Flist Gift #3 - Apocalypse - A Claire/Sylar Fic
Okies this is the 3rd gift for my flist!
It's a Sylaire fic for Tam aka freetheelves2. Merry Christmas Tamara and a Happy New Year!!!
Hope you like:
Title: Apocalypse
Author: force-oblique
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I dont own anything! :P
Characters/Pairings: Claire/Sylar , Claire POV
Word Count: 781
Summary: A AU take on Claire's (*cough*twisted*cough*) view on Sylar.
Author's Notes:I know it's not my best, God, I dont even know if I have a best, but that's not it! lol If you hate it, prompt me to write you another one.
Currently un-betaed so errors may occur!
Xtra Notes:Tam, you had said you wanted fic and perhaps an original one but since you never gave any particulars for that I decided to go with the safe choice which is a Sylar/Claire fic!
Apocalypse
She notices him in the background.
He is always there, lurking, waiting in the shadows, in the darkness that embraces him when he lets go of himself.
He is always there like a stain that never goes away.
Like a tune stuck in her head for so long, that she can’t even remember where she picked it up from.
Sometimes she thinks that maybe it wasn’t picked up on anyways, but that it stems from inside her.
From the darkness within herself. And that thought scares her more than he ever could.
Oh yes, he is always there because he can and because he knows she will always be there.
He is there.
Sometimes even in broad daylight despite the fact that he knows that they are all looking for him.
That they are all after him, in his trail.
Waiting for the first drop of his blood to fall, so they can smell it and track him down.
But still he is there.
She knows he is getting closer. Closer every day. He is growing bolder because she could already have told someone about him but she hasn’t.
Not yet and she is not sure if she ever will, even when it is too late.
No, she hasn’t told on him, so each time he gets closer, he takes a piece of her.
A piece she can never take back, a piece she doesn’t know if she wants back.
Maybe part of her innocence, maybe part of her darkness.
She doesn’t know which.
All she knows is that sometimes she is happy to get rid of it either way and at other times she is happy he is the one taking it.
Innocence lost …
She knows she should feel guilty, but guilt isn’t what makes her cheeks red or her breathing grow shallow at night.
It’s like an addiction, an eternal, inescapable torment she doesn’t want to end.
She wants him to watch her every day and every night.
At nights she feels him so close to her that his breath touches her skin just above her heart beating wildly inside her chest.
And then his lips taste hers in the most assuring, confident way she has ever known. Or is it just a fantasy?
Claire isn’t sure she can make the distinction between reality and fantasy anymore and she knows it’s his doing.
Yet, she keeps her eyes closed.
Truth or reality she doesn’t want to spoil it with vision.
All other senses are perfectly adequate.
Touch, smell, taste and she knows it’s him.
It has to be.
Otherwise, her heart wouldn’t beat so fast, her lips wouldn’t part in anticipation and beads of sweat wouldn’t start trickling down her forehead.
No, she bites back the moans that would escape her lips if she let them.
With her parents downstairs all she can do is whisper.
Whisper his name: "Sylar" and pray that her almost inaudible voice would carry the message to his heart.
A heart she knew he had and was beating for her.
Oh, it is him!
She knows it the moment she feels an invisible hand tightening its grip around her neck and a very real one going under her t-shirt, touching her where no one else has touched her before.
Before him.
She knows she should scream, perhaps he wants her too, it would add to his excitement but she just can’t.
The feelings are too overwhelming, she can’t think straight.
Or rather she can’t think at all!
And maybe its better that way.
All her life she has acted rationally.
Using her reason.
Her father had taught her that and it has been useful.
It had kept her safe till this moment, but somehow she had to let Noah Bennett know that sometimes it’s better if you let your feelings cloud your reason.
Because for once, she could see clearly and she knew what she wanted, what she really wanted without the Company-colored glasses he had forced her to wear.
She had nothing to be afraid of.
Not even Sylar could kill her, nor did he want to.
No, he didn’t want to kill her and all she could do was let out a soft sigh and then kiss the man with the hair as ebony as his heart, hoping he will be set on destroying her, rather than destroying the world, because she knew she could take it.
She could take Sylar and every little game of his, damn she even welcomed it, but the world wasn’t ready for him.
It wasn’t ready for his passion, for the apocalypse that was Sylar.
But she was ready!
God, she had been ready for a very long time…
So bring on the apocalypse....
~ Fin ~
It's a Sylaire fic for Tam aka freetheelves2. Merry Christmas Tamara and a Happy New Year!!!
Hope you like:
Title: Apocalypse
Author: force-oblique
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I dont own anything! :P
Characters/Pairings: Claire/Sylar , Claire POV
Word Count: 781
Summary: A AU take on Claire's (*cough*twisted*cough*) view on Sylar.
Author's Notes:I know it's not my best, God, I dont even know if I have a best, but that's not it! lol If you hate it, prompt me to write you another one.
Currently un-betaed so errors may occur!
Xtra Notes:Tam, you had said you wanted fic and perhaps an original one but since you never gave any particulars for that I decided to go with the safe choice which is a Sylar/Claire fic!
Apocalypse
She notices him in the background.
He is always there, lurking, waiting in the shadows, in the darkness that embraces him when he lets go of himself.
He is always there like a stain that never goes away.
Like a tune stuck in her head for so long, that she can’t even remember where she picked it up from.
Sometimes she thinks that maybe it wasn’t picked up on anyways, but that it stems from inside her.
From the darkness within herself. And that thought scares her more than he ever could.
Oh yes, he is always there because he can and because he knows she will always be there.
He is there.
Sometimes even in broad daylight despite the fact that he knows that they are all looking for him.
That they are all after him, in his trail.
Waiting for the first drop of his blood to fall, so they can smell it and track him down.
But still he is there.
She knows he is getting closer. Closer every day. He is growing bolder because she could already have told someone about him but she hasn’t.
Not yet and she is not sure if she ever will, even when it is too late.
No, she hasn’t told on him, so each time he gets closer, he takes a piece of her.
A piece she can never take back, a piece she doesn’t know if she wants back.
Maybe part of her innocence, maybe part of her darkness.
She doesn’t know which.
All she knows is that sometimes she is happy to get rid of it either way and at other times she is happy he is the one taking it.
Innocence lost …
She knows she should feel guilty, but guilt isn’t what makes her cheeks red or her breathing grow shallow at night.
It’s like an addiction, an eternal, inescapable torment she doesn’t want to end.
She wants him to watch her every day and every night.
At nights she feels him so close to her that his breath touches her skin just above her heart beating wildly inside her chest.
And then his lips taste hers in the most assuring, confident way she has ever known. Or is it just a fantasy?
Claire isn’t sure she can make the distinction between reality and fantasy anymore and she knows it’s his doing.
Yet, she keeps her eyes closed.
Truth or reality she doesn’t want to spoil it with vision.
All other senses are perfectly adequate.
Touch, smell, taste and she knows it’s him.
It has to be.
Otherwise, her heart wouldn’t beat so fast, her lips wouldn’t part in anticipation and beads of sweat wouldn’t start trickling down her forehead.
No, she bites back the moans that would escape her lips if she let them.
With her parents downstairs all she can do is whisper.
Whisper his name: "Sylar" and pray that her almost inaudible voice would carry the message to his heart.
A heart she knew he had and was beating for her.
Oh, it is him!
She knows it the moment she feels an invisible hand tightening its grip around her neck and a very real one going under her t-shirt, touching her where no one else has touched her before.
Before him.
She knows she should scream, perhaps he wants her too, it would add to his excitement but she just can’t.
The feelings are too overwhelming, she can’t think straight.
Or rather she can’t think at all!
And maybe its better that way.
All her life she has acted rationally.
Using her reason.
Her father had taught her that and it has been useful.
It had kept her safe till this moment, but somehow she had to let Noah Bennett know that sometimes it’s better if you let your feelings cloud your reason.
Because for once, she could see clearly and she knew what she wanted, what she really wanted without the Company-colored glasses he had forced her to wear.
She had nothing to be afraid of.
Not even Sylar could kill her, nor did he want to.
No, he didn’t want to kill her and all she could do was let out a soft sigh and then kiss the man with the hair as ebony as his heart, hoping he will be set on destroying her, rather than destroying the world, because she knew she could take it.
She could take Sylar and every little game of his, damn she even welcomed it, but the world wasn’t ready for him.
It wasn’t ready for his passion, for the apocalypse that was Sylar.
But she was ready!
God, she had been ready for a very long time…
So bring on the apocalypse....
~ Fin ~