What Lies Beneath
In a dark room, with maroon curtains so thick no light escaped through, was a chair. Dark cracked leather framed in rich mahogany wood. A black head rose above, hair short upon the neck, heightened on top. He sat, poised, staring ahead between him and the wall. He was calculating.
Calculating whether to enter the room. The room where he could smell her hair, her essence more strongly than where he was now, someone's dark vacant office. Someone who obviously had problems with sunlight. But the thick curtains eased his fretful mind. Sylar leaned over, elbows painfully supporting his chin. Their sharp ends puncturing his lean legs as he lets his head rest fully into his hands. He didn't care for the pain.
Her aura consumed his sore bod. Her vibrant energy giving him the excuse to stay in the comfortable chair just a moment longer. He loved her. This was no lie. He had never been more clear on anything save for her. She was all he needed to survive. And she was there, with Peter.
And someone else as well. The way he felt her tighten by the sound of objects being thrown. Not by Peter. No, he held her along his side. He should know that nothing can keep him at bay. Nothing.
Finally, the trigger he's been waiting for. He bolted from the chair, kicked the door from its hinge and charged the hall.
Peter, with unchallenged determination, threw Mohinder against the wall. Lynée, still in the same position, clung hard to her chest, heaving in lost breaths.
"What's wrong with you!" Peter hurled his fists on either side of the doctor, entrapping his movements.
"What's wrong with me? What's wrong with you Peter!"
"You shouldn't have done that Mohinder-"
"You want to go after someone, you go after me, not her. We're leaving," he thrust his arm aside, pushed away and nearly jumped him again just for satisfaction. "Are you alright?"
She nodded, softly covering her neck, the sudden pain still molding along her skin. She didn't understand, it was a name, just a name yet had this kind doctor attack her. By the throat! Peter removed her hold and examined himself. She could speak but had no will or knowledge to. He met her gaze, nodding for clarification. She did, again, it wasn't as bad as it seemed, for her.
"That's my girl," again he stood before them. Sylar, the mere presence of his entity struck a barrier deep within the laboratory. She wasn't ready and wouldn't be, not again.
Mohinder traveled along the wall, grasping the harness of his bookshelves filled with genetics and scientific answers. There were none, none of safety or completion. Peter stood no different, he had wanted to look tall, strong and ready but he wasn't. This couldn't go on. Lynée knew nothing of her being. There was such evil that encompassed this man. It made her heart sick.
"Dr. Suresh," Sylar flickered to his old foe. "So it's your tantrum that I have to thank. How interesting."
"Don't be here Sylar," Peter dragged his attention upon him, noting the few exits, the lack of strength.
"He only came to take what's his," Lynée spoke with ease yet her gaze was wildly confused. Why had she said this? The voice was hers yet meaning wasn't. She gaze deep into Sylar, knowing already by the intensity of his own.
"Well, it's true you know," he laughed once, then took the first lunge.
Peter lunged forward as well, too repetitious to not be tiresome, this was different. There was another who influenced the fight. Mohinder summoned incredibly strength and slammed Peter into the bookcase.
"Get off of me!"
"Damn it Peter, she's not worth this," he held him there, strong, abnormally so. Peter grabbed his forearm and ignited his own with flame. But gave no reaction.
"Such a couple you would make, thank you Doctor. We will be leaving on your good favor," Sylar felt the warm enclosure of his hand pressed deeply against her Lynée's stomach. Being this close brought on such things. "Shall we?"
There was no answer, she was their object of movable desires whether she accepts this or not. One thing must be said. "Peter," she called. He had already been on her. An angry, fierce and unreliable tear came yet stayed within its purpose. "I love you," and with that, Sylar moved his possession strictly onto her hips. The tempered heat melting both his and hers.
"You're not going anywhere," Peter struggled briefly with Mohinder yet his voice broke several notes.
"I have to," she did, though the reasoning was far from anything.
Sylar fit in perfect unity into her, readying their escape for the final time.
"Lynée," Peter panicked. He can't get her back, not if she's taken again. The strength won't be enough. Being without her will weaken him more than she will ever know. "You can't go with him."
She shook her head, looking to Sylar yet speaking to Peter. "You'll understand, Peter. I promise you will." She lost as well, the few building tears broke and molded into violent sobbing. Sylar merely steadied her after the roof exploded from his mastery, pieces of the wall crumbling around them like rain.
It was one last command, one last instant of understanding that only she and Peter would know. He shout it, loud enough to make it complete and quite enough to have it mean.
"Go to sleep!"
They were gone and he was alone.
Flying again in his arms, the tear of the wind in her hair didn't even seem to bother her anymore, its rushing barely noticeable to her ears. His face was always set in stone. That stiff lined nose, his dark-set gaze veiled in a sea of black eyelashes and brows, and his lips framed by his carelessly unshaven chin, could never be forgotten, could never leave her mind. And yet it must. It must if she could ever make her way back to Peter, if her will was as strong as it could be.
They did not land on that steep rock face that overlooked the desert filled with red sand and sporadic cacti. Instead they landed in the last place Lynée ever expected. Her apartment.
They were back in New York, where it all started, the dreams, the fire, everything. Ever since she moved from that town filled with trees and fields and house, where she never knew who else was out there. She had become someone, something new. He had brought her back to this place where her destiny formed, and maybe now will end.
a / n
Yea I know, it was an urge, a call of fate and I answered it. Nonetheless, it's here and Milo and Zachary overcame my thoughts, again. Sigh.