Title: The Thief
Characters: Sylar, Elle, (with mentions of Claire, Eden, and Dr. Suresh)
Chapter: Chapter 1
Summary: The first time he stole her words. Took them right from her mouth and kept them for himself. It didn't satisfy his hunger (desire) for her but he contented himself with it for now.
Author's Notes: AU for 3x07 Eris Quod Sum. This is my first Sylar/Elle fic so I am a little nervous. This takes place after Elle gets fired from the company. Please read and review!
Regardless of the labels placed on him (murderer, psychopath, freak); he was, for lack of a better word, a thief. A thief who took what he wanted from others, indifferent to the people he hurt (Eden, Claire, Suresh) and the consequences of his actions (death). He cared not for those things and he probably never would. He, like any thief, would continue to steal, pilfer, and ravage people's minds and souls until the day he died. It was an urge (hunger) that beckoned him to take, a flare of power, a shock of adrenaline, a flash of release; it called to him like a siren's song and he was helpless to stop himself.
When he first saw her (her and her power) he wanted her (more than he has wanted a lot of things). But she was different (crazy, sadistic, broken) and he knew he couldn't just kill her, he knew he had to take more from her than just her beautiful, wonderful power. He knew he had to take everything from her.
The first time he came to her, she was angry (scared, lonely, frightened). She cursed his name, shocked his body, and killed him over and over again. Eventually though, her body (her will) gave out against the pain and she collapsed in a heap of exhaustion on the motel floor. His powers did their job and he was on his feet before she even had a chance to catch her breath. Avoiding her glare, he took in the room he found himself in; an old, run-down motel that undoubtedly charged by the hour. The peeling paint, paper thing walls, and odor of desperation that surrounded him made a little charge of pity (sympathy) go through his body.
She was still on the ground breathing heavily, electric blue eyes dark and glittering with defiance (anger, maybe even enjoyment?) She set her jaw tight as she pulled her body up; her hands warming once again with blue sparks, the sight sent a jolt of trepidation (excitement) down his spine. He warned her against any more shocking surprises ("I wouldn't try that if I were you. I have been playing nice so far but I wouldn't want to test my patience, anymore than you already have"). She didn't heed his warning and his entire body went ridged as the lightning coursed through his veins. But he wasn't in the mood to play anymore and, ignoring the pain, he threw her bodily across the room and slammed her into the crumbling walls. ("I warned you")
She struggled and strained against her invisible bonds. She yelled and screamed (I hate you, what do you want, I'll kill you). She never stopped her cries of anger and boiling hatred, yet her eyes never left his. Not once. A warm tingling sensation filled him, called to him, told him to finish what he started and take away the only thing she had left. Everything was perfect; the fear in her eyes and the desire pumping through his body. But he made no move to begin, he simply held her there and let the feeling of anticipation roll over him.
When the feeling faded out, he refocused his vision on her confused and desperate face. ("You really are special, aren't you") Her eyes widened in shock, her mouth falling open and her shouts of revenge come to an abrupt halt. A new feeling ran through him now (glee). Then, without another word, he dropped her gently to the floor, turned on his heel, and left the room; all before she can even come up with the words to describe her bewilderment and fury.
The first time he stole her words. Took them right from her mouth and kept them for himself. It didn't satisfy his hunger (desire) for her but he contented himself with it for now.