Fic: The Cave
Title: The Cave
Characters: Sylar/Mohinder, The Haitian, Molly, Sanjog
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~4300
Summary: Mohinder is on a mission to track down Sylar, but a strange, recurring dream distracts him from his goal
Genre: Suspense, horror, minor slashing, angst
A/N: Written for the mylar_fic 10 Words Challenge. Prompt word: cave.
Inspired by The Enigma of Amigara Fault
Mohinder blinked; once, twice, and on the third time he began to wonder what he was staring at.
It took him a few moments to realize that he was lying facedown on the ground. His palms lay flat on gritty, dry sand; the wind howled and whistled all around him, blowing the soil into his eyes.
He got up slowly, dusting himself off and taking in his surroundings. He couldn’t make out much more than a few feet in front of him, so he surmised that it must be night.
How did I get here? he wondered, clapping his hands together lightly.
“I don’t think that’s what you should be asking yourself.”
Mohinder spun around, and he saw Sylar standing in front of him. He was wearing a long, black trench coat, the bottom of which was being blown about by the wind.
“Sylar,” Mohinder whispered, and he tried to take a few steps toward the man. His legs didn’t move, and he looked down to see that that they were stiffly rooted to the ground.
He looked back up to meet Sylar’s eyes, and then he said, his voice shaking slightly: “This is the part when you try to kill me again, right?”
“If I wanted to kill you, you’d be dead by now,” Sylar replied lazily as he began to inspect his fingernails. “Why don’t we take a walk?”
Suddenly, Mohinder’s legs snapped into motion, forcing him to walk past Sylar.
“I’m supposed to be on a mission,” he gritted out between his teeth as he continued to march forward.
“Fascinating,” Sylar’s sarcastic words echoed behind him. “Please do spare me the details.”
“Where are you taking me?”
He could visualize Sylar grinning as he spoke, baring his teeth in the dark.
“Oh, you’ll see.”
They silently trekked across the vast desert, Mohinder walking in front of Sylar. He could still only see his feet marching out from underneath him. The wind picked up even more, sending waves of sand swirling around his legs. He noticed that there were no other signs of life around: no plants, no animals scuttling into hiding as he planted one foot mechanically down after the next.
After what seemed no longer than five minutes of walking, Mohinder’s left leg refused to lift itself. Immediately afterward, his right leg locked itself stubbornly into the ground; yet, oddly enough, he did not fall over onto his face.
Sylar sidled up next to him with his hands clasped behind his back. Mohinder twisted his neck to look at Sylar, who was still staring straight ahead - the man was practically bristling with excitement, his eyes darting around quickly before him.
“What - ” Mohinder started, but Sylar shushed him firmly before he could get another word out.
“Look,” the man in black said simply, and Mohinder followed his gaze.
A massive hole stretched out before the two men, gaping and framed by dull, tan-colored rock and granite. The mouth of the cave was black, blacker than the space through which Mohinder could not see as he had traveled to this spot.
He gasped slightly as he took in the new sight. It was an ordinary-looking cave, but there was something about it that took hold of his gaze, some magnetic pull coming from deep within the black abyss.
Mohinder couldn’t tear his eyes away from it, not until Sylar stepped forward.
“Wait - what are you doing?” the geneticist called out suddenly. He surprised himself moreso than Sylar. He shrugged off Mohinder’s arm and continued to walk straight ahead, toward the black hole looming before the men.
He paused just outside the entrance; Mohinder could barely see him anymore.
“Why don’t you come inside?” he asked with a slight tilt of his head. When Mohinder saw that the cave opening was casting shadowy patterns across Sylar’s face, he -
Woke up.
Mohinder jerked in his sheets so vehemently that he kicked his thin blanket down to the floor. He instantly brought his hand to his face, rubbing his eyes as though he were trying to get sand out of them.
Pulling his hand back, he began to take in his surroundings. The glow of the digital clock illuminated his tiny motel room, burning through the darkness. Mohinder let his arm fall back down to rest as he remembered where he was.
Arizona. He was in Arizona, on a mission with The Haitian to find and track down someone whom had escaped from the Company facility in Texas. Molly had told them to come here, to this town, because she knew where they would find Sylar. She had wanted Mohinder to go even more than Parkman did; finding Sylar was more of a priority to her than being with Mohinder. Suresh had initially tried to evade Bishop’s orders for him to track down Sylar so that he could instead continue his research, but after he realized he was given no choice in the matter, he went along grudgingly with his nameless partner.
He was at least relieved of the fact that they would not be doing much talking during their mission.
As Mohinder’s thoughts turned to The Haitian, he remembered where the man was. He was lying in the adjoining room, separated by a creaky door and thin walls. Mohinder briefly considered going into the other bedroom, but after wondering how he would begin to explain the strange, vivid dream he had just had, he settled himself back down on his pillows and listened to the wind outside, waiting for it to lull him back to sleep.
Try as he might, the scientist couldn’t sleep for the rest of the night.
*****************************
“He’s still here,” Mohinder told the Haitian as he hung up the phone. The man towered over him as he sat on the edge of his mattress; the sheets were still tangled at the foot of the bed while the blanket lay forgotten on the floor.
Suresh raised two fingers up to rub at his eyes. He missed the next few words his partner said to him.
“I’m sorry?”
“I said that I had a good feeling about today. We will find him, and then he will be The Company’s problem, not ours.”
“Oh.” Mohinder frowned slightly beneath the shadow of his hand. “I… I hope you’re right.”
A few seconds of silence ticked by, and the Haitian announced that he would be waiting outside in the car for Mohinder to join him.
At first, Mohinder didn’t want to move. He continued to stab at the corner of his eyes, pressing into them roughly for what seemed like hours.
He tried to get the sand out, but he couldn’t.
*****************************
“Tomorrow.”
The Haitian’s voice sounded neutral; despite their fruitless efforts to search for Sylar in a town with a population of 2,300 citizens, he wasn’t ready to accept defeat.
Mohinder, on the other hand, was all too eager to drop down onto his freshly-made bed and close himself off to the outside world.
When he opened his eyes, however, he found himself in the desert.
Again.
Mohinder spun around wildly, but Sylar wasn’t there to taunt him this time. Mohinder trudged forward across sand dunes when he realized that he was alone, and it took him less time to reach the same cave that Sylar had gone into.
The top of the cavern stretched up high above Suresh’s head, and he felt his neck begin to ache as his gaze focused upward for some time.
Then:
“Go into the cave, Mohinder.”
He snapped his head back down and saw Molly standing in front of him. Her bare feet were buried in the dirt as she stood calmly in front of the open entrance.
She smiled. Her voice came out clear and lilting, as though she were singing to him.
“Go inside, Mohinder!”
He cocked his head to the side. “Why?”
Molly was quick to raise one foot and stamp down, raising a light cloud of dust around her toes. Her right hand began to curl into a fist, then she relaxed it as she regained her composure.
“Just… please do it. For me?”
Mohinder took only one step forward before he woke up.
*****************************
The next few days passed by him in a blur of sitting in the passenger side of the rental car as The Haitian drove around and around the town. The two men sat at the diner, completely silent for entire meals, or what little Mohinder could choke down. Every piece of food he ate felt like there was a thin coating of sand covering it, and he was constantly rubbing at his eyes for minutes on end during sudden bouts of anxiety.
“Are you all right?” The Haitian asked him once, before they went to their separate beds.
“No,” Mohinder replied curtly, and he slammed the door behind him.
Each night, Mohinder woke up in the desert, and he could never see far beyond his immediate surroundings. He walked forward, backward, and sideways, but no matter which direction or how he moved, he always ended up at the cave.
Molly was always there. She never verbally greeted him - instead, she kept repeating in her sing-song voice: “Go into the cave, Mohinder!” She smiled brightly at him, and once, she even waved.
Mohinder would make it one or two steps, but never more; then, he’d instantly wake up with soaked sheets snarled around his legs while he lay blinking in his small motel bed.
He’d settle back down against his pillow, and wait for the sun to rise.
*****************************
Should I tell him? he wondered on the eighth day, staring down into his cup of black coffee. It felt like he was gazing into the mouth of the cave that haunted him so, but at least he didn’t feel like spitting out the liquid because it felt gritty and harsh on his tongue.
The Haitian was keeping his gaze averted from Mohinder as he ate, but Mohinder knew what he was beginning to look like these days. His hair was even more disheveled than usual, and he had taken note of the circles under his eyes.
He scratched at his lashes, and The Haitian let his fork fall down onto his plate with a deafening CLINK. Mohinder didn’t even wince at the sound; he was too busy trying to look away from The Haitian’s piercing, watchful stare.
“You need to eat,” he said with a touch of sternness in his voice. “You need to get more sleep as well. I know this is rude of me to say, but I must tell you that you also need to take a shower.”
“I’ll sleep after we’ve found Sylar,” Mohinder muttered, forcing his hand to pull away from his face, to stop worrying at his eye. His fingers were shaking, and he knew that The Haitian could see him tremble.
“It is possible that he has left already. It is possible - ” The Haitian hesitated, just for a moment before continuing, “that you are lying to me about your communications with the Walker girl.”
Mohinder sucked at his teeth in annoyance. The truth was that he hadn’t contacted Molly since the second night she’d appeared in his dreams. He wasn’t afraid to speak to her, he just felt as though Sylar would still be around, that the man still might not know of his presence.
Or at least, that was what he told himself.
“You need to tell me if you are up for this mission, Doctor,” The Haitian lowered his voice as he spoke. “I will contact Bishop later today, and-”
“No!” Mohinder hissed. He finally made eye contact with The Haitian, and he saw something like worry flit across the tall man’s features. “I can handle this. I just - I just need a little time to rest, that’s all.”
“Would you like to go back to the motel while I search around some more?”
Mohinder nodded as he pushed away his mug. The black liquid inside swirled around, and it came dangerously close to spilling over the ceramic edges.
*****************************
No sooner after he had collapsed onto the mattress, the geneticist dove back into a state of murky unconsciousness.
The same thing happened, once again. He rose up from the ground, dusting himself off, and ambled off in a completely random direction. Though his body constantly felt weighed down during his waking hours, in his dreams, he felt as light and fit as he had when he was ten years younger. He swiftly made his way across the dunes, blocking the occasional burst of wind by using his hand as a makeshift visor.
When he arrived at the cave with its round, black mouth gaping invitingly at him, he let his arm fall back to rest at his side. Molly was nowhere to be seen; instead, a young boy stood directly in between Mohinder and the entrance.
“Where’s Molly?” Mohinder asked him, his voice coming out strained and muffled.
Sanjog shook his head solemnly.
“You shouldn’t go inside,” he said in a warning tone.
Mohinder took one step toward the boy, willing himself to concentrate on the cave.
“Please,” Sanjog implored simply. “Please, don’t.”
One more step.
Then a third.
For the first time, Mohinder had made it all the way to standing just outside of the utter darkness. His jacket flapped in the wind; the bottom corner grazed Sanjog’s arm just slightly.
Suresh finally looked away from the abyss before himself, bending his neck down to match Sanjog’s worried gaze.
“She’s in there, isn’t she?” the man asked of the boy. “With Sylar.”
Sanjog only stared in response at first. Then, he opened his mouth.
“Whatever you do, don’t go inside.”
Mohinder’s body jerked. His mind snapped back to reality directly afterward. Outside, the sun was already beginning to set, and when it vanished from sight, someone began to knock on the door.
*****************************
After the Haitian explained where he’d been, Mohinder dodged past him to stride down the empty hallway.
“We should wait until morning,” the man called out. Mohinder ignored him. He skipped every other step on the stairs going down - the new burst of energy he was feeling pushed away any doubts or worries he felt otherwise. Even when he felt too much vertigo and wondered if he would fall flat on his face, he jumped down the last four steps like he did when he was a child.
His partner caught up with him at the car, and they both wordlessly got inside. Mohinder drove this time, following the Haitian’s precise directions. He ignored the one inquiry made to him: how he was feeling.
They made it to the highway just outside of town. When Mohinder pressed down on the brakes, the skidding tires kicked up a small cloud of dust. Mohinder turned off the ignition, and watched the high beams flicker off before he threw open his door.
He heard the steps of the Haitian behind him as he trudged away from the vehicle. Together, the men walked in complete and utter silence. Mohinder barely registered the fact that his shoes seemed to be sinking a little further into the ground than before ; he felt even more weightless and resolute than he did in his dreams. He also felt not so much like he was walking, but as though he was being pulled forward by an invisible force - like a string had been tied around his waist and someone was jerking on it. He was merely following along.
After what seemed like an hour, Mohinder reached up one hand to wipe the line of sweat that had formed across his hairline. He pushed his dark curls back, exhaling sharply as he came to a halt.
The cave in his dreams loomed over him. It was smaller than he had imagined; the opening seemed only large enough for a young adult to crouch down as a means of getting in.
“He must be inside,” The Haitian said from behind him. “There would be no other reason for him to come all this way.”
“You’re sure you saw him go in this direction?” It was more of a statement than a question, but Mohinder wanted to make absolute certain of his partner’s account.
There was a brief moment of silence before he received confirmation.
Mohinder moved to take a step toward the cavern when he felt a tight grip clamp down on his shoulder. He wouldn’t - couldn’t - look back; his eyes were irrevocably drawn to the mouth of the cave. He felt the way he did when he was staring down into a microscope. He both felt and heard his own heartbeat, the speed and intensity of which was rising with every passing moment.
Still, he heard the deep voice resonating behind him, overpowering the pounding noise in his ears: “I don’t think you should go in there. Not tonight. I’ll go first.”
Mohinder wordlessly took another step forward. Then another. And another. He closed the distance between himself and the cave entrance so quickly that the Haitian’s hand slipped off from his shoulder, and in an instant, Mohinder squeezed himself inside the hole, bending down to crawl on his hands and knees.
Darkness surrounded him, it was ten times darker than it had been outside. While Mohinder’s vision had adjusted enough for him to make out the first few feet in front of him as he had trekked across the desert, he couldn’t even see his own hands in front of him here. He had heard the Haitian shouting after him when he’d breached the dank opening, but the voice was barely audible, now that he was several yards inside the cave. The walls pressed in on him as he wormed his way forward on his belly, but Mohinder pushed on, refusing to panic as dirt fell from above and rocks clattered and bounced onto his back.
Then, without any warning, Mohinder suddenly felt the pressure of the earth recede from his sides and back, and a cool breeze rushed in through his airway. He inhaled deeply, grateful for the fresh oxygen, and when he exhaled with a sigh -
“I was beginning to think that you’d never come.”
A disembodied voice, emanating from all around the professor. It sounded like…
“Sylar?” he whispered.
The voice laughed. It started out deep, then slowly transformed into the high and lilting tone belonging to a girl or young boy.
"Molly?" he asked, though he already knew that the voice did not belong to his adopted daughter.
There was no response, and when the laughing finally stopped, Mohinder, with his legs still trapped in the tunnel through which he’d crawled, felt the blood in his veins instantly turn to ice.
Sanjog had been right.
Mohinder saw a trail of sparks ignite to his left, bringing light to the inside of the cave.
He saw the source of the voice.
He opened his mouth to scream, but no sound would ever come out.
*****************************
“No.
“Yes.
“… I could not stop him. He was too fast for me. I tried to go in after him, but the opening is too small - Of course I waited for him. He was there for hours.”
The Haitian related his tale in short, expressionless sentences. How he’d waited until the sun rose up, alternating between attempting to force himself inside the entrance and calling after Suresh. How Mohinder’s body had been shoved out when the light finally reached the cavern; his eyes had been gouged out and the holes filled with sand, the blood on his thumbs had long since dried, and his skin was now so much more pale and parched to the touch. He’d looked as though he’d been sucked dry, as if all of his bodily fluids had been cleaned out.
After the Haitian explained that he’d dragged the corpse - or rather, shell of a corpse - back to the car, he was silent for a long, long time. He stood absolutely still, letting the wind ruffle his shirt, and then, after what seemed like an eternity, he said in a much quieter voice:
“Yes. I will.”
He promptly hung up the phone; the noise reverberated all the way to the other side of the motel into another silent man's eardrums.
Sylar leaned his back against the wall, letting the Haitian’s words finally sink in. His fingers curled into his palm. Nails dug into taut skin, and still he didn’t flinch when they began to draw blood.
He turned to leave when he heard the engine rumbling from the man’s car. It pulled out of the parking lot, and rolled away down the empty street.
Sylar broke into Mohinder’s room five minutes later, his sheets freshly pressed and his suitcase pushed back against the wall.
The man who was dressed in black lay down on the bed, and resolutely, he closed his eyes, breathing softly in and out until he entered the first stage of slumber, then the next, until he found himself blinking in the dark, windy desert.
Mohinder stood before him, looking amused as he stood confidently on the sand. Sylar curled his lips back to reveal his clenched teeth.
“Lead the way,” he said quietly, and after delivering a curt nod with a grin, Mohinder began to do so.
Characters: Sylar/Mohinder, The Haitian, Molly, Sanjog
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~4300
Summary: Mohinder is on a mission to track down Sylar, but a strange, recurring dream distracts him from his goal
Genre: Suspense, horror, minor slashing, angst
A/N: Written for the mylar_fic 10 Words Challenge. Prompt word: cave.
Inspired by The Enigma of Amigara Fault
Mohinder blinked; once, twice, and on the third time he began to wonder what he was staring at.
It took him a few moments to realize that he was lying facedown on the ground. His palms lay flat on gritty, dry sand; the wind howled and whistled all around him, blowing the soil into his eyes.
He got up slowly, dusting himself off and taking in his surroundings. He couldn’t make out much more than a few feet in front of him, so he surmised that it must be night.
How did I get here? he wondered, clapping his hands together lightly.
“I don’t think that’s what you should be asking yourself.”
Mohinder spun around, and he saw Sylar standing in front of him. He was wearing a long, black trench coat, the bottom of which was being blown about by the wind.
“Sylar,” Mohinder whispered, and he tried to take a few steps toward the man. His legs didn’t move, and he looked down to see that that they were stiffly rooted to the ground.
He looked back up to meet Sylar’s eyes, and then he said, his voice shaking slightly: “This is the part when you try to kill me again, right?”
“If I wanted to kill you, you’d be dead by now,” Sylar replied lazily as he began to inspect his fingernails. “Why don’t we take a walk?”
Suddenly, Mohinder’s legs snapped into motion, forcing him to walk past Sylar.
“I’m supposed to be on a mission,” he gritted out between his teeth as he continued to march forward.
“Fascinating,” Sylar’s sarcastic words echoed behind him. “Please do spare me the details.”
“Where are you taking me?”
He could visualize Sylar grinning as he spoke, baring his teeth in the dark.
“Oh, you’ll see.”
They silently trekked across the vast desert, Mohinder walking in front of Sylar. He could still only see his feet marching out from underneath him. The wind picked up even more, sending waves of sand swirling around his legs. He noticed that there were no other signs of life around: no plants, no animals scuttling into hiding as he planted one foot mechanically down after the next.
After what seemed no longer than five minutes of walking, Mohinder’s left leg refused to lift itself. Immediately afterward, his right leg locked itself stubbornly into the ground; yet, oddly enough, he did not fall over onto his face.
Sylar sidled up next to him with his hands clasped behind his back. Mohinder twisted his neck to look at Sylar, who was still staring straight ahead - the man was practically bristling with excitement, his eyes darting around quickly before him.
“What - ” Mohinder started, but Sylar shushed him firmly before he could get another word out.
“Look,” the man in black said simply, and Mohinder followed his gaze.
A massive hole stretched out before the two men, gaping and framed by dull, tan-colored rock and granite. The mouth of the cave was black, blacker than the space through which Mohinder could not see as he had traveled to this spot.
He gasped slightly as he took in the new sight. It was an ordinary-looking cave, but there was something about it that took hold of his gaze, some magnetic pull coming from deep within the black abyss.
Mohinder couldn’t tear his eyes away from it, not until Sylar stepped forward.
“Wait - what are you doing?” the geneticist called out suddenly. He surprised himself moreso than Sylar. He shrugged off Mohinder’s arm and continued to walk straight ahead, toward the black hole looming before the men.
He paused just outside the entrance; Mohinder could barely see him anymore.
“Why don’t you come inside?” he asked with a slight tilt of his head. When Mohinder saw that the cave opening was casting shadowy patterns across Sylar’s face, he -
Woke up.
Mohinder jerked in his sheets so vehemently that he kicked his thin blanket down to the floor. He instantly brought his hand to his face, rubbing his eyes as though he were trying to get sand out of them.
Pulling his hand back, he began to take in his surroundings. The glow of the digital clock illuminated his tiny motel room, burning through the darkness. Mohinder let his arm fall back down to rest as he remembered where he was.
Arizona. He was in Arizona, on a mission with The Haitian to find and track down someone whom had escaped from the Company facility in Texas. Molly had told them to come here, to this town, because she knew where they would find Sylar. She had wanted Mohinder to go even more than Parkman did; finding Sylar was more of a priority to her than being with Mohinder. Suresh had initially tried to evade Bishop’s orders for him to track down Sylar so that he could instead continue his research, but after he realized he was given no choice in the matter, he went along grudgingly with his nameless partner.
He was at least relieved of the fact that they would not be doing much talking during their mission.
As Mohinder’s thoughts turned to The Haitian, he remembered where the man was. He was lying in the adjoining room, separated by a creaky door and thin walls. Mohinder briefly considered going into the other bedroom, but after wondering how he would begin to explain the strange, vivid dream he had just had, he settled himself back down on his pillows and listened to the wind outside, waiting for it to lull him back to sleep.
Try as he might, the scientist couldn’t sleep for the rest of the night.
*****************************
“He’s still here,” Mohinder told the Haitian as he hung up the phone. The man towered over him as he sat on the edge of his mattress; the sheets were still tangled at the foot of the bed while the blanket lay forgotten on the floor.
Suresh raised two fingers up to rub at his eyes. He missed the next few words his partner said to him.
“I’m sorry?”
“I said that I had a good feeling about today. We will find him, and then he will be The Company’s problem, not ours.”
“Oh.” Mohinder frowned slightly beneath the shadow of his hand. “I… I hope you’re right.”
A few seconds of silence ticked by, and the Haitian announced that he would be waiting outside in the car for Mohinder to join him.
At first, Mohinder didn’t want to move. He continued to stab at the corner of his eyes, pressing into them roughly for what seemed like hours.
He tried to get the sand out, but he couldn’t.
*****************************
“Tomorrow.”
The Haitian’s voice sounded neutral; despite their fruitless efforts to search for Sylar in a town with a population of 2,300 citizens, he wasn’t ready to accept defeat.
Mohinder, on the other hand, was all too eager to drop down onto his freshly-made bed and close himself off to the outside world.
When he opened his eyes, however, he found himself in the desert.
Again.
Mohinder spun around wildly, but Sylar wasn’t there to taunt him this time. Mohinder trudged forward across sand dunes when he realized that he was alone, and it took him less time to reach the same cave that Sylar had gone into.
The top of the cavern stretched up high above Suresh’s head, and he felt his neck begin to ache as his gaze focused upward for some time.
Then:
“Go into the cave, Mohinder.”
He snapped his head back down and saw Molly standing in front of him. Her bare feet were buried in the dirt as she stood calmly in front of the open entrance.
She smiled. Her voice came out clear and lilting, as though she were singing to him.
“Go inside, Mohinder!”
He cocked his head to the side. “Why?”
Molly was quick to raise one foot and stamp down, raising a light cloud of dust around her toes. Her right hand began to curl into a fist, then she relaxed it as she regained her composure.
“Just… please do it. For me?”
Mohinder took only one step forward before he woke up.
*****************************
The next few days passed by him in a blur of sitting in the passenger side of the rental car as The Haitian drove around and around the town. The two men sat at the diner, completely silent for entire meals, or what little Mohinder could choke down. Every piece of food he ate felt like there was a thin coating of sand covering it, and he was constantly rubbing at his eyes for minutes on end during sudden bouts of anxiety.
“Are you all right?” The Haitian asked him once, before they went to their separate beds.
“No,” Mohinder replied curtly, and he slammed the door behind him.
Each night, Mohinder woke up in the desert, and he could never see far beyond his immediate surroundings. He walked forward, backward, and sideways, but no matter which direction or how he moved, he always ended up at the cave.
Molly was always there. She never verbally greeted him - instead, she kept repeating in her sing-song voice: “Go into the cave, Mohinder!” She smiled brightly at him, and once, she even waved.
Mohinder would make it one or two steps, but never more; then, he’d instantly wake up with soaked sheets snarled around his legs while he lay blinking in his small motel bed.
He’d settle back down against his pillow, and wait for the sun to rise.
*****************************
Should I tell him? he wondered on the eighth day, staring down into his cup of black coffee. It felt like he was gazing into the mouth of the cave that haunted him so, but at least he didn’t feel like spitting out the liquid because it felt gritty and harsh on his tongue.
The Haitian was keeping his gaze averted from Mohinder as he ate, but Mohinder knew what he was beginning to look like these days. His hair was even more disheveled than usual, and he had taken note of the circles under his eyes.
He scratched at his lashes, and The Haitian let his fork fall down onto his plate with a deafening CLINK. Mohinder didn’t even wince at the sound; he was too busy trying to look away from The Haitian’s piercing, watchful stare.
“You need to eat,” he said with a touch of sternness in his voice. “You need to get more sleep as well. I know this is rude of me to say, but I must tell you that you also need to take a shower.”
“I’ll sleep after we’ve found Sylar,” Mohinder muttered, forcing his hand to pull away from his face, to stop worrying at his eye. His fingers were shaking, and he knew that The Haitian could see him tremble.
“It is possible that he has left already. It is possible - ” The Haitian hesitated, just for a moment before continuing, “that you are lying to me about your communications with the Walker girl.”
Mohinder sucked at his teeth in annoyance. The truth was that he hadn’t contacted Molly since the second night she’d appeared in his dreams. He wasn’t afraid to speak to her, he just felt as though Sylar would still be around, that the man still might not know of his presence.
Or at least, that was what he told himself.
“You need to tell me if you are up for this mission, Doctor,” The Haitian lowered his voice as he spoke. “I will contact Bishop later today, and-”
“No!” Mohinder hissed. He finally made eye contact with The Haitian, and he saw something like worry flit across the tall man’s features. “I can handle this. I just - I just need a little time to rest, that’s all.”
“Would you like to go back to the motel while I search around some more?”
Mohinder nodded as he pushed away his mug. The black liquid inside swirled around, and it came dangerously close to spilling over the ceramic edges.
*****************************
No sooner after he had collapsed onto the mattress, the geneticist dove back into a state of murky unconsciousness.
The same thing happened, once again. He rose up from the ground, dusting himself off, and ambled off in a completely random direction. Though his body constantly felt weighed down during his waking hours, in his dreams, he felt as light and fit as he had when he was ten years younger. He swiftly made his way across the dunes, blocking the occasional burst of wind by using his hand as a makeshift visor.
When he arrived at the cave with its round, black mouth gaping invitingly at him, he let his arm fall back to rest at his side. Molly was nowhere to be seen; instead, a young boy stood directly in between Mohinder and the entrance.
“Where’s Molly?” Mohinder asked him, his voice coming out strained and muffled.
Sanjog shook his head solemnly.
“You shouldn’t go inside,” he said in a warning tone.
Mohinder took one step toward the boy, willing himself to concentrate on the cave.
“Please,” Sanjog implored simply. “Please, don’t.”
One more step.
Then a third.
For the first time, Mohinder had made it all the way to standing just outside of the utter darkness. His jacket flapped in the wind; the bottom corner grazed Sanjog’s arm just slightly.
Suresh finally looked away from the abyss before himself, bending his neck down to match Sanjog’s worried gaze.
“She’s in there, isn’t she?” the man asked of the boy. “With Sylar.”
Sanjog only stared in response at first. Then, he opened his mouth.
“Whatever you do, don’t go inside.”
Mohinder’s body jerked. His mind snapped back to reality directly afterward. Outside, the sun was already beginning to set, and when it vanished from sight, someone began to knock on the door.
*****************************
After the Haitian explained where he’d been, Mohinder dodged past him to stride down the empty hallway.
“We should wait until morning,” the man called out. Mohinder ignored him. He skipped every other step on the stairs going down - the new burst of energy he was feeling pushed away any doubts or worries he felt otherwise. Even when he felt too much vertigo and wondered if he would fall flat on his face, he jumped down the last four steps like he did when he was a child.
His partner caught up with him at the car, and they both wordlessly got inside. Mohinder drove this time, following the Haitian’s precise directions. He ignored the one inquiry made to him: how he was feeling.
They made it to the highway just outside of town. When Mohinder pressed down on the brakes, the skidding tires kicked up a small cloud of dust. Mohinder turned off the ignition, and watched the high beams flicker off before he threw open his door.
He heard the steps of the Haitian behind him as he trudged away from the vehicle. Together, the men walked in complete and utter silence. Mohinder barely registered the fact that his shoes seemed to be sinking a little further into the ground than before ; he felt even more weightless and resolute than he did in his dreams. He also felt not so much like he was walking, but as though he was being pulled forward by an invisible force - like a string had been tied around his waist and someone was jerking on it. He was merely following along.
After what seemed like an hour, Mohinder reached up one hand to wipe the line of sweat that had formed across his hairline. He pushed his dark curls back, exhaling sharply as he came to a halt.
The cave in his dreams loomed over him. It was smaller than he had imagined; the opening seemed only large enough for a young adult to crouch down as a means of getting in.
“He must be inside,” The Haitian said from behind him. “There would be no other reason for him to come all this way.”
“You’re sure you saw him go in this direction?” It was more of a statement than a question, but Mohinder wanted to make absolute certain of his partner’s account.
There was a brief moment of silence before he received confirmation.
Mohinder moved to take a step toward the cavern when he felt a tight grip clamp down on his shoulder. He wouldn’t - couldn’t - look back; his eyes were irrevocably drawn to the mouth of the cave. He felt the way he did when he was staring down into a microscope. He both felt and heard his own heartbeat, the speed and intensity of which was rising with every passing moment.
Still, he heard the deep voice resonating behind him, overpowering the pounding noise in his ears: “I don’t think you should go in there. Not tonight. I’ll go first.”
Mohinder wordlessly took another step forward. Then another. And another. He closed the distance between himself and the cave entrance so quickly that the Haitian’s hand slipped off from his shoulder, and in an instant, Mohinder squeezed himself inside the hole, bending down to crawl on his hands and knees.
Darkness surrounded him, it was ten times darker than it had been outside. While Mohinder’s vision had adjusted enough for him to make out the first few feet in front of him as he had trekked across the desert, he couldn’t even see his own hands in front of him here. He had heard the Haitian shouting after him when he’d breached the dank opening, but the voice was barely audible, now that he was several yards inside the cave. The walls pressed in on him as he wormed his way forward on his belly, but Mohinder pushed on, refusing to panic as dirt fell from above and rocks clattered and bounced onto his back.
Then, without any warning, Mohinder suddenly felt the pressure of the earth recede from his sides and back, and a cool breeze rushed in through his airway. He inhaled deeply, grateful for the fresh oxygen, and when he exhaled with a sigh -
“I was beginning to think that you’d never come.”
A disembodied voice, emanating from all around the professor. It sounded like…
“Sylar?” he whispered.
The voice laughed. It started out deep, then slowly transformed into the high and lilting tone belonging to a girl or young boy.
"Molly?" he asked, though he already knew that the voice did not belong to his adopted daughter.
There was no response, and when the laughing finally stopped, Mohinder, with his legs still trapped in the tunnel through which he’d crawled, felt the blood in his veins instantly turn to ice.
Sanjog had been right.
Mohinder saw a trail of sparks ignite to his left, bringing light to the inside of the cave.
He saw the source of the voice.
He opened his mouth to scream, but no sound would ever come out.
*****************************
“No.
“Yes.
“… I could not stop him. He was too fast for me. I tried to go in after him, but the opening is too small - Of course I waited for him. He was there for hours.”
The Haitian related his tale in short, expressionless sentences. How he’d waited until the sun rose up, alternating between attempting to force himself inside the entrance and calling after Suresh. How Mohinder’s body had been shoved out when the light finally reached the cavern; his eyes had been gouged out and the holes filled with sand, the blood on his thumbs had long since dried, and his skin was now so much more pale and parched to the touch. He’d looked as though he’d been sucked dry, as if all of his bodily fluids had been cleaned out.
After the Haitian explained that he’d dragged the corpse - or rather, shell of a corpse - back to the car, he was silent for a long, long time. He stood absolutely still, letting the wind ruffle his shirt, and then, after what seemed like an eternity, he said in a much quieter voice:
“Yes. I will.”
He promptly hung up the phone; the noise reverberated all the way to the other side of the motel into another silent man's eardrums.
Sylar leaned his back against the wall, letting the Haitian’s words finally sink in. His fingers curled into his palm. Nails dug into taut skin, and still he didn’t flinch when they began to draw blood.
He turned to leave when he heard the engine rumbling from the man’s car. It pulled out of the parking lot, and rolled away down the empty street.
Sylar broke into Mohinder’s room five minutes later, his sheets freshly pressed and his suitcase pushed back against the wall.
The man who was dressed in black lay down on the bed, and resolutely, he closed his eyes, breathing softly in and out until he entered the first stage of slumber, then the next, until he found himself blinking in the dark, windy desert.
Mohinder stood before him, looking amused as he stood confidently on the sand. Sylar curled his lips back to reveal his clenched teeth.
“Lead the way,” he said quietly, and after delivering a curt nod with a grin, Mohinder began to do so.