Recollection
Title: Recollection (1/?)
Pairing: Sylar/Peter
Rating: PG
Warnings: angst, pain, description of blood and suffering but nothing too bad
Disclaimer: I don't own them.
Summary: It's been almost a year since Angela and Noah had Matt brainwash Sylar. Now the truth is surfacing, and Peter is the one who has to deal with the mess.
Nathan/Sylar’s POV
It was those tiny blue sparks in his hand that finally released the flood within me and brought me to my knees.
I clamp my eyes tightly shut against the excruciating pain as images stream across my mind’s eyes. I can see a blonde woman chained to the floor; crying, screaming, sparking…
Elle.
The pain increases to an agonizing level as the scenes fly by faster. Memories, I realize, as what had been suppressed for almost a year begins to rapidly click back into place.
My biological mother, dead by my father’s hand.
Brian Davies…Elle…Claire…Peter…Kirby Plaza…Pinehearst…My abilities…Danko…Nathan…
The woman who was my mother in all but blood, staring at me with wide eyes as the scissors protrude from her chest, crimson life pouring from the wound to pool around her as she collapses.
But it is not simply a matter of filling in empty spaces. I can feel Nathan’s memories and the memories of my life as Nathan warring with the truth. The agony is unbearable. I don’t know when I start to scream, long pain-filled cries that personify my suffering.
I can’t say whether the immeasurable pain coursing through me is physical, brought on by my body shifting from the guise of Nathan to my own form after so long, or if it’s mental and emotional, a result of everything Nathan being ripped from its place and pushed out by my true memory and sense of self.
Regardless of the cause, I can feel myself shuddering uncontrollably from the torment, wracked with choking sobs as I distantly realize that I’m crying out for all of it to stop.
I manage to force my eyes open for a brief moment, lifting my head with tremendous effort to meet Peter’s shell-shocked gaze.
“Please…” I beg through gritted teeth. “Help me.”
There is no warning as the blessed relief of unconsciousness claims me.