Author's note: Thanks to everyone who reviewed! I'm glad you all like Sylar. I've really tried to make sure he stays in character. This is the last chapter I've managed to complete and the rest of the story is yet to be written. I don't know when, but with all the positive comments, I'm beginning to feel like continuing this. I've got quite a busy month ahead (August), so I apologize if the wait will be that long. But here's a pretty lengthy chapter to compensate for that!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything, except Ms. Hammond and "Substance TK".
Veronica Hammond and Gabriel Gray
Hartsdale, New York
"What are you capable of exactly?"
"Good morning to you, too."
It's the following day and the moment Dr. Henry left, Sylar shoots more questions at me. An excellent way to start the day.
"Last night, you said it's an insult—how they're treating you—to your capability." Sylar says in an assuring tone.
He's lying still on his bed, eyes quite vacant, but he forces himself to converse with me.
"I…" I trail off.
Too late. He knows the next thing that comes out of my mouth is a lie. I can see him smirk.
"I know how you feel…insignificant and ignored. Everyone tells you how special you are, but you know they're lying. They don't believe in you. They can't see what you can see. What I see…"
A second later, his eyes close and he remains still and silent. I give him a final glance before exiting. He's right. The parasite, the madman, the murderer is right.
Mohinder is restless and frustrated, mostly because of Sylar. The feeling is mutual. After a few hours of tests and training, I slump lazily on a chair in his lab. I can imagine my sphere waning and Mohinder's pent up emotions and aggravated thoughts hit me from all directions. Today's achievements include blocking a simple flying tennis ball to a filing cabinet and zero nosebleeds. My developments barely seem to cheer up Mohinder.
Sylar's words slither into my mind…Everyone tells you how special you are, but you know they're lying. Would Mohinder lie to me, too? Of course he would. He's working for The Company of his own free will. He doesn't seem to be the type of person who'd rebel against authority. The Company adores him.
"I'll send up Sylar here in a while." I say as I leave.
"They underestimated you. That's what Bob said."
I'm earlier than usual—one hour to be exact—before it's bedtime for Patient Zero. Sylar probably knows more about The Company than I do. He fooled Mohinder once and worked with him. He was previously captured, but managed to escape. He knows how things work and I'm just as curious, especially with regards to this facility.
"Really now?" A smirk grows on Sylar's face. "They underestimate a lot of things."
I nod shortly in agreement.
"I'm surprised you're telling me these things, Veronica." Sylar continues. "Unless it's another pathetic ploy of The Company…"
"I'm not revealing anything vital." I say defensively. "There's no one else here, really, I can complain about The Company to. And it's not like I was given orders not to talk to you, just that I shouldn't really pay attention to what you say."
"Well, I'm flattered." Sylar says, laughing weakly. "But for someone who hates The Company, you seem to be an obedient little girl."
"I don't have much of a choice." I reply, sighing. "Like my assignment to retrieve you from Mexico and this."
"What's making you stay—aside from me?"
I grimace at him. "I'm trapped. If I leave, they'll find me again and put me back here. They haven't threatened me or anything like that. Not yet anyway. They know I don't like it here. Who does? But lately, I've been quiet about it, as if showing to them that I'm fine being their little puppet. I'm just finding a way to get out of here, without them still able to pull on my strings."
"Aren't you worried I just might tell someone about your little plans?"
I grit my teet at this. My thoughts were too loud, I couldn't hear what I was saying.
"Who are they going to believe? The psychopath or the good little girl?"
Sylar mirrors my smug smile.
"I have to say, they've underestimated you as well."
It's officially been three months since I've first arrived at this facility, since I first learned of my abilities, since I "saved the world." Every day is quite the same, but I feel less…isolated. True, I had Mohinder to consider a friend, but I can't trust anyone who works for The Company. Strange how I don't mind being in Sylar's company. But a killer's a killer. I can't trust him too much, either.
It's been quite confusing, unsure who and what to really trust. For all I know, Sylar could've snitched on me and has been feeding me lies so I'll remain ignorant. If he is lying, he's a creative genius, relating to me his story of being a lowly watchmaker's son in Brooklyn to discovering his abilities, the detailed accounts of the people he's met and murdered…
Listening to his narrations is distinctly different from reading it on his file. At the end of the day, I often sympathize for him. He's told me that he felt guilty for everything countless times, but he couldn't stop, he couldn't let those people walk away, undeserving of their powers. I feel nervous at the thought of him discovering I have abilities. Would he slay me for his own benefit as well? Of course.
"How are Sylar's tests going?" I ask Mohinder after my session. "Bob said you'd hope to find a way to get ride of abilities he's stolen from others. How's that coming along?"
Mohinder sighs. "Not all too well. It's especially difficult since he refuses to cooperate. It's been two months and we seem to be going nowhere."
"What about that medication you give him? How does that work?"
"That's not my field. You'll have to ask Henry about that."
And I do, on our way later that evening to give Sylar his injection.
"That's classified information." He replies curtly.
A bunch of pills and some shots—classified? What sort of drugs is The Company exactly formulating?
"What does it feel like? After you get a shot?"
I'm leaning against the glass panel, watching Sylar lie on his bed, staring at the ceiling.
"It's like my brain took too many shots of tequila, if you know what I mean. Everything gets foggy. My vision blurs, my hearing weakens, I can barely think or say anything. It overpowers me so much so that I just pass out. That's for the probably the first hour. When I wake up, I feel pretty normal, but then not strong enough to even pace the room for more than five minutes. Reminds me of having a flu. You can go about and do the usual, but your head feels like it's been smashed."
"Oh."
"They never drugged you?"
"Not to my memory."
"You're not missing anything. It's not like you can even get high for a few moments."
"I wonder how they made it, though. I asked and it's apparently classified information."
Curiosity crawls up Sylar's face. "Not even Suresh told you?"
I shake my head.
"Must be some really dangerous stuff if they're keeping it top secret."
"Bad medicine shouldn't be given to the bad guy."
There's a glint of amusement in Sylar's eyes. At that moment, Dr. Henry enters. The medicine and syringe are stored in a small black box, which he only opens after donning on a face mask and medical gloves. I eye the clear liquid as the doctor injects it into Sylar. I wonder where Dr. Henry's lab could be.
"Elle!"
The echoing click-clack of her high-heeled pumps come to a stop as she suddenly spins around to give me a bright smile.
"Hey there, sunshine." She says, her blue eyes flashing sparks.
"Do you know where Dr. Henry is?" I ask, though I just passed him downstairs as he was on his way to give Sylar his morning dose, from which I excused myself because of a "girl thing."
"Must be giving Angel Gabriel his breakfast." Elle says, smile widening. "Why'd you ask?"
She folds her arms across her chest and glares slightly at me, but her smile doesn't drop.
"He's not down there. He must be late. Where's his lab?" My words rush out and I bite my lip to highlight my panic.
Elle answers straight away without questioning me. "Right across Bollywood Boy's."
I'm surprised she doesn't see through my rather poor acting skills. I'm a terrible liar after all, but she only stands there and watches me walk hurriedly down the hall, to the door across Mohinder's office. I can still feel her electric eyes on me and I knock on the door, wait for a few seconds and insert my card on the slot beside the door. There's no code to be entered, thankfully, and I hear a soft beep before I push the door open.
It's a typical lab: a microscope on a steel table in the center, a computer beside a file cabinet in the corner, glass cabinets lined with test tubes and beakers, and in another corner are odd-looking instruments that I remember seeing in a few CSI episodes I've watched. There are no scattered papers or books; they're all neatly arranged on a desk. I was hoping Dr. Henry would be the messy type of doctor, quite like Mohinder, and I could easily rummage through his lab without leaving any trace. I have to be careful. And fast. In a few minutes, he would be on his way back to his lab.
I decide to tackle the files on his desk first. They all appear to be DNA tests results. The information's classified, I remind myself. Why would that sort of thing just be lying around on his desk? I almost slap myself for being so slow. I carefully arrange the papers and lock my eyes on the file cabinet. There are six drawers, a sticker label on each one. I grope the handle of the second drawer with the sticker label "F-J." I pull the handle, but it doesn't budge. It's locked. And it's been nearly five minutes since I entered Dr. Henry's lab. I can almost hear the click of the card and the beep of the scanner. I shake away the paranoia and focus my strength on the cabinet drawer. I force the lock to break in my mind and soon, I hear a resounding crack in the silent lab, like tiny metal bits falling apart. My head slightly throbbing, I pull open the drawer with ease.
I quickly thumb through the sorted folders, rushing to find Sylar's file. The name "Gray, Gabriel: Patient Zero" jumps at me and I pull out the rather thick file folder. Past his standard database, there's a table of his past tests and their results. There are a few notes in Dr. Henry's loopy handwriting along the margins. I rush past them, only able to catch a few words such as "passive" and "uncooperative." I come across another table with the heading: "Daily Medical Treatment." Beside the checked boxes of "Morning Treatment" and "Evening Treatment" are specific times and the amount of the dosages. There's more of Dr. Henry's loopy handwriting beneath the "Results" heading. "Constant passive behavior. Only 50 brain activity after immediate treatment." It says under last night's treatment. That'd practically make him a zombie, I think to myself.
I finally find what I'm looking for as I flip to the next page: a description of Sylar's medical treatment. "'Substance TK', derived from the herb…combined with…dangerous on high levels of dosage…one milileter per 24 hours…may cause hormonal imbalance…abnoramility in brain activity…ultimately, death." A quick read of the page-long explanation told me one thing: The Company is poisoning Sylar.
I can hear the blood pounding in my ears along with…footsteps echoing outside! I quickly stuff Sylar's file back into the drawer, slide it back in and dart for the door. I pull it open, slowly. I can feel my knees trembling, but as I peer out the empty hallway, I issue a long sigh of relief. I shut the door with a shaky hand and stumble down to Sylar's cell.
AN: I apologize for the utter vagueness of "Substance TK". I'm no chemist or whatever, so I still have to do some research on that. The drug's name may inevitably change as well. Anyways, review please! :)
Oh, and shameless plug: If anyone here's a Harry Potter fan, I've got a fanfic up. Please check it out: "Counting Stars". Thanks! :)