black_hat

Works in progress meme from sinemoras09
Some things just lying around...

1) Claire and Sylar meet again after years and years...

And after awhile, in about five years, Claire would move. Eventually, people would notice she was pretty well-preserved and stayed that way. Her little girl’s name would have a whole, other meaning. It was as if giving a glimpse into the future. She’d look at Claire in a way so startlingly similar to her predecessor that it would be as if her former best friend forever had been brought back to life, to remind her. A real, living, dying sixteen year old against a sad facsimile.

Oh well, she thought, closing the car door and looking up at the house. The nursery light was still on, glowing dimly, in the five o’clock glaze. It wasn’t so bad yet. A part of her wished, perhaps, that the small moments at night with Jackie would last forever. When things were small, gentle, and loved you no matter what.

She stepped inside her home, and felt safer instantly. It was quiet and peaceful and hers. The lights were on.

Claire frowned and went to the nursery on instinct.

“Hello, Claire. We’ve been waiting for you.”

The world seemed to tumble out from under her feet. In his arms was her child, her child, her baby. Jackie was pulling at the buttons of his dark jacket, and Sylar smiled around at the name on the wall, written in bright blue.

Should be in red, he was thinking. Surely. As surely as she should have—as a good mother—run, run, run and grabbed her child. She, instead, stood in the doorway as still as a ghost.

2) Mohinder and Sylar...actually Mylar. Sylar's dad, as opposed to Hollows, is still alive and has apparently manifested a certain ability.

“You’re not telling me something.” As simple as that.

Mohinder froze, seeming unable to respond for a moment. “You of all people are accusing me of being a liar?”

“Not lying. Witholding. Either way, I will be going after this special individual. I’m just curious.”

He winced, and looked at his feet.

“This is…a sensitive matter. For both of us. I didn’t want to bring it up immediately…”

Oh, now Sylar truly was curious.

“Are you saying that you were thinking about my feelings? That’s too rich.”

“About your ego, Sylar. I understood what this would mean to you. I know what your ability means to you, as horrible as it is. I was afraid…”

“You’ve already ruined my night. Get on with it.”

“Of pushing you further over the edge, farther away from any ghost of humanity you have left. I wouldn’t wish to do that to you.”

They stared at one another for a long while.

“I’m sure you do,” Sylar said, breaking the silence with a smile. Mohinder ruined the moment by looking pitiful and sad.

“In a way…in a way, it is my fault. When I first heard of these atrocities, I took matters into my own hands, and went to find the one person that I had reason to suspect could possibly manifest that particular ability. Later in life, of course, but that’s no reason to…”

Then it clicked. Most things did with him, but that didn’t always mean the revelation was pleasant or wanted.

“You look nothing alike,” Mohinder finished, improving rather cruelly at the sight of Sylar’s expression.

And he…he was angry that Mohinder would think he’d care about such a pathetic, little man, a blight, a void. A complete coward. And the humiliation…made him tempted to killing the man in front of him, and though their relationship was complicated, Sylar had…claimed it for what it was. Something exclusive, something belonging to only him, and the key to do that very thing was being better, more powerful, and something a man like Mohinder would worship, fear, detest.

But his father was a complete embarrassment. No wonder…no wonder Mohinder had come here tonight, unafraid. Who would be?

3) Sylaire, Zombie

In that key’s place, another key turned a lock, and he was starting to feel the familiar anticipation before murder. When that happened, it didn’t stop. And the stupid man was still in his face, with his secret.

There was only one way to make sure Mohinder wouldn’t relate this cosmic joke to anyone else.

“Sylar?”

“Maybe you were right. Maybe you shouldn’t have told me.” Hot and cold were running up and down his body. “More for your health than mine!”

“Claire, come here. Come see what you did.” She sidled closer, standing on her tiptoes from a distance and straining to peer into the casket without breathing in the closed, stale aura from the open lid. No way she could be pulled in, either, by fragile but strong arms into an eternal bell jar at this distance.

She felt the pull on her arms, and she was drug, gasping, to the place besides him, and holy shit, she almost fell in the hole…

“Holy shit,” she whispered, eyes widening.

…into the place where a girl with rosy skin and pliant limbs was resting.

Half of the girl was pliant and fresh and soft, anyway. The blood—her blood—was doing its work too well. As Claire watched the empty places get filled in, her heart dropped to her feet. His arm was around her, pinning her all buddy-buddy like to his side as if they were tourists looking over the Grand Canyon.

Or particularly proud parents. She was suddenly sick as she noticed the little trinkets lining the pillow.

“Always so articulate,” he muttered.

She pulled away from him, and shook her head. “This is wrong. This is so, so wrong.”

“You’re the one who suggested we save lives. Trust me, there’s not much difference from this one and the last besides time. Aren’t heroes supposed to be all about the equal opportunities?”

“I can’t watch,” she sputtered out, apologetic for reasons she could not understand, and retreated to the gate. She didn’t go farther than that. Instead, she crossed her arms and watched him.

She noticed that Gabriel was still as a statue, standing composed over the scene but at the same time, insatiably greedy. On the edge of control, of thought. Her powers had been the key but he had been the gateway and he knew it. It was also terribly ironic. He had undoubtedly killed a lot of people as if they were flies and it would be him who had the thought to bring people back.

Like they were nothing.

Time passed. She shifted her weight from foot to foot. His composure was starting to thread away.

“Well?” she called timidly.

He stiffened, and then, just….fucking flipped out. There was no other description she could think off as he destroyed all the vases, old and new, with an angry swipe of his hands. He glared at the body with pure hate, and he raised his hands, to strike at something. The coffin, the remains, whatever the hell was within reach.

“Hey, wait!” She ran towards him. “Dammit, hold on.”

“Hold on?!” he raged. “To what, she’s fucking dust, are you going to try and tell me I’m…”

He paused, a moment, ashen-faced, with his lips in a perfect snarl. She suspected he was mad because he found yet another thing he could not have.

“This is a joke. Everything’s working fine, I can hear it, I can see it. Look!”

She did indeed look, and the girl, Britney Beloved Daughter, seemed to be alive. Only she wasn’t. The body remained full in slumber. Claire wasn’t an expert in death like Gabriel was, so if she wasn’t in a cemetery, she would have believed it entirely.

“I guess you can’t bring people back after a certain time,” she told him, carefully.

“You’d accept that? You, of all people?”

She stared at him, unable to really say a word.

“Okay, Mrs. Nine-Lives, have it your way. But you know I’m right. Let’s go back. We can try again another time.”

He started away.

“Um, are you forgetting…”

He rolled his eyes. “Stand back. Wouldn’t want to get your hands dirty.”

Question: why did a murderer, of all people, want to do this? She would have asked, if he hadn’t looked so damn tired. Tonight, he had kind of reconfirmed that he was endlessly cruel, endlessly evil. Yes, evil. Because she saw in his hands that he had one of the girl’s trinkets. It was an expensive piece, maybe a diamond necklace for a birthday that would never be. It shivered down between his fingers as he covered the casket with a sweep of his hands.

What the hell had gotten into him? More than usual, at least.

“Listen, I know you’re in a terrible mood and all, but grave-robbing…I thought you’d be above that.”

“I am. I just thought maybe she’d like to come and take it back.”

Okay, then. Makes perfect sense, really.

“What is wrong with you?” she asked, bold because she, too, was tired. “All of the sudden, when I brought that lady back, you’ve been…uh, strung out.”

“You’ve defeated the entire purpose. I take with sacrifice, and within your little sweet sixteen body, you have the ability to undo that. But I can adapt.”

“I can tell,” she muttered. Oh, yeah. The hearing thing.

“I thought you’d like to make up for some things, is all.”

“Like what?” Hear it comes, the lies upon lies upon lies.

“Like letting me mistake that girl for you. So difficult, to tell you blondes apart. But I can tell you that you girls all look the same on the inside.”

Claire had no idea what he was talking about, but the specifics didn’t matter. She got the picture.

“You know what?” she began. He waited, raising an eyebrow. “This is a new low. Even for you, and you don’t know it.”

“Perspective, Claire. Now, let’s get back. I’ve been hearing a lot of traffic around-.”

“Oh, don’t even try it,” she said and started to walk. He followed, and they were quiet for a time. She didn’t see a single car, either.

“You have to admit you’re a little disappointed,” he pointed out, when they caught sight of the house.

“Yeah, in some things.”

“And don’t try that,” he muttered, smiling and putting his hands in his coat pockets. “I’ll give it to charity.”

“Um…”

“The necklace. Isn’t that nice? I’ll donate it to a charity of your choice. For little sick children and abandoned puppies in trash bags. Better?” His eyes were…feverish, glittery. Maybe she had put too much pressure on him with that saving people thing. But he shouldn’t have cared in the first place.

“Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Such concern, St. Claire. I’m not worthy,” he sneered, and opened the door.

“Soon, my power will be yours, though, right.”

“Yes, for better use.” Perfect honesty. “Neither of us can deny that. I can make the power strong enough to pull anyone back.”

Anyone, huh.

4) NathanSylar/Heidi. Heidi is pregnant. Whoops. And Sylar's had this little program going that spots such children, and Heidi's unknowingly taken it by going to the doctor. Whoops, and whoops.

“We got lucky with the boys. I was spared from making that decision,” he continued.

“You’d give your own children up? Our children?!”

She was growing hysterical, and for the life of him, he could think of nothing that would calm her down.

“If necessary. The climate is hostile towards special people. They’d be much better off in the program than out living among the populace.” Living being the operative word, he thought, amused at his secrets. Yes, it had been fortunate those two children were unremarkable, right down to their brown eyes, as Suresh would have said. “People can be animals. You know that.”

Heidi’s face fell, losing its luster. She looked aged beyond her years. He marveled at the effect but at the same time, was unsettled, bothered.

“What were the results?” she whispered, closing her eyes.

“Normal,” he lied, flawlessly. “Perfectly…normal.” For some reason, he had a moment of wanting to tell her the truth, wanting her to know how she had trapped him so perfectly to potentially do harm to his own flesh and blood. There was a sick-bad feeling running up and down his spine, and he couldn’t even fool himself for long that there would be no ‘potentially’.

He would have to fix the problem.

“You’re sure?”

“Positive.” He laughed, ushering her in the room, his hand in the small of her back. “Nothing for you to lose any sleep over.”

“That’s not fair,” she said, turning on him the minute he closed the door. Didn’t waste time, getting her claws back into him. He’d admire her instincts if he wasn’t so on the edge of his anger.

“Oh, really? That’s an interesting perspective on this situation.”

“You should have told me about those tests. I didn’t know about them, at all. I could have…” she stopped herself, and sat down.

“You didn’t know because you weren’t supposed to know,” he ground out, trying to maintain this facade. It was hitching along now, falling to pieces, and it was driving him into a corner. He went to the mantel and looked aggrieved, absolutely Nathan. The clock was off, he noticed, and he opened the ornate glass down to wind the hour hand with his finger, a motion that always calmed him. “That means the system works. I know you think you’re special because you’re the president’s wife, but I’m all about…equal-opportunity.

“Stop playing with that clock!” she screamed out, and he turned to stare at her. She was gathering her pretty dress into her fists. “You know you never cared about details like that before. It used to be that a clock never ran in the house, and now, everywhere I am, there’s a ticking sound and it makes me sick. Why did that change, Nathan? Why did you change?”

“When I realized the value of order,” he said, casually as he could. “I’m running the country, Heidi. What would it say about me if I were late to a summit meeting with the Secretary of State? ‘Oh, I’m sorry that I’m ten-fucking-minutes late, I just…”

He trailed off, feeling rather than knowing he was coming apart. He rubbed his temples, another Nathan-esque quality, to divide and conquer, to diffuse this assault with feigned weakness. He still had control of this.

“I…that was uncalled for, I’m sorry.”

“No, no,” she whispered, and he peered through his fingers in surprise. “That was…finally human.”

“Excuse me? I don’t follow…”

“You’re angry. I mean, finally. A sign of life,” she said, smiling, and to his dread, he understood.

“You’re telling me you like my flaws better than my virtues,” Nathan joked, but underneath Sylar was seething. He had perfected this man from the ground up, gave her perfection, and she preferred the exact opposite which was far from ideal. How illogical.

“You don’t have to put on a show for me, Nathan. That’s how it seemed to me, when you’re so perfect and stiff and distant and you hate it, I can tell. So thank you. The world didn’t end, either.”