ways_back_room | And with a Crash-

And with a Crash-

Fading out is an echo of two voices...

"He's an angsty, emo, heartless sorcerer swordsman."

"He totally needs to get laid, then."

There's never a good closet around when you need one- at least, ever since someone came up with Rule #3. So what if Laini and Zelgadiss missed the stairs and whatever else door they were aiming for- They're at least out of the bar right now, and Laini is doing her best to get him out of his clothes.

(As for hers- Shapeshifter. That will only take a moment, unless he wants to help as well!)

They crash the door into the back room and onto a convenient couch. Zel winces a bit as the back of his head hits the armrest (because Laini is totally doing the pouncing) and, noticing their surroundings, says eloquently, "Um. Where are we?"

Laini blinks, maybe finally distracted. Somewhat. "Good question- though someone did leave a drink here."

Zelgadiss eyes said drink. It's blue. Very blue. "Yeah, but what sort is it?"

BACKROOM INVASION! Tag freely! Threadhop! Make crack! It's not canon and it doesn't really happen! Allons-y!

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Oh fuck.

Oh holy Jesus fuck.

All of the color's drained out of Phoenix's face; she swallows, hard. "Nothing?" she ventures.

And seriously, you do not need to have any kind of sixth sense to know she's lying. Phoenix is a suck-ass liar.

She looks extremely nervous, and in response, the rough gravel of his voice gentles a bit.

"It's okay," Frank tells her. "It's okay."

A beat.

"If you're in some kind of danger--"

"No!"

She's waving her hands frantically.

"No, seriously, it's not like that. It isn't." Deep breath. "Not really. I'm okay. Don't worry."

(Phoenix, at this point, is trying very, very hard to think about anything that isn't Sylar. Even if Frank's gift doesn't exactly work like that.)

"If you're sure," he says.

Silence for a second, in which he studies her with grave care, then offers his hand.

"My name's Frank Black."

"I'm Phoenix." Uh -- " She takes his hand. "Beth actually, but we've got so many other Beths that it's just easier to go by Phoenix."

She's trying not to search his face too much and failing miserably.

"Nice to meet you."

"You too."

As she searches his face, Frank holds her gaze for a second.

"Is something wrong?"

"No!" Very hastily, as she lets go. "No. I'm fine."

And the suck-ass lying continues. But, well. If it's between that and discussing exactly how she knows him, and/or how she knows Sylar...

Yeah.

"Normally I might not pursue it," he says, after a moment. "But I'm afraid you don't seem well, Miss Phoenix."

A beat.

"It's Sylar, isn't it."

It's not exactly a question.

Aw, fuck.

(Because that can never not be said enough.)

Phoenix pales further. "Yeah," she says in a small voice, drawing up her legs so she's seated crosslegged on the couch, the blanket balled up in her lap. Stronger: "But seriously, it's not what you think. It really, really isn't. And it's not something I can explain because if I do you'll -- "

Too late, she scrambles for the off switch for that stream of babble. Phoenix shuts her eyes and leans forward in mimicry of a headdesk without the, y'know, desk. "Just trust me, okay? If he shows up I know damn well to start running."

"You don't have to be afraid of him."

Steadily; very steady, and very certain.

"If you're ... gifted; if he's after you because of that; there are people who can help. You don't have to face him alone."

"No, trust me, I really, really do have to be afraid of him." And that's firm, even as Phoenix's eyes are very wide.

A beat later, she sighs, relenting a little. "If you wanna call it some kind of gift, fine, but it doesn't exactly work like that. And the plan's to run, or...get somebody else over here to take care of him. I know how to handle him that much."

She presses a hand to her face with a small laugh. "Shit. I'm babbling. I'm sorry."

"It's all right."

Quietly said. A beat.

"I'd like to help you."

Phoenix drops her hand and just stares.

"Um." As she starts talking, she breaks eye contact to try and gather her thoughts better. "I don't know if that's a -- no offense, it's not like I don't appreciate it, but, um. How?"

And back to staring.

"I'll be honest with you; I don't know yet, but I believe that there's a way to stop him."

A beat of silence, and when he continues, Frank's voice is a little too even.

"He's done a great deal of harm. It can't be allowed to continue."

...So you know that tight, cold feeling you get in your chest when your adrenaline levels suddenly skyrocket?

Yeah. Like that.

"Yeah. I know. We shouldn't be talking," says Phoenix, a little shakily, as she shoves the blanket off her lap and stands up. "Frank, I'm sorry, I am so sorry -- please believe me. If there's anything -- "

Moment's pause for another deep breath.

"Look. I can tell you things about him. Gaps, I don't know, you probably already know most of it but there's some stuff -- anything -- "

She owes him something to make up for it, even if it's ridiculously small. And even if he won't remember it anyway.

That wasn't the response he was expecting, and for an instant his surprise shows.

"You--"

(hissssssssss--- sound of static and distant echoes)

He shakes his head, eyes narrowing.

(-- he's so... understand him -- )

(Tick.)

Ninety-nine point nine percent of the time, Phoenix has got jack-all in common with Sylar and is eternally grateful that things are that way.

The other point one percent of the time, she wouldn't mind having the superpowers, at least. Being able to tell at a glance if somebody's ability just switched on would be very, very handy.

"Please don't ask me how." And that's in a voice so small that it makes her last small voice look like an elephant.

"You have some sort of insight, don't you. Some... understanding."

It's not a question.

"Where is he, Phoenix?"

"Right now he's -- "

Phoenix pauses, then coughs into her fist as if she's clearing her throat. Several yards above their heads, a sign reading SPOILER WARNING materializes and affixes itself to the ceiling.

She lowers her voice. "Right now he's being held captive in some facility in God knows where in Mexico being used as a guinea pig again. He's not conscious. He's going to be, eventually, but...not for a while. They found him after -- "

Another pause, and she makes a few quick backtracking now motions with her hands. "He didn't blow up New York. Not for lack of trying, but he got stopped, and they found him after that."

"In a facility."

Frank's studying her carefully.

"But not an official facility. Is that right?"

"Sort of?"

She winces, making a seesawing motion with her hands this time. The scrutiny makes her drop her gaze again as she continues, "People connected with some of the more official stuff in the States are there, kind of. But if you're talking the actual facility facility, it's more like a shack."

"I've got to call Peter. There has to be a way to get there. The Group should be able..."

He breaks off there, and gives her a speculative look.

"I don't think that's -- "

She trails off at the look, head cocked and forehead creased.

"What?"

"Can you come with me?"

....................

Yep. Phoenix was afraid that was what the look meant.

"That," she says, way too calmly as her eyes go wide again, "is really not a good idea. I don't think it'd even work."

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