Can't Stop The Killer - Sylar/Elle - PG - [1/1]
Title: Can't Stop The Killer
Author: force-oblique
Rating: PG-13 -
Disclaimer: I don't own anything! :P
Characters/Pairings: Sylar/Elle Bishop - Sylar's POV
Spoilers/Warnings: 3x12
Summary: And the smile and the bright blue eyes were enough to dazzle you as you looked at her from below.She found you on your knees literally and figuratively and this is the only excuse you allow yourself when you think of the treachery.
Lyrics: "Can't Stop The Killer" by Emery
Author's Notes:This might suck... a lot!
Dedicated to:
dana-serenity: Thanks for the promps bb, your Dean/Castiel fic is coming up next! :) ilu
superkappa: Your comment was a wake-up call for me! lol I need to start writing Sylar/Elle fics again! lol
Can't Stop The Killer - 1/1
{You'll raise a daughter and she'll raise a son.
You'll live like two people that wish they were one.
She may not be perfect,
But oh my friend neither are you.}
You poor, little misguided boy!
You'd been waiting for years to meet someone like you.
Somebody broken, tainted, afraid.
Someone as scared as you, as unsure of himself as you are.
Somebody you could relate to, but nobody came.
You couldn't even relate to your own mother, even though you tried.
You cared for her, you paid attention when she spoke and you bit your lips when she threw words as sharp as nails at you,and you endured.
You bled on the inside and it felt like this sticky, crimson substance overwhelmed your insides, your lungs, your brain, your heart.
Is there a soul in your chest? Is the chest where it resides?
Because if it is, then you have no soul left.
Blood and revenge has taken it out.
Your soul has fled you, in panic, when the rage emerged from inside of you like a dark wave, like a cloud covering the sun leaving only darkness behind.
Yet she raised you. That woman...
There should have been some connection you were unable to see and after all this time there are still moments at which you find yourself placing blame on you for the way things turned out.
Maybe she was showing signs of love and devotion you failed to see.
Another failure to add in your already long list of regrets.
You had even succumbed to that guilt one time in the past, when you still believed.
When you believed in anything but yourself, though now yourself is the only thing you believe in.
This is where true belief lies, you say, and the sheer remembrance of the suicide you had once attempted is enough to make you cringe.
You are better than most.
That's what you tell yourself and it should have been your motto back then as well.
But you were young and inexperienced and you still were the wolf in sheep's clothing, desperate to shed something.
You thought it was the guilt and the shame, but it was the sheep's clothing instead. And you did shed it...
When she came, blonde and angelic, you thought you were dreaming because never before in your life had anyone given you any attention, had anyone cared.
And the smile and the bright blue eyes were enough to dazzle you as you looked at her from below.
She found you on your knees literally and figuratively and this is the only excuse you allow yourself when you think of the treachery she was responsible for.
{You feel like you're waiting for somebody
to remind you of all the things
that you're supposed to do.
Careful what you reach for, one more step
and you're falling through.}
It felt like you were shaking and you couldn't even tell if it was due to anger or desolation. It's pathetic.
You knew it but for one more time in your life, something proved to be beyond your control.
You are easy to manipulate, Angela pointed out and though her face leaves you untouched, her words sting still.
Sylar, the psychotic killer was a mere puppet in her hands. Gullible and mould-like.
Yet you have sworn never to be like that again.
Trust no one.
That sounds appropriate. Who said TV was just mindless distraction?
But honestly, Gabriel, did you not expect all that?
What in your life ever gave you the idea that you deserved, that you were entitled to expect something better?
Rejection, pain and contempt was what you've been receiving all your life.
Why should "now" be any different?
Why? Because she looked different? Because she didn't come after you with a "hammer" just like everyone else? Ah, but you should have known there are weapons more powerful than guns or swords. Or even your own telekinesis or the hunger you feel gnawing at your insides.
It was hope what gave you away. You had a little left and she took advantage of it.
There was a trickster behind her clear,blue eyes, but as you think back on the moments you spent with her, something inside tells you that it couldn't have been all a lie.
Could it?
She was there when you needed her. She spared you. She saved you from your demise when you wanted to end everything yourself and then she just pushed you into the right direction.
Honestly, maybe you should be grateful.
It didn't suit you being the nice guy.
It didn't suit you going along with everyone else, getting along with everyone else. You were different, unique, special and no matter how she would try to make you feel jealous, beyond everything, you knew you would be the last man standing.
She made you stronger, more decisive, hungrier and though her betrayal tore your heart to pieces, at least it gave you clarity. At least it gave you purpose and focus, for nothing else existed afterwards, other than the hunt, the taking, the rush of making the exact, precise incision on your victim's forehead.
Oh yes, you should thank sweet, little Elle for finally making you realize you could not be anything other than who you had been, whom you already knew in your heart to be. A Killer....
And You Can't Stop The Killer.
{...You can't stop the killer...
In a certain place I've kept my outs,
one for us both, two for my doubts.
I'm shaking.
I'm hollow because I know how to get this done
so I will be the only one to follow,
to follow through with this.}
He always rises, because he is the only true personality inside of you.
In the haze of your head, the confusion, the sorrow and the whole attempt to be good and forgiving and generous, you always knew you could go back.
You could always revert to your old ways. You already knew what you were capable of, you didn't have to experiment to know that because you had done it backwards.
Most people rebel to transcend and do something drastic but you gave it up and tried to remain calm, obedient, conservative, conventional doing almost nothing...
And it didn't bother you because you were safe. If it didn't work out, you could always go back to the beast you were and feel no remorse about it. You were good at that. Detaching yourself from what others called conscience and morality and scruples.
You had no use for them...
{I work my hands right down to the bone
still you don't give me what i want.
You are so ungrateful{,
we're more like a house than a home.}
Yet when you saw Elle again, you felt something. You couldn't name it or place it anywhere else than at the side of fascination, but she was there, you could touch her, smell her, feel her and even taste her and you hadn't had something yours in a long time.
You enjoyed her wild streak, the freedom, the craziness. No consequences.
She was all "want, take, have", just like you once were, but you saw that Elle didn't do it for the abilities, but for the sense of power and control it gave.
And for a few hours, moments you believed. You actually believed that you could make it work. Even without powers or especially without powers.
And there you were. Two people tainted and bruised, but blissful in their newly-found normality.
She became yours that night, but you knew it wouldn't last.
You had never been normal, not you, not her so there was no chance you would stay that way.
But it felt good, for once to not have to live up to anyone's expectations but yours.
It felt as if you were inside a bubble, a bubble you knew was going to burst at any moment but still it was glorious to float and see everything from above, the bubble adding colors to whatever you chose to look at.
You always knew that everything was black, though, didn't you Gabriel?
Or should I say Sylar?
You always knew your true colors.
Or should I say color, because you've always been black?
{I work my hands right down to the bone
still you don't give me what i want.
You are so ungrateful{,
we're more like a house than a home.}
Seeing everything in black and white was your biggest advantage wasn't it?
No moral grey, it was either black or white so there was no doubt, no hesitation.
But if you had so much clarity then why do you miss the colors she made you see?
{In a certain place I've kept my outs,
one for us both, two for my doubts.
I'm shaking.
I'm hollow because I know how to get this done
so I will be the only one to follow,
to follow through with this.}
The blue and yellow and red?
Was it just because they were pretty, she was pretty or was it because you wanted to change, not because of her, but because of you?
You had pushed these thoughts at the back of your head, right? Why are they resurfacing?
Is it because she is gone? Gone by your hand?
{Please dear understand,
I'm sorry again for all that i said.
How could you leave?
I swear that I'll be a better man.
So go ahead and run, run, run
from the man with the gun in his hand.
Darling, I would shoot you before i would ever let you leave.
Oh, dear God.}
Her lies were exposed and with them the travesty, the farse she had played on you.
Was it only because of her betrayal that you murdered her or was it that you just couldn't handle all those colors and feelings inside of you?
Did she let you kill her that easily because she was weak or were you the one who was weak because you couldn't handle doubts and hesitation anymore?
Did all the colors make you blind Gabriel, because all the while you had been able to distinguish only black and white?
Did it hurt your head, did it numb your brain how everything could be inexplicable but still so pretty and meanigful?
Did it matter that love served no purpose in your universe, as it gave you no real, tangible power?
Would the warm feeling of plenitude she filled you with with every touch ever be enough?
I guess not, huh?
Because you killed her after all, with salty water on her hands and sand in her hair.
And you loomed over her and clouded the sun, so that for once she realized that this time there would be no colors. Everything was black and white.
Everything would be black and white for her just like it was for you and then everything would turn into black, into the blackness you sent her to because ....
You can't stop the killer and neither could she, no matter how many colors she made you see.
It was black and would continue to be and maybe a little red too when your finger of doom would slice through flesh and brain matter.
You can't stop the killer...
{You kneel beside her at the foot of her grave.
Your Daughter is crying
and you say she's in a better place.
She was never perfect,
oh, my friend, neither were you.}
~ Fin ~
Comments found Here
Author: force-oblique
Rating: PG-13 -
Disclaimer: I don't own anything! :P
Characters/Pairings: Sylar/Elle Bishop - Sylar's POV
Spoilers/Warnings: 3x12
Summary: And the smile and the bright blue eyes were enough to dazzle you as you looked at her from below.She found you on your knees literally and figuratively and this is the only excuse you allow yourself when you think of the treachery.
Lyrics: "Can't Stop The Killer" by Emery
Author's Notes:This might suck... a lot!
Dedicated to:
dana-serenity: Thanks for the promps bb, your Dean/Castiel fic is coming up next! :) ilu
superkappa: Your comment was a wake-up call for me! lol I need to start writing Sylar/Elle fics again! lol
Can't Stop The Killer - 1/1
{You'll raise a daughter and she'll raise a son.
You'll live like two people that wish they were one.
She may not be perfect,
But oh my friend neither are you.}
You poor, little misguided boy!
You'd been waiting for years to meet someone like you.
Somebody broken, tainted, afraid.
Someone as scared as you, as unsure of himself as you are.
Somebody you could relate to, but nobody came.
You couldn't even relate to your own mother, even though you tried.
You cared for her, you paid attention when she spoke and you bit your lips when she threw words as sharp as nails at you,and you endured.
You bled on the inside and it felt like this sticky, crimson substance overwhelmed your insides, your lungs, your brain, your heart.
Is there a soul in your chest? Is the chest where it resides?
Because if it is, then you have no soul left.
Blood and revenge has taken it out.
Your soul has fled you, in panic, when the rage emerged from inside of you like a dark wave, like a cloud covering the sun leaving only darkness behind.
Yet she raised you. That woman...
There should have been some connection you were unable to see and after all this time there are still moments at which you find yourself placing blame on you for the way things turned out.
Maybe she was showing signs of love and devotion you failed to see.
Another failure to add in your already long list of regrets.
You had even succumbed to that guilt one time in the past, when you still believed.
When you believed in anything but yourself, though now yourself is the only thing you believe in.
This is where true belief lies, you say, and the sheer remembrance of the suicide you had once attempted is enough to make you cringe.
You are better than most.
That's what you tell yourself and it should have been your motto back then as well.
But you were young and inexperienced and you still were the wolf in sheep's clothing, desperate to shed something.
You thought it was the guilt and the shame, but it was the sheep's clothing instead. And you did shed it...
When she came, blonde and angelic, you thought you were dreaming because never before in your life had anyone given you any attention, had anyone cared.
And the smile and the bright blue eyes were enough to dazzle you as you looked at her from below.
She found you on your knees literally and figuratively and this is the only excuse you allow yourself when you think of the treachery she was responsible for.
{You feel like you're waiting for somebody
to remind you of all the things
that you're supposed to do.
Careful what you reach for, one more step
and you're falling through.}
It felt like you were shaking and you couldn't even tell if it was due to anger or desolation. It's pathetic.
You knew it but for one more time in your life, something proved to be beyond your control.
You are easy to manipulate, Angela pointed out and though her face leaves you untouched, her words sting still.
Sylar, the psychotic killer was a mere puppet in her hands. Gullible and mould-like.
Yet you have sworn never to be like that again.
Trust no one.
That sounds appropriate. Who said TV was just mindless distraction?
But honestly, Gabriel, did you not expect all that?
What in your life ever gave you the idea that you deserved, that you were entitled to expect something better?
Rejection, pain and contempt was what you've been receiving all your life.
Why should "now" be any different?
Why? Because she looked different? Because she didn't come after you with a "hammer" just like everyone else? Ah, but you should have known there are weapons more powerful than guns or swords. Or even your own telekinesis or the hunger you feel gnawing at your insides.
It was hope what gave you away. You had a little left and she took advantage of it.
There was a trickster behind her clear,blue eyes, but as you think back on the moments you spent with her, something inside tells you that it couldn't have been all a lie.
Could it?
She was there when you needed her. She spared you. She saved you from your demise when you wanted to end everything yourself and then she just pushed you into the right direction.
Honestly, maybe you should be grateful.
It didn't suit you being the nice guy.
It didn't suit you going along with everyone else, getting along with everyone else. You were different, unique, special and no matter how she would try to make you feel jealous, beyond everything, you knew you would be the last man standing.
She made you stronger, more decisive, hungrier and though her betrayal tore your heart to pieces, at least it gave you clarity. At least it gave you purpose and focus, for nothing else existed afterwards, other than the hunt, the taking, the rush of making the exact, precise incision on your victim's forehead.
Oh yes, you should thank sweet, little Elle for finally making you realize you could not be anything other than who you had been, whom you already knew in your heart to be. A Killer....
And You Can't Stop The Killer.
{...You can't stop the killer...
In a certain place I've kept my outs,
one for us both, two for my doubts.
I'm shaking.
I'm hollow because I know how to get this done
so I will be the only one to follow,
to follow through with this.}
He always rises, because he is the only true personality inside of you.
In the haze of your head, the confusion, the sorrow and the whole attempt to be good and forgiving and generous, you always knew you could go back.
You could always revert to your old ways. You already knew what you were capable of, you didn't have to experiment to know that because you had done it backwards.
Most people rebel to transcend and do something drastic but you gave it up and tried to remain calm, obedient, conservative, conventional doing almost nothing...
And it didn't bother you because you were safe. If it didn't work out, you could always go back to the beast you were and feel no remorse about it. You were good at that. Detaching yourself from what others called conscience and morality and scruples.
You had no use for them...
{I work my hands right down to the bone
still you don't give me what i want.
You are so ungrateful{,
we're more like a house than a home.}
Yet when you saw Elle again, you felt something. You couldn't name it or place it anywhere else than at the side of fascination, but she was there, you could touch her, smell her, feel her and even taste her and you hadn't had something yours in a long time.
You enjoyed her wild streak, the freedom, the craziness. No consequences.
She was all "want, take, have", just like you once were, but you saw that Elle didn't do it for the abilities, but for the sense of power and control it gave.
And for a few hours, moments you believed. You actually believed that you could make it work. Even without powers or especially without powers.
And there you were. Two people tainted and bruised, but blissful in their newly-found normality.
She became yours that night, but you knew it wouldn't last.
You had never been normal, not you, not her so there was no chance you would stay that way.
But it felt good, for once to not have to live up to anyone's expectations but yours.
It felt as if you were inside a bubble, a bubble you knew was going to burst at any moment but still it was glorious to float and see everything from above, the bubble adding colors to whatever you chose to look at.
You always knew that everything was black, though, didn't you Gabriel?
Or should I say Sylar?
You always knew your true colors.
Or should I say color, because you've always been black?
{I work my hands right down to the bone
still you don't give me what i want.
You are so ungrateful{,
we're more like a house than a home.}
Seeing everything in black and white was your biggest advantage wasn't it?
No moral grey, it was either black or white so there was no doubt, no hesitation.
But if you had so much clarity then why do you miss the colors she made you see?
{In a certain place I've kept my outs,
one for us both, two for my doubts.
I'm shaking.
I'm hollow because I know how to get this done
so I will be the only one to follow,
to follow through with this.}
The blue and yellow and red?
Was it just because they were pretty, she was pretty or was it because you wanted to change, not because of her, but because of you?
You had pushed these thoughts at the back of your head, right? Why are they resurfacing?
Is it because she is gone? Gone by your hand?
{Please dear understand,
I'm sorry again for all that i said.
How could you leave?
I swear that I'll be a better man.
So go ahead and run, run, run
from the man with the gun in his hand.
Darling, I would shoot you before i would ever let you leave.
Oh, dear God.}
Her lies were exposed and with them the travesty, the farse she had played on you.
Was it only because of her betrayal that you murdered her or was it that you just couldn't handle all those colors and feelings inside of you?
Did she let you kill her that easily because she was weak or were you the one who was weak because you couldn't handle doubts and hesitation anymore?
Did all the colors make you blind Gabriel, because all the while you had been able to distinguish only black and white?
Did it hurt your head, did it numb your brain how everything could be inexplicable but still so pretty and meanigful?
Did it matter that love served no purpose in your universe, as it gave you no real, tangible power?
Would the warm feeling of plenitude she filled you with with every touch ever be enough?
I guess not, huh?
Because you killed her after all, with salty water on her hands and sand in her hair.
And you loomed over her and clouded the sun, so that for once she realized that this time there would be no colors. Everything was black and white.
Everything would be black and white for her just like it was for you and then everything would turn into black, into the blackness you sent her to because ....
You can't stop the killer and neither could she, no matter how many colors she made you see.
It was black and would continue to be and maybe a little red too when your finger of doom would slice through flesh and brain matter.
You can't stop the killer...
{You kneel beside her at the foot of her grave.
Your Daughter is crying
and you say she's in a better place.
She was never perfect,
oh, my friend, neither were you.}
~ Fin ~
Comments found Here