for theatrical_muse: passing
Jul. 31st, 2009 01:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
heroslayerHe's just a ghost in Parkman's head, just fragments of memory that can't be put to rest, from where the telepath touched what was his. He doesn't exist, just like he doesn't really exist for Nathan Petrelli, but there's still enough of him left to make an appearance in Matt's living room while the ex-wife is out and he's alone. It's not much, but for a man serving a life sentence, he figures it's enough. Something is better than nothing and the telepath still jumps when he appears in the doorway silently, looming.
"Jesus," Matt hisses, reaching up to scrub a hand over his face, and he can only imagine that he's trying to banish him with the gesture. Lucky for him, it doesn't work.
"Hello, Matt." He quick-steps into the room, by the door one minute and hovering over the former cop the next, and Matt starts again, before shaking his head. He doesn't get to his feet, though, and while Sylar can understand why, he's not exactly pleased. Just because he can't physically hurt the other man doesn't mean he can't do damage -- he's pretty sure he's already doing it, just by being here -- but Matt's not afraid. Startled, yes, but not afraid -- not even when he takes up circling him like the vulture caught sight of dinner -- and that gets to him.
He steels his jaw, trying to fight the annoyance down, and summons up a thin, sick smile for his jailer. Matt still doesn't look impressed. "You mind getting lost, man?" he snaps, shooting him a black look. "You're not exactly real, anyway. You're -- you're ... "
"A ghost?" he supplies, to stop the former cop from fumbling for words.
Matt nods, shifting a bit in his seat so that he can follow him with his eyes as he threatens to disappear behind him on the path his circling has taken. "Yeah."
Making a noise that's equal parts amused and agreeing, he pauses behind Matt, leaning against the back of the chair to peer down at him. Silence follows as he looks for something he can't put his finger on, but whatever it is, he doesn't find it, and so he shrugs before changing the subject. "I was at the funeral, you know -- twice, actually. Once with you, once with Nathan."
"Great." The cop all but rolls his eyes. "So, what do you want? An I'm sorry you're dead card?"
Another soft sound, this time entirely amused. "Oh, I'm not dead," he tells him a wicked smile curling his lips. "I'm just biding my time. What you did can't last forever, Parkman; you have to know that."
It's a lie -- the first one he's told in as long as he can remember without the aid of his perfect memory -- as he knows he's losing ground both here and in Nathan's head, but he doesn't dare let Matt know that. He'll be dead soon, the phantom of him here slipping away to dust while the real him, the one who thinks he's Nathan Petrelli, loses himself to a stranger's skin, but he wants something before he goes. Fear. Doubt. Someone to mourn his passing, maybe. And Matt is the only person who can give it to him because Nathan's already winning the war.
Muse: Gabriel Gray (Sylar)
Fandom: Heroes
Word Count: 552
Notes: The use of Matt is not directed at any particular muse. Based loosely on something said at the Comic Con Heroes panel, and posted here whether or not I make it into TM because I liked it.
"Jesus," Matt hisses, reaching up to scrub a hand over his face, and he can only imagine that he's trying to banish him with the gesture. Lucky for him, it doesn't work.
"Hello, Matt." He quick-steps into the room, by the door one minute and hovering over the former cop the next, and Matt starts again, before shaking his head. He doesn't get to his feet, though, and while Sylar can understand why, he's not exactly pleased. Just because he can't physically hurt the other man doesn't mean he can't do damage -- he's pretty sure he's already doing it, just by being here -- but Matt's not afraid. Startled, yes, but not afraid -- not even when he takes up circling him like the vulture caught sight of dinner -- and that gets to him.
He steels his jaw, trying to fight the annoyance down, and summons up a thin, sick smile for his jailer. Matt still doesn't look impressed. "You mind getting lost, man?" he snaps, shooting him a black look. "You're not exactly real, anyway. You're -- you're ... "
"A ghost?" he supplies, to stop the former cop from fumbling for words.
Matt nods, shifting a bit in his seat so that he can follow him with his eyes as he threatens to disappear behind him on the path his circling has taken. "Yeah."
Making a noise that's equal parts amused and agreeing, he pauses behind Matt, leaning against the back of the chair to peer down at him. Silence follows as he looks for something he can't put his finger on, but whatever it is, he doesn't find it, and so he shrugs before changing the subject. "I was at the funeral, you know -- twice, actually. Once with you, once with Nathan."
"Great." The cop all but rolls his eyes. "So, what do you want? An I'm sorry you're dead card?"
Another soft sound, this time entirely amused. "Oh, I'm not dead," he tells him a wicked smile curling his lips. "I'm just biding my time. What you did can't last forever, Parkman; you have to know that."
It's a lie -- the first one he's told in as long as he can remember without the aid of his perfect memory -- as he knows he's losing ground both here and in Nathan's head, but he doesn't dare let Matt know that. He'll be dead soon, the phantom of him here slipping away to dust while the real him, the one who thinks he's Nathan Petrelli, loses himself to a stranger's skin, but he wants something before he goes. Fear. Doubt. Someone to mourn his passing, maybe. And Matt is the only person who can give it to him because Nathan's already winning the war.
Muse: Gabriel Gray (Sylar)
Fandom: Heroes
Word Count: 552
Notes: The use of Matt is not directed at any particular muse. Based loosely on something said at the Comic Con Heroes panel, and posted here whether or not I make it into TM because I liked it.
