thepainted_lady: (It's not always that simple)
1. We both had lives before. We all have them, I guess. But for me, it's just that. Before. There's a strict line of demarcation there--my life before, and my life after. Again--I guess we can all say that--before we left our old lives, before we found this home, this family. But that's not it for me, not really. Yes, there was a renewal the moment I stepped through the gates, there was a feeling of coming home, of finding what I'd been looking for. But all of that faded into the background the next morning, because the moment life truly began again for me was the first time you touched my hand.

2. You're the only thing in my life I've ever depended on, and the only person I think I'll ever fully trust. I just wish that was enough.

3. Thank you for coming back for me. I'll make sure you never regret it. However it started, whatever we had to go through, it's all made me certain of one indisputable fact: I love you.

4. I would have given you anything. I did give you everything. There's part of me that still wishes I'd never woken up, because there's a pain that I can't seem to shake that I live with every day. There are days I can't breathe for it. But I'm not that girl anymore. I see you now, with all the blinders off. I may be alive, but you killed something precious that day. Things still hurt, but I'm stronger now, and I don't care what I feel--it's over.

5. I never wanted to let you down or hurt you, but I know I keep doing it again and again. All my best efforts seem to do nothing but backfire, when all I ever wanted was for you to be safe and loved and have a chance at everything I never did. I love you. I would do anything for you. And I hope some day you can forgive me.

6. Sometimes I wonder if things could have been different, but I'm glad you're happy now.

7. You're the most confusing person I've ever met. Normally I know exactly what someone wants from me, but no matter how hard I try, even though I can read you just fine, I can't figure you out. ...It's kind of exciting.

8. I don't think there are enough words to say, "thank you." Everything you've done, you didn't have to. I can't imagine how much we've turned your life upside down and what we've put you through, but I want you to know I'm grateful--to you and for you.

9. Sometimes I don't think it's fair to you, to be trying to build something with me, when I know I'm shattered into so many pieces I still feel them cutting at me all the time. There's so much you don't know, and that scares me. But you make me feel safe, and you make me smile, and you make me feel...hope for the first time in so long I can't remember. I'm terrified of falling for you, but I think it might be too late.

10. I didn't want to like you, but I couldn't help it. I didn't think I could forgive you, but it wasn't really that hard. I never thought I'd love you, but now I can't imagine how I ever couldn't.

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thepainted_lady: ([Amanda] Listen to me)
Happy birthday, sweetheart. Seventeen is a momentous year. I just want to say how glad I am to have you in my life again.

I love you,
Mom

[on the table are gifts: silver bangle bracelets, a "forever my daughter" ring, and a very colorful pair of cowboy rain boots.]
thepainted_lady: ([Sylar] Swinging her around)
"Love is the difficult realization that something other than oneself is real." ~ Iris Murdoch

She was going to die.

This wasn't exactly news, given it had happened once already, but the follow up was one she hadn't really considered, even though she'd seen proof of it in her trailer that night she didn't like to dwell on.

He wasn't.

The two sentences rolled around in her head as she stood in the kitchen mixing up batter for muffins because she couldn't stand to just sit staring out the window at the cold winter waves beating on the empty shoreline anymore. She was going to die. He wasn't. It could be strung together as one sentence and the horrible implications became all the more clear. She was going to die, and he wasn't.

After the cold reaches of the darkness she liked to dwell on even less than that night, she would have thought the contemplation of her own mortality would be the far more upsetting of those two propositions. He'd expected her to hate him for it, or feared she would grow to, but when she thought about it, all she felt was this ache that caught at her throat and twisted up around inside of her making it hard to breathe.

She was going to die, and he wasn't. Someday, someway, despite all of her promises, and no matter how hard she tried not to...she was going to leave him, just like everyone else had. Her own body would betray her, and him, and she'd simply...cease to be, and he'd be alone. The little fears and vanities that reared their heads in the back of her mind, the will-he-still-want-me-when-I'm-not-as-young-and-pretties and the how-could-he-stay-if-I-get-old-and-sick-at-the-ends, faded under the lines of pain at that.

She didn't want to leave him alone, didn't want to leave him to watch the centuries stretch out in front of him in a string of loss or loneliness. The fact that Claire might be there was hardly a consolation, and one she dismissed. The fact that he might fall in love again...to what end? To lose love again, as well? That hurt, too, both personally, and for him.

She was crying again, as she had the night before, though it wasn't for the same reasons this time. The fear that had lingered wasn't really gone, but it wasn't at the forefront of her mind. Pain for him, for what he'd go through without her, for knowing that he had to live with that everyday...it left her gasping a little for air, and clinging to the counter until her knuckles were white.

She was going to die, and he wasn't. That meant she had to find a way to make every day he did have with her count, so he'd never doubt in all those years to come that he'd been loved. No matter what anyone else had done, or would do, no matter what happened or what he faced after she was gone...she wanted him to know that and have that as a surety. For as long as she had, he'd be loved, he'd have a home. They'd have a life, and by god, it would be a good one. No regrets. No looking back. No doubts. No second-guessing. No more what-might-have-beens.

She wiped her tears and gave the batter a vicious punch with the spoon. She wasn't exactly sure where to start, but making muffins to rival Mrs. Comey's waffles seemed to be as good as anywhere, even if she was still figuring out the cooking things after years of not. If she was going to die, and he wasn't, she didn't want to waste any more of their precious time on tears.
thepainted_lady: ([Amanda] Listen to me)
Dear Amanda,

I know there’s a lot you don’t understand--about me, about my life, about why I left, about why I didn’t want you here. The last is the worst, I think. I see it in your eyes every time you look at me, that hurt, the betrayal, the accusation. I’m a bad mother, or I never wanted to be one, or I don’t want you, or ... whatever it is you think. Maybe the first is true...maybe I am a bad mother...but you mustn’t think the other two.

The only thing I ever wanted for you was to be safe, happy, to have everything I never did.

I didn’t know about abilities when I left you with Carol--I didn’t know what I was except that I felt like a freak. She was older and married and able to give you so much I couldn’t--a stable home, a normal home, with two parents who loved you. Because she did love you. I could feel that from her, completely, and her husband was a good man. He wanted to be a good father to you, and that was something that no matter what I did, I couldn’t give you.

Even once I found out about abilities...what life was being the daughter of a single, teenage mother at a traveling carnival compared to a comfortable, cohesive family? You could go to school, have friends, put down roots, grow up learning to ride a bicycle and playing with dolls...We were outcasts, the people society didn’t want, and as far as I knew, you were normal. You had a chance at a life in a world that didn’t want me.

Then I found out you were like me, and, Amanda, you have to know I was going to come for you. I understood--you couldn’t stay there. Carol wouldn’t understand. You’re like me. But the government had been hunting us, and Joseph had been murdered, and there were new people in the carnival I couldn’t trust...Edgar was going to come for you, take you somewhere safe, and I was going to follow. I was going to do my best to find somewhere safe for both of us, to be with you...

But you found me first, and you overheard things that weren’t true, things I was saying to protect you, because I didn’t trust Samuel’s reasons for wanting you with us. You were my daughter, and he didn’t need to be making decisions about you. I had to assure him of my loyalty, though. He’d already taken the money, cut off my one avenue of escape...I had to placate him...to try and think of something else, another way to get to you, to make you safe...

I didn’t mean the things I said. I never meant for you to hear them.

You mean the world to me, Amanda. You’re the one thing I’ve longed for all of my life. Leaving you is the only regret I’ve ever let stay on my mind. You’re the one thing I did right--the best thing I’ve ever done, and I have wanted you with me from the day I walked out of Carol’s door.

I just loved you enough to give up what I wanted in order to try and give you a better life. I never meant to hurt you with that.

I’m sorry. I hope one day you’ll understand, and one day, maybe, you’ll forgive me.

Love forever,
Mom

[Complete list here.]
thepainted_lady: ([Samuel] Not your whore)
Samuel -

I’ve started this a million times, then crossed it out and thrown it away. Trying to put into words what you’ve done, what you did...it doesn’t come, not easily, maybe not at all. Not truly. The words to grasp it, to wrap around it, don’t seem to do it justice. Then, I think, nothing could. It’s something that has to be felt, and I’m not sure you ever could feel it. I know you know what betrayal feels like, and I know you know loss, and disappointment, and what it feels like to love someone who doesn’t love you back, but...

Can you combine them all? Do you have it in you? Did you even realize, ever, what you held in your hands all that time?

I would have given you the world, at a word. My life, my heart, my body, my soul--they were yours for the taking, because I believed in you, believed you were special, believed you could rise above the limitations Joseph put on you, could be the savior you wanted to see yourself as. You wanted to be our Messiah, and I believed you had it in you. I wanted to help you make your dreams come true.

I was foolish enough to believe that maybe, just maybe, those dreams included me. Joseph would never have allowed it, but I thought in taking charge you’d finally claim what had been yours for the taking all along.

Except...you didn’t want me. )

[Complete List Here.]
thepainted_lady: (My only home)
"There is fate, but it only takes you so far because once you're there, it's up to you to make it happen." ~ Can't Hardly Wait

The smell of the sea air was familiar enough that she could almost lose it out here on the Boardwalk. Caramel apples, cotton candy, popcorn and deep fried treats wafted their scents in the air, drowning out the salty tang unless you searched for it.

She wasn't searching tonight.

Leaning against a lamppost, she munched on popcorn and watched the crowd milling about under the bright lights. She closed her eyes, reaching out with her senses, along the fragile bonds of connectivity she'd forged that grew a little stronger with each passing week. Amanda was in the arcade down the way. A rather handsome young man handed out the prizes there, and Lydia was willing to lay odds Amanda was trying to get his attention. She reached out a bit further, until she found Sylar down on the beach, lurking under the wooden slats that supported the pier that held a practical carnival all around her.

After ascertaining their whereabouts, Lydia drew those emotional tendrils back into herself, contained once more, though she kept her eyes closed. The sounds of girls screaming in joy on one ride, the music pounding from another, the call of the barkers reeling people in for games swept over her, and her fingers curled into a fist in the popcorn bag, her other hand near crushing it at the punch of pain that hit hard enough she couldn't breathe.

Sometimes it was more vicious than others. Tonight, she felt tears well, a wordless grief for everything lost, but it ebbed as she took a breath, then another and another, pushing past the tightness in her chest and the lump in her throat. Bad memories eased back, and she let the sense of home wrap around her instead, reveling in the sense of familiarity in a world gone upside down.

The warm arms that slid around her waist helped, and, with a sigh, she leaned back against Sylar's chest. )

Muse: Lydia
Fandom: Heroes
Words: 1360
Notes: Sylar is [livejournal.com profile] heroslayer and used with love and permission.
thepainted_lady: ([Sylar] Visions of me and you)
Connecting to other people, feeling what they feel, is old hat for Lydia, but having someone return the favor, look into her, see her, connect to her, is something new and she's still not sure how she feels about it.
thepainted_lady: ([Sylar] Laughing at dinner)
Either slipped into his trailer/or left on their kitchen table, in a brightly wrapped package, because somewhere in all the chaos they've gone through his must've gotten lost, and she well knows how he likes things to be:

The larger box, holds a sturdy leather toiletry case, suitable for traveling. In the smaller, is a 7-piece straight razor shaving kit, including an ebony handled razor and a pure badger shaving brush.

Note in Carnivale:

Happy birthday. I hope, whatever comes, that this will be a good memory you can hold on to. Know that you're always family, no matter what, no matter who you choose to be--you have a place in this world, and people who care about you. You don't have to be alone anymore.

Love,
Lydia


Note in their verse:

Happy birthday, Sylar. The first of many we'll spend together, I hope. I don't think anything could ever balance the second chance you've given me, but I hope you like these anyway. I've got breakfast waiting down on the beach, whenever you'd like to join me. ;-)

Love,
Lydia


Note in Four Quartets: (only the shaving kit, 'cause, well. she hasn't slept with him there? idk. lol)

Happy birthday and welcome to the family. I got the sense you might be missing something like this, and thought it would make a nice welcome and birthday gift at the same time. I hope you are settling in well, and look forward to celebrating many more birthdays with you.

Lydia
thepainted_lady: (Dreaming of something better)
Death )

Mile )

Paper )

Wine )

Teeth )

Electricity )

Ink )

Sex )

Heaven )

Kitten )

[ooc note: The more canonical drabbles don't refer to any specific Samuel, Edgar or Sylar. Where [livejournal.com profile] hearts_andminds RP/plot or other 'verse seems indicated, Samuel here is [livejournal.com profile] offering_hope and Edgar is [livejournal.com profile] right_handman.]
thepainted_lady: ([Sylar] Visions of me and you)
Lydia didn't deceive herself that Sylar loved her in the way little girls dreamed of being loved one day, but she wasn't a little girl anymore, and what he offered was more than the shattered fantasies they both had left behind, and she promised herself she'd make sure he never regretted choosing her.
thepainted_lady: ([Sylar] Empathy)
For the first time in her life, Lydia was learning what it was like for other people being around her. She'd spent years reading others with a touch, seeing into their souls as they were laid bare before her, all while keeping herself just a little apart, a bastion of reserve wrapped around her heart. Her secrets were her own, intimate and inviolate, and no one gained entrance to them unless she gave them permission, and then only to the extent she chose to share.

Now Sylar had her ability, had her perception, had her gift and had her number. She couldn't hide from him behind those carefully constructed walls, couldn't lie and pretend all was well--doubly so considering the man knew when anyone was lying to him even without her gift. She'd never known how much she relied on being the enigma, the mysterious one, the girl apart until he was there, in her soul and under her skin as much as she was used to being with others. It brought a breathless sort of intimacy to some things, easy to get lost in, but there were days she wished to hell he'd never acquired her skill.

Today was one of them. )

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Lydia

October 2011

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