We Wear Our Brains On Our Sleeves
Title: We Wear Our Brains On Our Sleeves
Author: jaune_chat
Fandoms: Fringe/Heroes
Characters: Olivia Dunham, Sylar
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 730
Spoilers: Up to 3x13 “Immortality” for Fringe, vague S3 for Heroes
Warnings: Brains. Literally, brains.
Disclaimer: Heroes belongs to Tim Kring, NBC, et al. and Fringe doesn’t belong to me at all.
A/N: Written for crossovers_las for the prompt “[character] dreams of [character].”
Summary: Olivia dreams of a brain-extracting serial killer. He’s the only one who can help her understand her mind. Literally.
“Olivia.”
She stood in the empty streets of Boston, looking down the road for the echo of her name. A single intake of breath and he was behind her, breathing her air.
“Sylar.”
She turned around, looking up in the face of this familiar stranger who’d become such a frequent visitor to her dreams. He raised a heavy eyebrow at her, his expression rich with the irony of them seeking each other out. She, who’d initially shrank from the idea of being different, he who’d embraced it with open and bloody arms. Olivia, agent of the law. Sylar, one of the most wanted.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Sylar said.
“We have this conversation every time. Stop worrying about it,” she admonished. Olivia slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow and began to walk down the deserted block.
“This isn’t safe.”
“Nothing ever is.”
“You’re too calm,” Sylar said, his eyes narrowing. “You’re resigned.”
“Who told you that?” Olivia asked.
His disdainful glare said everything for him. She squeezed his arm hard and looked up at the gleaming skyscrapers.
“You’re wearing Peter’s coat.”
Sylar snarled and swung her around to look her in the eye. “He’s wearing mine.”
“I know. I’ve been figuring out what’s going to happen. He’ll have to make a choice, and whatever… whoever Peter chooses, that’s whose world will stay,” Olivia said, meeting his gaze unflinchingly.
“So, we have a lot in common then, him and me, is that right? Deciding who lives or dies?”
“Yes. Peter knows now how special he is. He deserves her, the other Olivia.”
“I know when you’re lying,” Sylar said, his voice dangerously low. He let go of her and raised his hand, two fingers extended. “You know you won’t let this happen without a fight. You’re no martyr, Olivia, no more than I am. You want me to cut you open and show you what you already know.”
“I won’t force Peter-.”
“You could, if you wanted to.”
“I can’t be her, the other Olivia.”
“So you admire your doppelganger. That only makes you human. Use her. She’s you, and you have every right to use everything about her.”
Olivia went very still, and finally reached up and grasped Sylar’s outstretched wrist.
“Do it, then. I need to see myself closer.”
He cut her quickly, his telekinesis sharper than any blade, the wound far less bloody than it should have been. A few minutes later, he cradled her mind in his hands for her inspection.
Olivia looked it over carefully, touching here and there, smelling pickles, seeing her mother’s face, hearing Walter’s voice, then Broyles’, then Peter’s. She caressed elsewhere and for a second was there, in the alternate universe. A light scratch across one lobe and she saw a fast-forward of Peter Bishop, every time he’d been there for her. Another touch in a different place and for a moment she saw herself sliding between worlds as if from one room to another, like diving from air to water, her hand clasped with Peter’s, close.
Olivia let go, and Sylar examined her mind curiously.
“There’s nothing for you in there,” she said. “You should go home.”
“Is there something for him in there?” Sylar asked.
“Enough to know he needs to stay here. He wouldn’t be happy there, not really.”
“Here with you?” he persisted.
“Just here.” Olivia’s smile was just the barest flash of light. “Maybe with me. I don’t need to be anyone else to be happy with what I am with him.”
Sylar nodded and placed her brain back in her head, smoothing her hair back into place.
“That goes for you too,” Olivia added, startling the haunted look off of Sylar’s face. “You don’t need to be anyone else.”
“I doubt I-.”
“Don’t doubt.”
Sylar nodded sharply. “I’ll have to take a look at my brain next time.”
“I’ll help,” Olivia promised.
Sylar smiled and tilted his head back. A shaft of sunlight penetrated the clouds to warm them both.
“Ready?” Olivia asked. He nodded and she gave him a little push through the veil back into his own world. Closing her own eyes, she let herself fall, diving through air to water, back into the waking world.
“Olivia?” Peter was shaking her shoulder, trying to wake her. She opened her eyes and briefly took Peter’s hand, a genuine smile on her face.
Author: jaune_chat
Fandoms: Fringe/Heroes
Characters: Olivia Dunham, Sylar
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 730
Spoilers: Up to 3x13 “Immortality” for Fringe, vague S3 for Heroes
Warnings: Brains. Literally, brains.
Disclaimer: Heroes belongs to Tim Kring, NBC, et al. and Fringe doesn’t belong to me at all.
A/N: Written for crossovers_las for the prompt “[character] dreams of [character].”
Summary: Olivia dreams of a brain-extracting serial killer. He’s the only one who can help her understand her mind. Literally.
“Olivia.”
She stood in the empty streets of Boston, looking down the road for the echo of her name. A single intake of breath and he was behind her, breathing her air.
“Sylar.”
She turned around, looking up in the face of this familiar stranger who’d become such a frequent visitor to her dreams. He raised a heavy eyebrow at her, his expression rich with the irony of them seeking each other out. She, who’d initially shrank from the idea of being different, he who’d embraced it with open and bloody arms. Olivia, agent of the law. Sylar, one of the most wanted.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Sylar said.
“We have this conversation every time. Stop worrying about it,” she admonished. Olivia slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow and began to walk down the deserted block.
“This isn’t safe.”
“Nothing ever is.”
“You’re too calm,” Sylar said, his eyes narrowing. “You’re resigned.”
“Who told you that?” Olivia asked.
His disdainful glare said everything for him. She squeezed his arm hard and looked up at the gleaming skyscrapers.
“You’re wearing Peter’s coat.”
Sylar snarled and swung her around to look her in the eye. “He’s wearing mine.”
“I know. I’ve been figuring out what’s going to happen. He’ll have to make a choice, and whatever… whoever Peter chooses, that’s whose world will stay,” Olivia said, meeting his gaze unflinchingly.
“So, we have a lot in common then, him and me, is that right? Deciding who lives or dies?”
“Yes. Peter knows now how special he is. He deserves her, the other Olivia.”
“I know when you’re lying,” Sylar said, his voice dangerously low. He let go of her and raised his hand, two fingers extended. “You know you won’t let this happen without a fight. You’re no martyr, Olivia, no more than I am. You want me to cut you open and show you what you already know.”
“I won’t force Peter-.”
“You could, if you wanted to.”
“I can’t be her, the other Olivia.”
“So you admire your doppelganger. That only makes you human. Use her. She’s you, and you have every right to use everything about her.”
Olivia went very still, and finally reached up and grasped Sylar’s outstretched wrist.
“Do it, then. I need to see myself closer.”
He cut her quickly, his telekinesis sharper than any blade, the wound far less bloody than it should have been. A few minutes later, he cradled her mind in his hands for her inspection.
Olivia looked it over carefully, touching here and there, smelling pickles, seeing her mother’s face, hearing Walter’s voice, then Broyles’, then Peter’s. She caressed elsewhere and for a second was there, in the alternate universe. A light scratch across one lobe and she saw a fast-forward of Peter Bishop, every time he’d been there for her. Another touch in a different place and for a moment she saw herself sliding between worlds as if from one room to another, like diving from air to water, her hand clasped with Peter’s, close.
Olivia let go, and Sylar examined her mind curiously.
“There’s nothing for you in there,” she said. “You should go home.”
“Is there something for him in there?” Sylar asked.
“Enough to know he needs to stay here. He wouldn’t be happy there, not really.”
“Here with you?” he persisted.
“Just here.” Olivia’s smile was just the barest flash of light. “Maybe with me. I don’t need to be anyone else to be happy with what I am with him.”
Sylar nodded and placed her brain back in her head, smoothing her hair back into place.
“That goes for you too,” Olivia added, startling the haunted look off of Sylar’s face. “You don’t need to be anyone else.”
“I doubt I-.”
“Don’t doubt.”
Sylar nodded sharply. “I’ll have to take a look at my brain next time.”
“I’ll help,” Olivia promised.
Sylar smiled and tilted his head back. A shaft of sunlight penetrated the clouds to warm them both.
“Ready?” Olivia asked. He nodded and she gave him a little push through the veil back into his own world. Closing her own eyes, she let herself fall, diving through air to water, back into the waking world.
“Olivia?” Peter was shaking her shoulder, trying to wake her. She opened her eyes and briefly took Peter’s hand, a genuine smile on her face.