Confrontation
Title: "Confrontation"
Author: PrettySirenx
Rating: PG-13 (for violence)
Genre: general, angst
Spoilers: Picks up where season 3 left off. Mainly speculation about what we already know.
Disclaimer: I don't own Heroes. *sighs*
A/N: Beta'd by the awesome quicksilvermad. Sequel to "Realization" and "Boyfriend Replacement", which can be found on my page.
Angela Petrelli sat in her office. Her mind was numb from pain, stress, and grief. She couldn’t stop herself from thinking; her last dream had been a nightmare.
There were figures, cloaked in shadow and misunderstanding. They stood in an empty hallway as Nathan crouched down on the floor, blood all over his hands. The dream showed her that it was the blood of the innocent. But she knew better: it was his own blood. He had brought himself to ruin and paid the ultimate price.
He was her boy, her son. And though he was flawed, much like herself, she missed him dearly. She thought about him every day she saw the face that truly belonged to him and she wondered how long the charade could go on. Her dreams had been telling her the time was ending, but she couldn’t accept that.
Noah Bennett stalked into the room, ill intentions seeping from every movement.
“We’ve got to kill him,” he said frankly.
“You know we don’t know how,” Angela scoffed. She knew he was speaking of Sylar and had already guessed what had happened. “Besides, the world needs Nathan.”
“You need Nathan,” said Bennett, his face turning red. “The jig is up. He knows who he really is and there will be hell to pay for the both of us.”
“Parkman,” said Angela, but he held up his hand.
“No,” he said. “We never should’ve done what we did. It was necessary at the time, but it’s over now. It’s over.”
Angela set back in her seat. Maybe it was. Maybe it would be the end of everything this time.
Claire stood up from Peter’s couch and stretched her arms. Tiptoeing to his bedroom, she internally congratulated herself on her skills at playing possum. She carefully opened the door to find him lying face down on the bed. There was a twinge in her gut over her deception, but she ignored it. Peter would get over it and she had a mission.
She didn’t know where she was going or what she was doing, but she was intent on finding out what happened to Nathan. He still wasn’t answering his cell and she was past the point of concerned and heading into the arena that can only be described as determined.
Despite not having a plan, her legs carried her to the Petrelli home. It would make sense, if he was there. And she sincerely hoped he was.
But when she arrived, she found her dad and Angela, arguing in the foyer. Both stood rigidly still as she entered and shut the door behind her.
“What’s going on?” she asked. “Did you find Sylar?”
Before they could answer her question, however, Nathan appeared, exiting the kitchen and nonchalantly taking a bite out of an apple.
Noah and Angela turned around slowly; the looks on their faces conveyed to Claire that, for some reason, their worst fears were being realized.
“No, they didn’t find Sylar,” said Nathan as his face suddenly changed. “Sylar found them.”
Noah took his gun off of its holster and began shooting wildly at Sylar. He didn’t know where the off-switch had been moved to, but he was determined as anything to find it. The bullets had no effect and after one hit his apple, Sylar threw it casually over his shoulder with shrug.
He raised his arms, levitating both Angela and Noah effortlessly in midair. Claire stepped back, not out of fear for herself, but rather out fear for them. Sylar was acting more erratic than usual. It was a scary side of him; she watched on in horror as he spat out two spent bullets and wiped the blood from his mouth with his sleeve.
“Please!” Claire said, trying to keep her voice from shaking. “Don’t. Don’t do this, Sylar. I’m begging you. Don’t hurt them.”
“They hurt me,” said Sylar, tearing his eyes away from his intended victims. “They raped my mind. I killed Nathan, Claire. I would’ve been honest with you sooner about that, but I couldn’t. They had me thinking I was him for the past two months. They used me - again,” he turned his attention back on his intended victims; pure hatred seeping from his aura like a sickness. “It never changes, does it?”
“You killed Nathan?” she asked, her heart pounding in her throat. As upset as she was, her thoughts kept jerking her to her father and grandmother. She rounded on them slowly, as though she were a predator stalking her prey. “And the two of you - you knew? And you let him pretend to be Nathan?”
“They forced me to be Nathan,” said Sylar, tightening his telekinetic hold on them. “I had no choice. I may be a killer, but they took away more than my life - they took away my existence, my Self. They took away the part of me that’s me and for that, they will dearly pay.” His lip curled into a vicious sneer as his attention was turned back onto the task at hand.
Claire was filled with disgust for everyone in that room.
“You’re all monsters,” she said, shaking her head. “I hate that I know any of you.”
She walked in front of Noah and Angela, who were both still suspended in the air. Horror was upon their faces. They were very well aware that they could meet their endings at any moment.
“How could you?” Claire asked, as a tear slid down her cheek. “How could you let me think that I was getting to know Nathan when it was never really him? How could you be so sick as to force the man who killed him to be him? What purpose did it serve?”
“We did it for you,” said Angela, in a rehearsed, monotonous way. It was a variation on a speech she often gave, after all. “And everyone like you. The world needs Nathan Petrelli.”
“If the world needed the dead, we’d live in a world full of zombies,” spat Sylar. “I always thought you were twisted. I thought you were just like me; perhaps it’s why I so readily believed you were my mother. But now I see you’re worse than me in ways I couldn’t imagine.” His tone gradually softened as the sentence ended and his eyes narrowed, as though he were trying to see what made them tick without slicing their heads open, for his own morbid curiosity rather than the hunger.
There was silence for a moment and Sylar glanced at Claire as she stood motionless, processing everything.
“You’ll never begin to understand how much you’ve hurt her,” he said softly, his eyes still lingering on her. “She’ll never recover. She’ll be broken, just like me.”
“I’ll die before I ever hear you compare her to you again,” said Bennett with a snarl, knowing he was completely powerless.
“I know,” said Sylar. And with that, he began to slice Bennett’s neck.
“NO!” Claire shrieked, reaching out her hands in a desperate, frantic attempt to physically stop him from succeeding.
Sylar hesitated. Why didn’t she want him dead? He always used her, just like he used everyone else.
This thought process distracted Sylar from realizing that Peter had just entered. Suddenly, the young man pounced on him, knocking him back and forcing him to release his hold on Noah and Angela. He recovered quickly and a raging battle ensued.
Amidst the heat of the fight, Sylar caught sight of Claire’s eyes. Her world was shattered. She’d sunk down onto the floor in a general disregard for everything and everyone, including herself. Noah and Angela desperately tried to pry her up, but she sat there, blankly watching the scene unfold through leaking eyes.
He couldn’t do it. Something in Sylar’s head snapped. He couldn’t cause her anymore harm that night. With that, he flung Peter across the room and into a mirror and made his way casually to the door.
“It’s getting too crowded in here,” he said simply as he left.
Just like that, he left the battle he so heartily hoped for -- all for a little blonde cheerleader’s feelings. Oh, how he loathed himself.
Author: PrettySirenx
Rating: PG-13 (for violence)
Genre: general, angst
Spoilers: Picks up where season 3 left off. Mainly speculation about what we already know.
Disclaimer: I don't own Heroes. *sighs*
A/N: Beta'd by the awesome quicksilvermad. Sequel to "Realization" and "Boyfriend Replacement", which can be found on my page.
Angela Petrelli sat in her office. Her mind was numb from pain, stress, and grief. She couldn’t stop herself from thinking; her last dream had been a nightmare.
There were figures, cloaked in shadow and misunderstanding. They stood in an empty hallway as Nathan crouched down on the floor, blood all over his hands. The dream showed her that it was the blood of the innocent. But she knew better: it was his own blood. He had brought himself to ruin and paid the ultimate price.
He was her boy, her son. And though he was flawed, much like herself, she missed him dearly. She thought about him every day she saw the face that truly belonged to him and she wondered how long the charade could go on. Her dreams had been telling her the time was ending, but she couldn’t accept that.
Noah Bennett stalked into the room, ill intentions seeping from every movement.
“We’ve got to kill him,” he said frankly.
“You know we don’t know how,” Angela scoffed. She knew he was speaking of Sylar and had already guessed what had happened. “Besides, the world needs Nathan.”
“You need Nathan,” said Bennett, his face turning red. “The jig is up. He knows who he really is and there will be hell to pay for the both of us.”
“Parkman,” said Angela, but he held up his hand.
“No,” he said. “We never should’ve done what we did. It was necessary at the time, but it’s over now. It’s over.”
Angela set back in her seat. Maybe it was. Maybe it would be the end of everything this time.
Claire stood up from Peter’s couch and stretched her arms. Tiptoeing to his bedroom, she internally congratulated herself on her skills at playing possum. She carefully opened the door to find him lying face down on the bed. There was a twinge in her gut over her deception, but she ignored it. Peter would get over it and she had a mission.
She didn’t know where she was going or what she was doing, but she was intent on finding out what happened to Nathan. He still wasn’t answering his cell and she was past the point of concerned and heading into the arena that can only be described as determined.
Despite not having a plan, her legs carried her to the Petrelli home. It would make sense, if he was there. And she sincerely hoped he was.
But when she arrived, she found her dad and Angela, arguing in the foyer. Both stood rigidly still as she entered and shut the door behind her.
“What’s going on?” she asked. “Did you find Sylar?”
Before they could answer her question, however, Nathan appeared, exiting the kitchen and nonchalantly taking a bite out of an apple.
Noah and Angela turned around slowly; the looks on their faces conveyed to Claire that, for some reason, their worst fears were being realized.
“No, they didn’t find Sylar,” said Nathan as his face suddenly changed. “Sylar found them.”
Noah took his gun off of its holster and began shooting wildly at Sylar. He didn’t know where the off-switch had been moved to, but he was determined as anything to find it. The bullets had no effect and after one hit his apple, Sylar threw it casually over his shoulder with shrug.
He raised his arms, levitating both Angela and Noah effortlessly in midair. Claire stepped back, not out of fear for herself, but rather out fear for them. Sylar was acting more erratic than usual. It was a scary side of him; she watched on in horror as he spat out two spent bullets and wiped the blood from his mouth with his sleeve.
“Please!” Claire said, trying to keep her voice from shaking. “Don’t. Don’t do this, Sylar. I’m begging you. Don’t hurt them.”
“They hurt me,” said Sylar, tearing his eyes away from his intended victims. “They raped my mind. I killed Nathan, Claire. I would’ve been honest with you sooner about that, but I couldn’t. They had me thinking I was him for the past two months. They used me - again,” he turned his attention back on his intended victims; pure hatred seeping from his aura like a sickness. “It never changes, does it?”
“You killed Nathan?” she asked, her heart pounding in her throat. As upset as she was, her thoughts kept jerking her to her father and grandmother. She rounded on them slowly, as though she were a predator stalking her prey. “And the two of you - you knew? And you let him pretend to be Nathan?”
“They forced me to be Nathan,” said Sylar, tightening his telekinetic hold on them. “I had no choice. I may be a killer, but they took away more than my life - they took away my existence, my Self. They took away the part of me that’s me and for that, they will dearly pay.” His lip curled into a vicious sneer as his attention was turned back onto the task at hand.
Claire was filled with disgust for everyone in that room.
“You’re all monsters,” she said, shaking her head. “I hate that I know any of you.”
She walked in front of Noah and Angela, who were both still suspended in the air. Horror was upon their faces. They were very well aware that they could meet their endings at any moment.
“How could you?” Claire asked, as a tear slid down her cheek. “How could you let me think that I was getting to know Nathan when it was never really him? How could you be so sick as to force the man who killed him to be him? What purpose did it serve?”
“We did it for you,” said Angela, in a rehearsed, monotonous way. It was a variation on a speech she often gave, after all. “And everyone like you. The world needs Nathan Petrelli.”
“If the world needed the dead, we’d live in a world full of zombies,” spat Sylar. “I always thought you were twisted. I thought you were just like me; perhaps it’s why I so readily believed you were my mother. But now I see you’re worse than me in ways I couldn’t imagine.” His tone gradually softened as the sentence ended and his eyes narrowed, as though he were trying to see what made them tick without slicing their heads open, for his own morbid curiosity rather than the hunger.
There was silence for a moment and Sylar glanced at Claire as she stood motionless, processing everything.
“You’ll never begin to understand how much you’ve hurt her,” he said softly, his eyes still lingering on her. “She’ll never recover. She’ll be broken, just like me.”
“I’ll die before I ever hear you compare her to you again,” said Bennett with a snarl, knowing he was completely powerless.
“I know,” said Sylar. And with that, he began to slice Bennett’s neck.
“NO!” Claire shrieked, reaching out her hands in a desperate, frantic attempt to physically stop him from succeeding.
Sylar hesitated. Why didn’t she want him dead? He always used her, just like he used everyone else.
This thought process distracted Sylar from realizing that Peter had just entered. Suddenly, the young man pounced on him, knocking him back and forcing him to release his hold on Noah and Angela. He recovered quickly and a raging battle ensued.
Amidst the heat of the fight, Sylar caught sight of Claire’s eyes. Her world was shattered. She’d sunk down onto the floor in a general disregard for everything and everyone, including herself. Noah and Angela desperately tried to pry her up, but she sat there, blankly watching the scene unfold through leaking eyes.
He couldn’t do it. Something in Sylar’s head snapped. He couldn’t cause her anymore harm that night. With that, he flung Peter across the room and into a mirror and made his way casually to the door.
“It’s getting too crowded in here,” he said simply as he left.
Just like that, he left the battle he so heartily hoped for -- all for a little blonde cheerleader’s feelings. Oh, how he loathed himself.