Day 46: Sun Room

[human-sponge.livejournal.com]

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!]

Comments

[k4t4str0ph4l.livejournal.com]

Schuldig allowed himself to lean against Yohji. There was no Crawford around to disapprove, and maintaining a measure of aloofness for his own pride hardly seemed worth the effort at the moment. What did he have to be proud of? His telepathy had defined his life, and now it was nearly inaccessible, borderline useless. He was useless.

At least, when he focused, he could hear Yohji's thoughts to a degree. It was better than nothing, certainly, but compared to the advantages he had before, it hardly seemed much more useful than reading someone's facial expressions - something anyone with half a brain could do.

"Something's wrong with my telepathy," he said flatly, though he kept his voice low - that wasn't the sort of information he wanted getting around. Part of him didn't even want to tell Yohji, but it was too important to hide from someone who expected him to be able to do certain things...and Yohji knew German, so he could always read it on the bulletin board where Schuldig had told Artemis, too. "I'm straining just to hear you."

[never-learns.livejournal.com]

He smoothed his hand down Schuldig's side lightly, keeping an eye out for nurses who might object to this. They could be remarkably uptight about this kind of thing. He didn't understand why they bothered pretending it was a real hospital anyway, that they wouldn't just go and do whatever they wanted during the night. None of this place made any sense though. He wasn't sure why he should expect it to in any way.

He had to lean in a little closer to hear Schuldig speak but what he heard made him pale slightly, eyebrows knotting together as he frowned. "What happened?" he asked in a soft voice. "They... they didn't take you again, did they?"

[k4t4str0ph4l.livejournal.com]

"A monster," he replied, not without some bitterness. To have been brought so low by something that looked as though it had come out of one of Masafumi's horror shows was almost insulting. "It blasted me with lightning - Arty thinks it's brain damage, of all things, though I suppose it doesn't make much difference what the cause is."

Privately, Schuldig was hoping - though he wasn't allowing himself much hope, because his luck in the institute had been practically nonexistent and there was no point in putting much faith in it now - that perhaps this was just another of the institute's random tricks, that he might wake up the next morning to his powers restored at least back to what had become the standard here. But no one else was complaining of suddenly malfunctioning abilities on the bulletin board, so chalking it up to another case of institute-wide random phenomena seemed like a long shot.

[never-learns.livejournal.com]

A monster had done this? Brain damage? His arms tightened around Schuldig, pulling him closer in concern. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, wishing that there was something that he could do to help. Schuldig relied so much on his telepathy, it must have been like losing sight of hearing or a limb. He couldn't really imagine it or know if his comparisons were anywhere near the mark. And it was weird, thinking that Schuldig wouldn't know what he was thinking anymore. He'd always known that he couldn't hide from the telepath and now?

"Maybe it'll be back tomorrow. Like people when they believed this place." Like Ken.

[k4t4str0ph4l.livejournal.com]

"I know what you're thinking," Schuldig replied, with a trace of dark amusement. "But right now I can only hear you. And then - only if I make an effort. So if you need me from now on, you're going to have to come get me."

That was a more pressing concern than he'd ever expected; that Artemis or Yohji might need his help and he wouldn't be able to hear them and know about it in time to do anything. Even though the alarm was entirely selfish - he needed things they had to offer him, both concrete and subjective, and so he needed to make sure nothing happened to them - he still never would have thought the fate of anyone who wasn't Schwarz would matter to him this much(or at all). It suggested that he really had changed, and in ways he wasn't comfortable with...dependent, human ways.

Ways that, discomfort or not, he couldn't really bring himself to give up. Especially since his problems had only increased with the loss of so much of his telepathy, and the last thing he needed was to chase off the few allies he'd completely won over.

At Yohji's suggestion, he couldn't quite keep himself from glancing up in surprise; it wasn't often that he felt as though someone had read his mind. "Maybe," he said finally, with a slight snort. "But I wouldn't bank on it with my luck."