The showdown is over. Now Sylar has to decide whether or not to take Doc into his confidence. Can he trust the good country doctor?
I do not own Heroes.
High Noon Showdown Part eleven
Sylar sat up on the table and looked at the extended hand holding several spent shells. He touched his exposed chest and belly. There was smeared blood but no holes, the wounds now completely healed. Sylar looked up at Doc from beneath dark brows.
"I think you've got some explaining to do," Doc pushed. He had seen some of what Sylar could do, but today was extraordinary. "How does a man get shot as many times as you did, and not die?"
"Doc, I could explain everything, but I don't think..."
Suddenly there was a ruckus out front. A man rushed into Doc's office, calling out to him. "Doc! You gotta come, quick!."
Doc left the shells on the table, and headed outside. Sylar drew his shirt closed, buttoning his vest and followed. Hearing no more gunshots, the townspeople slowly emerged from their homes and places of business. They went around to the bodies scattered around town, bringing them to Doc's office. A crowd was gathering, surrounding the outlaws. Some murmured as they gawked at the dead men. A couple examined the bodies.
"Rafe's dead."
"Who are these others?"
"Look at that one. He's been sliced plumb open."
"This one's alive!" someone shouted. "We heard a noise on the stage building, and found him lying up there." The man was holding the outlaw's rifle.
Doc and Sylar went over to the survivor. Doc squatted next to him, amazed at the burns all over his body. His shirt had been virtually burned from his body, his flesh a mix of raw, red meat and blackened skin. He was barely alive, trying to raise a hand towards Doc. "What is it?" he asked, letting the man grab his arm.
While Sylar stood to the side, the man locked eyes with his. They grew wide with fear. "Sher...iff...Sher..."
Sylar stood just outside the crowd, his arms at his side. Unseen by anyone, he formed his hand into a loose grip, sealing the man's throat from any oxygen, until at last he slumped over and died.
Doc checked his heart, but there was no sound. He lay his hand against the man's face and felt no breath. "He's gone." He looked up at Sylar. "I've never seen him before, but he seemed to be trying to tell you something. He was probably one of Rafe's men, but how did he get so badly burned?" Doc stood, brushing his hands on his pants. "Fellas, can you get them out of the street and onto the porch. And can someone go to the wood maker's, tell him we need 6 more coffins." Doc shook his head. "I don't think we've needed so many coffins in a year as we have this month. Come on, Sheriff. Let's get you cleaned up." They headed into his office.
Doc's words brought everyone's attention to the new sheriff, who seemed quite unscathed after just facing down Rafe and his men. Hadn't someone said he'd been shot? Yet he looked fine. They realized that, in any case, their sheriff had defeated the notorious Rafe Matheson, so now their town was theirs once more. They would have to find some way to thank him, and keep him around.
Doc washed up, the feeling of greasy human flesh still on his hands. "So, Sylar, have you decided to share anything with me?"
"Oh, Jack, leave him alone," Emily interjected. She handed Sylar a damp towel, and went to face Doc. "He has done something wonderful for this town. You should be grateful, instead of interrogating him like...like some lawman. He's our sheriff, for goodness sake!"
"Emily, can you leave us alone? Look, I'll be by your place tonight." He leaned in and kissed her cheek, an action that Sylar didn't miss.
"Alright. But you stop pestering him." She went over to Sylar. "Thank you for saving our town." She leaned in closer and whispered. "And thank you for whatever it was you said to Jack. He asked me to marry him." She grinned shyly, lightly touched Sylar's hand, and left.
Sylar watched Doc as he dried his hands, saying, "So you finally asked her."
Doc turned. "Yep. You convinced me I was being a hard head. Now as for you..." He again picked up the spent shells. "I really want to know what happened out there, Sylar. I was watching, but I still don't know how you did it. One against six. It's just not possible." Doc gathered his thoughts. He liked Sylar, he'd asked him to stay on as sheriff, and yet he felt more than ever that he knew nothing about the man. "Look, Sylar. I have no reason to interfere in a way that...will get you into trouble. You've rid the town of vermin no one here had the guts to confront, including me. I admit to not knowing your past, except for a few things you've told me. And since you arrived here, you've been secretive for the most part. Is there some reason you ended up in Bowdry's Creek? Are you running from something or someone? You can trust me, Sylar." He tried another tact. "I consider you a friend. And I'm sorry I was jealous, but I guess you know that what you said was like a kick in the pants. So I thank you for that."
Sylar waited, trying to decide how much he should tell Doc, if anything. The man was curious and seemed to be fishing for information, but why.
"Alright, Sylar. I'm going to show you how much I trust you. The day of Sheriff Dagget's funeral, I was on my way back to town and had just come around the corner of the stable. I saw you and Rafe talking. Then I saw...I don't know what I saw. You threw him into the street after stopping bullets from his gun. I mean stopping them dead in the air. I haven't said anything to anyone about that, not even Emily." He let that bit of news sink in.
"Doc, there are some things people here wouldn't understand. They didn't understand...where I come from, I'm hunted like an animal."
"New York City?" Doc asked.
Sylar nodded. "Yes, in New York, and elsewhere. I'm considered a monster back there." He tilted his head, looking into Doc's eyes to see what sort of reaction he would get. But he was surprised to see only someone willing to listen. Maybe confiding in this man wouldn't be a bad thing. He said he'd seen some of what Sylar could do, and even though he too had wanted something from him, it was for the good of the town and not for personal gain. And he wasn't afraid of him, Sylar could see that. "You're right, Doc, I was shot, several times. But I can't be killed."
Doc frowned while he digested that one sentence. '...I can't be killed' So that explained the bullets leaving his body, and the wounds spontaneously healing. As a doctor, he was fascinated by anyone having the ability to do that. "So you were shot but healed. And the other things I saw?"
Sylar paced a bit, then turned on Doc with a hard on his face. His eyes darkened as he made his admission. "I have...abilities, powers to do things that average people can't. Are you sure you want to know everything?"
Doc leaned against the counter, arms folded. He nodded. "Tell me anything you want me to know."
Sylar nodded back. He inhaled, holding his breath a fraction of a second before exhaling. "Alright, Doc, you're right. I can...do things." He held up his hand toward the equipment table, and a scalpel flew into the open palm. He saw the look of amazement on Doc's face but continued. Holding the scalpel in one hand, he sliced through the skin of his other right above the wrist. Sylar winced as blood briefly flowed, staunched and ceased.
Doc quickly went over to check the hand, but the cut had sealed itself and showed no sign that it had ever been there. "I don't believe it. It's incredible. No wonder you weren't afraid of Rafe. He couldn't do anything to hurt you."
"There's more." Sylar held up the very hand that he'd cut, fingers pointing upward, and let blue electricity dance over each fingertip. He thrust the hand out toward the wall, charring the paint and wood beneath.
Doc was already heading for the spot, touching the still-warm, blackened wood. Then he realized what had happened to the one outlaw left alive. "You killed him by some sort of electrocution. I've heard of that. It's what caused the burns." He came back towards Sylar. "Is there anything else you can do?"
"There are other things. Some powers I rarely use." Sylar kept his body very still, then elevated upwards a few feet. "Like flying. It's useful at times, but I've gotten used to riding a horse it seems. I actually enjoy it." He smiled at his weak attempt at humor. He just didn't know what Doc was thinking.. He wished he had the ability to read minds, but he never had the chance to get that from the one person he knew who had it. He might have been able to get into Parkman's brain one day, if he'd still been in the 21st century.
"You can fly?" Doc's mouth was open in awe, as he watched the sheriff of Bowdry's Creek levitate several feet off the floor. As he waited for Sylar to literally come back down to earth, he asked him one question that he truly dreaded the answer to. "Have you...killed anyone else besides Rafe and his gang?"
Sylar's head whipped towards Doc. So he wanted to know more than just what powers he had. He wanted to know what he'd done with them. He saw no reason to lie. Doc had been telling the truth when he said he could be trusted. But if he admitted killing the old man, would he keep his secret. "Yes, back home, I killed. Maybe it would help you to understand me, if you knew that it started with one singular ability. But from that grew the desire to have more. It's like a hunger and I can't control it. If I knew of anyone who had a power I didn't have, I wanted it enough to go after them. Killing was just a preference."
"Preference? You mean you didn't have to kill anyone, but you did anyway? Why?" Doc wondered if he was learning too much about the man he had called friend. If Sylar killed for pleasure...
"You can't know what it's like, Doc. Sometimes I get this...need,...it fills me, and satisfies me when it's fulfilled. It's the most powerful feeling in the world. There's nothing I can't do. It makes me...special." His eyes searched Doc's for any response that the other man might not care to articulate. He thought he might have seen realization, or disgust.
Doc eyed the floor as his mind raced. Hank Ramsey. "You killed Hank, didn't you."
"Yes, I did. He had an ability. You remember what he said about knowing where gold was in the ground? He did. He could find any organic metal just by sensing it. If he'd had the equipment to get at it, he'd have been a wealthy man. It would be a useful power to have in the future, where they can..." Instantly, he stopped talking.
Sylar had brought up one aspect of all this that had gone unspoken, but Doc wasn't stupid. Again, his mind clicked at small details. The coins. "Those gold coins you had. Were those really serial numbers?" Doc remembered the day he'd met Sylar, how out of place he'd seemed, and how he'd appeared to have fallen out of the sky. "Were those dates?"
Sylar said nothing. If Doc thought he had the answer to his own question, let him say it aloud.
"They were, weren't they. I knew it! Now let's see. The largest date was 2009, so you come from at least that year. Maybe later even," he said, his mind awhirl with crazy thoughts, yet they made sense now. Without waiting for confirmation, he asked, "How did you come here? I mean, is traveling through time commonplace in your future world?" He hesitated when he asked, "Does everyone have the same powers? That wouldn't make for a pleasant future, I would think."
Finally, Sylar decided to put a halt to the speculation. "No, Doc, only some people have powers. Most just want to fit in and live their lives as normally as possible. Some need to feel special, and make use of them, for good or bad." Brown eyes met and challenged.
"Like you. So many gifts that you abuse, Sylar, according to you. I don't understand."
Fingers twitching powerlessly, he protested. "Since coming here, and I assure you, it wasn't my choice, I've found a place where maybe I can do good. I did kill Hank Ramsey, but since then I've tried to control the hunger within me. Don't worry, there aren't any others with abilities in town. I'd know. If you say nothing to anyone, Doc, I can still do good for this place and the people here. If I'm stuck in this time, it's better than any alternative I can think of." He looked at Doc, his expression hopeful, a faint smile asking for absolution.
But Doc couldn't give it. He couldn't forgive Sylar for killing a harmless old man, but the way he'd gotten rid of Rafe and his gang partially made up for it. Perhaps in time, his silence would buy complete forgiveness for a man who seemed to desperately want it. Could the kindness, respect and love of the people in this town turn him around? "Do you want to stay here then?"
"For now, yes. It's not as if going back to New York in this time would be the same. A lot has happened in the world, or will happen, in the next 100 plus years. I'll admit that when I first arrived, I thought I would have this place under my thumb in no time. Then Rafe showed me what that person would have been like, and I didn't like him. Later, with so many people giving me the respect I never had back home, it made me think I could change." He moved closer to his friend. "I can't promise I won't use my abilities, but against the town? Not if I can help it."
Doc placed a hand on Sylar's shoulder. "If you need any help, my friend, you let me know. Now, is there anything else you haven't told me?" he asked, feeling as if he'd been punched in the gut.
"Well, there is one ability that I haven't shown you yet." Sylar stood in front of Doc, staring at him.
Doc stared back, noticing that Sylar's facial features were wavering, losing cohesion. His body was shrinking and growing a bit stouter, if that were possible. Moments later, in complete disbelief, Doc found himself staring at...himself! His mind couldn't accept that Sylar had just become Doc, a perfect duplicate if he was any judge. No one looks like they see themselves in a mirror, but the size, build and coloring were right. Doc ran a hand through his hair, leaving it on his cheek, his mouth open.
Just then, the door opened. In walked Emily, one hand shielding her eyes from the bodies lying on the porch, partially covered by tarps. She saw Doc and asked him, "Jack, what's taking you two so long? Everyone's asking for you both." She turned to Sylar, only it wasn't Sylar. It was...Jack. Her head swung back to the other Jack. Her mind, refusing to acknowledge what she was seeing, shut down, and she fell to the floor in a dead faint.