the back. "Was that your car?"
All Doug could do was whimper, and so Jane answered with a stiff, "Yes."
She didn't like the way her sister reacted to her 'boyfriend'. She wasn't ignorant to her sister's way with men, and knew exactly what would happen unless she warned her off right now.
"Poor, Doug," Susan said in her 'motherly' voice, as she came up to where the three of them were.
Sylar moved off to the wall opposite the scene where he could view Jane with burning eyes. He watched with a smirk as the girl constantly flushed.
"What happened, Dougey-Poo?" Sasha whispered, her hand playing through douglas's light brown hair.
Jane bristled slightly and crossed her arms. Sasha drew away from Doug, knowing to pick her battles. Sylar watched Jane's reaction with growing frustration – how can she be protective of that?
"I don't know what happened," Doug whispered, oblivious to the effect he had on the Hart residents as his eyes uddenly became wide and alarmed. "It just went WHOOSH!" he made a large gesture with his hands that almost had the glass flying across the room, "All that time and care, up in flames!"
He calmed back down, and his whole body seemed to frown as he slowly deflated.
"I know what you need," Susan suddenly said, slapping Doug's shoulder in her epiphany.
"Doug, why don't you and Jane come with Sasha and I to the fair this Sunday?" she suggested, her hands splayed and her mouth open as if expecting an applause. Jane looked up at her mom warily, her tomach twisting uneasily.
"Thanks, Mrs. Hart..." Doug said slowly. "But I don't know if Jane would want me encrouching on a family outing."
"Oh," Sylar said, smiling like a hunter closing in on prey, "Don't be silly! You've been dating a month. How about I come to? Is that alright, Susan? We could make it one large outing."
Susan visually brightened at this suggestion. She clip-clopped in her overly large clogs over to Sylar, then placed an enthusiastic hand on his arm.
"That's a fantastic idea!" she cried gripping him slightly as she appealed to a stunned Jane and a slightly chipper Doug. "What do you think?"
"Great," Doug said, looking to Jane. "Right?"
Jane's wide eyes were set on Sylar as her head gave an uncertain, jerking nod.
This is crazy, Jane repeated to herself, none of this makes sense. What is he doing to me?
She closed her eyes, and felt her confusion and exhaustion sweep down on her in one fatal blow. She swayed on her seat, and felt someone catch her before she slipped off the side.
"Woah, Gabriel," Jane heard Susan say. "I think you broke the sound of light."
Jane opened her eyes to see Sylar propping her up on her chair. He was close, too close for Jane not to respond to his touch. She swayed again, but this time in search of Sylar's embrace.
"Aw," Susan cooed, "She's dead on her feet."
"Do you need me to help you get up to your rooms?" Sylar asked, his hands rubbing against her arms in a way that didn't suggest he was just trying to warm her.
"Please," Jane asked. "Don't."
Don't what? Sylar wondered. I can't not doing anything now, Jane, he silently told her, I feel something...
"I'm just tired." Jane said suddenly, pulling slowly from Sylar.
They both held on a little longer then they should have, but eventually let go. Jane got unsteadily to her feet, and began to pad her way to the stairs. Knowing all the way there, that Sylar was just a step behind, his arms held out in permanent readiness to catch her should she fall.
Something had changed that night...
As Jane threw off all her clothes but the black jumper, she looked out the window just in time to seem a bolt of lightning break open the air. And as she was seteling inbetween the covers, preparing for another dream about a Sylar who wasn't as confusing as the real one, the rain finally began to pour.
(A/N) Next up – Sylar's intentions become very clear on a picnic bench...
