2010-12-13 15:01![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thewatchmaker
thewatchmakerCharacter: Sylar and Walter Bishop
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
thewatchmaker
Fandom: Heroes and Fringe
Word count: 1800+
Rating: PG
Prompts: On the Tenth Day of Sylar, my true love game to me, 10 warm brains - for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
heroes_sylar
053. Hospitality - for100_fairytales 38/100
Notes: After going a little crazy from shape shifting, Sylar goes to see Dr. Bishop for help. Yes, there will probably be more to this story.
I was losing my mind, not that I was especially sane to begin with. There was so much going on in my head. I had the memories of every item I touched, mingling with the fucking empathy that Arthur taught me to use, and on top of that now I had errant DNA tearing holes in the Swiss cheese of my mind because of shape shifting.
Greed, jealousy, envy, the need to be so much more than anyone around me had driven me to this. Chandra had given my hunger its first cookie, but I’d been stuffing it full on boxes of Girl Scout Thin Mints ever since. I needed help, and I’d killed the only person who might’ve been able to tell me what the fuck was happening to me when I snapped his neck on that rainy night.
Running my fingers page by page through a tattered copy of his stupid book, I looked for some clue that might help me. It was useless. I’d learned so much more on my own than Chandra could have comprehended. Mohinder was about as useful as tits on a fish, so I hit the back of the book, looking through the references that Chandra sited.
I cross checked them one by one on the laptop I stole from Building 26 after I’d left Danko my lovely parting gift of his head in his lap. Why that little weasel thought he could control me was mind boggling. If Angela Petrelli couldn’t, how the hell could he? As if.
Most of the scientists were dead or out of the country. I wasn’t in the mood to catch a plane anywhere, not that I have a passport. The closest name on the list was Dr. Walter Bishop. He had been a teacher at Harvard. He was now locked in a mental hospital for causing the death of a student.
“Walter, you and I could become best friends forever.” I programmed his location into my phone, and I got on the road. The car I’d stolen from Danko was a nice one, especially after I shorted out all the electronic tracking devices. It was a hell of a lot better than the car I rode in with Mohinder, Maya or Luke, or it might have been the company. This time I was blissfully alone.
***
My trip to St. Claire’s had been a waste of time. Dr. Walter Bishop was no longer in residence. It wasn’t hard for me to find out where he’d gone. All it took was shaking hands with one of the doctors and replacing him for a couple of hours.
Walter’s medical records were in a file that was probably thicker than the one the Company had on me. I read as much of it as I could before I started to feel like I’d been wearing Dr. Hogan’s skin too long. Walter was brilliant. He was insane, and he’d been signed out by his legal guardian, his son, Peter Bishop.
“Mandy?” I asked the perky girl who was manning the front desk of the hospital. Her name tag was decorated with sequins and Hello Kitty stickers. “Were you working the day that Walter Bishop’s son came for him?”
“Yes,” she said with a huge smile. She looked like a toothpaste ad. She was probably a cheerleader in high school with dreams of marrying the quarterback, but she’d ended up as a receptionist instead. Life sucks. “He was cute, but he wasn’t very nice to his father. The FBI agent with him was nicer.”
“Do you remember her name?” I leaned on the desk. I could read the memories of the wood, but I didn’t feel like being shoved into a padded cell and drooling from absorbing too much history.
“Let me get the visitor log. I don’t remember her name, but she had to sign in.”
“While you’re at it, do we have a forwarding address for Walter?” I took a look at the log over Mandy’s shoulder while she ran a finger down the list until she came to Olivia Dunham and Peter Bishop’s names.
“Of course, doctor.” She hit a few buttons on her computer and printed out the address for me. “Poor Walter never got any mail when he was here, so I don’t think I’ll ever need to forward any to him. It’s so sad.”
“Yes, I’m sure it was.” I took the print out of Walter’s address and left the building, shifting back to myself as I turned the corner on my way to the parking lot. Walter was at Harvard. It shouldn’t be too hard for me to find him there.
***
Walter’s lab was in the basement of one of the older buildings. When I asked about him, a student told me he kept a cow down there to experiment on. He said the old man was nuts, and they did their best to avoid the place. Good, that’d be less witnesses in case something went wrong, because you know, that never happens to me.
I let myself into the lab with ease. It was late at night, but all the lights were on. No one was watching the door, and it was unlocked. Along one wall were ten jars each filled with a human brain. I couldn’t resist running my fingertips over each of the labels while I looked to see what made them special enough to be on display. They reminded me of my mother’s snow globe collection.
“Billy?” A considerably older version of the man I’d seen in my research looked at me from across the lab. He was wearing a lab coat and latex gloves, and there was some orange slime covering his fingers. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m not Billy,” I said stepping down to the main level of the lab, where the lights were brighter.
“No, of course not, Billy’s an old man too, like I am.” He turned away from me, going back to work dissecting something as if I didn’t exist at all. “How did you get in here?”
“Walter, I’m a friend of Chandra Suresh, and your door wasn’t locked,” I said, stepping over to the other side of the table he was working on. “Is that a papaya?”
“Suresh was an idiot, and yes, it’s a papaya.” He looked up at me, jumping back a little bit when he realized how close I was.
“What is it with you mad scientists anyway? Don’t you know it’s better to lock your doors to keep the monsters inside or out in my case?” I could feel his agitation; see the madness in his eyes. I wondered if he could see it in mine.
“What did you say your name was?” He draped a cloth over the papaya like it was a corpse and stripped off his gloves with a snap.
“My name is Sylar.”
“Like the watch. That’s strange, but I had a myriad of students named Rainbow and Summer during the seventies. The things people will name their children. My Peter was lucky. Peter is a good traditional name. Are you related to Billy? You look like him.”
“No Walter. I don’t know who Billy is. I’m a friend of Chandra Suresh. You know the idiot, and I need your help.”
Walter’s hands darted out and he grabbed my head roughly, staring into my eyes, much the same way I did with my victims. “You’re one of them aren’t you, Sylar, one of Suresh’s specials?”
“Yes,” I said, fighting the urge to make him let me go. But I didn’t think sending him flying across the room would help my cause. “I came to you for help. Chandra’s dead, and I’m losing my mind.”
“Which one are you?” Walter asked, letting me go on his way over to another table covered with bottles and jars. He rummaged through a few drawers then started filling a small paper cup with pills like they do in the hospital.
“Patient Zero. That’s what he called me, and I never knew why. I can copy the abilities of others, and I’ve taken on something that doesn’t agree with my digestion. It’s killing me, and I don’t know how to get rid of it.”
“Have you tried self-medication?” He tossed back the pills and washed them down with a can of ginger ale that had been sitting on the table long enough to look dusty. “That works wonders for me. That last batch should catch me before I come in for a landing from my last dose.”
“That won’t work for me.” I wrinkled my nose at the thought of drinking out of that can. God knew what might have crawled into it in this place. “I have regeneration. My body isn’t effected by drugs.”
“Can’t be hurt either, can you?” He clapped his hands. “Chandra must have loved having you to experiment on. What did he do to you, Sylar?”
“He taught me to use my potential. He woke up something in me that I don’t understand, and until recently I was fine with that. But now, I’m fucked up, and I don’t like it.”
“I see. Would you like some ice cream?” He skirted past me and popped open a freezer, pulling out a tub of Ben & Jerry’s and tossed me one too. His aim was off, and I had to catch it and the spoon that quickly followed with telekinesis. “Fascinating! What else can you do, Sylar? You must show me.”
Sitting up on a lab stool, I peeled off the protective cover of the ice cream and took a mouthful. It was cookie dough. “This is my favorite.”
“You looked like a cookie dough man. Now let’s talk. You tell me what you can do, and we’ll see what we can do about turning off what’s gone wrong in your brain. I’d love to have a look at it, by the way.”
“I’m sure you would.” I glanced over at the wall of brains. “But I don’t think I want to end up in one of your jars.”
“What are you afraid of?” He snorted, waving the spoon at me to emphasize his point. “You can’t die. This is exciting. Think of all the things we can learn together. I’m glad you came to me, Sylar. I’m certain I can help you.”
“I hope so too.” I sucked some of the ice cream off my spoon and smiled over at the lunatic in the lab coat. “Hope you’re not expected anywhere. I’ve got a lot to tell you before we start.”
“Nothing that can’t wait, I’ve already milked Gene, and Peter is off with Olivia. We have all night.” He reached into his pocket and popped a few more pills. “Speed to counteract the rest of my cocktail. I want to be wide awake for this.”
“Then let me start at the beginning. My name was Gabriel Gray, and I used to be a watchmaker.”
12 Days of Sylar
100 Fairytales
Author:
thewatchmaker Fandom: Heroes and Fringe
Word count: 1800+
Rating: PG
Prompts: On the Tenth Day of Sylar, my true love game to me, 10 warm brains - for
heroes_sylar053. Hospitality - for
100_fairytales 38/100Notes: After going a little crazy from shape shifting, Sylar goes to see Dr. Bishop for help. Yes, there will probably be more to this story.
I was losing my mind, not that I was especially sane to begin with. There was so much going on in my head. I had the memories of every item I touched, mingling with the fucking empathy that Arthur taught me to use, and on top of that now I had errant DNA tearing holes in the Swiss cheese of my mind because of shape shifting.
Greed, jealousy, envy, the need to be so much more than anyone around me had driven me to this. Chandra had given my hunger its first cookie, but I’d been stuffing it full on boxes of Girl Scout Thin Mints ever since. I needed help, and I’d killed the only person who might’ve been able to tell me what the fuck was happening to me when I snapped his neck on that rainy night.
Running my fingers page by page through a tattered copy of his stupid book, I looked for some clue that might help me. It was useless. I’d learned so much more on my own than Chandra could have comprehended. Mohinder was about as useful as tits on a fish, so I hit the back of the book, looking through the references that Chandra sited.
I cross checked them one by one on the laptop I stole from Building 26 after I’d left Danko my lovely parting gift of his head in his lap. Why that little weasel thought he could control me was mind boggling. If Angela Petrelli couldn’t, how the hell could he? As if.
Most of the scientists were dead or out of the country. I wasn’t in the mood to catch a plane anywhere, not that I have a passport. The closest name on the list was Dr. Walter Bishop. He had been a teacher at Harvard. He was now locked in a mental hospital for causing the death of a student.
“Walter, you and I could become best friends forever.” I programmed his location into my phone, and I got on the road. The car I’d stolen from Danko was a nice one, especially after I shorted out all the electronic tracking devices. It was a hell of a lot better than the car I rode in with Mohinder, Maya or Luke, or it might have been the company. This time I was blissfully alone.
***
My trip to St. Claire’s had been a waste of time. Dr. Walter Bishop was no longer in residence. It wasn’t hard for me to find out where he’d gone. All it took was shaking hands with one of the doctors and replacing him for a couple of hours.
Walter’s medical records were in a file that was probably thicker than the one the Company had on me. I read as much of it as I could before I started to feel like I’d been wearing Dr. Hogan’s skin too long. Walter was brilliant. He was insane, and he’d been signed out by his legal guardian, his son, Peter Bishop.
“Mandy?” I asked the perky girl who was manning the front desk of the hospital. Her name tag was decorated with sequins and Hello Kitty stickers. “Were you working the day that Walter Bishop’s son came for him?”
“Yes,” she said with a huge smile. She looked like a toothpaste ad. She was probably a cheerleader in high school with dreams of marrying the quarterback, but she’d ended up as a receptionist instead. Life sucks. “He was cute, but he wasn’t very nice to his father. The FBI agent with him was nicer.”
“Do you remember her name?” I leaned on the desk. I could read the memories of the wood, but I didn’t feel like being shoved into a padded cell and drooling from absorbing too much history.
“Let me get the visitor log. I don’t remember her name, but she had to sign in.”
“While you’re at it, do we have a forwarding address for Walter?” I took a look at the log over Mandy’s shoulder while she ran a finger down the list until she came to Olivia Dunham and Peter Bishop’s names.
“Of course, doctor.” She hit a few buttons on her computer and printed out the address for me. “Poor Walter never got any mail when he was here, so I don’t think I’ll ever need to forward any to him. It’s so sad.”
“Yes, I’m sure it was.” I took the print out of Walter’s address and left the building, shifting back to myself as I turned the corner on my way to the parking lot. Walter was at Harvard. It shouldn’t be too hard for me to find him there.
***
Walter’s lab was in the basement of one of the older buildings. When I asked about him, a student told me he kept a cow down there to experiment on. He said the old man was nuts, and they did their best to avoid the place. Good, that’d be less witnesses in case something went wrong, because you know, that never happens to me.
I let myself into the lab with ease. It was late at night, but all the lights were on. No one was watching the door, and it was unlocked. Along one wall were ten jars each filled with a human brain. I couldn’t resist running my fingertips over each of the labels while I looked to see what made them special enough to be on display. They reminded me of my mother’s snow globe collection.
“Billy?” A considerably older version of the man I’d seen in my research looked at me from across the lab. He was wearing a lab coat and latex gloves, and there was some orange slime covering his fingers. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m not Billy,” I said stepping down to the main level of the lab, where the lights were brighter.
“No, of course not, Billy’s an old man too, like I am.” He turned away from me, going back to work dissecting something as if I didn’t exist at all. “How did you get in here?”
“Walter, I’m a friend of Chandra Suresh, and your door wasn’t locked,” I said, stepping over to the other side of the table he was working on. “Is that a papaya?”
“Suresh was an idiot, and yes, it’s a papaya.” He looked up at me, jumping back a little bit when he realized how close I was.
“What is it with you mad scientists anyway? Don’t you know it’s better to lock your doors to keep the monsters inside or out in my case?” I could feel his agitation; see the madness in his eyes. I wondered if he could see it in mine.
“What did you say your name was?” He draped a cloth over the papaya like it was a corpse and stripped off his gloves with a snap.
“My name is Sylar.”
“Like the watch. That’s strange, but I had a myriad of students named Rainbow and Summer during the seventies. The things people will name their children. My Peter was lucky. Peter is a good traditional name. Are you related to Billy? You look like him.”
“No Walter. I don’t know who Billy is. I’m a friend of Chandra Suresh. You know the idiot, and I need your help.”
Walter’s hands darted out and he grabbed my head roughly, staring into my eyes, much the same way I did with my victims. “You’re one of them aren’t you, Sylar, one of Suresh’s specials?”
“Yes,” I said, fighting the urge to make him let me go. But I didn’t think sending him flying across the room would help my cause. “I came to you for help. Chandra’s dead, and I’m losing my mind.”
“Which one are you?” Walter asked, letting me go on his way over to another table covered with bottles and jars. He rummaged through a few drawers then started filling a small paper cup with pills like they do in the hospital.
“Patient Zero. That’s what he called me, and I never knew why. I can copy the abilities of others, and I’ve taken on something that doesn’t agree with my digestion. It’s killing me, and I don’t know how to get rid of it.”
“Have you tried self-medication?” He tossed back the pills and washed them down with a can of ginger ale that had been sitting on the table long enough to look dusty. “That works wonders for me. That last batch should catch me before I come in for a landing from my last dose.”
“That won’t work for me.” I wrinkled my nose at the thought of drinking out of that can. God knew what might have crawled into it in this place. “I have regeneration. My body isn’t effected by drugs.”
“Can’t be hurt either, can you?” He clapped his hands. “Chandra must have loved having you to experiment on. What did he do to you, Sylar?”
“He taught me to use my potential. He woke up something in me that I don’t understand, and until recently I was fine with that. But now, I’m fucked up, and I don’t like it.”
“I see. Would you like some ice cream?” He skirted past me and popped open a freezer, pulling out a tub of Ben & Jerry’s and tossed me one too. His aim was off, and I had to catch it and the spoon that quickly followed with telekinesis. “Fascinating! What else can you do, Sylar? You must show me.”
Sitting up on a lab stool, I peeled off the protective cover of the ice cream and took a mouthful. It was cookie dough. “This is my favorite.”
“You looked like a cookie dough man. Now let’s talk. You tell me what you can do, and we’ll see what we can do about turning off what’s gone wrong in your brain. I’d love to have a look at it, by the way.”
“I’m sure you would.” I glanced over at the wall of brains. “But I don’t think I want to end up in one of your jars.”
“What are you afraid of?” He snorted, waving the spoon at me to emphasize his point. “You can’t die. This is exciting. Think of all the things we can learn together. I’m glad you came to me, Sylar. I’m certain I can help you.”
“I hope so too.” I sucked some of the ice cream off my spoon and smiled over at the lunatic in the lab coat. “Hope you’re not expected anywhere. I’ve got a lot to tell you before we start.”
“Nothing that can’t wait, I’ve already milked Gene, and Peter is off with Olivia. We have all night.” He reached into his pocket and popped a few more pills. “Speed to counteract the rest of my cocktail. I want to be wide awake for this.”
“Then let me start at the beginning. My name was Gabriel Gray, and I used to be a watchmaker.”
12 Days of Sylar
100 Fairytales
