(no subject)
Gwen's Christmas has definitely left something to be desired. What should have been her first Christmas with her new husband was essentially celebrating with a stranger. Peter tries, and she can appreciate that he tries, can appreciate that he's enough himself to try, but it's been increasingly difficult as the days keep lining up without any progress. At least last Christmas she got laid. Melancholy and hormonal, she's been keeping to herself more lately than she probably should.
Even without the typical hustle and bustle of the holidays, Gwen feels worn, drained from so many days of keeping up the good face and being the supportive wife. Today, she's had her breakfast and can think of nothing better than being back in her bed. Bundled up in furs, she trudges back to the cabin she and Peter share.
It's the snow that gives him away. It crunches underfoot and is difficult to avoid, making it hard to sneak. The sound catches her attention, and then a brief flurry of movement stills her, making her heart instinctively clench in her chest as memories surface unbidden. Gwen's had her fair share of being hunted, and as she stares into the forest, she marvels at whatever stupidity made her think that walking anywhere alone was a good idea. Mentally, she's already calculated the distance back to the Compound, to the treehouse, and to the cabin, although she hopes it's nothing at all because the baby will slow her down.
From his place in the shadows, Sylar is silently cursing the snow and Gwen both. His intention isn't to kill her -- Well, not unless he has to -- but she's valuable both as Peter's weak point and a source of information. He's been following her for over a month now, watching and waiting for Petrelli to come out of his amnesia. Ending Peter's life would seem such a hollow acheivement if he wasn't aware of who was killing him. It's become tedious, however, and Sylar's impatient. He should have taken better care with walking in the snow.
Gwen focuses on him -- Really focuses, her green eyes narrowing and then widening when the recognition hits. Her first thought is that he's not supposed to be here, followed immediately by the instinct to find her husband and make certain he's still alive and well. She takes one backwards step on the path, and then another, before turning and breaking into an awkward sprint back to the Compound.
Sylar hisses a curse, but smiles anyway. It's not what he'd planned, not what he'd wanted, but it can be game on.
Even without the typical hustle and bustle of the holidays, Gwen feels worn, drained from so many days of keeping up the good face and being the supportive wife. Today, she's had her breakfast and can think of nothing better than being back in her bed. Bundled up in furs, she trudges back to the cabin she and Peter share.
It's the snow that gives him away. It crunches underfoot and is difficult to avoid, making it hard to sneak. The sound catches her attention, and then a brief flurry of movement stills her, making her heart instinctively clench in her chest as memories surface unbidden. Gwen's had her fair share of being hunted, and as she stares into the forest, she marvels at whatever stupidity made her think that walking anywhere alone was a good idea. Mentally, she's already calculated the distance back to the Compound, to the treehouse, and to the cabin, although she hopes it's nothing at all because the baby will slow her down.
From his place in the shadows, Sylar is silently cursing the snow and Gwen both. His intention isn't to kill her -- Well, not unless he has to -- but she's valuable both as Peter's weak point and a source of information. He's been following her for over a month now, watching and waiting for Petrelli to come out of his amnesia. Ending Peter's life would seem such a hollow acheivement if he wasn't aware of who was killing him. It's become tedious, however, and Sylar's impatient. He should have taken better care with walking in the snow.
Gwen focuses on him -- Really focuses, her green eyes narrowing and then widening when the recognition hits. Her first thought is that he's not supposed to be here, followed immediately by the instinct to find her husband and make certain he's still alive and well. She takes one backwards step on the path, and then another, before turning and breaking into an awkward sprint back to the Compound.
Sylar hisses a curse, but smiles anyway. It's not what he'd planned, not what he'd wanted, but it can be game on.