flying_monkees | Judge, Jury and Executioner (Reply)

Title: Judge, Jury and Executioner
Author:
Characters: Sylar, various others
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Swearing
Word Count: 717
Disclaimer: Heroes does not belong to me no matter how much I wish it did.
Summary: Sylar's on trial.
Table/Prompt: For

heroes_sylar's 12 Days of Sylar: On the Twelfth Day of Sylar, my true love gave to me – Twelve Men on a Jury.
A/N: No beta's, so let me know if there's any mistakes.

Sylar glared at Nathan as he paced back and forth in front of him. He hated the other man and his fingers itched to wrap around his neck but he couldn’t.

“So, you see nothing wrong with what you’ve done.” It wasn’t a question; it was a statement of fact from the elder Petrelli. Sylar’s eyes flickered over to the table in front of him, watching Peter watch his brother.

“Objection your honor.” Peter called out.

Noah shook his head. “Overruled. Continue Mr. Petrelli.” He gave Sylar a dirty look and settled back into his chair.

Sylar knew that there was no way in hell he was going to get a fair trial. Nathan was a lawyer, Peter wasn’t. The judge was against him and the jury box was filled with people he’d killed. There was no way in hell he was getting out of this. The only one that cared about his side of things was Peter and there was no way he was going to win against his brother.

“So you see nothing wrong with what you’ve done. How can we believe you that you’re going to change? That you’re no longer going to kill anyone?” Nathan gives him a look of condescension and Sylar fought the urge to throw him across the courtroom.

“At the time I didn’t see anything wrong with it but now I do. I’ve changed; I don’t want to be like that anymore.” Sylar said through clenched teeth. Everything hung on this god damn trail and he was going to lose, no matter what he did.

“I find that hard to believe. Once a killer, always a killer. There’s no way you can guarantee that you won’t kill again…”

“There’s no guarantee that I will.” Sylar interrupted and Noah pounded his gravel.

“Don’t interrupt, just answer the questions.” He said sternly. Sylar dug his nails into the palm of his hand, trying to keep his temper. This was all skewed against him and no matter what he said or what Peter did, he was damned.

The questions kept coming, more accusations than questions really. Nathan was doing everything he could to make him admit that he would kill the first chance he got. It was getting harder and harder to keep up and he kept looking at Peter who kept trying to get Nathan to stop but Noah wasn’t having anything. Talk about a railroad job.

The longer the questions went on, the more he got agitated. Sylar knew that that’s exactly what they wanted, for him to lose control but he kept watching Peter, his only anchor in this whole fucking thing. It helped.

Finally, Nathan finished and he got up to sit by Peter. Now the waiting, almost worse than Nathan’s damn questions.

Before he even had a chance to pour a glass of water, the jury stood up and said they had their verdict. Spilling the water, he knew what the answer was going to be. They hadn’t even left the fucking box; there was no way it was going to go in his favor.

“You’ve reached a verdict?” Noah asked and the jury foreman nodded. Standing up, the foreman smirked at Sylar.

“We, the jury, find the defendant…”

Sylar jerked awake, sweat running down his back. Sitting up, he rested his elbows on his knees after he pulled them up to his chest. Fucking dreams. He knew what it meant, he was damned and this was his punishment. Being alone for all eternity was what he deserved and he couldn’t blame them. There wasn’t even anyway for him to know if he could change his ways. Not that it mattered, there were no people left for him to try and kill anyway.

The sun started to peek over the surrounding buildings and the sky turned blood red. It was an ominous sight and he frowned. What he didn’t understand was why Peter of all people was defending him. Peter should hate him as much as the others but he was doing everything he could to help him. It made no sense. Well, he wasn’t going to worry about it; it was just a fucking dream.

Getting up, he went to make tea. Today would be a good day to stay in and work on some watches.