Disclaimer : This is a fictional story and doesn't imply anything about the characters or actors of the series, Heroes.
Chapter 2
Ryan sat on his bed and was deep in thought. His legs were crossed but he held them tightly as he sat in the form of a ball. It was a comfortable position, and sometimes it felt like his own arms were the only form of support he'd ever receive. The lights had turned on about an hour ago, but the night hadn't been easy. He'd tried to sleep but thoughts of his conversation with Noah Bennett, and his brief encounter with Peter Petrelli buzzed though his mind like a swarm of bees. The thought seemed to create a deafening noise, and relaxation seemed to be impossible for the moment. Everything seemed to be an odd mixture of thoughts, but as soon as he tried to concentrate on either Noah or Peter, his thoughts would drift back to the other one. Noah had said some cutting and truthful things, things that had left him shaken on the inside, but hopefully unaffected on the outside. There was something he liked and trusted about the murderous Noah. He didn't hide who he was or what his purpose was in life. He was genuinely honest and unashamed about his position in life, and Ryan found that appealing. Under other circumstances, they might have made good colleagues - though Noah was considerably older and the generation gap would take its toll. Yet Peter... he seemed to be like a glimpse of everything he needed in his life flashing past the window in a short glimpse and then disappearing forever.
Was he being stupid? He'd never met the guy but he felt and intense and almost disabling attraction to him. His whole body ached at the thought of being close to Peter, and his heart crashed against his ribs. It was lust in its purest form, but there was something else. He hadn't looked Peter in the eyes, but from what he could see, he had the most open, and sincere face he'd ever seen. He needed that in his life... sincerity, empathy, and kindness. The world seemed barren from that aspect, or perhaps he perceived it as such. It didn't really matter what the cause was - the truth was he was bitterly unhappy and lonely.
He heard footsteps and the unmistakable sound of high-heeled shoes moving his way. It could only mean that Mrs Petrelli was on the way. Moments later she stepped into his view. As usual she was dressed in her chic yet unflattering black dress, with her hair tied up, and an impassive look on her face. She was a hard woman, yet he felt a close affinity to her, almost as if she was the mother that he needed but never had. A tearing pain ripped through his heart at the thought of his mother, but he pushed it from his mind before it could develop. He had to control that area of his mind, and forget about it permanently.
"Morning Ryan," she said.
"Hi Mrs Petrelli," he said, standing to greet her.
"How was your sleep?" she said. It was typical small talk she initiated prior to getting to the real reason why she walked so far down this long passage to see him. She cared about his sleep as much as she cared about the color of his boxers.
"Good thanks," he lied. "I'd like to go for a walk around the complex today." There was no point in delaying the topic.
"Oh?" she said, with an arched eyebrow. "May I ask why?"
"Well, I've been in this cell for a while now, and while I appreciate the hospitality I've received here, I'm getting bored. I thought I could perhaps walk around and chat to a few people, and just you know, be normal for a while."
She stared at him with her dark eyes until the moment almost became awkward. He felt like smiling to himself. Her answer was obviously 'no' but at the same time she knew that she couldn't hold him against his will, even if she had promised not too. Once she'd discovered the limits of his abilities, she'd no doubt decided to keep him here as a permanent inmate. The problem she had was implementing such a plan, though she had tried. Ryan didn't consider himself to be an aggressive man, but he couldn't just sit here while she tried every experiment on him. Sometimes it was necessary to tell the spider that you were no ordinary fly.
She turned to her right, and he thought for a moment that she was going to leave and consider the issue closed. That would have made him incredibly angry, and rudeness was one thing he couldn't abide. He heard shuffling outside his door and the sound of electronic buttons being pushed, and she entered the room.
"I'm sure that won't be a problem," she said, and he sighed with relief. It would have been less than desirable if he'd had to force his way out of the room after she'd allowed him to stay here. Then again, it was unlikely she'd merely decided to allow him to walk through the compound freely. She was probably designing some elaborate plan to win over his loyalty. He wasn't interested in any of that, though. He was thankful to the Company for helping him during a time of need, but no more than any gas station helped you when you needed to fill your car. It was ludicrous to think that you owed them an ongoing debt.
"That's good news," he replied amicably. "I'll just get changed into something less gray, and go look around."
"I wouldn't recommend staying on this level, Ryan. These men are less than friendly to those who are looking for light conversation."
He smiled to her, and her lips curved upwards slightly against her will. Perhaps she was not too bad. "I'll stay clear of level 5," he replied.
"And don't try do anything you wouldn't do outside this place... like go into closed vaults, or play with computers that have passwords. I think we understand each other from this point of view."
"Don't worry, I'm not interested in hacking the Company. You guys have been good to me." Her eyes didn't soften despite the compliment. It was the truth though. His goal was to see if he could accidentally walk into Peter, not read about the atrocities or experiments done in this place over the past thirty years. Wrongdoers were always paranoid that people were after their secrets.
After brief nod, Angela turned on her heel and left. He waited until the sound of her shoes had almost vanished before he decided to get changed. These cells afforded little privacy. Within a few minutes he was walking along the dimly lit passage dressed in his trusted jeans and sneakers, with a dark blue collared shirt. The official garb was more comfortable, but it also felt as if he was wearing his pajamas, and he couldn't walk around like that (especially if he was planning on meeting Peter).
Angela was right - the populace of the fifth level seemed less than friendly to anyone who wasn't caught up like they were. He couldn't deny that many of them intimidated him with their blank hateful stares, and after a while he averted his gaze instead of making eye contact.
"Have you seen Meredith?" he heard a creepy voice whisper to his left, but he quickened his pace and exited the level.
It was a relief to find himself in a more normal environment. The mansion had neat passages lined with features and other niceties, but every now and again there was a lab or room with a seemingly unconscious person linked to monitors or intravenous lines. He was under no illusion that this place was benign, but he wasn't exactly interested in delving too deeply either.
"You!" he heard behind him, and he turned slowly. He expected that one of the guards thought he had escaped and he wasn't in the mood for a tazer in his back.
He saw an Indian man dressed with a white coat standing a few feet from him. He was extremely good looking, but seemed agitated.
"Uh... yeah?" he replied.
"We could use your help in here," the man said before rushing back into the room.
He didn't even bother to wait for Ryan's answer. It had been a command more than a request, which was more than irritating. He found himself following just out of curiosity. His eyes widened as he saw a girl convulsing on a table, while three men held her down, and the scientist joined them.
"Help hold her down so that I can sedate her," the scientist said.
He found himself staring in shock for the second time. One of the men restraining the girl was Peter, and he looked so good it was breathtaking. He was wearing a black leather jacket and jeans, and he showed strain on his face as he tried to restrain the wildly thrashing teenager. Peter suddenly looked up, and Ryan felt his heart jump.
"Are you going to fucking help us or not?" he shouted, and Ryan moved forward to help despite the mortally painful comment. He hadn't expected Peter's first words to him to be so coarse. They held down the girl, but she was incredibly powerful for such a small girl. He found he needed to put all his strength into restraining her one arm alone. Suddenly her body became limp and he released her arm, his grip almost painful it had been so tight. He discovered then that the scientist was standing beside her and had injected something into her neck.
"Thanks Mohinder," Peter said. He looked at Ryan, and Ryan felt his heart surge again for a potential backtrack and apology. Peter merely shook his head angrily and walked out.
"What?" Ryan said, starting to get irritated himself.
He looked at the girl who appeared to be sleeping. She was no more than sixteen years old, with long dark hair. She seemed to be in a deep sleep.
"So who are you?" he heard the scientist mutter to him while jotting down notes on a clipboard.
"Ryan. You're Mohinder," he replied.
"You may call me Dr Suresh," he answered arrogantly, not even looking up at Ryan.
"I'd rather not speak to you again if this is how you treat people," Ryan said simply.
The comment caused the handsome, but idiotic man to look up from his clipboard. Clearly he was not accustomed to being challenged, especially in his little scientific domain.
"May I remind you that patients are required to call their physicians by their full names and titles. Those are the rules, and I'm sure you know what happens to people who don't obey," Mohinder said with irritation.
"I'm no patient," Ryan said pointedly. "And why is everyone so fucking rude in this place?"
"Who are you then?" Mohinder said with a mixture of curiosity and alarm, but still without manners.
"I'm a guest here, professor doctor Suresh, or whoever you are," Ryan said. His temper had never been his strong point, and rudeness and aggression were the quickest trigger points to force his hand.
"I've never heard of a guest in this place. Either you're a patient or a Company man," Mohinder said.
"I'm neither. You can ask Angela Petrelli if you doubt me," Ryan said.
"I'll do that," Mohinder said while pulling out his cell phone. He noticed a fine tremor in Mohinder's hands, and suddenly he realized that Mohinder was afraid, not angry. He probably considered him to be an escaped 'patient'. Ryan didn't feel like obliging any sort of interrogation, and this room was hostile enough that he had no reason to stay. Walking towards the door, he turned the knob.
"Don't move!" he heard Mohinder shout, and he turned to find him armed with a tazer and more than ready to use it.
Ryan just shook his head, and started to leave. He heard Mohinder's finger pressing frantically on the activation button of the tazer, but he felt nothing catch him in the back.
"It won't work, asshole," Ryan said. It had taken an instant to pull some of the heat in the floor into himself and place it inside the tazer, thereby melting all the internal components. There were so many things he could have done, but this had been the safest and quickest. He hated using his powers for such a base use, but getting shocked was not in his plan for the day. And what the fuck was wrong with this place? Everyone was on edge and ready to call in the army at the slightest misplaced glance.
"Wait!" he heard Mohinder call behind him.
"Leave me alone," he said, and continued looking into the various rooms, thus continuing his tour of the facility. Truth be told, he was rather irritated and found that his day had been marred by the hostile reception he'd received everywhere.
"You're one of them, aren't you?" Mohinder said, finally catching up to him and panting. Ryan fell to a moment of weakness and considered how incredibly flawless Mohinder's face was, and how hot he was. Moments later, his defenses were up again.
"One of those people who doesn't recycle all his garbage? Sorry, but I'm pretty good about that sort of stuff," he said insolently. Actually he was part of at least two minorities, but he wanted to make it difficult for Mohinder if he could.
"You know what I mean," Mohinder said after taking offence. He was even better looking when he was angry. "You have a special ability. What did you do to my weapon? What ability do you have?"
"Which question must I answer first?" Ryan said, and Mohinder's silent stare spoke of deliberately contained aggression. "I have abilities," he said finally. "But I'm not telling you anything. You've been less than hospitable today."
"I can pull up your file like this," Mohinder said, with a click of his fingers.
"Good luck with that," Ryan said, and walked off. He really hoped that Mohinder wouldn't follow him, and for a wonder, he didn't.
The rest of the tour around the facility seemed drab and uninteresting. Ryan was preoccupied with his first encounter with Peter, and how badly he'd been spoken to. He'd been desperate to meet the Petrelli son, but he was wondering if Peter was nothing more than a huge asshole behind a spectacular face. It was not much of a surprise ... hot guys were often assholes as soon as they opened their mouths, clinging to the only quality they had, the one they were born with and didn't earn. It was a bit of a condemnation on himself though. He was very good looking himself, but wouldn't admit it out loud. Girls had always wanted more than friendship from him, though he'd never been able to give it. Guys who liked him also told him how intensely good looking he was. It didn't matter. It was a nice asset to have, but Peter proved that if you couldn't open your mouth wisely then good looks meant nothing. Still, perhaps he was being too harsh on the guy. Peter might have been having a really bad day, or he'd lost his temper at something else and was looking for an outlet. However much he considered it, he couldn't shake the truth that Peter had hurt his feelings. It was the most ridiculous, and childish thing to admit, but in the end he knew that a single word from the guy could flay him like a whip or hug him like a warm blanket. Sadly, it had been the former.
A sudden scream rang through the facility - a cry of the most deadly and visceral pain. Ryan turned to run towards the source, but the tenacious Mohinder appeared from nowhere running towards him.
"Run!" he said.
Ryan frowned and opened his mouth in shock. Mohinder ran right past him as fast he could, and moment later he saw a woman crash through a window and land in the passage, covered in blood.
"Holy shit," Ryan whispered to himself, and was running in Mohinder's direction as fast as he could. What was going on in this place?
He heard gunshots followed by screams of agony as he ran along the passage and down flights of stairs. It seemed like he couldn't escape the murder that was occurring all around him. Minutes later, he found himself in a dark, subterranean garage filled with luxury sedans. Running to the nearest one, he opened the unlocked door of the black BMW and found the keys in the ignition.
"That's more than lucky," he said. He needed to get out of this place. The engine roared to a start and he spotted the dimly lit exit in the distance. Sliding the gear into place, he was about to flee out of the Company building at high speed, when suddenly the passenger door opened.
"Holy crap!" Ryan cried out. A man in a black leather jacket climbed in. Convinced that he was about to die, Ryan tried to leap out of the car and run. The idea that he might use his powers to defend himself never dawned upon him, most likely because he hadn't learned to incorporate them into his reflex actions. He kicked the door open instead, and tried to climb out but found to his horror that he was caught in his seat belt. He had only the smallest fraction of time to realize that the flung open door had started to rebound, and with a nauseating crack, he felt the door crash into his head. Intense pain filled his head as he gasped in agony, and stars filled his visions. Waves replaced stars and he felt darkness start to cloud his senses. Aware of his incapacitation, he realized in his last moments that the man in the car with him was reaching over. Luckily he'd be unconscious when he died. With a small smile on his lips, he felt his mind blacken and consciousness slip away.
A humming sound filled Ryan's ears. He let it continue for a few minutes before lending it any credibility. He realized that he was slowly regaining consciousness. He lent some time to the theory that he might be dead, but felt the throbbing headache return with ever-increasing intensity. He tried to open his eyes, but it felt like he was looking into the sun. The white light was painful, and his eyelids closed convulsively. Rolling onto his back, he realized that he was in a vehicle, and that if he wasn't driving, then someone was. Terror heightened his senses, and he shot up and opened his eyes. He was definitely in the same car, but this time in the passenger seat. Looking to his right, he saw that Peter was driving.
"You," he said to Peter. He couldn't believe his eyes.
"So you're awake," Peter said.
"How long have I been out?" he replied, rubbing his head. It was extremely painful.
"Two hours," Peter said curtly, while staring at the open road ahead.
"It was you!" Ryan said, a small fire starting to light in his chest. "You were the one who climbed into the car. You scared me half to death!"
"It's not my fault you frighten like a girl," Peter said nastily. "Or get tangled up in your seatbelt and knock yourself out with your own door." Peter laughed, but it seemed malicious more than friendly.
"There were dozens of cars there. Why didn't you take those?" Ryan said.
"Because this is my car," Peter replied angrily.
"Sorry," Peter replied. The factual nature of the reply cut his knees out from beneath him. There was no real defense he could offer.
"I don't want your apologies. Just sit there and be quiet until we're far enough from Sylar." Ryan found himself disliking Peter more and more every time he opened his mouth. He thought about telling Peter to stop the car so that he could walk home (wherever that was), but the curiosity he shared over the Sylar character was too great to pass.
"Who is Sylar?" he asked.
Peter laughed once to himself. "A really bad guy. Let's put it this way. If you saw him you'd probably knock your head right off with my car's door."
"Wow, you really are a huge asshole, aren't you, Peter?" Ryan said. The headache and the constant rude commentary from the other side of the car were starting to get the better of his self-control.
"You can walk if you want to," Peter said, as the smile slipped off his face in an instant.
"I will walk. Stop the car," Ryan said, undoing his seatbelt.
Peter stared straight ahead, and the car didn't decelerate. Ryan decided not to push the issue. He was more interested in why the fool didn't take the opportunity to eject him from the car at the first opportunity. Ryan looked at Peter. He was undeniably the best looking guy he'd ever seen. He would have pounced a guy who looked a tenth as good as Peter did, but to be honest, he'd never found a guy as unattractive as Peter. The guy seemed to look for any reason to spew his venom in his direction. Peter seemed so angry and unhappy. Ryan thought he had problems when he'd come to the Company, but Peter was the very definition of a tormented soul.
"Like what you see?" Peter said, still looking forward.
Ryan stared forward without replying, but the smug look on his face remained there. He'd been privy to a close up view of this amazingly good-looking man, and no one could do anything to take that away. A small victory, but still a victory.
"Oh god," Peter said, looking towards him. "You're gay. I'm fucking stuck with a gay guy in my car. Of all the fucking bad jokes in the world. Fuck!"
Ryan's eyes widened in shock. Could he seriously be stuck with the world's hottest but most unfriendly bigot?
"You fuckhead," Ryan replied. His anger was instantly white hot. He felt like he was going to explode. "I am gay, you bigoted piece of shit," he shouted. A tree to the far side of the road exploded and landed a hundred feet away, a mass of splinters.
"Woah," Peter said, trying to get the car back on track as the shockwave hit them. Several other cars had spun to a halt. Peter looked to him, with that devious smile on his face. Ryan evaded his gaze, mainly because he was so angry with him, and partly because a good smile and a meager apology would melt his resistance in moments.
"You can blow up things," Peter said.
"Can I?" Ryan said sarcastically. He was looking out his window, not interested in engaging in friendly conversation at all.
"I guess I can too now," Peter said arrogantly.
"Good for you. Please leave me alone, Peter," Ryan said.
The car continued in silence. Ryan felt despair. Yes, he was gay. It was tough to live with it, and even harder to find a nice guy who understood you. Ryan had a feeling Peter was that guy, but his delusion had been the mother of all idiotic guesses. Peter was rude and a bigot. He really did want to get out of the car, but he needed transport to the next major city, and he liked being near Peter. The last thought made him furious with himself. He felt like punching the window at that last thought. He felt happy being close to Peter. It was like an obsession with a deadly drug that harmed you. The sooner he was away from Peter the better.
He felt like he was being watched, but he didn't dare turn around.
"Put your seatbelt on, I wouldn't want you to get hurt if we had an accident," Peter said.
Ryan waited a long moment before obeying. He spent the rest of the journey turned away from Peter, unable to look at him, afraid of what he might do. He was in hell. This car was hell.
End of chapter 2
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