Sylar (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
heroslayer) wrote2009-10-18 08:06 pm
heroslayer) wrote2009-10-18 08:06 pm
for whack_a_muse: living with eyes wide shut (rp with ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
its_notluck
Samuel had made her promise that she would stay for one night and one night only. Soon, he promised, soon he would bring her home and she would be able to stay. She didn’t know what to make of that promise or what would happen afterward. She wasn’t sure if it made her feel better or if it only scared her a little more than the fear she was feeling at the moment.
He didn’t know exactly how they were going to bring Sylar out, or so he said. She was sure he had some kind of plan, he didn’t seem to be the type to ever be without one, but she had a feeling it was more that she wasn’t supposed to know yet. He was worried about her dad, she could tell and that’s why he was sending her home to her dorm with the promise Edgar would get her soon.
When she got back, she was relieved to find Gretchen gone but of course there was a little note on her pillow asking where she had been all night. Crumpling the paper into a tight ball, she tossed it into the garbage before dropping onto her bed with a sigh. She hadn’t slept at all, it had been impossible in a bed that wasn’t her own. Groaning as she rubbed her hands over her face, she tried not to worry about what was coming next or about how she was going to lie to her dad when he came to get her for lunch. Maybe she should carry a taser just in case he had the Haitian with him.
Or maybe she'd need the taser more immediately, knowing what she did now, as just a second later the door was creaking in protest as Nathan pushed it open. He didn't bother to knock -- hadn't really thought about it, only half with the rest of the world at the moment. He just let himself in, closed the door behind him, and leaned back against it, starting at her blankly, frowning though distractedly so.
Claire heard the door open and she sighed, thinking it was Gretchen but when a bunch of questions weren't being thrown at her, she lifted her head sharply. As soon as she saw who it was, she was scrambling to sit up, her heart jumping into her throat. "N...Nathan." Her eyes flickered to the closed door behind him and then she looked back, trying to force a bright smile. "What are you doing here?"
"Sorry," he murmured, shooting a half-guilty look back at the door. Clearly, he'd come back from where ever he'd been a moment before, and the realization of what he'd done in just barging into her room was starting to sink in. "I just -- I wanted to see if you were alright after last night. You seemed sort of shaken."
Wetting her lips, she tried to act casual like there was nothing wrong at the moment. Like she wasn't freaked out at the idea of being in the same room as him, as though she were waiting for some kind of monster to just pop out of nowhere and tear into her. "I'm fine." She reassured him, tucking some hair back from her face. "It was just a weird place, you know?"
"Yeah, it was." He reached up, raking his fingers through his hair with a sigh. "You get lost in there, too, or was that just me?"
"I got lost too," she confirmed with a nod, watching him closely. "And it was eerie quiet in there, did you notice that?" Which was really weird considering they had been in the middle of a busy Carnival.
"It was," he repeated, making a face that was equal parts sour and searching. "If I wasn't pretty sure that it was impossible to soundproof mirrors, I would've wondered if they hadn't done something like that." He dropped his hand away from his hair, huffing out another sigh. "Hell, I am wondering -- that shouldn't have happened."
"You mean we shouldn't have gotten lost?" she ventured, shifting her weight a little bit because she had an idea of how it all happened. She knew the Carnival wasn't what it seemed. It was a place filled with people who had abilities.
"That and the sound thing." He shrugged, folding his arms over his chest.
"Yeah." She nodded, her eyes shifting away from him as she nibbled over her bottom lip. "It was weird." And it had only gotten weirder. After a second or two, she glanced back at him. "How are you? Are you okay? You seemed kind of spooked after we left too."
He didn't answer right away, expression darken as he tried to decide whether or not to tell her the truth. It would be so easy to lie to protect her and just blame it out the disturbing silence and the near-dark, but he was near certain that she'd had enough of that. Bennet had done it to her for most of her life, after all. And even beyond that, he felt he needed to talk to someone about what had happened, as unsettled as he was about it still, and Peter hadn't bothered answering his cell phone this morning.
He closed his eyes. "I ran into a couple of guys in there -- I guess they were Carnies? I don't know." He could barely recall what they'd looked like; what they said had stuck with him, however. "Either way, they talked to me like they knew me. And I don't mean just my political career."
Claire didn't know that someone had talked to him, that was something she hadn't been told and so she frowned a little bit. They were already starting to poke at him? It made her bristle a little because she was sure they should take something like this slowly. Just snapping Sylar back into the real world would be a shock for him and the backlash would be great, she was sure of it. Not that she was concerned about Sylar though -- just everyone else.
"What do you mean?" She shifted over, making room for him to sit on the edge of her bed.
He met her question with one of his own. "What happened that day me and Pete took down Sylar?"
For a moment she just stared at him as she tried to think of what to say. "I ... I don't know. Not all of it," she admitted, biting her bottom lip. "I was there with Sylar because he tricked me, then I said something he didn't like and he sent me flying. That's when you and Peter showed up, I got locked out and then Peter was left in there. I didn't see where you and Sylar were when Peter and I ran out." Another pause as she felt her throat closing with the knowledge of what had really happened. "After ... Sylar was dead and you were ... there."
That didn't help much.
"That's about all I remember, too," he admitted at great lengths, his eyes finding something more interesting on the carpet. He hated this, hated worrying his daughter, but Christ -- he needed to get this off his chest to someone, otherwise he was sure the fear and uncertainty would eat him alive. "Me and Pete went in, Sylar knocked me through a window and into the building across the way, and that's it. Next thing I know, Ma's leaning over me, trying to see if I'm still in one piece."
Claire nodded her head slowly, picking at the blanket beneath her. "Well, Sylar got away. He nearly made it to the President but Peter and I stopped him." As she spoke, she watched him for any sort of reaction. "Peter posed as the President and stabbed Sylar with something to knock him out."
He hummed, his expression growing distant as a feeling he couldn't name crept up on him. He could almost remember something to that effect -- perhaps his mother had mentioned it to him at the funeral? -- but every time he tried pinning down who had told him, it slipped away. And the more he tried to force the memory to come back to him, the more it made his head hurt, pain starting behind his eyes and rising with every failed attempt, like running headfirst into a brick wall.
Eventually, he gave up, taking a deep breath in an effort to banish his new migraine. "Right."
Claire could see the bit of pain that came with him trying to remember. She swore she saw a ripple of something beneath the surface but it could have been a trick of the eyes. Maybe she was looking for something that wasn't there yet. "Why?" she asked as she shifted her weight towards him a little more.
"Why what?"
"Why do you ask?" She arched a brow at him curiously.
"Like I said, I can't really remember what happened. There's -- " He paused, swallowing thickly before drawing in another deep breath, though this time without reason. He'd just felt short of breath there for a second, and then that second had passed. " -- there's this gap in my memory. Like Ma sicced the Haitian on me."
God, she hated this! It wasn't fair. She shouldn't have to deal with this at all and yet it seemed she was the only one who would. She was the only one who would see it as being more beneficial to help him instead of just stuffing the monster back down into the Nathan shaped box. "I don't know." Of course it was a lie but she really didn't think about it. Instead she touched his arm lightly. "Maybe though ... maybe it's best to keep that to yourself till you have more of an idea?"
"Not like anyone really wants to listen to me rant, anyway," he offered, wryly. "I tried calling Pete earlier, and he didn't want to answer his phone. And if Ma really did screw with my head -- " Not that he saw her holding the shovel this time when it came to buried secrets, but he didn't want to take the chance, just in case. " -- she's not exactly going to be forthcoming."
"I'm here." She pointed out in a soft voice.
"Yeah." For some reason, that didn't make him feel much better. "Thanks, Claire."
Claire could see it didn't put him at ease like it should have and so she looked away, pushing down the urge to frown. "You're welcome," she murmured.
He lapsed into silence after that, just watching her, trying to decide whether or not to tell her the rest of what the Carnies had said. About his being haunted by something, and the fact that they were right -- the more he thought about it, the less he felt like himself.
Half of him wanted to blame it on what he'd done to his friends, as that sort of thing would shake anyone's faith in themself, he was sure. The other half, something half buried at the back of his head, was screaming at him that he was full of shit. That there was something more to all this than his age and his actions, and that he'd been stumbling through the last few weeks with his eyes wide shut, pretending that everything was fine and something wasn't gravely wrong here. He wasn't quite sure which part was right -- logic or gut instinct, sins or sightlessness -- but he couldn't quite ignore either. The more he thought about it, the more he felt torn in two and stuck unable to either redeem himself or get to the bottom of this until he could put himself back together.
And that feeling of being caught in the crossfire of his own internal war was probably what made him think better of saying anything about it, and cast a glance back at the door behind him. "I should probably go. If I don't show up at the office, they're going to start thinking we got kidnapped at the carnival."
As he made the mention that people would think they had been kidnapped at the carnival, she let out a hollow laugh. "Yeah." She swallowed down the thick clog of emotion that was trapped in her throat. It was hard to look at him, painful even. She wanted to look at him and take comfort that it was Nathan but she knew it wasn't. Lurking beneath the surface, lost in all the confusion and locked behind the walls that had been put into place was Sylar.
Pushing herself off the bed, she brushed her hands over her hips as her palms felt clammy all of a sudden. "I should get ready for my classes."
"Yeah," he echoed, summoning up a smile that was as thin as her laugh had been. "I'll, uh, call you sometime later this week. We can have dinner or something."
"Sure." She focused another brilliant smile at him, one that was strained at the edges and didn't meet her eyes. "I'll give you a call by the end of the week if I don't hear from you."
"Sounds good." Another glance was cast back at the door, and then he was turning. As he pulled the door open, however, he paused, his eyes fixed on her this time as he looked over his shoulder. "Sorry again about just sort of letting myself in, by the way."
Claire just shrugged, waving a hand in dismissal as she managed a small laugh. "Don't worry about it. Everyone kind of does that here."
"Good point." A pause. "See you around, Claire."
Then he was headed out, hoping that time would be enough to beat the feeling of being split when talking to someone who knew him -- who he cared about -- had only seemed to make it worse.
"Goodbye." She couldn't say his name as she watched him slip out of the room. As the door closed behind him, she collapsed on the bed once more, feeling strangely empty with the knowledge she had just pushed Sylar one step closer to working his way out. Which meant it was only a matter of time before Nathan would be gone completely.
Muse: Gabriel Gray (Sylar)
Fandom: Heroes
Word Count: 2392
He didn’t know exactly how they were going to bring Sylar out, or so he said. She was sure he had some kind of plan, he didn’t seem to be the type to ever be without one, but she had a feeling it was more that she wasn’t supposed to know yet. He was worried about her dad, she could tell and that’s why he was sending her home to her dorm with the promise Edgar would get her soon.
When she got back, she was relieved to find Gretchen gone but of course there was a little note on her pillow asking where she had been all night. Crumpling the paper into a tight ball, she tossed it into the garbage before dropping onto her bed with a sigh. She hadn’t slept at all, it had been impossible in a bed that wasn’t her own. Groaning as she rubbed her hands over her face, she tried not to worry about what was coming next or about how she was going to lie to her dad when he came to get her for lunch. Maybe she should carry a taser just in case he had the Haitian with him.
Or maybe she'd need the taser more immediately, knowing what she did now, as just a second later the door was creaking in protest as Nathan pushed it open. He didn't bother to knock -- hadn't really thought about it, only half with the rest of the world at the moment. He just let himself in, closed the door behind him, and leaned back against it, starting at her blankly, frowning though distractedly so.
Claire heard the door open and she sighed, thinking it was Gretchen but when a bunch of questions weren't being thrown at her, she lifted her head sharply. As soon as she saw who it was, she was scrambling to sit up, her heart jumping into her throat. "N...Nathan." Her eyes flickered to the closed door behind him and then she looked back, trying to force a bright smile. "What are you doing here?"
"Sorry," he murmured, shooting a half-guilty look back at the door. Clearly, he'd come back from where ever he'd been a moment before, and the realization of what he'd done in just barging into her room was starting to sink in. "I just -- I wanted to see if you were alright after last night. You seemed sort of shaken."
Wetting her lips, she tried to act casual like there was nothing wrong at the moment. Like she wasn't freaked out at the idea of being in the same room as him, as though she were waiting for some kind of monster to just pop out of nowhere and tear into her. "I'm fine." She reassured him, tucking some hair back from her face. "It was just a weird place, you know?"
"Yeah, it was." He reached up, raking his fingers through his hair with a sigh. "You get lost in there, too, or was that just me?"
"I got lost too," she confirmed with a nod, watching him closely. "And it was eerie quiet in there, did you notice that?" Which was really weird considering they had been in the middle of a busy Carnival.
"It was," he repeated, making a face that was equal parts sour and searching. "If I wasn't pretty sure that it was impossible to soundproof mirrors, I would've wondered if they hadn't done something like that." He dropped his hand away from his hair, huffing out another sigh. "Hell, I am wondering -- that shouldn't have happened."
"You mean we shouldn't have gotten lost?" she ventured, shifting her weight a little bit because she had an idea of how it all happened. She knew the Carnival wasn't what it seemed. It was a place filled with people who had abilities.
"That and the sound thing." He shrugged, folding his arms over his chest.
"Yeah." She nodded, her eyes shifting away from him as she nibbled over her bottom lip. "It was weird." And it had only gotten weirder. After a second or two, she glanced back at him. "How are you? Are you okay? You seemed kind of spooked after we left too."
He didn't answer right away, expression darken as he tried to decide whether or not to tell her the truth. It would be so easy to lie to protect her and just blame it out the disturbing silence and the near-dark, but he was near certain that she'd had enough of that. Bennet had done it to her for most of her life, after all. And even beyond that, he felt he needed to talk to someone about what had happened, as unsettled as he was about it still, and Peter hadn't bothered answering his cell phone this morning.
He closed his eyes. "I ran into a couple of guys in there -- I guess they were Carnies? I don't know." He could barely recall what they'd looked like; what they said had stuck with him, however. "Either way, they talked to me like they knew me. And I don't mean just my political career."
Claire didn't know that someone had talked to him, that was something she hadn't been told and so she frowned a little bit. They were already starting to poke at him? It made her bristle a little because she was sure they should take something like this slowly. Just snapping Sylar back into the real world would be a shock for him and the backlash would be great, she was sure of it. Not that she was concerned about Sylar though -- just everyone else.
"What do you mean?" She shifted over, making room for him to sit on the edge of her bed.
He met her question with one of his own. "What happened that day me and Pete took down Sylar?"
For a moment she just stared at him as she tried to think of what to say. "I ... I don't know. Not all of it," she admitted, biting her bottom lip. "I was there with Sylar because he tricked me, then I said something he didn't like and he sent me flying. That's when you and Peter showed up, I got locked out and then Peter was left in there. I didn't see where you and Sylar were when Peter and I ran out." Another pause as she felt her throat closing with the knowledge of what had really happened. "After ... Sylar was dead and you were ... there."
That didn't help much.
"That's about all I remember, too," he admitted at great lengths, his eyes finding something more interesting on the carpet. He hated this, hated worrying his daughter, but Christ -- he needed to get this off his chest to someone, otherwise he was sure the fear and uncertainty would eat him alive. "Me and Pete went in, Sylar knocked me through a window and into the building across the way, and that's it. Next thing I know, Ma's leaning over me, trying to see if I'm still in one piece."
Claire nodded her head slowly, picking at the blanket beneath her. "Well, Sylar got away. He nearly made it to the President but Peter and I stopped him." As she spoke, she watched him for any sort of reaction. "Peter posed as the President and stabbed Sylar with something to knock him out."
He hummed, his expression growing distant as a feeling he couldn't name crept up on him. He could almost remember something to that effect -- perhaps his mother had mentioned it to him at the funeral? -- but every time he tried pinning down who had told him, it slipped away. And the more he tried to force the memory to come back to him, the more it made his head hurt, pain starting behind his eyes and rising with every failed attempt, like running headfirst into a brick wall.
Eventually, he gave up, taking a deep breath in an effort to banish his new migraine. "Right."
Claire could see the bit of pain that came with him trying to remember. She swore she saw a ripple of something beneath the surface but it could have been a trick of the eyes. Maybe she was looking for something that wasn't there yet. "Why?" she asked as she shifted her weight towards him a little more.
"Why what?"
"Why do you ask?" She arched a brow at him curiously.
"Like I said, I can't really remember what happened. There's -- " He paused, swallowing thickly before drawing in another deep breath, though this time without reason. He'd just felt short of breath there for a second, and then that second had passed. " -- there's this gap in my memory. Like Ma sicced the Haitian on me."
God, she hated this! It wasn't fair. She shouldn't have to deal with this at all and yet it seemed she was the only one who would. She was the only one who would see it as being more beneficial to help him instead of just stuffing the monster back down into the Nathan shaped box. "I don't know." Of course it was a lie but she really didn't think about it. Instead she touched his arm lightly. "Maybe though ... maybe it's best to keep that to yourself till you have more of an idea?"
"Not like anyone really wants to listen to me rant, anyway," he offered, wryly. "I tried calling Pete earlier, and he didn't want to answer his phone. And if Ma really did screw with my head -- " Not that he saw her holding the shovel this time when it came to buried secrets, but he didn't want to take the chance, just in case. " -- she's not exactly going to be forthcoming."
"I'm here." She pointed out in a soft voice.
"Yeah." For some reason, that didn't make him feel much better. "Thanks, Claire."
Claire could see it didn't put him at ease like it should have and so she looked away, pushing down the urge to frown. "You're welcome," she murmured.
He lapsed into silence after that, just watching her, trying to decide whether or not to tell her the rest of what the Carnies had said. About his being haunted by something, and the fact that they were right -- the more he thought about it, the less he felt like himself.
Half of him wanted to blame it on what he'd done to his friends, as that sort of thing would shake anyone's faith in themself, he was sure. The other half, something half buried at the back of his head, was screaming at him that he was full of shit. That there was something more to all this than his age and his actions, and that he'd been stumbling through the last few weeks with his eyes wide shut, pretending that everything was fine and something wasn't gravely wrong here. He wasn't quite sure which part was right -- logic or gut instinct, sins or sightlessness -- but he couldn't quite ignore either. The more he thought about it, the more he felt torn in two and stuck unable to either redeem himself or get to the bottom of this until he could put himself back together.
And that feeling of being caught in the crossfire of his own internal war was probably what made him think better of saying anything about it, and cast a glance back at the door behind him. "I should probably go. If I don't show up at the office, they're going to start thinking we got kidnapped at the carnival."
As he made the mention that people would think they had been kidnapped at the carnival, she let out a hollow laugh. "Yeah." She swallowed down the thick clog of emotion that was trapped in her throat. It was hard to look at him, painful even. She wanted to look at him and take comfort that it was Nathan but she knew it wasn't. Lurking beneath the surface, lost in all the confusion and locked behind the walls that had been put into place was Sylar.
Pushing herself off the bed, she brushed her hands over her hips as her palms felt clammy all of a sudden. "I should get ready for my classes."
"Yeah," he echoed, summoning up a smile that was as thin as her laugh had been. "I'll, uh, call you sometime later this week. We can have dinner or something."
"Sure." She focused another brilliant smile at him, one that was strained at the edges and didn't meet her eyes. "I'll give you a call by the end of the week if I don't hear from you."
"Sounds good." Another glance was cast back at the door, and then he was turning. As he pulled the door open, however, he paused, his eyes fixed on her this time as he looked over his shoulder. "Sorry again about just sort of letting myself in, by the way."
Claire just shrugged, waving a hand in dismissal as she managed a small laugh. "Don't worry about it. Everyone kind of does that here."
"Good point." A pause. "See you around, Claire."
Then he was headed out, hoping that time would be enough to beat the feeling of being split when talking to someone who knew him -- who he cared about -- had only seemed to make it worse.
"Goodbye." She couldn't say his name as she watched him slip out of the room. As the door closed behind him, she collapsed on the bed once more, feeling strangely empty with the knowledge she had just pushed Sylar one step closer to working his way out. Which meant it was only a matter of time before Nathan would be gone completely.
Muse: Gabriel Gray (Sylar)
Fandom: Heroes
Word Count: 2392