a mother's love
Jan. 24th, 2010 12:47 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
black_hatTitle: a mother's love
author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
bellonablack
Pairing: Sylar/Elle
Rating: R (for disturbing images)
Prompt: Instead of Elle being jealous of Sylar's relationship with Noah, Sylar is the one who is jealous.
Warning: unbetaed.
A bond between a mother and child was sacred.
Never forget it. It was a beautiful image, the Madonna and the baby. He had been raised on that image, feasted upon it as he took catechism after catechism. His mother would brush his hair in the small mirror by the door and mourn the fact that he wasn’t a girl. Her hands would always be wrinkled by the sewing she had done on the side to support them, and he’d shudder as he watched their motion in the mirror.
They looked like they were covered in old snakeskin. She was a mummy as well. Not that he minded mummies or snakeskin, but he thought of germs. Girls were cleaner than boys.
“And their minds aren’t filled with such filth and dirt and evil thoughts,” his mother said, staring through him, through his reflection. In these moments, he’d grow every still. “Oh little boys can’t help it. But little boys are just made that way. Bless them.”
Perhaps a bond between a mother and daughter was sacred. Perhaps Mary was an anomaly in more ways than one. His father, now: he’d be his father.
His father was gone anyway, so he didn’t have much of a choice.
Sometimes he wished he was a girl, clean and pure, rather than his father (a good man) whose skin he wore while he was away.
And while his mother held his hand so tightly.
***
When Sylar had Elle, he didn’t need anyone else.
For a while there, his personality and self was starting to lose his purpose, his precious focus. He dressed as a man’s man, as something scary and bestial, in black. It was his new skin, and it was what he was. He played it well, and that was all he needed. Then there were all these people held in the mix.
His mother. He needed to change his skin again and learn about his father. He’d be that for now: company man, family man, someone his mother could love.
Then that fell through. Then all he had was Elle. Elle told him just to do what she said and he wouldn’t need to worry about the rest of them. So, he reinvented himself again, the mechanics of his mind and soul and heart readjusting to family man again, for Elle.
He’d see himself in her eyes, blue and clear. Innocent and devilish all that the same time.
It confused him, and he didn’t like it at first. There can’t be two ways of being. Either something is or it isn’t. Either you’re powerful or you’re weak. Either you’re strong and honest or weak and lying. He clung to something solid. Just show him how to work an item, an idea, and he could do it well.
The parts go where they are supposed to.
So, Elle confused him. She was too much. She wasn’t a part of him that he had seen in the others. Maya had been Gabriel. Claire Bennet was a Sylar in the making. He had killed them both, fought them both, and broke them both to fix them because they were parts of him that he needed to correct. Noah Bennet was there as his example, his pattern of living. He’d copy and paste his gray morality—as much as he could. Chandra had been the father/mother he could never have, and Mohinder had been his brother, the defective son (part) cast away for him.
Then there was Peter.
No more to be said on that. They were all a part of him, in their ways. All strings have a point of origin, a beginning and an end.
But Elle wasn’t a part of him. She was the separate other, the separate entity. He wanted to know and he hated himself for wanting to know. She scared him, with her whims. She thought about ideas that he would never think about, and he didn’t understand. She was supposed to be an angel (and one was not supposed to know everything about an angel. That was fair).
Yet she wasn’t. She was both. She was neither. He’d eye her forehead, hoping to get to the root of it someday…but he’d know it might not be that miraculous and mysterious when he cut her head open.
And she’d be dead, of course.
So, he had to wait and see himself in her eyes, and hope to hell that she never looked away. He hated needing her, but he understand that his self depended on it. He needed to make peace with this other part, as much as she was a bur in his brain, or else destroy it so no one else can touch her.
Luckily for him, she wasn’t inclined to look away.
They reached a balance for a time. Then he came.
***
The baby was still screaming.
In the crib. There was nothing wrong with that baby. He had looked several times, checked several times. Had been so close to looking inside his head to figure out why.
Why was that baby crying about when nothing was wrong?
Elle would push him from his place at the crib, where he had been staring down bewildered, and picked up the mewling baby.
“I was about to change him,” Gabriel protested. Naturally, that could be the only other option for why the baby was screaming. The baby was a manufacturer of shit and piss, a constant stream. He had started to wonder if it wasn’t on purpose. They never fed Noah that much.
However, eliminate the cause, and the baby would be quiet and coo peacefully. Elle was in charge of the changing of the diapers. But his earlier statement was not technically a falsehood. ‘About to’ was not the same thing as ‘doing’.
He had asked her once why she didn’t mind changing and bathing the baby. She had replied she was used to working with people who lost control of their bowels. She had often been the cause of it. Gabriel had hated that part of death, and made a point never to be there for it. Elle would laugh at him for being so squeamish.
“He doesn’t need to be changed, silly,” Elle said, bouncing the baby in her arms. After awhile, Noah’s cries started to wane. He stared, stupidly in his pajamas, watching her cradle the baby. She looked like the Madonna. Only she should have brown hair. But he preferred blonde, personally.
He sat down in the small chair and watched her, rocking the baby in her arms and smiling down at it.
“I need my burst of happiness, Noah. Give me my burst of happiness.”
She wiggled her fingers in front of the baby’s face and his little legs would really go, kicking and dancing.
“There we go. There’s my burst of happiness.”
The light from the child’s nightlight painted her in bright colors. It was very surrealist, and that seemed to fit her. She was that glass mosaic from the church. She smelt of milk too. Constantly.
Killer who could give life.
He sat back in his chair because he had no idea what to do. Her eyes weren’t on him. He had become a statue, and he waited, patently, until Elle’s eyes flickered up to meet his.
She smiled at him.
He smiled back.
***
There was another entity in the house now.
Elle was the second. Now Noah was the third. He wasn’t a part of Gabriel as Gabriel had known it. The baby would stare at him, and he wondered if one of his dead victims hadn’t come back with him. The way he’d stare.
As if he were going to eat him.
Some animals kill the old fathers. He had heard a saying. You can’t become a man without killing your father. (Gabriel never considered the philosophical meaning rather than the literal one)
Noah was not a part of Gabriel. Oh, the irony of the whole situation was that Gabriel had created him. That might be the problem. The Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost theory did not work. Hell, even the devil was part of God…but Elle was separate. Noah was separate. And he didn’t understand either of them.
He tried to control himself and sate himself on Elle’s touches at night. When he was inside of her, he savored everything, even though he wasn’t…well. He didn’t like giving of himself. It was okay as long as she loved him and only him but…he could hurt her and be hurt back. God had met a semi equal, someone below him who could hear and understand and be besides him. (She was his lightning)
…
The baby would cry.
She’d push him away and rush to the door, seemingly eager to be needed and take care of a chore. The image would crumble and in the tangled sheets, he’d be small. He’d lay there and be worse than dead.
Gabriel would breathe deeply and count numbers and sit in the living room (oh irony) and work on his clocks. The only things that made sense to him.
He had felt empathy for Elle. He….could reach across the divide to her. But Noah.
Noah.
If there was anything Gabriel understood, it was patterns. Like he had taken his father’s skin, Noah would take his.
Elle kissed Noah on the forehead, and his forehead would shimmer slightly as if he was being christened.
Which he was.
The new timepiece had replaced the antiques. It was a fact that had made Gabriel want to weep but it was still a fact. Noah was going to take his place.
But Elle, the mother, was the key. She was Gabriel’s key. The bond between mother and child was sacred. His mother had been different but…what Noah and Elle had was something he didn’t understand, he…
He’d stop this from happening.
***
Noah was going to take the skin of the father.
Not if he took the skin of mother.
When Elle was away for groceries, she said that they should spend some quality time together. Gabriel had agreed, taking the baby into his arms. Noah was always stiff and unyielding, but it seemed that Gabriel had become a constant fixture in his life. His dark eyes would look up at him.
His own eyes would look up back up at him. It was…unsettling.
“You two guys don’t throw a party while I’m going,” Elle warned. “Wait for me,” she added with a smile. Elle was acting differently now, dressing in nice outfits like a mother would. Hmm.
When Noah had walked for the first time, you’d think she was witnessing the creation of a universe. Over something so simple. He had studied her emotions, and studied the baby’s gleeful and proud smile, and…god, he hated not knowing things. It needled at him, and the smaller he got.
Elle closed the door and they were left with each other. Noah laid his head down on Gabriel’s chest, in a submissive and trusting motion. This puzzled him, and something—very far in his chest—twisted a little. He raised a hand to pet Noah’s head. He wanted to hold him tighter.
But instead, he put him down on the ground. Noah stood up, put a small, chubby hand on his knee questioningly, and said ‘Dada’.
Oh that had been the end of the universe and the birth of two others, for Elle. Dada. Noah stood there longer, leaning against his leg. Wanting to be picked up again. Gabriel wished this could be different. He didn’t want to do this, not really. He swallowed hard but this was the way of the world.
He couldn’t help it. To be a father, a whole different label with different subtypes and categories…
But he didn’t have a part he could grab onto. If he were being honest, this was how both his father’s had been towards him. Noah finally gave up and toddled over to play with his toys.
Gabriel waited a bit, waited as the young boy got immersed in his imaginary world. (a whole other world, imagine that. Well, he couldn’t)
“Noah,” he said in Elle’s voice. This power, he had hid from Elle. He had gone searching when that power was listed on her cell-phone. He had gotten the text before her (having the power to read the electronics now) and had deleted the message. That power had been a bit tempting for him to stay away from. He had become the mother.
Noah twisted his head around, and his face lit up. Gabriel noticed the difference of the reaction. Noah toddled up to him, and Gabriel picked him up because that’s what Elle would do. He had been mindful of the details. Right down to her scent.
Easy. He clung to the feed of information he was getting. She knew what to do know.
“Give me a burst of happiness,” she asked, holding Noah with comfortable ease (that was enviable) and wiggled her fingers.
Noah, much too big and old for the game, kicked his legs and giggled, ducking his head underneath her arm.
“Good boy. I’ve got some candy for you.”
She held out of her fingers, put on finger in Noah’s mouth, and shocked him.
Noah screamed. His mouth was red and bleeding and puffy but he still screamed.
“Oh I’m so sorry. Mommy’s so sorry,” Elle said and she held him. Held him until he calmed down. “Give Mommy a kiss.”
Noah did on her cheek. Elle kissed his lips.
And shocked him again. This went on an on, with Noah starting to sense a dangerous pattern with his mother. Well, this was the real Elle. Always playing games. It was how Gabriel had known her: thus, it was the most legitimate and researched interpretation.
Elle left the room. Gabriel came back in and saw Noah on the floor, crying. Now he had a reason to cry.
“What happened, buddy?” Gabriel asked and picked him up. Noah cried and cried. Gabriel healed him before Elle got back.
He did have to protect Noah from Elle after all. The boy didn’t know his mother very well, so it wasn’t his fault.
***
Elle’s love for Noah never faded.
Even when he winced from her and hid behind Gabriel’s legs. Her eyes would dim but she kept her smile.
“No more sparks,” Noah cried once at dinner when Elle went to ruffle his hair. She froze. Gabriel did too. After all, he hadn’t known about Elle’s behavior.
“What?” he asked, his eyes narrowed.
“I, I don’t know,” Elle said, confused. “Did you ever tell him?”
Gabriel gave her a look and kept on eating. The answer was obvious enough.
“Then how…how did he know?”
“You might be sparking when you don’t know it,” Gabriel offered the solution. Elle made an expression of hurt and alarm (he had these well labeled and put away in his mind) and held her hand to her throat.
“…I really don’t know it. I…you think I’m having blackouts? I used to. They said I did things then too.”
“You could have let me in on that little secret, Elle,” Gabriel said angrily and picked Noah up, carrying him away from his mother. He had a right to be angry. What mother did that to her son? Elle, that’s who. The real Elle.
He would have worked on that angle. He would have eaten up Elle’s sad pleading for forgiveness and Noah’s increased reliance upon him. As it should have been.
But one night, he caught her outside Noah’s room, looking at the sleeping boy in a way that she had never looked at Gabriel.
She looked at him with love.
A whole new world of love. A mother’s love.
What happened next was not his fault.
***
In fact, what happened next…well, nothing happened next.
Elle went away, spending more time apart from her cringing and frightened child. Now, Noah was hurting Elle. He’d make Noah better. So, he opened Noah’s head up on the table to find out about all about Noah.
Turns out, there was nothing miraculous about him.
Noah didn’t die. After all, he had all their most important traits within him. The parts lived in him. In the end, Noah wasn’t a part, but he wasn’t that special either. So he became a part. No one was killed, you see. It was just another change in nature. Instead of Noah taking Gabriel’s skin, Gabriel took Noah’s. One entity still took another's place. It balanced out.
Elle returned home to find a crying Noah in the floor and a clean kitchen table. The only thing on the table was a note from Gabriel saying he had decided to leave and that he couldn’t be around them anymore. He wrote that he had loved her. For what it was worth, he had loved her.
Noah continued to cry in his Sponge Bob Squarepants pajamas. Elle, looking beautiful and strong and so mysterious, knelt down and held out her arms to Noah. Noah toddled right up to her without hesitation. Of course, his father had scared him.
She picked him up, this time, and held him. She kissed him on the forehead and told him everything was going to be all right. She looked at him with a mother’s love. It was like seeing the sun for the first time.
She’d never check the ground underneath the garden (where other things grew), and after awhile, Noah began to believe he really was Noah as he grew up.
They were happy together, just the two of them.
A bond between a mother and her child was sacred after all.
author:
bellonablackPairing: Sylar/Elle
Rating: R (for disturbing images)
Prompt: Instead of Elle being jealous of Sylar's relationship with Noah, Sylar is the one who is jealous.
Warning: unbetaed.
A bond between a mother and child was sacred.
Never forget it. It was a beautiful image, the Madonna and the baby. He had been raised on that image, feasted upon it as he took catechism after catechism. His mother would brush his hair in the small mirror by the door and mourn the fact that he wasn’t a girl. Her hands would always be wrinkled by the sewing she had done on the side to support them, and he’d shudder as he watched their motion in the mirror.
They looked like they were covered in old snakeskin. She was a mummy as well. Not that he minded mummies or snakeskin, but he thought of germs. Girls were cleaner than boys.
“And their minds aren’t filled with such filth and dirt and evil thoughts,” his mother said, staring through him, through his reflection. In these moments, he’d grow every still. “Oh little boys can’t help it. But little boys are just made that way. Bless them.”
Perhaps a bond between a mother and daughter was sacred. Perhaps Mary was an anomaly in more ways than one. His father, now: he’d be his father.
His father was gone anyway, so he didn’t have much of a choice.
Sometimes he wished he was a girl, clean and pure, rather than his father (a good man) whose skin he wore while he was away.
And while his mother held his hand so tightly.
***
When Sylar had Elle, he didn’t need anyone else.
For a while there, his personality and self was starting to lose his purpose, his precious focus. He dressed as a man’s man, as something scary and bestial, in black. It was his new skin, and it was what he was. He played it well, and that was all he needed. Then there were all these people held in the mix.
His mother. He needed to change his skin again and learn about his father. He’d be that for now: company man, family man, someone his mother could love.
Then that fell through. Then all he had was Elle. Elle told him just to do what she said and he wouldn’t need to worry about the rest of them. So, he reinvented himself again, the mechanics of his mind and soul and heart readjusting to family man again, for Elle.
He’d see himself in her eyes, blue and clear. Innocent and devilish all that the same time.
It confused him, and he didn’t like it at first. There can’t be two ways of being. Either something is or it isn’t. Either you’re powerful or you’re weak. Either you’re strong and honest or weak and lying. He clung to something solid. Just show him how to work an item, an idea, and he could do it well.
The parts go where they are supposed to.
So, Elle confused him. She was too much. She wasn’t a part of him that he had seen in the others. Maya had been Gabriel. Claire Bennet was a Sylar in the making. He had killed them both, fought them both, and broke them both to fix them because they were parts of him that he needed to correct. Noah Bennet was there as his example, his pattern of living. He’d copy and paste his gray morality—as much as he could. Chandra had been the father/mother he could never have, and Mohinder had been his brother, the defective son (part) cast away for him.
Then there was Peter.
No more to be said on that. They were all a part of him, in their ways. All strings have a point of origin, a beginning and an end.
But Elle wasn’t a part of him. She was the separate other, the separate entity. He wanted to know and he hated himself for wanting to know. She scared him, with her whims. She thought about ideas that he would never think about, and he didn’t understand. She was supposed to be an angel (and one was not supposed to know everything about an angel. That was fair).
Yet she wasn’t. She was both. She was neither. He’d eye her forehead, hoping to get to the root of it someday…but he’d know it might not be that miraculous and mysterious when he cut her head open.
And she’d be dead, of course.
So, he had to wait and see himself in her eyes, and hope to hell that she never looked away. He hated needing her, but he understand that his self depended on it. He needed to make peace with this other part, as much as she was a bur in his brain, or else destroy it so no one else can touch her.
Luckily for him, she wasn’t inclined to look away.
They reached a balance for a time. Then he came.
***
The baby was still screaming.
In the crib. There was nothing wrong with that baby. He had looked several times, checked several times. Had been so close to looking inside his head to figure out why.
Why was that baby crying about when nothing was wrong?
Elle would push him from his place at the crib, where he had been staring down bewildered, and picked up the mewling baby.
“I was about to change him,” Gabriel protested. Naturally, that could be the only other option for why the baby was screaming. The baby was a manufacturer of shit and piss, a constant stream. He had started to wonder if it wasn’t on purpose. They never fed Noah that much.
However, eliminate the cause, and the baby would be quiet and coo peacefully. Elle was in charge of the changing of the diapers. But his earlier statement was not technically a falsehood. ‘About to’ was not the same thing as ‘doing’.
He had asked her once why she didn’t mind changing and bathing the baby. She had replied she was used to working with people who lost control of their bowels. She had often been the cause of it. Gabriel had hated that part of death, and made a point never to be there for it. Elle would laugh at him for being so squeamish.
“He doesn’t need to be changed, silly,” Elle said, bouncing the baby in her arms. After awhile, Noah’s cries started to wane. He stared, stupidly in his pajamas, watching her cradle the baby. She looked like the Madonna. Only she should have brown hair. But he preferred blonde, personally.
He sat down in the small chair and watched her, rocking the baby in her arms and smiling down at it.
“I need my burst of happiness, Noah. Give me my burst of happiness.”
She wiggled her fingers in front of the baby’s face and his little legs would really go, kicking and dancing.
“There we go. There’s my burst of happiness.”
The light from the child’s nightlight painted her in bright colors. It was very surrealist, and that seemed to fit her. She was that glass mosaic from the church. She smelt of milk too. Constantly.
Killer who could give life.
He sat back in his chair because he had no idea what to do. Her eyes weren’t on him. He had become a statue, and he waited, patently, until Elle’s eyes flickered up to meet his.
She smiled at him.
He smiled back.
***
There was another entity in the house now.
Elle was the second. Now Noah was the third. He wasn’t a part of Gabriel as Gabriel had known it. The baby would stare at him, and he wondered if one of his dead victims hadn’t come back with him. The way he’d stare.
As if he were going to eat him.
Some animals kill the old fathers. He had heard a saying. You can’t become a man without killing your father. (Gabriel never considered the philosophical meaning rather than the literal one)
Noah was not a part of Gabriel. Oh, the irony of the whole situation was that Gabriel had created him. That might be the problem. The Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost theory did not work. Hell, even the devil was part of God…but Elle was separate. Noah was separate. And he didn’t understand either of them.
He tried to control himself and sate himself on Elle’s touches at night. When he was inside of her, he savored everything, even though he wasn’t…well. He didn’t like giving of himself. It was okay as long as she loved him and only him but…he could hurt her and be hurt back. God had met a semi equal, someone below him who could hear and understand and be besides him. (She was his lightning)
…
The baby would cry.
She’d push him away and rush to the door, seemingly eager to be needed and take care of a chore. The image would crumble and in the tangled sheets, he’d be small. He’d lay there and be worse than dead.
Gabriel would breathe deeply and count numbers and sit in the living room (oh irony) and work on his clocks. The only things that made sense to him.
He had felt empathy for Elle. He….could reach across the divide to her. But Noah.
Noah.
If there was anything Gabriel understood, it was patterns. Like he had taken his father’s skin, Noah would take his.
Elle kissed Noah on the forehead, and his forehead would shimmer slightly as if he was being christened.
Which he was.
The new timepiece had replaced the antiques. It was a fact that had made Gabriel want to weep but it was still a fact. Noah was going to take his place.
But Elle, the mother, was the key. She was Gabriel’s key. The bond between mother and child was sacred. His mother had been different but…what Noah and Elle had was something he didn’t understand, he…
He’d stop this from happening.
***
Noah was going to take the skin of the father.
Not if he took the skin of mother.
When Elle was away for groceries, she said that they should spend some quality time together. Gabriel had agreed, taking the baby into his arms. Noah was always stiff and unyielding, but it seemed that Gabriel had become a constant fixture in his life. His dark eyes would look up at him.
His own eyes would look up back up at him. It was…unsettling.
“You two guys don’t throw a party while I’m going,” Elle warned. “Wait for me,” she added with a smile. Elle was acting differently now, dressing in nice outfits like a mother would. Hmm.
When Noah had walked for the first time, you’d think she was witnessing the creation of a universe. Over something so simple. He had studied her emotions, and studied the baby’s gleeful and proud smile, and…god, he hated not knowing things. It needled at him, and the smaller he got.
Elle closed the door and they were left with each other. Noah laid his head down on Gabriel’s chest, in a submissive and trusting motion. This puzzled him, and something—very far in his chest—twisted a little. He raised a hand to pet Noah’s head. He wanted to hold him tighter.
But instead, he put him down on the ground. Noah stood up, put a small, chubby hand on his knee questioningly, and said ‘Dada’.
Oh that had been the end of the universe and the birth of two others, for Elle. Dada. Noah stood there longer, leaning against his leg. Wanting to be picked up again. Gabriel wished this could be different. He didn’t want to do this, not really. He swallowed hard but this was the way of the world.
He couldn’t help it. To be a father, a whole different label with different subtypes and categories…
But he didn’t have a part he could grab onto. If he were being honest, this was how both his father’s had been towards him. Noah finally gave up and toddled over to play with his toys.
Gabriel waited a bit, waited as the young boy got immersed in his imaginary world. (a whole other world, imagine that. Well, he couldn’t)
“Noah,” he said in Elle’s voice. This power, he had hid from Elle. He had gone searching when that power was listed on her cell-phone. He had gotten the text before her (having the power to read the electronics now) and had deleted the message. That power had been a bit tempting for him to stay away from. He had become the mother.
Noah twisted his head around, and his face lit up. Gabriel noticed the difference of the reaction. Noah toddled up to him, and Gabriel picked him up because that’s what Elle would do. He had been mindful of the details. Right down to her scent.
Easy. He clung to the feed of information he was getting. She knew what to do know.
“Give me a burst of happiness,” she asked, holding Noah with comfortable ease (that was enviable) and wiggled her fingers.
Noah, much too big and old for the game, kicked his legs and giggled, ducking his head underneath her arm.
“Good boy. I’ve got some candy for you.”
She held out of her fingers, put on finger in Noah’s mouth, and shocked him.
Noah screamed. His mouth was red and bleeding and puffy but he still screamed.
“Oh I’m so sorry. Mommy’s so sorry,” Elle said and she held him. Held him until he calmed down. “Give Mommy a kiss.”
Noah did on her cheek. Elle kissed his lips.
And shocked him again. This went on an on, with Noah starting to sense a dangerous pattern with his mother. Well, this was the real Elle. Always playing games. It was how Gabriel had known her: thus, it was the most legitimate and researched interpretation.
Elle left the room. Gabriel came back in and saw Noah on the floor, crying. Now he had a reason to cry.
“What happened, buddy?” Gabriel asked and picked him up. Noah cried and cried. Gabriel healed him before Elle got back.
He did have to protect Noah from Elle after all. The boy didn’t know his mother very well, so it wasn’t his fault.
***
Elle’s love for Noah never faded.
Even when he winced from her and hid behind Gabriel’s legs. Her eyes would dim but she kept her smile.
“No more sparks,” Noah cried once at dinner when Elle went to ruffle his hair. She froze. Gabriel did too. After all, he hadn’t known about Elle’s behavior.
“What?” he asked, his eyes narrowed.
“I, I don’t know,” Elle said, confused. “Did you ever tell him?”
Gabriel gave her a look and kept on eating. The answer was obvious enough.
“Then how…how did he know?”
“You might be sparking when you don’t know it,” Gabriel offered the solution. Elle made an expression of hurt and alarm (he had these well labeled and put away in his mind) and held her hand to her throat.
“…I really don’t know it. I…you think I’m having blackouts? I used to. They said I did things then too.”
“You could have let me in on that little secret, Elle,” Gabriel said angrily and picked Noah up, carrying him away from his mother. He had a right to be angry. What mother did that to her son? Elle, that’s who. The real Elle.
He would have worked on that angle. He would have eaten up Elle’s sad pleading for forgiveness and Noah’s increased reliance upon him. As it should have been.
But one night, he caught her outside Noah’s room, looking at the sleeping boy in a way that she had never looked at Gabriel.
She looked at him with love.
A whole new world of love. A mother’s love.
What happened next was not his fault.
***
In fact, what happened next…well, nothing happened next.
Elle went away, spending more time apart from her cringing and frightened child. Now, Noah was hurting Elle. He’d make Noah better. So, he opened Noah’s head up on the table to find out about all about Noah.
Turns out, there was nothing miraculous about him.
Noah didn’t die. After all, he had all their most important traits within him. The parts lived in him. In the end, Noah wasn’t a part, but he wasn’t that special either. So he became a part. No one was killed, you see. It was just another change in nature. Instead of Noah taking Gabriel’s skin, Gabriel took Noah’s. One entity still took another's place. It balanced out.
Elle returned home to find a crying Noah in the floor and a clean kitchen table. The only thing on the table was a note from Gabriel saying he had decided to leave and that he couldn’t be around them anymore. He wrote that he had loved her. For what it was worth, he had loved her.
Noah continued to cry in his Sponge Bob Squarepants pajamas. Elle, looking beautiful and strong and so mysterious, knelt down and held out her arms to Noah. Noah toddled right up to her without hesitation. Of course, his father had scared him.
She picked him up, this time, and held him. She kissed him on the forehead and told him everything was going to be all right. She looked at him with a mother’s love. It was like seeing the sun for the first time.
She’d never check the ground underneath the garden (where other things grew), and after awhile, Noah began to believe he really was Noah as he grew up.
They were happy together, just the two of them.
A bond between a mother and her child was sacred after all.
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Date: 2010-01-24 08:22 pm (UTC)Wow.
So amazing, I can't even leave a coherent comment.
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Date: 2010-01-24 09:08 pm (UTC)Thank you so much. I was a bit hesitant because this wasn't the original ending. But then Sylar...did that. And I was like okay, should I go for this?...so I'm so glad it worked omg.
So thank you I appreciate the comment! :-)
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Date: 2010-01-24 10:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-24 10:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-25 02:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-25 05:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-27 03:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-28 03:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-27 10:08 am (UTC)Excellent work , its very very well written and so in character , I could totally see Sylar doing that >__<
And Sylar going from being her Husband ( or her BF ) to wanting to be her son O_o , That guy has Serious Disturbing Issues
I feel bad for Elle , Sylar doing all that behind her back . Poor Elle
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Date: 2010-01-28 03:50 am (UTC)Yes, it was a creepy thing to write (and sad as well) so I'm glad it held up. (and yes, for some disturbing issues!)
Thanks for the comment on this one, I was nervous about it...<3
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Date: 2010-05-24 01:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-05-25 05:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-05-26 12:28 am (UTC)love love LOVE!
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Date: 2011-12-08 10:30 am (UTC)Wow.
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Date: 2011-12-09 04:17 pm (UTC)