Day 43: Courtyard, Third Shift

[oftemptation.livejournal.com]

Once again, Endrance's nurse interfered with his plans. He had been planning to look around the Game Room, but the moment he began to move towards the Sun Room, she had taken him by the arm. "Your family has asked that we make sure you get as much fresh air and sunshine has possible, and you won't get that by staying inside playing video games all day."

He had thought for a moment about protesting, but decided against it. After all, if what had happened to Haseo was punishment for having spoken too strongly the day before, he didn't want to make that worse somehow. So, when given the choice of going out to the recreational field or the courtyard, he chose the latter.

There were a few reasons behind the decision, the most salient being that he wanted to see what the area looked like for a second time - this time without the threat of a brainwashed patient surprising him. The second reason was just as strong as the first, and it had to do with the presence of a second former Demon Palace Emperor. As energetic as she was normally in The World, he couldn't imagine Alkaid not wanting to spend some time outside.

Just as before, he sat down under a tree by the side of the pond, keeping one eye on the door.

[closed to Alkaid]

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[darwinism]

Sylar hit the bulletin board as soon as he was able, intending to find out just what exactly had happened last night (or at least what people were theorizing about it). While he did find a useful transcript of what had happened over the intercom while almost everyone had been fighting for their lives back in town, he'd also found an anonymous note left specifically for him.

Someone from the Courtyard altercation. Just what he needed, and the bastard refused to even give their name. He wondered whether or not he'd agree to the damn meeting they were proposing, and if he did, if it'd just be to relieve some frustration... and maybe do a little experimenting. He was curious about how much he could do with his newfound electricity, and if this guy was offering himself up as a test subject... well, Sylar wasn't about to question it.

Still, the message only reminded him of the abilities he had wielded that night, and the lingering migraine from his last, minor surge of power only reinforced the feeling of uselessness that had been pervading his thoughts from the moment he'd first woken up here. He hated the feeling and he wanted to shake it off – fast – especially when his talk with the Faize kid had reminded him that pursuing other, more unfamiliar forms of power use might prove very fruitful.

So he headed to the Courtyard, the place where he'd last felt like his true, whole self. The air was crisper here, anyway, and did wonders for his headache despite the increase in light, and he found himself standing in the shade of a tree as he mulled over his thoughts in ways he generally didn't like to. His eyes wandered over the area, remembering how it'd looked in the light of his radioactivity and reflective ice, how it'd felt to pin the cheerleader down, to finally cut her open, to be seconds away from taking her power, when Peter Petrelli had ruined it all.

Sylar scowled as his eyes found the back of some blonde girl around the cheerleader's height. It wasn't doing much good for his mood, and–

Wait.

Sylar's eyes widened as he caught a glimpse of the girl's profile. A smirk slowly grew on his face as he pushed himself off the tree and began walking towards her as casually as any other patient roaming the area.

She was alone. No Peter or Daddy to protect her now.

He stopped a few feet behind her and sighed as he stared at the back of her head. To think that inside this little girl's head was the key to escaping death, to becoming invincible. So close and yet so far.

"You really shouldn't go off on your own, Claire," he said, shaking his head like an admonishing parent. "You never know who could be skulking about."

[instaheal.livejournal.com]

Claire tensed at the voice. Even without turning around, she knew who it was.

But no. No. How Why It couldn't be-- had he followed her? What else could he possibly want from her, or had he just come here to gloat?

Maybe she could run (if she was fast enough), or fight him off (if she was strong enough) but she'd tried both options before and they hadn't worked. There was hospital staff everywhere, and Claire briefly considered going to them for help, but getting anyone else involved would only get them killed. No one was going to help her. She was alone.

She slowly turned to face him, not sure what she was going to say or do, until her fear was overshadowed by another feeling.

Hatred.

She hated him. She hated him. She wanted to take the nearest rock and bash it into his skull, see how he liked feeling helpless and exposed and violated. How he'd like it if she just flipped a switch in his head, so he'd never feel anything again.

"What do you want?" she spat, not about to give him the satisfaction of seeing her scared.

[darwinism]

Sylar relished seeing the muscles of her shoulders tense, hear her breath draw sharply, see her wide, frightened eyes as she turned to look at the stuff of nightmares. Sylar's smirk widened as he lowered his head and made eye contact with the girl who'd always gotten away, whose blood had been meant to heal him, whose brain was meant to teach him. She was alive, which he guessed was the point, but she was still a little girl. She was still afraid of the boogeyman.

Over her, he still had power.

Even as her expression turned angry, as she spoke like she had anything to back herself up, Sylar's smug expression didn't falter. Anger was just a product of fear, and her reactions told him that even if she thought she was being brave, it was only the irrationality of cornered prey. Her mood was compromised because of him, controlled by his presence. Sylar hadn't felt so alive in a very long time.

"You know what I want, Claire," Sylar replied softly as he approached her, feeling stronger with each step, more confident, more himself. "Of course, you don't seem to want to share it with anyone."

He narrowed his eyes and clicked his tongue.

"Such a selfish girl."

[instaheal.livejournal.com]

She felt sick with each step he took towards her. Despite her front, Claire found herself backing up, wanting to keep the distance between them. Inwardly she cursed herself for it; she was supposed to be brave now, she was supposed to show him (show everyone) that she wasn't so helpless.

She was supposed to be able to take care of herself, not be the victim.

Claire's mind was still racing-- if there was only something around here suitable enough to use as a weapon, some way to distract him and get away... but she just couldn't think clearly. As angry was she was, she couldn't help that she was still very afraid, and it sickened her even more that he knew it, that he was liking it.

"You got what you wanted," she reminded him. What was he doing? Did her power just not take to him? No, that couldn't be it, he'd healed the knife wound right in front of her.

Maybe he was just trying to mess with her. If this was some kind of game to him, she wasn't in the mood to play.

[darwinism]

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," Sylar replied, enunciating each syllable with slow exaggeration as he made his way towards her. He made a point of his casual demeanor, his complete lack of concern towards anything she could try to do to him: he glanced at the sky, the grass, ran his hand against the rough bark of a tree as he passed by it. He hadn't felt this kind of leisure since before he'd come to this place, and her desperate attempts to get him to leave her alone were ill-conceived at best and pathetic at worst. Besides, as much as he would have liked to, attacking her right now wouldn't get him anywhere during the daytime.

There was something that bothered him about the situation, something that didin't click between the Courtyard situation that night and the Courtyard situation right now. Whatever it was, though, it wasn't major enough for Sylar to be truly concerned, and he finally looked towards her, his eyes narrowed, sharply.

"Trying to fool me? I thought you were smarter than that by now."

[instaheal.livejournal.com]

Something about this wasn't right. Why was he wasting so much time talking? Why wasn't he attacking her like before? It could be that he didn't want to draw too much attention to them, but something just didn't add up.

"What are you talking about?" she demanded, confusion seeping through her tone. "You came into my house, you..." she couldn't bring herself to finish the thought.

Wait. Did he really just not remember? That had to be it. There was no reason to pretend otherwise, after all, and that only meant one thing.

The Haitian. Her father must have caught up to him, must have wiped the memory of what he did. Claire wasn't sure how she felt about that-- on the one hand, he couldn't gloat about what he'd done, but a larger part of her wanted him to remember. Getting revenge just wouldn't feel the same otherwise.

His outfit was the same as hers, too. Was he posing as a patient, or did he get stuck here just as she did?

She folded her arms, trying her very best to look intimidating although she wasn't very (it didn't help when you were barely over 5 feet tall), and said, "I guess my father just got to you first."

[darwinism]

"Your father," Sylar shot back, leaning down to meet her nearly eye-to-eye, "stopped me from getting what I deserved."

He remembered that day, when he'd escaped from the company facility and had made it all the way to the Bennet house, had talked and played pretend with "Noah's" oblivious wife. He'd been just about to get some revenge for those two weeks in a glass cage when the bastard had busted in with that Haitian goon of his and chased Sylar away from his invaluable catch. Bennet had somehow even been here to keep Sylar separated from the cheerleader, though now that he thought about it, he hadn't seen Super Daddy around in a while...

Claire's back was nearing the wall. He almost had her cornered, and though he couldn't do anything right now, this was still very, very good for his mental health.

[instaheal.livejournal.com]

Claire felt her back bump against the wall as she tried to avoid his face being too close to hers. This could have been it, he had her cornered, helpless, he could do whatever he wanted, but...

I couldn't kill you, even if I wanted to.

She was completely at his mercy and he hadn't so much as lifted a finger. No matter what his reasons where, it made her feel a little more in control. He'd already done his worst to her and she survived-- and now she was going to make him pay for what he did.

"You deserve to die," she growled. "And I'm going to be the one to kill you." Regardless whether or not he took the threat seriously, she meant it. She'd spend her whole life trying to kill him, if it came to that.

[darwinism]

Sylar let out a laugh, sharp and scornful. When he looked back to her, his grin was even wider than before.

"You, Claire? Kill me? Oh, I seriously doubt it."

Her back was against the wall, which meant that he could escalate to a whole new level of intimidation. He leaned one hand onto the wall beside her and reached forward with the other, following it with longing eyes as he trailed a finger across the middle of her forehead with a feather's lightness.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

"No, no," he said in a low, steady murmur, "what's going to happen is I'm going to take your power. I'm going to wear it as my own, and then, nothing else will matter."

[instaheal.livejournal.com]

It was like watching a dam break. Any attempt to keep her brave, tough front was lost the closer he got to her. She couldn't stop thinking of being trapped, unable to breathe, as Meredith taunted her.

Was this what it was like with Sylar?

No, no, no, she was going to fight back now, she was strong, she...

Did he make you feel trapped?

He was close now, far too close and there was no room to run, and he was touching her and...

...Why do you wanna stop bad guys?

She slapped his hand away, her breathing now heavier than it had been before. Claire felt herself start to shake, but she wasn't quite sure whether it was from fear or anger. "I'll kill you," she said again, her voice raising. Her adrenaline was pumping, and she didn't care about the consequences anymore, so she shoved him now in an attempt to gain some distance. "I'll kill you!"

[darwinism]

He could see the panic slowly rise in her pretty blue eyes, hear her breaths quicken and then stop altogether. He anticipated her explosion of anger but he didn't try to stop it: instead, he let his arm go limp as she thrust it away and laughed even as he staggered backwards from her surprisingly powerful shove. He couldn't help it: she was so predictable, so adorable. So fun.

"You know," Sylar said, and this time, his tone was more contemplative than derisive, "maybe you will."

Maybe she would survive his "methods" to fight another day and maybe he wouldn't care. Maybe, if she gave him this much of a reaction to a few well-placed words, she was worth keeping alive for entertainment.

He took a step backward. He'd done what he'd meant to; anything more would give her the impression that she had the upper hand, and that simply wasn't the case.

"Well," he said with a smirk, "it won't matter because by the time you do? I'll just come back."

With a wave, he turned around and made his way towards the main section of the Courtyard.