heroes_contest drabble #19, NIN song: "Trophies" (Sylar, Samuel)
Title: Trophies
Characters/Paring: amnesiac!Sylar, Samuel
Rating: PG
Word Count: 462
Spoilers/Warnings: Up through 4.05, Tabula Rasa
Summary: Where some people collect the ears of their victims as their trophies over time, he’s collected their abilities.
Disclaimer: I don't own Heroes. :(
A/N: Omg, not Paire! Finally! Written for heroes_contest for the drabble challenge "Nine Inch Nails -- The Collector."
They were all his trophies.
He couldn’t get their pictures out of his head -- bloodied bodies, opened skulls, pale faces that stared at him through vacant eyes and wide, opened mouths caught forever in a silent scream. Every one of them seemed to tell a story, but Sylar -- or Gabriel, or Nathan, or whatever his name was -- couldn’t seem to pick and sort out the pieces he'd managed to grasp.
I’m a killer, he thought, the words echoing hollowly inside his equally hollow mind, his eyes clenching shut as he buried his face into the pillow of his bed. He didn’t feel like a killer. He didn’t feel like a villain. But it was there, in the abilities he possessed and the images he’d been forced to see. Where some people collect the ears of their victims as their trophies over time, he’s collected their abilities.
There was a rattling outside of his room, and Sylar rolled away from the door just as he sensed someone enter. He could feel their stare on his back, studying, wondering. He grunted.
“I’m not a murderer, so if you want to ask me to kill someone else you can forget about it,” he mumbled. There was a pause.
“I’m sorry you had to find out that way,” Samuel said, and Sylar barked out a laugh as he rolled to face him, standing quickly to his feet.
“No you’re not. You’re not sorry at all,” Sylar spat. “You tried to make me kill again!”
Samuel smiled thinly as he leaned against the doorframe, contemplating for a moment before answering, “You’re right. I apologize, you are family now. I shouldn’t be lying to family.” He took a deep breath. “You had to discover the truth, and that was the easiest way for me to do it. We all have our paths to follow, Sylar, and yours has been skewed off track. I was only trying to help you find it again.”
“You know what my path was?” Sylar ground out angrily, motioning frantically with his arm. A lamp fell to the side. “I killed someone for that!” His fingertips crackled with electricity. “And for this. I killed all of those people just so I could have their abilities. Why would you want someone like me here? I could kill you all!”
“But you won’t,” Samuel countered, a knowing, secretive smirk lighting on his face as he pushed himself off of the wall. “Lydia was looking for you earlier. Might want to find her.” He turned to leave.
“What if I don’t want that to be my path anymore?” Sylar asked, and Samuel hesitated for just a moment.
“My brother used to say that you can’t fight your destiny,” he told him simply, and the door fell closed.
Characters/Paring: amnesiac!Sylar, Samuel
Rating: PG
Word Count: 462
Spoilers/Warnings: Up through 4.05, Tabula Rasa
Summary: Where some people collect the ears of their victims as their trophies over time, he’s collected their abilities.
Disclaimer: I don't own Heroes. :(
A/N: Omg, not Paire! Finally! Written for heroes_contest for the drabble challenge "Nine Inch Nails -- The Collector."
They were all his trophies.
He couldn’t get their pictures out of his head -- bloodied bodies, opened skulls, pale faces that stared at him through vacant eyes and wide, opened mouths caught forever in a silent scream. Every one of them seemed to tell a story, but Sylar -- or Gabriel, or Nathan, or whatever his name was -- couldn’t seem to pick and sort out the pieces he'd managed to grasp.
I’m a killer, he thought, the words echoing hollowly inside his equally hollow mind, his eyes clenching shut as he buried his face into the pillow of his bed. He didn’t feel like a killer. He didn’t feel like a villain. But it was there, in the abilities he possessed and the images he’d been forced to see. Where some people collect the ears of their victims as their trophies over time, he’s collected their abilities.
There was a rattling outside of his room, and Sylar rolled away from the door just as he sensed someone enter. He could feel their stare on his back, studying, wondering. He grunted.
“I’m not a murderer, so if you want to ask me to kill someone else you can forget about it,” he mumbled. There was a pause.
“I’m sorry you had to find out that way,” Samuel said, and Sylar barked out a laugh as he rolled to face him, standing quickly to his feet.
“No you’re not. You’re not sorry at all,” Sylar spat. “You tried to make me kill again!”
Samuel smiled thinly as he leaned against the doorframe, contemplating for a moment before answering, “You’re right. I apologize, you are family now. I shouldn’t be lying to family.” He took a deep breath. “You had to discover the truth, and that was the easiest way for me to do it. We all have our paths to follow, Sylar, and yours has been skewed off track. I was only trying to help you find it again.”
“You know what my path was?” Sylar ground out angrily, motioning frantically with his arm. A lamp fell to the side. “I killed someone for that!” His fingertips crackled with electricity. “And for this. I killed all of those people just so I could have their abilities. Why would you want someone like me here? I could kill you all!”
“But you won’t,” Samuel countered, a knowing, secretive smirk lighting on his face as he pushed himself off of the wall. “Lydia was looking for you earlier. Might want to find her.” He turned to leave.
“What if I don’t want that to be my path anymore?” Sylar asked, and Samuel hesitated for just a moment.
“My brother used to say that you can’t fight your destiny,” he told him simply, and the door fell closed.