A/N: I got this idea from well, all the episodes involving Sylar and Maya. I have the belief that he has a crush and her..you know what? I'm blathering like an idiot. Just read and review.I'm thinking of expand it. Let me know if I should.
1, 987 miles, I tell myself. 1, 987 miles until we get to New York. 1, 987 miles until Maya gets whatever help she needs. 1,987 miles until I figure out what's wrong with me. 1, 987 miles until I take her and her brother's powers.
I look at Maya who is staring at the road with such intensity; I worry that her power it's going to activate again. She bites her lip nervously. She is afraid. So am I.
I'm afraid I'll never get to have my powers back and hopefully Mohinder will help if he doesn't see through my façade. I'm afraid I'll never get to use such a fantastic power as hers. I look at Maya and she smiles at me. I look at Alejandro who is also staring at the road which great intensity.
I think he's looking at me though, trying to conjure up a power that will give me a long, painful, horrifying death. Maya notices this.
"Don't worry about him," she assures me through her accent. "He is just being…" She searches for a word. "Overprotective?" I suggest. She nods. "He is my brother after all, even if I am the older one." She says some things to Alejandro in Spanish, probably trying to reassure him that I am a good person, I am their angel, blah, blah, blah.
Honestly, that gets old pretty quick.
But it's nice, I'll admit. Maya's walking straight into the witch's cottage and believes I am her great shining knight in the armor, etc.
She'd make a lovely princess, no doubt.
Did I just think that?
No. Yes. I look at her again, fear rising. I did not just think of her as attractive. Her black hair falls in waves against her warm, chocolate skin. I want to touch her, caress her, and maybe kiss her.
I did not just think that. Did I?
No, I chide myself. That's wrong. Maya is your toy, not your…Friend? A part of my brain challenges me. A crush, perhaps? It mocks me. I shake that thought. Crushes are for pimply faced teenagers with their hormones raging who mumble incoherent things to girls. Crushes are for socially awkward teenage girls with their little pigtails bouncing as they giggle and turn red when boys talk to them. Crushes are not for Gabriel Gray.
Oh, so we're Gabriel Grey now? I thought we were Sylar.
I sneak a peek at Maya. My eyes drift to her dark green tank top and to her jeans. She's still pretty but I bet she's a knockout in bright colors.
Look at me, with all this fantasies on how Maya would be as a damsel in distress sort of princess, how'd she look in bright colors, how'd she look in a wedding gown—
Whoa, whoa, whoa. Did I just think how'd she look in a wedding gown?
My brain is making fun of me but I let myself escape into a fantasy where some way, somehow, we're standing at the altar with Maya is standing in an elaborate white gown. I don't really see who's there but I know Alejandro has a sort of disgruntled yet approving look on his face. I look back at Maya who is smiling with her teeth showing, matching the white dress. I lift her fail and hold her face, lean in and—
What? Kiss her? Marry her? Live happily ever after?
I settle for brushing some stray strands out of her face. She smiles at me again, her gleaming teeth contrast next to her skin. She focuses on the road and continues to drive. Eventually we reach an all night diner. Alejandro finds some cash in the glove compartment. Apparently, Derek (the guy whose car we basically stole) was loaded.
Alejandro mumbles in Spanish he has to go to the bathroom but Maya and I sit down and order something. I see there are a couple of Mexican cowboys sipping black coffee and a tired looking family. Maybe Hispanic or white, it's hard to tell; the diner's pretty dim. A waitress brings us coffees.
"Travelin'?" she asks. I nod. "Visiting an old friend in New York."
"You guys from around here?" she asks. I shake my head. "We were in Mexico for—"
"Our wedding," interrupts Maya, her eyes sparkling. She's lying but the waitress doesn't notice. "I hope you two have a happy marriage or whatever you're supposed to say to newlyweds," says the waitress and she leaves our table.
I glance at the newspapers someone left and scour it for any mentions of Maya or her brother. The bets choice seems one in Spanish and I scan it for our names. I see a mention of the officer and I'm pretty sure muerte means dead. And I'm also sure that they mean the Maya Herrera in there is the same one sitting next to me. Maya notices the newspaper and the small article.
"Don't worry," she murmurs, holding my hand. "Gabriel."
I love how she says my name. She says it in a way it sounds like music. Gabriel.
Oh, I'm getting mushy.
She continues speaking, "We will find Dr. Suresh and he will know everything."
I wonder if Mohinder knows how to tell someone you are hopelessly in love with them but you also want to kill them in order to get their powers.
I should ask him that before I kill him.
Eventually, we ate something for the road and Alejandro offered to take over the driving. I'm not too comfortable with the idea of being in choking range of Alejandro. It's not because I'd get to sit with Maya, really. It's just not. I go into the backseat with Maya who promptly falls asleep, leaning her head against my shoulder. I try to ignore the heat in my cheeks and bite my lip. Alejandro casts me a dirty look, daring me to try something.
I sigh and hope my next few thoughts will help me get through our car ride.
1, 987 miles, 1,987 miles, 1,987 miles...