heroslayer | for writer's block table: awake (rp for its

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for writer's block table: awake (rp for its_notluck)

Something shatters downstairs.

The sound is faint, not a window breaking but a cup, but it's enough to cut through the haze of faint awareness he's been floating in for the last few days and drag him gasping into full alertness. He lays there for a moment, staring blankly at the ceiling, trying to wrap his head around the sound and the odd, displaced feeling that comes with waking up somewhere you can't remember ever being, and then there's another crash from downstairs. He sits up abruptly, glaring holes in the twilight of the room, straining to listen.

He hears voices but nothing else, not even with his hearing, his focus shot to hell and wrapped in cotton, but it's enough to put him on edge. He can remember Samuel now and everything move he's made against them since he and Claire walked out of that damnable carnival, and he's quick to assume that they're under attack again. The barker has sent his cronies after them or come himself again, and he won't stand for it.

He moves to swing his legs over the edge of the bed and winces once he manages, teeth gritting, his muscles crying out from months and months of disuse. He ignores the pain, however, not even sure why it hurts in the first place, and staggers to his feet, a hand going to the nightstand to steady himself. And once he feels certain enough standing, he lets go, pushing away to move towards the door.

He gets exactly three steps away before the IV line tugs at his hand, and the shock of it is enough to send him off balance. He sprawls to the floor gracelessly, a snarl on his lips, and the voices downstairs stop abruptly.

A long, tense moment follows and then the sound of someone coming up the stairs chases the silence away. The door opens cautiously a moment later, and Peter pokes his head in, backlit by strange, flickering light. When he steps into the room, he realizes it's coming from the flames lapping harmlessly at his fingertips. He hums, amused, and tries to drag himself to his feet again.

"Whoa, hey." Peter is by his side in an instant, the fire at his hand dying suddenly, and wraps his arms around his waist. He doesn't even try to claw his way free as Peter hauls him back up to the bed. "Take it easy. You've been out of it for awhile."

Confused, he stares at Peter, trying to work out what the hell he means by that, and it all filters back to him slowly, a chill creeping up his spine as each snippet of memory returns. Giving Peter his original ability back. Passing out afterward. All of it. He opens his mouth to ask the other man just how long it's been, but he misses his chance, Peter sliding away from him to rush towards the door.

He pushes it open widely, yelling down the stairs, "Claire! He's awake!"

And Sylar can't help the stab of annoyance that follows when he realizes he must have been out of play for quite some time.

Muse: Gabriel Gray (Sylar)
Fandom: Heroes
Word Count: 526
Note: Pretty sure the ex isn't stalking me and my muses anymore, so ... Peter is

hadtobeahero and all mine to use and abuse.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

To Claire, it was just another day. Another day of Sylar not being awake and Peter pushing her to learn control over her new abilities. Or at least over the ability that he knew about which was telekinesis. She still wasn't sure how Sylar or Peter learned such control so quickly but she just couldn't seem to get the hang of it. She was getting better, enough so that she wasn't shattering windows with the wave of a hand but they were going through glasses and cups like there was no tomorrow.

Standing downstairs in the living room, she sighed as he set out another glass before her and she tried focusing again. It took only a little effort supposedly but even the flick of a finger sent the glass flying into a wall nearby. The shattering was nothing new to her but the crashing sound upstairs was.

Instantly she was tense as she traded a look with Peter, both of them worrying instantly that someone had found them. "You check him, I'll check outside." She whispered, rushing away from Peter to check the windows. She half feared that she would see Samuel outside, or perhaps some of his goonies, but she was also itching for a fight after all the things they had done to her and Sylar. Peter, as well.

What she wasn't prepared for was the sound of Peter's voice yelling that Sylar was awake.

For a second, she stood still as her heart squeezed hard in her chest. She didn't want to go and see because there was a part of her that was worried Peter was wrong. Or maybe that it was a trap. But seconds later, she was running up the stairs and into the bedroom where they had been keeping Sylar. Skidding to a stop, Claire felt like she had been hit hard in the stomach at the sight of Sylar sitting there on the bed, looking somewhat alert and yet confused. She wanted to rush over and hug him but the frail state he was in stopped her.

"You're up." She replied, almost numbly, as though he had been merely taking a nap.

"Guess so." He stretched a bit, wincing, and reached up to press his fingers to the bridge of his nose only to stop short. Bad idea with the IV still in his hand. He glanced to Peter, who moved back to him, and offered up his hand so he could start working the thing out. "How long?"

Claire looked to Peter, letting him answer as she walked over to Sylar's side, figuring he didn't need the IV anymore since he was up and down. She also hoped that being close to her would allow him to use her ability again. "Hold still." She murmured, reaching to pull at the tape gently, lifting it up so that she could pull out the IV line slowly.

Peter flashed her a frown, not wanting to bear the bad news but apparently having no choice in the matter, and sighed, reaching up to comb his fingers through his hair. He dropped his hand back to his side and took a step back, both to let Claire get his IV and to avoid the killer's anger if and when it came. "It's been ... like four months?"

Thankfully, Sylar didn't lash out; he didn't look particularly thrilled, however. "Guess that explains why I had problems standing up."

In four months time, his muscles must have atrophied from disuse. He was fairly certain that his body was working to correct this, as he felt a bit stronger with every passing moment -- his hand was healing, too, as Claire hauled the IV line out of it -- but still. The realization was more than a little disturbing.

Claire didn't know why but it was almost hard to get the words to form as she was overwhelmed by a lot of different emotions that she wasn't accustomed to anymore. She had spent four months locking them away, hiding them in another part of her mind as she dealt with the strange situation. It had been easier that way and part of her wondered if Sylar would be proud that she was starting to approach different situations in a rather clinical fashion at times.

Watching his hand heal, she felt a sense of relief that her ability was finally kicking in for him. Turning away, she set to the task of disposing of disposing of the IV. Once she was done, she turned back to face Sylar again.

"You'll get better." She replied, glancing over at Peter to see if he noticed that her ability was working on Sylar. Then she looked at the darker man again. "Do you want anything?"

Sylar considered that for a moment, his lips pressed into a thin line. He was tired, likely because he hadn't really slept in four months, there a distinct difference between asleep and comatose, but he didn't want to go back to bed. Not when he had been trapped there for months. Not when he couldn't be entirely certain that he wouldn't wake up again. He'd probably avoid sleep for as long as he could now, and that in mind, he rolled one shoulder in a shrug and spit out the next thing that had occurred to him.

"I'm starving." He hadn't eaten in four months, either, and that was catching up with him slowly as his body healed.

Claire wouldn't want to see him go to sleep either, if only because she worried about him not waking up again as well. She had waited a long time to see him upright and it was almost surreal now that it was happening. Reaching up to touch his forehead, her fingertips were as light as a feather's touch as she ran them through his hair before she pulled back. Affection, which had become a normal action for them, almost felt strange to her too.

But she allowed a faint smile to come to her lips as he finally said that he was starving and she nodded, straightening. "I can make you some food. Anything specific that you want?"

He leaned into her fingers, his eyes slipping half-closed, and sighed. Beyond what his body was telling him to the contrary and regardless of how distant the memory of what he had done for Peter, it didn't feel like it had been four months, and yet still, somehow, he had missed her touch. He looked passingly disappointed when she pulled her hand away and he sighed again, reopening his eyes.

"Not really. Just something." A pause and then wryly he amended, "Not eggs."

She had missed it too and she found that touching him caused a weird feeling in the center of her chest that could almost be described as a little ache. She didn't really want to leave his side but she was the better cook out of the three and she wanted to make him something substantial that would help him to feel better.

She chuckled a bit at the mention of not wanting eggs and she nodded. "I can manage that." Then she leaned in to kiss his cheek, her lips brushing softly against the shadow of his facial hair since they hadn't gotten to shaving him yet.

Walking out of the room, she only hoped the boys would play nice as she wandered downstairs to the kitchen to see what she could make for Sylar. Possibly even all of them since she couldn't quite recall the last time she had eaten anything more than a piece of toast or some other small snack. Forgoing the eggs (somewhat), she settled on waffles and bacon as soon the smell of cooking food filled the air.

He turned his head when she brushed a kiss over his cheek, trying to catch her lips and not particularly if Peter saw him kiss her. It wasn't a secret that they were together, and a part of him could at least understand her hurt even if he did not feel it himself. For him, there had been no sense of time, no obvious loss of months upon months, even if he was aware of it and unsettled by it now; for her, passage of time must have been a nightmare, not knowing when he'd wake up, if ever. Unfortunately, however, he wasn't quite quick enough, and all he managed was to brush a kiss across her cheek in turn before she retreated.

He watched her go, mutely, then turned to study Peter in the silence. Peter just looked back levelly, for once declining to comment, and he sighed, getting to his feet with much less effort this time, and meandered downstairs after Claire. Peter did not follow, presumably to clean up the mess of medical supplies he'd made in the last few months, and so Sylar contented himself to leaning in the doorway of the kitchen, his arms folded over his chest as he watched Claire.

She couldn't even begin to explain the things she felt at the moment. There was an overwhelming sense of relief to see him up and about but now it seemed strange, surreal in a way, to have him there interacting with them again. She had gotten used to his still and almost lifeless form. In a way, she had started to detach herself from the whole thing. It had been her way of compartmentalizing and dealing with the situation, if only because it helped her to continue on. It allowed her to focus on her new ability and all the abilities that she gained because of it. She had to work harder on everything that she gained, even with his intuitiveness working away in her head.

Because her senses were sharper, she knew when he joined her in the kitchen, lingering at the doorway where his eyes followed her every move. She drew in a faint breath, focusing on pouring a small amount of batter onto the waffle maker before closing it. Setting the bowl down, she turned finally to look at him, her eyes sweeping over his tall frame. "Hey." She smiled faintly, leaning back against the cupboard as she waited for the waffle to finish. "Are you thirsty?"

He pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth, considering the question, and then made a face. He'd realized he was hungry right away -- likely because his body had lept to repair what damage his inactivity had done to him, and that had only sharpened the intense empty feeling in the pit of his stomach -- but thirsty? It hadn't occurred to him until just now how dry his mouth really was.

He nodded. "Yeah."

She thought of making coffee but she figured that water would be easier on his system at first. Grabbing him a glass, she fetched the pitcher of water from the fridge, filling it up before moving to pass it to him. Setting the pitcher back in the fridge, she focused back on finishing breakfast. Once it was done, she brought him a plate of food, motioning to the small table that they used for their meals. "Come on, sit down." She motioned for him to take a seat.

Fixing herself a waffle, she joined him a moment a later.

Wordlessly, he took the glass of water from her and stared down at it, frowning. Then, slowly and carefully, he brought it to his lips, forcing himself to sip at it rather than down the whole thing immediately in an effort to soothe his dry mouth. The last thing he wanted was to be sick and he hadn't had anything in his stomach for four months, and Claire's healing or not, he didn't want to risk it. Better to take it slow.

He'd managed a few small mouthfuls when she finished breakfast, and he moved over to the table as ordered, setting his drink down as he took his seat. As hungry as he was, though, he didn't touch them -- he simply watched her, still frowning, and listened to Peter move around upstairs.

Looking up at him, she wasn't at all surprised to find him staring at her. Mainly because she had felt his eyes burning into her and she found herself wishing that she could actually read minds instead of moving things around with a bit of focus. Holding her fork, she twirled it lightly on top of the waffle, swiping it through the tiny bit of whipped cream that she had added to the top.

"What?" She asked softly, arching a brow at him curiously.

"Tell me what's happened the last few months." He shrugged, his eyes sliding towards the ceiling and Peter above them coolly, then looked back to her, lowering his voice. "Tell me what you have now that I don't."

Something. Anything to get her talking. Anything to kill the elephant in the room.

She wasn't even sure what was causing the weird tension that made everything feel awkward in that moment. She glanced at the ceiling as well, listening for Peter even if Sylar's ears were sharper than her own.

Keeping her voice soft, she tilted her head in consideration as she answered his question. "Telekinesis." She smiled faintly, her lips twisting with a wry sense of humor. "Which Peter is trying to help me with."

"I also took an exploding power from someone but I'm trying not to use it. It's a little hard to explain to Peter if I keep blowing things up." She wrinkled her nose. "Plus I need you to show me how to do it properly. Somehow bashing a guy's head in is just...lacking your finesse."

Edited 2011-01-12 22:12 (UTC)

He made a soft, amused noise, the tiniest of smiles lighting his face, and cocked his head to one side. "Just a little." He paused, the smile fading. "But it's not that hard. Not if you found a telekinetic."

He had a feeling she wasn't doing too well with the telekinesis -- understandable, he supposed, even given his aptitude and the natural knowledge of an ability it granted, since it was her first. He hadn't exactly been all that masterful with his telekinesis at the start, either. She would learn, just as he had, and he had a feeling she had a better grasp on the ability to make things explode, even if she hadn't used it -- the fact that she hadn't randomly destroyed the house as Peter would have if he'd accidentally picked it up years ago spoke volumes to that.

Either way, he shrugged and leveled a finger with her hairline, dragging it across her forehead without actually cutting to demonstrate just how easy it was. He made a sick, wet noise, too -- one usually reserved for Off With Their Head gestures -- in case she hadn't gotten the point.

She made a face at him as he leveled a finger at her hairline and she half expected him to start sawing into her skull but she was thankful when he didn't. "Trust me, I know how you do it." After all, she had been subjected to that a few times now. An attempt or two, one time when he took her ability and another time when the sick need had taken over.

"I just don't have the focus yet. The first time it showed up, I sent two carnies flying and blew up the window in the bedroom." She explained, cutting into her waffle to take a small bite. "That was just awhile ago. You were unconscious but a couple of Samuel's goons found us. We got out okay though, obviously."

And now that he was awake, she wouldn't have to worry so much. She left that comment unsaid though.

"I'll show you." He could probably do a better job of teaching her than Peter had been doing, if the sound when he'd come to had been any indication. Never mind that part of the problem probably had something to do with the fact that Peter was trying to teach from an empath's point of view rather than theirs, he was content to believe that Peter was just an idiot. "It's not that hard once you get used to it."

The offer was, apparently, not good for right that second, however, as he was showing interest in his breakfast now that the ice had been broken.

"We'll worry about it later." She wouldn't rush him into using any of his abilities, not right after he had woken up. She wanted him to regain some strength before he tried helping her out.

Taking a bite of her food, she found herself starting to relax with a small smile as she watched him for a moment. Watching him eat actually made her feel better as well but nothing could beat the feeling of seeing him actually up and about.

"I've been looking for abilities." She kept her voice soft, not wanting Peter to overhear them. "I've found two. I think the one guy is a teleporter from what I've seen. The other crawls up walls." Which wasn't really that exciting but maybe Sylar would find a use for it.

He offered her a close-lipped smile around a bite of his breakfast, impressed and jealous at the same time. Despite her inexperience with her telekinesis, she shouldn't have been able to resist the need to understand. She should have killed, should have been unable to help herself as he hadn't been able to resist the lure of murdering Brian Davis, and it shouldn't have mattered whether or not she could cut her victim open. Want would have found a way and it irritated him that she had been able to show restraint where he hadn't -- not that he'd ever really wanted to, but still -- but it was also impressive. She had more control than him; he wondered why.

Swallowing down his mouthful of waffles, he studied her for a moment, his eyes sharp and shining, then shook his head. He'd find out later, if she could still exhibit such control under less than dire circumstances.

"The teleporter will be hard to catch," he said, focusing himself instead on that. "Too hard to keep in one place. It's why I never managed to kill Nakamura. The other one, though ... " That would be easier, even if he had more of a taste for teleportation than for being a Spider-Man wannabe.

Claire had figured that maybe it was the worry over Sylar and being found out that had kept her from going crazy with need like he did at times. She had been more concerned about leaving bodies and drawing attention to them when they were supposed to be staying under the radar. That didn't mean she didn't hear the ticking because there were times when she thought it would completely drive her crazy to distraction but she had been lucky so far.

Watching him as his eyes sharpened on her, she considered what was running through his mind while she took another bite of her waffle.

"I've considered a couple ways to trap him. I thought of using my sexual manipulation ability even if I'm not his type at all." She chuckled faintly, thinking of what she had seen while tracking the guy. "But I don't think I'd have enough to keep him in one place once he started freaking out."

"We'd have to knock him out." Which wouldn't be any fun at all. What good was a hunt if he didn't get to see his mark struggle and beg futilely before he took what he wanted? "Either that, or we'd need something like the Haitian's power, first."

Who, for all he knew, might have been back in Haiti right now.

"Then we'd have to find someone with his ability." Maybe she had gotten a little more blood thirsty over the last while but not so much so that she would go after the Haitian himself. He had done quite a lot for her over the years and she wasn't ready to burn that bridge.

"There's got to be someone with a similar ability." She decided after a moment, finishing her waffle. Rising to her feet, she walked over to slide the plate into the sink. "I could hit him with the one ability, make it hard for him to focus but it'd still be risky."

for writer's block table: awake (rp for its_notluck)

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