(no subject)
Title: What Is And What Should Never Be
Rating: R
Characters: Sylar, Candice
Spoilers: Up to Kindred.
Summary: Sylar attempts to escape from the forest.
Words: 1548
The forest seemed to go on forever, in every direction. Each tree he passed seemed to resemble the next, each path of dirt the same as the last. Despite traveling the world, Sylar still had the survival skills of a boy raised in Brooklyn. He held a hand to his stomach, unsure whether the blood he saw covering his fingers was his or belonged to that Candice girl. He couldn't see the stitches anymore, not in this illusion. If that's indeed what it was.
“Stupid whore,” Sylar shouted, cutting his route through the underbrush. The air was humid and sweat poured off of him, though that may have been due to the fever that was coming. He could feel it, the sickness inching out, surrounding him.
He couldn't stop.
They wouldn't.
Whoever Candice worked for wouldn't let him rest until they had caught up to him. He'd been a prisoner once, held in a Primatech lab. Sylar refused to let that happen again. No matter how dizzy he felt or how much his body was shaking with exhaustion, he couldn't stop.
“Pull him out,” Sylar heard a demand shouted amongst the top of the trees, like God calling out to an atheist. Or worse, the devil he had become. He lifted his head, wondering where it came from. There was no time to look for clues, he knew what they wanted. What they always wanted. “Pull him out of there now!”
Running at full speed, brush and bramble cutting into his legs, Sylar ran as fast and as long as he could. He didn't get very far before the world began to melt around him, swirling in colors like it was going down the drain. “No,” he cried, “I was so close. I was almost out. I was--”
And the room reformed itself around him, the same gray walls he'd been starring at for the past four months and the same observation window, scientists watching him like a hawk. He tripped over a tree limb, sending him crashing into the far wall, realities crashing into one another.
He collapsed into himself, huddling into a ball and pushed himself against the wall, “I WAS OUT!! I was out..” Not again. He couldn't come back to this place again. If he could have held onto that illusion for just a few minutes longer, Sylar was sure he could have made it to the edge of the forest this time.
“You'll pop your stitches,” The older man whom Sylar had grown to hate, warned him as he entered the cell, coming to stand over his subject's body. “Where did you go this time, Gabriel?”
“Leave me alone,” Sylar leaned his head against the wall, once again feeling exhausted from the futile fight. He starred at the ceiling, trying to block this moment and this place from his consciousness, trying to escape again. He tried a different tactic, one his mother had taught him and which didn't seem to be working these days, not with these people. “Please.”
“Not until you tell me where you went.” Dr. Blackstone told him, not budging from his goal. Though whether his goal was understanding or annihilation, Sylar had yet to figure out. He was leaning towards the later. “If you comply with our wishes, I will make sure that we don't run anymore tests on you today. You have my promise.”
Their promises meant little, but Sylar knew it would just be dragged out of him if he didn't answer promptly. The former would hurt less. “The same place I always go when I want to get away.”
“Ah, yes,” Dr. Blackstone jotted this down on his clipboard, making adjustments to his notes. “The shack in the Adirondacks. The place where you killed that young woman. Candice was her name, correct?”
He nodded, silently, watching the doctor write it down.
They'd been over this many times before. As the story went, after surviving the showdown at Kirby Plaza, Sylar had heard of Candice's abilities and sought her out in her new hiding spot. She had been trying to lay low, but as fortune would have it, the company came looking for her at the same time. They'd gotten there only moments after Sylar took her life and then the Company took his, locking him in this underground complex.
“Why do you think you go there when you make these illusions for yourself?”
“What,” Sylar shot him a look, a little of his old brash self creeping back into his features. “Are you writing a book about this? Need a little something for your dissertation?” He was tired of answering questions like these. At least it was better than the alternative; being poked and prodded at was the company's next favorite pastime. They delighted in pushing him over the edge and then bringing him back, just so they could do it all over again.
“We just want to understand you. The best way to ensure that you are cared for, and your abilities nurtured, is to understand why you are the way you are.”
“You don't want to understand me.” Sylar shifted, pushing up his white shirt to show the scars covering his arms. They covered most of his body by now, souvenirs from being their experiment. “You want to stick needles into me, cut into me.. make me bleed, so you can control me.”
“Do you feel like you're being controlled?”
It was another question for their survey. He wondered if all the freaks got asked that. Sylar rested his head on his knees, declining an answer. He smoothed a hand back down his hair, the stubble of the company's usual buzz cut feeling rough against his skin. Was he being controlled?
He rocked back and forth, willing himself not to break here, in front of them.
His eyes went vacant as Sylar thought of a place, a hundred miles from the underground complex where the forest stretched on for days. It was the only place his new power allowed him to go, the only place where he could escape from the company. It didn't matter that he hated the outdoors or that he hated the girl he would wake up next to. It was just a little piece of sanity where they couldn't find him.
“We're losing him again.” He heard someone say from a place far away, but it was as distant as the horizon and as insubstantial as the trade winds. That sound was replaced by a gently rainfall, little droplets hitting the tin roof.
Sylar surveyed his surroundings, feeling a little out of it. It was like waking up, though he couldn't remember dreaming. He couldn't recall much of anything, actually, not where he was or how he had gotten to this place. All he knew was what he could see. The simple bed, the wooden shack, a few bare odds and ends, enough food to last through the season and the few windows that looked out into the woods.
Standing in the doorway, a woman with long red hair was wearing a nightie and listening for signs of thunder in the mountain trees.
He sat on the bed, watching her and the storm brewing outside. “It's getting worse.”
“Don't worry,” She smiled back at him, her figure silhouetted in the doorway. There was a cat-like grace to her movements, dressed up and playing at being predatory. He was stronger though, by far. He could take her neck and snap it in his hands. There was the slightest feeling of deja vu, like he could remember at one time doing exactly that. “The storm will pass and you'll get strong again. Then we'll take them down, one by one.”
“I am strong.” He held the power in this place and if she stepped out of line, that would be made clear to her. This girl, whoever she was, swam in the deep end and she didn't even know she was in over her head. “I could kill them.. if only..”
“If only what?”
Sylar was about to say 'if only he escaped', but couldn't remember anything there was to escape from. She sauntered over to him, placing a finger on his lips before he could answer. He didn't need to explain things to her. He was the one in control.
He grabbed her, throwing her carelessly on the bed underneath him. She flopped against the mattress, her head hitting the backboard lightly. Sylar's fingers dug into her forearms as he forced his way on top of her. Nearly growling, he told her, “I don't think I like you very much.”
“I know.” She ruffled his hair, those thick black locks and simply shrugged. “..but I'm all you've got, baby. Ain't life a bitch that way?”
He took her for the first time that night, though Sylar was sure he'd been here before. In this place, in this time, running from the same thing. Though what he was running from always remained out of reach of his mind, like a thought on the tip of his tongue.
Lightening flashed menacingly across the sky, lighting up the room as he brought her to orgasm. There was something waiting out there in the forest for him. Soon, it would devour him whole.
-End-
Rating: R
Characters: Sylar, Candice
Spoilers: Up to Kindred.
Summary: Sylar attempts to escape from the forest.
Words: 1548
The forest seemed to go on forever, in every direction. Each tree he passed seemed to resemble the next, each path of dirt the same as the last. Despite traveling the world, Sylar still had the survival skills of a boy raised in Brooklyn. He held a hand to his stomach, unsure whether the blood he saw covering his fingers was his or belonged to that Candice girl. He couldn't see the stitches anymore, not in this illusion. If that's indeed what it was.
“Stupid whore,” Sylar shouted, cutting his route through the underbrush. The air was humid and sweat poured off of him, though that may have been due to the fever that was coming. He could feel it, the sickness inching out, surrounding him.
He couldn't stop.
They wouldn't.
Whoever Candice worked for wouldn't let him rest until they had caught up to him. He'd been a prisoner once, held in a Primatech lab. Sylar refused to let that happen again. No matter how dizzy he felt or how much his body was shaking with exhaustion, he couldn't stop.
“Pull him out,” Sylar heard a demand shouted amongst the top of the trees, like God calling out to an atheist. Or worse, the devil he had become. He lifted his head, wondering where it came from. There was no time to look for clues, he knew what they wanted. What they always wanted. “Pull him out of there now!”
Running at full speed, brush and bramble cutting into his legs, Sylar ran as fast and as long as he could. He didn't get very far before the world began to melt around him, swirling in colors like it was going down the drain. “No,” he cried, “I was so close. I was almost out. I was--”
And the room reformed itself around him, the same gray walls he'd been starring at for the past four months and the same observation window, scientists watching him like a hawk. He tripped over a tree limb, sending him crashing into the far wall, realities crashing into one another.
He collapsed into himself, huddling into a ball and pushed himself against the wall, “I WAS OUT!! I was out..” Not again. He couldn't come back to this place again. If he could have held onto that illusion for just a few minutes longer, Sylar was sure he could have made it to the edge of the forest this time.
“You'll pop your stitches,” The older man whom Sylar had grown to hate, warned him as he entered the cell, coming to stand over his subject's body. “Where did you go this time, Gabriel?”
“Leave me alone,” Sylar leaned his head against the wall, once again feeling exhausted from the futile fight. He starred at the ceiling, trying to block this moment and this place from his consciousness, trying to escape again. He tried a different tactic, one his mother had taught him and which didn't seem to be working these days, not with these people. “Please.”
“Not until you tell me where you went.” Dr. Blackstone told him, not budging from his goal. Though whether his goal was understanding or annihilation, Sylar had yet to figure out. He was leaning towards the later. “If you comply with our wishes, I will make sure that we don't run anymore tests on you today. You have my promise.”
Their promises meant little, but Sylar knew it would just be dragged out of him if he didn't answer promptly. The former would hurt less. “The same place I always go when I want to get away.”
“Ah, yes,” Dr. Blackstone jotted this down on his clipboard, making adjustments to his notes. “The shack in the Adirondacks. The place where you killed that young woman. Candice was her name, correct?”
He nodded, silently, watching the doctor write it down.
They'd been over this many times before. As the story went, after surviving the showdown at Kirby Plaza, Sylar had heard of Candice's abilities and sought her out in her new hiding spot. She had been trying to lay low, but as fortune would have it, the company came looking for her at the same time. They'd gotten there only moments after Sylar took her life and then the Company took his, locking him in this underground complex.
“Why do you think you go there when you make these illusions for yourself?”
“What,” Sylar shot him a look, a little of his old brash self creeping back into his features. “Are you writing a book about this? Need a little something for your dissertation?” He was tired of answering questions like these. At least it was better than the alternative; being poked and prodded at was the company's next favorite pastime. They delighted in pushing him over the edge and then bringing him back, just so they could do it all over again.
“We just want to understand you. The best way to ensure that you are cared for, and your abilities nurtured, is to understand why you are the way you are.”
“You don't want to understand me.” Sylar shifted, pushing up his white shirt to show the scars covering his arms. They covered most of his body by now, souvenirs from being their experiment. “You want to stick needles into me, cut into me.. make me bleed, so you can control me.”
“Do you feel like you're being controlled?”
It was another question for their survey. He wondered if all the freaks got asked that. Sylar rested his head on his knees, declining an answer. He smoothed a hand back down his hair, the stubble of the company's usual buzz cut feeling rough against his skin. Was he being controlled?
He rocked back and forth, willing himself not to break here, in front of them.
His eyes went vacant as Sylar thought of a place, a hundred miles from the underground complex where the forest stretched on for days. It was the only place his new power allowed him to go, the only place where he could escape from the company. It didn't matter that he hated the outdoors or that he hated the girl he would wake up next to. It was just a little piece of sanity where they couldn't find him.
“We're losing him again.” He heard someone say from a place far away, but it was as distant as the horizon and as insubstantial as the trade winds. That sound was replaced by a gently rainfall, little droplets hitting the tin roof.
Sylar surveyed his surroundings, feeling a little out of it. It was like waking up, though he couldn't remember dreaming. He couldn't recall much of anything, actually, not where he was or how he had gotten to this place. All he knew was what he could see. The simple bed, the wooden shack, a few bare odds and ends, enough food to last through the season and the few windows that looked out into the woods.
Standing in the doorway, a woman with long red hair was wearing a nightie and listening for signs of thunder in the mountain trees.
He sat on the bed, watching her and the storm brewing outside. “It's getting worse.”
“Don't worry,” She smiled back at him, her figure silhouetted in the doorway. There was a cat-like grace to her movements, dressed up and playing at being predatory. He was stronger though, by far. He could take her neck and snap it in his hands. There was the slightest feeling of deja vu, like he could remember at one time doing exactly that. “The storm will pass and you'll get strong again. Then we'll take them down, one by one.”
“I am strong.” He held the power in this place and if she stepped out of line, that would be made clear to her. This girl, whoever she was, swam in the deep end and she didn't even know she was in over her head. “I could kill them.. if only..”
“If only what?”
Sylar was about to say 'if only he escaped', but couldn't remember anything there was to escape from. She sauntered over to him, placing a finger on his lips before he could answer. He didn't need to explain things to her. He was the one in control.
He grabbed her, throwing her carelessly on the bed underneath him. She flopped against the mattress, her head hitting the backboard lightly. Sylar's fingers dug into her forearms as he forced his way on top of her. Nearly growling, he told her, “I don't think I like you very much.”
“I know.” She ruffled his hair, those thick black locks and simply shrugged. “..but I'm all you've got, baby. Ain't life a bitch that way?”
He took her for the first time that night, though Sylar was sure he'd been here before. In this place, in this time, running from the same thing. Though what he was running from always remained out of reach of his mind, like a thought on the tip of his tongue.
Lightening flashed menacingly across the sky, lighting up the room as he brought her to orgasm. There was something waiting out there in the forest for him. Soon, it would devour him whole.
-End-