Fic: Always
Title: Always
Characters/Pairings: Sylar, Angela Petrelli
Rating: pg-13
Spoiler alert: Don't read unless you've seen the first three eps of this season.
Summary: Angela always knew he would be, with or without her he would be, but always, always because of her.
My baby.
From the moment you were conceived, and after. From the moment I first let him in me and before. I always, always knew you would be there was no way around it.
I dreamed you when you were just a clump of cells and I still carried the stink of infidelity in my chest. The taste of liquor in my throat and his lips when he kissed me, his tongue in my mouth, his never ending thrusts and when it was done and we were spent there were your eyes, my darling, calling to me.
I saw you as a man (such a beautiful man) your bones through your back, your heart beating and beating and your hunger. Your hunger calling to me, a crippling, evil, violent, living thing. I saw the intensity of your need, your never ending want and I felt it, your lips to my breast, I felt it.
Your were just this tiny mass of bits of me and him swirling in my womb breathing and aching your every moment an agony, that never ending hunger my tiny, broken, boy still calling to me, reaching out to me as if I could do a damn thing to save you. You were a wailing, shivering experiment between me and him and it, all of it had failed and I knew it and you knew it to. He remained in the dark.
With my eyes open I had a living, breathing, real little boy clawing at my skirt and needing me but still your hunger drained me and filled me all at once and I could not, would not lift him. I had a husband who felt the swell of my stomach and then knew and would not touch me.
I had no idea why I allowed it to continue but then I could see you as a clumsy, skinny, boy in smudged glasses and skinned knees needing me and I would not lift you. Then as a man barely there, barely anything, the same smudged glasses but such beautiful quick moving hands. Tick, tick, tick. You could see worlds in all those moving bits of metal and spinning things. And I loved you with all the breath in my body with every beat of my heart I loved you.
And then I saw you with blood in your teeth, dead eyes. The crunch of something once living under your heels and the power, stolen, crawling into you, filling you, keeping you warm at night.
You smelled like rot. But you were full and you looked over at me and you smiled such a smile at me, "Mother," you said "look what I can do."
I stood in the blood and tears of every living thing that you would have, I was up to my ankles in it.
"Look what I could do." you said.
It was rising and rising and it was so, so wet and warm and I'm sorry, I'm sorry. It was pouring down my throat and through my nose and in my ears and I closed my eyes.
And I would have screamed but why?
There are so many stories like this. There are so many warnings about this. My mother wore a cross every day of her life and she lit candles and there are things that we are not to do but I never much understood my mother, though I loved her, she had a tendency to get under my skin.
You.
I let the liquid agony carry me away and then a hand pulling me, pulling me.
Understand.
You lay your head upon my chest and spoke to me your words, your voice, slinking and crawling and inching into my ear, your mouth, your mouth biting my neck.
"Mother..."
You would ask me why wouldn't you? You would. But I dreamed you when you were nothing. I dreamed you when I carried both my other babies before and after in my womb. The first time I thought Nathan was you but I felt him kick and said, "No." Then you could have been blood and pain dripping down my legs. I grieved you and said "No." I conceived you. I conceived of you over and over and over again.
There was a time when I could stand it no longer your need and your future victims far away screams as I slept and I dreamed the doctor cutting you out of me. And you felt gone, for so long.
Over and over and over again I felt you and dreamed you and loved you and hated you and wanted you and was sick from you and every time, every time I knew there was no escape of you over and over again you would always, always be. Because I could not stand it anymore the feeling that I had broken and disrupted and I would have you be over and over again I would have you be.
And then you were born a surprisingly effortless birth (not like Peter who practically ripped me in two) and you were much too real. After so much time and so many dreams you were much too alive and true and in my arms. I held my destiny in my arms and was unprepared. I confused what I felt for fear. For something that I could not have, could not handle, could not let be. How could I live in the world, call myself human and allow you to be? The monster you would become. The monster you always, always were...but beautiful, so beautiful.
With every breath in my body I loved you.
I told myself that if I kept you I would kill you to save all the special children who you would take. Children who meant nothing to me and at the time I believed it. I saw myself giving you your first bath and then pushing your tiny head under. Because that was what I should do.
So I ran from you. I signed you away and told my husband it was to save him and me and our child and future children. And you never cried not once.
Forgive me, I was still young.
And I thought maybe, just maybe I had given you a chance but, no. With or without me you would always be. You would always, always be.
And for that I am sorry. For that I am so, so sorry.
For that I watch you as a man restrained on a table. For that I touch your scalp and your blood stained hands.
And you know who I am. I know you know who I am. We've both been waiting for each other for so long. But still you play this game. Still you make me say it. Still you punish me. For bringing you into this world and then turning you away as if I had the right. When you were meant to be mine, only mine, always.
But how often we do things that we shouldn't.
"What do you want of me?" you ask.
"What do you need of me?" I ask.
And I place my palm over yours. I feel you bite at my neck. I feel the blood rush through your veins, the hunger screaming and thrashing and growling in you.
"Everything," you say and don't say, "everything you owe me."
I saw you a lonely child dreaming wanting something you could never quite say. You were meant for so much more then you were offered this you always knew but would not say. When you weren't enough of a real living thing to let yourself speak and need I was a switch in your brain waiting to be flipped. Make no mistake he meant nothing but the spark. Everything that mattered you received from me. I am your hunger. I always knew that. My mother wore a cross. I have always been your mother. You will always be my cross.
And I am lips on your forehead telling you all of this, moving in words that you feel but don't hear.
Characters/Pairings: Sylar, Angela Petrelli
Rating: pg-13
Spoiler alert: Don't read unless you've seen the first three eps of this season.
Summary: Angela always knew he would be, with or without her he would be, but always, always because of her.
My baby.
From the moment you were conceived, and after. From the moment I first let him in me and before. I always, always knew you would be there was no way around it.
I dreamed you when you were just a clump of cells and I still carried the stink of infidelity in my chest. The taste of liquor in my throat and his lips when he kissed me, his tongue in my mouth, his never ending thrusts and when it was done and we were spent there were your eyes, my darling, calling to me.
I saw you as a man (such a beautiful man) your bones through your back, your heart beating and beating and your hunger. Your hunger calling to me, a crippling, evil, violent, living thing. I saw the intensity of your need, your never ending want and I felt it, your lips to my breast, I felt it.
Your were just this tiny mass of bits of me and him swirling in my womb breathing and aching your every moment an agony, that never ending hunger my tiny, broken, boy still calling to me, reaching out to me as if I could do a damn thing to save you. You were a wailing, shivering experiment between me and him and it, all of it had failed and I knew it and you knew it to. He remained in the dark.
With my eyes open I had a living, breathing, real little boy clawing at my skirt and needing me but still your hunger drained me and filled me all at once and I could not, would not lift him. I had a husband who felt the swell of my stomach and then knew and would not touch me.
I had no idea why I allowed it to continue but then I could see you as a clumsy, skinny, boy in smudged glasses and skinned knees needing me and I would not lift you. Then as a man barely there, barely anything, the same smudged glasses but such beautiful quick moving hands. Tick, tick, tick. You could see worlds in all those moving bits of metal and spinning things. And I loved you with all the breath in my body with every beat of my heart I loved you.
And then I saw you with blood in your teeth, dead eyes. The crunch of something once living under your heels and the power, stolen, crawling into you, filling you, keeping you warm at night.
You smelled like rot. But you were full and you looked over at me and you smiled such a smile at me, "Mother," you said "look what I can do."
I stood in the blood and tears of every living thing that you would have, I was up to my ankles in it.
"Look what I could do." you said.
It was rising and rising and it was so, so wet and warm and I'm sorry, I'm sorry. It was pouring down my throat and through my nose and in my ears and I closed my eyes.
And I would have screamed but why?
There are so many stories like this. There are so many warnings about this. My mother wore a cross every day of her life and she lit candles and there are things that we are not to do but I never much understood my mother, though I loved her, she had a tendency to get under my skin.
You.
I let the liquid agony carry me away and then a hand pulling me, pulling me.
Understand.
You lay your head upon my chest and spoke to me your words, your voice, slinking and crawling and inching into my ear, your mouth, your mouth biting my neck.
"Mother..."
You would ask me why wouldn't you? You would. But I dreamed you when you were nothing. I dreamed you when I carried both my other babies before and after in my womb. The first time I thought Nathan was you but I felt him kick and said, "No." Then you could have been blood and pain dripping down my legs. I grieved you and said "No." I conceived you. I conceived of you over and over and over again.
There was a time when I could stand it no longer your need and your future victims far away screams as I slept and I dreamed the doctor cutting you out of me. And you felt gone, for so long.
Over and over and over again I felt you and dreamed you and loved you and hated you and wanted you and was sick from you and every time, every time I knew there was no escape of you over and over again you would always, always be. Because I could not stand it anymore the feeling that I had broken and disrupted and I would have you be over and over again I would have you be.
And then you were born a surprisingly effortless birth (not like Peter who practically ripped me in two) and you were much too real. After so much time and so many dreams you were much too alive and true and in my arms. I held my destiny in my arms and was unprepared. I confused what I felt for fear. For something that I could not have, could not handle, could not let be. How could I live in the world, call myself human and allow you to be? The monster you would become. The monster you always, always were...but beautiful, so beautiful.
With every breath in my body I loved you.
I told myself that if I kept you I would kill you to save all the special children who you would take. Children who meant nothing to me and at the time I believed it. I saw myself giving you your first bath and then pushing your tiny head under. Because that was what I should do.
So I ran from you. I signed you away and told my husband it was to save him and me and our child and future children. And you never cried not once.
Forgive me, I was still young.
And I thought maybe, just maybe I had given you a chance but, no. With or without me you would always be. You would always, always be.
And for that I am sorry. For that I am so, so sorry.
For that I watch you as a man restrained on a table. For that I touch your scalp and your blood stained hands.
And you know who I am. I know you know who I am. We've both been waiting for each other for so long. But still you play this game. Still you make me say it. Still you punish me. For bringing you into this world and then turning you away as if I had the right. When you were meant to be mine, only mine, always.
But how often we do things that we shouldn't.
"What do you want of me?" you ask.
"What do you need of me?" I ask.
And I place my palm over yours. I feel you bite at my neck. I feel the blood rush through your veins, the hunger screaming and thrashing and growling in you.
"Everything," you say and don't say, "everything you owe me."
I saw you a lonely child dreaming wanting something you could never quite say. You were meant for so much more then you were offered this you always knew but would not say. When you weren't enough of a real living thing to let yourself speak and need I was a switch in your brain waiting to be flipped. Make no mistake he meant nothing but the spark. Everything that mattered you received from me. I am your hunger. I always knew that. My mother wore a cross. I have always been your mother. You will always be my cross.
And I am lips on your forehead telling you all of this, moving in words that you feel but don't hear.