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Volume 3
Inamorati
The ground lay bare with long, untrimmed grass, a well kept garden bordered the area and a tall, vine-infested sign that read Central Park. He leaned back, losing balance against an old picnic table from behind. She stood before him, arms held out awkwardly as though she meant to catch him before he did so.
"It's okay, I'm fine. Are you alright?"
"Am I alright?"
He smiled despite the pain and leaned further into the table. There was nothing wrong with it. He was hurting and she knew of how. So she brushed her hand against his wet shirt to see where the wounds were. Glass may not have been plunged into him yet the previous packing sounds and cracking blows meant there were obvious cuts.
"There's no need. I'm a quick healer," he clasped her hand, stopping the further investigation. His breathing lightened but was left with a cold chill in place. Spreading through his hand, arm, eventually everything else connected. He knew of it yet couldn't say yet, to her.
She watched him lose focus, unsure of what he was doing. But as soon as she met his gaze, some sort of courage was gained. "You're in pain, let me help you."
"How?"
She didn't expected such a response but kept going. "You may know of who I am, but clearly not everything," she moved over the tender areas. An unseen medicine reached far, healing every bruise and sore without a hint of him feeling it.
She let go. He looked over his chest in an almost proud gesture, like he knew what would happen. They were gone. The dreams have hidden her true self from him but this, this was real. He could reach out and touch her without the barrier of a dream but there was also fear, genuine fear. And it was written upon her face. She looked to her hand, this wasn't right. It's never felt like this before. A suffocating sensation lingered within the bones and veins. Before she could close a fist, he covered his own on top.
"There's something you need to know," he smoothed beneath both. "I know what you feel, when you did that. I feel it too, stronger than yours. I can't tell you what it is only why it's happening. We're something you may not understand. You already know we're different. People with special abilities. But you and I are something beyond that, something else," he paused, struggling almost. "You are my inamorati."
She didn't say anything, didn't move, didn't breathe until he took a breath himself.
"It's not something you can define but it's similar to a term I'd rather not say. But if it's the only way you can understand, then soul mate will be all too familiar to match. I know what that sounds like, it's not something I ever believed in. But now that I've," he slyly lifted himself from the table, rubbing his brow. "It's possible," his gaze held elsewhere. "This is why Sylar is after us. He thinks you're his. I've watched him, tried to keep him away but he's grown desperate. I've put myself in your dreams for this very reason. To protect you from him each night. But from doing that, something happened-"
He stopped, scanning the park with a suspicious gaze. She didn't wait this time. "That man who attacked us, Sylar, he was there for me?"
"Yes."
"And I'm his inamorati?"
"No," he spun on his heel, nearly slamming into her legs if he hadn't stopped soon after. One breath. "There's a doctor, an evolutionary scientist, Dr. Suresh who made another theory. Out of all of us who have gifts, there is one who is different and more unique. One more powerful, stronger than any of us put together. One that is able to have two. You, Lynée, you're believed to be this one but you're not. "
She already knew of the answer.
"Because you only have one."
"You?" she whispered. He nodded, pushing further, closing the conspicuous gap. The softness of their skin pressed together consumed the minds of both. The heat steadily grew into a blaze that seemed to pour over every nerve, searing them together. Lynée felt his hand lightly touch the back of her neck, his long fingers weaving into her hair while she reached up and ran her own across his face. They were close. So close as to threaten a kiss but it never came.
He might have entered her dreams for protection but something much stronger brought him there. She felt it, he knew it.
. . .
Sylar walked onto the bustling street, his pants loose and torn, his chest bare, smeared with drying blood. The pedestrians walked wide around him with questioning looks. But no one stopped to ask if he was okay. Either out of fear or suspicion.
The no-walking light blinked vigorously but he stepped out anyway. A yellow cab blared on the horn. The driver cursing the foolish action with enthusiasm. Sylar simply turned to him, ready to crush the man's skull with the growing force bubbling inside but a stern hand touched his shoulder.
"Excuse me son, you look a little lost."
Right on time. "Yes officer, as a matter of fact I am."
He followed the masculine policeman lead him to the patrol car where his partner sat drinking from a Styrofoam cup filled with steaming black coffee. He gave a short start at the sight of this man, shirtless and seemingly disoriented, as his partner let him lean against their cruiser.
"Now tell me," he was slightly overweight but with a clear countenance. The other one was sized perfectly however, he'll do fine. "Is something wrong?"
"Oh, more than you know," Sylar dug deep into his mind. "You will put me in the back, get in the car and drive to the alleyway off Market Street," his pupils stretched and recoiled as he controlled the minds of both men now.
Soon, the dazed officers pulled into a secluded alley, far from people and far from safety. "Get out," he slammed the back door and waited for them to do so. They already were. "Now you," he said to the one who was drinking from the cup. "Take off your uniform. And you, I have no need for you." He tilted his head, a bolt of electricity cracked from his palm, shooting a hole though his chest.
Sylar pulled the blue brimmed hat over his head as he adjusted the mirror, soon backing out of the ally without once glancing upon the two smoldering policemen he left behind.