Primatech 815 - Ch. 17
Title: Primatech 815
Author: starrdust411
Fandom: Heroes (Crossover with Lost)
Characters: Ando, Bennet, Claire, Claude, Hiro, Isaac, Peter, Matt, Micah, Mohinder, Niki, Simone, Sylar (more to come)
Rating: R
Summary: A plane crash unites a group of strangers.
Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes or Lost.
Warnings: AU, Violence, Action/Adventure, Drug use, Het, Slash, Crossover/Fusion
Previous Chapters
Chapter 17
"Peter. We've got a problem."
The young nurse frowned as he gazed up at Matt's worried face. Peter had a feeling he already knew what the police officer was going to say, so he got up and headed towards the jungle before Matt could even start. "He disappeared again?" Peter whispered once they were far enough away from anyone at the caves who might over hear them.
Matt sighed, rubbing the back of his head wearily. "I dunno where he is!" he grumbled as if Peter had never spoken. "That guy just won't stay in one spot."
The nurse nodded thoughtfully, quickening his steps as Matt spoke. He hadn't expected that watching Sylar would be so difficult. Mohinder had done next to nothing to keep the serial killer under control, yet with the geneticist gone, the other man seemed to take every opportunity he could to try and get away. They couldn't take that risk. Sylar was a killer by nature. If he left their sight for even a second, he could easily pop up again and attack one of the other survivors at the caves or the beach. A part of him wished that the monster in the jungle would come and take the fugitive off their hands.
"God. How'd Mohinder do this by himself?" Peter muttered to himself.
Yet Matt heard his grumbled words anyway and his frown instantly deepened. "Well maybe that's something you should have asked him before he left," Matt said pointedly.
Peter frowned at the cop's words. "Sorry, but I was busy trying to talk him out of leaving."
"Obviously you didn't try hard enough," he grumbled.
The young man scowled, stopping in his tracks and grasping the other man's arm in his hands. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
Matt sighed, scratching his short black hair. "Listen, Peter," the cop began, a weary tone clear in his voice, "I know you're just a kid, but the fact is that you're pretty much the leader around here, and you've gotta start acting like it. If someone wants to leave, you can't just let them leave. You've gotta be firm about this, otherwise, people are just going to go off and do whatever they want and probably get themselves killed. It's already bad enough that we've got two separate camps to worry about. And with Mohinder gone, we really don't have anyone to look after the people on the beach."
Peter frowned as he took in the older man's words. Even if he didn't like the way he said it, he knew that Matt was right. Despite the fact that he had accepted his leadership position, he was doing a piss poor job of actually being in charge.
The young man stayed silent as they continued their walk toward the beach, promising himself that he was going to be more of an authority figure, starting with Sylar.
-+-+-+-
Mohinder felt a frown slip onto his features when he saw that thick black cable along the beach.
He had been wandering the shoreline for two days now and there was more than enough distance between him and the other survivors. As much as he hated himself for leaving, he knew it was for the best. With him gone, Sylar might actually start to behave himself. The serial killer had told Mohinder before that he only killed for a reason and Mohinder was slowly starting to realize that, here on the island, he was the man's reason for his violent behavior. Sylar had killed the polar bear for him, he'd beaten Peter for him, and in his own sick, twisted mind, Sylar had probably convinced himself that smashing the antenna as for Mohinder’s benefit.
Now that he was gone, the other survivors could go about their lives without worrying that Sylar would attack one of them just to please Mohinder. And with Sylar no longer there to distract him, Mohinder felt confident he'd be able to come up with another plan for triangulating the Spanish signal he had heard. Seeing the cable was just a confirmation in his mind.
He approached the thick, rope like form cautiously, noting that there was a small piece of the interior exposed, most likely due to being worn out over time. He picked the cable up in his hands and wasn't surprised to find it was quite heavy. What did shock him was the fact that it seemed to go into the ocean. Well, he couldn't exactly breathe underwater, so that ruled out following that end of the line. With a sharp tug, he lifted the other end and saw that it led well into the jungle.
Well, it looked like he was finally going to be able to find the source of the Spanish signal. With that thought in his mind, he used the cable to lead him to its source.
-+-+-+-
It wasn't hard for the two men to find Sylar. Peter knew right away just where to look for him. They found the serial killer at the beach, hunched over with his back facing them as he looked through Mohinder's bags.
"Gabriel," Peter barked, careful to use the fugitive's real name in case anyone was listening to them. "What are you doing here? You're supposed to stay at the caves."
If Sylar heard him, he didn't show it. The pale man just continued rummaging through the bags intent on finding what he was searching for.
Peter glanced to his side and saw Matt staring back at him, his eyes urging the younger man to try again. "Sylar," Peter began, hoping that the killer's alias would produce an actual reaction from him.
"He left his glasses," he said simply, not bothering to turn around and face the two men.
Peter blinked at the fugitive's words. He had to wonder whether Sylar was speaking to him or just muttering to himself. "What?"
"He left his glasses. And most of his clothes… So much stuff. Why would he leave all this behind?"
The nurse frowned and turned back towards Matt only to find that the cop looked just as lost as he did. Peter sighed, running a hand through his long brown hair, noting that it had grown a few inches since they had landed, and walked around Sylar so that he was now standing in front of him. The fugitive still didn't react. His whole body was focused on his task and Peter was starting to realize that Sylar wasn't really looking for anything. He was just sorting the clothes and surveying what Mohinder had taken and what he'd left behind.
It was strange, but the nurse actually found himself feeling sorry for the other man. He knew that Sylar was a serial killer and the reason Mohinder was gone, but he could also see that he was taking the Indian's departure harder than anyone else. It was more than a little obvious that he was starting to miss him.
"He left it because he knew he wouldn't need it," he assured him. "Come on. Let's get back to the caves."
Sylar's hands stilled as he turned to look up at Peter, his dark eyes colder than anything the nurse had ever seen. "I'm not going back to the caves," he spat, his tone thick with disgust as he clutched Mohinder's suitcase protectively. "I'm going to look for him."
"What?" Matt cut in, taking a few steps closer to Sylar's side. "No way. You're staying right were Peter and I can see you."
"Somebody has to go after him," he snapped, getting to his feet quickly so that he could tower over the two smaller men. "It's been two days. Two days! Something could have happened to him."
"Mohinder's a full grown man," Matt pointed out, crossing his arms over his chest defensively. "He can take care of himself."
"Bullshit!" Sylar spat. "Do you know what he does for a living? He's a college professor! Of genetics. He can't take care of himself! He needs me."
Peter shivered at the serial killer's last comment. He was starting to understand why Mohinder was no longer able to be around Sylar.
The nurse was barely able to get back to his feet before Sylar started towards the beach. Fortunately, Matt was able to grab the pale man's shoulder, stopping him just long enough for Peter to stand up and get to his other side.
"You're not going anywhere," Matt said, his voice low and dangerous.
"Don't make a scene Sylar," Peter warned, but his words came out as soft pleas instead of forceful commands.
"Or what?" the killer snapped, his eyes tearing into Peter.
"Or we'll have to cuff you again," Matt said, finality clear in his words.
Sylar scowled, his gaze going back and forth between Peter and Matt, weighing his options carefully. Sylar had height and size on Peter and had beaten him senseless once before, but Matt had his cop training and experience on his side. If push came to shove, the two men could easily take Sylar down. It was clear that the same thought had crossed the murderer's mind as he gritted his teeth, grabbed Mohinder's bags, and headed towards the caves.
They had dodged that bullet, but Peter knew it was only a matter of time before Sylar tried to take off again.
-+-+-+-
An hour had passed, maybe more and the cable still seemed to have no end to it. Mohinder had stopped holding it in his hands less than a mile back and he now found himself in a dense part of the jungle, the trees creating a perfect shield from the sun. A part of him wanted to take a break, just sit back and rest for a few minutes before restarting his quest, but the inquisitive part of his mind would not entertain such thoughts. He had to keep going. If he found the Spanish signal, then he could cut it off and finally send out one of his own. Mohinder knew that that thought alone would be more than enough to drive him onward the rest of the day if not longer.
Yet, he did find himself coming to a sudden stop when he saw something waiting in the grass below him. It was thin and shiny and looked like...
Tripwire? he thought curiously. The eight year old Spanish signal instantly came into his mind as he studied the wire. The woman on the recording had mentioned that there had been other people with her. This must have been a trap set up by that unfortunate group to trap boar. Pity seized his heart at the thought of that doomed group. He had to wonder what had happened to them. What had been the cause of their demise?
Mohinder shook those thoughts out of his mind as he easily side stepped the wire. He had more important things to worry about. Yet immediately after he had moved he found himself freezing once again when his ears noticed a strange sound. The geneticist barely had time to process the noise before he suddenly felt something grab his ankles and lift him feet first off the ground and into the air. He gasped, swinging his arms wildly as the world around him was turned upside down.
The momentum caused the rope that had caught him to keep swinging and before Mohinder could do anything to stop it, he found himself swinging towards a series of pointed sticks bundled together and attached to a nearby tree. He howled in pain as he made contact with the bundle causing one of the sticks to embed itself into his leg.
+-+-+-+
Mohinder sighed as he adjusted his tie for what felt like the hundredth time that day. In spite of his mother's encouragement, he still felt he did not look presentable. He had shaved, combed his hair, bought new cologne, shined his shoes, and put on his finest suit. Yet his stomach was still tying itself into nervous knots as he studied his reflection with a critical eye. His dress shirt looked wrinkled, his hair was sticking out in odd clumps, and his tie would not stay centered.
"Here," his mother said, shooing Mohinder's nervous hands away from his tie. "Use your father's tie clip. It will keep it in place."
"I don't want to do this," Mohinder blurted out as he watched his mother slide the golden clip onto his navy blue tie, centering it perfectly with her skilled fingers. "What if she doesn't like me? What if we don't like each other?"
"Nonsense, you'll get on just fine," his mother assured him, brushing a careful hand through his hair. "You liked each other as children."
"That was years ago," he pointed out, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other.
Mohinder had always been a very opinionated person. He knew instantly what he liked and what he did not like. Yet when it came to this he was completely at a loss. On the one hand, it felt wrong. He had moved around a great deal in his life -- Chennai, London, Chicago, New York -- and in all the western countries he had visited, they all told him that this sort of thing wasn’t right. His friends had all reacted in various levels of shock when the topic of an arranged marriage was brought up. They would shake their heads and frown in disgust at the idea of someone planning such an important part of your life out for you and in that sense, he had to agree with them. He was his own person, capable of making his own choices and the idea of his parents sitting around and discussing with strangers what sort of woman he should spend the rest of his days with seemed wrong.
Yet, it was a tradition. His parents and his grandparents had all met this way and their marriages had turned out just fine. In fact, his mother had told him quite confidently that she could not have picked a better match for herself than his father. What's more, these marriages were not put together at random. His mother had assured Mohinder that there was much thought and planning put into picking out a perfect mate. Everything about their lives had been taken into account; education, religion, diet, even their height and age had been discussed.
"And she's a geneticist, too," his father had told him eagerly. "You'll have so much to talk about."
Mohinder had cringed at his father's words and pointed out that he did not like genetics and was only in this field because Chandra had pushed him down this path.
"I paid for your schooling," Chandra had shot back. "I paid for the food you ate, the clothes you wore, and the bed you slept in! After all I have given to you, why should I not be able to tell you what career to choose?"
And perhaps that was why he was so reluctant to meet this woman, because his father had taken an important decision away from him before. Because he still felt bitter at his doctorate in genetics that should have been in engineering. Because it would make Chandra so happy to see a woman he had chosen on Mohinder's arm instead of one he actually loved.
Yet his mother's sincere smiles and concerns turned his mind. When it came right down to it Mohinder had to admit that this arrangement was convent if nothing else. After all, if he had been left to his own devices, the young Indian might never find a wife and miss his opportunity to start a family of his own.
His mother smiled up at him, kissing his cheek gently before tugging his arm and directing his hesitant gaze away from the mirror. "Come. Let's go meet your bride."
+-+-+-+
Mohinder groaned as he swung slowly between the trees, hoping against all reason that the rope trapping him in this incredibly uncomfortable and dangerous situation would snap and allow him to go free. Yet luck did not seem to be on his side today. Who ever had set this trap was most likely long gone, killed by the monster or the polar bears, and he was a two day hike away from his camp. No one knew where he was and no one would come for him.
He sighed, allowing his eyes to slip close as he recited a silent prayer to whatever deity may be watching over him. He prayed in English and in Tamil and waited impatiently for some sort of response. At that moment, he would not have been completely against the idea of having the rope snap and his neck crushed in the process. Anything was better than having all the blood in his body slowly rush to his head and his stomach quake in displeasure.
The geneticist was about to abandon all hope when the sound of a twig snapping in the distance suddenly greeted his eager ears. His eyes widened as he scanned his surroundings carefully for any movement whatsoever. At this point, he would not mind seeing Sylar as long as the other man had a knife to cut him down.
"Hello?" he called out, testing to see if there was any response. Yet the area remained silent so he tried again. "Hello?"
He fell silent when he suddenly heard the sound of something cutting into the rope. He struggled, shifting himself to try to get a glimpse behind him, but it was too late. By the time he twisted himself just enough, the rope had snapped and ground came rushing towards him before his whole world went blank.
-+-+-+-
Matt quickened his step as he passed Sylar's glowering figure. The fugitive had been in a bad mood all day, not that he could blame him. He was in a dark mood himself. On the same day that he found out Mohinder had left camp for good, Peter had pulled him aside and told him that they'd been living with a serial killer for the past ten days. Matt had been furious to say the least that he -- the sole police officer on the island -- had not been informed of the situation before hand. He didn't know what it was about him that made Peter and the others think he was so forgettable, but he was getting pretty sick of it. Just because he was a little hefty, didn't mean he was a bad cop. He could take control of this island. Yet Peter had already established himself as the leader. Matt knew that he pretty much had no choice now other than to establish himself as the law while Peter saw to all things medical and diplomatic.
The police officer frowned when he heard the audible thud of a heavy bag dropping at his feet. He turned and stared down at the bag before glancing up to look at the attractive young brunette who had put it there.
"Hey there," she said, giving him a very suggestive wink.
He gulped as he forced himself to remember the gold band that rested around his ring finger. "Hi," he sent back before nodding towards the brown suitcase at his feet. "What's this?"
"Some things we found in the jungle," Bennet put in, appearing almost out of nowhere. "Must have come from the plane."
Matt frowned, his eyes taking a quick glance towards the sky just to make sure that the moon and the stars were in fact out. "What were you guys doing in the jungle in the middle of the night?" he asked and then instantly regretted it. If Bennet was hooking up with the strange young woman then he didn't want to know about it. Although he had to admit that the man in the horn-rimmed glasses was the last person he would have thought to be on the lookout for random partners. Not that this woman wasn't attractive. Not that any of the women here weren't attractive.
"Hunting," the girl said, her dark eyes twinkling with mischief as she flashed him a shark like smile. Matt tightened his hand into a fist just so his wedding band would dig into his fingers, a clear reminder that it was there.
"Candice here has some experience," Bennet explained, flashing a condescending smile at Candice, who returned it with a knowing look of her own. "She picked up some tracks. Might be rabbit or some other rodent."
"Rodent?" Matt repeated skeptically.
"Figured people might be getting tired of boar," Candice put in, crossing her arms over her chest, but still smiling.
Matt shrugged, gathering the bags in his arm. "Well, thanks," he said, hurrying away from the unusual pair.
-+-+-+-
Micah yawned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he adjusted himself on the hard ground. When the camp had slip up, his mother's original discussion had been for them to stay at the beach in order for them to be ready in case of rescue. Yet after the cave in, Niki had been dragging the two of them back and forth between the two camps, volunteering to help fix any little problem that might arise. Of course, Micah this left with nothing to do since his mother was very protective of him and insisted that he stay in her sight at all times.
It was frustrating to say the least. He was the youngest survivor of the crash and as such, he had no one else to talk to. Claire was fairly close to his age, but she was a teenager, and as such she naturally tried to prove herself to be just as mature and grown up as the other adults so she paid no attention to him. The only other person besides his mother who bothered to pay attention to him was Hiro, but his friend Ando seemed to be just as protective of the Japanese man as Micah's mother was of him.
The child sighed, sitting up straight and looking around the camp site. Practically everyone was already fast asleep, gathered around the large fire they kept burning throughout the night for warmth. That was when the soft glint from Mr. Bennet's knife caught his eye. Bennet was always out doing something interesting and always seemed to be willing to take anyone who was willing to volunteer along with him into the jungle.
He looked over to his side and saw that Niki was already sound asleep and breathing peacefully beside him. Micah knew that if she were still awake she'd never let him go with Mr. Bennet.
"Mr. Bennet?" the child whispered, slowly crawling to his feet and stepping towards the middle aged man. "Are you going back into the jungle to hunt?"
Bennet flashed him a warm smile as he sheathed his knife back into his side. "For a little while," he said.
"Can I come with you?" he asked, eagerness clear in his tone. "I just want to learn what you do."
"Micah?"
The child jumped slightly at the sound of his mother's voice. He cringed as he turned to see that she was now wide awake and staring at him, concern clear in her bright eyes. "I was just," he began sheepishly, "I was talking to Mr. Bennet and-"
"I know what you were doing," she snapped, cutting him off quickly before he could finish his explanation. "It's not happening. Now get back to bed."
Micah pouted as he gave Bennet an apologetic look before lying down and going back to his bed.
+-+-+-+
Mohinder sighed as he pressed himself further into Mira's heat. He was in a daze, his head was swimming and Mira's long brown legs felt so good wrapped around his waist.
"Mohinder," she purred, arching herself up to press their stomachs together, enjoying the way the man above her shivered with the contact.
When he'd met Mira less than a year ago, he had been startled to say the least. He had not seen the young woman since their childhood in India. Back then, she had been nothing but wide eyes and scrawny, awkward limbs, but time had been very kind to her. She was now a full head shorter than him, but was blessed with a head full of thick black hair, elegant curves, and the most beautiful brown eyes he had ever gazed into. His body sang for her upon their meeting and she seemed to respond to him in much the same way, sending him shy smiles and secretive looks as their parents spoke and eagerly planned their futures.
Yet still, he had been nervous. A marriage based solely on lust was not a marriage at all. Fortune seemed to smile on them both as the next few dates proved that he and Mira truly were a well matched pair. They were both practicing vegetarians. They preferred books over television. They both enjoyed the thrill of teaching and helping others gain knowledge.
Since he was a child he had known he would have a wife arranged for him, but he never would have dreamed of falling in love with that woman.
"Mira," he gasped, rocking steadily into her, enjoying the way she writhed and moaned for him.
They should have been married by now. If their parents had their way, they would have been married by now, but they had their own plans. Mira had suggested they be very "American" about their arrangement.
"We are not engaged," she had told him very coyly during their first unchaperoned date. "We will be just like any other couple. Whether we should marry is up to us."
He remembered smiling broadly at her suggestion. It was at that moment that he knew he was going to fall for Mira. The fact that she had given him back some control of his life, of his future, made him feel more confident. At last he had a say in who he was, in who he would be, and who he would be with. He would marry Mira, but only because he said so.
+-+-+-+
Mohinder did not get the luxury of screaming when his body was suddenly, and literally, shocked awake. He gasped, panted, and convulsed in pain as the electrical current spread through his being. His body twitched and his mind reeled as he tried to process what was happening. His vision was still fuzzy, but from what he could tell, he was no longer outside. He was somewhere else. From the looks of things he was inside for the first time in almost two weeks and there seemed to be a lamp swinging above his head, barely illuminating the blurry space. He grunted, testing his arms and legs, only to discover that they were chained to something.
Another current was sent through him yet again, causing him to screw his eyes shut and his body to tremble in pain. He howled as his ears rang and vision blurred. It took a few minutes for him to calm himself enough to hear that someone was speaking to him. The voice was muffled and frantic and from what his addled mind could tell, it was asking him a question.
First the words were spoken in German. Then French. Then Spanish. By the time the speaker got to English, Mohinder's mind had settled enough to realize that it was a woman speaking to him.
"Where is Alejandro?"
"Please," he gasped, breathing heavily as he tried to focus on his surroundings. He could now see that he was chain and bound behind what looked like a chain linked fence. "Who are you?"
His question was answered with another shock that sent his mind scrambling. "Where is Alejandro?" the woman asked again, her voice much more forceful and anxious.
"I don't know an Alejandro!"
Mohinder could have sworn that he heard an annoyed grunt before another electrical wave was sent through his being. "Where is Alejandra!" she practically screamed and for the first time, Mohinder could detect a thick accent in her voice.
"Stop! Please!" he gasped, but the woman would not listen to him. She kept electrocuting him, until darkness swallowed him once again.
Author: starrdust411
Fandom: Heroes (Crossover with Lost)
Characters: Ando, Bennet, Claire, Claude, Hiro, Isaac, Peter, Matt, Micah, Mohinder, Niki, Simone, Sylar (more to come)
Rating: R
Summary: A plane crash unites a group of strangers.
Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes or Lost.
Warnings: AU, Violence, Action/Adventure, Drug use, Het, Slash, Crossover/Fusion
Previous Chapters
Chapter 17
"Peter. We've got a problem."
The young nurse frowned as he gazed up at Matt's worried face. Peter had a feeling he already knew what the police officer was going to say, so he got up and headed towards the jungle before Matt could even start. "He disappeared again?" Peter whispered once they were far enough away from anyone at the caves who might over hear them.
Matt sighed, rubbing the back of his head wearily. "I dunno where he is!" he grumbled as if Peter had never spoken. "That guy just won't stay in one spot."
The nurse nodded thoughtfully, quickening his steps as Matt spoke. He hadn't expected that watching Sylar would be so difficult. Mohinder had done next to nothing to keep the serial killer under control, yet with the geneticist gone, the other man seemed to take every opportunity he could to try and get away. They couldn't take that risk. Sylar was a killer by nature. If he left their sight for even a second, he could easily pop up again and attack one of the other survivors at the caves or the beach. A part of him wished that the monster in the jungle would come and take the fugitive off their hands.
"God. How'd Mohinder do this by himself?" Peter muttered to himself.
Yet Matt heard his grumbled words anyway and his frown instantly deepened. "Well maybe that's something you should have asked him before he left," Matt said pointedly.
Peter frowned at the cop's words. "Sorry, but I was busy trying to talk him out of leaving."
"Obviously you didn't try hard enough," he grumbled.
The young man scowled, stopping in his tracks and grasping the other man's arm in his hands. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
Matt sighed, scratching his short black hair. "Listen, Peter," the cop began, a weary tone clear in his voice, "I know you're just a kid, but the fact is that you're pretty much the leader around here, and you've gotta start acting like it. If someone wants to leave, you can't just let them leave. You've gotta be firm about this, otherwise, people are just going to go off and do whatever they want and probably get themselves killed. It's already bad enough that we've got two separate camps to worry about. And with Mohinder gone, we really don't have anyone to look after the people on the beach."
Peter frowned as he took in the older man's words. Even if he didn't like the way he said it, he knew that Matt was right. Despite the fact that he had accepted his leadership position, he was doing a piss poor job of actually being in charge.
The young man stayed silent as they continued their walk toward the beach, promising himself that he was going to be more of an authority figure, starting with Sylar.
-+-+-+-
Mohinder felt a frown slip onto his features when he saw that thick black cable along the beach.
He had been wandering the shoreline for two days now and there was more than enough distance between him and the other survivors. As much as he hated himself for leaving, he knew it was for the best. With him gone, Sylar might actually start to behave himself. The serial killer had told Mohinder before that he only killed for a reason and Mohinder was slowly starting to realize that, here on the island, he was the man's reason for his violent behavior. Sylar had killed the polar bear for him, he'd beaten Peter for him, and in his own sick, twisted mind, Sylar had probably convinced himself that smashing the antenna as for Mohinder’s benefit.
Now that he was gone, the other survivors could go about their lives without worrying that Sylar would attack one of them just to please Mohinder. And with Sylar no longer there to distract him, Mohinder felt confident he'd be able to come up with another plan for triangulating the Spanish signal he had heard. Seeing the cable was just a confirmation in his mind.
He approached the thick, rope like form cautiously, noting that there was a small piece of the interior exposed, most likely due to being worn out over time. He picked the cable up in his hands and wasn't surprised to find it was quite heavy. What did shock him was the fact that it seemed to go into the ocean. Well, he couldn't exactly breathe underwater, so that ruled out following that end of the line. With a sharp tug, he lifted the other end and saw that it led well into the jungle.
Well, it looked like he was finally going to be able to find the source of the Spanish signal. With that thought in his mind, he used the cable to lead him to its source.
-+-+-+-
It wasn't hard for the two men to find Sylar. Peter knew right away just where to look for him. They found the serial killer at the beach, hunched over with his back facing them as he looked through Mohinder's bags.
"Gabriel," Peter barked, careful to use the fugitive's real name in case anyone was listening to them. "What are you doing here? You're supposed to stay at the caves."
If Sylar heard him, he didn't show it. The pale man just continued rummaging through the bags intent on finding what he was searching for.
Peter glanced to his side and saw Matt staring back at him, his eyes urging the younger man to try again. "Sylar," Peter began, hoping that the killer's alias would produce an actual reaction from him.
"He left his glasses," he said simply, not bothering to turn around and face the two men.
Peter blinked at the fugitive's words. He had to wonder whether Sylar was speaking to him or just muttering to himself. "What?"
"He left his glasses. And most of his clothes… So much stuff. Why would he leave all this behind?"
The nurse frowned and turned back towards Matt only to find that the cop looked just as lost as he did. Peter sighed, running a hand through his long brown hair, noting that it had grown a few inches since they had landed, and walked around Sylar so that he was now standing in front of him. The fugitive still didn't react. His whole body was focused on his task and Peter was starting to realize that Sylar wasn't really looking for anything. He was just sorting the clothes and surveying what Mohinder had taken and what he'd left behind.
It was strange, but the nurse actually found himself feeling sorry for the other man. He knew that Sylar was a serial killer and the reason Mohinder was gone, but he could also see that he was taking the Indian's departure harder than anyone else. It was more than a little obvious that he was starting to miss him.
"He left it because he knew he wouldn't need it," he assured him. "Come on. Let's get back to the caves."
Sylar's hands stilled as he turned to look up at Peter, his dark eyes colder than anything the nurse had ever seen. "I'm not going back to the caves," he spat, his tone thick with disgust as he clutched Mohinder's suitcase protectively. "I'm going to look for him."
"What?" Matt cut in, taking a few steps closer to Sylar's side. "No way. You're staying right were Peter and I can see you."
"Somebody has to go after him," he snapped, getting to his feet quickly so that he could tower over the two smaller men. "It's been two days. Two days! Something could have happened to him."
"Mohinder's a full grown man," Matt pointed out, crossing his arms over his chest defensively. "He can take care of himself."
"Bullshit!" Sylar spat. "Do you know what he does for a living? He's a college professor! Of genetics. He can't take care of himself! He needs me."
Peter shivered at the serial killer's last comment. He was starting to understand why Mohinder was no longer able to be around Sylar.
The nurse was barely able to get back to his feet before Sylar started towards the beach. Fortunately, Matt was able to grab the pale man's shoulder, stopping him just long enough for Peter to stand up and get to his other side.
"You're not going anywhere," Matt said, his voice low and dangerous.
"Don't make a scene Sylar," Peter warned, but his words came out as soft pleas instead of forceful commands.
"Or what?" the killer snapped, his eyes tearing into Peter.
"Or we'll have to cuff you again," Matt said, finality clear in his words.
Sylar scowled, his gaze going back and forth between Peter and Matt, weighing his options carefully. Sylar had height and size on Peter and had beaten him senseless once before, but Matt had his cop training and experience on his side. If push came to shove, the two men could easily take Sylar down. It was clear that the same thought had crossed the murderer's mind as he gritted his teeth, grabbed Mohinder's bags, and headed towards the caves.
They had dodged that bullet, but Peter knew it was only a matter of time before Sylar tried to take off again.
-+-+-+-
An hour had passed, maybe more and the cable still seemed to have no end to it. Mohinder had stopped holding it in his hands less than a mile back and he now found himself in a dense part of the jungle, the trees creating a perfect shield from the sun. A part of him wanted to take a break, just sit back and rest for a few minutes before restarting his quest, but the inquisitive part of his mind would not entertain such thoughts. He had to keep going. If he found the Spanish signal, then he could cut it off and finally send out one of his own. Mohinder knew that that thought alone would be more than enough to drive him onward the rest of the day if not longer.
Yet, he did find himself coming to a sudden stop when he saw something waiting in the grass below him. It was thin and shiny and looked like...
Tripwire? he thought curiously. The eight year old Spanish signal instantly came into his mind as he studied the wire. The woman on the recording had mentioned that there had been other people with her. This must have been a trap set up by that unfortunate group to trap boar. Pity seized his heart at the thought of that doomed group. He had to wonder what had happened to them. What had been the cause of their demise?
Mohinder shook those thoughts out of his mind as he easily side stepped the wire. He had more important things to worry about. Yet immediately after he had moved he found himself freezing once again when his ears noticed a strange sound. The geneticist barely had time to process the noise before he suddenly felt something grab his ankles and lift him feet first off the ground and into the air. He gasped, swinging his arms wildly as the world around him was turned upside down.
The momentum caused the rope that had caught him to keep swinging and before Mohinder could do anything to stop it, he found himself swinging towards a series of pointed sticks bundled together and attached to a nearby tree. He howled in pain as he made contact with the bundle causing one of the sticks to embed itself into his leg.
+-+-+-+
Mohinder sighed as he adjusted his tie for what felt like the hundredth time that day. In spite of his mother's encouragement, he still felt he did not look presentable. He had shaved, combed his hair, bought new cologne, shined his shoes, and put on his finest suit. Yet his stomach was still tying itself into nervous knots as he studied his reflection with a critical eye. His dress shirt looked wrinkled, his hair was sticking out in odd clumps, and his tie would not stay centered.
"Here," his mother said, shooing Mohinder's nervous hands away from his tie. "Use your father's tie clip. It will keep it in place."
"I don't want to do this," Mohinder blurted out as he watched his mother slide the golden clip onto his navy blue tie, centering it perfectly with her skilled fingers. "What if she doesn't like me? What if we don't like each other?"
"Nonsense, you'll get on just fine," his mother assured him, brushing a careful hand through his hair. "You liked each other as children."
"That was years ago," he pointed out, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other.
Mohinder had always been a very opinionated person. He knew instantly what he liked and what he did not like. Yet when it came to this he was completely at a loss. On the one hand, it felt wrong. He had moved around a great deal in his life -- Chennai, London, Chicago, New York -- and in all the western countries he had visited, they all told him that this sort of thing wasn’t right. His friends had all reacted in various levels of shock when the topic of an arranged marriage was brought up. They would shake their heads and frown in disgust at the idea of someone planning such an important part of your life out for you and in that sense, he had to agree with them. He was his own person, capable of making his own choices and the idea of his parents sitting around and discussing with strangers what sort of woman he should spend the rest of his days with seemed wrong.
Yet, it was a tradition. His parents and his grandparents had all met this way and their marriages had turned out just fine. In fact, his mother had told him quite confidently that she could not have picked a better match for herself than his father. What's more, these marriages were not put together at random. His mother had assured Mohinder that there was much thought and planning put into picking out a perfect mate. Everything about their lives had been taken into account; education, religion, diet, even their height and age had been discussed.
"And she's a geneticist, too," his father had told him eagerly. "You'll have so much to talk about."
Mohinder had cringed at his father's words and pointed out that he did not like genetics and was only in this field because Chandra had pushed him down this path.
"I paid for your schooling," Chandra had shot back. "I paid for the food you ate, the clothes you wore, and the bed you slept in! After all I have given to you, why should I not be able to tell you what career to choose?"
And perhaps that was why he was so reluctant to meet this woman, because his father had taken an important decision away from him before. Because he still felt bitter at his doctorate in genetics that should have been in engineering. Because it would make Chandra so happy to see a woman he had chosen on Mohinder's arm instead of one he actually loved.
Yet his mother's sincere smiles and concerns turned his mind. When it came right down to it Mohinder had to admit that this arrangement was convent if nothing else. After all, if he had been left to his own devices, the young Indian might never find a wife and miss his opportunity to start a family of his own.
His mother smiled up at him, kissing his cheek gently before tugging his arm and directing his hesitant gaze away from the mirror. "Come. Let's go meet your bride."
+-+-+-+
Mohinder groaned as he swung slowly between the trees, hoping against all reason that the rope trapping him in this incredibly uncomfortable and dangerous situation would snap and allow him to go free. Yet luck did not seem to be on his side today. Who ever had set this trap was most likely long gone, killed by the monster or the polar bears, and he was a two day hike away from his camp. No one knew where he was and no one would come for him.
He sighed, allowing his eyes to slip close as he recited a silent prayer to whatever deity may be watching over him. He prayed in English and in Tamil and waited impatiently for some sort of response. At that moment, he would not have been completely against the idea of having the rope snap and his neck crushed in the process. Anything was better than having all the blood in his body slowly rush to his head and his stomach quake in displeasure.
The geneticist was about to abandon all hope when the sound of a twig snapping in the distance suddenly greeted his eager ears. His eyes widened as he scanned his surroundings carefully for any movement whatsoever. At this point, he would not mind seeing Sylar as long as the other man had a knife to cut him down.
"Hello?" he called out, testing to see if there was any response. Yet the area remained silent so he tried again. "Hello?"
He fell silent when he suddenly heard the sound of something cutting into the rope. He struggled, shifting himself to try to get a glimpse behind him, but it was too late. By the time he twisted himself just enough, the rope had snapped and ground came rushing towards him before his whole world went blank.
-+-+-+-
Matt quickened his step as he passed Sylar's glowering figure. The fugitive had been in a bad mood all day, not that he could blame him. He was in a dark mood himself. On the same day that he found out Mohinder had left camp for good, Peter had pulled him aside and told him that they'd been living with a serial killer for the past ten days. Matt had been furious to say the least that he -- the sole police officer on the island -- had not been informed of the situation before hand. He didn't know what it was about him that made Peter and the others think he was so forgettable, but he was getting pretty sick of it. Just because he was a little hefty, didn't mean he was a bad cop. He could take control of this island. Yet Peter had already established himself as the leader. Matt knew that he pretty much had no choice now other than to establish himself as the law while Peter saw to all things medical and diplomatic.
The police officer frowned when he heard the audible thud of a heavy bag dropping at his feet. He turned and stared down at the bag before glancing up to look at the attractive young brunette who had put it there.
"Hey there," she said, giving him a very suggestive wink.
He gulped as he forced himself to remember the gold band that rested around his ring finger. "Hi," he sent back before nodding towards the brown suitcase at his feet. "What's this?"
"Some things we found in the jungle," Bennet put in, appearing almost out of nowhere. "Must have come from the plane."
Matt frowned, his eyes taking a quick glance towards the sky just to make sure that the moon and the stars were in fact out. "What were you guys doing in the jungle in the middle of the night?" he asked and then instantly regretted it. If Bennet was hooking up with the strange young woman then he didn't want to know about it. Although he had to admit that the man in the horn-rimmed glasses was the last person he would have thought to be on the lookout for random partners. Not that this woman wasn't attractive. Not that any of the women here weren't attractive.
"Hunting," the girl said, her dark eyes twinkling with mischief as she flashed him a shark like smile. Matt tightened his hand into a fist just so his wedding band would dig into his fingers, a clear reminder that it was there.
"Candice here has some experience," Bennet explained, flashing a condescending smile at Candice, who returned it with a knowing look of her own. "She picked up some tracks. Might be rabbit or some other rodent."
"Rodent?" Matt repeated skeptically.
"Figured people might be getting tired of boar," Candice put in, crossing her arms over her chest, but still smiling.
Matt shrugged, gathering the bags in his arm. "Well, thanks," he said, hurrying away from the unusual pair.
-+-+-+-
Micah yawned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he adjusted himself on the hard ground. When the camp had slip up, his mother's original discussion had been for them to stay at the beach in order for them to be ready in case of rescue. Yet after the cave in, Niki had been dragging the two of them back and forth between the two camps, volunteering to help fix any little problem that might arise. Of course, Micah this left with nothing to do since his mother was very protective of him and insisted that he stay in her sight at all times.
It was frustrating to say the least. He was the youngest survivor of the crash and as such, he had no one else to talk to. Claire was fairly close to his age, but she was a teenager, and as such she naturally tried to prove herself to be just as mature and grown up as the other adults so she paid no attention to him. The only other person besides his mother who bothered to pay attention to him was Hiro, but his friend Ando seemed to be just as protective of the Japanese man as Micah's mother was of him.
The child sighed, sitting up straight and looking around the camp site. Practically everyone was already fast asleep, gathered around the large fire they kept burning throughout the night for warmth. That was when the soft glint from Mr. Bennet's knife caught his eye. Bennet was always out doing something interesting and always seemed to be willing to take anyone who was willing to volunteer along with him into the jungle.
He looked over to his side and saw that Niki was already sound asleep and breathing peacefully beside him. Micah knew that if she were still awake she'd never let him go with Mr. Bennet.
"Mr. Bennet?" the child whispered, slowly crawling to his feet and stepping towards the middle aged man. "Are you going back into the jungle to hunt?"
Bennet flashed him a warm smile as he sheathed his knife back into his side. "For a little while," he said.
"Can I come with you?" he asked, eagerness clear in his tone. "I just want to learn what you do."
"Micah?"
The child jumped slightly at the sound of his mother's voice. He cringed as he turned to see that she was now wide awake and staring at him, concern clear in her bright eyes. "I was just," he began sheepishly, "I was talking to Mr. Bennet and-"
"I know what you were doing," she snapped, cutting him off quickly before he could finish his explanation. "It's not happening. Now get back to bed."
Micah pouted as he gave Bennet an apologetic look before lying down and going back to his bed.
+-+-+-+
Mohinder sighed as he pressed himself further into Mira's heat. He was in a daze, his head was swimming and Mira's long brown legs felt so good wrapped around his waist.
"Mohinder," she purred, arching herself up to press their stomachs together, enjoying the way the man above her shivered with the contact.
When he'd met Mira less than a year ago, he had been startled to say the least. He had not seen the young woman since their childhood in India. Back then, she had been nothing but wide eyes and scrawny, awkward limbs, but time had been very kind to her. She was now a full head shorter than him, but was blessed with a head full of thick black hair, elegant curves, and the most beautiful brown eyes he had ever gazed into. His body sang for her upon their meeting and she seemed to respond to him in much the same way, sending him shy smiles and secretive looks as their parents spoke and eagerly planned their futures.
Yet still, he had been nervous. A marriage based solely on lust was not a marriage at all. Fortune seemed to smile on them both as the next few dates proved that he and Mira truly were a well matched pair. They were both practicing vegetarians. They preferred books over television. They both enjoyed the thrill of teaching and helping others gain knowledge.
Since he was a child he had known he would have a wife arranged for him, but he never would have dreamed of falling in love with that woman.
"Mira," he gasped, rocking steadily into her, enjoying the way she writhed and moaned for him.
They should have been married by now. If their parents had their way, they would have been married by now, but they had their own plans. Mira had suggested they be very "American" about their arrangement.
"We are not engaged," she had told him very coyly during their first unchaperoned date. "We will be just like any other couple. Whether we should marry is up to us."
He remembered smiling broadly at her suggestion. It was at that moment that he knew he was going to fall for Mira. The fact that she had given him back some control of his life, of his future, made him feel more confident. At last he had a say in who he was, in who he would be, and who he would be with. He would marry Mira, but only because he said so.
+-+-+-+
Mohinder did not get the luxury of screaming when his body was suddenly, and literally, shocked awake. He gasped, panted, and convulsed in pain as the electrical current spread through his being. His body twitched and his mind reeled as he tried to process what was happening. His vision was still fuzzy, but from what he could tell, he was no longer outside. He was somewhere else. From the looks of things he was inside for the first time in almost two weeks and there seemed to be a lamp swinging above his head, barely illuminating the blurry space. He grunted, testing his arms and legs, only to discover that they were chained to something.
Another current was sent through him yet again, causing him to screw his eyes shut and his body to tremble in pain. He howled as his ears rang and vision blurred. It took a few minutes for him to calm himself enough to hear that someone was speaking to him. The voice was muffled and frantic and from what his addled mind could tell, it was asking him a question.
First the words were spoken in German. Then French. Then Spanish. By the time the speaker got to English, Mohinder's mind had settled enough to realize that it was a woman speaking to him.
"Where is Alejandro?"
"Please," he gasped, breathing heavily as he tried to focus on his surroundings. He could now see that he was chain and bound behind what looked like a chain linked fence. "Who are you?"
His question was answered with another shock that sent his mind scrambling. "Where is Alejandro?" the woman asked again, her voice much more forceful and anxious.
"I don't know an Alejandro!"
Mohinder could have sworn that he heard an annoyed grunt before another electrical wave was sent through his being. "Where is Alejandra!" she practically screamed and for the first time, Mohinder could detect a thick accent in her voice.
"Stop! Please!" he gasped, but the woman would not listen to him. She kept electrocuting him, until darkness swallowed him once again.