fic: Who Cares About The Butterflies?
Title: Who Cares About The Butterflies?
Author: faded_facade
Pairing/Characters: Sylar/Elle, Claire
Rating: PG-13
Prompt:"There are two tragedies in life. One is not to get your heart's desire. The other is to get it." -Oscar Wilde
Summary: He's never been good at fist fights, seeing how his record was pretty poor when it came to combat without powers. But this time, it was different.
Warnings/Spoilers: character death/some s3 & s4 spoilers up to 4.06 "Tabula Rasa"
A/N: Written for a challenge at sylelle_chall and thanks muchly to dragynflies who is wonderful and beta'd this for me!
He's never been good at fist fights, seeing how his record was pretty poor when it came to combat without powers. But this time, it was different. A sneak attack with a little help from his telekinesis. The other man, stunned by the appearance, pinned down by his powers and he did not hesitate to draw back his fist. A resounding crack echoes along the rocky beach as his fist meets the other man's jaw.
It's a strange experience to battle himself, though still oddly satisfying to win.
"A psychiatrist's dream," he mutters lowly as he kneels down to look at himself. Or rather, his self from two years ago. He knows he didn't have much time and takes out a small knife he had tucked away in his pants. The knife's blade jams into his past self's head and he quickly snaps his fingers, a stream of electricity flowing out. His old self is charred in seconds and he mentally flings the body into the ocean. The charred remains sizzle slightly as it makes contact with the cold ocean water. As he looks out at the dark sky, save for a bright full moon, he hears something and turns around.
"What was that?" Elle asks sharply as she finds herself on a beach instead of holding onto Sandra Bennet.
Sylar takes a deep breath as he looks at her. The reason he came back.
---
After he had killed Elle and set her body alight, there had been a nagging emptiness inside him. Dismissing the feeling, he spent the next few months on a search for his biological father. A trip he came to regret after meeting the man. There was no fulfillment, no joy in it. Just a confirmation that maybe apples don't fall far from the tree after all.
Desperate to immerse himself in something new, he found a power that was intoxicating. Shapeshifting. An ability to change who he really was. An ability that could give him the new start he should have had in the beginning.
What he had not anticipated were the issues that came along with shapeshifting. Who am I? floated constantly in his mind. Often, he found his mind wandering to Elle and what she had said in the lobby of the car rental place.
She had understood him. And he had blindly killed her in a fit of insecurity.
He ended up losing a good chunk of the year following the Nathan Petrelli incident. Brainwashed by Matt Parkman to believe he was Nathan Petrelli, he lived the elder Petrelli son's life for awhile. Until the day he died and became reborn.
Even in his amnesiac state, his little foray into romance with Lydia at the carnival never sat right in his mind. There was always a nagging feeling at the back of his head that he could not get rid of. Always felt like there was a sharp spark going off in his brain. Never could quite put his finger on it until one day, something just clicked.
The memories didn't come flooding back at once. Just fragments here and there and it took him awhile to regain his memory of his past self. Put all the pieces back together like he was completing a thousand piece jigsaw puzzle. And there are still a few pieces missing but he has enough to know his destiny lay elsewhere and with someone else.
---
"Hiro Nakamura."
A puzzled look appears on her face as she limps towards him, her blood running down her leg. "Huh, well strange day."
Then there's that goddamn flinch. The flinch that had made him second guess her. Second guess himself. But there will be none of that tonight.
He's already lived without her in one lifetime. Like hell he's going to let that happen again. He has her lie still in the sand as he finds a sharp enough rock to slice his hand. Both of them watch breathlessly as his blood drips into her wound, both waiting to see if that bullet would pop out and the wound heal itself.
It doesn't happen like that though. Instead, Elle grits her teeth and sparks fly out from her body as Sylar waves his hand over her wound and the bullet pops out, followed by rivulets of bright red blood. After stealing another car and finding their way to a hospital, Elle's leg is fixed. Any nurses and doctors that saw her sparking body are quickly disposed of and both grimly leave the hospital.
"Where do we go from here?"
"Anywhere," comes his ambiguous reply.
Elle stops walking and folds her arms across her chest. "So no more doing Arthur's bidding?"
"We're done with that," Sylar tells her resolutely. His mind flashes to his time without her. Finding out Arthur and Angela had played him for a fool, then finding his real father...he needed a new start. "We'll do what you want."
"And what did I want?"
"A chance to reinvent ourselves. Free of parents."
---
Four Years Later
"Elle, no!"
The shot rings out in the house and a body crumples to the ground.
"You."
"You honestly didn't think you two would just simply disappear from the radar, did you?" Claire smirks, her dark brown hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. She waves the gun and tosses it to the ground. "But one down and one to go."
Sylar eyes her, his anger burning through him. He looks at Elle's prone body, the pool of blood growing with every passing moment. Refusing to believe she was always meant to die so callously, he knows he can fix things. Looking back up at Claire, his voice is icy cold.
"You underestimate me. I'll look forward to seeing you in another future."
With a pop, he disappears from her sight.
Author: faded_facade
Pairing/Characters: Sylar/Elle, Claire
Rating: PG-13
Prompt:"There are two tragedies in life. One is not to get your heart's desire. The other is to get it." -Oscar Wilde
Summary: He's never been good at fist fights, seeing how his record was pretty poor when it came to combat without powers. But this time, it was different.
Warnings/Spoilers: character death/some s3 & s4 spoilers up to 4.06 "Tabula Rasa"
A/N: Written for a challenge at sylelle_chall and thanks muchly to dragynflies who is wonderful and beta'd this for me!
He's never been good at fist fights, seeing how his record was pretty poor when it came to combat without powers. But this time, it was different. A sneak attack with a little help from his telekinesis. The other man, stunned by the appearance, pinned down by his powers and he did not hesitate to draw back his fist. A resounding crack echoes along the rocky beach as his fist meets the other man's jaw.
It's a strange experience to battle himself, though still oddly satisfying to win.
"A psychiatrist's dream," he mutters lowly as he kneels down to look at himself. Or rather, his self from two years ago. He knows he didn't have much time and takes out a small knife he had tucked away in his pants. The knife's blade jams into his past self's head and he quickly snaps his fingers, a stream of electricity flowing out. His old self is charred in seconds and he mentally flings the body into the ocean. The charred remains sizzle slightly as it makes contact with the cold ocean water. As he looks out at the dark sky, save for a bright full moon, he hears something and turns around.
"What was that?" Elle asks sharply as she finds herself on a beach instead of holding onto Sandra Bennet.
Sylar takes a deep breath as he looks at her. The reason he came back.
---
After he had killed Elle and set her body alight, there had been a nagging emptiness inside him. Dismissing the feeling, he spent the next few months on a search for his biological father. A trip he came to regret after meeting the man. There was no fulfillment, no joy in it. Just a confirmation that maybe apples don't fall far from the tree after all.
Desperate to immerse himself in something new, he found a power that was intoxicating. Shapeshifting. An ability to change who he really was. An ability that could give him the new start he should have had in the beginning.
What he had not anticipated were the issues that came along with shapeshifting. Who am I? floated constantly in his mind. Often, he found his mind wandering to Elle and what she had said in the lobby of the car rental place.
She had understood him. And he had blindly killed her in a fit of insecurity.
He ended up losing a good chunk of the year following the Nathan Petrelli incident. Brainwashed by Matt Parkman to believe he was Nathan Petrelli, he lived the elder Petrelli son's life for awhile. Until the day he died and became reborn.
Even in his amnesiac state, his little foray into romance with Lydia at the carnival never sat right in his mind. There was always a nagging feeling at the back of his head that he could not get rid of. Always felt like there was a sharp spark going off in his brain. Never could quite put his finger on it until one day, something just clicked.
The memories didn't come flooding back at once. Just fragments here and there and it took him awhile to regain his memory of his past self. Put all the pieces back together like he was completing a thousand piece jigsaw puzzle. And there are still a few pieces missing but he has enough to know his destiny lay elsewhere and with someone else.
---
"Hiro Nakamura."
A puzzled look appears on her face as she limps towards him, her blood running down her leg. "Huh, well strange day."
Then there's that goddamn flinch. The flinch that had made him second guess her. Second guess himself. But there will be none of that tonight.
He's already lived without her in one lifetime. Like hell he's going to let that happen again. He has her lie still in the sand as he finds a sharp enough rock to slice his hand. Both of them watch breathlessly as his blood drips into her wound, both waiting to see if that bullet would pop out and the wound heal itself.
It doesn't happen like that though. Instead, Elle grits her teeth and sparks fly out from her body as Sylar waves his hand over her wound and the bullet pops out, followed by rivulets of bright red blood. After stealing another car and finding their way to a hospital, Elle's leg is fixed. Any nurses and doctors that saw her sparking body are quickly disposed of and both grimly leave the hospital.
"Where do we go from here?"
"Anywhere," comes his ambiguous reply.
Elle stops walking and folds her arms across her chest. "So no more doing Arthur's bidding?"
"We're done with that," Sylar tells her resolutely. His mind flashes to his time without her. Finding out Arthur and Angela had played him for a fool, then finding his real father...he needed a new start. "We'll do what you want."
"And what did I want?"
"A chance to reinvent ourselves. Free of parents."
---
Four Years Later
"Elle, no!"
The shot rings out in the house and a body crumples to the ground.
"You."
"You honestly didn't think you two would just simply disappear from the radar, did you?" Claire smirks, her dark brown hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. She waves the gun and tosses it to the ground. "But one down and one to go."
Sylar eyes her, his anger burning through him. He looks at Elle's prone body, the pool of blood growing with every passing moment. Refusing to believe she was always meant to die so callously, he knows he can fix things. Looking back up at Claire, his voice is icy cold.
"You underestimate me. I'll look forward to seeing you in another future."
With a pop, he disappears from her sight.