Fic: The Finish Line
Title: The Finish Line
Author: hihielmo
Pairing: Sylar/Luke
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Some serious non-con implications in here. No one is actually raped but it could be considered triggering. Please read with caution.
Spoilers: Spoilers for the entire 3rd season, especially the last episode!
Notes: Written for the heroes_bingo prompt “Love/Hate” and the sacred_20 prompt “Rebirth”.
Summary: Luke helps Sylar find himself. In a sense.
Luke was living with the Bennet’s for a total of seven months before Sylar found him again. Luke wondered in truth who Sylar was really looking for, Claire or him, the night Luke went for a walk in Costa Verde and ran into a familiar looking politician.
Nathan Petrelli. Luke raised his eyebrows at the pristine man who sat on the park bench staring at him with eyes Luke couldn’t place. Nathan’s name had been whispered by Claire and Noah a few times in Luke’s presence. He had even found a picture of the man in Claire’s drawer one day when Sandra had asked Luke to put her laundry away.
Luke put it back. Sometimes it was just better not to ask, especially when fathers were involved.
He nodded to Nathan, burning with curiosity. He stood before him a full moment before he said anything, trying to remember where else he had seen eyes like that.
“Are you here to see Claire?” he asked without preamble. Petrelli looked startled but only for a second before his face snapped back to impassiveness.
“What do you know about Claire?” Nathan asked and Luke shrugged, seeing to no reason.
“I’m sort of her charity case.”
“I see,” Nathan leaned back, apprising him.
“So, are you here to see her? Because she’s out with her friends,” Luke said, meeting Nathan’s gaze.
“I’m here for a lot of things Luke,” Nathan stood and Luke’s eyebrow’s furrowed, suspicion buzzing in his mind. A strange ripping noise filled the silence and Luke leap back with a yelp as the man in front of him rippled and shifted under him skin. Everything changed but those eyes. They stayed the same, dark and intense.
Sylar’s nose and lips formed on what was Nathan’s face and Luke fought the urge to be sick. Sylar stood before him, transformed and smirking.
“Little Luke,” the mocking tone that Luke hated slipped from Sylar’s lips and he stepped forward, hands resting on Luke’s lips. “You’ve been busy.”
“You…” words escaped him as one or Sylar’s hands began massaging his hip. Luke swallowed, throat dry.
“Me,” Sylar whispered. “Did you miss me?”
“No!” the insolent teenager in Luke had shouted out and Sylar’s eyebrow’s flew up, sensing the lie.
“Why are you here?” Luke hissed, still not pulling away from Sylar’s embrace.
“Like I said, I came back for a lot of reasons. Maybe I came back for you.”
“You didn’t.”
“Maybe I did,” Sylar said and then leant down to capture Luke’s lips in a bruising, burning kiss. Feelings and memories from road side motels and stolen moments in his mother’s SUV hit Luke hard and he was left gasping. But the anger of his abandonment sweep into his mind and he broke the kiss.
“No!” Luke snapped, moving away from Sylar, “You left me! You don’t just kiss me and expect me to just forget that.”
Sylar’s lip curled and the air around them buzzed with a forgotten anger. Luke met his glare head on, praying Sylar couldn’t smell his fear or some other tell.
“Right,” Sylar sneered and followed Luke’s step back with his own forward so their bodies were pressed flush together. “Well then Luke, maybe I should go.”
“Maybe you should,” Luke murmured, stomach twisting and Sylar’s lips brushed his ear.
“You don’t want me to,” Sylar argued and Luke wasn’t sure who he was convincing. Anger bit at the back of Luke’s throat as Sylar leaned down and nipped at the front. Microwaves burst out of Luke unbidden and Sylar fell back, burning and smoking.
Luke turned to race back to the Bennet house, fear and longing warring inside of him. An ice cold hand gripped his wrist and a yell was ripped from Luke as it iced over Luke’s pulsing red palm.
“Stop!” Luke turned back to Sylar, trying to pull himself free. The crazy smirk that Luke had tried so many times to imitate was splayed across his face. “Please just let go of me.” His voice caught on the last word, tears flooding his eyes.
Surprisingly, the hand dropped and Sylar was looking at him strangely. Luke didn’t run, just stood there staring and rubbing his wrist. Tears were still falling but he made no effort to wipe them away.
Sylar’s hand touched his face gently and Luke jerked away before he realized all he was doing was whipping away his tears. Luke blinked up at him and Sylar cleared his throat, looking wild and confused.
“I’m not like this,” he said simply, “I’m not a rapist. I’m not…” he trailed off, looking lost and Luke’s confusion rose.
“I don’t understand,” he snapped at Sylar. Sylar’s eyes met his and they were still his, only more puzzled them Luke had ever seen them.
“This isn’t right,” Luke could here the fury hidden in the tone but the honest bewilderment laid bare in it was what scared him the most. Against him better judgment he stepped forward and laid a hand on Sylar’s arm.
Neither man said anything. Luke led Sylar to the bench and they sat together, both lost in their uncertainty. Finally Luke turned to Sylar, eyes determined.
“You’re Nathan Petrelli,” he said and Sylar looked at him, annoyed but he continued. “You’re a congressman from New York, you have a daughter-”
“Luke, what are you doing?” Sylar said, annoyance waning and an odd look crossing his face as if he were warring with himself. Luke pressed on.
“You’re special. You have a power and a brother… I think. You’re mom’s batshit insane but Claire looks up to her and you do too.”
The ripping and shifting sound returned and in moments Nathan Petrelli sat next to him, blinking and puzzled.
“Who are you?” he asked, glaring at Luke. Luke expelled a breath like a laugh, eyes wide.
“I can’t believe that fucking worked,” he muttered to himself and Nathan cleared his throat annoyed.
“I’m no one,” Luke said, still smiling with relief. “Just some guy.” He stood to go but was stopped, once again, by a hand on his wrist. Fear racing in him, he turned back but was greeted with only Nathan, though he looked confused.
“What?” Luke snapped as the man surveyed his wrist.
“Your watch,” Nathan said, “It’s running fast.” Luke pulled his hand out of Nathan’s, eyebrows raised.
“Dude, it’s fine,” he said, before turning and walking away swiftly, leaving what was left of the man he admired and feared on a park bench.