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

[heroslayer]

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.

Comments

[its-notluck.livejournal.com]

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.