Adventures of Matt Parkman, Chapter 13: Tranquility
It wasn't until afterwards that Matt realized he was in a bit of a pickle. If possession worked like most other expressions of telepathy, then he had a certain range on it. If he tried to take Ryan's body further than that range from Matt's body, then… something bad might happen. Hopefully he'd just get jerked back into Matt. Hopefully.
He supposed the other passable alternative was getting stuck in Ryan's body - not something he really wanted, despite the rousing sex he'd just had. It wasn't his body and he felt that as surely as Sylar had known that he wasn't where he was really supposed to be. The most remote possibility, but the most frightening, was that he'd just be out there, untethered, essentially dead. He wasn't about to risk that no matter how unlikely he thought it was.
If he transferred back, he wasn't sure what shape Ryan would be in. He might be able to operate him remotely, but that had been very difficult before. The kid might do something extreme like soil himself or start sobbing or shaking or something else embarrassing. He didn't want to risk that either.
The thought occurred to him because he'd told Patricia he'd give her a ride afterwards, but now it was afterwards and he couldn't leave without dragging Matt's body along like some outtake from Weekend at Bernie's. She'd probably notice. She'd probably object. So his options were telling her to go find a ride on her own, which was uncharitable, especially given their intimacy, or use his ability on her and make her look the other way.
He supposed there was a third option. He could tell her the truth. He knew he did, eventually, somehow. Maybe now? He'd had sex with her, which he'd also known would happen. Well… if it goes badly, I can always block her from remembering it, or at least talking to anyone about it.
He was sitting next to her, as the cabin benches hadn't been wide enough for a safe lateral position. She'd sat on his lap and was now at his side, snuggled under his arm again, her hand trailing up and down his thigh. He volunteered, "You know, I can read minds."
She laughed. "Yeah." She didn't think anything else of it, dismissing him immediately.
It annoyed Matt. "No, really. Think of something and I'll tell you what it is."
"That's silly. Stop it." She sounded displeased. She stopped stroking his leg. She didn't intend to play along, but her mind brought up an image nonetheless.
"The Eiffel Tower." That threw him for a second and reminded him of Daphne. He shook it off and listened to Patty's thoughts. A moment later he added, "Big Ben. The Kremlin. The White House. This boat."
She leaned up and out from under his arm, staring at him.
"Now you're afraid of me. Now you're starting to believe me. Now you're thinking of what I could do with this, how I could make money at it and blackmail people."
Her mouth fell open slightly.
He smiled. "I can tell people to do what I want and they do it. Jay and El and Brandon never saw me before today. I told Jay and El we were old friends and they believed me. I didn't use it on you though." His voice softened and he reached out to touch her face. She shut her mouth, letting him touch her. He smiled, answering her thought, "Because you're pretty and I wanted to be with you without making you do it. It's not… I don't…" He dropped his hand and looked away, sitting up straighter.
"You don't want to… rape… people?"
He nodded.
"How would I know?"
He looked back at her and smirked. "Yeah, I suppose that's the catch." His smirk fell and he frowned. "You wouldn't. Only me. No one else can ever really be sure." He shrugged. "Well, I know. That's all that matters. I didn't hurt you, did I? You wanted to do that?"
He looked at her intently and was pleased with what he saw. She didn't nod, considering her motivations and trying to imagine what it felt like for him to make her do it against her will. She began to not believe him again, then ran through what he'd said of reading her mind. She couldn't reconcile how accurate it was. He watched her thinking it out. Finally she pushed it aside and said, "That cop in there… what did you do to him? Just tell him to sleep?"
Ryan's body smiled. "No. That's… that's actually my real body. This is just a kid I…" He sighed. "He's nobody. No one's going to miss him." He felt sort of bad about that. He'd had a phone call earlier, but he'd ignored it.
She was eyeing him. "What… How can I believe that? It's…" She shook her head.
He shrugged and stood up, getting himself dressed again. He went to the head to relieve himself, in case Ryan reacted as badly to the swap as he suspected. When he got out, she'd dressed as well.
"I'm going to switch back to my body, which is that cop in there. This guy… He's a basket case without me directing him. He might react a little strongly. Just don't get too close to him. He'll remember being with you, but he knows it wasn't him doing it."
She looked torn between disgust, disbelief and curiosity. He walked into the bedroom and rolled himself over. He put his hands on either side of Matt Parkman's face, concentrating on the transfer. It was much easier… much, much easier when he wasn't being tossed on the ocean. He kept a grip on Ryan's body throughout, but the man still made a whimper when he was done.
Matt waited, sitting up slowly. Patty was at the doorway, watching intently. She'd turned on the light, but it was still dim. Parkman was waiting to see if Ryan would achieve some semblance of consciousness or normal mentality. He didn't. He was afraid, but he didn't know of what. He didn't know where he was. His mind had no linkage between his perceptions and his thoughts. He couldn't express his thoughts. He was like a man without a language, an infant. He had feelings, but no communication, not even to himself.
Matt pulled his mind away finally, not sure what the young man would do with himself. Ryan looked around uneasily and sank to the floor, sitting. He curled slightly in on himself, but he wasn't tense. His breath caught a few times spasmodically. Tears ran silently down his face. He sat there, staring off into the distance. The fear faded into nothingness.
"What's wrong? Is that normal?" Patricia asked.
"I don't know," Matt answered honestly. There was no reason to lie. Parkman bent and took Ryan's chin, turning his head to look at him. The man looked back at him evenly, slowly focusing on him. There was no fear, no hate and no anger. There was sadness and nothing else - no explanation for his feelings, no thoughts, no rationalizations, no plans or expectations. He didn't answer Matt's projected thoughts, though Parkman could feel his mind paying attention to them, just as his eyes had focused on his face. He wasn't reacting, wasn't making sense of things, though he wasn't even confused by it. He was just empty.
Matt released him, watching as the guy's head swung down slowly and he stared off again. "I think I hurt him real bad," he said softly.
"Why? He wasn't like this when you got on the ship." She stepped in and knelt next to Ryan, giving Matt an intent look and doubting that he was the same person she'd just made love to. She shook Ryan - he was the man she had held, the one she'd kissed. He lifted his head and looked at her, recognizing her face and remembering a tiny fragment of pleasure with her. Matt's brows twitched at that. There was something in there, still in him, even if it was on an almost animalistic level.
She said to him, "Hello? Ryan? Say something!" She shook him harder, then again violently as he didn't react to the first time. She shook him a third time, almost desperate for a response from him and he lashed out at her, slapping her hard across the face. She fell back, surprised. He stared at her, then let his hand fall as if as an afterthought. He frowned, and his thoughts drifted back into an unhappy tranquility. He'd hit her because he was being attacked and he didn't like it. There was no conscious thought about it - even that had been nothing but a passing urge.
Patricia picked herself up, looking at him warily. "What's wrong with… him?" She looked at Matt, beginning to believe what he had told her was real.
"I hurt him. When I transferred into him, I was seasick. Guess I shouldn't do it while I'm seasick." Matt reached out and touched the kid's head, making him snap it upward and sit up a little straighter so it was easier to touch him. Parkman ran through his physical functions. They all seemed fine. He was just… empty. Matt released him and shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe he'll get better." He scratched at his left palm. The bandages were getting ragged. "I was going to give you a ride?"
"Yeah." She eyed Ryan warily.
Matt stood up. "I can just leave him here and come back to get him later. He's… he probably won't go anywhere." Matt wondered if he would still take commands. He looked at the boy and thought to him, Stand up! To his surprise, the man did, drawing from Matt's command his intention and desire, doing so more smoothly and flawlessly now than he had when his personality had been intact. There was no resistance. Ryan stood. That will make things a lot easier, Matt thought. "Or… he can come with us. He'll do what I tell him to do."
She swallowed, looking at Ryan's vacant expression. She weighed her fear against the possibilities of having such power over others. She stepped up to Ryan, looking up into his face, searching between his eyes. He looked back at her blankly, without reaction. She turned, only a quarter turn in the limited space, and looked into Matt's face. She studied him the same way, but he met her eyes, his expressions responded to hers, he was alive, aware and attentive. She kissed him, putting her arms around his neck.
It surprised even him, as she hadn't been thinking about what she was doing beyond trying to decide if any of it was true. He kissed her back immediately, as she was something his subconscious mind already knew, was already familiar with, because he would be soon and hadn't yet.
A/N: I am reminded of a cat we tried to rescue once, that I found hiding under a projection of our house in St. Paul. It was the dead of winter and I was concerned the animal would freeze to death, so I tried to get it out. I knew the moment I laid my hands on it that it was too late. It was cold, too cold to live. I've handled baby chicks before who were exposed and birds are much, much more resilient than mammals. This cat was gone, even if it wasn't frozen yet. I knew that, intellectually, but I took it inside anyway and put it next to the heater and looked it over. It began to move, opening its eyes and moving its legs slowly. At first I was amazed - I thought there was hope. I coddled the critter, tried to help it along, but then I realized it wasn't getting any better, it wasn't responding to outside stimulation. It was just… moving, by itself. We wrapped it up and took it to an emergency vet, but they told us what I already knew - the cat was dead. The motions were only autonomic reactions and there was no telling how many hours the body had been functioning at such a low level, struggling along, long after the brain had effectively died.
Ryan's not quite that bad now, but he might as well be.