Night 50: M21-M30 Hallway

[toxicspiderman]

O.K., what had made it back with him. Pipe, flashlight, toolbox? All present and accounted for. The kit had a few new dents in it, courtesy of one exploding lab bench, but the hinges still open and shut. He didn't need it tonight. A bottle of mixed pharmaceuticals extracted from it was enough in case something tried to eat them or Scarecrow's

Comments

M27

[dual_worlds]

Spock checked his desk for signs of the mysterious item Martin Landel had referenced, but there was no ring. If it was true that every group received a ring, then he could assume that theirs had gone to Dr. McCoy. He would have to wait until tomorrow to verify that, however. Kirk's orders on the bulletin were clear: to further investigate the second floor. Spock couldn't say he approved of the manner in which he'd gone about issuing the order, seeing how it had given little time for them to assemble their own reconnaissance groups. Consequently, it was apparent he would have to either conduct his activities alone, or locate patients who were willing to work with him

M27

[7_to_midnight]

Sylar spent the grand majority of dinner shift not eating, but instead laying on his crummy bed with one crummy arm over his eyes. This served two purposes: one, it helped out with the damn aching that seemed to have stuck to the back of his eyes since last night, and two, it made it a little easier to avoid Spock. Not that Spock was exactly pushy: he seemed to do his usual dainty eating and terse leaving just fine without Sylar getting involved

M26

[broodings]

It was cold when Stefan awoke - strange in the midst of summer, stranger still in contrast to the rushing fires of his dream (moving and receding before him, as though they were alive) - and he sat up slowly, confusion clouding his head. He'd woken up to this dullness before. For almost a century and a half, Stefan had risen every morning feeling less than awake, less than complete, with the knowledge that each day only brought more of the same. Hunger and guilt, longing and regret.

Elena had changed that. By instinct, Stefan looked for her beside him in the bed, but wherever he was, it wasn't home. And this sluggishness, he realized, wasn't just in his half-asleep thoughts (how did he get here?), but also his body. He'd experienced weakening by vervain just a couple of weeks ago, and weakening by hunger, or just... being able to compare the paucity of his usual diet against the high that came with imbibing human blood. He was far too familiar with the sensation of suddenly feeling slower, weaker... but even on the animal diet, he

Re: M26

[broodings]

His situation became no clearer as Stefan stepped out into a dark, silent hallway outside his room. A row of identical doors lined one long wall of the closed corridor, like a dormitory or - as he eyed the grimy tile under the rubber soles of his borrowed shoes - a hospital. His shoulders tensed automatically at the realization. If he could help it, Stefan tended to avoid hospitals, unable to completely trust himself when bleeding wounds and blood banks were involved. Especially now, so soon after falling off the wagon, after everything he'd done...

But then, the reason he'd let himself go out into the Founders' Day crowds was because he trusted himself to be able to control his hunger. Because Elena believed he could. Elena. It was at her behest that he'd left her with John Gilbert, and at the time, he hadn't been thinking far beyond the unexpected fear of losing his brother. One nod from her was all the encouragement he'd needed to run after Damon - if he'd been a little more careful, if he'd taken the time to wonder what John had

Re: M26

[broodings]

[to here]