damned_institute | Day 46: Sun Room

Peter woke up suddenly, his body twisting in the bed and then forcing him to catch his breath in pain. Pain, which was coming from his middle because of the thing that had scratched him last night, and after that...

After that, Zach had jumped in front of him like some kind of martyr, like the exact opposite of everything Sylar stood for, to take the next hit for him. It got pretty fuzzy after that, so night must have ended right around then.

The man let out a pained grunt as he straightened himself up in bed. For some reason, he got the feeling that he'd slept in. There was no way for him to really tell without a window in the room, but he just knew. The fact that Sam's bed looked long since vacated was another clue.

Sam, but was he Sam again? Had the brainwashing worn off, as he and Roland had hoped, or was he going to have to go through this nightmare for even longer? He didn't know how long he could handle "Zach" and "Harrison" before he started going batty himself.

Pulling himself out of bed, Peter lifted his shirt and saw that he was tightly bandaged. The scratch most likely wasn't nearly as bad as the bite that "Zach" had received, but it still smarted. He let his shirt fall and then had to deal with a nurse chiding him for sleeping through the morning announcements. Not that Peter really cared at the moment. He was too busy thinking about last night and the fact that in a way, he now owed something to Sylar. Except it hadn't been Sylar. That was something he was sure of now.

Lost in his thoughts, Peter reached the Sun Room right as the rest of the patient populace was trickling in from breakfast. Sighing to himself, he headed over to the bulletin board and then saw a note written in familiar yet unpleasant handwriting. Holding his pen in a vice grip, Peter scribbled out a reply and then stalked over to an armchair and fell into it with a huff.

While Sylar was maddeningly frustrating, there was one good thing about the fact that he was himself again. It meant that Nathan was too.

[For Spock!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Hi there, Remy! Tell me about Paris!]

Rika smiled in Hanyuu's direction as she walked into the Sun Room. She didn't want to worry her right now, but at least seeing her helped a little.

Now...to worry about Greta. She had already silently decided that she would watch over the older girl as much as she could. Rika still wasn't entirely sure of the connection between the witch and the redhead, but anything where the witch was involved couldn't be good.

With that decided, she composed her features into a shy smile. She could use a little cheering up, and was hoping to make a new friend.

As the nurse escorted Remy into the sunroom, he thought about Meche. She seemed nice... nicer, actually, than most of the humans he had met when he was back in Paris. Everyone was being nice to him so far, and he didn't know how to feel. It was almost suspicious; he didn't think any of these people would do anything but try to kill him if they knew he was a rat.

"Here, Nicolas," the nurse said, careful to pronounce the name correctly -- Nee-co-lah -- and therefore sounding a little bit stilted. "Why don't you talk to Rachel?"

'Rachel' was a young girl, much smaller than this new body of his, but still much bigger than he would have been in his own skin. He gave her a look that was both friendly and awkward.

Hey, he was happy to sit anywhere that wasn't near one of those cats.

"So, Rachel," he said, once the nurse had puttered away, "how long have you been here?" And were you a doll or a monkey or something before that? From what Scarecrow had told him, it wasn't an unreasonable question, but it might lead to him having to answer things he didn't want to answer.

Rika smiled at the gentleman who sat down next to her. He seemed a little nervous. She might normally give someone a pat on the head or on the arm, but not someone she didn't know.

"Hi - " she stumbled over the French pronunciation, then laughed in embarrassment. "I'm sorry if I messed up your name. I really didn't mean to." She bowed her head a little, clearly apologetic.

"And I'm Rika. Rachel's just what the nurses call me. And...yesterday was my first day here. I'm still getting used to things. It's really different from the small town where I'm from." A 'mii' slipped out with that last word, but she couldn't say she minded.

"That's all right. Nicolas's not my name, either... I don't know why they're calling me that, but they won't stop. My name is Remy."

Another weird thing, when she bowed her head... that was so strange, coming from a human. Sometimes they were more respectful than he expected; actually, everyone here had been, so far. It didn't make sense to him that this was supposed to be a bad place.

"You're from a place called 'Me'? I've never heard of it... is it in France? This guy I talked to last night didn't think we were in France. And I have to agree with him: this is nothing like Paris.

"So what's Me like?"

"It's one of the things that they do around here," Rika explained. "They give everyone a fake name. I don't know why they do it, either, Remy. It's kind of annoying..."

She couldn't help smiling a little at the mistake - it was an easy one to make, she guessed, but she'd have to be a little careful not to let it slip too much. "Sorry! It's actually a town called Hinamizawa, in Japan. I just kind of say 'mii' sometimes. It slips out without my even noticing," she said, with a bright smile.

"But, wow, Paris! I've seen it on TV, but never met anyone from there," she said, an excited sparkle in her eyes. "My town is tiny in comparison - it's out in the country, and there are only about 2000 people that live there. It's really peaceful, though."

"Well, maybe I just won't answer to it," Remy replied, with a definite scheming note in his tone. "Maybe they'll call us what we want them to call us, if they can't get our attention with anything else."

Then it occurred to him: that might be a one-way ticket back to Rats-ville... or worse. "Or maybe not," he rushed to add, as a hint of the color drained from his complexion. He decided it would be a good time for a topic change.

"I came from a town about that big originally," he said, thinking of the colony, "Paris is big, though. I work in a restaurant there... have you heard of Gusteau's?" His expression was happy, even eager.

He was hesitant to ask how far away Japan might be; it was the kind of gap in his knowledge that he couldn't afford to expose too often, and he knew it wasn't exactly close to Paris. But Gusteau was famous. He had been the best chef in the world; it seemed possible that his fame might have carried that far.

Rika giggled. "I'm not answering to it unless I have to," she answered, a playful tone in her voice. "There's always pretending we can't hear it." Then she noted that change in his expression, and decided the change in topic would be for the best.

"So you moved from the country to the city, Remy?" That had come up from time to time at home. Even Rena-chan had moved from Hinamizawa to Ibaraki, though she had come back. "That's a big change. I can't imagine making one like that."

She couldn't remember the name offhand, but...even she knew Paris was famous for having a lot of really good restaurants and things, even if she wouldn't be able to travel there herself once she was back home. The thought made her just a little sad, but it was something she had accepted.

"I think I saw something on television about it once! Wow, working somewhere that even gets on TV. That's awesome!"

"Yeah. It wasn't exactly planned... it was kind of..." (he crossed his arms in front of him, folding them over his chest) "... an emergency."

One which had been his fault, more or less, but there was no need to admit that right now. It seemed like a long time ago, and besides, it was all an accident anyway. His overall demeanor became mildly sheepish as he remembered it.

"I saw something about Gusteau on television, too, when I lived on the farm. And we -- " (the old lady) " -- had a copy of his book, Anyone Can Cook. Do they sell that in Hina-... in Japan?" He was overtaken by a spot of false modesty. "Working there, well, you know how it is. It's a job. But it's a good place, if you care about food."

The fact that he was talking to a young girl, one who very likely did not know how it was to have a job, seemed to have escaped him.

Day 46: Sun Room

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