thepainted_lady: (The things you've gone and told me)
[Mohinder is [livejournal.com profile] capableof_both and mine to use for purposes of this fic/verse. Samuel is [livejournal.com profile] offering_hope, Sylar is [livejournal.com profile] heroslayer and both are mentioned with permission. Edgar is not aimed at any particular muse, 'cause we don't have an Edgar in 'verse. :-D]

He was watching her again. He did that a lot, those dark eyes burning across the arid ground, boring into bared, painted skin like he could peel it back with a look and expose even more of her. What was he looking for, she wondered. Some proof of her perfidy, no doubt. That he didn't trust Samuel and trusted her even less she didn't need her ability to know, though neither of them had given him any reason for such virulent mistrust. Hadn't she vacated Sylar's bed and left it to him with nary an argument? Hadn't Samuel offered him a place, a home, a family, when he'd been lost and wandering, rejected for the things he'd done by even those who once claimed to be his closest friends? He'd killed. He'd tortured. He'd maimed. She knew what he was, what blackened his soul as surely as it soaked through others' here, and yet, there he sat in his bright linen, peeling an apple, watching her as if she were something less than him.

Why? What had she done to him, ever? Shared the bed of the man he loved? He couldn't say he'd not bedded anyone else but Sylar. She'd told Sylar no lies, done nothing but give him comfort when he was lost, something and someone to cling to, a haven from the storm. Was it because she belonged to someone else? Samuel knew where she was, what she'd done, had sent her to do it, even, to make the former killer at home. It hadn't been a hardship. Was that the good doctor's problem? Not that she'd gone to Sylar's bed, but that she'd done it at Samuel's direction, for purposes other than lust or love? Well, other than love. Even without his memory, Sylar remembered what to do in the bedroom, and she hadn't needed to pretend much of anything, though that was a secret she'd keep close to herself. Samuel's jealousy was the last thing they needed added to the mix.

An itching sensation crawled along her skin and she finally threw down the trowel from the ditch she'd been digging. Another pair of dark eyes snapped up, catching the movement, and then another, and another, and she knew full well that three others watched her progress across the stretch of ground that separated her from the Indian. She didn't stop, even so, not until she was enough into his space that Mohinder was forced to straighten to meet her, something vaguely like alarm in his eyes.

'What is your problem?' she asked, voice low, but hard. )
thepainted_lady: ([Edgar] Trust you with my life)
Let me be your shelter
Let me be your light
You're safe, No one will find you
Your fears are far behind you...
All I want is freedom,
A world with no more night
And you, always beside me,
To hold me and to hide me...
Then say you'll share with me
One love, one lifetime
Let me lead you from your solitude
Say you need me with you here, beside you...
Anywhere you go, let me go too
That's all I ask of you...


She saves the voicemail message, even though it might not be the wisest idea. Samuel knows of the phone, now, knows she has it--he could come looking, searching at any time, to see if she's keeping any more secrets from him. But she keeps it just the same, as if in defiance of the danger, however small a defiance it might be. It's something she can play in the night, in her trailer, when she's scared of what's to come, scared for Amanda, scared for all of them.

It gives her hope, even more than the text message exhorting her to keep on fighting. She's never been much of a fighter, doesn't know how to stand up to Samuel, truly, without bringing down his wrath. How can she hope to sway him from his course, when he's so determined and in possession of such power? He seems to grow stronger every day, and more bent on a path that leads to ruin, for all of them. Part of her knows she should just leave. Pack Amanda up and go--anywhere. They could go back to Carol, surely, if only for a little while. Amanda wouldn't go alone, but maybe, if Lydia promised to go with her, maybe then she would go.

And Carol would take them in.  She'd have to.  If Lydia had to tell her about what they both were, so be it...but then what?  How would she support them?  How would she survive out there?  If she leaves Amanda again, she has no doubt she'll find her way back here, back to Samuel's influence.  There's no assurance, even, he wouldn't come after them, should they go.  Joseph never held anyone to the family if they wished to leave, but Samuel...Samuel needs them in ways she cannot understand. He's unreasonable about it, about building the family, growing it, "helping" all those lost out there, but they aren't all lost, not really, and underneath his words something rings false. He isn't outright lying, she doesn't think, but he's driven more by power than altruism, and he won't listen to her, not anymore.

She curls up at night, and she tries to think of a way out, and she knows she can't do it alone.  Moreover, she figures out, finally, listening to the message for the upteenth time, hearing the echo of his voice and the way it calms her, even from so far away--she doesn't want to do it alone. She misses him with an ache she can't deny, like part of herself has been torn away. She has her daughter, the person she channeled all of her longing into, but that hole she's lived with for so long is still there. Amanda's here, but Edgar is gone, and that's wrong, somehow, above and beyond everything that Samuel has done or is planning.  It's wrong not to see his face, wrong not to hear his voice in the morning, wrong not to have his strength to lean on.

The laugh in her throat turns almost to a sob, because she realizes she misses what she never had almost as much as what she did, and so she plays the message again, and she tries to draw strength and hope from it, for gaining back what was lost and something so much more besides.

"Lydia, it's me. I don't know when; I don't know how. But I'll come back for both of you. I promise."*

Edgar has always kept his promises to her, and she softly promises herself that when he fulfills this one, she'll make a few of her own, and neither of them will ever have to be alone again.

[*Quote from "Slow Burn" - Part 10/ Edgar is [livejournal.com profile] right_handman ]

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Lydia

October 2011

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