Once inside, Sylar mopped his own face of dried blood and set about making tea. He'd never stayed in this lavish winter home, but he was familiar enough with Angela's kitchen by now. He found everything easily enough, and soon had the kettle singing and four mugs set waiting.
"Did you have to bring him?" Claire murmured privately to Peter, while the Intuitive's back was turned. She was sure he could still hear her, would probably hear her if she'd been in the basement and him in the attic, but she didn't care. After what he'd done to Jackie and all the time he'd spent stalking her, being courteous with him wasn't a major priority.
Peter could certainly feel Sylar's anger rolling through the room, but he was trying to ignore it. One of them had to keep a clear head. "Yeah," he said to Claire, not trying to be quiet about it. "He's good at this." He gave her a tight smile and then took off his jacket, wrapping it around her shoulders since she was shivering. "Let's go sit by the fire in the living room okay? All of us." Tea by the fire sounded nice.
Upstairs, Mohinder heard their plans of tea and fire. He missed tea. Sure, he could still drink it, but it didn't do much for him in terms of taste. Nothing was as savory as blood. Disgusted with himself, he cleaned his blood-and-dirt caked skin in the bathroom and then put on fresh clothes; another pair of jeans and a white button-up. Mohinder headed downstairs with his briefcase of notes and took a seat in one of the armchairs by the fire. Ahhhh, warmth.
He had gotten used to things being mostly okay with Peter. Angela accepted him more than warmly, too. Sometimes her affection bordered on the inappropriate. To find himself reminded again that he was generally unwanted and broken didn't help his temper at all.
He'd gotten better at reigning himself in again. Once upon a time he'd been so very good at it, that no one thought he was anything but the sweetest, most insignificant of men. Handing out the tea cups, he felt that same feeling of being ready to crawl out of his own skin, the way he had, back then. This was a complete disaster.
Standing back to the opposite side of the fire, he asked simply, "How close are you to finding the cure?"
Mohinder set his tea aside. He didn't want to tease himself with it. "Not close at all," he said simply. "And having you two here hovering around me isn't going to help one bit." He wanted them to leave, for several reasons. Sylar tended to cloud his better judgment and make him feel things that he didn't want to feel. "Claire is safe. She's here willingly. I'm not killing people."
Peter settled next to Claire on the couch, watching Mohinder. Goddamn he looked creepy in the light of the fire, especially when its licking flames caught his eyes. "Come on, this is right up Sylar's alley. He's good at figuring stuff out. Let him help."
"If he wanted to help he should have stayed away!" Mohinder snarled dangerously. The virus had given him a short temper.
The Intuitive basked in the heat of that anger, rolling over him. Being shunned stung, but even if the doctor was wroth with him, as long as he was thinking of Sylar, it pleased him. Knowing he still had some sort of effect, could rouse such passion from him.
"You're not killing anyone, but you're holding Claire prisoner, here. Why couldn't you stay in Santa Cruz? She couldn't help you and go to school?"
His teeth clenched tightly together and he leveled his glare on Sylar. "I can't be around others. I can't risk spreading the virus. We're alone here, and I can't infect her. She came when I asked her to." There had been some threats involved but he was hoping Sylar didn't know that. "I thought you'd just love this, Sylar. Hm? I'm getting rid of the weaker species for you. I'm failing at being a good person. I'm more of a monster than you are." His eyes glassed over when he said it, voice quivering. Why wasn't Sylar mocking him like he expected?? That would make everything so much easier.
Peter began to feel uncomfortable that he and Claire had to watch this. The emotional energy between these two was....whew. He shifted in his seat and kept his mouth shut.
Sylar smirked, half a chuckle puffing out through his nose at the idea of Doctor Suresh being more a monster than himself. "Cold skin and bright eyes do not a demon make. And I'm not interested in offing the human race. It's actually damned inconvenient. Maybe Claire can't be infected, but the rest of the Evolved are succumbing just as easily as normal human beings."
Nevermind that Sylar wasn't supposed to be interested in power-hunting these days. Peter tended to frown on such things.
And frown, he did, because this conversation wasn't going to a place to Peter liked. "We're not leaving," he said. "End of discussion." Though maybe he could take Claire back to college where she belonged. Nobody was leaving tonight, at least.
Mohinder looked at the fire and ran a hand up his arm thoughtfully. Having Sylar say something so selfish was comforting in an odd way.
He pulled the briefcase up onto his lap and opened it, quietly going through his own notes. Most of them didn't make sense; mindless scribbles of theories and ideas that he'd done when blood-crazed. In fact, most of the papers were adorned with smears of rodent blood or the occasional speck of human DNA, but he paid it no mind. It meant nothing to him dried up and crisped on his papers, only fresh and hot.
"It's true though, isn't it? It started with you," Sylar took a sip of his tea, waiting for the answer. He had a sneaking suspicion he knew how, and why. A disease that went in and changed the infected person's genetic code. A virus that gave those who carried it speed, and strength, and heightened senses. Too bad the side-effects were so damned nasty.
Mohinder paused in his shuffling and calmly set the briefcase aside, holding some papers in his lap. "Yes. I did this."
Peter frowned at his old friend, listening.
"I wasn't trying to, though," Mohinder continued. "I just....wanted to find a way to give myself an ability. So that I could protect the people I loved against those like you. Dangerous specials with little regard for human life. And look at me." He smiled sadly, turning his eyes to the fire again. Might as well get this over with. "At first, I had these powers. Strength. Speed. Super senses. Then, a week or so later came the side effects. Suddenly I collapsed and when I came back, I was craving blood. I was cold and dead but I felt intensely alive. Poor Matthew. He found me like that and I...I ripped his throat out," Mohinder said very quietly. He wanted to vomit. "I left him at the Company hoping they could bring him back and then I put Molly on a plane to India and I ran. I tried to control myself but moments of weakness overcame me. The virus overcame me. I didn't
( ... )
He didn't know why, but it gratified him to know that Molly Walker was still alive. He had a thing about that girl, as strange as his fixation on Mohinder, but with a different colouring to it.
"Here you are," Sylar agreed, a bemused smile on his lips. He felt terribly flattered. Another person might feel guilty or ashamed, but to Sylar, this was all the deepest compliment. The world was burning because what he did meant so much to Mohinder that he rashly used a science on himself that should have been given years of cautious testing.
"Stop it!" Claire stood up suddenly, her own stomach turning as she watched the killer's quiet reveling. "God! What is the matter with you?! People are dying, and Mohinder is suffering! Ugh! I wish it was you! I should be you!"
But it wasn't, and it couldn't be, because what Peter had from her, Sylar had gotten out of him. It disgusted her. The three of them, immortal, stuck together forever when the Intuitive deserved nothing better than to be rotting in a grave.
"Claire," Peter said, gently taking her by the wrist.
"Thank you." Mohinder gave her a small nod. "But he's right to mock me. I deserve that and much more, for what I've caused. And I shouldn't have taken you from your schooling." He should have stayed here alone and worked until he died of starvation, really. That would have been fair. "Peter, you should take her back. Its only right."
"I'm not leaving you two here alone. You'll kill each other." He hated this fact but he cared for both of them.
"You're forgetting, I can't die," Sylar answered Peter with an amused sarcasm, not denying the potential for violence, but pointing out the flaw in the potential outcome. "And since Claire's still pink and shiny after a week of those fangs in her neck, I think it's safe to say, we're immune."
He gave her a bit of a cold glare, a look which she returned with heated defiance. "I'm going to bed," she bit out, finally, sick of being in the same room with the man she loathed most in all the world, and headed for the stairs. Things had been fine before he showed up. A little scary, but she'd had a purpose, and they might have eventually found a cure. With Sylar here, the house was more likely to blow up.
"It would still hurt," Peter said, then sighed when Claire left, watching her. He was torn between his brother and his neice and his friend now, caught in the middle of this. Ugh.
"Goodnight, Claire." Mohinder frowned after her and then said pointedly to Sylar, "Happy? You just love driving people away don't you?"
"Guys seriously. No bickering, no fighting. That won't get us anywhere." Peter looked at both of them, since they were both guilty of poking the lion in its cage. "For the time being, try to forget your messy past and just put your heads together. Mohinder, have you had a chance to look at a sample of your own blood under a microscope, at least?"
"Yes. I broke into a laboratory in Texas and got a look. It was complete mayhem...the virus seemed to be running rampant in my veins, multiplying quickly before my eyes."
"So we need to find the key to slowing it down, right? You remember what you put into it...what chemicals or whatever you used?"
"Yes, I've been down this road. That didn't work."
"This is why Peter and I want you to come back to New York. The Company has all the facilities and equipment you could possibly need to examine and test everything. With Linderman out of the way, Angela and Mr. Bishop are the ones in control of everything. Otherwise I wouldn't even be here. Luckily, Mom adores me." he finished his tea and set the mug aside, crossing his arms over his stomach, idly.
"Did you have to bring him?" Claire murmured privately to Peter, while the Intuitive's back was turned. She was sure he could still hear her, would probably hear her if she'd been in the basement and him in the attic, but she didn't care. After what he'd done to Jackie and all the time he'd spent stalking her, being courteous with him wasn't a major priority.
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Upstairs, Mohinder heard their plans of tea and fire. He missed tea. Sure, he could still drink it, but it didn't do much for him in terms of taste. Nothing was as savory as blood. Disgusted with himself, he cleaned his blood-and-dirt caked skin in the bathroom and then put on fresh clothes; another pair of jeans and a white button-up. Mohinder headed downstairs with his briefcase of notes and took a seat in one of the armchairs by the fire. Ahhhh, warmth.
Awkward, annoying, Sylar-filled warmth. Humph.
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He'd gotten better at reigning himself in again. Once upon a time he'd been so very good at it, that no one thought he was anything but the sweetest, most insignificant of men. Handing out the tea cups, he felt that same feeling of being ready to crawl out of his own skin, the way he had, back then. This was a complete disaster.
Standing back to the opposite side of the fire, he asked simply, "How close are you to finding the cure?"
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Peter settled next to Claire on the couch, watching Mohinder. Goddamn he looked creepy in the light of the fire, especially when its licking flames caught his eyes. "Come on, this is right up Sylar's alley. He's good at figuring stuff out. Let him help."
"If he wanted to help he should have stayed away!" Mohinder snarled dangerously. The virus had given him a short temper.
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"You're not killing anyone, but you're holding Claire prisoner, here. Why couldn't you stay in Santa Cruz? She couldn't help you and go to school?"
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Peter began to feel uncomfortable that he and Claire had to watch this. The emotional energy between these two was....whew. He shifted in his seat and kept his mouth shut.
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Nevermind that Sylar wasn't supposed to be interested in power-hunting these days. Peter tended to frown on such things.
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Mohinder looked at the fire and ran a hand up his arm thoughtfully. Having Sylar say something so selfish was comforting in an odd way.
He pulled the briefcase up onto his lap and opened it, quietly going through his own notes. Most of them didn't make sense; mindless scribbles of theories and ideas that he'd done when blood-crazed. In fact, most of the papers were adorned with smears of rodent blood or the occasional speck of human DNA, but he paid it no mind. It meant nothing to him dried up and crisped on his papers, only fresh and hot.
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Peter frowned at his old friend, listening.
"I wasn't trying to, though," Mohinder continued. "I just....wanted to find a way to give myself an ability. So that I could protect the people I loved against those like you. Dangerous specials with little regard for human life. And look at me." He smiled sadly, turning his eyes to the fire again. Might as well get this over with. "At first, I had these powers. Strength. Speed. Super senses. Then, a week or so later came the side effects. Suddenly I collapsed and when I came back, I was craving blood. I was cold and dead but I felt intensely alive. Poor Matthew. He found me like that and I...I ripped his throat out," Mohinder said very quietly. He wanted to vomit. "I left him at the Company hoping they could bring him back and then I put Molly on a plane to India and I ran. I tried to control myself but moments of weakness overcame me. The virus overcame me. I didn't ( ... )
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"Here you are," Sylar agreed, a bemused smile on his lips. He felt terribly flattered. Another person might feel guilty or ashamed, but to Sylar, this was all the deepest compliment. The world was burning because what he did meant so much to Mohinder that he rashly used a science on himself that should have been given years of cautious testing.
"Stop it!" Claire stood up suddenly, her own stomach turning as she watched the killer's quiet reveling. "God! What is the matter with you?! People are dying, and Mohinder is suffering! Ugh! I wish it was you! I should be you!"
But it wasn't, and it couldn't be, because what Peter had from her, Sylar had gotten out of him. It disgusted her. The three of them, immortal, stuck together forever when the Intuitive deserved nothing better than to be rotting in a grave.
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"Thank you." Mohinder gave her a small nod. "But he's right to mock me. I deserve that and much more, for what I've caused. And I shouldn't have taken you from your schooling." He should have stayed here alone and worked until he died of starvation, really. That would have been fair. "Peter, you should take her back. Its only right."
"I'm not leaving you two here alone. You'll kill each other." He hated this fact but he cared for both of them.
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He gave her a bit of a cold glare, a look which she returned with heated defiance. "I'm going to bed," she bit out, finally, sick of being in the same room with the man she loathed most in all the world, and headed for the stairs. Things had been fine before he showed up. A little scary, but she'd had a purpose, and they might have eventually found a cure. With Sylar here, the house was more likely to blow up.
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"Goodnight, Claire." Mohinder frowned after her and then said pointedly to Sylar, "Happy? You just love driving people away don't you?"
"Guys seriously. No bickering, no fighting. That won't get us anywhere." Peter looked at both of them, since they were both guilty of poking the lion in its cage. "For the time being, try to forget your messy past and just put your heads together. Mohinder, have you had a chance to look at a sample of your own blood under a microscope, at least?"
"Yes. I broke into a laboratory in Texas and got a look. It was complete mayhem...the virus seemed to be running rampant in my veins, multiplying quickly before my eyes."
"So we need to find the key to slowing it down, right? You remember what you put into it...what chemicals or whatever you used?"
"Yes, I've been down this road. That didn't work."
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"This is why Peter and I want you to come back to New York. The Company has all the facilities and equipment you could possibly need to examine and test everything. With Linderman out of the way, Angela and Mr. Bishop are the ones in control of everything. Otherwise I wouldn't even be here. Luckily, Mom adores me." he finished his tea and set the mug aside, crossing his arms over his stomach, idly.
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Peter lifted his brows. This wasn't going to end well. They were taking him back to New York, no matter what. "We won't let them."
"You two can't stop them. They do what they want, no matter the circumstances."
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