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damned_institute2009-12-16 12:12 am
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Entry tags:
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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!]
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!]
no subject
Sam raised his eyebrows, half intrigued and half surprised. Not so much at the implication of the news; he'd been told plenty of times he was going to go dark-side, and even now, he knew he wasn't exactly home-free. That wasn't just something that disappeared. But her explanation for it? It wasn't ringing as the Antichrist thing Gordon had been going on about. What Dad had been so worried about he spent his dying breath warning Dean about it.
Whatever experience she had with this, it was undeniably quite different from his. But it was close enough at the same time that he couldn't help responding to it.
"I've been told, actually," he began carefully. "Of something similar. I wasn't told in those exact terms, but the gist has always been pretty clear that I might be playing with fire by using what I have."
He didn't know what he was looking for with that. Validation that developing his abilities was the right way to go as opposed to suppressing them and failing dismally the way he had before? From a stranger, no less, which was probably pretty pathetic, and he wasn't sure why he was bothering, anyway. It didn't change that if it meant saving Dean, it was worth the risk. It would always be worth the risk. He'd spent too much of his life playing it safe only to have it thrown in his face in the end.
Still.
no subject
She idly wondered if Sam had ever encountered and Awakened before. Nasty little things, those were (to her). "There are two things that commonly cause an awakening. The first is by overexerting yourself with your powers, desperately wanting to defeat your opponent, throwing your own self-preservation to the wind. Sometimes that is a conscious decision, but usually it is a miscalculation on where your limits are." She still couldn't decide if Priscilla awakened because she miscalculated or id she wanted Teresa's head so badly that she awakened in order to claim it.
"The second is through extreme emotion. That one is far more dangerous than the first as usually, the first gives you enough warning to stave it off long enough for another to take your head." She paused and met Sam's eyes. "There is nothing worse than awakening."
no subject
Switches, Jake had called it. Jake and Ava both. Sam hadn't ever experienced it for himself, hadn't ever wanted to, but he couldn't forget, either, that way back from the start, when he'd been trapped and he'd thought Dean was going to die—there'd been something there. That it probably wasn't the exact same as what Teresa was referring to was beside the point; the fundamental concept was there.
"I'll remember that, then," he replied. "Anyway, I." He tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, stopped just short of clearing his throat. "I shouldn't be taking up any more of your time. Thanks for talking to me, though."
no subject
A pause. "Don't be a stranger."