Mistakes (Cylar Onshot PG-13)
Title: Mistakes
Rating: Upper PG-13
Spoilers: Vague references to Distractions, Run!, Homecoming, and Company Man, I think.
Pairings: Sylar/Claire.
Genre: Dark romance, drama.
Warnings: Some non-con, coersion, some implied underage stuff, and generally twisted things that can be associated with a more IC Cylar relationship. Also an implied character death, if you look hard enough.
Summary: One day Sylar breaks into Claire's house to kill her. Claire argues with him. That was her first mistake. An exploration of Sylar's claim to be following the evolutionary imperitive (That he would need to procreate to advance evolution), and a study into perhaps a darker side of Claire (Claire's POV)
Disclaimer: Not owning Heroes, I have so much more freedom to disturb my readers.
AN: Ah... wow. I was wanting to do something a bit more twisted and characteristic of Sylar lately(because all my writing has been Zanelar) and then right out of the blue, BOOM. And even I'm mildly disturbed.
----
Mistakes
She'd like to say her first mistake was not locking the door, but that wouldn't have stopped a single person she knew, anyway, so that hardly mattered. She couldn't say not running away was a mistake-- she was sick of running, and where could she have gone?
No... her first mistake had to have been asking him why. That had to have been it. Not that it was her only mistake, so it was insignificant in the long run... it had simply been her first. (Or was her first running away from the Company? Running away with Peter? Surviving the fire that should have killed her might have worked as her first damnation.) Whatever it was, her second wasn't pursuing the matter--she couldn't just drop what she'd started after all. No... it was listening to a word he said.
It wasn't a mistake to back away from his advance, nor flinch away from his touch, it was a mistake to threaten him. She'd known that the moment his eyes had darkened... she hadn't needed the harsh tug on her hair, or the violent promises that followed.
Everyone she knew. Everyone she loved. Everyone who she couldn't save, who couldn't protect themselves, who didn't deserve to face his wrath. Not her. She should have turned herself into the Company the moment he had promised to kill them instead of her if she ever said a word. Except then she wouldn't have been there to protect them... that's what she had told herself over and over as she closed her eyes and hid deep inside her mind.
She should have known demanding he preserve her loved ones had been her next mistake when he laughed. A deep, terrifying laugh that sent shivers of fear through her bones. She should have fought him to her death when he leaned in and whispered he would save them all for last.
She thought she was afraid to live, to watch the ones she loved wither and fade away around her. Maybe she was still afraid to die, too. But she had gotten good at lying, and it was easy to tell herself she just wanted to protect them, and smile and say everything was fine when her uncle pulled her aside.
She couldn't fault herself for not moving away to another place (running away again), after all he would just find her again. Maybe he would hurt one of them if she wasn't where he wanted her to be. Her mistake could have been not fighting him hard enough when invisible chains dug into her skin and forced her into a plush comforter (she couldn't bear to burn it, so she tucked it away deep inside the basement and pretended it never existed.).
She thought that her next mistake was probably when she underestimated his sense of hearing (Or was it when her tears slipped free from her grip?). She learned never to do that again. She was a fast learner, and had always learned from her mistakes.
She wished she was not such a coward. Maybe her mistake was still clinging to her bears...maybe that was what kept her the weak-kneed child he called her. She hated the way his sick smile played tricks on her mind when he found them gone.
It was a mistake to panic when she realized the truth. It was a terrible one to go to the small clinic. She'd known that before her mother was rushed into the hospital. She wished she had the courage to stop it forever right then. She was sure she could have, if she tried hard enough. Her mother had always told her that.
She knew better than to try it again the next time. She always learned the first time. No, her next mistake was opening her eyes when he told her to-- leaving her secluded place at his behest. Her next (or was it her last?) mistake could undoubtedbly be awarded to the traitorous intake of air that might have been a gasp.
But it wasn't her fault he spoke her name, couldn't have been a mistake to cushion his fall. Her mistake was not calling foul when he stayed just a while longer, or maybe it was forgetting whose warmth she was claiming as her own.
She'd lost count of how many mistakes she had made by the next time he bruised her mouth and neck. It mattered little anymore how many mistakes she had yet to rectify as she gazed into a clouded mirror, shivering at the thought that he might return again soon.
She cursed the twisting in her stomach when she heard how close the ones she loved had come to cornering him in their trap. She wished she could summon the tears for the twisting of her soul, but he would have roughly brushed them all away anyway, so why should she have bothered? He had tainted her mind and she had allowed it, but she couldn't force herself to say it was a mistake.
She knew it was a mistake to fall asleep thinking he would be there when she woke up. She knew it was a mistake to allow pure words to become tainted in her mind, even when he was not around to hear them. She knew she was a fool to wait in the doorway every night for him...but she was only a child, after all, and children could be afforded their mistakes sometimes.
When they handed her a small shard of life, wrapped in a flimsy woolen blanket, and the form of her friend-who-was-not-really-her-friend gave her hand the slightest of squeezes (so easily dismissable as simply playing the part), she decided that maybe she hadn't made so many mistakes after all.
END
--
AN: Er... o.O Wow. I wasn't even entirely sure where I was going until I got there. Scary, huh?
Rating: Upper PG-13
Spoilers: Vague references to Distractions, Run!, Homecoming, and Company Man, I think.
Pairings: Sylar/Claire.
Genre: Dark romance, drama.
Warnings: Some non-con, coersion, some implied underage stuff, and generally twisted things that can be associated with a more IC Cylar relationship. Also an implied character death, if you look hard enough.
Summary: One day Sylar breaks into Claire's house to kill her. Claire argues with him. That was her first mistake. An exploration of Sylar's claim to be following the evolutionary imperitive (That he would need to procreate to advance evolution), and a study into perhaps a darker side of Claire (Claire's POV)
Disclaimer: Not owning Heroes, I have so much more freedom to disturb my readers.
AN: Ah... wow. I was wanting to do something a bit more twisted and characteristic of Sylar lately(because all my writing has been Zanelar) and then right out of the blue, BOOM. And even I'm mildly disturbed.
----
Mistakes
She'd like to say her first mistake was not locking the door, but that wouldn't have stopped a single person she knew, anyway, so that hardly mattered. She couldn't say not running away was a mistake-- she was sick of running, and where could she have gone?
No... her first mistake had to have been asking him why. That had to have been it. Not that it was her only mistake, so it was insignificant in the long run... it had simply been her first. (Or was her first running away from the Company? Running away with Peter? Surviving the fire that should have killed her might have worked as her first damnation.) Whatever it was, her second wasn't pursuing the matter--she couldn't just drop what she'd started after all. No... it was listening to a word he said.
It wasn't a mistake to back away from his advance, nor flinch away from his touch, it was a mistake to threaten him. She'd known that the moment his eyes had darkened... she hadn't needed the harsh tug on her hair, or the violent promises that followed.
Everyone she knew. Everyone she loved. Everyone who she couldn't save, who couldn't protect themselves, who didn't deserve to face his wrath. Not her. She should have turned herself into the Company the moment he had promised to kill them instead of her if she ever said a word. Except then she wouldn't have been there to protect them... that's what she had told herself over and over as she closed her eyes and hid deep inside her mind.
She should have known demanding he preserve her loved ones had been her next mistake when he laughed. A deep, terrifying laugh that sent shivers of fear through her bones. She should have fought him to her death when he leaned in and whispered he would save them all for last.
She thought she was afraid to live, to watch the ones she loved wither and fade away around her. Maybe she was still afraid to die, too. But she had gotten good at lying, and it was easy to tell herself she just wanted to protect them, and smile and say everything was fine when her uncle pulled her aside.
She couldn't fault herself for not moving away to another place (running away again), after all he would just find her again. Maybe he would hurt one of them if she wasn't where he wanted her to be. Her mistake could have been not fighting him hard enough when invisible chains dug into her skin and forced her into a plush comforter (she couldn't bear to burn it, so she tucked it away deep inside the basement and pretended it never existed.).
She thought that her next mistake was probably when she underestimated his sense of hearing (Or was it when her tears slipped free from her grip?). She learned never to do that again. She was a fast learner, and had always learned from her mistakes.
She wished she was not such a coward. Maybe her mistake was still clinging to her bears...maybe that was what kept her the weak-kneed child he called her. She hated the way his sick smile played tricks on her mind when he found them gone.
It was a mistake to panic when she realized the truth. It was a terrible one to go to the small clinic. She'd known that before her mother was rushed into the hospital. She wished she had the courage to stop it forever right then. She was sure she could have, if she tried hard enough. Her mother had always told her that.
She knew better than to try it again the next time. She always learned the first time. No, her next mistake was opening her eyes when he told her to-- leaving her secluded place at his behest. Her next (or was it her last?) mistake could undoubtedbly be awarded to the traitorous intake of air that might have been a gasp.
But it wasn't her fault he spoke her name, couldn't have been a mistake to cushion his fall. Her mistake was not calling foul when he stayed just a while longer, or maybe it was forgetting whose warmth she was claiming as her own.
She'd lost count of how many mistakes she had made by the next time he bruised her mouth and neck. It mattered little anymore how many mistakes she had yet to rectify as she gazed into a clouded mirror, shivering at the thought that he might return again soon.
She cursed the twisting in her stomach when she heard how close the ones she loved had come to cornering him in their trap. She wished she could summon the tears for the twisting of her soul, but he would have roughly brushed them all away anyway, so why should she have bothered? He had tainted her mind and she had allowed it, but she couldn't force herself to say it was a mistake.
She knew it was a mistake to fall asleep thinking he would be there when she woke up. She knew it was a mistake to allow pure words to become tainted in her mind, even when he was not around to hear them. She knew she was a fool to wait in the doorway every night for him...but she was only a child, after all, and children could be afforded their mistakes sometimes.
When they handed her a small shard of life, wrapped in a flimsy woolen blanket, and the form of her friend-who-was-not-really-her-friend gave her hand the slightest of squeezes (so easily dismissable as simply playing the part), she decided that maybe she hadn't made so many mistakes after all.
END
--
AN: Er... o.O Wow. I wasn't even entirely sure where I was going until I got there. Scary, huh?