[Fic] Echidna and Typhoon (Heroes)
Title: Echidna and Typhoon
Rating: R
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing: Elle/Sylar
Warnings: Some sex, not very explicit. Also, a murder.
Recipient: dragynflies
Summary: Noah Grey learns to kill.
Notes: Originally written for winter secret santa @heroes_exchange. Figured I should post it to my own journal.
The prompt: Elle/Sylar -- psycho!Elle please. Raising Noah to be a good little killer, just like Mommy and Daddy.
Noah was drinking chocolate milk-not the kind with Hershey’s Syrup, but the thick, premixed stuff that’s more like melted ice cream than milk. I was washing the dishes from breakfast, internally debating where to put them when I was done. We’d been living in this apartment for four months now, so part of me thought it was crazy to wrap them up in newspaper and put them back in the cardboard box with the sharpie label.
The idea of actually moving into a place, settling down into domesticity, gave me Restless Leg jitters, so bad I could feel electricity sparking between my toes as I flexed them at night. The cabinet was thick with dust.
“Are you ready for school?” I asked Noah as he finished the glass of milk. He’s why we stayed here for so long. When he was younger, we were always moving: away from Noah Bennet, away from the FBI, town to town and robbery to robbery. But he was five now, kindergarten age, and we had to at least give him a go at socializing with other kids.
“No,” he said, sullen. Blonde hair from me, moods from his father.
“Why?” I asked.
“I hate Ms. Friedlan,” he said.
“Oh, baby.” I twisted a lock of his hair between my fingers. “What have I told you,” I started to ask but I accidentally sparked him a little, and his hair stood on end. I giggled, and started again. “What have I told you about the importance of going to school?”
“Rekkosense,” he said.
“Reconnaissance,” I corrected. I lived for the day when he would get over his child-lisp. “You have to learn her habits if you want to figure out how to kill her.”
I didn’t have anything against the woman, personally. But a boy’s first victim should really be his choice. Write that down, Dr. Spock.
***
Noah and I were eating dinner by ourselves-TV dinners that had come in a brightly colored box with cartoons on it--when the door opened. Noah put his fork down quickly and changed the subject away from what had been on Nickelodeon that day.
“I found out where she lives,” Noah said, loud enough to be heard from the entranceway.
“Who?” Gabriel asked as he passed the kitchen and stopped in the open door. There was a faint half-moon of red under his fingernails, and he was shiny with sweat, his eyes gleaming with the adrenaline of a new ability. I wondered what it was.
“Ms. Friedlan,” Noah replied.
“Good boy,” Gabriel replied. “And how exactly are you going to go about killing her?”
“Mommy can use her ‘lectric,” he replied.
Gabriel frowned. “No,” he said. “It has to be you.”
We’d talked about this, Gabriel and me, and I agreed. Noah couldn’t lean on us. We were going to do this completely, to raise him to be like us. We wanted our son unafraid and willing to take what should be his and able to protect himself in a world filled with dumb, self-righteous “heroes.” And in order for that to happen he needed to feel the hot pulse of blood under his own hands, know what it was to monstrous and powerful in one single moment.
“I could knock her down,” Noah said. A pedestrian plan, of course. He hadn’t manifested a power yet, a pity.
“A little guy like you?”
Now it was Noah’s turn to frown. “I’m FIVE!” I noticed that he was systematically ripping his napkin into shreds.
“Besides,” Gabriel asked. “Where’s the imagination? Think about what she’s done to you. Think about what you hate about her. And then use that.”
“Daddy could hold her down and then you could do something to her,” I suggested. “How’s that, Training Wheels?”
He pushed himself away from the table
***
I found the drawing in his room. There was more red crayon than any other color.
“This will do,” I said to myself with a smile.
***
“You did excellent, baby,” I said.
The last moan escaped from her throat, and Noah stepped away from her body, his hands covered in wet crimson like he was about to do a sadistic fingerpaint. He had a faint sweat, a look in his eyes that I recognized.
This was the moment, I realized. I had birthed a boy five years before, but this was the moment I’d unleashed the monster of Gabriel’s seed and my womb. Cerberus snapping at the heels of the world, Hydra snake-heads swaying.
“You’re in big time-out,” he said over his late teacher’s body.
“Try not to pose like a comic supervillain,” Gabriel said. Always the job of the father to criticize, I suppose.
As we left, I was certain to leave fingerprints so that Noah could learn the next lesson: that you have to be thorough and have a good escape plan, as well. A good kill is just the first part of ensuring our safe and happy ending.
***
Gabriel moved slick and quick against me as I panted in the darkness.
“Noah was amazing tonight,” he said, all praise in private. “Let’s make another.”
I opened eyes as I lifted my head to kiss him. And that was when I noticed the splash of blue and red on the wallpaper.
“Stop,” I said, and lifted a finger. Gabriel grew still and cocked his head. Sirens getting closer.
“Shit!” he shouted, but he didn’t really feel that way any more than I did: I orgasmed right then at the thought of the chaos we were about to have, blue and red exploding.
He rolled out of bed and pulled on his pants. “I’ll go get Noah.”
I dressed, and went out into the hallway. Noah held onto Gabriel with one hand and rubbed his sleepy eyes with another. Gabriel had a big hand draped protectively over Noah’s little shoulder. I loved that: the same man who haunted the nightmares of every evolved human this side of the Atlantic could still protect his son with the fierce warmness of a lion. “Come on, Elle,” Gabriel said.
“Wait,” I replied, and dashed into the kitchen. The box was sitting on the counter, still perfectly packed, everything in newspaper. I was right to keep everything packed. Our life was portable, but we were free.
end
Rating: R
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing: Elle/Sylar
Warnings: Some sex, not very explicit. Also, a murder.
Recipient: dragynflies
Summary: Noah Grey learns to kill.
Notes: Originally written for winter secret santa @heroes_exchange. Figured I should post it to my own journal.
The prompt: Elle/Sylar -- psycho!Elle please. Raising Noah to be a good little killer, just like Mommy and Daddy.
Noah was drinking chocolate milk-not the kind with Hershey’s Syrup, but the thick, premixed stuff that’s more like melted ice cream than milk. I was washing the dishes from breakfast, internally debating where to put them when I was done. We’d been living in this apartment for four months now, so part of me thought it was crazy to wrap them up in newspaper and put them back in the cardboard box with the sharpie label.
The idea of actually moving into a place, settling down into domesticity, gave me Restless Leg jitters, so bad I could feel electricity sparking between my toes as I flexed them at night. The cabinet was thick with dust.
“Are you ready for school?” I asked Noah as he finished the glass of milk. He’s why we stayed here for so long. When he was younger, we were always moving: away from Noah Bennet, away from the FBI, town to town and robbery to robbery. But he was five now, kindergarten age, and we had to at least give him a go at socializing with other kids.
“No,” he said, sullen. Blonde hair from me, moods from his father.
“Why?” I asked.
“I hate Ms. Friedlan,” he said.
“Oh, baby.” I twisted a lock of his hair between my fingers. “What have I told you,” I started to ask but I accidentally sparked him a little, and his hair stood on end. I giggled, and started again. “What have I told you about the importance of going to school?”
“Rekkosense,” he said.
“Reconnaissance,” I corrected. I lived for the day when he would get over his child-lisp. “You have to learn her habits if you want to figure out how to kill her.”
I didn’t have anything against the woman, personally. But a boy’s first victim should really be his choice. Write that down, Dr. Spock.
***
Noah and I were eating dinner by ourselves-TV dinners that had come in a brightly colored box with cartoons on it--when the door opened. Noah put his fork down quickly and changed the subject away from what had been on Nickelodeon that day.
“I found out where she lives,” Noah said, loud enough to be heard from the entranceway.
“Who?” Gabriel asked as he passed the kitchen and stopped in the open door. There was a faint half-moon of red under his fingernails, and he was shiny with sweat, his eyes gleaming with the adrenaline of a new ability. I wondered what it was.
“Ms. Friedlan,” Noah replied.
“Good boy,” Gabriel replied. “And how exactly are you going to go about killing her?”
“Mommy can use her ‘lectric,” he replied.
Gabriel frowned. “No,” he said. “It has to be you.”
We’d talked about this, Gabriel and me, and I agreed. Noah couldn’t lean on us. We were going to do this completely, to raise him to be like us. We wanted our son unafraid and willing to take what should be his and able to protect himself in a world filled with dumb, self-righteous “heroes.” And in order for that to happen he needed to feel the hot pulse of blood under his own hands, know what it was to monstrous and powerful in one single moment.
“I could knock her down,” Noah said. A pedestrian plan, of course. He hadn’t manifested a power yet, a pity.
“A little guy like you?”
Now it was Noah’s turn to frown. “I’m FIVE!” I noticed that he was systematically ripping his napkin into shreds.
“Besides,” Gabriel asked. “Where’s the imagination? Think about what she’s done to you. Think about what you hate about her. And then use that.”
“Daddy could hold her down and then you could do something to her,” I suggested. “How’s that, Training Wheels?”
He pushed himself away from the table
***
I found the drawing in his room. There was more red crayon than any other color.
“This will do,” I said to myself with a smile.
***
“You did excellent, baby,” I said.
The last moan escaped from her throat, and Noah stepped away from her body, his hands covered in wet crimson like he was about to do a sadistic fingerpaint. He had a faint sweat, a look in his eyes that I recognized.
This was the moment, I realized. I had birthed a boy five years before, but this was the moment I’d unleashed the monster of Gabriel’s seed and my womb. Cerberus snapping at the heels of the world, Hydra snake-heads swaying.
“You’re in big time-out,” he said over his late teacher’s body.
“Try not to pose like a comic supervillain,” Gabriel said. Always the job of the father to criticize, I suppose.
As we left, I was certain to leave fingerprints so that Noah could learn the next lesson: that you have to be thorough and have a good escape plan, as well. A good kill is just the first part of ensuring our safe and happy ending.
***
Gabriel moved slick and quick against me as I panted in the darkness.
“Noah was amazing tonight,” he said, all praise in private. “Let’s make another.”
I opened eyes as I lifted my head to kiss him. And that was when I noticed the splash of blue and red on the wallpaper.
“Stop,” I said, and lifted a finger. Gabriel grew still and cocked his head. Sirens getting closer.
“Shit!” he shouted, but he didn’t really feel that way any more than I did: I orgasmed right then at the thought of the chaos we were about to have, blue and red exploding.
He rolled out of bed and pulled on his pants. “I’ll go get Noah.”
I dressed, and went out into the hallway. Noah held onto Gabriel with one hand and rubbed his sleepy eyes with another. Gabriel had a big hand draped protectively over Noah’s little shoulder. I loved that: the same man who haunted the nightmares of every evolved human this side of the Atlantic could still protect his son with the fierce warmness of a lion. “Come on, Elle,” Gabriel said.
“Wait,” I replied, and dashed into the kitchen. The box was sitting on the counter, still perfectly packed, everything in newspaper. I was right to keep everything packed. Our life was portable, but we were free.
end