for justprompts: past
Nov. 17th, 2008 08:40 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
heroslayer"Doctor Suresh?"
It's all he can do, as he doesn't dare knock on the door, fingers still sticky-sick red despite how many times he's wiped his hands on his pants. It seems to work, though, as swears he can hear someone shuffling around on the other side of the paper-thin door, and so he tries again, hopeful in a desperate sort of way.
"Chandra?"
Another moment of movement behind closed doors, and then the Indian's voice drifts to him, muffled by the barrier between them; he imagines the geneticist watching him through the peephole. "I thought I told you to stop coming here, Mister Sylar. Or whatever it is you're calling yourself these days."
He winces. He doesn't want to be known as Sylar, not right now, even though he's been leaving cryptic messages on Chandra's answering machine with that name ever since he killed Brian Davis. Ever since he tried to kill himself and failed. When Elle isn't around to quiet the hunger. When he just needs to lash out. It's a suitable alternative to murder, even if he's sure Chandra has started thinking he's just a bit insane--maybe he is--but he wants no part of it now. All he wants is help.
"Please."
"I'm very busy. I have to go to my job soon."
There's disdain in his voice, and Gabriel can't tell if it's directed at him, or the fact that the job he's referring to is driving a taxi. Either way, he recoils from the tone--it reminds him too much of Elle, when she begged him to stop, when he killed Trevor, but he can't say why. It's not the same, but it still feels like it. Maybe it's because this feels as much like a betrayal as that did.
"Please." He's practically begging now--he can't afford to be sent away again. "I ... I need help."
Silence from the other side of the door, and then finally and slowly, there's the sound of locks being undone and security chains being pushed aside, and the door opens. Chandra looks worn, but his eyes are still sharp, and as he looks him over, Gabriel suddenly wishes he'd never come. Mostly because his eyes move immediately to the stains on his pants.
"My God. Is that--" He shakes his head sharply, and while Gabriel hasn't taken so much as a step forward, Chandra is shooing him away. "Get out. Get out, get out, get out." He slams the door in his face, and through it, he continues, "Stop coming here. Stop calling. All of it. I'm washing my hands of you."
"Doctor Suresh, pl--"
"Leave. Now, Gabriel. Before I call the police."
He's not sure that Chandra still won't, not with the blood on his hands and clothing, but he has no choice. Just like he had no choice but to send Elle away. It's for their own good. For his own good. He can't--he can't--
He feels sick as he stumbles away from Chandra's door, nearly taking a tumble down the stairs as he staggers towards them. Everyone he's ever cared about has lied to him. Everyone he's ever loved has pushed him away in the end. Everyone betrays. Everything ends, and he's left with splinters of a life, trying desperately to fix what others have broken of him. He's broken. And as he nearly smashes his face into the wall at the bottom of the stairwell--when did he start running?--something breaks further as he comes to a realization.
It's not just him that's broken. It's like Brian Davis said. Everyone is. And he's gotten so good at picking up pieces.
Suddenly calm--numb is a better word for it, but he doesn't see it like that--he stuffs his hands into his pockets, sifting for change. He comes up with what he's looking for, crosses the street to a pay phone, and looks up at Suresh's window as he feeds the machine and punches in a handful of numbers. The phone rings endlessly, but he's not surprised. He's prepared to leave a message, a final warning for the first person whose life he's going to fix for ruining his.
But not before he taunts him, because he knows he's still there. He can see the light on, through the window still.
"Hello, Chandra. Why won't you talk to me? You can't leave me like this."
What he doesn't expect is for Chandra to pick up the phone, or how calm he sounds, despite the fact that the man had just seen a murderer, first hand. He checks his watch idly, still as calm as ever, and suddenly it all makes sense. He's missing twenty minutes of his life. Just how long was he standing at the bottom of those stairs? "Hello, Mr. Sylar? I asked you not to call here anymore."
He shrugs it off. "The hunger, it's--I can't control it." That's all he wanted to say to the Indian, back upstairs. All he wanted help with, and Chandra denied him. Probably for the best, he thinks, and he grins wickedly. "I don't want to. You made me this way."
"I made you a murderer?"
"You helped me to discover my potential. You wanted to see what I could do as much as I did. And now you want it to stop."
He can practically hear Chandra scowling. "It's over. Goodbye."
The phone dies sharply, and Gabriel--Sylar--smiles up at the window above him. "You have no idea, Suresh."
Time to go pick up the pieces.
Muse: Gabriel Gray (Sylar)
Fandom: Heroes
Word Count: 917 (with dialogue from 1x02 - Don't Look Back)
Notes: Not the strongest piece, nor what I intended to write, but I needed to reconcile the time line. I'm assuming a couple of days passed between when Sylar met with Chandra here and when Mohinder showed up in NY torun away like a girl from Bennet ferry Bennet to JFK. What? The rest of the time line was ambiguous. I can be too. :P
It's all he can do, as he doesn't dare knock on the door, fingers still sticky-sick red despite how many times he's wiped his hands on his pants. It seems to work, though, as swears he can hear someone shuffling around on the other side of the paper-thin door, and so he tries again, hopeful in a desperate sort of way.
"Chandra?"
Another moment of movement behind closed doors, and then the Indian's voice drifts to him, muffled by the barrier between them; he imagines the geneticist watching him through the peephole. "I thought I told you to stop coming here, Mister Sylar. Or whatever it is you're calling yourself these days."
He winces. He doesn't want to be known as Sylar, not right now, even though he's been leaving cryptic messages on Chandra's answering machine with that name ever since he killed Brian Davis. Ever since he tried to kill himself and failed. When Elle isn't around to quiet the hunger. When he just needs to lash out. It's a suitable alternative to murder, even if he's sure Chandra has started thinking he's just a bit insane--maybe he is--but he wants no part of it now. All he wants is help.
"Please."
"I'm very busy. I have to go to my job soon."
There's disdain in his voice, and Gabriel can't tell if it's directed at him, or the fact that the job he's referring to is driving a taxi. Either way, he recoils from the tone--it reminds him too much of Elle, when she begged him to stop, when he killed Trevor, but he can't say why. It's not the same, but it still feels like it. Maybe it's because this feels as much like a betrayal as that did.
"Please." He's practically begging now--he can't afford to be sent away again. "I ... I need help."
Silence from the other side of the door, and then finally and slowly, there's the sound of locks being undone and security chains being pushed aside, and the door opens. Chandra looks worn, but his eyes are still sharp, and as he looks him over, Gabriel suddenly wishes he'd never come. Mostly because his eyes move immediately to the stains on his pants.
"My God. Is that--" He shakes his head sharply, and while Gabriel hasn't taken so much as a step forward, Chandra is shooing him away. "Get out. Get out, get out, get out." He slams the door in his face, and through it, he continues, "Stop coming here. Stop calling. All of it. I'm washing my hands of you."
"Doctor Suresh, pl--"
"Leave. Now, Gabriel. Before I call the police."
He's not sure that Chandra still won't, not with the blood on his hands and clothing, but he has no choice. Just like he had no choice but to send Elle away. It's for their own good. For his own good. He can't--he can't--
He feels sick as he stumbles away from Chandra's door, nearly taking a tumble down the stairs as he staggers towards them. Everyone he's ever cared about has lied to him. Everyone he's ever loved has pushed him away in the end. Everyone betrays. Everything ends, and he's left with splinters of a life, trying desperately to fix what others have broken of him. He's broken. And as he nearly smashes his face into the wall at the bottom of the stairwell--when did he start running?--something breaks further as he comes to a realization.
It's not just him that's broken. It's like Brian Davis said. Everyone is. And he's gotten so good at picking up pieces.
Suddenly calm--numb is a better word for it, but he doesn't see it like that--he stuffs his hands into his pockets, sifting for change. He comes up with what he's looking for, crosses the street to a pay phone, and looks up at Suresh's window as he feeds the machine and punches in a handful of numbers. The phone rings endlessly, but he's not surprised. He's prepared to leave a message, a final warning for the first person whose life he's going to fix for ruining his.
But not before he taunts him, because he knows he's still there. He can see the light on, through the window still.
"Hello, Chandra. Why won't you talk to me? You can't leave me like this."
What he doesn't expect is for Chandra to pick up the phone, or how calm he sounds, despite the fact that the man had just seen a murderer, first hand. He checks his watch idly, still as calm as ever, and suddenly it all makes sense. He's missing twenty minutes of his life. Just how long was he standing at the bottom of those stairs? "Hello, Mr. Sylar? I asked you not to call here anymore."
He shrugs it off. "The hunger, it's--I can't control it." That's all he wanted to say to the Indian, back upstairs. All he wanted help with, and Chandra denied him. Probably for the best, he thinks, and he grins wickedly. "I don't want to. You made me this way."
"I made you a murderer?"
"You helped me to discover my potential. You wanted to see what I could do as much as I did. And now you want it to stop."
He can practically hear Chandra scowling. "It's over. Goodbye."
The phone dies sharply, and Gabriel--Sylar--smiles up at the window above him. "You have no idea, Suresh."
Time to go pick up the pieces.
Muse: Gabriel Gray (Sylar)
Fandom: Heroes
Word Count: 917 (with dialogue from 1x02 - Don't Look Back)
Notes: Not the strongest piece, nor what I intended to write, but I needed to reconcile the time line. I'm assuming a couple of days passed between when Sylar met with Chandra here and when Mohinder showed up in NY to
