for writers_muses: disquieted
Nov. 21st, 2009 11:19 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
heroslayerLingering outside of Samuel's trailer, he couldn't help but shake the feeling that he shouldn't be here. He couldn't quite say why, only that he was sure it was for reasons greater than the nightmares he'd been having about killing Samuel in cold blood, but he couldn't shake it. He didn't belong here, hovering on the barker's doorstep. Maybe he would later, maybe after he'd finished the chores he'd put off to come here in the first place, but not right now.
He took a deep breath, trying to fight the feeling -- he needed to see Samuel, to take steps to reclaim his lost past -- but it still wouldn't leave him. He shot a glance over his shoulder, back towards where the rest of the family was starting to gather for the morning, tempted to join them, and shook his head. No, weird feeling or not, he needed to do this now. Who knew if he'd manage to get a free moment with the other man later or if he wouldn't talk himself out of his want to talk about this, if and when he managed to pull him aside.
Another deep breath, teeth clenched in determination, and he headed up the steps, one hand falling to the frame of the door, the other raising to knock on it. Something made him stop short. Tilting his head to one side, he strained his senses in an effort to place it, and suddenly he could make out voices on the other side of the door, vaguely distorted but still audible above the snapping of a film reel.
That, he figured, explained why he'd felt as though he wasn't welcome here. Maybe he'd heard Samuel putting the film in place -- he had so many abilities that he was hardly aware of them all half the time, yet still they functioned without him. Maybe it had been something else, some other ability working for him, but either way he figured power had something to do with awareness. And awareness lead to insatiable curiosity, so he took a half-step back down the stairs, still struggling to hear.
The voices -- voice, singular -- came to him without effort suddenly.
"This is Doctor Chandra Suresh and this is entry number four. Coyote Sands Relocation Center, March 5th, 1961. I've been trying to alert the authorities here to the potential danger of gathering so many persons with abilities in one location. My concern centers around an apparent force, small but measurable, that eminates from all such individuals. When two or more of these forces approximate -- "
Without warning, the voice died and the door to Samuel's trailer was opening, the barker himself looming over him, scowling. It took all of his will power to avoid sending the other man flying back into the room out of sheer surprise.
"Sylar."
He balled his hands into fists as his side, the grating under his feet suddenly far more interesting. "I'm sorry. I didn't need to bother you. I just -- I need help."
He could feel Samuel's eyes cold on him. "What kind of help?"
"I want to remember," he answered, still unable to look up at him. "I need to -- I need to wake up from this nightmare -- but I don't think I can do it on my own. What your friend did, it didn't help. It didn't stick. What I saw was just facts; nothing stayed with me. Nothing made any sense."
Wetting his lips with his tongue, Samuel's expression softened marginally, and he padded down the steps so that he could lay a hand on Sylar's shoulder. "If that's what you really want, I'll find a way to make it happen. What was taken from you, we can get it back. Just have a little faith."
"It's what I want."
A pause, and then his expression shifted into something more curious. He knew that what he was about to ask was most likely a bad idea given Samuel's reaction, turning off the film faster than a kid pulling his hand out of the cookie jar when caught by his mother, but he couldn't help it. Something -- the name, maybe -- had struck a chord with him for more than just the fact that whoever had been on that film shared a surname with Mohinder. Something had stuck with him, just like Mohinder calling him Zane had, and he couldn't let it go.
And so, slowly, he looked up at Samuel. "Can I -- who was that? On what you were watching?"
Ice descended back into Samuel's expression sharply, and he took a step back, hand falling away from his shoulder as he retreated to loom over him again. He looked on the edge of violence, and Sylar looked away. "He's no one. No one you need concern yourself or anyone else with."
It wouldn't have taken a rocket scientist to hear the threat in his voice. "Right. Sorry, I just ... "
"Have chores you should be doing," Samuel finished sharply, gesturing away from him, widely. "Go on now. I'll start looking into getting your memories back -- your real memories."
Nodding, Sylar retreated down the stairs hastily, making a beeline for the open space between the living area and the carnival proper to do as Samuel had ordered. Not that his thoughts would be particularly devoted to moving bags of trash from the cans to the dumpster. He was too concerned with what had been said on the film, why Samuel was trying to keep it so tightly under wraps, and how much it would cost him to ask Mohinder who Chandra was. He may have had nine lives if his curiosity killed him, but he wasn't so sure about Mohinder, and out of everything he'd seen and heard today, that unsettled him the most.
Muse: Gabriel Gray (Sylar)
Fandom: Heroes
Word Count: 974
Note: Samuel is![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
offering_hope and is all mine to use and abuse.
He took a deep breath, trying to fight the feeling -- he needed to see Samuel, to take steps to reclaim his lost past -- but it still wouldn't leave him. He shot a glance over his shoulder, back towards where the rest of the family was starting to gather for the morning, tempted to join them, and shook his head. No, weird feeling or not, he needed to do this now. Who knew if he'd manage to get a free moment with the other man later or if he wouldn't talk himself out of his want to talk about this, if and when he managed to pull him aside.
Another deep breath, teeth clenched in determination, and he headed up the steps, one hand falling to the frame of the door, the other raising to knock on it. Something made him stop short. Tilting his head to one side, he strained his senses in an effort to place it, and suddenly he could make out voices on the other side of the door, vaguely distorted but still audible above the snapping of a film reel.
That, he figured, explained why he'd felt as though he wasn't welcome here. Maybe he'd heard Samuel putting the film in place -- he had so many abilities that he was hardly aware of them all half the time, yet still they functioned without him. Maybe it had been something else, some other ability working for him, but either way he figured power had something to do with awareness. And awareness lead to insatiable curiosity, so he took a half-step back down the stairs, still struggling to hear.
The voices -- voice, singular -- came to him without effort suddenly.
"This is Doctor Chandra Suresh and this is entry number four. Coyote Sands Relocation Center, March 5th, 1961. I've been trying to alert the authorities here to the potential danger of gathering so many persons with abilities in one location. My concern centers around an apparent force, small but measurable, that eminates from all such individuals. When two or more of these forces approximate -- "
Without warning, the voice died and the door to Samuel's trailer was opening, the barker himself looming over him, scowling. It took all of his will power to avoid sending the other man flying back into the room out of sheer surprise.
"Sylar."
He balled his hands into fists as his side, the grating under his feet suddenly far more interesting. "I'm sorry. I didn't need to bother you. I just -- I need help."
He could feel Samuel's eyes cold on him. "What kind of help?"
"I want to remember," he answered, still unable to look up at him. "I need to -- I need to wake up from this nightmare -- but I don't think I can do it on my own. What your friend did, it didn't help. It didn't stick. What I saw was just facts; nothing stayed with me. Nothing made any sense."
Wetting his lips with his tongue, Samuel's expression softened marginally, and he padded down the steps so that he could lay a hand on Sylar's shoulder. "If that's what you really want, I'll find a way to make it happen. What was taken from you, we can get it back. Just have a little faith."
"It's what I want."
A pause, and then his expression shifted into something more curious. He knew that what he was about to ask was most likely a bad idea given Samuel's reaction, turning off the film faster than a kid pulling his hand out of the cookie jar when caught by his mother, but he couldn't help it. Something -- the name, maybe -- had struck a chord with him for more than just the fact that whoever had been on that film shared a surname with Mohinder. Something had stuck with him, just like Mohinder calling him Zane had, and he couldn't let it go.
And so, slowly, he looked up at Samuel. "Can I -- who was that? On what you were watching?"
Ice descended back into Samuel's expression sharply, and he took a step back, hand falling away from his shoulder as he retreated to loom over him again. He looked on the edge of violence, and Sylar looked away. "He's no one. No one you need concern yourself or anyone else with."
It wouldn't have taken a rocket scientist to hear the threat in his voice. "Right. Sorry, I just ... "
"Have chores you should be doing," Samuel finished sharply, gesturing away from him, widely. "Go on now. I'll start looking into getting your memories back -- your real memories."
Nodding, Sylar retreated down the stairs hastily, making a beeline for the open space between the living area and the carnival proper to do as Samuel had ordered. Not that his thoughts would be particularly devoted to moving bags of trash from the cans to the dumpster. He was too concerned with what had been said on the film, why Samuel was trying to keep it so tightly under wraps, and how much it would cost him to ask Mohinder who Chandra was. He may have had nine lives if his curiosity killed him, but he wasn't so sure about Mohinder, and out of everything he'd seen and heard today, that unsettled him the most.
Muse: Gabriel Gray (Sylar)
Fandom: Heroes
Word Count: 974
Note: Samuel is
offering_hope and is all mine to use and abuse.
