Empathy, part 3
Title: Focus
Characters/Pairings: Claude; Mohinder; Sylar/Gabriel; Ando; Kate (OC)
Rating: PG.
Warnings: Angst, some violence and colorful language.
Spoiler alert: Spoilers up to and including Fallout.
Summary: Claude and Ando are both headed to Montreal to find Kate. Sylar/Gabriel react to Sylar's actions.
Parts one and two: http://community.livejournal.com/heroes_fic/401991.html
Claude Rains trudged through the streets of New York City. He hated planes, but he knew that he had to get to Montreal.
"Why did I make that promise," he muttered. "Should have never fallen in bloody love to begin with." He stomped onward, glaring at everyone near him. Of course, they couldn't see him, but he felt better.
Claude spotted a familiar young man a few strides ahead of him. Suresh's son, Mohinder. He smirked as he decided to reduce his own anxiety for a moment.
"Mohiiiiiiiiiindeeeeeeer," Claude whispered behind Suresh. Suresh whirled.
"MOHINDER!" He whirled again as he heard his name spoken.
"Who's there?" Mohinder demanded to the crowd around him. "Who's talking to me?"
"Mohinder..." Claude grinned as his former colleague's son panicked.
"Peter? Is that you? Mr. Sylar?" Mohinder continued to glance around after the voice stopped whispering.
Claude chuckled to himself. Pretending to be a ghost had its moments, he thought, before he remembered the promise he had made fifteen years ago.
Fifteen years earlier, Claude Rains had worked for The Company. Fifteen years ago, his partner, Noah Bennet, had shot him for the same actions that Bennet himself was guilty of-hiding a powered individual. Treachery. Loving someone enough to keep them from the unbearable testing that the Company would inflict. Fifteen years ago, he had willingly taken on permanent invisibility to watch over the woman he loved, and her child.
Fifteen years ago, he trained himself not to think either of their names. If The Company employed a telepath, and the telepath heard him thinking of them, they would be taken. Claude knew the risk of even approaching Nakamura, guileless as he was. But Hiro was like Peter Petrelli. Both were earnest in their pursuit of right, both wore their hearts on their sleeves. Both, Claude knew, would die themselves rather than consider harming another.
But Claude didn't have an idea that Sylar had been lurking beneath the pressed clothes and shy nature of Gabriel Grey.
He pushed his way into a cab headed to the airport. He knew to keep quiet in cabs. Most people, with the exception of the intuitive or crazy, wouldn't notice him if he were quiet.
Sarah. Claude thought her name for the first time in fifteen years. Even before illness had taken her five years ago, he only allowed himself to think of her as mine.
Kate. The child who had always been kind, always compassionate. She wasn't his, by blood. But she was the one thing Claude allowed himself to love.
As night closed in over day, Claude found an empty seat on the plane to Montreal.
"Lucky me," he muttered as he started to doze. "They usually don't have any first class left."
Sylar rose from the floor, admiring the painting. He knew that there was blood on his hands, on his clothes. He stepped into the closet, finding clothes that had once been his.
Sylar dimly remembered reading a passage from a novel. The washing of one's hands...What was it, oh yes.
Many people considered the ritual washing of hands to not only cleanse them from dirt and impurities, but to cleanse the soul.
Gabriel hated himself in this moment. He wanted to run back, to ask the man with the sword to go back, to stop him from becoming--
Sylar dried his hands on the towel by the sink in his mother's home. He looked around, ignoring the obstruction on the floor, smirking at the shattered snowglobes. The smirk turned to shock as he saw the single, undestroyed globe on the shelf, the one that held a photograph from childhood, the photo of a smiling, young--
Gabriel picked up the snowglobe he had given his mother when he was seven. The one that held his picture. It had cost his entire allowance for a month, and he was so scared that she would find the globe, he had left it at Kate's house.
Sylar threw the globe into the countertop with fury. Kate. He could have convinced her, had it not been for that idiot with the sword. Twice he had been interrupted by him.
Gabriel convulsed and sobbed as he realized what had happened. Kate. Mom.
"Oh God," he managed between tears. "Who am I? How can I do this?"
Sylar returned to the loft of Issac Mendez. He had made the phone call already, informing the police of a loud argument in his mother's apartment.
Gabriel had diminished, and Sylar was prominent. Sylar smiled as he picked up the paintbrush and focused.
Kate Harris sat down in the hotel room. She had forgotten at first that she had her wallet. The change of clothes sat in the bag next to her dinner.
"One more day," she said, glancing at her cell phone. She wondered what was going to happen when Hiro Nakamura sent his friend to her.
Ando Masahashi ignored the questions from his co-workers. He ignored the wound on his throat. He almost ignored the note that Hiro had given him with the sword.
Ando stopped outside of his office, unfolding the piece of paper.
"Ando," he read silently. "I know you're angry with me for leaving you, but I need you to be safe. Do not go back to New York City. Go to Montreal, to the park in front of Primatech Paper, CA. You will meet Kate. She has to be kept safe. Hiro."
Ando turned and started towards his apartment. He had to get to the airport, to get to Montreal. Whatever was happening there, Hiro said he was needed. And Hiro could time-travel, so he must know that Ando was needed. And Ando knew that Hiro wouldn't send him into unnecessary danger.
Characters/Pairings: Claude; Mohinder; Sylar/Gabriel; Ando; Kate (OC)
Rating: PG.
Warnings: Angst, some violence and colorful language.
Spoiler alert: Spoilers up to and including Fallout.
Summary: Claude and Ando are both headed to Montreal to find Kate. Sylar/Gabriel react to Sylar's actions.
Parts one and two: http://community.livejournal.com/heroes_fic/401991.html
Claude Rains trudged through the streets of New York City. He hated planes, but he knew that he had to get to Montreal.
"Why did I make that promise," he muttered. "Should have never fallen in bloody love to begin with." He stomped onward, glaring at everyone near him. Of course, they couldn't see him, but he felt better.
Claude spotted a familiar young man a few strides ahead of him. Suresh's son, Mohinder. He smirked as he decided to reduce his own anxiety for a moment.
"Mohiiiiiiiiiindeeeeeeer," Claude whispered behind Suresh. Suresh whirled.
"MOHINDER!" He whirled again as he heard his name spoken.
"Who's there?" Mohinder demanded to the crowd around him. "Who's talking to me?"
"Mohinder..." Claude grinned as his former colleague's son panicked.
"Peter? Is that you? Mr. Sylar?" Mohinder continued to glance around after the voice stopped whispering.
Claude chuckled to himself. Pretending to be a ghost had its moments, he thought, before he remembered the promise he had made fifteen years ago.
Fifteen years earlier, Claude Rains had worked for The Company. Fifteen years ago, his partner, Noah Bennet, had shot him for the same actions that Bennet himself was guilty of-hiding a powered individual. Treachery. Loving someone enough to keep them from the unbearable testing that the Company would inflict. Fifteen years ago, he had willingly taken on permanent invisibility to watch over the woman he loved, and her child.
Fifteen years ago, he trained himself not to think either of their names. If The Company employed a telepath, and the telepath heard him thinking of them, they would be taken. Claude knew the risk of even approaching Nakamura, guileless as he was. But Hiro was like Peter Petrelli. Both were earnest in their pursuit of right, both wore their hearts on their sleeves. Both, Claude knew, would die themselves rather than consider harming another.
But Claude didn't have an idea that Sylar had been lurking beneath the pressed clothes and shy nature of Gabriel Grey.
He pushed his way into a cab headed to the airport. He knew to keep quiet in cabs. Most people, with the exception of the intuitive or crazy, wouldn't notice him if he were quiet.
Sarah. Claude thought her name for the first time in fifteen years. Even before illness had taken her five years ago, he only allowed himself to think of her as mine.
Kate. The child who had always been kind, always compassionate. She wasn't his, by blood. But she was the one thing Claude allowed himself to love.
As night closed in over day, Claude found an empty seat on the plane to Montreal.
"Lucky me," he muttered as he started to doze. "They usually don't have any first class left."
Sylar rose from the floor, admiring the painting. He knew that there was blood on his hands, on his clothes. He stepped into the closet, finding clothes that had once been his.
Sylar dimly remembered reading a passage from a novel. The washing of one's hands...What was it, oh yes.
Many people considered the ritual washing of hands to not only cleanse them from dirt and impurities, but to cleanse the soul.
Gabriel hated himself in this moment. He wanted to run back, to ask the man with the sword to go back, to stop him from becoming--
Sylar dried his hands on the towel by the sink in his mother's home. He looked around, ignoring the obstruction on the floor, smirking at the shattered snowglobes. The smirk turned to shock as he saw the single, undestroyed globe on the shelf, the one that held a photograph from childhood, the photo of a smiling, young--
Gabriel picked up the snowglobe he had given his mother when he was seven. The one that held his picture. It had cost his entire allowance for a month, and he was so scared that she would find the globe, he had left it at Kate's house.
Sylar threw the globe into the countertop with fury. Kate. He could have convinced her, had it not been for that idiot with the sword. Twice he had been interrupted by him.
Gabriel convulsed and sobbed as he realized what had happened. Kate. Mom.
"Oh God," he managed between tears. "Who am I? How can I do this?"
Sylar returned to the loft of Issac Mendez. He had made the phone call already, informing the police of a loud argument in his mother's apartment.
Gabriel had diminished, and Sylar was prominent. Sylar smiled as he picked up the paintbrush and focused.
Kate Harris sat down in the hotel room. She had forgotten at first that she had her wallet. The change of clothes sat in the bag next to her dinner.
"One more day," she said, glancing at her cell phone. She wondered what was going to happen when Hiro Nakamura sent his friend to her.
Ando Masahashi ignored the questions from his co-workers. He ignored the wound on his throat. He almost ignored the note that Hiro had given him with the sword.
Ando stopped outside of his office, unfolding the piece of paper.
"Ando," he read silently. "I know you're angry with me for leaving you, but I need you to be safe. Do not go back to New York City. Go to Montreal, to the park in front of Primatech Paper, CA. You will meet Kate. She has to be kept safe. Hiro."
Ando turned and started towards his apartment. He had to get to the airport, to get to Montreal. Whatever was happening there, Hiro said he was needed. And Hiro could time-travel, so he must know that Ando was needed. And Ando knew that Hiro wouldn't send him into unnecessary danger.