If curiosity kills the cat, what happens to the mouse?

[doctor_mccoy]

WHO: Sylar, McCoy
WHEN: March 17, noon
WHERE: The underground Mall, Cafe
WHAT: Sylar wants something McCoy doesn't even know he has. McCoy needs to learn to practice what he preaches.
WARNINGS:  Language and snark.  Now, with violence!


[He's still in his the top to his scrubs, jeans at least because he needs the pockets, but he borrowed them from Jim and the kid's ass is too damn skinny so they're far from comfortable. Not that McCoy can even remember what comfort feels like with the way his stomach pitches in protest with a feeling of unease, too akin to what he knows when he's forced upon a cramp shuttle and all the horrors of dying in cold space and wreckage press on his mind. 

There wasn't any time to make it back to his apartment after his shift so he found his way to the cafe instead, tucking himself away in the back away from a pair of chatty teenagers and the too eager to please server who keeps insisting that their cappuccino is to die for, he just scowls and tries to think of anything but dying as he sips black coffee and tries to focus on the crossword puzzle on the back of the daily paper.

It's 12:01 and he thinks all he has to do is hold out for twenty minutes, a polite twenty because certainly he's not interesting enough to actually keep the attention of some busy-little-bee of a psychopath and Sylar had only suggested the meeting so McCoy would squirm all week.]

Comments

[gabriel_gray]

It isn't supposed to make sense. And nobody believes in fairies.

[ It had been such a long time since he did that to upset the girls at school, he'd almost forgotten about it. Now it was just an aside, and he shrugged a shoulder. Even after he'd met a fairy he still didn't believe in them. What a life he was living. ]

You're trying too hard. It's supposed to be as natural as breathing.

[doctor_mccoy]

Oh this place can be completely insane, but we don't have to worry about faeries, that's a relief. [He drawls sarcastically, settling his breathing now that he's reminded that it's supposed to be a natural thing... right.]

So what if you're wrong about what I can do?

[He changes tactics, reaching over to grab for a cloth napkin, wrapping her hand with it, he's sure as hell not going to just waste his time while the poor woman just sits there bleeding.]

[gabriel_gray]

If I'm wrong, it's not about what you can do but whether or not you can actually do it. And if you can't...

[ He watched the other man wrap the hand, and opened his own widely, flicking it back off sharply. ]

No. If you can't do it, Dr. McCoy, then perhaps I should take your power and do it for you? A little blood isn't going to kill her, but I might if you don't find a way to focus.

[ His backup plan was to send her to the kitchen to 'accidentally' injure herself in there. ]

[doctor_mccoy]

So I'm reminded.

[Okay sink or swim, he should be good at this, after all his profession requires him to work under pressure, think on his feet. He takes her hand again, thinking further on what he should be worrying about besides if their waitress will get to keep the full range of motion in her hand if it's treated properly. He doesn't particularly want to die to day just because some bigger kid on the playground saw what toy he had and wanted it too.

damn bastard breathin' down my-- [Under his breath as he closes his eyes, hunching his shoulders. It takes a minute, and even then he's less aware of anything actually happening besides an annoying throb behind his eyes. It works... kind of, or rather the bleeding stops and her skin is suddenly very warm under his palms, or maybe it's his, but there's heat. Except when he moves his hand there's still the dark edges of a wound under the sticky mess of blood.]

[gabriel_gray]

[ Sylar leans a little closer, watching McCoy's hands with interest, glancing up to mark his focus, then looking back down. He can almost see it, like an innate sense, and tilts his head in curiosity as McCoy withdraws his hands again. The wound is still there, but he can see that beneath the obvious, some degree of healing has begun. Enough that she's not going to lose the function of her hand, at least.

He makes a little shooing motion at the waitress and she trots away back into the cafe, while Sylar turns back to face the doctor, picking up his cappuccino. ]

I think she deserves a healthy tip for her help, don't you?

[doctor_mccoy]

What'd you do, scramble her brain? That's not a paper cut, how do you figure she's going to explain that away?

[He's a bit shaken that something had actually happened as near as he could tell, it was like waking up the next day and learning you could speak a language you've never heard of. He doesn't like that there's some strange power manifesting inside of him, he wasn't some damn fantasy novel shaman.]

[gabriel_gray]

I suggested she make fruit salad with a sharp knife. When she snaps out of it she'll notice the wound, and get it properly seen to. I'm not a monster--well, I guess I am.

[ His eyes flickered up. ]

You have a very special power, Dr. McCoy. Healing is a precious ability. Learn to manipulate it, and hospitals will clamour to hire you.

[doctor_mccoy]

[He just raises his brows at that explanation, but he doesn't argue, just sets his empty cup up right and drops the bloody napkin on top of the spill]

I'll move up because I'm a damn good doctor, I don't need to flaunt around some healing voodoo just to get a decent job. [He points at him, giving him a sharp look.] That doesn't mean i'm just going to hand it over to you either...if I do learn it, I'll make some use of it, if only because I'm already hindered by this 21st century medicine.

[gabriel_gray]

Please. You're competing against people like me. People who've lived with their powers for a long time. People who can manipulate their way to the top job, or heal like you can. And more importantly, you'll be working on people who are complicated. Whose powers may well effect how you work. Magnetic people who break your precious imagining machines, people whose limbs spontaneously lose all their bones, people whose natural resistance to drugs means there's no way to soothe their pain.

[ He leant back. ]

Besides which, I don't want the power for myself. I have something else in mind.

[doctor_mccoy]

[His expression is grim and he thinks perhaps he'd prefer whiskey to coffee right about now, except he hasn't slept yet and knew Jim was probably sitting at the door waiting for him.]

Should I even ask?

[gabriel_gray]

[ He drums his fingers on the table thoughtfully, glancing up at McCoy. He's not quite done here, because leaving McCoy without any kind of memento seems like a waste of his time--even if he has found out something useful in the meantime. He needs to leave him with a reminder, that's all. That he could have taken the power any time he liked but didn't. ]

Do you know what an empath is?

[doctor_mccoy]

[He would have left himself if he thought he could have gotten away with it. He's a bit smarter than that, knowing damn well Sylar wasn't just going to let him tip his hat and stroll off with out excusing him. Instead he drops his chin into his hand.]

An individual who, often through the means of clairempathy, can attune themselves with another sentient being, either through close proximity or touch [He drones a bit as if he's reading a textbook.] They can often experience what another person is feeling, and in some cases, thinking on a base level, not unlike telepathy. [A beat] Psychic crap.

[gabriel_gray]

Not when it comes to powers. My own is a little like empathy, at its basic level. I can't literally see something inside a brain when I open it up--not anything I could point out to anyone else unless they had the same ability. Strictly speaking, then, my power is called intuitive aptitude.

Now there are other kinds of empaths. Emotional empaths, the kind of people who do what you propose. Attuning themselves, feeling their pain and joy. Even empaths who can project those feelings onto other people.

[ He tapped the table. ]

And there are empathic mimics. It's a wonderful power, that one. Taking a power by mimicry, like a chameleon, shifting through powers as easily as breathing. I happen to know someone like that.

[doctor_mccoy]

[He can only guess that Jim was type two of the empath list there, at least from what the other had told him. The last type perks his interest a little, not that it shows past the scowl but he looks up again.]

And why don't you take that particular ability? Seems like it would make your job a bit easier... unless of course you like sticking your fingers in other people's brains.

[gabriel_gray]

You're a doctor, so you wouldn't understand how it feels. Getting up to your elbows in blood is a bad day for you, but for me, there's nothing else quite like it. It's euphoric.

[ He finishes his cappuccino, setting it back down, and raises his still bloody hand to push it back through his hair. ]

My empathic friend is like you, but in all the time he's had his ability, he's never met a healer. He wants to help people, but he doesn't know how. He only sees pain in his abilities. That was him the other day--the nuclear man?

[doctor_mccoy]

...I can guess that would be a bad day for anybody.

[He watches the drag of bloody fingers and the dark swipe of color it left behind and almost wants to say something but just settles for sinking back into his chair.]

Say I even believe you'd use the word friend and mean it, what do you expect me to do, shake the guy's hand so he can go play Jesus to your Satan? How's he going to feel if he does get the ability to heal, to help people, and finds out that there's still gonna be people he can't save? It's a kick in teeth, and once you have that responsibility, you're damn well stuck with it.

[gabriel_gray]

[ Being covered in blood? It's anothr day for Sylar. Do you ever get anything icky on that uniform of yours, McCoy? ]

Of course there's going to be people you can't save, but I think he can also travel through time--which does change things a little. Once he has your ability, there's no reason why it should matter.

In any case, that's up to you. Talk to him. See if you think he deserves it. His name is Peter Petrelli.

[doctor_mccoy]

[All the time, even in the future it's not easy getting blood stains out.]

I'll keep the name in mind. [It's familiar enough in passing, even if he doesn't often participate, he monitors the feed from time to time, absorbing what he can with out prying too deeply. It's already a strike against the man if Sylar is vouching for him... but at the same time it's a curious thing if he really is such a 'good person' He'd like to see for himself if 'friend' didn't mean the same as 'puppet'. Even if McCoy is willing to play nice with the big bad wolf, he's sure as hell not going to willingly play into his hand.]

I take it you're buying? you're the one that invited me here after all. It's only polite.

[gabriel_gray]

[ Well Peter makes it clear they're enemies in public, so maybe he'll grow on him. In any case, it's a start. And if McCoy asks him to take the voodoo off him, then it'll be a flat exchange. Peter's depressed, and it's infuriating, but neither Sylar, nor Peter, nor Claire need to be healed any longer. Useful power, regeneration.

But that means putting the voodoo on him in the first place. He leans forward. ]

It's not a problem. Close your eyes for a moment.

[ He was just winding him up now. He was already reaching into McCoy's mind, whether he obeyed or not, making the necessary adjustments. Sleepwalking. It felt like a good memento. ]

[doctor_mccoy]

[He doesn't close his eyes, just gave him a strange look, not trusting him... of course not realizing he was going to go poke around in his mind as-you-please either. It's not like it tickled.]

And do what? Click my heels three time and say "there's no place like home?"

[gabriel_gray]

[ And he's done. But he raises one eyebrow regardless. Back to being eerily Spock like. ]

Try it and see what happens.

[doctor_mccoy]

[Spock is a little bit better at the poker face, but keep trying.]

I'll take my chances.

[He tries his luck anyway, moving warily to stand before he manages to drawl out dryly: Thanks for the coffee, you'll have to forgive me if I don't kiss on the first date, I'm just not that sort of guy.

[gabriel_gray]

[ A laugh. ]

Coffee with a serial killer, and he still has his sense of humour. I could come to like you.

thanks for the hot date, baby.

[doctor_mccoy]

[Oh trust him, all that dry wit is the only thing that keeps him together. He waves him off.]

Yeah well, any killer you can walk away from.

[That's about all the good bye he's going to get as McCoy heads off, ignoring the crowds in the mall, a little numb and it's only when he's almost to the exit of the underground facility that he feels like he can breathe properly again. That wasn't awful no, but he sure as hell doesn't feel like company after that. He'll leave a message with Jim later telling him he won't be by for dinner after all. Instead he has sleep to catch up on and a bottle of bourbon to acquaint himself with.]