Fire and Ice - Part Four
Character: Sylar, Peter and Angela
Genre: Violence - Gen (for now)
Author: thewatchmaker
Fandom: Heroes
Word count: 1600
Rating: R
Prompts:
"Sorry. Not a lot of scenery here in East Texas, kinda got to make your own," Dean Winchester for scifi_muses vol4.6.2011
096. Unusual hearing. 67/100 100_fairytales
26. "The Beautiful People" Marilyn Manson 7/30 30_ballads
Previous Chapters:
I'm the Hero.
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
It’d been a few days since I’d asked Peter to get some answers from his mother. We’d had a few more training sessions, and I was almost getting tired of making him bleed. Almost. The Powers That Be had finally seen to giving me a room upgrade from my bleak gray cell. Now I had a functional dorm style room with a mini-fridge and a bathroom with a door and toilet paper. Yep, I was moving up in the world of the Company.
But if I thought it was dull in my old cell or training the puppy not to piddle on the floor, it was nothing compared to keeping my ears locked to the drone of Peter’s voice. Thanks to a certain mechanic I could hear every minute of his day and night. I heard him snore. I heard him dream. I heard him fart when he woke up. The sound of brushing his teeth was my wake up call, not that I was letting myself sleep. The lack of which was fraying my nerves, but it wasn’t as if anyone expected me to be pleasant. There are advantages of being seen as a complete dick.
I kept waiting for him to talk to Angela, and until he did, I didn’t dare stop paying attention. Was it a violation of precious Peter’s privacy? Of course it was. But it wasn’t as if there weren’t cameras watching my every move day in and out in my room and beyond. I couldn’t take a dump without them knowing about it. At any rate, I hoped they were enjoying the show. I was alternating between being as dull as watching Peter try to read a complex fortune cookie, and as much fun as Raiders of the Lost Ark. Don’t let it be said that I wasn’t an entertaining prisoner.
“Peter! This is a surprise!” I heard Angela greeting her little mistake miles and miles away at the Petrelli Plantation. I’d been there at the mansion once a few years ago, repairing their grandfather clock. It was a beautiful timepiece, and they did a horrendous job of keeping it up. They’d had to pay me a pretty penny to get it working again, and as far as I knew La Petrelli didn’t realize that I was Gabriel Gray the watchmaker who made house calls. But then again she might remember me, not that it mattered.
“A surprise, really ma?” In my mind I could see Peter pulling his sad puppy look on her, kissing her on the cheek and slipping in. It was late on a Sunday morning, and I bet the house smelled like bacon and fresh pancakes although I doubted that Angela cooked any of it. She had quite a large staff when I was there. “Where else would I be for Sunday breakfast?”
Peter sounded a bit sad. He was alone most of the time when he left here. I heard him make a few phone calls, but no one ever sounded that interested in him. There was no girlfriend waiting for him at home, and from what I’d heard the only person who bothered to call him back was Mohinder. I let out a snort and leaned back in my bed while I pretended to read. Those two losers deserved each other. The puppy and the pathetic poser mad scientists. I wondered which one had the bigger daddy issues.
“We’re just sitting down to breakfast, as you well know.” I heard clicking of her heels on the marble floor as they made their way through the house along with the soft thump of Peter’s Converse.
“Is Nathan here?” Peter didn’t sound much like he wanted to talk to his brother. That made me curious. I might have to focus on Angela and snoop a little more. Latching onto Nathan’s voice would be fun too, but I didn’t know what he sounded like.
“No, Nathan and Heidi are looking at townhouses in Washington, DC. Your nephews and I are having breakfast alone.”
“That’s cool. Do they know about Claire, yet?”
“No, not yet, and I’m not sure when they’ll be told. This situation with Claire is very delicate for the family.” Translation, they had to find the best way to spin the story into something that wouldn’t make Nathan look like a deadbeat dad who couldn’t keep his dick in his pants, which is what he was.
There was the sound of children scampering and a flurry of laughter. Peter’s nephews apparently liked him a lot more than Angela did. I was starting to think Peter was the only one in his family with a soul. Claire seemed to have one, but then she’d been raised by Sandra, who while not the brain trust, seemed like a good mother. Of course with Bennet for a father it was a miracle that she gave a shit about anyone.
I zoned out on the boring talk of baseball, bullies and homework. The boys chatted about their mother and how cool it was that she could walk now. Another mystery for me to explore, when I had the time. But right now, I needed Peter to remember his promise to me.
“Come on, Peter. Ask her about me. Ask her if she knew.” The taste of blood filled my mouth, and I discovered that I’d been chewing on the inside corner of my lip. It was an old habit when I concentrated, so it wasn’t a surprise. I licked the blood from the sore spot, feeling the flesh heal.
“Simon, Monty,” Peter said, and I heard a chair scuff on the floor. If I’d been in the room, the noise would have made me wince. It was like rubbing a balloon or nails on a chalkboard. “Why don’t you guys go outside, and I’ll come play with you after I talk to Nana.”
More excitement and the pounding of little feet as the boys left. I heard Peter getting some more coffee and settling back down next to his mother. “Ma, I need to ask you about the Company.”
“What do you want to know, Peter?” She asked, primly. “I hope you know they are doing their best to help you.”
“I’m not asking because of me, Ma. I’m asking because of Sylar.” Oh for fuck’s sake, way to be sly, Peter. Are you sure you’re a Petrelli? I nearly threw my book across the room, but I didn’t want them to suspect I was doing anything other than read like a good little boy.
“Whatever do you mean by that?” She asked.
“Adam told Sylar about his father, ma. Did you know about him? Did you guys know his father was a murderer, and that Sylar would turn out the way he did?” My hands gripped my book so tightly that my knuckles went white, and across the room my coffee cup was shaking on the side of the sink as I tried not to throw my hands into the air.
“Of course not, Peter.”
“Ma, you can’t lie to me. Rene’s not here. I can read your mind if I want to. Hell, I can hear your heartbeat shift when I asked the question. Sylar’s been teaching me a lot about control, and Claude said the Company liked power collectors and empaths. So how about you tell me the truth.”
“Yes, Peter.” I heard Angela’s cup hit the saucer, and now it was her turn to push her chair from the table. “We knew about Samson Gray, and we’d been watching Gabriel for years waiting for him to manifest.”
I heard the muscles in Peter’s throat work as he swallowed. He wasn’t happy, and there was an edge to his voice. “So, you knew he could become a murderer, and you didn’t try to stop him.”
“We thought we had him under control, but he got away from the team watching him. When that happened we did our best to capture him.”
“Guess your best wasn’t too good though was it?” Peter let out a heavy sigh and shuffled away from the table. “Did you have his father locked up too? Is he at the Company somewhere?”
“I don’t know where Samson is, Peter.”
“Fair enough, I’d thank you for telling me the truth, Ma, but since you didn’t do it out of the goodness of your heart, I just can’t do it. Tell the boys I had to go. I gotta think about all of this.” He left the room without kissing her cheek.
Peter didn’t wait for a cab when he got outside. I heard him take to the skies, which made it hard for me to follow him because he was flying so fast, so I focused on Angela instead.
“We have a problem,” she said after hitting the speed dial on her phone. Before I could hone in on the voice on the other side of her phone, there was a cacophony of noise as my lunch arrived.
“Got your lunch, Sylar. Hope you like meatloaf.”
“Great, I love meatloaf.” I gave my keepers a big smile when all I wanted to do was rip their faces off for breaking my concentration. But it was all right. I’d be able to find out the rest of Angela’s secrets soon enough.
“Keep the meatloaf,” we looked over at the door to see Peter there with a pizza box. “I brought pizza. Hope you don’t mind.”
“No, Peter, I don’t mind at all.” Looked like I didn’t just have my father’s name, I might have a friend as well. Now isn’t that interesting.
To be continued...
Comments to my LJ, please. Thanks for reading.
Genre: Violence - Gen (for now)
Author: thewatchmaker
Fandom: Heroes
Word count: 1600
Rating: R
Prompts:
"Sorry. Not a lot of scenery here in East Texas, kinda got to make your own," Dean Winchester for scifi_muses vol4.6.2011
096. Unusual hearing. 67/100 100_fairytales
26. "The Beautiful People" Marilyn Manson 7/30 30_ballads
Previous Chapters:
I'm the Hero.
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
It’d been a few days since I’d asked Peter to get some answers from his mother. We’d had a few more training sessions, and I was almost getting tired of making him bleed. Almost. The Powers That Be had finally seen to giving me a room upgrade from my bleak gray cell. Now I had a functional dorm style room with a mini-fridge and a bathroom with a door and toilet paper. Yep, I was moving up in the world of the Company.
But if I thought it was dull in my old cell or training the puppy not to piddle on the floor, it was nothing compared to keeping my ears locked to the drone of Peter’s voice. Thanks to a certain mechanic I could hear every minute of his day and night. I heard him snore. I heard him dream. I heard him fart when he woke up. The sound of brushing his teeth was my wake up call, not that I was letting myself sleep. The lack of which was fraying my nerves, but it wasn’t as if anyone expected me to be pleasant. There are advantages of being seen as a complete dick.
I kept waiting for him to talk to Angela, and until he did, I didn’t dare stop paying attention. Was it a violation of precious Peter’s privacy? Of course it was. But it wasn’t as if there weren’t cameras watching my every move day in and out in my room and beyond. I couldn’t take a dump without them knowing about it. At any rate, I hoped they were enjoying the show. I was alternating between being as dull as watching Peter try to read a complex fortune cookie, and as much fun as Raiders of the Lost Ark. Don’t let it be said that I wasn’t an entertaining prisoner.
“Peter! This is a surprise!” I heard Angela greeting her little mistake miles and miles away at the Petrelli Plantation. I’d been there at the mansion once a few years ago, repairing their grandfather clock. It was a beautiful timepiece, and they did a horrendous job of keeping it up. They’d had to pay me a pretty penny to get it working again, and as far as I knew La Petrelli didn’t realize that I was Gabriel Gray the watchmaker who made house calls. But then again she might remember me, not that it mattered.
“A surprise, really ma?” In my mind I could see Peter pulling his sad puppy look on her, kissing her on the cheek and slipping in. It was late on a Sunday morning, and I bet the house smelled like bacon and fresh pancakes although I doubted that Angela cooked any of it. She had quite a large staff when I was there. “Where else would I be for Sunday breakfast?”
Peter sounded a bit sad. He was alone most of the time when he left here. I heard him make a few phone calls, but no one ever sounded that interested in him. There was no girlfriend waiting for him at home, and from what I’d heard the only person who bothered to call him back was Mohinder. I let out a snort and leaned back in my bed while I pretended to read. Those two losers deserved each other. The puppy and the pathetic poser mad scientists. I wondered which one had the bigger daddy issues.
“We’re just sitting down to breakfast, as you well know.” I heard clicking of her heels on the marble floor as they made their way through the house along with the soft thump of Peter’s Converse.
“Is Nathan here?” Peter didn’t sound much like he wanted to talk to his brother. That made me curious. I might have to focus on Angela and snoop a little more. Latching onto Nathan’s voice would be fun too, but I didn’t know what he sounded like.
“No, Nathan and Heidi are looking at townhouses in Washington, DC. Your nephews and I are having breakfast alone.”
“That’s cool. Do they know about Claire, yet?”
“No, not yet, and I’m not sure when they’ll be told. This situation with Claire is very delicate for the family.” Translation, they had to find the best way to spin the story into something that wouldn’t make Nathan look like a deadbeat dad who couldn’t keep his dick in his pants, which is what he was.
There was the sound of children scampering and a flurry of laughter. Peter’s nephews apparently liked him a lot more than Angela did. I was starting to think Peter was the only one in his family with a soul. Claire seemed to have one, but then she’d been raised by Sandra, who while not the brain trust, seemed like a good mother. Of course with Bennet for a father it was a miracle that she gave a shit about anyone.
I zoned out on the boring talk of baseball, bullies and homework. The boys chatted about their mother and how cool it was that she could walk now. Another mystery for me to explore, when I had the time. But right now, I needed Peter to remember his promise to me.
“Come on, Peter. Ask her about me. Ask her if she knew.” The taste of blood filled my mouth, and I discovered that I’d been chewing on the inside corner of my lip. It was an old habit when I concentrated, so it wasn’t a surprise. I licked the blood from the sore spot, feeling the flesh heal.
“Simon, Monty,” Peter said, and I heard a chair scuff on the floor. If I’d been in the room, the noise would have made me wince. It was like rubbing a balloon or nails on a chalkboard. “Why don’t you guys go outside, and I’ll come play with you after I talk to Nana.”
More excitement and the pounding of little feet as the boys left. I heard Peter getting some more coffee and settling back down next to his mother. “Ma, I need to ask you about the Company.”
“What do you want to know, Peter?” She asked, primly. “I hope you know they are doing their best to help you.”
“I’m not asking because of me, Ma. I’m asking because of Sylar.” Oh for fuck’s sake, way to be sly, Peter. Are you sure you’re a Petrelli? I nearly threw my book across the room, but I didn’t want them to suspect I was doing anything other than read like a good little boy.
“Whatever do you mean by that?” She asked.
“Adam told Sylar about his father, ma. Did you know about him? Did you guys know his father was a murderer, and that Sylar would turn out the way he did?” My hands gripped my book so tightly that my knuckles went white, and across the room my coffee cup was shaking on the side of the sink as I tried not to throw my hands into the air.
“Of course not, Peter.”
“Ma, you can’t lie to me. Rene’s not here. I can read your mind if I want to. Hell, I can hear your heartbeat shift when I asked the question. Sylar’s been teaching me a lot about control, and Claude said the Company liked power collectors and empaths. So how about you tell me the truth.”
“Yes, Peter.” I heard Angela’s cup hit the saucer, and now it was her turn to push her chair from the table. “We knew about Samson Gray, and we’d been watching Gabriel for years waiting for him to manifest.”
I heard the muscles in Peter’s throat work as he swallowed. He wasn’t happy, and there was an edge to his voice. “So, you knew he could become a murderer, and you didn’t try to stop him.”
“We thought we had him under control, but he got away from the team watching him. When that happened we did our best to capture him.”
“Guess your best wasn’t too good though was it?” Peter let out a heavy sigh and shuffled away from the table. “Did you have his father locked up too? Is he at the Company somewhere?”
“I don’t know where Samson is, Peter.”
“Fair enough, I’d thank you for telling me the truth, Ma, but since you didn’t do it out of the goodness of your heart, I just can’t do it. Tell the boys I had to go. I gotta think about all of this.” He left the room without kissing her cheek.
Peter didn’t wait for a cab when he got outside. I heard him take to the skies, which made it hard for me to follow him because he was flying so fast, so I focused on Angela instead.
“We have a problem,” she said after hitting the speed dial on her phone. Before I could hone in on the voice on the other side of her phone, there was a cacophony of noise as my lunch arrived.
“Got your lunch, Sylar. Hope you like meatloaf.”
“Great, I love meatloaf.” I gave my keepers a big smile when all I wanted to do was rip their faces off for breaking my concentration. But it was all right. I’d be able to find out the rest of Angela’s secrets soon enough.
“Keep the meatloaf,” we looked over at the door to see Peter there with a pizza box. “I brought pizza. Hope you don’t mind.”
“No, Peter, I don’t mind at all.” Looked like I didn’t just have my father’s name, I might have a friend as well. Now isn’t that interesting.
To be continued...
Comments to my LJ, please. Thanks for reading.