Figure 8 Ch. 06

Flashing thoughts of Sylar might come violently in her mind, but they didn't last forever. He bloomed in her mind like exotic flowers, she just didn't have the right temperature in her heart to maintain them.

Her knees pressed tightly together. There wasn't room or energy in her heart to keep something just so it could die. And at the end of the day, when all of the electric feelings settled down, she was sure it Adam she dreamt of to help her sleep. Emma hated how she couldn't keep her mind faithful to him. Her heart was. She was a hundred percent sure her heart belonged to him. Could she be blamed for her explorative mind?

"A porno would sell better than a love story based on my life."

There must've been a look on her face because Greg reached out to reassuringly hold her hand.

"Let me give you some advice that my boyfriend once told me when I was trying to figure out if I wanted to be exclusive with him. He told me: Life is like a roller coaster. Out of all the decisions you can make, just remember that the only kind of roller coaster that only goes up is an unfinished one."

Startled, Emma looked at Greg. His face had changed from his usual pleased look to a concerned, fatherly gaze.

"You make the best decision for you, Emma."

Those words struck her. What could the best decision for her be? If Greg's advice was supposed to calm her mind, it didn't. Because all her life, people told her she was too easy. Adam often called her pushover, who based her life around making other people happy. In those moments, that didn't matter to her. Not when her friends insisted on going to parties she was uncomfortable with, not when Adam asked her to spend hours up with him in the library to study -- but she always paid for those decisions with sleepless nights, tossing and turning, wondering why she was always second best.

Best decision... Emma licked her lips, wondering what that meant for her. Did she have to consider the distant future or would the immediate one, the one where Adam would leave within a month, be enough to know? Greg's eyes were so full of compassion. She was about to ask for his advice when someone cried, "So who's going to watch the van tonight, yo?"

The crew looked around, no one wanting to give up their soft bed for a sleepless night in the van. Emma quickly jumped out, "I'll do it," she cried, surprising the crew and herself. It was a rash decision in the back of her mind, but Greg was right. Whatever thrill Sylar gave her was just an unfinished ride, and if she kept going, she was just going to crash and burn. Staying away from Sylar was the best decision for herself.

"Sure," said one man, whose enthusiasm got him smacked in the back of the head.

"We're not going to let you watch the van alone."

Emma pouted, "Are you saying that because I'm a girl?"

"Yes."

"That's sexist. I can watch the van just as well as you guys can."

Greg came forward, "Emma, I don't think - "

She faced him with the most determined look on her face that had him stop and reconsider. "I... it's best if I watch the van, Greg," she said softly, "Just cause you know, Tamara snores..."

Her stuttering didn't have him convinced. However the pleading look on her face as she bit her lower lip had him undone. He nodded.

"I'm going to hell for letting you stay out here alone."

Hell he was going to get from Sylar. That boy was protective over that girl, practically obsessed and didn't even know it. It was more than a sexual fascination, Greg could see that, but it didn't mean that Sylar's interest would still exist after sex. That was why he had to protect Emma, as much as he could.

"Right, but you think any of them are actually going to watch the van," she muttered, pointing at the crew members who were more than happy to be off the hook, "so it's either me or an angry Nick tomorrow morning when over five thousand dollars of equipment goes missing."

"I'm going to get you a taser."

"Really?"

"No, but one of the actresses has a pepper spray."

"Oh damn."

Greg tsked, "Like I'd give you a weapon, Emma."

He helped her down, and they walked back to the rooms, with her heart feeling light in her chest. Her rooming problem with Sylar was fixed, and she didn't even have to cause a scene. The fix had been quiet, like her. That was how she preferred things, waiting for her problems to slip through the cracks.

Although her avoidance scheme was arguably one of the worst ways to go about this Sylar situation. It didn't diffuse anything, just prolong the countdown to detonation. She was sure of that.

She'd probably regret volunteering as soon as sun set. A crew member mentioned how the night air would trap her onto the cold floor of the van. But the decision assuaged her conscience and that was what mattered the most. Talking to Adam about this trip would be easier -- facing his anger with her being left alone at night was still better than lying about sharing a bed with... a male co-worker.

---

After dinner, Sylar soaked himself underneath the shower. He hoped to turn into a prune or a raisin, to become anything but alive for the next few hours. The first thing on his mind when he saw the single bed was to demand a new room, or at least a room with twin beds. Under any other circumstance with any other girl, a single bed would've been fine. But that was just the point: Of the million coincidences laid out to torture him, this had to be it.

Emma wasn't like any girl he knew, not like anyone he remembered in the last ten years of his life. She didn't respond to his jokes or come ons. Her wary nature made him think about the "outside" world; the world he had been out of touch with since he had been fourteen. A world he found chaotic and hypocritical.

There would be days he'd walk into a convenience store or on the street and find people staring at him. If the gazers were men, they'd be looking at him with a competitive glare. If they were girls, they'd giggle and point. He'd flash them a disarming smile that made them blush for thinking thoughts their mothers would never approve of. But never, in a million years, would they approach him. All because of his career choice. He didn't care. He got a kick out of staring back at them, challenging them to face their dark desires, but some days, sometimes... when the work was slow, he felt like a dirty secret.

His friend were all in the business; their on-screen personalities were exaggerated mimicries of their real life ones. Hints of aggression, lust and the basic primal urge to get naked and fuck always lined their conversations. Ever since Sylar was legal, he loved it. Indulging in the carefree lifestyle: Girls. Money. Sex. The order was never the same, but the pay off and various combinations that they came in was always satisfying. It was the only world he knew of.

Until Emma.

She had stepped into his world so carefully, as not to tread on butterflies, but somehow managed to entangle herself into the forest that was his mind. The part of his mind that rarely dreamt of normalcy was suddenly awake, scrambling for a chance to experience playing by the world's rules. If he had met her before, as a teenager -- Sylar groaned as the water got cold -- no, even as a teenager, he wouldn't have stopped his goal to work in porn. Sure she might have delayed the process, but they would've inevitable split.

Except that wasn't what happening, was it? She was here now. She was here, as close to the youthful image of desire that she needed to be... to... It didn't matter now, did it? Her timing in his life had made all the difference.

The water was slowly starting to freeze, signaling for him to come to an end with these roundabout thoughts. Showers were the one place Sylar didn't mix with pleasure or women. It wasn't the water that turned him off, in fact there were plenty of times ice cold water did nothing to calm his erections, but there was just something serene about water pelting his skin. It was a personal experience that stripped him away from the rest of the world. He could think without distractions and step out of the steam as a new person. It allowed him to clear his head. Think rationally. And his rational thoughts were now berating him for not demanding a room change. Exactly what was supposed to come from this? He couldn't imagine anything other than uncomfortable nights and awkward mornings.

As he stepped out of the shower to dry himself, he made the concrete decision to speak with Nick. It wouldn't be too late. Hell, he'd take Tamara's snores over a torturous night next to Emma... the one woman he wanted to touch but couldn't. Fuck, he thought as the heavy condensation of the room quickly erased the fresh feeling of being clean. That was a lie. He wouldn't trade this chance to be with her, even if it meant spending sleepless nights.

He thought about jumping back in for a blast of cold water when someone knocked at the door.

"Who is it?" he called out, wrapping the towel around his waist. Ah fuck, it was probably Emma, too shy to come in on her own accord. His mind changed at the thought of her afraid of him again. "Just come in, I didn't lock it."

He heard the door open and shut. Feet shuffled against the carpeted floor and past the bathroom towards the bed. Sylar's hand hovered over the door knob as he prepared himself. He'd offer to exchange rooms, to do whatever made her feel more comfortable. Yeah, he'd do that -- fuck! Sylar wanted to twist his own neck. In the last five minutes he had left the shower, he had gone back and forth so many times, he was at square one all over again. The easiest option would be to confront her and ask her what she wanted.

He swiftly threw the door open but instead of Emma sitting on the bed, it was Greg.

"Hello darling," he said cheerily and pointed towards Sylar's crotch. "Is that for me?"

Sylar growled in annoyance and tightened the towel around his waist.

"What's up, Greg?"

"Ah, just came to get Emma's bag."

Sylar paled. He turned his back, pretending to dig for clothes out of his own bag. There wasn't much to choose from, but he had to stall to calm his erection. He finally settled on a pair of boxers and slipped them on before removing his towel. When he tried around, all thoughts about lying flew out the window. Greg's expression was unamused as he picked up Emma's bag off the floor.

"Is she moving rooms?" he asked as casually as he could.

Greg was watching him too closely for comfort. He cleared his throat.

"Just wondering where you're taking her stuff," he stuttered, "She could've asked me."

Greg laughed, far too loudly for Sylar's comfort.

"Yeah right."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sylar snapped.

"I know Nick's your little bitch when it comes to making you happy, but you need to stop ..." Greg pointed to all of him and more directly at his crotch. "All of this."

"Wait, what, Nick?"

"Yeah, he put you in this room with her cause you requested it, didn't he?"

"No. I would never do that."

Greg snorted. "Typical Nick. Observant and crafty like a fucking snake. But that's beside the point. You should've said no the moment he put you two together."

"How," Sylar jerked on his jeans with force, he hated when Greg turned on his parental control mode, "is it completely my fault? She knew about it too, she could've asked for a new room. It goes both ways."

"Emma's just a -- "

The ugly monster inside of him twisted and snapped, "And maybe that's the other thing. Maybe we should stop babying her and she'd grow a dick or two. God knows she could use one."

Immediately after those words came out, he regretted them. He was just glad Emma wasn't there it hear it. Every time she was made to feel bad, he made himself feel ten times worse. He knew she was different -- he was reminded of that fact every waking moment he thought of her. When he wasn't sleeping, he was dreaming of her, creating stories where they walked the park together... drank coffee. Dangerous everyday things.

Why did he always have to go crushing the little respect she had left even when she wasn't around? He avoided Greg's gaze as he pulled on a t-shirt.

"Sorry," he exhaled, moving to sit next to his friend. The mattress dipped between the two as Greg remained silent. "I can't... fuck, I can't seem think right when it comes to her." His thoughts were all consuming. It was always all or nothing. The in-betweens that he shared only happened when they were apart.

Sylar looked at the clock. It was way past eight. Where was she?

Greg patted his hand.

"If any girl in the world was to break your ice cold heart, Emma is the one to do it." His friend shook his head and squeezed his hand tight. "But whatever you're feeling for her has to stop. She has a boyfriend."

Sylar jerked his hand away. The comment about having an ice cold heart had hurt more than the reminder of Emma's boyfriend. Memories of a girl he had tried to date years ago, one that wasn't in the industry, came back to him. A girl that knew about his life style and didn't seem to care until she discovered just how many films he had starred in.

But what difference should that have made?

Teeth gritting from the memory, Sylar said more sharply than he intended, "I know that."

Greg slung Emma's bag over his shoulder. "Good."

"Wait, where did she move to?"

"She's staying out by the van tonight." Sylar's chest pounded as Greg confirmed his thoughts. "I bet my dick it's to avoid you."

"Did she tell you -"

"No, but she didn't have to tell me. I can see it in her eyes and don't think for a second, nobody saw what happened on the bus. We're not blind. If anything, Sylar, you just made her life harder because the crew won't let her lift a pinky."

"I didn't think -- "

Greg shook his head. "She's fixed it herself." There was a hint of pride in his voice. "That's the kind of girl Emma is. She offered to watch the van, and got the respect she lost back. The last thing she needs is for people to think she's sleeping around."

Sylar's head spun. Just how much did everyone know? He cursed Emma's trusting nature. Of course she told Greg everything. Greg, her older brother figure in all of this mess, always watched out for her even through all the chaos Sylar had thrown her way. But deep inside, he also knew it had nothing to do with Emma. It was all his fault. He was never shy about expressing himself, and in the course of that had forgotten how many eyes watched his every move.

That was the perfect way to describe what she did to him. She brought him back to the real world. The world that ignored his existence and he ignored theirs. So when it came to Emma, his mind always fell into this space, where it was just the two of them in the real world. It was a place where he could go out and people could admire him rather than turn their head in disgust.

"I'm going to get a drink, you want one?"

Greg lifted Emma's bag as an answer.

Sylar shrugged. "Give it to her after. She's not going to go anywhere..." His hand hovered over the door as the possibility of Emma waiting behind it stalled him. Was she that afraid to face him? His throat felt dry. If she was, did she hear his harsh words? If she wasn't, did she hear them all the same?

"I'd rather get this stuff to her sooner rather than later. It's going to be cold tonight."

Sylar nodded. He opened the door to let Greg through and then closed it behind him. "Meet me at the bar after, maybe?"

"Oh definitely."

Greg winked as he walked away. Emma's bag hung lightly over his shoulders, swaying back and forth like a pendulum.

Sylar rubbed his face, the roughness of his growing hair itched against his fingers. Nick had requested that he didn't shave for this shoot. He wasn't used to the feeling, it was like each hair on his face had a nerve of its own.

A few girls stared at him as he walked down the hallway They were young, most likely eighteen, dressed in high cut-off shorts that exposed their trim legs. He flashed them a grin that had them squealing towards their room. From the look on their face, he guessed that they didn't recognize him. He smiled softly. It felt nice to be admired under simpler terms.

---

Emma shivered as the night air began to build up around her. She had to move from sleeping in the back of the van, to the front, where the cushioned seats acted as a makeshift bed, giving her an illusion of warmth. Who knew the woods could get so cold at night? She bent down to pull out any large article of clothing from her bag and laid it over herself. The dropping temperature was relentless as she curled into a ball. She clenched every muscle in her body, hoping her own skin could warm herself, when the need to pee hit her hard.

"Crap," she whispered as she closed her eyes, hoping it would pass. Kidney failure or urinary tract infection, they were probably worth the risk than freezing outside with the possibility of being eaten alive by a bear. Greg had said there were bears in this area, right? She wished she could read his sarcastic comments better. He was always so cheery; it was hard to tell.

She sniffled as she tried to keep still so her blanket made of shirts wouldn't fall off. Was this really worse than spending a room with Sylar? The wind howled again, knocking against the poorly insulated truck. It definitely was. And she could only hold her pee for so long before she spent in her own pants. At least that would keep her warm, she laughed. She instantly regretted that, as her curled up body only forced more pressure onto her bladder. Ah screw it, she thought as she sat up and opened the van door. She had to go.

If there were camp rules to peeing, Emma didn't know if they were important life or death rules. She did know that tomorrow morning, the crew would be here bright and early and the last thing she wanted was evidence of pee, whether sight or scent. Plus the thought of her pee anywhere near the scene made her gag, so she walked far into the bushes to find a safe spot.

She was finished up after what seemed like a long enough time for the sun to have come. It was a good thing she had made a decision to go now rather than waking up in the dead of the night. Crickets chirped around her. Normally she would've found the songs eerie, but it was something she preferred over complete silence.

Silence.

As she crawled into the van, she realized it had gotten deadly quiet. No crickets, just the rustle of the wind against the trees. Emma tucked her knees to her chest, and piled on all her clothes on top of her. The walls of the van blocked the wind, but the overall temperature had dropped significantly lower since this afternoon. Her teeth chattered as she looked around for any signs of bears. What was she supposed to do if there were bears?

Bears weren't thieves. They'd wreck the equipment without a second thought to the cost. And she wouldn't be able to handle a bear... definitely not.

"Damn it."

Emma curled up tighter in her ball of clothes and tried to force herself to sleep. She wished it was warmer, wished she could turn on the heater. Instead, she was left staring at the night sky and shivering until her body exhausted itself. It was one of the most uncomfortable sleeps of her entire life.

---

Sylar didn't know why he was so angry. He just knew he felt it the moment he saw Nick direct Emma to stand in for whatever actress he was supposed to fuck later on. He supposed it was a build up of the entire day. Waking up without her there, wondering through his blazing hangover how she slept, and opening the window to discover the cold morning air set him off on a really bad start.

He had heard Greg ask her how her night was. She amicably replied it was okay. But everything about her told him she was miserable. Her black eyes, chapped and pale lips, and the constant sneezing -- did no one really notice her sneezing?