Fanfiction: Heroes: I Know You'll Keep Them, And This Is What I've Done
Author name: superkappa
Title: I Know You’ll Keep Them, And This Is What I’ve Done
Word Count: 10, 278
Pairing: Sylar/Elle with past references to Adam/Elle and Elle/Random Company Men
Rating: R
Summary: AU. After Sylar is captured by Primatech (after Homecoming) Elle visits him and gives him a gift. It's a journal explaining how she's become the person she is now, and an attempt to help him understand why she did what she did to him.
Author’s Note: This started as an answer to a prompt faded_facade made on the movie fic meme, but it begged me to expand the story. So this is what happened. acinogan, dragynflies, and stainofmylove are my eternal saviors for betaing and helping me find direction to this story. Art has been done by both faded_facade which can be found here and by juliet42 which will be added once I get the link. Written for heroes_bigboom.
It takes six months after betraying Gabriel before Elle finally decides to leave the Company.
She leaves in the middle of the night, leaving a letter for her father about her decision. She hopes he won’t hunt her down, because she’d hate to have to kill him. But she knows what she has to do. Someway, somehow, she has to find Gabriel- no, he’s Sylar now. The feared serial killer. Last she had heard, he had been in Texas, and had just killed a young waitress with perfect memory there. It seems like a good place to start her search. And if nothing else, she muses to herself, she could always land herself a waitressing job like Noah suggested all those months ago.
The first time she finds him in it’s in a dark alleyway and he refuses to talk to her. He calls her vicious words like cunt, bitch, slut and whore before slamming her into a wall with his telekinesis and knocking her out. When she wakes up, he is gone, and there is a small ache in her heart. He didn’t even stay long enough for her to get a chance to give him her present. Which means that she’ll just have to continue looking for him. She’s not used to caring about other people, about caring what she’s done to them. And she almost hates him for changing that. She liked the way she had been before. Cool, vicious, untouchable. Unbreakable. But it seems impossible to hate him, so she supposes she’ll just have to learn to deal with change.
The next thing she hears is that he’s in the Texan Primatech facility after being caught trying to kill a young cheerleader. It’s a good thing she hadn’t moved onto another state to continue her search yet. She makes a few phone calls and a few false promises to her father about rejoining the Company to get inside the building. As soon as she’s allowed access into the building she sneaks into the cell where they’re keeping him. She knows they won’t have long to talk before Bennet shows up and drags her out so she blows the cameras out before entering the cell. She just needs a few minutes to speak her piece and deliver what she’s brought for him, but if she can have more time than that with him, she certainly won’t object to it. Her heart pounds a little wildly in her chest as she approaches him. He’s more beautiful than she remembered him to be. Dark, handsome, dangerous. He looks like he could tear her apart.
“For a spineless whore, you’re braver than I would have thought,” Sylar growls roughly as he approaches her, menace in his eyes. “I spared you the last time we ran into one another, what makes you think I’m going to be so kind a second time around?” He backs her up so she’s pressed against the glass window. His hand comes up to press against her throat, choking her some. “So, since you’ve taken to stalking me, you might as well tell me why. As if you haven’t caused enough damage to my life. What more could you possibly want from me?” He smirks a little dangerously. “Or do you want me to kill you? Do you finally feel remorse over what you’ve done to me? Because if that’s the case, I would be more than happy to take that pretty little power of yours away.”
Elle takes a deep breath, trying to keep herself calm despite the fact that there’s a lack of oxygen coming through her airway. He’s scary, to be certain, but it’s kind of exciting at the same time. She can’t remember the last time she felt this sort of rush. Most people in life were just so boring. But not him. “I just wanted to give you this,” She holds out a small leather bound journal that she’s brought with her and places it into his hands. “It’s my journal, it has everything I’ve done, every person I’ve hurt, every lie I’ve ever told written down in perfect detail. You asked who I was before you threw me out of your apartment, so now you have the chance to find out. Read it, and when you’re done, if you want to, come find me, I promise, I won’t be hard to find. I’ve never given a shit about anyone before, Gabrie-“
His hand tightens around her throat causing her to flail some as he hisses out his reply. “My name is Sylar.”
Elle rolls her eyes a little. She supposes she should have expected that. “Fine, Sylar, whatever, the point is, I can’t get you out of my fucking head, and it’s been bugging the shit out of me. And I know I can’t fix what I did. But we could be good together. Us against the world, doesn’t that sound like fun?”
He pulls away from her, releasing her now. As she gasps for air, his mind begins to wander. He remains silent for a moment or two, as if mulling through the options in his head. He’s about to say something in response to her proposition when he hears footsteps coming from down the hall.
Elle frowns. “Shit. That sounds like Bennet. I have to go,” She pushes herself up on the balls of her feet and kisses him on the lips. “Find me when you get out, okay?” She leans in to whisper into his ear. “I’ve lowered the dosage of your medicine; you should be able to manage to escape within a few days.” She pulls away and glances at the journal and then him. “Read it, maybe it’ll help make things make more sense.” And then Elle exits the room and through the glass he can see Bennet escorting her and probably lecturing her all at the same time.
Sylar glances down at the book in his hand and sits down on the bed before opening it up. He supposes there was no time like the present to start. Not that he will forgive her. He’s just curious, that’s all. After all, she’s probably one of the most screwed up people he’s ever met in his life, he would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little intrigued to find out exactly just who or what has made her that way. He opens up to the first page, reading her entry.
Dear Dia-
Ugh, even writing that seems kind of lame, doesn’t it? I’m not even sure how to go about this. The newest therapist Daddy sent me to (the third one this year, or is it fourth? I’ve lost count) suggested I write out my ~feelings~ in order to become a more functional, less angry person. Whatever the hell that means. I wouldn’t get angry if people didn’t piss me off.
Sylar can’t help but chuckle a little to himself at that. The logic behind that reasoning makes sense. Sort of. She sounds so different here from the girl he had met back in his shop. It was fascinating, to say the very least.
So the head shrinker thought I should start out about writing about my childhood. I don’t really know what to write. A lot of it’s…really blurry. And the parts that aren’t, they aren’t that exciting. I wonder if they plan on reading this, if that’s why they asked me to write in here, cause I refuse to talk to them. I should just start making stuff up like my father molesting me and things like that, just to fuck with them. Now, that could be some actual fun. Because they’re always looking for a reason behind why I do the things I do. It couldn’t be that I just hurt people because it’s fun. Because I like watching them squirm and scream.
Because I’m powerful and they’re not.
I’m special, what more reason does there need to be?
Sylar tenses as he read that line. She isn’t that special. Not really. She is just a liar and a fake, and apparently a rather crazy one at that.
Daddy says if I’m real good though, he might let me on my first assignment soon. So I guess I’ll play along. It’d be nice to get out of this place for once. I can’t remember the last time I went outside. But everything’s been leading up to this. My whole life, I’ve been mastering my powers to become the best agent the Company has ever seen, and the last thing I want to do is let Daddy down.
Sylar rolls his eyes a little and skipped to another page. Her need for approval is getting a little repetitive there.
So, to cut to the chase, I lost my virginity today.
His eyes widen slightly at the bluntness of the statement and he finds himself intrigued, despite himself. He continues reading, wondering what will come next.
I don’t see why the movies made such a big deal about it, really. I mean, it wasn’t anything special. I finally turned legal today, so the first thing I did was go visit my favorite prisoner, Adam. I’ve asked him to fuck me in the past, but his argument was that it was illegal, since I was underage. Weird for a guy who’s already locked up. Even weirder for one who’s like a billion years old. I mean, isn’t everyone kind of like statutory to him?
Now, that catches Sylar’s attention. The way she is describing this person…he sounds like he possesses immortality. His body practically tingles at the idea of getting his hands on such a magnificent power. He would have to find this Adam person once he got out. He is definitely going onto the to kill list. He wonders if he will be any easier to get a hold of than that stupid cheerleader. One can only hope.
But whatever, he kept telling me he wouldn’t screw me until I was eighteen, so I waited, and I waited, and finally, today, he did it. It wasn’t anything special. I mean, it kind of hurt at first, and it made my electricity go all haywire. I didn’t even come. I usually come when I pleasure myself, but when he was sticking it in me? No such luck. I mean, he came, and I suppose that’s what matters to him. He told me it’ll get better as time goes on. That most girls don’t enjoy their first time. I suppose he’s taken enough virginities to know, one way or another. Maybe I’ll take him up on that whole trying again thing. Cause really, that was kind of anticlimactic. Hah! I totally didn’t even mean it that way, but it kind of works anyways. Cool.
Sylar tries to recall his own first time. It had been clumsy, at best, with a girl he had dated briefly in high school. He remembers being disgusted when he realized she had not been a virgin as well. She had been defiled by some other teenage boy, defiled. Unworthy. When he confronted her about it, she mocked him, calling him a naïve idiot. They broke up after that. At the time, he hadn’t felt sad about it though. Because it had been clear to him that he was so much better than she was. That is actually why the few other relationships he had had after that ended quickly as well, now that he thinks about it. Because he never can find someone who he feels actually deserved someone like him. They all fall short, one way or another. But he is getting sidetracked and he forces himself to focus back on Elle’s entries.
Right as he is about to continue reading, the door begins to open and he shoves the book underneath his pillow for the time being. It seems the doctors are here to take him in for more experiments.
Wonderful. Because that always makes for a good time.
He supposes he will just have to continue reading later. A disappointment, to be certain, but if there is one thing he had plenty of in this place, it is time. He can’t help but wonder if she had told the truth about lowering the doses of his medication, which will make it easier for him to eventually escape. But why would she do a thing like that? Why would she help him after everything else she’s done to him in the past? He doesn’t trust her for a moment. He knows better than that. After all, Gabriel had been naïve, but he, Sylar, is not.
Still, he can’t help but let his eyes linger toward his pillow, and the book hidden underneath. What other stories did she have to tell?
~*~*~*~
When he wakes up, bleary eyed and unfocused from the drugs they had pumped him full of during the exams, he isn’t sure what the tests today were supposed to figure out. Probably the same thing all the others seemed to be about. Finding out how he held so many powers in him. How he was able to take so much, so easily.
He can’t help but smirk a little to himself. No matter what sort of tests they run, he doubs they will ever be able to take him apart. Not if he has anything to do with it, anyways. He flexes his hand and focuses. Nothing. If Elle really did lower his doses, it was only slightly. His powers aren’t back yet.
So he supposes that for now, all he can do is read more. He digs underneath his pillow and pulls out her journal, turning to a random page now.
Okay, so my first mission out of the Company building was kind of lame.
Not even kind of. It was totally, completely lame.
Daddy sent me down to Texas to watch Bennet’s daughter. That perky, perfect little Cheerleader. With her happy parents and her friends and her school. It was kind of exciting though. I had never gone to a school before, even if I did look kind of out of place. I mean, I know I’m all tiny and stuff, but I’m pretty sure I don’t really pass for being a teenager anymore. Not easily. But I guess they must have bought it, cause they let me attend.
Anyways, I was supposed to be watching her to see if she had any powers or whatever.
Apparently, she comes from pretty powerful parents-
The Cheerleader. Her name is Claire and she’s adopted. Interesting. Sylar can’t help but wonder who the cheerleader’s real parents were, and what kind of wonderful powers they might have. That would definitely merit looking into once he got out of this place.
-so Daddy’s pretty sure she’ll manifest, and that maybe she’s done so already. But Bennet’s gotten too attached to her, more than he was ever supposed to, so if she did start showing powers, that’s where I come in. I was supposed to watch her and keep an eye on her and her little nerdy friend. Not the best of jobs, but it’s nice to get out once in a while, you know? See someone other than the usual inmates. I mean, most of them are just thugs. Except for Adam, but Daddy doesn’t let me spend much time with him anymore.
Sylar isn’t sure why that little bit of information causes him to feel relief, but for whatever reason, it does.
Anyways, of course, Bennet figured out what was going on. He helped train me; did Daddy really think he wasn’t going to notice me sniffing around his precious little Claire Bear? Not one of Daddy’s best moments, really. But I don’t even remember most of the mission cause I’m guessing Bennet got the Haitian to do his whole memory wiping thing on me. I fucking hate it when they do that to me. I should be allowed to know how I fucked up. How else am I supposed to improve? I mean, really.
Sylar feels another familiar shudder down his spine. Memory wiping? There were so many powers out there, so many wonderful things he could take. At the very least, she is giving him names to add to his list. He almost feels like he should be grateful to her for that.
The keyword is almost.
He skips to an earlier page. He supposes he should read in some sort of order, but he doesn’t really care. He is scanning it in a very scrutinizing fashion, trying to find any hints of humanity left in her. She said that after he read this, he might understand her better. He doesn’t want to believe that. It’s easier to demonize her. To think nothing but bad things about her. If there’s something redeemable to her…
Well, then things would start to get complicated again, and Sylar doesn’t like complicated. He doesn’t exactly have room for things like romance in his life. And he isn’t going to change any time soon. She had seen to that personally.
And yet despite the resentment and determination, he finds himself wanting to read everything in this precious little journal of hers. He convinces himself that it was just to prove her wrong. To rub it in her face that there was nothing redeemable about her. She is as damaged and doomed as he was, if not more so. And from what he’s read so far, all he can tell is that she’s a spoiled brat who throws temper tantrums when she doesn’t get her way.
The next entry, however, isn’t the sort of thing he was expecting at all.
The other day the head shrinker asked me if anyone had ever molested or otherwise abused me as a child. I fried him to a burnt little crisp for that. I thought Daddy would be proud. I had been defending his honor like that. Making sure that no one defiles his good name and standing.
Well, I guess I thought wrong because he threw me into solitary confinement for the next week after that incident.
It sucked. No food. And they sprayed me down so if I tried to use my powers at all, I’d only hurt myself. When I asked Daddy why he was doing this to me, he told me that it was for my own good. That I needed to learn self control. Self restraint. That I couldn’t do whatever I pleased. And when I asked why I couldn’t, he just shook his head and closed the door again. He left me in there for another two weeks. They wouldn’t even give me this to write in while I was stuck in there. It sucked.
Like, a lot.
Her father doesn’t sound like too honorable of a man, not from what Sylar can tell, anyway. It seems like Elle is often treated as a prisoner of this company just as much as he is, if not more so. He almost feels bad for her.
Almost.
Another page, another entry.
Okay, so maybe the shrink I fried had a point. I mean Daddy…he never hugs me. He never pats my head or calls me beautiful like Bennet does with his daughter. He’s always so cold. So mean to me. He never takes me out to buy me pretty clothes. He never talks to me unless it’s about my training or a mission he wants me to serve. I mean, I know he wants me to be the best agent I can be, and I appreciate that, I do,I really do, but sometimes.
Fuck, sometimes I just want him to be my dad and that’s it, you know? Is that so much to ask? I guess it is. Because he can’t do it. He can’t shut it off. He’s always Bob, one of the founding members of the Company, and never Bob, one of the biological contributors to Elle Bishop.
He wants me to be just like him.
He wants so much from me.
It’s just, too much pressure, you know?
Sylar does know. He can’t help but think briefly of his mother. She always has such high, unrealistic expectations for him. Strokes his hair and tells him how special he could be. How he could be so much more than just the son of a watchmaker. He can’t help but smirk a little to himself as he wonders just what she would think of him now, if she knew what she was now.
Because she’s right. He is special. A special person with a special calling in life, but one he doubts she would approve of.
So disapproving parents, well, he supposes that’s one thing he has in common with Elle. But he’s pretty sure that’s where the similarities end. And where they should end, for that matter.
He opens up to another page and drifts off as he reads.
I never expected to fall for an assignment….
~*~*~*~*~*
Sylar’s eyes fly open the next morning his brain still filled with his dreams from the night before. She had come to him, tears in her eyes. She had laid her head in his lap, begging for forgiveness, telling him about how she had never planned on any of this happening. But he had been ruthless in the dream, taking her head and snapping it with a satisfying twist before she could fill his head with more lies. But then, he had panicked, and he had tried to put her back together again, but no matter how he tried, all he was left with was her severed head.
He’s not sure exactly what the symbolism of such a dream is, but on the other hand, he’s pretty sure he doesn’t want to know either.
He vaguely remembers the last thing he read, and pulls her journal off of his chest. It had been something about falling for an assignment. His heart skips in spite of himself. Could she have meant him? But it isn’t possible. It had all been an act, a farce, a ploy to play him for a fool, hadn’t it? It’s so much easier to think she was playing him. Safer. And yet, he feels like he has to know. And right as he’s about to read, he hears the door click.
Those stupid doctors are back.
He sighs in annoyance and places the book back behind his pillow once more. He can’t help but feel a tang of disappointment as they drag him out for more testing. What if she has written about him? He’s morbidly curious about what she might have to say on the events that had transpired between them.
But then a doctor injects him with something and his vision begins to blur. The sounds around him become like white noise. He can hear them, but he can’t make out what they’re trying to say. Probably nothing important.
His last thoughts are the memory of her at his door, smiling brightly and asking if he liked pie.
He did. Peach is his favorite.
It’s store bought. He realizes that now.
Just how much else of her is fake?
~*~*~*~*~*~
He wakes up groggy and sore. He doesn’t know what they did to him this time. He’s pretty sure he doesn’t want to know. His head is shaved. That’s new. And not really the good sort of new, as it means they were probably trying to get into his head, and frankly, he prefers when he’s the one invading heads, not vice versa.
But they weren’t him. They didn’t have his talent for figuring out just how things worked. What made people tick, so even opening his head probably didn’t help them discover much about him.
He couldn’t help but smirk a little smugly at that thought. Good.
After a few moments pass, he remembers what he had meant to read earlier. He picks her book up from beneath his pillow and begins skimming through it. His eyebrows furrow as he becomes more and more frustrated.
That entry. That one he had been so certain was about him, and about her feelings for him, it is gone. It is almost like it vanished. For the life of him, he can’t find it now, and it is kind of pissing him off. What is pissing him off even more is the fact that he cares, one way or another. Because he shouldn’t. Not anymore.
But he does.
He cares and that pisses him off. He’s Sylar, not stupid lovesick Gabriel.
Elle’s a fake, he reminds himself. Not even her pie had been real. And he doesn’t need to have written proof that all her feelings for him had been false too. The assignment she fell for was probably someone else. He convinces himself of that, almost, and decides to stop looking for the entry for now.
So he settles on another one to read.
I fucked Adam for the last time tonight. I know, I know, I’ve said that a lot in the past, but I mean it this time. He’s just such a jerk. I mean, he’s clearly just using me because he has nothing better to do. Not to mention, I think he expects me to help bust him out. Uh. No. Daddy would kill me and he’s not that good of a fuck, you know? I mean, some of the agents I’ve fooled around with have been better, though they can’t heal up like Adam, which can be bothersome. Because then Daddy sees the burn marks, and somehow he always knows which ones are caused that way, and then I get in trouble. Apparently boys are distracting me from my training, or something like that.
Daddy can be a real stick in the mud sometimes. Or you know, all the time. One of the two.
Sylar chuckles to himself a little. She either really loves her father, or hates his guts. It’s hard to tell from the way she writes about him. Perhaps it was a bit of both. Probably. That’s how he is with his mother. He loves her, perhaps loves her more than he’s ever loved anyone, but on the opposite end of the spectrum he also hates her, and sometimes hates her more than anyone else in the world. So he can understand how thin and confusing that line can be, sometimes.
Anyways, I guess I’m getting a little off track, which I sort of do a lot, but who the hell cares? It’s not like anybody else is ever going to read this thing.
Once again, Sylar can’t help but laugh a little.
So the point is, this little fling with Adam? It’s finished. Done with. Over and out. Too much work and he’s not worth the hassle. He wines and wines and tries to pit me against Daddy and the Company and just bleh. He tried to threaten to expose our affair to Daddy, so then I shocked him in the balls and went to destroy all the video footage, just in case. I refuse to be anyone’s victim. Fuck that. That sort of thing is best saved for fairytales where princes on white horses really exist. Here in the real world, however, it’s everyone for themselves. And nothing’s taking me down.
And certainly not some crotchety three hundred year old man.
He can’t help but smirk a little at those sentiments. She has good survival instincts, he has to give her that much. But beyond that, he can’t help but feel relief that this Adam person had been nothing to her but something physical to be involved with. It actually relieves him to a point that he isn’t entirely comfortable with, in all honesty. So Adam wasn’t the assignment she fell for then. Someone else must fit the bill because he’s still rather convinced it can’t be him. If she had fallen for him then why would she have betrayed him like she did?
But then again, when she gave him this journal she seemed to have really regretted her actions. She seemed sincere, but he feels stupid to even think of trusting her again. What was that saying again? Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me. What if this was some way to trick him? Some way to lure him back here once he leaves? A way to keep him tied to the Company?
His paranoia tempts him to just stop reading, but he doesn’t want to do that either. He’s too curious. He wants to know what other stories she has to tell. What makes her tick. What’s made her so screwed up in the first place.
So with that in mind, he flips over to a new page now.
Another psych visit, another question about what my childhood was like. Is it really so weird that I don’t remember it like….at all really? They always ask about my mother, and I don’t know what to say. The truth? She died in a fire. A fire that I caused because my powers malfunctioned and burnt the house down, killing both her and grandpa. Daddy had to pick me up and suddenly become a parent after years of only being minimally involved in my life. I was six. He didn’t even seem to care that my mother was dead. He was much more interested in the fact that I had manifested a power. That night he showed me what he could do, turning things into gold. He explained to me that people like us, people with powers have a responsibility.
I remember thinking the gold was so pretty. He was like King Midas. I wanted to be turned to gold like the daughter in the story. That way I could never kill any more mothers. But no such luck. That would probably have to involve Daddy touching me more. Daddy never seems to touch me unless he has to.
Once again, as Elle talks about her father, Sylar can’t help but think of his mother. Virginia is always so touchy with him; it was kind of annoying, actually. He thinks it might be a little refreshing to have a parent who didn’t like touching him so much. He can’t even really imagine what that would be like. His father had never been as touchy, that was true, but his father’s been dead for a few years now. Gabriel has taken his place as the only man in his mother’s life. But that place was taxing at times, that much was certain.
We lived in Ohio at the time. I went into work occasionally with him sometimes, but I still lived in a house then. The testing wasn’t so intense. But then I got scared one night, and lost control of my powers. I knocked out all the electricity in three counties. People in hospitals died because of it. People were hurt because of it. It caused all sorts of disasters.
It seemed like I couldn’t do anything right.
He took me into the Company for good after that. Said that I had to learn control or more people would get hurt, and I didn’t want that, did I?
The fucked up thing is I sort of did. I wonder what that says about me.
It is a strange sentiment to relate to, and yet Sylar can understand where she was coming from. There was something invigorating about causing pain. The power, the control that came with being the inflicter. There wasn’t another feeling like that in the world.
I guess that’s why they call me a sociopath at worst, and a sadist at best.
The doctor’s have been calling him a psychopath. A killer with no remorse (they were wrong, he feels remorse sometimes, he just keeps it to himself.) He supposes that’s another thing they have in common. Being judged for their natures, just because they don’t live the traditional sort of lives.
The more he reads, the more he discovers he has in common with Elle. Sylar isn’t sure how he feels about that revelation. It’s comforting and scary all at once, if that’s at all possible. He doesn’t want to relate to her. To feel compassion for her. There is safety in demonizing her.
So he supposes she must be getting what she wanted, in a way.
He flips to another page, as reading about her childhood was making him far too thoughtful and almost…kind.
I killed on the job again today.
Sylar smirks a little. Now this was more like it. Juicer. More interesting. Better than her woes about how Daddy didn’t love her enough. Did anyone’s father truly love them enough? He doubts it. Parents are generally disappointments, his own definitely included in that. In fact, his parents are probably the best example of that fact. Poor, ordinary people who were trying to drag their child down into a mundane existence. He hasn’t seen his mother since he left Queens, only leaving her the occasional phone call so she doesn’t think he’s dead, but he doesn’t miss her. Not quite anymore. It’s a little different now. More so, he misses what she had represented to him.
But now Sylar is getting sidetracked again, and pushes away thoughts of his mother in order to focus on the rest of Elle’s entry.
In my defense the guy was super creepy and not giving me any answers. I guess the special we were looking for was his sister or some shit like that. Like I care. But he was getting all handsy over me, trying to threaten me into submission. And then he slammed me against the wall and jammed his hand down my pants, and what was I supposed to do? Just stand there and let myself get raped by that creep?
Apparently.
Sylar doesn’t notice his fingers digging into his legs until he feels the sharp pain of the skin being broken. The idea of some slimy guy putting his hands all over her, defiling her, degrading her, it is enough to make him feel sick.
Not that he cares.
Because he doesn’t.
He is simply continuing to read because he sure as hell doesn’t have anything better to do around this place.
Maybe if he tells himself that enough, he’ll start believing it.
Still, he can’t help but feel a little proud of her. She didn’t play the victim. She stood up for herself. She was strong, made of tough stuff, he has to admit. He has to give her that much credit at the very least.
Daddy said if I didn’t throw myself at so many men, people wouldn’t get the wrong ideas about my virtues, and I was to blame for putting myself in such a position to begin. Whatever. It’s not like I was running around with a giant stamp on my head that said, “RAPE ME”
Wasn’t there a song with that title?
There is. Not that Sylar is a big fan of music like Nirvana. Well, he appreciates it more now.
But Gabriel has always been a fan of classical musical and stuff like the big bands from the forties.
But he isn’t Gabriel anymore, now is he?
In any case, the guy was totally slimy and trying to force me and shit, so I blew him to smithereens. Fried him up good. I thought Daddy would be proud. His little girl defended herself.
But it wasn’t enough.
Nothing I ever do is fucking enough for that man.
Again, despite himself, Sylar can understand where she’s coming from. Because his mother was the same way. She had always pushed him. Telling him he could be more, that being a watchmaker wasn’t enough.
He had to be special.
He wonders if any parent is satisfied with what their children become. He has yet to encounter one who shows that kind of unconditional love. Except maybe the Cheerleader’s father. The man who brought him in here in the first place.
But apparently, a good agent is more important than my…whatever. Safety. Daddy said he was disappointed that I let something like that bother me. That he had raised me to be better than that. Normal girls would freak out in such a situation, but not his daughter.
How strange, considering he usually gets angry about all the men I allow to fuck me. The one time I didn’t want to let it happen, and he acts like it’s the end of the fucking world.
I swear, no matter what I do, I can’t win.
Maybe I’ll go bug Noah. He’s always nicer to me than Daddy ever is. I think its cause my blonde hair reminds him of Claire. Whatever.
The entry ends there. And there is the buzzer, a sign that someone was about to come in with his dinner. The food here tastes like shit, but it is better than nothing.
It does seem strange to him that they seem so determined to keep him alive and in good health, despite everything he’s done. All the people he’s killed in the past. He wonders if maybe they have plans for him. But he hides away the journal and as he replaces the pillow, he notices he’s able to move it a little without touching it.
Which meant Elle really did lower his medicine.
Now all he has to do is wait until the medicine completely wears off so he can make his great escape. He’s spent too much time in this his hell hole already. And once he’s out, he’ll have other things to do. He’ll forget about her journal.
It was distracting him from his goals, and that simply is not okay.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Daddy put me on a field assignment with Noah. I’m pretty excited, I gotta admit. I’ve only had a few after that disaster with trying to spy on Claire (I still don’t see what’s so special about her). We’re going to go watch some young watchmaker. Apparently he can take powers from people or some shit like that.
Sylar finds himself sitting more rigid, more alert. He had opened her journal out of boredom, and finally found the part he had been looking for.
The part about him. About her thoughts about being assigned to him. He hadn’t even realized before how curious he was to hear her side of the story. But as of right now, he really wants to read it.
I guess I have to seduce him or something, make him trust me. Shouldn’t be too hard. I seduce people all the time around the Company. Though I have to say this is the first time Daddy has asked me to seduce someone for him. It’s kind of funny, considering how he usually bitches at me. But maybe he figures he might as well play to my strengths. Besides, if this guy is really as dangerous as Daddy and Noah claim him to be, I can take care of myself.
Sylar’s stomach growls and he knows that someone will be coming with his food soon, but he doesn’t want to stop reading, not now. Not when he is getting so close. To what? Truth? Resolution? Confirmation? He’s not sure why, but he feels like its imperative he keeps reading. There is no more to the entry, so he moves onto the next page to see if she’s written anything else. She has.
So, that wasn’t what I was expecting at all. I’m not sure what I was expecting. Maybe some sort of power hungry megalomaniac or something.
Sylar can’t help but smirk a little. People might not have called him one then, but they certainly call him that now. And worse.
The last thing I was expecting was some poor sap hanging himself from the noose. The way Daddy and Noah described him….he seemed like some kind of monster or something. Someone who I shouldn’t trust no matter what. I was expecting him to be skeevy, and scary, but he was none of those things.
He was…he was so gentle. I mean, it was a little pathetic, the way he clung to me at first. I mean, really, crying doesn’t even look good on women, and it looks worse on men.
He rolls his eyes at this. He’s pretty sure crying and suicide attempts probably go pretty hand in hand, but he continues reading. Because her words…well they aren’t what he was expecting to read. Not that he really knows what to expect anymore, but still. The point remains.
He called me an angel.
If only he had known better. But he still remembers how beautiful she had looked in that moment, golden hair framing her face like a halo. She showed up right as the rope broke (he only realized later that her power had been the reason the rope broke in the first place), what was he supposed to think?
No one’s ever called me something so nice before. Not ever. Daddy never had cute nicknames for me like “Angel” or “Princess.” The other people in the Company…well, they have names for me, but they don’t tend to be very nice ones. It was really strange to hear someone say something so nice to me.
I mean, he’s wrong, because by the end of all of this, he’s going to hate me.
She’s right about that, though there’s a nagging voice in Sylar’s head that suggests maybe he doesn’t hate her as much as he claims to. Because if he does, why is he so interested in her side of the story. It’s rather annoying how much harder it seems to be getting to ignore that voice and it’s stupid insight.
Bennet says I should win him over with pie. I felt like he meant something more with that, but I don’t know. I guess it goes well with that old fashioned girl next door look they have me sporting. I have no idea how to bake though. I mean, it’s not like I had a mother or anybody else to teach me about those sort of things growing up, you know? No guidance.
I guess I’ll have to find a bakery to go buy one from or something. I hope he likes peach, because if I’m going to get pie, I’m getting the kind I like the best.
So it’s her favorite too. He idly wonders why she never mentioned it to him. He supposes it doesn’t matter. He feels an empty disappointment at the confirmation that the pie had indeed been bought from a store. He’s not sure why he feels disappointed when he had already suspected it. But he does.
The clothes Noah’s picked out me look like they were made for someone who lived like forty years ago or something. So stuffy and old fashioned. But I guess it fits Gabriel’s style. I mean, he’s all pomade and sweater vests, and it should look dorky and ridiculous, but it kind of works for him, in a weird way.
He’s definitely one of the better looking assignments I’ve had to look after.
Sylar can’t help but preen a little at that.
So I suppose I can play Suzy Homemaker for him. See if he’ll open up some more. I can only hope he will. Man, it would be so much easier to just bag and tag him. But Daddy clearly trusts me, putting me on such an important, dangerous mission.
I’m not going to let him down. Not this time.
The entry ends. He’s about to turn the page when he hears the door open, admitting the agent who was bringing in his dinner. He stuffs the journal underneath his pillow and eats his food. The whole time, his stomach feels queasy and off, and as bad as the Company food can be sometimes, he’s pretty sure the feeling has nothing to do with that.
When he finally goes to bed for the night, he dreams of her. It was that fateful night again. But this time she comes clean, and shows her powers to him. He almost kills her, but ends up fucking her. Even though it’s a dream, she feels tight, warm, and wet around him.
He wakes up in the morning with the worst case of morning wood since he was about thirteen. He once again finds himself at a loss for what all this means, but all he really knows is that it makes him uncomfortable, by a long shot. He almost wishes he had just given the journal back to her when he had the chance.
But it’s too late. He’s already read so much of it now. And he’s never been one to not finish a book.
*~*~*~*~*~*
After the testing of the day he comes back to his cell, and he’s satisfied to find he can bring the book to him now. His powers were coming back more strongly. He’s delighted to discover this. Just a few more days until he gets out of this hell hole.
And then what? He goes after her? Runs after her like some fucking puppy?
He’s not sure.
He likes to think that he’d confront her. Tell her that her little sob story doesn’t matter (because it doesn’t, he swears it doesn’t) and then pop her top off. Steal her sparks and be done with it.
He pictures her terrified, whimpering expression and he practically gets off on it.
With that in mind, he opens up her journal once more. This time, he marked his place so he doesn’t have to look around for where he left off.
I never expected to fall for an assignment.
He lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding in. So he hadn’t dreamt that entry up. He sits up a little more now, alert and curious.
I mean, really, why did he have to be all sweet and earnest? And kind of crazy intense all at once. I felt horrible stealing that list from him.
I really…he doesn’t seem that bad of a person. Not like me. I mean, he’s trying to learn how to control himself, so he doesn’t kill again.
I wouldn’t know self control if it bit me in the ass, honestly. And how many people have I killed just because they pissed me off? Or I was bored? Or someone else pissed me off, like Daddy or Noah? I mean, at least Gabriel had a reason why he killed.
Sylar snorts a little at that. He can’t help but find amusement in the fact that she thinks having a reason made murder okay. Even he knew that killing people was never okay.
He just doesn’t particularly care anymore. It got easier with each kill to push away that old Catholic remorse of his.
But I mean…he seemed so vulnerable. So open. And when he said about just being able to be himself with me?
I don’t think anyone has ever been that nice to me.
Like ever.
I probably shouldn’t have encouraged him with that whole “special just the way you are” bit but I couldn’t help it.
I tried to talk Noah out of baiting him. I tried to convince him that we should go after someone else on the list. Spare Gabriel.
But orders are orders, according to Noah. And they want to see Gabriel kill. They want to see him kill.
He told me I either follow orders, or I don’t get to go home. No more being an Agent. No more Daddy. No more anything.
I almost did it. But I have no job skills, no formal education, and nowhere to go. What the fuck would I do? I suppose I could go confess the truth to Gabriel, but what if he just turns on me and kills me?
Sylar has no idea what he would have done if things had played themselves out that way. He can’t picture it. She’s probably right though. He probably would have killed her, all things considered.
Can you blame me for sacrificing his humanity to save my own life?
Yes.
So I suppose now I have to call up that Trevor guy and get ready to play the harlot tomorrow night. It’s the role I was born to play, after all.
Still. It was nice, even for a moment, to pretend what a normal relationship would feel like. I wish it could have lasted.
So did Sylar, though he will never admit it out loud.
The entry ends there, and he debates just going on and reading her take on her betrayal. But he can’t. Not right now. It’s too much. He’s taking in too much at once and it’s making him fucking soft and he kind of hates her for it.
Except that hatred is mixed with something else, which makes him all the more pissed, honestly.
So he puts the journal away and closes his eyes and tries his hardest to think of anything other than Elle.
He fails.
~*~*~*~*~
The next day comes and he can no longer put off his curiosity. He has to know what her reaction, her justifciation to betraying him was like. He’s not sure why it’s so vital to know this, all he knows is that it is. And that’s enough for him.
So he levitates the book out and turns to the page he left off on. His powers have started working more and more now, and he’s almost positive that if he wants to escape today, he’ll be able to. But for now, he reads.
I made a huge mistake.
His attention is instantly drawn to her words. He sits up a little straighter, concentrating on the words on the page.
I should have refused. I should have not brought Trevor over. I should have told Gabriel the truth before it was too late. Or…Something. I should have done something. Anything other than what I did.
Sylar’s chest tightens and he almost feels like he’s reliving the betrayal all over again. He wonders if this is what PTSD feels like.
But it’s too late.
Is it? He’s not sure anymore.
I ruined everything.
She did, didn’t she?
I just thought…I just thought….
She just thought what?
I just thought he would be stronger than that. That he was trying to fight it for himself, and not just me. He would resist and then the Company would have been wrong, and we could have been happy together.
I wanted so badly to be happy together.
I’ve never wanted anyone like this in my life, and after a few days, it’s like he’s taken over my every being.
The feeling is mutual, he thinks to himself. It’s like she’s in his veins. No matter what he tries, he can’t get rid of her. He can’t purge himself of her. It drives him kind of insane.
More than kind of, even.
Still, after blaming her for everything over and over again, it’s almost eye opening to think that some of it was his own fault. Even if she had tricked him, the choice had always been his, hadn’t it? He could have been the bigger person. He could have resisted killing Trevor.
But he didn’t.
Because he doesn’t want to be just Gabriel, and even when he talked to her about that, he never quite meant it. For the first time he realizes that he had been deceiving her just as much as she had been deceiving him. Maybe even more so.
The realization makes him feel sort of sick to his stomach.
It all went so bad so quickly, I wonder when it became the point of no return. Was it hopeless as soon as introduced Trevor? Was it always hopeless?
Why did I listen to Daddy?
Why do I always do as I’m told and not what I want.
But she’s not just following orders anymore. The fact that she gave him this journal and lowered his medications was proof that she was learning how to think for herself. She was becoming her own, independent person. Good for her.
Not that he cares.
Okay, so maybe he does.
I should have tried harder to stop him. I shouldn’t have run away like a coward. I should have refused. Maybe I could have helped him, somehow.
But maybe he would have killed me too.
He had certainly thought of it at the time, and many times since then. He has to wonder whether he’d actually be able to go through with it or not. He’s not sure anymore.
He’s not sure of much anymore.
Maybe someday I’ll try to find a way to make things up to him. Is it naive of me to think that’s even possible?
Perhaps it is, but it almost warms his heart anyways. He sets the book down. He’s sure there’s more, but he’s read enough already. He knows what he has to do now. He brings a hand up and pulls the door open with his telekinesis.
Good, his powers are at full strength again. Now all he has to do is find Elle and then…
Well, and then he’s not sure. He’ll figure that along the way. He makes his way down the halls of the Company, smirking to himself as agents try to stop him. He holds his hand out, throwing them against the wall, one by one. He’s sure that some of them have powers, but that’ll have to wait.
His mind is focused on Elle, and until he finds her again, everything else simply doesn’t matter as much anymore. Powers, revenge, all the rest of that can wait. It’s unsettling to want to find her so badly. He knows powers should come first, they always did before. And he’s found out about such good ones through her journal: memory repression, turning things into gold, another person who could heal like the gifted little cheerleader, so many delicious little powers. But all he could think of her were pretty little blue sparks.
~*~*~*~*~*~
It takes him weeks to find her. He’s usually good at finding people, but she must know how to hide, because she wasn’t as easy as his previous victims.
Okay, so she wasn’t a victim yet. And he hasn’t quite decided whether he wants to kill her yet or not, but that’s all besides the point, really. Small details that he could figure out later.
He wasn’t going to worry about it for now.
Well, as much as he could allow himself not to worry about it, anyways.
He finds her working in a small diner in California. She’s not a good waitress. She trips, and breaks glasses, and curses out customers. He lingers in the dark, sipping coffee and watching her like a hunter would watch his prey. She’s kind of oddly fascinating.
She doesn’t notice him. It’s all for the best, really, that she doesn’t.
He follows her outside of the diner and into an alley way, where she’s making her way to her car. She almost sees him a few times, but he steps into the shadows whenever she looks behind her.
Finally, she calls out, “You can come out now, I know you’re there.”
He chuckled softly to himself, stepping outside of the alleyway now. “You’re more perceptive than I gave you credit for.”
Elle rolls her eyes a little at that. “You think I didn’t notice you sitting there in the back, watching me while you sat there during my whole shift. You could have at least ordered more than coffee if you were going to do that.”
“Yeah, maybe a polite man would have, but I’m not exactly polite.”
Elle laughs a little too mirthlessly, like she’s trying to cover up something. Unease, maybe? “You’re not exactly a man, either.”
A frown sets across his features and he takes a threatening step closer to her. He reaches out into his pocket, thrusting her journal out at her. “Why did you give this to me,” He demands. Because he didn’t come this far not to get answers from her, damnit.
“Why do you think I gave it to you, Gabriel?” She turns the question back to him, her eyes twinkling with mischief.
He takes a step closer to her now, grabbing her wrists tightly. He growls as he pulls her in closer to him now. “My name is Sylar.”
“And you’re avoiding the question,” She smirks, challenging him. If she’s at all nervous by how close he’s pulled her in, she’s doing a fantastic job at not showing it. She seems calm, composed, sure of herself. So different from when he last saw her, when she gave him the journal.
Which makes him question, which one is the act?
“Why do you think I gave it to you, Gabriel?” Elle asks carefully again.
“Because you felt sorry for yourself,” He spits in anger, tightening his grip on her wrists. He has to cling onto that anger, because if he lets it go, too much else will be at risk. “You want me to forgive you so you don’t feel guilty anymore. So you can absolve yourself of your sins.”
Elle rolls her eyes at that. “Wrong,” she mutters, letting out a large enough electrical discharge that he has to let go of her. Her heels click against the cement as she takes a step closer to him, grabbing his chin. She forces his eyes to look into her own. “I did it so you would understand. You were demonizing me, and you needed to see the truth. Open your eyes and stop acting like a victim. It’s easy enough to blame others for your actions. I know for a while, I blamed Daddy, I blamed Noah, the Company, anyone but myself over what happened to you. But ultimately, everything was choice, don’t you see that?”
And he does. He thinks briefly of the moment when he realized the lack of control he had had.
The blame that could only be placed on him. But even though he’s realized that on a personal level doesn’t mean he’s accepted it. And it certainly doesn’t mean that he wants to admit it to her, of all people. He flicks his wrist, pushing her away and into the wall. A small smirk spreads across his lips as she cries out in pain. Good. She deserves to be hurt. “I’m glad you had your little epiphany, I am,” He drawls, taking another step closer to her. “But I don’t see what that has to do with me.”
“You made a choice, Gabriel, you chose to kill Trevor. I fucked up, but I didn’t make you a killer. You did,” She hisses, sparks flying in disarray. “I’m not telling you that you need to forgive me, or forgive yourself or any of that bullshit, but own up to it. Be your own person.”
“Like you are?” He asks sarcastically. He should have just killed her right away. He doesn’t like that he’s letting her bait him, but he’s letting her do it anyways.
“Yes. I escaped the Company, and I left you that journal because I knew you would too. You’re stronger than them and anything else in this world. I wasn’t lying before. You are special, just the way you, whatever you are. “
“Shut up,” He growls, closing his hand to choke her airway. He doesn’t want to listen to her, to let her poison his mind again, but at the same time, he does. It’s a conflicting feeling. He never did like confliction. He likes clarity.
“Kill me,” She dares him, letting out a small laugh erupt between her choking coughs. Her blue eyes showed no fear. She’s supposed to be afraid of him. But she isn’t. “If you’re going to kill me, go ahead and do it already, but don’t you think it would be more fun if you kept me alive. I could help you.”
He loosens the grip a little. He’d be lying if he said he isn’t intrigued by her words. “Help me? How can you help me, other than giving me that pretty little spark of yours?” Because he wants it. Electricity, what a delicious power.
But he wants her even more, and that scares him. It’s all the more reason to kill her.
“Because, you know those powers I wrote about?”
“Memory wiping, immortality, turning things into gold, I do remember them quite vividly. I plan on taking each one after this.”
“I can lead you to them, and lots more. I’ve learned of a lot of different, special abilities while I’ve worked in the Company” She offers with a dangerous smile. “Let me be the Bonnie to your Clyde.”
“Even your father’s power?” He asks with a raised brow.
“Even that one. Consider it my penance.”
And people thought he was deranged. She’s offering up her father like it’s nothing to her. Then again, from what he read, her father kind of sounded like an asshole, so it sort of made sense.
He releases her, causing her to fall to the ground. “Fine, you can come up with me. But the moment you get on my nerves too much, I’m killing you. You understand that, don’t you?”
Elle giggles as she rises to her feet. She wraps her arms around him tightly before tilting her head up to press a kiss against his lips. “You won’t regret this.”
He says nothing in response because he’s pretty sure he already does.
But what can you do?
Title: I Know You’ll Keep Them, And This Is What I’ve Done
Word Count: 10, 278
Pairing: Sylar/Elle with past references to Adam/Elle and Elle/Random Company Men
Rating: R
Summary: AU. After Sylar is captured by Primatech (after Homecoming) Elle visits him and gives him a gift. It's a journal explaining how she's become the person she is now, and an attempt to help him understand why she did what she did to him.
Author’s Note: This started as an answer to a prompt faded_facade made on the movie fic meme, but it begged me to expand the story. So this is what happened. acinogan, dragynflies, and stainofmylove are my eternal saviors for betaing and helping me find direction to this story. Art has been done by both faded_facade which can be found here and by juliet42 which will be added once I get the link. Written for heroes_bigboom.
It takes six months after betraying Gabriel before Elle finally decides to leave the Company.
She leaves in the middle of the night, leaving a letter for her father about her decision. She hopes he won’t hunt her down, because she’d hate to have to kill him. But she knows what she has to do. Someway, somehow, she has to find Gabriel- no, he’s Sylar now. The feared serial killer. Last she had heard, he had been in Texas, and had just killed a young waitress with perfect memory there. It seems like a good place to start her search. And if nothing else, she muses to herself, she could always land herself a waitressing job like Noah suggested all those months ago.
The first time she finds him in it’s in a dark alleyway and he refuses to talk to her. He calls her vicious words like cunt, bitch, slut and whore before slamming her into a wall with his telekinesis and knocking her out. When she wakes up, he is gone, and there is a small ache in her heart. He didn’t even stay long enough for her to get a chance to give him her present. Which means that she’ll just have to continue looking for him. She’s not used to caring about other people, about caring what she’s done to them. And she almost hates him for changing that. She liked the way she had been before. Cool, vicious, untouchable. Unbreakable. But it seems impossible to hate him, so she supposes she’ll just have to learn to deal with change.
The next thing she hears is that he’s in the Texan Primatech facility after being caught trying to kill a young cheerleader. It’s a good thing she hadn’t moved onto another state to continue her search yet. She makes a few phone calls and a few false promises to her father about rejoining the Company to get inside the building. As soon as she’s allowed access into the building she sneaks into the cell where they’re keeping him. She knows they won’t have long to talk before Bennet shows up and drags her out so she blows the cameras out before entering the cell. She just needs a few minutes to speak her piece and deliver what she’s brought for him, but if she can have more time than that with him, she certainly won’t object to it. Her heart pounds a little wildly in her chest as she approaches him. He’s more beautiful than she remembered him to be. Dark, handsome, dangerous. He looks like he could tear her apart.
“For a spineless whore, you’re braver than I would have thought,” Sylar growls roughly as he approaches her, menace in his eyes. “I spared you the last time we ran into one another, what makes you think I’m going to be so kind a second time around?” He backs her up so she’s pressed against the glass window. His hand comes up to press against her throat, choking her some. “So, since you’ve taken to stalking me, you might as well tell me why. As if you haven’t caused enough damage to my life. What more could you possibly want from me?” He smirks a little dangerously. “Or do you want me to kill you? Do you finally feel remorse over what you’ve done to me? Because if that’s the case, I would be more than happy to take that pretty little power of yours away.”
Elle takes a deep breath, trying to keep herself calm despite the fact that there’s a lack of oxygen coming through her airway. He’s scary, to be certain, but it’s kind of exciting at the same time. She can’t remember the last time she felt this sort of rush. Most people in life were just so boring. But not him. “I just wanted to give you this,” She holds out a small leather bound journal that she’s brought with her and places it into his hands. “It’s my journal, it has everything I’ve done, every person I’ve hurt, every lie I’ve ever told written down in perfect detail. You asked who I was before you threw me out of your apartment, so now you have the chance to find out. Read it, and when you’re done, if you want to, come find me, I promise, I won’t be hard to find. I’ve never given a shit about anyone before, Gabrie-“
His hand tightens around her throat causing her to flail some as he hisses out his reply. “My name is Sylar.”
Elle rolls her eyes a little. She supposes she should have expected that. “Fine, Sylar, whatever, the point is, I can’t get you out of my fucking head, and it’s been bugging the shit out of me. And I know I can’t fix what I did. But we could be good together. Us against the world, doesn’t that sound like fun?”
He pulls away from her, releasing her now. As she gasps for air, his mind begins to wander. He remains silent for a moment or two, as if mulling through the options in his head. He’s about to say something in response to her proposition when he hears footsteps coming from down the hall.
Elle frowns. “Shit. That sounds like Bennet. I have to go,” She pushes herself up on the balls of her feet and kisses him on the lips. “Find me when you get out, okay?” She leans in to whisper into his ear. “I’ve lowered the dosage of your medicine; you should be able to manage to escape within a few days.” She pulls away and glances at the journal and then him. “Read it, maybe it’ll help make things make more sense.” And then Elle exits the room and through the glass he can see Bennet escorting her and probably lecturing her all at the same time.
Sylar glances down at the book in his hand and sits down on the bed before opening it up. He supposes there was no time like the present to start. Not that he will forgive her. He’s just curious, that’s all. After all, she’s probably one of the most screwed up people he’s ever met in his life, he would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little intrigued to find out exactly just who or what has made her that way. He opens up to the first page, reading her entry.
Dear Dia-
Ugh, even writing that seems kind of lame, doesn’t it? I’m not even sure how to go about this. The newest therapist Daddy sent me to (the third one this year, or is it fourth? I’ve lost count) suggested I write out my ~feelings~ in order to become a more functional, less angry person. Whatever the hell that means. I wouldn’t get angry if people didn’t piss me off.
Sylar can’t help but chuckle a little to himself at that. The logic behind that reasoning makes sense. Sort of. She sounds so different here from the girl he had met back in his shop. It was fascinating, to say the very least.
So the head shrinker thought I should start out about writing about my childhood. I don’t really know what to write. A lot of it’s…really blurry. And the parts that aren’t, they aren’t that exciting. I wonder if they plan on reading this, if that’s why they asked me to write in here, cause I refuse to talk to them. I should just start making stuff up like my father molesting me and things like that, just to fuck with them. Now, that could be some actual fun. Because they’re always looking for a reason behind why I do the things I do. It couldn’t be that I just hurt people because it’s fun. Because I like watching them squirm and scream.
Because I’m powerful and they’re not.
I’m special, what more reason does there need to be?
Sylar tenses as he read that line. She isn’t that special. Not really. She is just a liar and a fake, and apparently a rather crazy one at that.
Daddy says if I’m real good though, he might let me on my first assignment soon. So I guess I’ll play along. It’d be nice to get out of this place for once. I can’t remember the last time I went outside. But everything’s been leading up to this. My whole life, I’ve been mastering my powers to become the best agent the Company has ever seen, and the last thing I want to do is let Daddy down.
Sylar rolls his eyes a little and skipped to another page. Her need for approval is getting a little repetitive there.
So, to cut to the chase, I lost my virginity today.
His eyes widen slightly at the bluntness of the statement and he finds himself intrigued, despite himself. He continues reading, wondering what will come next.
I don’t see why the movies made such a big deal about it, really. I mean, it wasn’t anything special. I finally turned legal today, so the first thing I did was go visit my favorite prisoner, Adam. I’ve asked him to fuck me in the past, but his argument was that it was illegal, since I was underage. Weird for a guy who’s already locked up. Even weirder for one who’s like a billion years old. I mean, isn’t everyone kind of like statutory to him?
Now, that catches Sylar’s attention. The way she is describing this person…he sounds like he possesses immortality. His body practically tingles at the idea of getting his hands on such a magnificent power. He would have to find this Adam person once he got out. He is definitely going onto the to kill list. He wonders if he will be any easier to get a hold of than that stupid cheerleader. One can only hope.
But whatever, he kept telling me he wouldn’t screw me until I was eighteen, so I waited, and I waited, and finally, today, he did it. It wasn’t anything special. I mean, it kind of hurt at first, and it made my electricity go all haywire. I didn’t even come. I usually come when I pleasure myself, but when he was sticking it in me? No such luck. I mean, he came, and I suppose that’s what matters to him. He told me it’ll get better as time goes on. That most girls don’t enjoy their first time. I suppose he’s taken enough virginities to know, one way or another. Maybe I’ll take him up on that whole trying again thing. Cause really, that was kind of anticlimactic. Hah! I totally didn’t even mean it that way, but it kind of works anyways. Cool.
Sylar tries to recall his own first time. It had been clumsy, at best, with a girl he had dated briefly in high school. He remembers being disgusted when he realized she had not been a virgin as well. She had been defiled by some other teenage boy, defiled. Unworthy. When he confronted her about it, she mocked him, calling him a naïve idiot. They broke up after that. At the time, he hadn’t felt sad about it though. Because it had been clear to him that he was so much better than she was. That is actually why the few other relationships he had had after that ended quickly as well, now that he thinks about it. Because he never can find someone who he feels actually deserved someone like him. They all fall short, one way or another. But he is getting sidetracked and he forces himself to focus back on Elle’s entries.
Right as he is about to continue reading, the door begins to open and he shoves the book underneath his pillow for the time being. It seems the doctors are here to take him in for more experiments.
Wonderful. Because that always makes for a good time.
He supposes he will just have to continue reading later. A disappointment, to be certain, but if there is one thing he had plenty of in this place, it is time. He can’t help but wonder if she had told the truth about lowering the doses of his medication, which will make it easier for him to eventually escape. But why would she do a thing like that? Why would she help him after everything else she’s done to him in the past? He doesn’t trust her for a moment. He knows better than that. After all, Gabriel had been naïve, but he, Sylar, is not.
Still, he can’t help but let his eyes linger toward his pillow, and the book hidden underneath. What other stories did she have to tell?
~*~*~*~
When he wakes up, bleary eyed and unfocused from the drugs they had pumped him full of during the exams, he isn’t sure what the tests today were supposed to figure out. Probably the same thing all the others seemed to be about. Finding out how he held so many powers in him. How he was able to take so much, so easily.
He can’t help but smirk a little to himself. No matter what sort of tests they run, he doubs they will ever be able to take him apart. Not if he has anything to do with it, anyways. He flexes his hand and focuses. Nothing. If Elle really did lower his doses, it was only slightly. His powers aren’t back yet.
So he supposes that for now, all he can do is read more. He digs underneath his pillow and pulls out her journal, turning to a random page now.
Okay, so my first mission out of the Company building was kind of lame.
Not even kind of. It was totally, completely lame.
Daddy sent me down to Texas to watch Bennet’s daughter. That perky, perfect little Cheerleader. With her happy parents and her friends and her school. It was kind of exciting though. I had never gone to a school before, even if I did look kind of out of place. I mean, I know I’m all tiny and stuff, but I’m pretty sure I don’t really pass for being a teenager anymore. Not easily. But I guess they must have bought it, cause they let me attend.
Anyways, I was supposed to be watching her to see if she had any powers or whatever.
Apparently, she comes from pretty powerful parents-
The Cheerleader. Her name is Claire and she’s adopted. Interesting. Sylar can’t help but wonder who the cheerleader’s real parents were, and what kind of wonderful powers they might have. That would definitely merit looking into once he got out of this place.
-so Daddy’s pretty sure she’ll manifest, and that maybe she’s done so already. But Bennet’s gotten too attached to her, more than he was ever supposed to, so if she did start showing powers, that’s where I come in. I was supposed to watch her and keep an eye on her and her little nerdy friend. Not the best of jobs, but it’s nice to get out once in a while, you know? See someone other than the usual inmates. I mean, most of them are just thugs. Except for Adam, but Daddy doesn’t let me spend much time with him anymore.
Sylar isn’t sure why that little bit of information causes him to feel relief, but for whatever reason, it does.
Anyways, of course, Bennet figured out what was going on. He helped train me; did Daddy really think he wasn’t going to notice me sniffing around his precious little Claire Bear? Not one of Daddy’s best moments, really. But I don’t even remember most of the mission cause I’m guessing Bennet got the Haitian to do his whole memory wiping thing on me. I fucking hate it when they do that to me. I should be allowed to know how I fucked up. How else am I supposed to improve? I mean, really.
Sylar feels another familiar shudder down his spine. Memory wiping? There were so many powers out there, so many wonderful things he could take. At the very least, she is giving him names to add to his list. He almost feels like he should be grateful to her for that.
The keyword is almost.
He skips to an earlier page. He supposes he should read in some sort of order, but he doesn’t really care. He is scanning it in a very scrutinizing fashion, trying to find any hints of humanity left in her. She said that after he read this, he might understand her better. He doesn’t want to believe that. It’s easier to demonize her. To think nothing but bad things about her. If there’s something redeemable to her…
Well, then things would start to get complicated again, and Sylar doesn’t like complicated. He doesn’t exactly have room for things like romance in his life. And he isn’t going to change any time soon. She had seen to that personally.
And yet despite the resentment and determination, he finds himself wanting to read everything in this precious little journal of hers. He convinces himself that it was just to prove her wrong. To rub it in her face that there was nothing redeemable about her. She is as damaged and doomed as he was, if not more so. And from what he’s read so far, all he can tell is that she’s a spoiled brat who throws temper tantrums when she doesn’t get her way.
The next entry, however, isn’t the sort of thing he was expecting at all.
The other day the head shrinker asked me if anyone had ever molested or otherwise abused me as a child. I fried him to a burnt little crisp for that. I thought Daddy would be proud. I had been defending his honor like that. Making sure that no one defiles his good name and standing.
Well, I guess I thought wrong because he threw me into solitary confinement for the next week after that incident.
It sucked. No food. And they sprayed me down so if I tried to use my powers at all, I’d only hurt myself. When I asked Daddy why he was doing this to me, he told me that it was for my own good. That I needed to learn self control. Self restraint. That I couldn’t do whatever I pleased. And when I asked why I couldn’t, he just shook his head and closed the door again. He left me in there for another two weeks. They wouldn’t even give me this to write in while I was stuck in there. It sucked.
Like, a lot.
Her father doesn’t sound like too honorable of a man, not from what Sylar can tell, anyway. It seems like Elle is often treated as a prisoner of this company just as much as he is, if not more so. He almost feels bad for her.
Almost.
Another page, another entry.
Okay, so maybe the shrink I fried had a point. I mean Daddy…he never hugs me. He never pats my head or calls me beautiful like Bennet does with his daughter. He’s always so cold. So mean to me. He never takes me out to buy me pretty clothes. He never talks to me unless it’s about my training or a mission he wants me to serve. I mean, I know he wants me to be the best agent I can be, and I appreciate that, I do,I really do, but sometimes.
Fuck, sometimes I just want him to be my dad and that’s it, you know? Is that so much to ask? I guess it is. Because he can’t do it. He can’t shut it off. He’s always Bob, one of the founding members of the Company, and never Bob, one of the biological contributors to Elle Bishop.
He wants me to be just like him.
He wants so much from me.
It’s just, too much pressure, you know?
Sylar does know. He can’t help but think briefly of his mother. She always has such high, unrealistic expectations for him. Strokes his hair and tells him how special he could be. How he could be so much more than just the son of a watchmaker. He can’t help but smirk a little to himself as he wonders just what she would think of him now, if she knew what she was now.
Because she’s right. He is special. A special person with a special calling in life, but one he doubts she would approve of.
So disapproving parents, well, he supposes that’s one thing he has in common with Elle. But he’s pretty sure that’s where the similarities end. And where they should end, for that matter.
He opens up to another page and drifts off as he reads.
I never expected to fall for an assignment….
~*~*~*~*~*
Sylar’s eyes fly open the next morning his brain still filled with his dreams from the night before. She had come to him, tears in her eyes. She had laid her head in his lap, begging for forgiveness, telling him about how she had never planned on any of this happening. But he had been ruthless in the dream, taking her head and snapping it with a satisfying twist before she could fill his head with more lies. But then, he had panicked, and he had tried to put her back together again, but no matter how he tried, all he was left with was her severed head.
He’s not sure exactly what the symbolism of such a dream is, but on the other hand, he’s pretty sure he doesn’t want to know either.
He vaguely remembers the last thing he read, and pulls her journal off of his chest. It had been something about falling for an assignment. His heart skips in spite of himself. Could she have meant him? But it isn’t possible. It had all been an act, a farce, a ploy to play him for a fool, hadn’t it? It’s so much easier to think she was playing him. Safer. And yet, he feels like he has to know. And right as he’s about to read, he hears the door click.
Those stupid doctors are back.
He sighs in annoyance and places the book back behind his pillow once more. He can’t help but feel a tang of disappointment as they drag him out for more testing. What if she has written about him? He’s morbidly curious about what she might have to say on the events that had transpired between them.
But then a doctor injects him with something and his vision begins to blur. The sounds around him become like white noise. He can hear them, but he can’t make out what they’re trying to say. Probably nothing important.
His last thoughts are the memory of her at his door, smiling brightly and asking if he liked pie.
He did. Peach is his favorite.
It’s store bought. He realizes that now.
Just how much else of her is fake?
~*~*~*~*~*~
He wakes up groggy and sore. He doesn’t know what they did to him this time. He’s pretty sure he doesn’t want to know. His head is shaved. That’s new. And not really the good sort of new, as it means they were probably trying to get into his head, and frankly, he prefers when he’s the one invading heads, not vice versa.
But they weren’t him. They didn’t have his talent for figuring out just how things worked. What made people tick, so even opening his head probably didn’t help them discover much about him.
He couldn’t help but smirk a little smugly at that thought. Good.
After a few moments pass, he remembers what he had meant to read earlier. He picks her book up from beneath his pillow and begins skimming through it. His eyebrows furrow as he becomes more and more frustrated.
That entry. That one he had been so certain was about him, and about her feelings for him, it is gone. It is almost like it vanished. For the life of him, he can’t find it now, and it is kind of pissing him off. What is pissing him off even more is the fact that he cares, one way or another. Because he shouldn’t. Not anymore.
But he does.
He cares and that pisses him off. He’s Sylar, not stupid lovesick Gabriel.
Elle’s a fake, he reminds himself. Not even her pie had been real. And he doesn’t need to have written proof that all her feelings for him had been false too. The assignment she fell for was probably someone else. He convinces himself of that, almost, and decides to stop looking for the entry for now.
So he settles on another one to read.
I fucked Adam for the last time tonight. I know, I know, I’ve said that a lot in the past, but I mean it this time. He’s just such a jerk. I mean, he’s clearly just using me because he has nothing better to do. Not to mention, I think he expects me to help bust him out. Uh. No. Daddy would kill me and he’s not that good of a fuck, you know? I mean, some of the agents I’ve fooled around with have been better, though they can’t heal up like Adam, which can be bothersome. Because then Daddy sees the burn marks, and somehow he always knows which ones are caused that way, and then I get in trouble. Apparently boys are distracting me from my training, or something like that.
Daddy can be a real stick in the mud sometimes. Or you know, all the time. One of the two.
Sylar chuckles to himself a little. She either really loves her father, or hates his guts. It’s hard to tell from the way she writes about him. Perhaps it was a bit of both. Probably. That’s how he is with his mother. He loves her, perhaps loves her more than he’s ever loved anyone, but on the opposite end of the spectrum he also hates her, and sometimes hates her more than anyone else in the world. So he can understand how thin and confusing that line can be, sometimes.
Anyways, I guess I’m getting a little off track, which I sort of do a lot, but who the hell cares? It’s not like anybody else is ever going to read this thing.
Once again, Sylar can’t help but laugh a little.
So the point is, this little fling with Adam? It’s finished. Done with. Over and out. Too much work and he’s not worth the hassle. He wines and wines and tries to pit me against Daddy and the Company and just bleh. He tried to threaten to expose our affair to Daddy, so then I shocked him in the balls and went to destroy all the video footage, just in case. I refuse to be anyone’s victim. Fuck that. That sort of thing is best saved for fairytales where princes on white horses really exist. Here in the real world, however, it’s everyone for themselves. And nothing’s taking me down.
And certainly not some crotchety three hundred year old man.
He can’t help but smirk a little at those sentiments. She has good survival instincts, he has to give her that much. But beyond that, he can’t help but feel relief that this Adam person had been nothing to her but something physical to be involved with. It actually relieves him to a point that he isn’t entirely comfortable with, in all honesty. So Adam wasn’t the assignment she fell for then. Someone else must fit the bill because he’s still rather convinced it can’t be him. If she had fallen for him then why would she have betrayed him like she did?
But then again, when she gave him this journal she seemed to have really regretted her actions. She seemed sincere, but he feels stupid to even think of trusting her again. What was that saying again? Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me. What if this was some way to trick him? Some way to lure him back here once he leaves? A way to keep him tied to the Company?
His paranoia tempts him to just stop reading, but he doesn’t want to do that either. He’s too curious. He wants to know what other stories she has to tell. What makes her tick. What’s made her so screwed up in the first place.
So with that in mind, he flips over to a new page now.
Another psych visit, another question about what my childhood was like. Is it really so weird that I don’t remember it like….at all really? They always ask about my mother, and I don’t know what to say. The truth? She died in a fire. A fire that I caused because my powers malfunctioned and burnt the house down, killing both her and grandpa. Daddy had to pick me up and suddenly become a parent after years of only being minimally involved in my life. I was six. He didn’t even seem to care that my mother was dead. He was much more interested in the fact that I had manifested a power. That night he showed me what he could do, turning things into gold. He explained to me that people like us, people with powers have a responsibility.
I remember thinking the gold was so pretty. He was like King Midas. I wanted to be turned to gold like the daughter in the story. That way I could never kill any more mothers. But no such luck. That would probably have to involve Daddy touching me more. Daddy never seems to touch me unless he has to.
Once again, as Elle talks about her father, Sylar can’t help but think of his mother. Virginia is always so touchy with him; it was kind of annoying, actually. He thinks it might be a little refreshing to have a parent who didn’t like touching him so much. He can’t even really imagine what that would be like. His father had never been as touchy, that was true, but his father’s been dead for a few years now. Gabriel has taken his place as the only man in his mother’s life. But that place was taxing at times, that much was certain.
We lived in Ohio at the time. I went into work occasionally with him sometimes, but I still lived in a house then. The testing wasn’t so intense. But then I got scared one night, and lost control of my powers. I knocked out all the electricity in three counties. People in hospitals died because of it. People were hurt because of it. It caused all sorts of disasters.
It seemed like I couldn’t do anything right.
He took me into the Company for good after that. Said that I had to learn control or more people would get hurt, and I didn’t want that, did I?
The fucked up thing is I sort of did. I wonder what that says about me.
It is a strange sentiment to relate to, and yet Sylar can understand where she was coming from. There was something invigorating about causing pain. The power, the control that came with being the inflicter. There wasn’t another feeling like that in the world.
I guess that’s why they call me a sociopath at worst, and a sadist at best.
The doctor’s have been calling him a psychopath. A killer with no remorse (they were wrong, he feels remorse sometimes, he just keeps it to himself.) He supposes that’s another thing they have in common. Being judged for their natures, just because they don’t live the traditional sort of lives.
The more he reads, the more he discovers he has in common with Elle. Sylar isn’t sure how he feels about that revelation. It’s comforting and scary all at once, if that’s at all possible. He doesn’t want to relate to her. To feel compassion for her. There is safety in demonizing her.
So he supposes she must be getting what she wanted, in a way.
He flips to another page, as reading about her childhood was making him far too thoughtful and almost…kind.
I killed on the job again today.
Sylar smirks a little. Now this was more like it. Juicer. More interesting. Better than her woes about how Daddy didn’t love her enough. Did anyone’s father truly love them enough? He doubts it. Parents are generally disappointments, his own definitely included in that. In fact, his parents are probably the best example of that fact. Poor, ordinary people who were trying to drag their child down into a mundane existence. He hasn’t seen his mother since he left Queens, only leaving her the occasional phone call so she doesn’t think he’s dead, but he doesn’t miss her. Not quite anymore. It’s a little different now. More so, he misses what she had represented to him.
But now Sylar is getting sidetracked again, and pushes away thoughts of his mother in order to focus on the rest of Elle’s entry.
In my defense the guy was super creepy and not giving me any answers. I guess the special we were looking for was his sister or some shit like that. Like I care. But he was getting all handsy over me, trying to threaten me into submission. And then he slammed me against the wall and jammed his hand down my pants, and what was I supposed to do? Just stand there and let myself get raped by that creep?
Apparently.
Sylar doesn’t notice his fingers digging into his legs until he feels the sharp pain of the skin being broken. The idea of some slimy guy putting his hands all over her, defiling her, degrading her, it is enough to make him feel sick.
Not that he cares.
Because he doesn’t.
He is simply continuing to read because he sure as hell doesn’t have anything better to do around this place.
Maybe if he tells himself that enough, he’ll start believing it.
Still, he can’t help but feel a little proud of her. She didn’t play the victim. She stood up for herself. She was strong, made of tough stuff, he has to admit. He has to give her that much credit at the very least.
Daddy said if I didn’t throw myself at so many men, people wouldn’t get the wrong ideas about my virtues, and I was to blame for putting myself in such a position to begin. Whatever. It’s not like I was running around with a giant stamp on my head that said, “RAPE ME”
Wasn’t there a song with that title?
There is. Not that Sylar is a big fan of music like Nirvana. Well, he appreciates it more now.
But Gabriel has always been a fan of classical musical and stuff like the big bands from the forties.
But he isn’t Gabriel anymore, now is he?
In any case, the guy was totally slimy and trying to force me and shit, so I blew him to smithereens. Fried him up good. I thought Daddy would be proud. His little girl defended herself.
But it wasn’t enough.
Nothing I ever do is fucking enough for that man.
Again, despite himself, Sylar can understand where she’s coming from. Because his mother was the same way. She had always pushed him. Telling him he could be more, that being a watchmaker wasn’t enough.
He had to be special.
He wonders if any parent is satisfied with what their children become. He has yet to encounter one who shows that kind of unconditional love. Except maybe the Cheerleader’s father. The man who brought him in here in the first place.
But apparently, a good agent is more important than my…whatever. Safety. Daddy said he was disappointed that I let something like that bother me. That he had raised me to be better than that. Normal girls would freak out in such a situation, but not his daughter.
How strange, considering he usually gets angry about all the men I allow to fuck me. The one time I didn’t want to let it happen, and he acts like it’s the end of the fucking world.
I swear, no matter what I do, I can’t win.
Maybe I’ll go bug Noah. He’s always nicer to me than Daddy ever is. I think its cause my blonde hair reminds him of Claire. Whatever.
The entry ends there. And there is the buzzer, a sign that someone was about to come in with his dinner. The food here tastes like shit, but it is better than nothing.
It does seem strange to him that they seem so determined to keep him alive and in good health, despite everything he’s done. All the people he’s killed in the past. He wonders if maybe they have plans for him. But he hides away the journal and as he replaces the pillow, he notices he’s able to move it a little without touching it.
Which meant Elle really did lower his medicine.
Now all he has to do is wait until the medicine completely wears off so he can make his great escape. He’s spent too much time in this his hell hole already. And once he’s out, he’ll have other things to do. He’ll forget about her journal.
It was distracting him from his goals, and that simply is not okay.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Daddy put me on a field assignment with Noah. I’m pretty excited, I gotta admit. I’ve only had a few after that disaster with trying to spy on Claire (I still don’t see what’s so special about her). We’re going to go watch some young watchmaker. Apparently he can take powers from people or some shit like that.
Sylar finds himself sitting more rigid, more alert. He had opened her journal out of boredom, and finally found the part he had been looking for.
The part about him. About her thoughts about being assigned to him. He hadn’t even realized before how curious he was to hear her side of the story. But as of right now, he really wants to read it.
I guess I have to seduce him or something, make him trust me. Shouldn’t be too hard. I seduce people all the time around the Company. Though I have to say this is the first time Daddy has asked me to seduce someone for him. It’s kind of funny, considering how he usually bitches at me. But maybe he figures he might as well play to my strengths. Besides, if this guy is really as dangerous as Daddy and Noah claim him to be, I can take care of myself.
Sylar’s stomach growls and he knows that someone will be coming with his food soon, but he doesn’t want to stop reading, not now. Not when he is getting so close. To what? Truth? Resolution? Confirmation? He’s not sure why, but he feels like its imperative he keeps reading. There is no more to the entry, so he moves onto the next page to see if she’s written anything else. She has.
So, that wasn’t what I was expecting at all. I’m not sure what I was expecting. Maybe some sort of power hungry megalomaniac or something.
Sylar can’t help but smirk a little. People might not have called him one then, but they certainly call him that now. And worse.
The last thing I was expecting was some poor sap hanging himself from the noose. The way Daddy and Noah described him….he seemed like some kind of monster or something. Someone who I shouldn’t trust no matter what. I was expecting him to be skeevy, and scary, but he was none of those things.
He was…he was so gentle. I mean, it was a little pathetic, the way he clung to me at first. I mean, really, crying doesn’t even look good on women, and it looks worse on men.
He rolls his eyes at this. He’s pretty sure crying and suicide attempts probably go pretty hand in hand, but he continues reading. Because her words…well they aren’t what he was expecting to read. Not that he really knows what to expect anymore, but still. The point remains.
He called me an angel.
If only he had known better. But he still remembers how beautiful she had looked in that moment, golden hair framing her face like a halo. She showed up right as the rope broke (he only realized later that her power had been the reason the rope broke in the first place), what was he supposed to think?
No one’s ever called me something so nice before. Not ever. Daddy never had cute nicknames for me like “Angel” or “Princess.” The other people in the Company…well, they have names for me, but they don’t tend to be very nice ones. It was really strange to hear someone say something so nice to me.
I mean, he’s wrong, because by the end of all of this, he’s going to hate me.
She’s right about that, though there’s a nagging voice in Sylar’s head that suggests maybe he doesn’t hate her as much as he claims to. Because if he does, why is he so interested in her side of the story. It’s rather annoying how much harder it seems to be getting to ignore that voice and it’s stupid insight.
Bennet says I should win him over with pie. I felt like he meant something more with that, but I don’t know. I guess it goes well with that old fashioned girl next door look they have me sporting. I have no idea how to bake though. I mean, it’s not like I had a mother or anybody else to teach me about those sort of things growing up, you know? No guidance.
I guess I’ll have to find a bakery to go buy one from or something. I hope he likes peach, because if I’m going to get pie, I’m getting the kind I like the best.
So it’s her favorite too. He idly wonders why she never mentioned it to him. He supposes it doesn’t matter. He feels an empty disappointment at the confirmation that the pie had indeed been bought from a store. He’s not sure why he feels disappointed when he had already suspected it. But he does.
The clothes Noah’s picked out me look like they were made for someone who lived like forty years ago or something. So stuffy and old fashioned. But I guess it fits Gabriel’s style. I mean, he’s all pomade and sweater vests, and it should look dorky and ridiculous, but it kind of works for him, in a weird way.
He’s definitely one of the better looking assignments I’ve had to look after.
Sylar can’t help but preen a little at that.
So I suppose I can play Suzy Homemaker for him. See if he’ll open up some more. I can only hope he will. Man, it would be so much easier to just bag and tag him. But Daddy clearly trusts me, putting me on such an important, dangerous mission.
I’m not going to let him down. Not this time.
The entry ends. He’s about to turn the page when he hears the door open, admitting the agent who was bringing in his dinner. He stuffs the journal underneath his pillow and eats his food. The whole time, his stomach feels queasy and off, and as bad as the Company food can be sometimes, he’s pretty sure the feeling has nothing to do with that.
When he finally goes to bed for the night, he dreams of her. It was that fateful night again. But this time she comes clean, and shows her powers to him. He almost kills her, but ends up fucking her. Even though it’s a dream, she feels tight, warm, and wet around him.
He wakes up in the morning with the worst case of morning wood since he was about thirteen. He once again finds himself at a loss for what all this means, but all he really knows is that it makes him uncomfortable, by a long shot. He almost wishes he had just given the journal back to her when he had the chance.
But it’s too late. He’s already read so much of it now. And he’s never been one to not finish a book.
*~*~*~*~*~*
After the testing of the day he comes back to his cell, and he’s satisfied to find he can bring the book to him now. His powers were coming back more strongly. He’s delighted to discover this. Just a few more days until he gets out of this hell hole.
And then what? He goes after her? Runs after her like some fucking puppy?
He’s not sure.
He likes to think that he’d confront her. Tell her that her little sob story doesn’t matter (because it doesn’t, he swears it doesn’t) and then pop her top off. Steal her sparks and be done with it.
He pictures her terrified, whimpering expression and he practically gets off on it.
With that in mind, he opens up her journal once more. This time, he marked his place so he doesn’t have to look around for where he left off.
I never expected to fall for an assignment.
He lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding in. So he hadn’t dreamt that entry up. He sits up a little more now, alert and curious.
I mean, really, why did he have to be all sweet and earnest? And kind of crazy intense all at once. I felt horrible stealing that list from him.
I really…he doesn’t seem that bad of a person. Not like me. I mean, he’s trying to learn how to control himself, so he doesn’t kill again.
I wouldn’t know self control if it bit me in the ass, honestly. And how many people have I killed just because they pissed me off? Or I was bored? Or someone else pissed me off, like Daddy or Noah? I mean, at least Gabriel had a reason why he killed.
Sylar snorts a little at that. He can’t help but find amusement in the fact that she thinks having a reason made murder okay. Even he knew that killing people was never okay.
He just doesn’t particularly care anymore. It got easier with each kill to push away that old Catholic remorse of his.
But I mean…he seemed so vulnerable. So open. And when he said about just being able to be himself with me?
I don’t think anyone has ever been that nice to me.
Like ever.
I probably shouldn’t have encouraged him with that whole “special just the way you are” bit but I couldn’t help it.
I tried to talk Noah out of baiting him. I tried to convince him that we should go after someone else on the list. Spare Gabriel.
But orders are orders, according to Noah. And they want to see Gabriel kill. They want to see him kill.
He told me I either follow orders, or I don’t get to go home. No more being an Agent. No more Daddy. No more anything.
I almost did it. But I have no job skills, no formal education, and nowhere to go. What the fuck would I do? I suppose I could go confess the truth to Gabriel, but what if he just turns on me and kills me?
Sylar has no idea what he would have done if things had played themselves out that way. He can’t picture it. She’s probably right though. He probably would have killed her, all things considered.
Can you blame me for sacrificing his humanity to save my own life?
Yes.
So I suppose now I have to call up that Trevor guy and get ready to play the harlot tomorrow night. It’s the role I was born to play, after all.
Still. It was nice, even for a moment, to pretend what a normal relationship would feel like. I wish it could have lasted.
So did Sylar, though he will never admit it out loud.
The entry ends there, and he debates just going on and reading her take on her betrayal. But he can’t. Not right now. It’s too much. He’s taking in too much at once and it’s making him fucking soft and he kind of hates her for it.
Except that hatred is mixed with something else, which makes him all the more pissed, honestly.
So he puts the journal away and closes his eyes and tries his hardest to think of anything other than Elle.
He fails.
~*~*~*~*~
The next day comes and he can no longer put off his curiosity. He has to know what her reaction, her justifciation to betraying him was like. He’s not sure why it’s so vital to know this, all he knows is that it is. And that’s enough for him.
So he levitates the book out and turns to the page he left off on. His powers have started working more and more now, and he’s almost positive that if he wants to escape today, he’ll be able to. But for now, he reads.
I made a huge mistake.
His attention is instantly drawn to her words. He sits up a little straighter, concentrating on the words on the page.
I should have refused. I should have not brought Trevor over. I should have told Gabriel the truth before it was too late. Or…Something. I should have done something. Anything other than what I did.
Sylar’s chest tightens and he almost feels like he’s reliving the betrayal all over again. He wonders if this is what PTSD feels like.
But it’s too late.
Is it? He’s not sure anymore.
I ruined everything.
She did, didn’t she?
I just thought…I just thought….
She just thought what?
I just thought he would be stronger than that. That he was trying to fight it for himself, and not just me. He would resist and then the Company would have been wrong, and we could have been happy together.
I wanted so badly to be happy together.
I’ve never wanted anyone like this in my life, and after a few days, it’s like he’s taken over my every being.
The feeling is mutual, he thinks to himself. It’s like she’s in his veins. No matter what he tries, he can’t get rid of her. He can’t purge himself of her. It drives him kind of insane.
More than kind of, even.
Still, after blaming her for everything over and over again, it’s almost eye opening to think that some of it was his own fault. Even if she had tricked him, the choice had always been his, hadn’t it? He could have been the bigger person. He could have resisted killing Trevor.
But he didn’t.
Because he doesn’t want to be just Gabriel, and even when he talked to her about that, he never quite meant it. For the first time he realizes that he had been deceiving her just as much as she had been deceiving him. Maybe even more so.
The realization makes him feel sort of sick to his stomach.
It all went so bad so quickly, I wonder when it became the point of no return. Was it hopeless as soon as introduced Trevor? Was it always hopeless?
Why did I listen to Daddy?
Why do I always do as I’m told and not what I want.
But she’s not just following orders anymore. The fact that she gave him this journal and lowered his medications was proof that she was learning how to think for herself. She was becoming her own, independent person. Good for her.
Not that he cares.
Okay, so maybe he does.
I should have tried harder to stop him. I shouldn’t have run away like a coward. I should have refused. Maybe I could have helped him, somehow.
But maybe he would have killed me too.
He had certainly thought of it at the time, and many times since then. He has to wonder whether he’d actually be able to go through with it or not. He’s not sure anymore.
He’s not sure of much anymore.
Maybe someday I’ll try to find a way to make things up to him. Is it naive of me to think that’s even possible?
Perhaps it is, but it almost warms his heart anyways. He sets the book down. He’s sure there’s more, but he’s read enough already. He knows what he has to do now. He brings a hand up and pulls the door open with his telekinesis.
Good, his powers are at full strength again. Now all he has to do is find Elle and then…
Well, and then he’s not sure. He’ll figure that along the way. He makes his way down the halls of the Company, smirking to himself as agents try to stop him. He holds his hand out, throwing them against the wall, one by one. He’s sure that some of them have powers, but that’ll have to wait.
His mind is focused on Elle, and until he finds her again, everything else simply doesn’t matter as much anymore. Powers, revenge, all the rest of that can wait. It’s unsettling to want to find her so badly. He knows powers should come first, they always did before. And he’s found out about such good ones through her journal: memory repression, turning things into gold, another person who could heal like the gifted little cheerleader, so many delicious little powers. But all he could think of her were pretty little blue sparks.
~*~*~*~*~*~
It takes him weeks to find her. He’s usually good at finding people, but she must know how to hide, because she wasn’t as easy as his previous victims.
Okay, so she wasn’t a victim yet. And he hasn’t quite decided whether he wants to kill her yet or not, but that’s all besides the point, really. Small details that he could figure out later.
He wasn’t going to worry about it for now.
Well, as much as he could allow himself not to worry about it, anyways.
He finds her working in a small diner in California. She’s not a good waitress. She trips, and breaks glasses, and curses out customers. He lingers in the dark, sipping coffee and watching her like a hunter would watch his prey. She’s kind of oddly fascinating.
She doesn’t notice him. It’s all for the best, really, that she doesn’t.
He follows her outside of the diner and into an alley way, where she’s making her way to her car. She almost sees him a few times, but he steps into the shadows whenever she looks behind her.
Finally, she calls out, “You can come out now, I know you’re there.”
He chuckled softly to himself, stepping outside of the alleyway now. “You’re more perceptive than I gave you credit for.”
Elle rolls her eyes a little at that. “You think I didn’t notice you sitting there in the back, watching me while you sat there during my whole shift. You could have at least ordered more than coffee if you were going to do that.”
“Yeah, maybe a polite man would have, but I’m not exactly polite.”
Elle laughs a little too mirthlessly, like she’s trying to cover up something. Unease, maybe? “You’re not exactly a man, either.”
A frown sets across his features and he takes a threatening step closer to her. He reaches out into his pocket, thrusting her journal out at her. “Why did you give this to me,” He demands. Because he didn’t come this far not to get answers from her, damnit.
“Why do you think I gave it to you, Gabriel?” She turns the question back to him, her eyes twinkling with mischief.
He takes a step closer to her now, grabbing her wrists tightly. He growls as he pulls her in closer to him now. “My name is Sylar.”
“And you’re avoiding the question,” She smirks, challenging him. If she’s at all nervous by how close he’s pulled her in, she’s doing a fantastic job at not showing it. She seems calm, composed, sure of herself. So different from when he last saw her, when she gave him the journal.
Which makes him question, which one is the act?
“Why do you think I gave it to you, Gabriel?” Elle asks carefully again.
“Because you felt sorry for yourself,” He spits in anger, tightening his grip on her wrists. He has to cling onto that anger, because if he lets it go, too much else will be at risk. “You want me to forgive you so you don’t feel guilty anymore. So you can absolve yourself of your sins.”
Elle rolls her eyes at that. “Wrong,” she mutters, letting out a large enough electrical discharge that he has to let go of her. Her heels click against the cement as she takes a step closer to him, grabbing his chin. She forces his eyes to look into her own. “I did it so you would understand. You were demonizing me, and you needed to see the truth. Open your eyes and stop acting like a victim. It’s easy enough to blame others for your actions. I know for a while, I blamed Daddy, I blamed Noah, the Company, anyone but myself over what happened to you. But ultimately, everything was choice, don’t you see that?”
And he does. He thinks briefly of the moment when he realized the lack of control he had had.
The blame that could only be placed on him. But even though he’s realized that on a personal level doesn’t mean he’s accepted it. And it certainly doesn’t mean that he wants to admit it to her, of all people. He flicks his wrist, pushing her away and into the wall. A small smirk spreads across his lips as she cries out in pain. Good. She deserves to be hurt. “I’m glad you had your little epiphany, I am,” He drawls, taking another step closer to her. “But I don’t see what that has to do with me.”
“You made a choice, Gabriel, you chose to kill Trevor. I fucked up, but I didn’t make you a killer. You did,” She hisses, sparks flying in disarray. “I’m not telling you that you need to forgive me, or forgive yourself or any of that bullshit, but own up to it. Be your own person.”
“Like you are?” He asks sarcastically. He should have just killed her right away. He doesn’t like that he’s letting her bait him, but he’s letting her do it anyways.
“Yes. I escaped the Company, and I left you that journal because I knew you would too. You’re stronger than them and anything else in this world. I wasn’t lying before. You are special, just the way you, whatever you are. “
“Shut up,” He growls, closing his hand to choke her airway. He doesn’t want to listen to her, to let her poison his mind again, but at the same time, he does. It’s a conflicting feeling. He never did like confliction. He likes clarity.
“Kill me,” She dares him, letting out a small laugh erupt between her choking coughs. Her blue eyes showed no fear. She’s supposed to be afraid of him. But she isn’t. “If you’re going to kill me, go ahead and do it already, but don’t you think it would be more fun if you kept me alive. I could help you.”
He loosens the grip a little. He’d be lying if he said he isn’t intrigued by her words. “Help me? How can you help me, other than giving me that pretty little spark of yours?” Because he wants it. Electricity, what a delicious power.
But he wants her even more, and that scares him. It’s all the more reason to kill her.
“Because, you know those powers I wrote about?”
“Memory wiping, immortality, turning things into gold, I do remember them quite vividly. I plan on taking each one after this.”
“I can lead you to them, and lots more. I’ve learned of a lot of different, special abilities while I’ve worked in the Company” She offers with a dangerous smile. “Let me be the Bonnie to your Clyde.”
“Even your father’s power?” He asks with a raised brow.
“Even that one. Consider it my penance.”
And people thought he was deranged. She’s offering up her father like it’s nothing to her. Then again, from what he read, her father kind of sounded like an asshole, so it sort of made sense.
He releases her, causing her to fall to the ground. “Fine, you can come up with me. But the moment you get on my nerves too much, I’m killing you. You understand that, don’t you?”
Elle giggles as she rises to her feet. She wraps her arms around him tightly before tilting her head up to press a kiss against his lips. “You won’t regret this.”
He says nothing in response because he’s pretty sure he already does.
But what can you do?