Fanfiction: Heroes: If There's No One Beside You When Your Soul Embarks
Title: If There’s No One Beside You When Your Soul Embarks
Author: superkappa
Prompt: But don't you see? Fear has brought us together. That's the magic of Xmas.
-Fry from Futurama for sylelle_chall
Characters/Pairing: Sylar/ Elle
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Takes place in the Virus future Peter visits during Season 2. Elle is dying and it’s Christmas Eve and she doesn’t want to die alone. So she tracks down Sylar.
A/N: I can’t even really explain where the idea for this fic came from, but it kind of just dug itself in my brain and wouldn’t leave, so there we go. It’s a little strange. Beta’d by the fantabulous dragynflies. Also using this for the "Christmas" prompt at 100heroesfics
Elle can’t explain why she decided to track him down, of all people. She doubts he wants to see her, not after what she did to him, to Gabriel. But she has nowhere to go. Adam killed her father and the rest of the Company. The virus is continuing to spread and contaminate people every day, herself included. She’s dying. She doesn’t want to die alone. The fact that its Christmas Eve only makes her feel that much lonelier. Not that her father ever did much to celebrate the holidays, but still.
She’s tried finding Bennet and the cheerleader, but Bennet is dead and the cheerleader…well, who knows where the cheerleader has gone. And even though she had betrayed him, she had cared about Gabriel, about Sylar. So she’s standing here, at the abandoned hotel Sylar is staying in, holding her breath as she knocks on the door. He might kill her as soon as he sees her, she knows there’s that risk, but it beats dying alone. That’s what really scares Elle, dying by herself. No one knowing or caring that she’s dead. And it’s that fear more than anything else that’s helped her seek him out in the first place. They’ve both avoided being quarantined one way or another, so that has to mean something, right?
Finally, he opens the door, his expression darkening as he looks over her. “What are you doing here?” He hisses out. He looks pale and sicklier then when she last saw him. Apparently, even though he cured the strain of the Virus he had before, he was not immune to this new strain that’s become wide spread thanks to Adam and his stupid plans.
“I don’t want to spend Christmas alone,” She answers, her whole body wracked with shivers. It’s cold outside, but she knows it’s more than that. She doesn’t have much longer. She doesn’t want to die alone. Who does?
“So you thought to come visit the man you betrayed? Of all people? What makes you think I want to spend the day with a liar like you?” He bit out in anger. He can’t remember the last time he’s actually talked to another person. He’s given up trying to find a cure, to getting his powers back this time. There is no cure, and he’s too tired and ill to carry on like he did in Mexico. He’s been waiting to die, and here she is, like an angel all over again. Only this time she seems more like the angel of death than anything else.
“Because there isn’t much selection these days?” She asks with a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders. “Do you really want to be alone?”
He stands a little more stiffly at her question, as if she’s challenging him somehow. “Maybe I want to be alone.”
She laughs softly. “You aren’t that good of a liar, Gabriel.”
He growls in response. “My name is Syla-“
“You’re powerless now, aren’t you? So am I. It’s just Elle and Gabriel. No Company, no powers, no parents, just us.”
He hesitates for a moment before stepping aside to let her in. He tells himself that it doesn’t mean anything; he’s just doing it because he’s lonely. He’s tired of playing chess games against himself. It has nothing to do with it being her of all people. Nothing.
-
They sit on the floor of the room, eating bowls of soup. All he has left is canned, condensed food and it’s hardly a Christmas feast, but it’s better than nothing. These days, one has to take what they can get when it comes to food.
“So, what was the best present you ever got for Christmas?” Elle asks with a grin, breaking the silence that had spilled over them. She’s never been able to stand silence for long.
Sylar rolls his eyes. He still can’t quite believe he’s sitting on the floor, eating another meal with her. Except this isn’t peach pie and he’s not Gabriel anymore, despite her insistence that he is. Things are different now. He’s not noticing things like how cute she looks when she licks a little sauce from the corner of her lips. They’re just two people with no place else to go. That’s all.
After a moment or two of thinking, he finally responds. “A long time ago, my father gave me an antique watch. It was broken, but beautiful.” Kind of like her. But he doesn’t say that.
Elle just wrinkles her nose a little at that. “Your best present ever was a broken watch? Did your parents just suck at gift giving or what?”
Another roll of his eyes. “It was a challenge. It took me six years to fix that watch. It was one of my most prized possessions.”
She snorts a little. “Whatever you say. It still sounds way lame to me.”
“So, what was yours then?” He asks, changing the question now.
Her playful grin breaks, and she pauses in thought. “Bennet gave me a doll once.”
It was his turn to snort now. “A doll, that’s it? And you’re saying my present was lame?”
Elle purses her lips. She doesn’t want to mention that it was the only Christmas present that she had ever received. Or that her father had taken it away from her a day later, telling her that she needed to focus on important things, not toys. Instead, she changes the subject again.
“So, how long do you have?”
Sylar raises a brow. “Until what?”
“Until you die. Duh..” She says it like he should have known better.
“I don’t know. Days, months, hours, things have started to blur together. It doesn’t matter.”
Something sits with her wrong, that almost tone of defeat in his voice. Elle edges closer to him. “Why doesn’t it matter?”
“There’s no one left here to remember me,” He bites out bitterly. “I’ll be just as insignificant as I was the day I was born.” For all he had tried to make himself into something special, it didn’t matter now. If only he had been able to blow up New York instead of Peter being the one to explode. At least then he would have made his mark. It’s too late now for that.
“Well, if you die first, I’ll remember you,” Elle murmurs softly. And before he can say anything else in response, she’s leaning over and pressing her lips against his.
Sylar’s surprised for a moment before he groans into her mouth, grabbing her hips and pulling her closer to him. It’s not that he wants her in particular, but hell, he could die any day now. This might be his last chance to get laid. He’d be stupid to give that up, wouldn’t he?
And he likes to think that with everything else’s he’s lost, his intelligence is still there. When he pushes his tongue past her lips, listening to her mewling gasp, it has nothing to do with old fantasies and desires. She’s just filling a purpose.
This isn’t about love or desire, it’s about loneliness. They both just need someone, and the other’s convenient.
Elle wastes no time, climbing into his lap and unbuttoning his pants. She grabs him firmly and strokes him to full arousal. Her lips taste like desperation and sadness but he kisses them all the same.
Soon enough he’s lifting her off of his lap and carrying her over to the old, decaying mattress he sleeps on. It’s not great, but it’ll have to do. He lies her down, climbing on top of her, his erection pressing against her thigh as he hastily pushes up her skirt and pulls down her panties.
Elle grasps his hair roughly, moaning into his mouth as his fingers brush against her wetness. She wriggles underneath him, quite suddenly impatient. It’s been long, too long since anyone’s touched her like this or at all, really. Since anyone’s needed her. And maybe it’s just a physical desire, but he still wants her, and for now, that’s enough. She has to take what she can get, these days.
Sylar pushes her shirt up, and something stirs inside of him, almost like nostalgia. He remembers wanting to make love to her in his bedroom back in Queens. It seems like another life now, but here he was, finally having her. He undoes her bra quickly and tosses it aside. He leans in, biting her nipple a little roughly. But she moans and arches into his mouth, so that means she likes it.
“Put it in me already,” Elle whines impatiently, pushing herself up so that her core rubbed against his manhood. “I’m going to die in the time it takes you to do it.”
“I guess I better do it quick then,” He countered with a bit of a smirk, positioning himself at her entrance now. “I’d hate to have to fuck a corpse. I’m many things, but not a necrophiliac.”
A devilish smirk spreads across Elle’s lips. “So it’s okay to be a cannibal, but not to fuck dead people?” She leans in, playfully biting his lower lip. “Good to know where the moral line is crossed.”
He rolls his eyes. “I didn’t eat the brains. And I just fuck dying girls, not dead ones,” And without another word, he thrusts inside of her, gasping.
She hisses out a moan as he slides inside. He’s big and she’s out of practice, but it feels right, somehow. Her legs wrap around his torso, pulling him closer to her now. She wants, needs more. Make the connection stronger.
He bites and nips at her lips as he begins to build up a rhythm, moving in and out of her like clockwork. He feels as desperate as she tastes and for the first time Sylar wonders if she was right about him still being Gabriel in the end. If that’s even possible. He’s not sure of anything anymore.
Elle breaks away from the kiss, grabbing his hand and guiding it to her clit. She shows him just where she likes to be touched. “Say it,” She whispers softly.
“Say what?” He asks in a breathless voice, pushing down into her once more. His fingers circle her clit, mimicking the motions she had just showed him.
Her back arches again, and when she speaks, her voice sounds almost vulnerable. “If I die first, you’ll remember me, you’ll miss me.” Because she needs to hear it. She needs to hear that someone would give a shit if she was gone, even if it’s not true.
“I’ll miss you,” He whispers, and as he says the words, as he hits that spot she seems to like best, he knows what he’s saying is true. He will miss her. Despite everything, despite what she’s done to him, what she turned him into, he’ll miss her. What does that say about him?
And with those words she pushes up from the bed, her body curving as Elle comes almost violently. Sylar followed suit, holding her close as the sensations began to wear down. It doesn’t take long for the two to fall asleep, exhausted from the exertion.
-
The next morning, Elle stirs first, the sunlight hitting her eyes. Years of Company training have made her a morning person, even if the Company hasn’t existed in years now. She looks down at Sylar’s sleeping form, and brushes away some of his hair from his face.
They’re only buying time together, she knows this. Any day now, the virus is going to claim one of them in death, but for now, they have each other. Sure, fear had drawn her to him more than anything else, but that doesn’t matter. Not now.
He wants her. He’ll miss her when she’s dead and gone, if he doesn’t die first. And she’s pretty sure that’s the best Christmas present anyone could have given her.
It even beats that stupid doll Bennet gave her.
Author: superkappa
Prompt: But don't you see? Fear has brought us together. That's the magic of Xmas.
-Fry from Futurama for sylelle_chall
Characters/Pairing: Sylar/ Elle
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Takes place in the Virus future Peter visits during Season 2. Elle is dying and it’s Christmas Eve and she doesn’t want to die alone. So she tracks down Sylar.
A/N: I can’t even really explain where the idea for this fic came from, but it kind of just dug itself in my brain and wouldn’t leave, so there we go. It’s a little strange. Beta’d by the fantabulous dragynflies. Also using this for the "Christmas" prompt at 100heroesfics
Elle can’t explain why she decided to track him down, of all people. She doubts he wants to see her, not after what she did to him, to Gabriel. But she has nowhere to go. Adam killed her father and the rest of the Company. The virus is continuing to spread and contaminate people every day, herself included. She’s dying. She doesn’t want to die alone. The fact that its Christmas Eve only makes her feel that much lonelier. Not that her father ever did much to celebrate the holidays, but still.
She’s tried finding Bennet and the cheerleader, but Bennet is dead and the cheerleader…well, who knows where the cheerleader has gone. And even though she had betrayed him, she had cared about Gabriel, about Sylar. So she’s standing here, at the abandoned hotel Sylar is staying in, holding her breath as she knocks on the door. He might kill her as soon as he sees her, she knows there’s that risk, but it beats dying alone. That’s what really scares Elle, dying by herself. No one knowing or caring that she’s dead. And it’s that fear more than anything else that’s helped her seek him out in the first place. They’ve both avoided being quarantined one way or another, so that has to mean something, right?
Finally, he opens the door, his expression darkening as he looks over her. “What are you doing here?” He hisses out. He looks pale and sicklier then when she last saw him. Apparently, even though he cured the strain of the Virus he had before, he was not immune to this new strain that’s become wide spread thanks to Adam and his stupid plans.
“I don’t want to spend Christmas alone,” She answers, her whole body wracked with shivers. It’s cold outside, but she knows it’s more than that. She doesn’t have much longer. She doesn’t want to die alone. Who does?
“So you thought to come visit the man you betrayed? Of all people? What makes you think I want to spend the day with a liar like you?” He bit out in anger. He can’t remember the last time he’s actually talked to another person. He’s given up trying to find a cure, to getting his powers back this time. There is no cure, and he’s too tired and ill to carry on like he did in Mexico. He’s been waiting to die, and here she is, like an angel all over again. Only this time she seems more like the angel of death than anything else.
“Because there isn’t much selection these days?” She asks with a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders. “Do you really want to be alone?”
He stands a little more stiffly at her question, as if she’s challenging him somehow. “Maybe I want to be alone.”
She laughs softly. “You aren’t that good of a liar, Gabriel.”
He growls in response. “My name is Syla-“
“You’re powerless now, aren’t you? So am I. It’s just Elle and Gabriel. No Company, no powers, no parents, just us.”
He hesitates for a moment before stepping aside to let her in. He tells himself that it doesn’t mean anything; he’s just doing it because he’s lonely. He’s tired of playing chess games against himself. It has nothing to do with it being her of all people. Nothing.
-
They sit on the floor of the room, eating bowls of soup. All he has left is canned, condensed food and it’s hardly a Christmas feast, but it’s better than nothing. These days, one has to take what they can get when it comes to food.
“So, what was the best present you ever got for Christmas?” Elle asks with a grin, breaking the silence that had spilled over them. She’s never been able to stand silence for long.
Sylar rolls his eyes. He still can’t quite believe he’s sitting on the floor, eating another meal with her. Except this isn’t peach pie and he’s not Gabriel anymore, despite her insistence that he is. Things are different now. He’s not noticing things like how cute she looks when she licks a little sauce from the corner of her lips. They’re just two people with no place else to go. That’s all.
After a moment or two of thinking, he finally responds. “A long time ago, my father gave me an antique watch. It was broken, but beautiful.” Kind of like her. But he doesn’t say that.
Elle just wrinkles her nose a little at that. “Your best present ever was a broken watch? Did your parents just suck at gift giving or what?”
Another roll of his eyes. “It was a challenge. It took me six years to fix that watch. It was one of my most prized possessions.”
She snorts a little. “Whatever you say. It still sounds way lame to me.”
“So, what was yours then?” He asks, changing the question now.
Her playful grin breaks, and she pauses in thought. “Bennet gave me a doll once.”
It was his turn to snort now. “A doll, that’s it? And you’re saying my present was lame?”
Elle purses her lips. She doesn’t want to mention that it was the only Christmas present that she had ever received. Or that her father had taken it away from her a day later, telling her that she needed to focus on important things, not toys. Instead, she changes the subject again.
“So, how long do you have?”
Sylar raises a brow. “Until what?”
“Until you die. Duh..” She says it like he should have known better.
“I don’t know. Days, months, hours, things have started to blur together. It doesn’t matter.”
Something sits with her wrong, that almost tone of defeat in his voice. Elle edges closer to him. “Why doesn’t it matter?”
“There’s no one left here to remember me,” He bites out bitterly. “I’ll be just as insignificant as I was the day I was born.” For all he had tried to make himself into something special, it didn’t matter now. If only he had been able to blow up New York instead of Peter being the one to explode. At least then he would have made his mark. It’s too late now for that.
“Well, if you die first, I’ll remember you,” Elle murmurs softly. And before he can say anything else in response, she’s leaning over and pressing her lips against his.
Sylar’s surprised for a moment before he groans into her mouth, grabbing her hips and pulling her closer to him. It’s not that he wants her in particular, but hell, he could die any day now. This might be his last chance to get laid. He’d be stupid to give that up, wouldn’t he?
And he likes to think that with everything else’s he’s lost, his intelligence is still there. When he pushes his tongue past her lips, listening to her mewling gasp, it has nothing to do with old fantasies and desires. She’s just filling a purpose.
This isn’t about love or desire, it’s about loneliness. They both just need someone, and the other’s convenient.
Elle wastes no time, climbing into his lap and unbuttoning his pants. She grabs him firmly and strokes him to full arousal. Her lips taste like desperation and sadness but he kisses them all the same.
Soon enough he’s lifting her off of his lap and carrying her over to the old, decaying mattress he sleeps on. It’s not great, but it’ll have to do. He lies her down, climbing on top of her, his erection pressing against her thigh as he hastily pushes up her skirt and pulls down her panties.
Elle grasps his hair roughly, moaning into his mouth as his fingers brush against her wetness. She wriggles underneath him, quite suddenly impatient. It’s been long, too long since anyone’s touched her like this or at all, really. Since anyone’s needed her. And maybe it’s just a physical desire, but he still wants her, and for now, that’s enough. She has to take what she can get, these days.
Sylar pushes her shirt up, and something stirs inside of him, almost like nostalgia. He remembers wanting to make love to her in his bedroom back in Queens. It seems like another life now, but here he was, finally having her. He undoes her bra quickly and tosses it aside. He leans in, biting her nipple a little roughly. But she moans and arches into his mouth, so that means she likes it.
“Put it in me already,” Elle whines impatiently, pushing herself up so that her core rubbed against his manhood. “I’m going to die in the time it takes you to do it.”
“I guess I better do it quick then,” He countered with a bit of a smirk, positioning himself at her entrance now. “I’d hate to have to fuck a corpse. I’m many things, but not a necrophiliac.”
A devilish smirk spreads across Elle’s lips. “So it’s okay to be a cannibal, but not to fuck dead people?” She leans in, playfully biting his lower lip. “Good to know where the moral line is crossed.”
He rolls his eyes. “I didn’t eat the brains. And I just fuck dying girls, not dead ones,” And without another word, he thrusts inside of her, gasping.
She hisses out a moan as he slides inside. He’s big and she’s out of practice, but it feels right, somehow. Her legs wrap around his torso, pulling him closer to her now. She wants, needs more. Make the connection stronger.
He bites and nips at her lips as he begins to build up a rhythm, moving in and out of her like clockwork. He feels as desperate as she tastes and for the first time Sylar wonders if she was right about him still being Gabriel in the end. If that’s even possible. He’s not sure of anything anymore.
Elle breaks away from the kiss, grabbing his hand and guiding it to her clit. She shows him just where she likes to be touched. “Say it,” She whispers softly.
“Say what?” He asks in a breathless voice, pushing down into her once more. His fingers circle her clit, mimicking the motions she had just showed him.
Her back arches again, and when she speaks, her voice sounds almost vulnerable. “If I die first, you’ll remember me, you’ll miss me.” Because she needs to hear it. She needs to hear that someone would give a shit if she was gone, even if it’s not true.
“I’ll miss you,” He whispers, and as he says the words, as he hits that spot she seems to like best, he knows what he’s saying is true. He will miss her. Despite everything, despite what she’s done to him, what she turned him into, he’ll miss her. What does that say about him?
And with those words she pushes up from the bed, her body curving as Elle comes almost violently. Sylar followed suit, holding her close as the sensations began to wear down. It doesn’t take long for the two to fall asleep, exhausted from the exertion.
-
The next morning, Elle stirs first, the sunlight hitting her eyes. Years of Company training have made her a morning person, even if the Company hasn’t existed in years now. She looks down at Sylar’s sleeping form, and brushes away some of his hair from his face.
They’re only buying time together, she knows this. Any day now, the virus is going to claim one of them in death, but for now, they have each other. Sure, fear had drawn her to him more than anything else, but that doesn’t matter. Not now.
He wants her. He’ll miss her when she’s dead and gone, if he doesn’t die first. And she’s pretty sure that’s the best Christmas present anyone could have given her.
It even beats that stupid doll Bennet gave her.