Plane Between

VI: sylarphobia. internalized.

Zach again tries to struggle against the mental invasion, but his efforts come to naught and all he can do is watch helplessly through his eyes.

Adam's apartment. He's never seen this place before, and yet in some corner of his mind it sparks a familiarity: a metaphysical déjà vu, a moment of shared history with an abandoned character.

Sylar walks them over to the kitchenette and picks up a knife from the drawer. "It's for protection," he tells Mike, and Zach feels the blade sliding into his pocket.

He tries to say something to Mike, to warn him and tell him to run, but he has no control of his mouth. Mike's scared, he can see. He knows something is up, but doesn't know what, and mutely hands over the ITDT when Sylar asks for it.

They try other places: Sasan's home, appearing in his bedroom behind a locked door. It's quiet.

They leave, Zach almost wanting to stay on for a while longer in the nostalgic voyeurism of a dream made real. But the nightmare made real gives him no mercy, and they enter yet another world.

#

"…or we could just stick his disembodied head in a safe and lock it up," Smudge is saying, the conversation having drifted back to the various graphically-violent ways Smudge can think up to permanently kill Sylar. "Then it won't have space to grow back.

"What do we do with the safe?" Adam asks, bored and deciding to play along.

Smudge shrugs. "We could give it to Zach."

"I don't think he'll want it," Leo says.

"Just because his head's in a safe doesn't mean Sylar won't come back," Adam says. "We've watched enough of the show to know that. He doesn't stay dead; it's the Universal Law of Sylar."

"But we're not in the show," Leo points out.

"He hasn't managed to stay dead so far, has he?" Adam counters.

Leo gives in.

"We could start a fire," Smudge declares suddenly. "Then they'll come running and we can find a furnace."

"No thanks," Adam mutters. "I don't want to go down in Star Trek history as one of the people who burned down Spock's quarters."

The door whooshes open. Sasan rushes in.

"Sas!"

"Hi," Sasan says, his eyes darting towards the temporarily-dead body on the ground. "Uh, I don't know how to say this, but we're in trouble."

"…because we were perfectly fine before," Adam says, floating in sarcasm. He gets out and drips with it.

"Did you find a furnace?" Leo asks.

"No. But I met your friend; the old guy? And there was someone else with him, and I think they have it in for us-"

Mike and some guy wearing clashing plaid and stripes appear in the room. Smudge catches a brief glint of familiar evil in the latter's eyes, and he goes suddenly alert.

Sasan is temporarily winded by the confirmed reality that someone would actually wear plaid and stripes together.

Leo looks uneasy for a more metaphysical reason.

"Hi," Mike says nervously.

Sylar turns and takes a step over to the dead body, and that's when Smudge shouts something incoherent and leaps off the bed with no regard for his injury, grabbing him and throwing him to the ground.

Trapped inside, Zach yells silently at the pain.

"Smudge!" Sylar gasps out. "It's me, it's Zachary, what are you do-"

A confirmation clicks in his head at the lengthened form of the name. "YOU THINK YOU CAN FOOL ME JUST BECAUSE I'M BISEXUAL?" Smudge screams at him.

A scowl. "Smudge, get off me."

"I KNOW YOU'RE SYLAR!"

The others are up, uncertain, moving closer-

Sylar sees Smudge's injured leg and grabs violently at it; in the cry of pain that ensues, he throws Smudge off, stumbling back to his feet and in one swift motion whips out the knife in his pocket and places it against his throat.

He grins. "Stand back or he dies."

Adam wants to say something. The words won't come. He settles for looking angry.

Sylar glances back towards his dead body, near him on the ground.

"We're not going to let you do that," Adam says, finding the words and a glare.

"I think you would," Sylar says dangerously, his free hand scrolling through random locations on the ITDT. He emphasises the knife against his throat. "For the life of Zachary Quinto. What is he worth to you?"

They don't say anything.

"One wrong move from you and he's gone," Sylar continues, and bluffs: "I could keep doing this all day until all of you are dead. You can't stop me."

He crouches down by the body, lowers the knife to grab his arm, gives them a final smirk, and teleports away.

They stand in silence. And then, Adam:

"Mike."

His voice is even. Doesn't look at him.

"I'm sorry-"

"I thought you were supposed to stay at home." Adam turns on him now, anger seeping in, shaking.

I just wanted to help, Mike thinks of saying, and then realises it wouldn't be a good idea. "I'm sorry," he repeats instead. "I didn't know, I've never met him before, I-"

Leo places a hand on his back. "Go home, Mike," he says softly, not unkindly.

"I'm sorry-"

"Don't blame the kid," a voice says. "He comes from a simpler world. Don't you, Mike?"

"…YOU," Smudge says from the floor, making to get up. Sasan won't let him.

Q finishes the last bite of his Big Mac. "It's Q, actually. U is this moron I went to school with."

"Who are you?" Mike asks.

"The other guy I was talking about," Sasan says.

Adam takes a step forward in a terrible attempt at looking menacing. His eyebrows do most of the work, but Q is the sort of person who doesn't get fazed by eyebrows. "Leave us alone."

Q dusts stray sesame seeds off onto the recently-cleaned carpet. "Do you want to know who Sylar is, Mike?" he asks. "You should, you know. That way you won't make the same mistake again."

And Q flings his hand at Mike, and his world goes dim. For a moment Mike panics. He turns on his feet and finds everyone frozen around him – only, no, they're still moving, just very, very slowly, and there's a thin grey veil separating him from the rest of them, soft to the touch but refusing to budge past a certain distance when he pushes at it; and then, on the wall behind him, a projected video starts playing in sync with his time.

Selected clips from Heroes. Sylar's finest moments.

Mike's gaze is drawn to the screen, transfixed against his will as the first of many scenes play out. His stomach knots in recognition. A deep, distressed fear creeps into his eyes.

He tears away from the screen; pushes against the veil with both hands. "Let me out!" he shouts, but the veil absorbs his cry. He shouts again, mutely, and then hears his voice twisted and thrown back at him from the screen, casually wielded in Sylar's mocking tones, cruel in its familiarity, and Mike doesn't want to look but he can't help himself.

He swallows. Tensed up, his breaths coming shallow and fast, eyes darting wild and lost and always finding their way back to the screen, because there's nothing else to look at in the near-frozen tableau he's in. He slides down against the veil, wanting the show to stop, wanting the isolation to break and let him through-

The scenes play out in unrelenting assault.

He watches the kills, cringes at the sawed-off skulls, gags at the brains. And he learns to fear the face behind the acts, once an innocent image in a mirror.

"Let me out," he pleads again, quietly, but the phrase catches in his throat the moment he starts, and dies off in a whisper.

Because he's learnt to fear the voice.

#

"What are you doing?" Leo asks, as they watch the speeded-up events in the bubble of time entrapping Mike.

Q shrugs. "Letting him watch TV."

"He doesn't need to see this-"

"Oh, I think he deserves to know who might come after him if he just goes home."

"He's been through enough," Leo says.

"Why," Q asks, "are you of the opinion that I care about your well-being?"

Adam pushes against the veil. It yields slightly, but no further. He turns to Q. "What do you want with us?"

"I haven't figured that out yet, actually."

Smudge glares at him. Q smiles back. Sasan crouches down and holds Smudge to himself.

Adam starts towards Q and tries to grab him, but a force field pushes him back.

"You can't hurt me," Q says casually.

Mike descends from his sitting position to lying on the floor, curled up in foetal position, trembling, his fingers plugged into his ears against the sound.

"Stop it," Adam says. "Let him out-"

Q sighs. "Oh, all right." He snaps his fingers. The video ends, veil of grey vanishes, and Q vanishes with it.

Leo rushes over to Mike's side. Still curled up on the floor, fingers in ears, eyes squeezed shut in desperation, knees drawn up towards his elbows.

"Mike-"

He winces at his voice but gives no response.

Leo reaches out a tentative hand to his shoulder. Mike tenses up further. Leo takes his hand away and stands up.

"What did he show him?" Adam asks. "Non-stop Sylar? That stuff was bad enough when we watched the whole show-"

"We shouldn't stay," Sasan says, glancing around the room. "He could be back any moment."

"Q or Sylar?" Adam asks.

"Either one. They know we're here."

"What do we do?" Leo asks, gesturing at Mike. "Bring him home? Would he be safe there?"

"He's not any safer here," Adam says.

"We should just go," Sasan interjects nervously, thinking about the conversation between Dem and Q. It's not over. And he doesn't want to stick around anymore than necessary.

Adam takes out his ITDT and scrolls to Mike's name.

"Okay, uh, same precautions as before," Leo says. "When… you get home, don't stay in the room you arrive in. That way it'll look as though you're not there, and hope that Sylar doesn't search any further."

Adam holds up the ITDT with one hand. "Let's go," he says, and holds out his other hand. Leo takes it; takes hold of Mike; Sasan grasps his elbow and holds on to Smudge, and then they teleport away together.

The small object-clearing force field generated upon arrival knocks over a lamp. Sasan deftly catches it and places it back on the end table.

Mike senses home. He raises frightened eyes to meet them, but doesn't say a word as he slowly gets to his feet and backs away.

"Mike?" Leo asks. "It's us." He thinks of adding you're safe now, but it would be a lie.

No response; until Mike lifts a shaking hand to point out his door. Get out.

The door flies open. Mike's mother, Allison, stands there gaping soundlessly at them. She sees her son, trembling against the wall with a broken look in his eyes, and-

Leo goes out to her, closing the door behind him.

Mike shuts his eyes.

Leo opens the door again. "Maybe you should all get out of there," he says. "In case you know who decides to drop by."

They move. Sasan insists on half-carrying Smudge along. Mike doesn't budge, silently beseeching them to leave with a tearful desperation in his eyes.

"…it's not safe there," Leo says, but Mike doesn't appear to hear, or care; he crawls onto his bed and curls up on it, clutching his pillow tight, body heaving in quiet dry sobs. He's safe enough here, for him. It's home. And Leo finally lets him be.

Mike's father is asleep and they do not wake him, gathered haphazardly in the living room. Leo lays out the situation for Allison; explains to the best of his ability the condensed account of who they are, who Sylar is, and why Mike possibly won't be recovering for a while and please not to let him run off to help them again.

Adam sits slightly apart, not contributing to the conversation; hands clasped between his knees, brow furrowed in concentration. Trying to work things out.

On the couch, Smudge lets out from behind gritted teeth the occasional short scream of pain as Sasan tries to manoeuvre his broken leg straight.

"Why should my leg be straight when I'm not?" Smudge cries out after a while of this.

Sasan sighs. "Okay, now you're just being ridiculous."

"You're not a doctor," Smudge says. "Don't touch it!"

"Yeah," Allison says, looking uneasily at Smudge and Sasan. "I don't think you should."

Sasan decides that they probably have a point. "All right," he says. "Then you're going home and visiting a proper hospital with people who actually studied this stuff."

He takes out the ITDT and is about to scroll; then his finger pauses over the button. He blinks.

The usual list of names is gone. In its place is a single destination.

Go Here! :)

Smudge peeks over his shoulder. "What did you do?" he asks.

"I didn't do anything."

Adam looks over. "What's up?"

Sasan holds up the ITDT. "The names are gone. There's just that."

Adam grabs his own out of his pocket. Same thing. Go Here. Sinister smiley face. He tries scrolling. Nothing happens. It's the only entry.

A sick feeling descends upon him.

"Mine too," Leo says.

"What's wrong?" Allison asks.

"It's Q, isn't it?" Sasan asks. "He doesn't want us to go home."

Adam and Leo and Sasan exchange looks of their individual brands of despair. Smudge looks bisexual. Allison looks lost.

"We can't… stay here forever," Leo says.

"We could end up anywhere," Sasan says. "And I don't think Q would send us to nice places."

"It might not be him," Leo says hopefully. "Maybe the things are just low on battery and that's where you go to recharge them."

No one is convinced.

"It could mean that Sylar can't go anywhere either," Adam says.

"Except there," Sasan points out. "And if we go there we'd be right there with him."

Adam shakes his ITDT. He thinks he sees the words on the screen change briefly to "don't shake me :(", but they're back to the single destination when he stops.

"It's not as though we have a choice," he says flatly.

Silence.

"Let's just go," Adam says, not looking at the others.

Leo nods. "Thanks for having us here," he tells Allison. "Try to get Mike out of that room if possible."

"All right. Is he okay?" she asks of Smudge.

"He'll be fine," Sasan says, helping Smudge off the couch. Smudge's foot hits the ground and he lets out a short scream. "…-ish," Sasan adds.

Smudge grabs him tight. The anaesthesia of anger has worn off, and the prospect of having his leg in a cast is starting to sound like not a bad idea after all.

Sasan takes Leo's hand. Leo takes Adam's.

Go Here! :) says the ITDT.

Adam presses the button, and they leave.

#

Several moments ago.

Michael Paul David carefully wipes a smudge of grime off his shopfront window and jumps at the sudden noise of boxes toppling in the backroom. He lowers the cloth uncertainly, glancing around the shop – he's alone – and cautiously steps towards the back.

"Hello?" he asks in a tentative voice. No reply, but there's almost definitely someone in there. He hesitates, wringing his hands. Perhaps he should call the police, or-

Or perhaps it's just a mouse. Or a rat. Not that he likes either, but there's no way a human could have got in without him noticing.

He places a hand on the doorknob and slowly pushes the door open.

And he stares.

"…Hi," Sylar says, looking up from where he's been about to resurrect his dead body. He tilts his head to one side. "Am I bothering you?"

Michael faints.

Sylar sticks the ITDT into the pocket of his dead body. It's weird looking at himself from the outside. He pushes his body over and grabs hold of the knife, then hesitates. It would be better if Zach were further away when he came back. Just in case he tried something.

Michael slowly revives on the floor. Sylar lets go of the knife and stands up. "You," he says, and gestures. "Pull that out."

Michael stares at him in timid confusion. "Who… who are you?"

"Someone you don't want to ignore," Sylar says, stepping over the fallen boxes and moving away from the backroom. "Trust me."

Michael looks at the knife.

"Yes, that," Sylar says, getting impatient. "Pull it out."

Hesitantly, Michael bends down. He casts another look at Sylar, meets a raised eyebrow, and pulls the knife out.

The wound starts closing up. Michael drops the knife in shock, watching in morbid fascination. "Is that… is that supposed to…"

The eyes open. Michael jumps back.

Sylar gets to his feet. "Yes," he replies, running a hand through his hair and looking at the faint specks of dried blood that come off onto his fingers. "Thank you."

Zach is where he left him, looking horrified and trying to hide it, but it's hard to act when threatened with the effects of such.

Sylar claps Michael on the shoulder and gains vague satisfaction at seeing him flinch. "Why don't you two stay and chat?" he asks, looking over to Zach. "Get to know each other, talk about how awesome I am…" He takes the ITDT out from his pocket. "…you know, keep each other company. I'm going home for a shower and lunch." He smiles. "I think I'll have waffles."

Too late, Zach lunges forward to try and snatch the ITDT out of his hand. But Sylar's gone, Zach clutches only air, and a startled, confused Michael grabs his arm to break the fall.

Zach swears.

Michael regards him with a nervous smile that comes across as borderline creepy and more than slightly unnerving. "Hiii," he ventures.

Zach wishes he were someplace else.

#

Dark.

Then their eyes adjust to the moonlight and the flickering white glow of the single streetlamp standing a distance away against a hedge.

It's a tall hedge of dark green leaves, stretching past the streetlamp and cutting behind them, walling them in on three sides.

The streetlamp lights the path ahead. There's not much they can see of it; it turns sharply to the right a few steps on, further into the maze.

Smudge tugs on Sasan's hand. "Sas."

"Mm?"

Smudge points upwards. "Two moons," he says.

They look up. There's a round moon of orange and a white crescent.

"Looks like we're not in Kansas anymore," Sasan says.

"We never were in Kansas," Smudge points out. "We both live in New York."

Leo steps forwards to the streetlamp and stands there, hands in pockets, gazing at it. It's an old-fashioned lamp; at least, it appears to be, but there's a small LED screen below the lamp with words shining out from it:

Good night, Quintoplets.

"…They made this place for us," Leo says.

The others come over and read the message.

"Is that a good thing or bad thing?" Adam asks.

"'Quintoplets'?" Sasan asks incredulously.

"I don't think they care about our well-being," Leo says. "But if they're just playing with us… they'd want to keep us alive." He looks down the turn in the hedge. There's a light in the distance, and he thinks he can make out a structure with concrete pillars on both sides.

Sasan checks his ITDT. The screen has gone dead. He presses the buttons, all to no effect. "It looks like we can't leave, anyway," he says.

Adam takes the lead. The others follow after, Smudge hobbling along with Sasan and Leo's support and being mad at himself for being a burden.

"We should think up worst-case scenarios," Sasan suggests. "That way whatever happens we might be relieved."

"Flesh-eating carnivores."

"All carnivores are flesh-eating, Smudge."

"What about zombies?"

"Those eat brains, which I think is a terrible lifestyle choice."

Adam hopes there won't be zombies. You need shotguns to fight zombies. They don't have shotguns. Sylar would probably make an effective zombie, he thinks. He's already got the brain obsession down.

Another streetlamp appears to continue lighting the path. The building ahead grows closer. They can see only the front of it: glass doors flanked by the pillars.

"Wait," Leo says, and stops walking, dragging Smudge and Sasan to a stop. "Hear that?"

They listen.

Voices. Human, distinct, but there are many, and they're coming from the building.

"People," Adam says.

"Why would they send us into a bunch of people?" Leo asks.

"They might be the sort who want to kill us," Adam says. He continues walking, apparently unperturbed by this, and the rest follow.

"If Dem and Q want to kill us they would have done so long ago," Sasan says. "They wouldn't go to all this trouble to have someone else do the dirty work for them…"

Sasan peters off, face growing ashen, though it's hard to see in the dim light. And the others can hear it too, now that they're almost at the door. These aren't just any people.

"…Go in," Leo says quietly.

Adam grips the door handle and pushes the glass doors open.

They enter.

The voices fall silent.

It's a makeshift prison. Rows of cells on both sides. The tops of the cells gape open to the high ceiling, from which jut an array of huge, long spikes moving slowly downwards.

And the people in the cells are more of them.

They've never met. They don't know their names yet: Peter Sullivan, Louis Ironson, Jay Lambert…

But they meet each other's eyes in mutual recognition, and see the fear in the more-than-familiar faces, tense hands grasping the bars, cast in the shadows of the descending spikes and the fear of impending death. They'd be skewered.

Adam lets out a curse.

On the far wall, a projected message shines:

YOU HAVE 10 MINUTES TO SAVE THEM.

And, as they watch, the 10 changes to a 9.