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Night 56: M21-M30 Hallway

May 29, 2011 11:42

Dinner had seemed to pass by too quickly, while night had come on quietly, with just the click of the door opening. Nonetheless, Peter had managed to get his new duffel bag packed with all of the medicine, syringes, and medical supplies that he might need without it being too heavy to manage. He still had to carry his shovel in his other hand, ( Read more... )

s.t., sylar, scott pilgrim, peter petrelli, izaya, two-face, spock, tifa, prussia, indiana jones

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7_to_midnight May 30 2011, 00:46:16 UTC

He groaned, pressed his face into the pillow. It was cool, and crisp, and smelled like detergent, and that -- that was a good smell, wasn't it? The rest of his body felt warm, comfortable. Sluggish, if he really wanted to give a word to it; if he really wanted to think about it. Which he didn't.

He tried to bury himself in that, the glorious oblivion of a reality that he only partly recalled right now. He might've even gone back to sleep -- might've succeeded -- if it hadn't been--

"Is that all you can do? Lie there, trying not to sob and scream in pain?"

Sylar breathed, and whipped up, and yanked himself out of the tangled sheets and the half-numb limbs that kept him, briefly, from the solid ground of the bedroom. His feet hit the floor, and he staggered, and grabbed on to the nearby dresser for support.

He shut his eyes and waited for the world to stop spinning before he opened them again. His legs still felt weak, and wobbly, and weak, but he grit his teeth and staggered his way to the desk, nearer to the door. Along with his ( ... )

human_sponge May 30 2011, 04:27:13 UTC

The hallway had been quiet, almost to an unsettling point, until a door right in front of Peter slammed open, crashing through that silence with all the violence of--

Wait, that wasn't any room. Peter halted right in his tracks when he saw a tall, dark-haired figure stumble out, still wearing a uniform that Peter had already almost forgotten about. It was like an image of the past, and yet the way Sylar (Sylar, the bastard was still here) was staring at him made it very clear that this was all real ( ... )

7_to_midnight June 2 2011, 06:21:23 UTC

"Guess you were wrong," Sylar grated out, pressing a hand to the doorframe as he tried to straighten, find his footing, and regain some composure. Although his sight was improving, the light was still dim, and had he not been so familiar with the features of his favorite enemy, he probably wouldn't have been able to recognize him.

He filed through his memories, trying to figure out which one might be able to give him a clue of how long he'd spent in that damn bed. But all he could find was that morning of the military takeover, and then the subsequent night, when he'd used his acquired power and met Claire...

Did Peter know about that? Had he figured it out? He wasn't giving any specific indication of it, but...

As Sylar took a breath and his thoughts clicked back into place, a second realization flitted across his thoughts. He narrowed his eyes.

"Gone for good? Why?"

human_sponge June 2 2011, 18:14:42 UTC

The man was holding onto something for balance, and more than that, his eyes weren't focusing. Had he been drugged? If the staff had heavily sedated him for a few days, that would certainly explain his disappearing act. But for what reason would they do that? Peter seriously doubted that they had suddenly decided that Sylar was dangerous and needed to be monitored more closely.

He hadn't expected the man to ask him a question like that, but it sounded like Sylar was just as confused as he was. Peter paused, still staying in place. Even if the man seemed out of it, there was a possibility it was all a big act to set him off guard. He wouldn't let that happen.

"Because," he started, wondering if he should even bother answering. There was no harm in rubbing the other man's ineptitude into his face, though. "I haven't seen your face in a few days."

And neither had Claire, as far as Peter was aware. She hadn't mentioned it, anyway, and as much as the girl liked to keep her secrets, he would hope that she would bring up a ( ... )

7_to_midnight June 12 2011, 00:54:15 UTC

"A few days..." Sylar echoed, trying to wade through the mental molasses that had situated itself somewhere between his ears and over his memory. Sylar might suspect most other people who knew him to be a mass-murdering psychopath, of lying to him and exploiting any potential vulnerability, but... the wonderful and pathetic truth about Peter was that he was too much of an idiot to realize the potential.

Sylar wasn't, though. He tried to school the pain in his features into a smirk rather than a grimace, sinking his fingers into the doorframe and his heels into the ground. His disorientation was starting to go - slowly - and he was beginning to make out Peter's features and equipment more clearly. It figured he was still toting around that damn shovel like an AK-47, and it figured that it still actually posed a threatHe shook his head and pressed a hand to his temple in a way that he hoped looked casual rather than extremely deliberate. He rubbed, slowly, keeping his eyes on Peter, a familiar grounding point to focus his thoughts and ( ... )

human_sponge June 12 2011, 03:57:43 UTC

As much as Sylar was trying to pass his actions off as normal, Peter had been trained to look for signs of something being wrong in patients. He could tell that the man was either in some sort of pain -- centered around his head, he was guessing, considering the lack of balance and focus -- or that, like his first guess, there were drugs involved. It wasn't the sort of thing the man would necessarily recover from immediately ( ... )

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