A nerdy crossover.
Fic: Derezzed.
Rating: PGish.
Characters/Pairings: Peter and Sylar, eventual Peter/Sylar.
Summary: A Tron AU where Peter is an anti-virus program and Sylar is a virus program.
Warnings: Unbeta'd and I've only seen the newest Tron so I'm not too familiar with the lingo and all that. So forgive me if I got something wrong.
Notes: I'm aware this is nerdy. Now then, to convince someone to draw Milo and Zach in those awe-inspiring skintight suits...
Peter surveys the scene in front of him for some time. Things were quiet on The Grid, most programs "sleeping" (in that they were conserving energy, usually) and only the very suspicious ones were out and about. He wondered, briefly, why such a feeling of dread- if it was possible to feel such a thing- was currently boiling up in his chest, and his hand reaches up to gently touch the jagged scar across his face.
He remembers a time, many cycles ago, when someone he once considered on his side sliced up his face and left him to fade away. Something - or rather, someone- had saved him, but the scar still remained, like jagged glass marring his otherwise smooth features.
Tilting his head upwards, he closes his eyes and revels in the way particles fall from the sky, what he imagines rain to be like in the users' world, and the sudden, uncontrollable feeling of longing strikes him hard. He staggers back from the ledge of the roof he was standing on and stays still for several long moments, willing his composure to return. He thinks he might be okay when a noise surprises him. Turning to look, his brow furrows in annoyance and he drops his hand mid-reach for the disk on his back.
"Sylar."
The program in question just smiles, looking far too pleased for his own good, and he steps closer, the orange-red lines of code on his clothes a sharp contrast to the muted gray of their surroundings.
"Hello, Peter. Feeling alright?"
Peter ignores the question, instead opting to cross his arms across his chest.
"How many times do I have to tell you to go away?" As if to prove his point, he reaches back and pulls his identity disk from it's holder, holding it tightly in his right fist at his side. Sylar raises an amused eyebrow but makes no move to retrieve his own disk.
"I want to be your friend, is that so bad?"
Peter snorts.
"You're a virus and I'm an anti-virus. Of course it is. You do bad things, I stop you. Game over."
He hopes the exasperation doesn't show too much in his voice, but judging by the way the other program is watching him, it has.
"What if I told you I was thinking of switching sides?"
When Peter's eyes widen almost comically, he continues, "After all, being a virus stopped being fun cycles ago. Now I only wreck havoc because I don't know what else to do."
"You don't have the capacity to do good, Sylar. I've seen what you've done."
While this is very true, Sylar knows that deep down inside every program can change, if he or she (and sometimes, it) has the ability to be different. No one was controlling them now, no users were telling them what to do. They were free.
"Peter," he sighs, and takes another step forward, prompting Peter to raise his disk just a tad higher than he was previously, "Who do you think saved you when that Trojan program slashed your face?"
When the other program doesn't reply, Sylar reaches up to tentatively touch the scar in question. Peter's eyes widen and he realizes that it is entirely possible. He remembers the searing pain of the cut, and the shattering noise, and then nothing. When he came back to, he was being given some energy in a small vial and he was being watched by some of the other anti-virus programs.
"I should have been derezzed," Peter says, rather dumbly, and Sylar just nods carefully. "But I didn't. What did you do? How?"
He knows he's babbling, but he doesn't care. Sylar shrugs one shoulder, but his gaze never leaves Peter's.
"I have an idea of how things work around here. I couldn't figure out how to fix your coding, but I knew how to isolate it. Hence, this." He points to the scar again and Peter feels the sudden urge to thank the virus standing in front of him. For several long moments, neither speak, until Peter sighs, "Why me?"
This time, the program in front of him doesn't even hesitate, smiling just a little as he begins to explain.
"You're fascinating. You're not like the others. Well, technically, you are, but you want something more, don't you? Something more than this?" He gestures around and when Peter doesn't say anything, he adds, "We're destined for great things, Peter, you and me."
Peter thinks back through the cycles, through all the times he and the virus have fought, time and time again clashing but nothing ever really changing. In many ways, Sylar has become the only stable thing in Peter's existence, the only thing giving him purpose, and now...he's standing in front of him, opening up whole new doors to the anti-virus' world.
Sylar slides his hand, which has been resting on Peter's shoulder, up to gently cup his jaw, and when the other program doesn't flinch, leans down and plants a single, chaste kiss against his lips. Peter stands very still, not sure what to do or think, and when Sylar pulls back he notices that the lines of coding have turned light blue, now matching Peter's own.
It takes a millicycle, but Peter reaches up and puts his disk back to its place on his back and nods his head.
"Okay," he says, and with a pleased smile, Sylar links their hands together and they both turn to look up, feeling the particles cleansing them of all their past sins, starting them on a life anew.
Rating: PGish.
Characters/Pairings: Peter and Sylar, eventual Peter/Sylar.
Summary: A Tron AU where Peter is an anti-virus program and Sylar is a virus program.
Warnings: Unbeta'd and I've only seen the newest Tron so I'm not too familiar with the lingo and all that. So forgive me if I got something wrong.
Notes: I'm aware this is nerdy. Now then, to convince someone to draw Milo and Zach in those awe-inspiring skintight suits...
Peter surveys the scene in front of him for some time. Things were quiet on The Grid, most programs "sleeping" (in that they were conserving energy, usually) and only the very suspicious ones were out and about. He wondered, briefly, why such a feeling of dread- if it was possible to feel such a thing- was currently boiling up in his chest, and his hand reaches up to gently touch the jagged scar across his face.
He remembers a time, many cycles ago, when someone he once considered on his side sliced up his face and left him to fade away. Something - or rather, someone- had saved him, but the scar still remained, like jagged glass marring his otherwise smooth features.
Tilting his head upwards, he closes his eyes and revels in the way particles fall from the sky, what he imagines rain to be like in the users' world, and the sudden, uncontrollable feeling of longing strikes him hard. He staggers back from the ledge of the roof he was standing on and stays still for several long moments, willing his composure to return. He thinks he might be okay when a noise surprises him. Turning to look, his brow furrows in annoyance and he drops his hand mid-reach for the disk on his back.
"Sylar."
The program in question just smiles, looking far too pleased for his own good, and he steps closer, the orange-red lines of code on his clothes a sharp contrast to the muted gray of their surroundings.
"Hello, Peter. Feeling alright?"
Peter ignores the question, instead opting to cross his arms across his chest.
"How many times do I have to tell you to go away?" As if to prove his point, he reaches back and pulls his identity disk from it's holder, holding it tightly in his right fist at his side. Sylar raises an amused eyebrow but makes no move to retrieve his own disk.
"I want to be your friend, is that so bad?"
Peter snorts.
"You're a virus and I'm an anti-virus. Of course it is. You do bad things, I stop you. Game over."
He hopes the exasperation doesn't show too much in his voice, but judging by the way the other program is watching him, it has.
"What if I told you I was thinking of switching sides?"
When Peter's eyes widen almost comically, he continues, "After all, being a virus stopped being fun cycles ago. Now I only wreck havoc because I don't know what else to do."
"You don't have the capacity to do good, Sylar. I've seen what you've done."
While this is very true, Sylar knows that deep down inside every program can change, if he or she (and sometimes, it) has the ability to be different. No one was controlling them now, no users were telling them what to do. They were free.
"Peter," he sighs, and takes another step forward, prompting Peter to raise his disk just a tad higher than he was previously, "Who do you think saved you when that Trojan program slashed your face?"
When the other program doesn't reply, Sylar reaches up to tentatively touch the scar in question. Peter's eyes widen and he realizes that it is entirely possible. He remembers the searing pain of the cut, and the shattering noise, and then nothing. When he came back to, he was being given some energy in a small vial and he was being watched by some of the other anti-virus programs.
"I should have been derezzed," Peter says, rather dumbly, and Sylar just nods carefully. "But I didn't. What did you do? How?"
He knows he's babbling, but he doesn't care. Sylar shrugs one shoulder, but his gaze never leaves Peter's.
"I have an idea of how things work around here. I couldn't figure out how to fix your coding, but I knew how to isolate it. Hence, this." He points to the scar again and Peter feels the sudden urge to thank the virus standing in front of him. For several long moments, neither speak, until Peter sighs, "Why me?"
This time, the program in front of him doesn't even hesitate, smiling just a little as he begins to explain.
"You're fascinating. You're not like the others. Well, technically, you are, but you want something more, don't you? Something more than this?" He gestures around and when Peter doesn't say anything, he adds, "We're destined for great things, Peter, you and me."
Peter thinks back through the cycles, through all the times he and the virus have fought, time and time again clashing but nothing ever really changing. In many ways, Sylar has become the only stable thing in Peter's existence, the only thing giving him purpose, and now...he's standing in front of him, opening up whole new doors to the anti-virus' world.
Sylar slides his hand, which has been resting on Peter's shoulder, up to gently cup his jaw, and when the other program doesn't flinch, leans down and plants a single, chaste kiss against his lips. Peter stands very still, not sure what to do or think, and when Sylar pulls back he notices that the lines of coding have turned light blue, now matching Peter's own.
It takes a millicycle, but Peter reaches up and puts his disk back to its place on his back and nods his head.
"Okay," he says, and with a pleased smile, Sylar links their hands together and they both turn to look up, feeling the particles cleansing them of all their past sins, starting them on a life anew.