Taking a Turn Towards Eternity: Chapter 4
Chapter 4:
I own nothing and anyone offended by adult language should run far, far away.
CHAPTER 4
What the fuck had just happened here? Claire stood, jaw dropped, truly flabbergasted and incredibly aroused in front of the slammed door, completely at a loss for words. Oh man, oh man, oh boy... oh jeez... she... he... OH MAN! Are you kidding me? I mean, seriously? ARE YOU KIDDING ME? Did that really just happen?
Did Sylar, her own personal stalker, just brush her off?
What the hell was happening to her life? Had she entered the fuckin' Twilight Zone?
Yes.
Yes, she had. Here in the Twilight Zone, Sylar was a fun, intriguing, smart... and god forgive her, a sweet guy. This was the crazy ass Twilight Zone where Claire was choosing of her own personal violation to make out with him.
Good God in Heaven, what was wrong with her?
Claire shook her head. She was so not dealing with this right now. It was time to pull herself together. This really was a problem for another day. Her asshole dad was probably out there, throwing some poor unsuspecting sap into a cage for the rest of their life... and here she was, bitchin' and moaning about her sexual relationship with a serial killer... just freaking fabulous.
She was Claire fucking Bennet, the indestructible girl and she needed to get back to her original mission, "Get out of here, stat."
She would have plenty of time to berate herself for this... later.
Conveniently enough, as Claire was mumbling her way down the hall, the elevator arrived on the floor and opened. The woman inside was incredibly tall and rail-thin, with midnight black hair falling around her shoulders. She was dressed in a gorgeous red dress that Claire was completely and totally jealous of. Although personally Claire thought the dress was a little risqué for 7:30 in the morning. The girl smiled hugely at Claire, bright blue eyes sparkling with mischief as she swaggered out of the elevator. She was older than Claire's eternal body by a few years or so and toting an over sized bright purple over-night bag and a giant lime green purse.
Claire smiled reflexively at the girl and entered the elevator and jammed at the button repeatedly, immediately resuming her mental tirade. ARGH! Hell was probably too good for the likes of Claire. So what if kissing Sylar had been the hottest thing that had ever happened in her entire freaking life? It had been hot like the fire of a thousand suns, hot like the fiery surface of Venus, hot like... something else ridiculously hot, and god help her, even now, through a haze of self-loathing, she wanted more. She had felt like she was burning alive, and so what if touching him had felt like dying... the only sensation that had ever been real in the world of Claire Bennet. Terrifyingly enough, there had been... feeling... oh god, so much of it, it had been earth-shattering. Surely no one could live feeling that much. It was for Sylar, of all people in the whole damn world... why, oh why did it have to be him?
Why couldn't just one little thing in her life be halfway normal? She could just have a normal crush, on a normal person... not that she had a crush on Sylar at all... SHIT. This thread of thinking was clearly getting her nowhere. Despite herself she just kept thinking about when his lips had pressed against hers; it had been like he'd been hiding in her blood, lurking in her soul, just waiting for the moment to strike. She felt like she was a little piece of driftwood, caught by the tide that was Sylar, doomed never to see land again. God now she was thinking in lame metaphors... she was totally effed!
She was so scared to think that all the crazy talk he had been spouting in the classroom had been completely true. He'd been so matter-of-fact, with his stupid chalkboard, his damn little T-chart. Jesus, maybe he was onto something, that they were the same... two sides of a coin; a battered, broken and abandoned coin, linked together despite all odds. He had told her that wonderful/terrible sensation of feeling was gone on that fateful day where he had told her that she was even more freakish than the rest, an anomaly in a world of impossibilities. She had learned today that he had been very wrong about that. Claire had felt something today, you could take that to the bank. Claire was very worried that this particular something might just be beyond her control.
Surely, though, today's disaster had been a fluke of circumstance... an emotional roller coaster ride combined with close proximity and freak hormonal weakness. She had just terribly defiled the memory of her biological parents and childhood best friend, not to mention a whole pile of poor innocent bastards. Claire had vowed to hunt that bastard for the rest of her days... and just look how that was turning out for her.
Honestly... she had to be the biggest idiot in the whole world, and that was only reaffirmed as she heard the giant-stick girl pound on an apartment door. Claire looked through the closing elevator doors to see the gorgeous stranger knocking on Peter and Emma's door, calling out, "Hey, Sy! It's Mac. Open up!"
The elevator had closed on that note. Claire took a deep breath and slammed her hand onto the emergency stop. Well... if that wasn't just a kick in the nuts. She spent the next 5 minutes yelling her lungs raw as she gave into a tsunami of wicked powerful anger.
What a pile of bullshit! That fucking smirky RAT BASTARD! First First Lady my ass!
Then when she realized she had left her purse, keys and cell phone at Peter's, she pounded her head repeatedly against the wall of the elevator, frustrated beyond any previous imaginings and stuck between a rock and a hard place.
Well... that couldn't possibly have gone any better. Sylar was, to put it mildly, pleased with the way things had turned out. Claire Bennet had... attacked him. That fire in her eyes had almost burned him as she had given into some inner demon and dragged him to her. It had been glorious. Everything was falling into place now.
He honestly couldn't get over the fact that she had been the one to kiss him; the classroom experiment set aside as that business was just an integral part of Lydia's ability. He'd really never imagined their first actual kiss would be Claire's doing.
Fuck yes!
God, and her face as he had closed the door had been PRICELESS.
Keeping Claire off-balance was going to be key in the next few weeks, he knew. After all, her stubborn attitude was one of the best things about Claire. She would walk her path, regardless of what her father, uncle or a general sense of normalcy may dictate. Sylar did believe beyond all else, that together, they balanced each other... he was continuously pulling her toward an inevitable future, while she held close the past and created a sense of placement and reality within a world that was unreal.
Regardless, she would love him, by God... and sooner, rather than later if Sylar had anything to say about it. In the world according to Sylar, their eventual union was fact, and no douchebag was going to sneak in from the sidelines and ruin his eternity. She'd been surprised by his statement of ownership towards her as she left. Sylar really felt she should know better, as though he had been pretty damn clear. No woman except Claire would be acceptable.
And... joy of joys... what a treat the future might hold for him! He had been expecting that Bennet would be dead in the ground long before he would be able to put his true focus on Claire. Oh, the mere thought of Bennet knowing that Sylar was touching his little girl, that was a treat Sylar had resigned himself to missing out on. Now it seemed like he just might get to give Noah Bennet, his own personal life ruiner, the ultimate finger, by fucking his precious Claire-Bear. Additionally, depending on the severity of this whole "kidnapping special people" situation, some video and/or photographical evidence could be some icing on the cake that Sylar might just get to give to his most annoying and manipulative of enemies.
But before he worried about that, he was going to take a few more moments to really appreciate the excellence of his current position. Like water after a journey through the desert, tasting her had been torture in a way, to have everything he wanted at his fingertips, his precious Claire... the only thing he couldn't just take for himself, was trying to say the least. Patience was a virtue that really needed to be cultivated by one particular mass murder for the time being.
She was intense in an incredibly sexy way that he hadn't anticipated. Jesus, just thinking about it had him hard all over again. She obviously had some pent-up issues rumbling around in that psyche that he would enjoy exploring and exploiting. She was just so interesting. How could two people with such similar beginnings come to such different points in such a short time period? She chose to save and hold close all the fragile humans in her life, fighting a battle that she could never hope to win. Sylar knew Claire was the only real constant he could ever hope to hold. His obsession with Claire had really been a cross to bear, an obstacle he thought would take decades to climb... but here he was, in his favorite position... the position of power.
God, he felt fucking amazing right now.
Now it was finally time for a sleep that would put Rip Van Winkle to shame. It was about fuckin' time.
With a shit-eating grin plastered across his face, Sylar headed for the couch. He hadn't taken two steps toward the living room when he heard the knock on the door. Assuming it was Claire, refusing to leave, he was about to head to the couch anyway, politeness be damned. He was going to sleep, goddamnit.
Then he heard, "Sy" he knew it could only be one person before she even said her name. There was only one woman who wasn't so incredibly intimidated by him that she would dare to give him a nickname of all things. Heaving a giant sigh, he turned back towards the door. He knew there was no way Mackenzie Desmond was leaving until she talked to him, her stubbornness was right up there with his own favorite cheerleader. Sylar also knew that Mac wouldn't just show up at Peter and Emma's apartment for nothing... sociable was not the first adjective he would use to describe her. Something was afoot and he just hoped he could take a damn nap before the shit hit the fan.
"I'm being stalked." Mac said without preamble, tossing her bags to the floor with considerable force.
"Christ, Mac," Sylar sighed, Mac had a tendency to be overdramatic... often. Side effect of being a female serial killer, Sylar supposed.
She was rooting around in the ridiculous purple bag, "I'm not messing around about this, dude," she pulled out a huge bottle of water and gulped at it before continuing, "Some dream manipulating asshole. And I'll tell you this Sy, when I find the bastard who's doing this, my vengeance is going to be of biblical proportions."
"Fair. You know I'm a big fan of vengeance, but if you could be a little more coherent, as I am fucking exhausted, it would be much appreciated."
Lifting her hand to brush her stray dark hair out of her face and rolling her eyes, she sighed loudly once before speaking obnoxiously slowly, "Some-one is invading my DREAMS. This is B-A-D!"
"Mac, I'd like to think that you can handle one measly dream playing bitch," he massaged his temples in an attempt to thwart the headache that was brewing. Sylar had seen Mackenzie in action. She was currently being hunted by multiple private and government organizations. This problem should be well within her control. This being a hero thing was turning out to be more trouble than it was worth.
"Listen Grumpy Gus, everyone's gotta sleep. Obviously you are well aware, and I would like to think with your immortality and all you wouldn't be such a little bitch about a little sleep deprivation. I'm in real trouble here," by this point she had pulled a bottle of Jack Daniels and two matching double shot glasses out of her bag and started making her way into the apartment.
Knowing the routine, Sylar trailed tiredly behind, resigning himself to a day that would never end. This is what you get when you make friends, he thought. At the moment, Sylar couldn't remember one reason why he'd wanted any in the first place. At least loners could sleep once and a while! Jeez, what would he do if he had more than two or three friends? God, his head hurt even worse just pondering on that one.
By the time he had reached the kitchen, she had set the glasses on the island and filled them up to the brim. "I'm scared, Sy," for the first time since she had entered the apartment her eyes had gone dark and serious.
She gestured to his glass, which he grabbed and Mac lifted hers in salute, "Cause its not just me in these dreams who's doomed, it's the whole freaking universe."
They knocked the shots back together, and Sylar felt the beautiful burn shoot through his body and she immediately refilled them, continuing as she poured, "It's three or four variations on the same theme, end of the world, end of time, end of everyone and everything, blah, blah, blah."
Throwing another back, she set her glass down, clearly perturbed and huffed loudly, "As much as I don't wanna say this, I think you need to do that stupid creepy memory power on me, as you are wrapped right up in this mess too," she thrust her hand directly in front of his face, "And you don't be poking where you don't belong, buddy!"
Sylar batted her hand out of his face, "You said you never wanted me to do that to you."
His clairsentience had always really freaked Mac out. She'd explained once that she felt that memories should be just for the owner, always. It was one of the very few powers that Mac had put in the category of, "DO NOT ACQUIRE."
"In fact, I seem to remember you threatening disembowelment and dismemberment a thousand times over for my lanky immortal ass... I'm paraphrasing, of course," Sylar rolled his eyes with supreme sarcasm as he filled the glasses again.
Pissed, she dropped her hand. She started mumbling angrily under her breath and rapidly pacing across the kitchen, the echo of her heels pounding out an extreme staccato beat. After four passes by the island she grabbed the shot glass and tossed it back in one motion. "You're really being a pain in the ass, you know."
Sylar tossed his hands into the air, exasperated, "You have always been very clear on this point, Mac. Whatever secret you don't want me to see is still in there, I might stumble on it, I can't guarantee anything with this stupid power," he huffed, pissed at himself for allowing a power to defeat him even in the slightest of ways. Objects retain so many stray and confusing memories, it was even harder to sift through the memories of an actual person with any type of precision.
Sliding his refilled glass towards him she shook her head sadly at him. "I wish there was another option, Sy, I really do. I don't think we can avoid it. There could be clues, information or tones I'm missing."
Sylar tossed back the next shot and for about 5 heartbeats felt slightly drunk. Sylar and Mac had discovered on one epic night that it was in fact possible to get completely wasted, even in the face of immortality. Sylar had been able to discover exactly how quickly their livers were absorbing the alcohol and using the oxidization aspect of a plant manipulation power it was almost too easy to get completely shitfaced in thirty minutes. Quickly throwing another back he braced himself for her anger, "Mac, I'm not going to do it. Sorry, but you fucking told me not to. I made a promise never to invade your privacy like that Mac, you know I don't take my promises lightly."
"Well... I really didn't want to be the messenger for this one, but whatever," back to the shot glass, grimacing this time as it went down, "So the dream manipulator is not the real problem... he's a side quest, if you will. It's his uber creepy boss guy, who's after me... and your precious tattoo-arm-girl."
Sylar felt his whole body go stiff and real fear surge through him, "You're wrong."
Mac rolled her eyes, "Have I ever been wrong about anything?"
"How do you know?"
"I told you, it's all in this fuckin' dream. Now if you would just please watch it so we can figure out what the hell we are gonna do about it, I would really appreciate it."
"Fine," Incredibly angry, and without options, Sylar grabbed her hand and took them both into her memories.
I own nothing and anyone offended by adult language should run far, far away.
CHAPTER 4
What the fuck had just happened here? Claire stood, jaw dropped, truly flabbergasted and incredibly aroused in front of the slammed door, completely at a loss for words. Oh man, oh man, oh boy... oh jeez... she... he... OH MAN! Are you kidding me? I mean, seriously? ARE YOU KIDDING ME? Did that really just happen?
Did Sylar, her own personal stalker, just brush her off?
What the hell was happening to her life? Had she entered the fuckin' Twilight Zone?
Yes.
Yes, she had. Here in the Twilight Zone, Sylar was a fun, intriguing, smart... and god forgive her, a sweet guy. This was the crazy ass Twilight Zone where Claire was choosing of her own personal violation to make out with him.
Good God in Heaven, what was wrong with her?
Claire shook her head. She was so not dealing with this right now. It was time to pull herself together. This really was a problem for another day. Her asshole dad was probably out there, throwing some poor unsuspecting sap into a cage for the rest of their life... and here she was, bitchin' and moaning about her sexual relationship with a serial killer... just freaking fabulous.
She was Claire fucking Bennet, the indestructible girl and she needed to get back to her original mission, "Get out of here, stat."
She would have plenty of time to berate herself for this... later.
Conveniently enough, as Claire was mumbling her way down the hall, the elevator arrived on the floor and opened. The woman inside was incredibly tall and rail-thin, with midnight black hair falling around her shoulders. She was dressed in a gorgeous red dress that Claire was completely and totally jealous of. Although personally Claire thought the dress was a little risqué for 7:30 in the morning. The girl smiled hugely at Claire, bright blue eyes sparkling with mischief as she swaggered out of the elevator. She was older than Claire's eternal body by a few years or so and toting an over sized bright purple over-night bag and a giant lime green purse.
Claire smiled reflexively at the girl and entered the elevator and jammed at the button repeatedly, immediately resuming her mental tirade. ARGH! Hell was probably too good for the likes of Claire. So what if kissing Sylar had been the hottest thing that had ever happened in her entire freaking life? It had been hot like the fire of a thousand suns, hot like the fiery surface of Venus, hot like... something else ridiculously hot, and god help her, even now, through a haze of self-loathing, she wanted more. She had felt like she was burning alive, and so what if touching him had felt like dying... the only sensation that had ever been real in the world of Claire Bennet. Terrifyingly enough, there had been... feeling... oh god, so much of it, it had been earth-shattering. Surely no one could live feeling that much. It was for Sylar, of all people in the whole damn world... why, oh why did it have to be him?
Why couldn't just one little thing in her life be halfway normal? She could just have a normal crush, on a normal person... not that she had a crush on Sylar at all... SHIT. This thread of thinking was clearly getting her nowhere. Despite herself she just kept thinking about when his lips had pressed against hers; it had been like he'd been hiding in her blood, lurking in her soul, just waiting for the moment to strike. She felt like she was a little piece of driftwood, caught by the tide that was Sylar, doomed never to see land again. God now she was thinking in lame metaphors... she was totally effed!
She was so scared to think that all the crazy talk he had been spouting in the classroom had been completely true. He'd been so matter-of-fact, with his stupid chalkboard, his damn little T-chart. Jesus, maybe he was onto something, that they were the same... two sides of a coin; a battered, broken and abandoned coin, linked together despite all odds. He had told her that wonderful/terrible sensation of feeling was gone on that fateful day where he had told her that she was even more freakish than the rest, an anomaly in a world of impossibilities. She had learned today that he had been very wrong about that. Claire had felt something today, you could take that to the bank. Claire was very worried that this particular something might just be beyond her control.
Surely, though, today's disaster had been a fluke of circumstance... an emotional roller coaster ride combined with close proximity and freak hormonal weakness. She had just terribly defiled the memory of her biological parents and childhood best friend, not to mention a whole pile of poor innocent bastards. Claire had vowed to hunt that bastard for the rest of her days... and just look how that was turning out for her.
Honestly... she had to be the biggest idiot in the whole world, and that was only reaffirmed as she heard the giant-stick girl pound on an apartment door. Claire looked through the closing elevator doors to see the gorgeous stranger knocking on Peter and Emma's door, calling out, "Hey, Sy! It's Mac. Open up!"
The elevator had closed on that note. Claire took a deep breath and slammed her hand onto the emergency stop. Well... if that wasn't just a kick in the nuts. She spent the next 5 minutes yelling her lungs raw as she gave into a tsunami of wicked powerful anger.
What a pile of bullshit! That fucking smirky RAT BASTARD! First First Lady my ass!
Then when she realized she had left her purse, keys and cell phone at Peter's, she pounded her head repeatedly against the wall of the elevator, frustrated beyond any previous imaginings and stuck between a rock and a hard place.
Well... that couldn't possibly have gone any better. Sylar was, to put it mildly, pleased with the way things had turned out. Claire Bennet had... attacked him. That fire in her eyes had almost burned him as she had given into some inner demon and dragged him to her. It had been glorious. Everything was falling into place now.
He honestly couldn't get over the fact that she had been the one to kiss him; the classroom experiment set aside as that business was just an integral part of Lydia's ability. He'd really never imagined their first actual kiss would be Claire's doing.
Fuck yes!
God, and her face as he had closed the door had been PRICELESS.
Keeping Claire off-balance was going to be key in the next few weeks, he knew. After all, her stubborn attitude was one of the best things about Claire. She would walk her path, regardless of what her father, uncle or a general sense of normalcy may dictate. Sylar did believe beyond all else, that together, they balanced each other... he was continuously pulling her toward an inevitable future, while she held close the past and created a sense of placement and reality within a world that was unreal.
Regardless, she would love him, by God... and sooner, rather than later if Sylar had anything to say about it. In the world according to Sylar, their eventual union was fact, and no douchebag was going to sneak in from the sidelines and ruin his eternity. She'd been surprised by his statement of ownership towards her as she left. Sylar really felt she should know better, as though he had been pretty damn clear. No woman except Claire would be acceptable.
And... joy of joys... what a treat the future might hold for him! He had been expecting that Bennet would be dead in the ground long before he would be able to put his true focus on Claire. Oh, the mere thought of Bennet knowing that Sylar was touching his little girl, that was a treat Sylar had resigned himself to missing out on. Now it seemed like he just might get to give Noah Bennet, his own personal life ruiner, the ultimate finger, by fucking his precious Claire-Bear. Additionally, depending on the severity of this whole "kidnapping special people" situation, some video and/or photographical evidence could be some icing on the cake that Sylar might just get to give to his most annoying and manipulative of enemies.
But before he worried about that, he was going to take a few more moments to really appreciate the excellence of his current position. Like water after a journey through the desert, tasting her had been torture in a way, to have everything he wanted at his fingertips, his precious Claire... the only thing he couldn't just take for himself, was trying to say the least. Patience was a virtue that really needed to be cultivated by one particular mass murder for the time being.
She was intense in an incredibly sexy way that he hadn't anticipated. Jesus, just thinking about it had him hard all over again. She obviously had some pent-up issues rumbling around in that psyche that he would enjoy exploring and exploiting. She was just so interesting. How could two people with such similar beginnings come to such different points in such a short time period? She chose to save and hold close all the fragile humans in her life, fighting a battle that she could never hope to win. Sylar knew Claire was the only real constant he could ever hope to hold. His obsession with Claire had really been a cross to bear, an obstacle he thought would take decades to climb... but here he was, in his favorite position... the position of power.
God, he felt fucking amazing right now.
Now it was finally time for a sleep that would put Rip Van Winkle to shame. It was about fuckin' time.
With a shit-eating grin plastered across his face, Sylar headed for the couch. He hadn't taken two steps toward the living room when he heard the knock on the door. Assuming it was Claire, refusing to leave, he was about to head to the couch anyway, politeness be damned. He was going to sleep, goddamnit.
Then he heard, "Sy" he knew it could only be one person before she even said her name. There was only one woman who wasn't so incredibly intimidated by him that she would dare to give him a nickname of all things. Heaving a giant sigh, he turned back towards the door. He knew there was no way Mackenzie Desmond was leaving until she talked to him, her stubbornness was right up there with his own favorite cheerleader. Sylar also knew that Mac wouldn't just show up at Peter and Emma's apartment for nothing... sociable was not the first adjective he would use to describe her. Something was afoot and he just hoped he could take a damn nap before the shit hit the fan.
"I'm being stalked." Mac said without preamble, tossing her bags to the floor with considerable force.
"Christ, Mac," Sylar sighed, Mac had a tendency to be overdramatic... often. Side effect of being a female serial killer, Sylar supposed.
She was rooting around in the ridiculous purple bag, "I'm not messing around about this, dude," she pulled out a huge bottle of water and gulped at it before continuing, "Some dream manipulating asshole. And I'll tell you this Sy, when I find the bastard who's doing this, my vengeance is going to be of biblical proportions."
"Fair. You know I'm a big fan of vengeance, but if you could be a little more coherent, as I am fucking exhausted, it would be much appreciated."
Lifting her hand to brush her stray dark hair out of her face and rolling her eyes, she sighed loudly once before speaking obnoxiously slowly, "Some-one is invading my DREAMS. This is B-A-D!"
"Mac, I'd like to think that you can handle one measly dream playing bitch," he massaged his temples in an attempt to thwart the headache that was brewing. Sylar had seen Mackenzie in action. She was currently being hunted by multiple private and government organizations. This problem should be well within her control. This being a hero thing was turning out to be more trouble than it was worth.
"Listen Grumpy Gus, everyone's gotta sleep. Obviously you are well aware, and I would like to think with your immortality and all you wouldn't be such a little bitch about a little sleep deprivation. I'm in real trouble here," by this point she had pulled a bottle of Jack Daniels and two matching double shot glasses out of her bag and started making her way into the apartment.
Knowing the routine, Sylar trailed tiredly behind, resigning himself to a day that would never end. This is what you get when you make friends, he thought. At the moment, Sylar couldn't remember one reason why he'd wanted any in the first place. At least loners could sleep once and a while! Jeez, what would he do if he had more than two or three friends? God, his head hurt even worse just pondering on that one.
By the time he had reached the kitchen, she had set the glasses on the island and filled them up to the brim. "I'm scared, Sy," for the first time since she had entered the apartment her eyes had gone dark and serious.
She gestured to his glass, which he grabbed and Mac lifted hers in salute, "Cause its not just me in these dreams who's doomed, it's the whole freaking universe."
They knocked the shots back together, and Sylar felt the beautiful burn shoot through his body and she immediately refilled them, continuing as she poured, "It's three or four variations on the same theme, end of the world, end of time, end of everyone and everything, blah, blah, blah."
Throwing another back, she set her glass down, clearly perturbed and huffed loudly, "As much as I don't wanna say this, I think you need to do that stupid creepy memory power on me, as you are wrapped right up in this mess too," she thrust her hand directly in front of his face, "And you don't be poking where you don't belong, buddy!"
Sylar batted her hand out of his face, "You said you never wanted me to do that to you."
His clairsentience had always really freaked Mac out. She'd explained once that she felt that memories should be just for the owner, always. It was one of the very few powers that Mac had put in the category of, "DO NOT ACQUIRE."
"In fact, I seem to remember you threatening disembowelment and dismemberment a thousand times over for my lanky immortal ass... I'm paraphrasing, of course," Sylar rolled his eyes with supreme sarcasm as he filled the glasses again.
Pissed, she dropped her hand. She started mumbling angrily under her breath and rapidly pacing across the kitchen, the echo of her heels pounding out an extreme staccato beat. After four passes by the island she grabbed the shot glass and tossed it back in one motion. "You're really being a pain in the ass, you know."
Sylar tossed his hands into the air, exasperated, "You have always been very clear on this point, Mac. Whatever secret you don't want me to see is still in there, I might stumble on it, I can't guarantee anything with this stupid power," he huffed, pissed at himself for allowing a power to defeat him even in the slightest of ways. Objects retain so many stray and confusing memories, it was even harder to sift through the memories of an actual person with any type of precision.
Sliding his refilled glass towards him she shook her head sadly at him. "I wish there was another option, Sy, I really do. I don't think we can avoid it. There could be clues, information or tones I'm missing."
Sylar tossed back the next shot and for about 5 heartbeats felt slightly drunk. Sylar and Mac had discovered on one epic night that it was in fact possible to get completely wasted, even in the face of immortality. Sylar had been able to discover exactly how quickly their livers were absorbing the alcohol and using the oxidization aspect of a plant manipulation power it was almost too easy to get completely shitfaced in thirty minutes. Quickly throwing another back he braced himself for her anger, "Mac, I'm not going to do it. Sorry, but you fucking told me not to. I made a promise never to invade your privacy like that Mac, you know I don't take my promises lightly."
"Well... I really didn't want to be the messenger for this one, but whatever," back to the shot glass, grimacing this time as it went down, "So the dream manipulator is not the real problem... he's a side quest, if you will. It's his uber creepy boss guy, who's after me... and your precious tattoo-arm-girl."
Sylar felt his whole body go stiff and real fear surge through him, "You're wrong."
Mac rolled her eyes, "Have I ever been wrong about anything?"
"How do you know?"
"I told you, it's all in this fuckin' dream. Now if you would just please watch it so we can figure out what the hell we are gonna do about it, I would really appreciate it."
"Fine," Incredibly angry, and without options, Sylar grabbed her hand and took them both into her memories.