Chapter 3-
Funeral Song-
If I had a world of my own, everything would be nonsense. Nothing would be what it is, because everything would be what it isn't. And contrary wise, what is, it wouldn't be. And what it wouldn't be, it would. You see?
Lewis Carrol, "Alice In Wonderland"
Sylar would dream. He was the type. He would dream, and he would have those dreams that terrified even him… nightmares. So he knew. He knew how it worked. In dreams, there's sort of a fog, an enveloping shadow around everything, limiting your view. In that shadow, the most dangerous and terrifying things can lurk... ready to leap out and consume your nights in sweats of panic. He watched Noah Bennet's dream unfolding at a leisurely pace, and took his rightful place in the shadows of the mind.
Dreams are free from all but their own peculiar form of logic, the rules of physics broken and strewn across the floor. Sylar watched with those eagle eyes of his, always searching for weakness in his prey. For such a normal man, Noah Bennet had the oddest dreams. Noah was sitting, never flitting, in a high chair lording above a table in the blue tinted room of Primatech Paper.
The blue room where they brought the test subjects…like real life it was kept to a perfect room temperature, and smelled slightly of anesthesia they used- a minty smell almost, that tingled the hairs of your nose. Real life's harsh glare of fluorescent colored lights was replaced by instead a heavy blue filter over everything.
The scene was ordered and calm, as Noah was. Around the table in perfectly symmetrically placed chairs sat his family- Claire in her impeccable cheerleader uniform that came tight around her curves, Lyle in a church outfit of a green turtleneck and black jeans with a shining gold belt, reading an issue of 9thwonders at the table, and Sandra in a beautiful red dress that stood out in glowing watercolor brush strokes from the blue sprawling over everything. Noah smiled at his perfect family. Sylar sat in the shadows and scowled, the pace of his breath growing faster with rage. Even in his dreams his family was never like this... and only in his dreams could he be with them. Into the room came Mr. Muggles, hair shining as it was always tended by the loving Sandra, barking cheerily with loud yelps that announced his presence, a plate strapped to his fur, carrying cups of tea.
A tea party. How wonderful. Each family member took high grade china cups of tea and little bits of white sugar shaped in perfect squares that dissolved into a fine and sweet liquid when plopped with a sound into the steaming tea that cooled quickly at the table. Claire sipped, a smile across her youthful face, and they discussed how the football team was doing- 12-2, probably would make all state. Noah admired the contrast of the perfect white china the hot tea was in, and his wife's red dress.
Sylar was disgusted by the happiness and serenity of the family scene. He would start off simple, and build from there like the true artist he considered himself. He looked at Noah's cup of tea, the perfect white. Noah was a man who thought in details, and even in his dreams there were extraordinary details- the fine handiwork of the crafted china for example. Sylar took his finger up into the air- pointed at Noah's china and like a child finger cheerily painting at preschool, thought crimson red thoughts, angry thoughts, and it began to deform, small red cracks began to appear, scarring the cup. Sylar remembered the wonderful pattern on the Iyer family's marble floor- interlinked octagons, and began to paint it on the cup. Noah noticed his cup changed color and reacted with a raised eyebrow, bemused.
"That is odd. This is a fun little tea party." Said Noah, taking in a sip of chai, at first a loud slurp before he remembered his manners and quieted it down. Sylar giggled like a child with a new toy at his power. Now for something a bit bigger. He slinked around the shadows, coming to the side of Lyle. He whispered into Lyle's ear-
"You know, I think your favorite TV show is on...Justice League. Where the good guys always win." Sylar said smiling.
Lyle pushed his feet against the floor, his loafers skidding across the hard steel floor, backing his chair up with a screech, and began to depart.
"Whoa, wait- dear son, why are you departing?" asked Noah.
The shadows came in closer, Sylar realizing his effect. More room to play. An arm came from the shadows and grabbed Lyle by the mouth, a muted scream as he was plunged into darkness. The chill came up the spine of Noah, his perfect tea party interrupted. Next up was his little girl. Claire stood up with a yawn, outstretched arms. Sylar loved it- playing dominoes with hopes, dreams deferred.
"Now, missy- you aren't excused. Why are you going?" Asked Noah.
"Oh, I'm a bit fatigued, father. Cheerleading practice, finals, walking through fire- you know, usual teenage girl stuff- takes a lot out of me. I need a nap with Sy-pa."
"Wait-wait-"
"Why should I listen to you anyway? It's not like you're my real father!" Claire screeched. Noah began to be taken delightfully off center, off guard. Claire walked into the shadows, her skull dripping blood as she left. Then the straw that broke the camels back. Sylar looked down at himself and thought of Dr. O'Grady, his childhood physician, always in that white coat. Then he was wearing a white coat. Why, what a wonderful world of whimsy dreams were!
Sylar decided to make his entrance. The table became an EKG machine, and he picked up Sandra, setting up the EKG with the clinical precision that gave his every move and thought their effectiveness.
"Never mind, Mr. Bennet. The tests are obvious. You killed your wife."
Sandra began to choke, spitting up blood, her veins turning a sickly purple and bulging through her skin as the EKG became a hospital bed. Noah ran to his wife's side.
"Sandy, Sandy- it's ok. We'll beat this." He said, panicking.
Sandra looked up at him, her red dress becoming formless, she was fading away. "I'm sorry, who are you again? I seem to be forgetting an awful lot of things lately."
His worst fears, Sylar thought. The red dress became a pool of blood, Sandra and the hospital fading away to leave Noah and the blue tinted room, a pool of blood on the floor. Noah's hand shot to his mouth, slightly muting a shocked gasp.
"Oh my god... I did this."
Sylar decided to make his entrance proper. A baseball cap, that black coat. His favorite outfit. He stood, half in shadow, letting Bennet realize who he was.
"Sylar."
Sylar began to think of exquisite new tortures for Bennet. Suddenly he had short hair, elfin features of youthful beauty, and had changed into a completely different person. Identity is fluid in dreams. Eden McCain stood in front of Noah, holding her pistol in those small, delicate hands of hers.
"It's ok. Just...GO TO SLEEP." Eden/Sylar said, the voice dropping eerily into The Voice with those last words and lifted her gun, bringing it to her skull and splattering it across the wall. Sylar stood up out of the corpse, covered in blood, a macabre sight and paced around Bennet.
"You are quite awful at protecting the ones you care about. If it wasn't for that annoying mimic, I would have killed your daughter. Your associate's trips into your wife's brain... Eden. Besides this one, hers could have been the most fun of all the powers I'm going to have when I'm done. Shame. Shame. SHAME!" Sylar screamed at the now cowering Bennet.
"I'm sorry...I just wanted to protect my family..."
"That's no excuse. A man like you, who has hurt so many people... needs to locked away."
Noah Bennet curled in the fetal position inside of a Primatech cell, looking out the glass window. Sylar knew how it felt, the cold, the floor harsh against your skin, the smell of only your sweat- and Noah was drenched in his own juices. Like a wonderful simmering steak. Sylar smiled and lifted up his hand, then shut it with speed. The lights went out. It was all shadows now.
Noah cried. This was so easy, Sylar thought. He walked into the cell, and gave a friendly Texas voice.
"Why, partner, seems your jig is up. Want me to end it nice, quick like through the brain?" He asked.
Noah whimpered, "yes..."
Then things... things began to change. The shadows bloomed, blinding Sylar. And there he was, again. It was a cold winter morning. A tree came over the grave, leafless and unhappy in stature. The wind braised his skin. Sylar read the grave, moss covering it. No flowers, no signs of upkeep. Like they had just... forgotten about this person. It read-
"Virginia Gray, devoted mother of Gabriel."
This wasn't fun anymore.
My life closed twice before its close;
It yet remains to see
If Immortality unveil
A third event to me,
So huge, so hopeless to conceive,
As these that twice befell.
Parting is all we know of heaven,
And all we need of hell.
Emily Dickinson