Quinto Formaggi
Written by Anakin McFly
6. Nothing to Hide
7. Family
8. For Now We See
9. Freedom
It was illogical to sit on the floor. So they had moved back into the common room, where there was a couch and several folded chairs that could be sat on.
And Adam asked himself why the presence of their new Vulcan floormate had given him hope; he might be half-alien, sure, but fundamentally he was in the same boat as the rest of them. Just as trapped, just as helpless, just as far away from home. Further.
Adam pulled open one of the cupboards overhanging the small kitchenette. Inside were snacks and drinks, some cutlery, all clean and waiting to be used.
He heard Gabriel chatting excitedly at Spock, all vestiges of his creepiness temporarily gone in his full-out Trekkie mode, looking as though several of his fantasies had just come true.
Smudge and Sasan were lounging idly on the couch, listening. Leo poked quietly through the bookshelves.
Adam made coffee in his little corner of the room.
I'm making coffee, he thought. Why.
He looked over at the others. He looked back at the coffee machine, merrily whirring away. The clean cup waiting. His hand on the counter, the contour of his fingers against the wood. The small packets of cookies. The dishcloth. The other cups, one for each of them, unless more people came and they'd have to share. More...
More of them, unwilling brothers, running, hiding, escaping, begging for their lives in the face of crimes they did not commit, trapped here, their strange and curious family, in this oasis of safety... a place that, despite himself, was almost starting to feel like a home.
"I know this is weird," Sasan had said, in hours ago that felt like an eternity. "You'll get used to it eventually, but it may take a while."
Adam wondered if he would miss them if they ever did get home.
But for now, his coffee was ready.
#
"We need a name," Smudge mused. "Like... Zachary's Army."
"Who are we fighting?" Sasan asked.
Smudge shrugged. "I don't know. Sylar maybe. It just sounds cool."
"No it doesn't," Sasan said. "It sounds like something that a kid in a playground would come up with to make himself feel more powerful than he really is."
"...You're just jealous that I came up with it first."
Adam came by carrying a cup of coffee. He pulled up a chair and sat down.
"Zachary's Army is a cool name, right?" Smudge asked, looking pointedly at Adam.
"..." said Adam, and drank his coffee.
"I'd say his silence means 'no'," Sasan told Smudge.
Smudge kicked the table.
"I don't think physically abusing the table is going to help."
Gabriel was going on about something or other in Episode 24. Spock was saying something about alternate timelines and looked faintly annoyed, which was a big deal because usually he didn't look anything.
"I thought we had established that the events you speak of are unfamiliar to me," he said. "Why do you keep asking these questions?"
Gabriel's face darkened. He shut up.
"Well, we know one thing," Sasan said, glancing at the door. "If anyone gets killed now, it's not by any of us. We've got an alibi."
"We're the only witnesses," Adam pointed out. "They wouldn't believe us. Peter already thinks we're harbouring Sylar."
"True," Sasan admitted. "But I'd love to see Peter burst in right now claiming that we just brutally murdered someone else. It'll help to reduce the paranoia."
"What does a serial killer look like?" Smudge asked.
"You," Adam said, and drank more coffee.
"Serial killer?" Spock asked.
"Apparently there's some guy named Sylar about who kills people in a serial fashion," Sasan said. "And he's supposed to be one of us, so this means that almost everybody wants us dead. Just in case."
"Do they expect that to stop him?"
"They might just want to find him," Adam said. "Contain the threat; know when they're really in danger of dying and it's not just one of us trying to get a sandwich."
Adam looked at his coffee cup. It was reassuring in the same way that tea was for the British.
"So everyone hates us," Smudge added. "But I think you'll be safe. You're different." Smudge's eyes trailed over the ears.
"I could always vouch for your innocence."
"That... won't work," Sasan said. "They don't trust us."
"But it would seem evident that only one of you could be guilty, and that it's unlikely that most or all of you would all condone these killings."
"Try telling that to Peter and his friends," Sasan said.
"We can't exactly have expected him to do anything else," Adam said. "Someone got murdered. With 'I Am Sylar' written on the wall; I mean, that's kind of-"
"He's trying to establish his identity as separate from you," Spock observed.
"We'd like to establish our identities as separate from his," Sasan muttered.
"And if that's the case, I doubt he would stay hidden much longer," Spock continued. "He seems to want to be recognised and have his work acknowledged as his, hence the signature. He wants them to know he was responsible. All of you are just standing in the way."
"So he's going to kill us?" Smudge asked.
"I would consider that a likely possibility. If so many are as afraid of him as you claim, he has to at least be powerful enough to survive on his own. He does not need you. The only thing you're doing is shifting the focus away from him."
Gabriel looked thoughtful, head bowed. "And he doesn't like that," he said, raising his eyes. "Because he wants to be special."
Spock tilted his head at him. "Yes," he said.
#
Resonance. The voices mingled, joined, flowed, many and yet one, one and yet many. If he shut his eyes, it felt as though he were eavesdropping on a conversation with himself.
And then Leo opened his eyes and the voices were suddenly still; and the air was suddenly still, and he found himself looking straight at a strange old man who had not been there seconds before.
The old man smiled. His eyes did not. "Hello, Leo Fulton Jr.," he said. "I'm the Mysterious Old Man. You may call me Dem."
Leo's hand clutched the bookshelf, not daring to move. Beyond Dem he saw the figures of the others, frozen in time as in a tableau. "What's going on?" he asked, his mouth dry.
Dem shrugged. He moved past Leo and inspected a snow globe on the shelf. "Stopped time for a while," he said. "I've been making the rounds on all the floors. It gives me something to do. Immortality can be a drag, sometimes. Thought we could have a little chat, play a little game..."
"Did you do all this?" Leo asked.
"In a manner of speaking."
"You brought us here?"
"Yes and no," Dem said. He tossed the snow globe up in the air and caught it. "Other people did the grunt work. I just... made suggestions." He smiled. He gestured at the desk. "Take a seat."
"It's all right, I think I can stand."
"Suit yourself." Dem returned the snow globe. "So how are you liking it here, Leo? Or shall I call you Henry?"
"Leo is fine. How do you know my name?"
Dem grinned. "How did I stop time? How am I immortal? Where did I get this magnificent coat? I think a simple database search is nothing compared to those."
"Why did you bring us here?" Leo asked. "We're just regular people who... want to live our lives in peace..."
"Fun," Dem said. "For fun. And to strain the fabric of the space-time continuum in hopes that it will one day just give in and disintegrate. ...Of course, I mean 'one day' in the metaphorical sense, because time is relative."
"The space-time... Destroy the universe?"
"Multiverse, actually," Dem corrected.
"But why... why would you want to do that?"
"Answers. To find out what is left when everything is gone. Want some cheese?" Dem asked. He pulled out a piece of mozzarella from one of his pockets and held it up.
"No thanks," Leo said. "But... why are you telling me all this? Why stop time... why not one of the others-"
"Vulcans annoy me, and Smudge is bisexual," Dem explained, throwing the piece of mozzarella into his mouth. "You're standing all alone here in this corner. Makes it easy. Do you want to know who Sylar is?"
Leo looked uncertainly at him.
"You're saying he's here?" Leo asked. "He's here in this room?"
"Maybe," Dem said. He smiled. "Of course, what would you do if I told you? Tell them that a mysterious old man suddenly appeared and told you who Sylar was? Kind of suspicious, don't you think? Alternatively..." Dem dug into the same pocket and pulled out a tiny vial of blood. "This is blood," he explained. "What do you think would happen if I spilled some of it on your shirt?"
Leo slipped his hand off the shelf and backed away. "What are you doing..."
"Someone was killed today," Dem said. "Neck sliced open. Lots of blood. Some splatter might have been expected. Don't you think your friends over there might feel better if they had someone concrete to blame? And to lock up in a room or hand over to Peter and company, safe in the illusion that it's all over?"
"You're crazy," Leo whispered.
"Oh yes, probably. Nine psychiatrists told me that, and most of them were sane. But I think I'm just bored, and humans are so fun to play with. I just want to know what would happen if they all think you're Sylar. I'm curious. Aren't you?"
"Get away from me," Leo gasped. He stumbled backwards into the time-stopped tableau... and then he saw the sprinkle of red fly towards him and land on his clothes, the spots drying and browning with artificial age, and he saw Dem's almost malicious smile mouth see you later, Leo, and then time started moving again-
"No!" he shouted, and then he realised that everyone was staring at him, wondering about his sudden exit from the corner of shelves.
"No?" Spock queried.
Leo glanced back at the shelves. Dem was gone.
"There... was..." he started, pointing, and broke off.
"There was what?" Gabriel asked.
A mysterious old man called Dem who just appeared out of nowhere, flicked blood at me and then disappeared, Leo thought.
"What's that on your shirt?" Sasan asked.
Leo tried to wipe it off in a quick, futile gesture. The others were all staring at him.
"I-" he started.
"Is that blood?" Sasan asked.
Adam put his coffee cup down on the table.
"There was a man," Leo said hurriedly. "He just appeared out of nowhere and he knew about us, and he... threw blood at me-"
"That's awfully convincing," Sasan remarked.
Adam stood up and approached Leo with cautious steps. "Or you're Sylar, and blood got on you when you killed that guy," he said warily.
Leo shook his head. "No..."
Adam glanced at the specks of blood. "It doesn't look fresh to me."
"I'm telling the truth!"
"Really?" Adam demanded, backing him against the shelf. "Some guy appeared out of nowhere, flicked blood at you, and then vanished?"
"Look, I know it sounds crazy, but-"
Smudge got off the couch to join Adam.
"What were you doing back here on your own?" Smudge asked. "Trying to get rid of the evidence?"
"I'm not Sylar! I swear!"
"We're not that gullible," Adam said, glaring, shaking slightly with fear. "You've got to do better than your mysterious vanishing guy. Why haven't you killed us yet, huh? What are you waiting for?"
"This isn't happening," Leo murmured, despairing under the weight of the accusing glares. He looked to the side, and saw the door open. He could leave, right now – run for it; there was no getting out of this; he didn't need them, anyway, didn't care if the rules said to stay on the seventeenth floor; he could be alone, and safe, and-
Leo dashed towards the door. Adam caught him and shoved him down to the ground, his head cracking against the side of the shelf, yelling as the pain and tears flooded his vision, seeing Adam shouting something as he sent the first blow against his jaw:
"I'm sick of it, okay? We can't go anywhere without people attacking us! Does that make you happy? Huh? Does it?"
"I'm... not... Sylar," Leo tried to say, his voice weak to his own ears as the second blow came; but then he saw hands pulling Adam off him, Adam struggling, and then a figure was leaning over him and pressing cool fingers to his hurting head, and Leo slipped gratefully into a wash of calm logic as another's thoughts probed gently at his weary mind.
Spock broke the mind meld and lifted his fingers off. "He's telling the truth," he said. He raised his head to survey the rest of the room. "It seems we're being watched. Someone is playing with us."
Silence.
"Why would anyone do that?" Adam asked, trying to catch his breath. "What do they want with us?"
"Fun," Leo managed, barely audible. "He said it was for fun."
Adam looked at him. "Sorry," he said curtly.
Leo nodded, eyes shut, hand clutching his head in pain.
"Hey, you could do that mind meld thing to all of us," Sasan suggested to Spock. "Just to check and see that we're all in the clear and none of us are secretly Sylar."
"What if one of you is?" Spock queried.
"Then we kill him," Smudge suggested with a bit too much enthusiasm.
"There are six of us here," Gabriel said calmly. "Five against one would be pretty good odds."
"Yeah," Adam agreed.
And so he was declared safe. And Smudge, Sasan...
Gabriel.
Mentally, Spock gave a start.
<Sylar.>
Gabriel's face remained impassive.
<Congratulations, pointy ears. You found me. What do you do? What do you do?>
<I have to tell them.>
<And then they'll try to kill me. And I'd have to kill them. Which shouldn't take more than a few seconds, but you know that now, don't you?>
<Your pride suggests you want to reveal yourself on your own terms, and if I tell->
<-I wouldn't have much of a choice. I like your brain, by the way. It's... so precise. Like a machine... a perfectly running clock... You don't know how hard it is for me to resist the urge to slice your head open and take a closer look.>
<I have to tell.>
<You're changing the topic. Why can't we talk about your brain? But if you insist. Tell them, and they die. Keep it a secret and they'll live. For now. What's it going to be, pointy ears?>
<I do have a name, which I believe you were fully capable of utilising in our earlier interactions.>
<You're not exactly in a position to be making demands, are you? They're waiting for your verdict, pointy ears. What will it be? Will they die or will they live?>
<The whole point of this was to establish that we were safe->
<And if you tell them, none of you will be safe. You'll be dead. Amazing how this works, isn't it. Come on: what's the logical thing to do?>
"...He's safe," Spock announced.
Sasan dropped back on the couch in relief.
"Are you sure you're all right?" Adam asked Leo. "I only hit you twice."
"His head also impacted on the shelf," Spock pointed out vaguely, his mind elsewhere.
"Did I ask for your opinion?"
"No."
"I'm okay," Leo said, getting up. "I just... need to lie down for a while."
"There are a lot of beds out there," Sasan said. "Just choose one."
"Okay." Leo staggered out the door. Back in the corridor, then into the cool, dark interior of one of the rooms. He shut the door and climbed onto the bottom bunk; sank down onto the pillow and closed his eyes-
The room flickered with entry.
"And that," Dem said, who was suddenly leaning against the wall of the room and casually munching on his mozzarella, "is why Vulcans annoy me."
"Why are you back?" Leo whispered from the bed, blinking at Dem through the fog of pain.
Dem shrugged. "I have all the time in the universe," he said. "Several universes, actually. I think I can spend it wherever I like and however I like, and at the moment, that happens to be right here. Consider it a compliment." He sat down on the desk and took another bite of cheese.
"You've had your fun," Leo said, rolling over to face the wall. "Just leave me alone."
Dem jabbed a finger at his back. "I don't like mortals telling me how I should or should not entertain myself. Understand this, Leo: I've seen things you wouldn't believe. Ships aflame in the depths of an oxygen ocean; teapots duelling off the rings of Saturn; werth in the rain. I've been through time and space and witnessed the creativity of a thousand species, but nothing has ever come close to meddling with the delightful psychology of your human race." Dem smiled. "You are... so... fun... to play with."
Leo covered his ear with his hand.
#
Smudge had rejoined Sasan on the couch, and Spock and Gabriel were eyeing each other. Adam felt suddenly ignored. He filled a cup with water and left the room, hoping it would suffice for saying 'I'm sorry for hitting you twice because I thought you were a psychopathic serial killer'.
The sound of a voice drew him to a halt outside Leo's room. There was someone else in there. Adam pressed his ear against the door. Something about teapots. The voice was unfamiliar; not one of them.
Open the door, he told himself, his pulse hiking up. Adam glanced down the corridor back at the common room and wondered if he should get help, but if he left, whoever was inside might as well...
Adam grasped the door knob with his free hand, feeling the cool metal beneath his palm. He steeled himself, then threw the door open.
For a second his shocked eyes met those of the strange old man in the room.
And then the old man vanished.
Leo had rolled back over at the sound of the door. He gazed at Adam in a daze.
"Who was that..." Adam started. "Who was that?"
"I told you," Leo said quietly. "He's the mysterious old man."
Adam looked helplessly at the spot where Dem had been just seconds before. "What does he want?"
"I don't know," Leo said. "He's just crazy."
Adam remembered the cup in his hand. He held it out.
Leo took it. "Thanks."
"...You should move back to the main room," Adam said. "In case he comes back."
Leo nodded. "All right."
#
"I saw him," Adam said, entering the common room with Leo trailing behind. "That man."
"Who was mysterious and old and seemed to appear out of nowhere," Spock elaborated, looking at Leo.
"Yeah," Adam said. He shut the door. "I think we should stick together. He vanished when he saw me, so I don't think he likes more than one person around when he drops by."
"Sticking together won't solve the problem," Sasan said. "We were all in this room the first time he came."
"Yeah," Leo said, sitting down on the last free bit of couch. "He can stop time and single out anyone he wants. So far it's just been me."
"Why you?" Gabriel asked.
Leo laid his head back on the couch and shut his eyes. "I don't know. He said he doesn't like Vulcans and bisexuals."
Spock raised an eyebrow.
"So there's nothing we can do to stop him coming back?" Adam asked.
"Why doesn't he like bisexuals?" Smudge cried.
"It's all right, Smudge," Sasan said quietly. "I like you."
Adam went over to the shelves and the stuff on them. He pushed aside a snow globe and reached for the digital camera nested behind it. He hefted it into his hand.
"We've just got to learn to trust each other," Gabriel said.
"I don't think that's entirely wise-"
"Or the next time, someone might actually end up dead," Gabriel continued, looking pointedly at Spock. "The people out there hate us. They're terrified... suspicious... why bring all of that here? We need to know we're safe around each other." Gabriel paused, and some strange expression passed briefly over his face. "Because we're a family."
#
Remember who you are, Sylar told himself. You're not one of them. You're better. You're special. You don't need those pathetic weaklings sapping up all your glory. You're the only one whom all those people should fear; not them. They are nothing, nobodies, unworthy to be deemed your acquaintances let alone your family. Like Mom and Dad. They never understood what you could do. They never appreciated your potential. They were not strong enough to accept what you could become. They were not special.
And everyone else here will be like that, caught up with their fears and deluded notions of morality. They're terrified. Look beyond the physical: you have nothing in common with them. They're no more than a passing nuisance... an annoyance... that can be easily wiped away so that you can reclaim your true identity and everyone will know that it is you and you alone who is responsible for the horrors they will know. They will know who to fear. They will know who to run from... and they will not be able to run.
But Gabriel observed the calm lull in the room, and something tugged painfully at his heart as Smudge snuggled up to Sasan. He almost wanted this; to belong, to hide, to be... insignificant.
But he could still sense the power out there, just out of reach, waiting for him to take it, claim it, make it his own, and the hunger became an overpowering force over the pieces of his human self that still cried out for a home: the part that wanted to walk away from that other life and just be Gabriel Gray once more, that wanted to be safe among these people and have them be safe around him, to band together and hold each other up no matter what other people might throw at them, to celebrate that they probably had the most epic eyebrows in the whole of Kenselton Hotel, to be the family he had always searched for and never really had.
But the hunger said no, and so he bit the fantasies down with anger and cast fury on the part of him that had ever wanted them. To give in would be weak. He was above this, above them. He needed no friends nor family. He worked alone. He was Sylar, and he would never forget it.
#
Adam turned on the camera. It gave a whistling beep and the screen lit up. He went to rejoin the others, gaze not leaving the screen.
"What are you doing?" Sasan asked.
Adam realised the couch was occupied and sat back down on his chair. "Recording a statement. If we can get this out to the Internet, maybe someone can find us and get us out of here."
"Don't you think they would have thought of that?" Gabriel asked.
Adam turned the camera to face himself and swivelled the screen around. He took a breath, then pressed the Record button. A red circle popped up on the screen. REC.
"My name is Adam Kaufman," he said at the camera. "I'm being held prisoner with a lot of other people at a place called Kenselton Hotel-"
"This isn't going to work," Sasan said.
"-and that's Sasan interrupting me-"
"Give me that," Sasan said, and took the camera from him. He smiled into the lens. "Hi. We're stuck in here and we don't want to be. A few people also want to kill us."
"And if they kill us we will die," Smudge said with fatalistic certainty.
Sasan turned the lens to him to give him some air time. Adam rolled his eyes.
"...So if you can get us out, that'll be really cool," Smudge added emphatically.
"I'm recording over that," Adam muttered.
"No, you're not," Sasan said, swivelling the screen back around so he could see what he was filming. "This is a team effort, and the tape stays rolling. Hey, Leo: want to say anything, or would you prefer to remain semiconscious?"
Leo batted the camera away.
"Even considering the possibility that anyone watches the video, it's highly unlikely that they will know what to do about it," Spock said.
Sasan pointed the camera at him.
"You're holding it slanted," Adam said, annoyed at not having the camera.
Sasan straightened it.
"We don't even know where we are," Spock said. "How would anyone know where to find us?"
"Google," Adam said in a resigned sort of way.
"How would a huge number help us?" Spock asked.
"Tell them we're not Sylar," Smudge suggested.
Sasan turned the camera back to himself. "We would also like to take this opportunity to categorically state that none of us are a serial killer by the name of Sylar, and would tremendously appreciate it if everyone stopped assuming so."
"Yeah," Smudge agreed.
"This is the worst video ever," Adam muttered.
"Any further complaints, Kaufman?" Sasan questioned, pointing the camera at him.
"No."
"What do you expect anyone to do?" Gabriel asked.
"Break us out of here," Smudge said.
"How?"
Smudge shrugged. "Beam us out, like in Star Trek?"
"This isn't-" Gabriel started, then remembered pointy-eared company.
Sasan had stood up to film a nice panning shot of the whole room.
"See if there are brands on anything," Leo murmured, eyes still closed. "If we can find out which companies have goods here maybe they'll have information on who bought them."
"Everything's unbranded," Sasan asked.
"What about the Coca Cola vending machines?" Adam asked.
"That doesn't count," Sasan said. "Coca Cola is everywhere." He dropped back down onto the couch. "Still rolling. Anything else you'd like to say?"
"Just end the video," Adam said, glaring at the carpet.
"All right." Sasan's finger hovered over the button, then he hesitated and withdrew it. He slowly turned the lens back around to face himself, adjusting the screen...
"And, um," he started, haltingly. "If... you're... watching this..." Sasan broke off. He took a breath and let it out, and gave a nervous smile at the camera. "Hi, Zachary."
He ended the recording.
Adam held out his hand.
Sasan put the camera in it.
"Thank you," Adam said.
Adam left the camera by the laptop and went to search amongst the shelves for a cable to transfer the video over.
"Need my help?" Sasan asked.
"No." Adam pushed aside a mushroom plushie and a box of orange Tic Tacs that claimed an expiry date of 'tomorrow'. He moved on to the next box, opened it, and hesitated.
DVDs. The complete Heroes collection. So NoTORIous. Star Trek XI. The entire third season of 24...
Adam let the box flap close and returned to the laptop. He brought up one of the saved tabs, scrolled down the filmography, read titles, and looked back at the box. Sasan had reopened it and was scanning covers, reading synopses...
"We should leave them," Adam said.
"Or," Sasan said, putting down his several hours of fame and holding up the complete Heroes collection, "we could find out who Sylar is."
Gabriel came up to join them. "What's that?" he asked.
"Answers," Adam said, taking the box-set from Sasan and opening up Season 1. "This should tell us all we need to know about Sylar."
"Is that the new Star Trek?" Gabriel asked, pulling it out from the box. His eyes lit up. "Can we watch this instead?"
Adam had left and was crouched by the DVD player beneath the TV.
Sasan pulled a long cable out from behind the box. "Hey, Adam," he called out. "I think I found what you're looking for."
"Great."
"Are you really going to watch some guy kill people when you could be watching Star Trek?" Gabriel asked.
"Do you wish to live long and prosper?" Adam asked, not looking up.
Spock raised an eyebrow.
Sasan also discovered a flash drive and a CD labelled 'My First Mangosteen'. He put the CD back and brought the flash drive out.
Adam was fiddling with the remote control. Sasan waved the flash drive at him.
"Get that thing out of my face."
(The metaphor is odd, Spock thought. It is not in his face. If it were, we would see it protruding out of his skin and he would be in excruciating pain.)
"If you can't get the video online, just save a copy here and maybe we could try to sneak it out somehow," Sasan said.
"Why is there a button on this remote that says 'Lens Flare'?"
Adam pressed it. Lens flare flared across the blank television screen and faded off.
"...Cool," Smudge said.
Spock suddenly felt homesick.
"I'll... leave you to work that out," Sasan decided, "and I'll go and transfer the video." He disappeared back behind the shelves.
Adam stared at a button labelled 'I'm Only Here to Confuse You'.
He worked with computers and miscellaneous tech stuff. He was not going to be defeated by a stupid remote control.
"Maybe the disc is broken," Gabriel suggested. "We should try Star Trek."
'Not Work,' said a button. Adam pressed it. The DVD played.
Kaufman: 1. Remote Control: 0.
Adam got off the floor in silent triumph and went to sit on the couch and work the menu, which seemed to be responding well to regular arrow buttons.
Episode 1 of Heroes Season 1 started. Words scrolled up the screen in introduction.
Smudge reached over for the remote. Adam glared at him.
"I just want to do the lens flares," Smudge explained.
"No."
"But they're cool."
"No."
"Is this because I'm bisexual?"
"Yes."
Smudge looked devastated.
Gabriel was staring at the screen in trepidation.
"You're sitting in Sasan's place," Smudge informed Adam in a passive-aggressive sort of way.
"Uh-huh."
Leo wished they would shut up because it was making his head hurt.
Peter, Gabriel recognised on the screen. I bet you thought no one was watching your dreams.
Spock contemplated the metaphysics of what separated fiction from reality and kept an eye on Gabriel.
"All right," Sasan said minutes later, emerging from behind the shelves with the flash drive. "The video's in here."
Adam was lost in concentration on the show.
"Do you want it or shall I keep it?" Sasan asked.
"Keep it," Adam said vaguely, not looking at him.
Sasan slipped the flash drive into his pocket. He glanced at the TV. "Has he appeared yet?"
"No," Smudge said. "And Adam's sitting in your place."
Sasan sat down on a chair. "Don't worry. I'm fine."
Smudge glared at Adam. Adam ignored him.
The last of the opening credits appeared and faded.
"Did Zachary's name come up?" Sasan asked.
"Don't think so," Adam said, still engrossed.
"That means he's not in this episode."
"Some background knowledge might prove beneficial," Spock said. "If we know the context of his appearance, it could help us form a more accurate idea of who he-"
Something utterly awesome happened on screen.
It convinced everyone to just continue watching, except for Leo, who was either unconscious or asleep.
"Does this place have popcorn?" Smudge asked.
"Wait for lunch," Sasan said.
Episode 2. Don't Look Back.
The unspoken tension hung in the air between them as they witnessed the aftermath of kills attributed to Sylar: the brutally bloodied corpses stuck in the wall, the top of their heads sliced open, their brains not there.
The onscreen characters debated the culprit; but the small audience knew who had done it, and they knew what he looked like.
Adam felt sick.
Episode 3. One Giant Leap.
The name still didn't appear in the credits.
"I think the filmography might mention which episodes he was in," Sasan realised.
"Yeah," Adam agreed, wanting an excuse to move and break the tension. He got up and went over to the laptop. Smudge looked at his vacated seat and looked imploringly at Sasan, who either didn't take the hint or was too polite to move.
"Episode eight," Adam said, returning. He picked up the remote control and navigated his way back to the main menu and the eighth episode.
"If we skip everything we won't know what's going on," Gabriel said.
"We're not watching this for entertainment," Adam muttered, as the episode started playing. Seven Minutes to Midnight.
They silently recognised the hand that appeared as the camera panned up towards the shadowed figure. Adam tensed in his seat. Gabriel did too.
They watched the murder.
Episode 9. Homecoming.
A too-familiar finger drew a line in the air. A head split open. Blood sprayed on a banner.
Sasan's fist was against his mouth. Adam sat paralysed in his seat. Smudge clenched a fist. Leo watched in silence. Spock looked faintly disturbed. There was a glint in Gabriel's eye.
The door opened. Adam turned his head briefly to look, judged the newcomer not to be a threat, and returned his attention to the screen.
"What the bloody hell is this?" the newcomer asked.
He sounded suspiciously like a Beatle. Adam took a second glance and reassured himself that it wasn't a Beatle.
"We're watching TV," Adam said tensely, going back to doing just that, and trying to suppress the revulsion that rose in his mind. The hands that had killed that cheerleader were identical to his. That eye that appeared in the close-up...
"This is not happening," said the not-Beatle. "No. Someone must have slipped something in my drink, and when I wake up I am going to..." He broke off. "Is that Spock?"
"Yeah," Smudge said.
"Wh... w... Okay. This is a dream. An extremely strange and surreal-"
Adam grabbed the remote and looked for the volume control to drown him out. It was nowhere to be seen, although it did have buttons that said 'More Cowbell' and 'ROSES!'. He found the pause button ('BRB') and hit it instead, then turned and glared at the newcomer.
"What's your name?"
"...Paul. Paul Kingsley. Who-"
"We're in the middle of something. Either join us and shut up, or get out. Okay? Because this is important."
"You're watching television," Paul observed. "I really don't think that's-"
"The contents of this television programme might greatly aid us in our continued survival," Spock said, and then felt Gabriel's eye on him; "I am not condoning this activity, just stating a fact."
"Oh yeah? Well, perhaps you could start doing some explaining because I dearly want to know what's going on here."
"So does everyone else," Adam said forcefully.
"What is wrong with you?"
"You sound like a Beatle," Smudge said in awe, before Adam could reply.
Paul stared at him.
Adam got up from the sofa and tossed the remote control onto the table. "Carry on without me," he said. "I've seen enough."
"Adam-"
"Can we watch Star Trek now?"
"There's a British Holdout Group," Adam said to Paul as he passed him, not looking at him. "Join them."
Adam went out into the corridor and forced his trembling legs into one of the rooms. He slammed the door shut, hit it, and then slid down it to crumple onto the floor; hugging himself, recoiling from his own touch, shaking, and trying not to cry as images of murdered corpses and sinister faces peering out from under caps played themselves over and over again in his head.
#
"Adam?"
He opened his eyes. He turned to the door, and was about to get up and open it when he hesitated. "Who's that?"
"Sasan."
Adam got to his feet and quietly locked the door. "Prove it," he said.
"...Well, I could tell you about how your first attempts at escape resulted in nothing but cheese, or I could give you a complete critical analysis of everything that is wrong with Zachary Quinto's fashion sense. Which would you prefer?"
Adam unlocked the door and opened it.
Sylar, he thought, but Sasan was busy exuding an air of innocence and the impression did not last long.
"It's getting late," Sasan said. "If we want to get lunch before the crowds come, we should hurry. Paul went off to find the group you mentioned so you needn't worry about him. ...Are you all right? You look kind of pale."
Adam left the room. "I'm ok."
#
"Hello!" said Dem cheerily, appearing out of nowhere in the common room. Those present gave a start.
"So, as I was telling your friend here," Dem said, giving Leo a nod, "Vulcans annoy me. I don't like to be annoyed." He smiled menacingly at Spock.
"I don't believe we've been acquainted-"
"Nope, we haven't," Dem admitted. "But I still don't like you. And you neither, you bisexual smudge."
Smudge glared and leapt off the sofa. "Take that back!" he shouted.
"Nah," Dem said. "I'll just take this." He put a hand on Spock's shoulder and vanished with him.
Sasan and Adam rushed into the room.
"What happened?" Sasan asked.
"He came back," Leo said. Something seemed to be up with the vision in his left eye.
"And he took pointy ears," Gabriel said; and there was something about his voice and the way he looked at them that was familiar in a different way.
"...Well, if he won't be back any time soon, want to set off for lunch?" Sasan asked.
"Yeah," Smudge said, slightly forlorn at having been called a bisexual smudge.
"I'll stay here," Leo said, deciding that something was definitely up with the vision in his left eye, and nausea was creeping up on him to join in the party.
"I'll stay with him," Gabriel offered. "I'm not hungry."
Adam went to get the laptop. "The video's in here, right?" he asked Sasan.
"Yeah, and I've got another copy with me."
"Why would he take Spock?" Smudge asked. He missed having ears to stare at.
"I don't know," Sasan said.
They went off for lunch. Silence filled the common room as the door swung shut and the footsteps faded down the corridor.
Leo lay curled up on the sofa.
Sylar watched him.
"It's nice to be alone, isn't it?" he remarked. "It's so... quiet."
He moved over to Leo's side and pulled up a chair; sat down, and let himself gaze uninterrupted at the dozing face, his eyes sweeping over the familiar features with a growing hunger; prodding at Leo's brain, digging into the little he could sense from it, slipping into the fragmented mental landscapes that were at the moment bowed to pain.
#
Dem teleported Spock into the seventeenth floor's locked broom cupboard for the lulz after having knocked him unconscious for the lulz.
#
"Try YouTube," Sasan suggested in response to Adam's wondering aloud about where to upload the video.
"What's that?" Adam asked, typing 'youtube' into the search bar.
"It's a video-sharing site. It's huge."
Adam arrived at YouTube, created an account, and located the video upload page.
"Title... description..."
"The title can be 'Get Us Out of Here' and the description can be 'read the title'." Sasan brought a forkful of spaghetti to his mouth. "Or you could say it's porn. That might help us get more views."
"Yeah," Smudge agreed. "Call it 'Hot Naked Bisexuals with Video Cameras' or something."
Adam gave them both a look. "No."
Sasan shrugged. "Just being practical."
Adam went with 'URGENT – NEED HELP – NOT A JOKE' and a description that said 'read the title'. He attached the video file and submitted the form. The progress bar let him know that it would be done in eight hours.
"It's going to take eight hours," he said. "We can't stay here that long. We'll either get beaten up again or the guards will know something's up."
"You could always leave the laptop here," Sasan said.
"What if someone steals it? Or accidentally stops the upload, or-"
"Hide it."
"Where?"
Sasan glanced around the white spacious cafeteria and realised that this was a good question.
"The guards might find it," Adam continued, watching two patrolling robotic sentries pass by several tables down.
Sasan pushed Adam's plate towards him. "Look... just eat. Forget about the video. Even if you did get it online there's not much chance of anyone seeing it. At least no one who could actually help us."
Thirty-two hours, the YouTube progress bar decided instead, before dropping down to fourteen in the fluctuating strength of the wireless internet connection.
Adam gave up and cancelled the upload. He picked up his fork and ate.
#
"It's true what he said," Sylar commented, not caring if Leo heard or understood. "It's hard to feel special in this place. And that's all I ever-"
A sound from outside stopped him. Uncertain footsteps exiting the lift, heading for the door. Sylar rose smoothly out of his seat.
"There's someone there," he said, and again the bloodlust tugged at his heart. It was not about obtaining powers, now; not this time. Just the urge to kill, to make his mark, to reclaim himself.
Through the doorway he saw the newcomer enter the corridor.
He smirked. This kill would be easy.
Monty Rodriguez gawked at the figure standing in the corridor, the shadowed face spread in a grin that drove terror into his heart.
"It's nice to be alone, isn’t it?" the voice said.
Monty pushed his glasses up his nose with a hand and started backing away amid nervous smiles. "I... I'm sorry," he stammered. "I think there must have been a mistake, I don't think I'm supposed to be here, but I'll go now and-"
"There's been no mistake," the figure said, and with a flick of his fingers pinned Monty against the wall.
The young man gasped in shock, grabbing at the invisible hold on his neck. "How are y-... what are you doing..."
"Clearing an obstacle," came the reply, and the starts of a scream burst mutely into blood.
"Boring old sods," came the annoyed Beatle-accented mutter from outside the door. "Just sitting around drinking-"
The door swung open and Paul drew to a halt as he took in the scene.
Sylar released his grip and let Monty fall lifelessly to the ground. He turned to Paul and grinned.
"...Tea?"
#
"Sas?" Smudge asked.
"Mm?"
"If we get home, can I go with you?"
"I don't think so."
"Why not?"
"Smudge, you've got to go home."
"I don't want to go home. I wanna stay with you."
"What about your friends? Your family?"
"They don't like me," Smudge said sadly. "Because I'm bisexual."
Adam got more food into his mouth and turned restlessly back to the computer. He opened up Wikipedia and typed 'sylar' into the search bar.
"I've got my own life, Smudge. How would I explain who you are?"
"You could just tell them the truth."
Silence.
"We'll see."
Adam ate another mouthful of spaghetti and glanced back at the loaded page.
His breath caught. The feeling of creeping dread came back.
"...Gabriel is Sylar," he said.
"What?"
"He was banned," Adam realised. "That's why he was banned, and I let him come, and-"
Smudge blinked. "But Spock said-"
"I know what he-"
"Leo is with him," Sasan said.
"..."
Adam shut the laptop and grabbed it and they ran back to the seventeenth floor of Block J.
#
"Hello, Leo."
Leo didn't respond.
"That looks pretty bad," Dem said. "Minor brain damage. Sylar won't like that."
Leo opened his eyes.
"You're probably going to die," Dem said wistfully. "But since I'm feeling kind today I'll give you a little break; let you end your life healthy. What do you say about that?"
Leo just gazed up at him from the couch. He thought he heard a scream from outside.
Dem reached out a hand and touched him. All the pain and discomfort was sucked away. Leo sat up, suddenly alert.
"Why don't you go have a look at what Gabriel's doing out there?" Dem asked with a large smile. "Taking a while, isn't he?"
Leo glanced towards the door and back at Dem. "What did you mean when you said I'm probably going to die?"
"Which word in that sentence do you not understand?"
Leo left the couch and backed away from Dem.
"Not even a thank you?" Dem asked. "I healed you."
"Thanks. What did you do with Spock?"
"You ask too many questions," Dem said, and vanished.
Leo approached the door haltingly; put his hand on the door knob, turned it, and opened the door.
"...Gabriel?" he said.
The man straightened up from the second dead body on the ground, blood dripping from his hands.
He looked at Leo. He smirked. "My name is Sylar."
Leo started to close the door when the knob flew out of his hand and the door banged back open.
"Why," Leo asked, stepping back. "What do you want from me, why did you kill those-"
"Pointy ears was right," Sylar said, enjoying the slow approach. "All of you are just standing in my way."
He flashed open his palm and slammed Leo against the wall.
"Do you know what it's like to kill you?" Sylar asked. "It's like eliminating those parts of myself I don't like very much. There's no point in kicking, Leo. You're not getting off this wall alive until I let you."
"We'll just go, all right?" Leo asked desperately. "We'll get off this floor and go somewhere else and leave you alone-"
"That's not going to work. I'll know you're there. Other people will know you're there. Sometimes they might think you're me, and I don't like that." Sylar grinned. "And this is more fun, isn't it? You should see the look on your face."
"Please-"
Sylar tiled his head. "Please what?"
"...I just want to go home," Leo managed, choking back tears.
Sylar shrugged. "We can't always get what we want." He raised his finger. "Any last words?"
Spock dropped him with a nerve pinch.
Flimsy broom cupboards were no match for a determined Vulcan.
Sylar lay unconscious on the floor. The telekinetic grasp was broken. Leo slipped off the wall and landed on the carpet, tears of relief falling down his face.
"I apologise for not being able to get here s-"
Leo hugged him.
The trio stopped short in the doorway as the scene first hit their eyes: the bloodied corpses on the carpet, too familiar for their liking. Sasan shouted, stumbled back on instinct; Adam fearfully gazed ahead towards the open door at the end, and started his way forward.
"They're dead," said Smudge in morbid observation, looking back at his friend.
Sasan had recovered somewhat from the shock and deigned to enter the corridor. "We were too late," he said in shaking tones. "Adam – what if he's still there?"
Adam didn't reply as he kept going, his face set, troubled.
"He's new," Smudge commented as they passed Monty.
Leo appeared in the doorway of the common room. "...You're back," he said.
Adam dropped all caution and ran up to him. "Where is he?" he asked.
"He is unconscious for the moment," Spock spoke up, "but he may not stay down for long."
"He saved my life," Leo said, indicating him. "If he hadn't got here in time..."
Adam warily regarded the still form on the floor. Slowly, heart racing, he crouched down before it as Sasan and Smudge came in to join them.
"Sylar," Adam said.
Smudge dropped down by his side. "We should kill him," he stated.
Adam nodded, but didn't budge, curiosity and fear rooting him to the spot. Leo bent down and handed him a knife from the kitchenette.
Adam looked up at him. "I... I can't," he said, standing. "Let someone else-"
"I'll do it," Smudge said firmly, and plucked the knife out of Leo's hand. He raised it into the air, hesitated a moment, and then, with a yell, plunged it straight into Sylar's chest.
The others jumped back at the blood.
Smudge stabbed him again. And again, with an angry, determined violence that seemed disproportionate to the situation. Gripping the knife, twisting it, yanking it out for another go-
Sasan reached out a tentative hand to him. "Okay, Smudge, I think that's-"
Oblivious, Smudge glared at the increasingly bloody body before him and brought the knife forcefully down again.
Blood covered his hand and specked his face and clothes. Somewhere in their midst, tears fell.
"...Smudge?"
Smudge dropped the knife, shaking, breaths coming in gasps, and backed away, not looking at any of them, a strange, wild sadness in his eyes. He perceived the blood on his hands and wondered vaguely at it... walked with stumbling steps into the adjoining bathroom, and shut the door.
Silence.
Sasan quietly broke off from the group and went over to the bathroom. He knocked on the door. "Smudge?"
After several seconds of no reply, he pushed open the door and entered.
Smudge was facing away from him, shaking, his forehead pressed against his arm on the wall.
"Hey."
Smudge turned his head at the voice and gazed at Sasan with a hollow expression.
Sasan pulled a hand cloth off its hook and washed it in the sink; wringed out the water and held it out. "Do you want to clean the blood off or shall I do it for you?"
Smudge just looked mutely at the cloth, so Sasan did the honours, gently wiping blood off fingers that unclenched themselves for him; rinsing the red off and trying not to think about how the blood was probably identical to his.
"It felt like it was me," Smudge finally managed with effort after several moments of silence. "When I was killing him." He swallowed, eyes still downcast, temporarily robbed of their usual energy. "And I liked it."
Sasan lifted up the cloth to Smudge's face and sponged away the tears and drying blood. Smudge blinked, flinching slightly at the damp cloth
"I think I hate myself," he said, almost in a whisper.
Sasan lowered the cloth. "Why would you think that?" he asked.
Smudge didn't look at him, gazing unseeingly down at his fingers.
"Come here," Sasan said quietly, putting the cloth down.
He pulled Smudge into a hug.
Smudge held on tightly; trembling with unknown sorrows, burying his face in Sasan's neck, and feeling, for the first time in a long while, that he was loved.
#
"He's still alive," Spock announced, releasing his grip from measuring Sylar's pulse.
"...How?" Leo asked.
Adam went over to the coffee table, opened up his now-beloved laptop and scanned through his saved pages.
"He has regenerative powers," he said.
"Why?" Leo asked, who was beginning to suspect that the multiverse hated them.
"How do we kill him?" Spock asked.
Adam shook his head, still scrolling through the pages at a speed that probably wouldn't have let him take in much information even if the answers had been there. "I don't know."
"We could just keep him unconscious until we work something out," Leo said.
Spock crouched down by the body, fingering the torn shirt at the rips where the knife went in, tugging them aside-
"He's healing," he said, seeing the wounds slowly closing over themselves.
"Do we stab him again?" Leo asked uncertainly, deciding that the multiverse definitely hated them.
"Whatever it takes to keep him down," Adam said, getting up. "I'll go look for help. Peter or someone might know what to do."
He sprinted out the door.
Spock administered a second nerve pinch in case the effects of the first one were wearing out. He wondered what Smudge and Sasan were doing in the bathroom, and decided it was illogical to speculate.
#
The main crowds were starting to enter the cafeteria. Adam weaved his way through the throngs of people, looking around hopefully for one of those people who kept wanting to kill him. He thought about climbing up on a table and shouting. Then he stopped thinking about that, and wondered why he had even thought of it in the first place.
Finally, he spotted Peter sitting alone at a small table, and ran up to him.
"Sylar's here," he said, out of breath.
Peter looked up.
"Please," Adam continued. "We need your help. We don't know how to kill him-"
"How do I know I can trust you?" Peter asked warily.
"Are you ins-" Adam let out a breath. "He killed two of us. Okay? And I think that suggests that he doesn't like us very much."
"What's he doing now? Sitting around having tea?" asked Peter, who was terrible at sarcasm.
"He's unconscious," Adam said. He glared at Peter. "Are you going to help us or not?"
Silence.
"It's not just our lives we're-"
"Stab him in the back of his head," Peter finally said. "Near the base of his skull. Get something sharp. Drive it in. Leave it there or he'll just heal..."
Adam nodded. "That's it?"
"Yeah. I'm sorry; I'm not going up there. It might be a trap."
"And then what?" Adam asked. "Sylar might be dead but you'll still keep hounding us because you wouldn't know?"
Peter hesitated.
"Nothing's going to happen to you, all right?" Adam insisted. "It's not a trap. Spock nerve-pinched Sylar and he's completely out of it."
Peter blinked. "Spock?"
"Yeah, from Star Trek. Guess what. He's one of us."
"I thought Leonard Nimoy-"
"Apparently they made a new movie. What, you don't trust him either? After all those years serving faithfully by Kirk's side?"
"How do I know you're telling the truth?"
"Could I make up something like that?"
Peter thought about this. Finally, he stood up. "Fine," he said. I'll go up with you and kill Sylar, make sure he's dead. Any funny business and you're dead."
"Thank you," Adam said, and led the way.
Peter didn't say a word until they arrived on the seventeenth floor of Block J. He was hit by a strange sense of guilt as he saw the two murdered people littering the corridor, but kept it to himself, and noticed the way Leo stepped back instinctively as he entered the common room; and he wondered if he should say something about that, but there were more pressing matters at hand:
"Spock," Peter said, mouth hanging open.
"Why do so many people constantly feel the need to ascertain my identity?"
Peter continued gaping. Some part of him realised that Sylar was unconscious on the ground, but he had decided that staring stupidly at Spock was more important than avenging a killer he'd sworn to kill.
Smudge and Sasan came out of the bathroom, Smudge noticeably more subdued than usual, and covered with much less blood than he had been upon entry.
"Why are you back?" Sasan asked Peter.
Peter shook himself out of his Trekkie reverie, pushed aside happy fantasies of being abducted by Spock and whisked off to go on space adventures on the USS Enterprise, crouched down by Sylar, and picked up the knife.
"I came here to kill him, so I'll do it and get out of here."
"I killed him," Smudge stated. "I stabbed him about five times."
"He's not dead," Leo informed him. "He heals."
Smudge's face fell. Sasan patted him on the shoulder and went to get a drink of water.
Peter nudged Sylar over to expose the back of his head. "I've waited so long to do this," he said. He raised the knife and drove it in, and Sylar's pulse flatlined.
Peter released the knife and stood up, satisfied. Everyone was looking at him. It made him uneasy. Then he realised that Spock was among the people staring at him, and this made him feel much better and start thinking once again about being whisked off for adventures on the USS Enterprise.
"...Just leave the knife there," he said. "Don't pull it out or he'll recover."
"Okay," Leo said.
"Thanks," Adam said perfunctorily.
"Anything else you need me to do?" Peter asked.
"Where do we put him?" Smudge asked.
"Anywhere you want," Peter said.
"What; you're not afraid that we might take the knife out and join him in killing people?" Adam asked.
Silence. Peter looked at him. "...No," he said. "I trust you."
He left.
#
They carried Sylar's body into one of the two rooms nearest the stairwell, and after brief discussion brought his two victims to join him. Spock said that while respecting the dead had its merits, it was also illogical to waste a whole other room just for them; especially since corpses eventually start stinking and it was best not to contaminate more than one room in case they needed the beds.
The prospect of the stinking unsettled some of them, and Leo wondered aloud about some other place where they could dump the bodies. Sasan mentioned hearing about a group of people who had hacked their way through the first floor of Block F (to find nothing below but a huge, dark void that seemed to go on forever), and if the hole was big enough perhaps they could push them through. Smudge expressed concern over where they might end up. Adam pointed out that, given their current reputation, it probably wouldn't be a good idea to be seen lugging dead bodies through Kenselton Hotel.
So the dead people stayed in the room for the moment, and they stuffed the crack at the bottom of the door with wet rags they found in one of the boxes on the shelves to keep any smell in. Leo got a sheet of paper and wrote 'DO NOT OPEN. DEAD PEOPLE + SERIAL KILLER.' on it to paste on the door, in case any newbies arrived when the rest of them were not around.
With other rags they cleaned up the place as best they could: wiping the blood off the walls and off as much of the carpet as they could manage. They were, effectively, just making their prison nicer; but with nowhere else to go, they figured that it would be better to be stuck in a place that wasn't splattered with blood.
The work helped them keep their hands busy and gave them less opportunity to angst about their situation, and along the way it started to sink in that Sylar was dead and that threat was gone and they need not spend time worrying about who he might be or what he might do. They were safe now; at least as safe as they could be in this place, and anyone who threatened them from now on could be told the good news and shown the body if they asked and didn't mind the potential stench.
And that sense of freedom loosed their fears and loosed their spirits.
Sasan found a bottle of air-freshener and sprayed it around. It made the place smell like roses. Adam told him to put it away because it was so gay, whereupon Smudge retaliated on Sasan's behalf by splashing Adam with water that wasn't completely clean. Adam grabbed the small bucket, chased him around the sofa and tackled him to the ground, threatening to upend the whole thing over his head. Spock let him know that this would not be wise because then there would be dirty water all over the carpet. Adam relented and let him go, wiping the water off his face with the back of his hand and flinging it in Smudge's general direction. "I saw that," Sasan said. Leo pretended to be greatly interested in a snow globe.
But any hostility could not last for long amidst the absence of Sylar and the smell of roses. Upon realising that they still didn't feel completely safe about going out there, they decided to wait until Peter had time to spread the message of Sylar's death, and only venture out around dinner time to see if things had changed.
Leo found a nice book and retired amongst the shelves to read. Sasan took over the laptop after minimal possessive remarks from Adam, made a brief comment about how he was more of a Mac guy, and proceeded to spend the better part of the next few hours creating artistic masterpieces in Paint ("It's a fig newton," he explained when Smudge asked). Adam popped in the first disc of Heroes season 1 to continue from where they'd originally left off in episode 2.
Spock stood silently by the door of the common room, gazing out into the corridor, homesick. He wondered why he felt an outsider even amongst this company. A part of him wanted to leave; go out there, try and locate the rest of the Enterprise crew, see if they had any escape plans... but he knew it would be futile, and that, in a way, the people on this floor needed him.
Chapter 10 »
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