Fic: Kidnapped
Title: Kidnapped
Author: starrdust411
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing: Sylar/Mohinder, minor Peter/Claude
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Sylar takes matters into his own hands. (Continuation to the Fathers series)
Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes.
Warnings: Humor, Implied Mpreg, AU, Slash, Implied Violence
The look on Peter's face when he opened his front door was absolutely priceless. The young man looked panicked, frightened as he stared at him with wide, bewildered eyes. If it weren't for the fact that he was in such a hurry, Sylar might have continued to enjoy the way Peter was practically paling at the very sight of him.
"Don't judge me Peter," he said automatically, because he could just about see the chiding words forming behind those dopey brown eyes.
"Don't judge you?" Peter practically sputtered. "How can I not judge you? Why is Manu here?"
Sylar shrugged, the gesture causing the toddler sleeping in his arms to bounce slightly. Manu let out a soft sigh as he curled into his father's warmth, his little brown hands tightening their grip on the stuffed tiger in his arms. "I brought him here."
The younger man groaned, rubbing the sleep out of his tired eyes. Obviously this was not how he wanted to start his day. "What the hell is going on?" he sighed, his brain scrambling to work overtime in order to process this information. "I know for a fact that Mohinder isn't speaking to you, hasn't been for months, so why on earth are you holding his son in your arms?"
"First of all, Manu is our son," he corrected, placing a gentle hand on the back of Manu's curly head to emphasize his point. "Second... well, since Mohinder wouldn't let me see him I decided to just take him, for a little while at least."
"You kidnapped him?"
"It's not 'kidnapping' when it's your son," Sylar chided.
"I think there are a few inmates who would disagree with you and..." Peter let out a frustrated groan as he cradled his head in his hands. He looked as if his brain were about to implode. "I can't believe you did this! Do you have any idea how crazy this is? All the progress you've made... This is a major step backwards! And Mohinder! Mohinder is going to pitch a fit! He might kill you for this. He might actually kill you!"
Sylar snorted, rolling his eyes at Peter's frantic raving. "Calm down. I have a plan."
"Plan? What kind of plan? Is it a plan that involves going to jail for kidnapping?" Another groan and now Peter's face was starting to turn strawberry red. "This is bad. Very, very bad. I have to call Mohinder."
"Go ahead, call him," he shrugged casually. "Although he might be a bit cranky. It is late in India."
Peter frowned, his frantic mood slowly evaporating into confusion. "Wait... you're okay with me calling Mohinder? Won't that interfere with your 'plan'?"
Sylar smirked. "Of course not, I knew you would. That's just how you work. Besides, I'm not worried about Mohinder finding out that Manu's gone. Eventually he's going to notice that his son is missing. He'd be a pretty bad father if he didn't. And when he does find out he'll know I was the one who took him, and then he'll use the brat to track me down, and then he'll fly to New York and come get him back. And when he does, we'll finally be able to talk and work things out. Until then, I get to spend some quality time with my son."
The young man blinked, staring at him with a painfully blank expression. "You... how... when did you plan all of this? And how did you even get Manu in the first place?"
Sylar scoffed, rolling his eyes at the last question. "I teleported. And don't worry, no body died. I'm not off the wagon."
"Well that's comforting," Peter muttered. "But... well, why are you here?"
"Because I have to go to work today," Sylar sighed, adjusting Manu in his grasp. "I need you to babysit for me."
Peter frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. "Aren't you worried I'm just going to give Manu back to Mohinder and spoil all of your plans?"
"Nope," he said calmly. "I know that you can only hold onto one ability at a time and that right now you can't fly or teleport. So you're not exactly a threat to my plans."
"Well, I can't," Peter shrugged.
"Come on Petrelli, I really need you to watch him. I don't get sick so I don't get sick days. Besides, he's a good kid and he's probably just gonna sleep all day anyway. It's past his bedtime."
"No, Sylar, I really can't," the young man stressed.
"Why not?"
"Because I have to go to work today!"
"Oh," Sylar said slowly, noticing for the first time that Peter was wearing his paramedic uniform. "Well, then whose gonna be watching your kids?"
"Claude."
He frowned at the other man's answer. Claude was decent guy -- probably too good for Petrelli -- but Sylar knew that Claude didn't really care for anyone who wasn't related to him, which made the British man a less than idle babysitter. Sylar huffed, realizing that he was not only going to be late, but that he now had no choice but to bring Manu to work with him.
"Thanks for nothing, Petrelli," he muttered bitterly as he stormed off down the hall. "See if I ever do you any favors."
He barely heard Peter yell"You've never done anything for me!" as he took each step two at a time.
-+-+-+-
"Alright, now scroll the mouse right over there," Sylar instructed, pointing towards a document in the corner of his monitor.
"Like this?" Manu asked, now fully awake and eager to be entertained. He moved the mouse just enough for the little white arrow to land on top of the indicated document.
"That's right," he said gently, giving the toddler a loving squeeze. "Now click the mouse two times. Real fast."
"Like this?" the boy asked again, clicking the small tablet as fast as little fingers could. The screen flashed white as a new window popped up and filled the monitor.
"What a smart boy!" Sylar crooned, pressing a quick kiss against soft black curls. It was fortunate that he didn't have any field assignments or meetings to attend (although something could always pop up), but the man still felt guilty for dragging the toddler to work with him. Days filled with paperwork and writing up reports were the more tedious and dull aspects of his job and he knew that Manu wouldn't want to be trapped in his office (which felt more like a broom closet on the best days) all afternoon. It was going to be a challenge to keep the three year old entertained. "Now, what else can we do?"
The door swung open and Manu instantly flinched, wrapping his arms around the tiger doll and shrinking into himself as Bennet marched in. "Sylar, I just checked the time sheets. Did you actually come in two hours late?"
Sylar shrugged. "Traffic was a nightmare." He wished he could have teleported in to work, but when he had taken Manu from Chennai to New York the toddler had reacted poorly to the instantaneous transportation and thrown up upon arrival. It had taken nearly an hour to get the boy cleaned up and calmed down. The last thing Sylar wanted was a repeat of that incident.
Bennet looked as if he were about to say more, but the words quickly died on his tongue as his eyes landed on the child sitting on Sylar's lap. "Why is there a toddler in your office?"
"I took him out of his bed in the middle of the night and decided to bring him to work with me," he said flatly.
Bennet frowned, not at all amused by Sylar's words. "Is that Suresh's son?"
"He's our son," he amended, annoyed to have to make that distinction twice in one day. He couldn't understand why people didn't acknowledge him as Manu's father. Just because the boy took after Mohinder didn't discount the fact that he'd contributed half his genetic code. Sylar turned his attention to Manu, who was being far too quiet for his liking. "Manu, this is the mean man who yells at Papa all day. Do you want to say hello?"
Manu kept quiet, his head and eyes staying low as he hugged his stuffed tiger impossibly close before burying his face in the soft orange and black fabric.
"You don't want to say hello?" Sylar pushed, brushed the child's soft cheeks with his knuckles.
The boy made a soft noise of displeasure before shaking his head.
Sylar chuckled, turning his attention back to the man in the horn-rimmed glasses. "Well, look at that. My poor little Angel is afraid of you, Noah," he said, although in truth, Sylar wasn't sure whether Manu was afraid of Bennet or simply intimidated by strangers.
"Cute," Bennet droned, his face twisting into a displeased glower. "Sylar, can I speak with you in the hall?"
He frowned, knowing that he really couldn't say no. The man sighed as he stood up and placed Manu back down in his chair. "Papa's gonna go talk to Mr. Bennet in the hallway," Sylar explained, running a gentle hand over Manu's black curls. "Are you gonna be okay in here by yourself?"
Manu nodded, still unusually quiet.
Sylar kissed his cheek. "I'll be right back. Stay right here."
He barely saw the boy nod again as he turned and walked out into the hallway, closing the door behind him. From the displeased grimace on Bennet's features, Sylar could see that he was in for a lecture. Wonderful.
"This is a government facility, Sylar, not a daycare center," Bennet chided.
"Yeah, I figured as much," he shot back, making sure to keep his voice as dull and uninterested as possible, "but, you know, we could really use one of those. How else is a working single dad like me supposed to make it in this fast paced world?"
"I thought the boy lived with Mohinder."
He shrugged. "We're working out a new situation."
Bennet sighed and Sylar could tell that the man couldn't possibly care any less about his relationship with Mohinder. "Can I give you some advice?"
"Can I stop you?"
"Kids and offices don't mix," he continued, pointedly ignoring Sylar's words. "Children need to be entertained. Leaving them locked up in a cubicle all day is a recipe for disaster. They'll be tearing up paper and knocking over files left and right."
"Manu's not a destructive little monster," Sylar shot back tersely. "He's a good boy. He's special."
Bennet flinched ever so slightly at his pointed comment. "And my children aren't?" he asked, reading between the lines.
Sylar snorted, rolling his eyes. "You mean Claire-Bear and Larry? Well, I'm sure they picked up their fair share of gold stars in their day, but my little angel's got a bright shining future ahead of him. He even might be President some day."
"He was born in India."
"Are you saying his potential should be limited because he's a minority?" Sylar huffed, crossing his arms over his chest defensively. "I always knew you were a bigot."
Bennet sighed, pushing his glasses against his eyes as he pinched the bridge of his nose wearily. Sylar always did have that effect on him. "Sylar just... get out of here. Take the kid and go... away."
"You mean you're actually giving me permission to play hooky?" Sylar smiled, punching Bennet's shoulder affectionately. "I always knew you had a soft spot for me, Noah. Maybe I should bring a toddler to work with me every day?"
"Please don't. And don't think you're going to get paid for this. You just used a sick day."
"I don't have sick days."
"Well, you just used a vacation day," he finished, before turning and marching down the hall.
-+-+-+-
Sylar smiled, as he walked out into the bright mid-morning sun, Manu's hand placed firmly in his own. It was rare that he and Manu ever got to be alone together. There was always someone around, supervising them, but now he was actually going to spend an entire day alone with his son. Possibly two days depending on how long it took Mohinder to get him.
"What do you want to do today, Angel?" Sylar asked, swinging their joined hands happily.
Manu smiled up at him, his little legs working overtime to keep up with his long strides. "I wanna see Father."
Sylar laughed, trying to hide the way his heart was twisting in his chest at the boy's innocent suggestion. They had only been together a few hours -- most of which Manu had spent asleep -- and already the child wanted to see Mohinder? Was he really that boring? Or did Manu really love Mohinder that much more than him? "We're not gonna see Father today, sweetheart," he told him gently. "It's just you and me today."
"I miss Father," Manu said simply and Sylar swore that there was a sad gleam in the boy's deep brown eyes. "He kiss me good morning here," the boy said, tapping this forehead. "And he kiss Thirsty good morning here." He tapped the tiger's button nose and suddenly Sylar hated that tiger.
"Manu," Sylar began, but his words were cut off when his phone started to vibrate. He frowned, reaching into his pocket and retrieving his cell phone. His scowl deepened at the unfamiliar number on the display, yet he picked up anyway. "Hello?"
"You're dead, you know that?" Sylar smiled at Mohinder's tone, livid and frantic and quivering with barely contained rage. "You are so fucking dead."
"Good morning, Mohinder," he chirped, making sure to drag out the man's name. "Did you sleep well?"
"Where's my baby?" the Indian asked instantly. "What have you done with him? Where is he?"
"He's fine," he said calmly, insulted that Mohinder would even think he'd hurt the child. "He's with me. He's-"
"Let me speak to him." It wasn't a question and if Sylar didn't know any better, he would have sworn that Mohinder was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. He didn't know whether to feel proud or... guilty. "I want to talk to him. Now!"
Sylar didn't bother to argue. He merely bent down to grab Manu, balancing the toddler on his hip. "Here," he said, handing him his cell phone. Manu grabbed the phone with both hands, nearly dropping his tiger in the process. "It's Daddy."
"Father?" Manu asked as if testing to see if his parent had been telling the truth. Sylar frowned, turning up his hearing to listen in on the conversation.
"Manu!" Mohinder breathed the name as if a giant weight had been lifted off of his chest. "Oh thank God! Are you alright, darling? Are you okay?"
"Hi Father!" the boy greeted happily, too young and innocent to notice the panicked tone in his parent's voice. "I'm okay. I'm with Papa."
"I know, dear," he heard Mohinder whisper. Sylar imagined him holding the phone, cradling it tightly in his strong hands as barely contained tears stung his reddening eyes. He had to fight to ignore the tightening in his chest as Mohinder continued to speak. "And don't worry, I'm going to come get you. I promise I'll be there as soon as possible to take you home."
"Okay," Manu answered automatically.
"I love you, darling."
"Love you, Father." Sylar cringed, wondering if the pain in his chest was from his heart breaking in half or a heart attack. The man barely noticed that the conversation had ended until Manu's little hands began pressing the phone against his pale cheek. "You talk now."
He smiled, taking the offered phone before gently putting Manu back down. Sylar had a feeling he wouldn't want the child catching any part of Mohinder's end of the conversation. "Why is the tiger's name 'Thirsty'?" he asked, testing to see how irritated the Indian was.
"Shut up!" No snappy come back. He was pretty pissed. "You're a bastard. This is exactly why I did not want you in Manu's life: because it was only a matter of time before you did something like this."
"Maybe if you hadn't pushed me away-"
"Don't even!" he practically screeched. "Do you have any idea how terrified I was when I walked into Manu's room and saw that his bed was empty? I was going out of my head! Thank God Peter called to tell me what happened."
"Oh please. I only took him four hours ago."
"Fours hours in which my son has been missing!" Sylar had to yank the phone away from his ears, convinced that they would start bleeding at any second. Mohinder was beyond pissed. "Now you listen to me and listen good; I'm going to get on a plane and head straight to New York, so you better lock yourself in a church and make your peace with God, because when I get my hands on you I'll make sure there will be no chance of you coming back. Ever!"
The call ended there and Sylar imagined Mohinder slamming his phone shut. No. He probably crushed it in his hand, crumpling the plastic and metal like old paper. The image, the words, the vicious voice growling in his head made his heart tremble in his chest.
Manu tugged on his fingers. He looked down at the child, who looked back at him, reminding the ex-serial killer how similar their eyes were. Sylar smiled, scooping the boy back up again. "Let's go get some breakfast."
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The food had been ordered, the plates had arrived and been licked clean, but Sylar was in no rush to leave the diner they had stopped in for breakfast. It was still early in the day and the ex-serial killer knew that he should be thinking of ways to spend this rare day off and even rarer opportunity to be alone with his offspring. Yet the toddler's presence was such a joy that he felt perfectly content to sit back and watch Manu play with his crayons and color.
The boy colored inside the lines perfectly. He clutched his crayon tightly in his little hand, gliding along the paper children's menu confident and steadily, his streaks never straying far from the thick black lines of each figure. Yet despite the boy’s neat coloring, Sylar was amused by the toddler's lack of variety. Manu seemed to think that every single animal residing on a farm should be blue and hadn't let go of the blue crayon since opening the box.
"Sweetie, are you sure you want to make that cow blue?" Sylar asked as he brushed the boy's curls out of his eyes.
"Yes," the toddler said automatically, his eyes never straying from the paper.
"Have you ever seen a blue cow?" he asked.
"No."
"Then why make this cow blue?"
"Because it's my cow," Manu answered proudly. "And I like blue."
"That's a good answer," Sylar chuckled as he leaned in to kiss the top of the boy's hair. "So what do you want to do today, Angel? We can do anything you want."
Manu smiled at his words. He dropped his crayons, coloring temporarily forgotten, as he picked up the stuffed animal that had been lying beside him on the booth's plastic seat cushions and pulled it into his lap. "I wanna see a tiger," he answered gleefully.
"Okay," Sylar beamed, lifting the toddler onto his lap.
"And I wanna eat ice cream."
"Alright, we can do that too."
"And I wanna see a dinosaur."
Sylar frowned at the boy's request. Obviously "anything" wasn't the best choice of words when speaking to a three year old. "I don't know about that, Angel," he began slowly. "You see, there aren't any dinosaurs-"
"Please, Papa?" Manu begged sweetly, his dark brown eyes impossibly wide as he gazed up at Sylar hopefully. "You promised. You said 'anything.'"
The man sighed, wrapping his arms around the boy and cradling him close. "You're lucky I love you the way I do," he whispered, kissing the tip of Manu's nose, before tucking his head under his chin.
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Knocking on the door for the second time that day, Sylar sincerely hoped that Peter was home. Otherwise, his plans would once again be derailed. The sun had already set and it had been a long day for both of them. Even though the child was wide awake at the moment, Sylar could tell that the sudden time change was getting to Manu and he needed to rest. It was fortunate that Peter opened the door, wearing a pair of sweats and a tired expression on his face, an expression that quickly melted away when Manu wrap his little arms around the man in an excited hug.
"Uncle Peter!" Manu greeted happily. Sylar absolutely hated hearing his child call Peter that, but the man had to admit that Peter was probably the closest thing the boy had to an actual uncle.
"Hey! Look who's awake," Peter teased, lifting the toddler into his arms and placing a quick kiss to chubby brown cheeks.
"Uncle Peter! Uncle Peter! Guess what?" Manu asked, tugging at Peter's sleeve insistently despite the fact that the man was already giving him his full attention. "Papa took me to the zoo an' we saw tigers! Then, then we went to a museum an' saw dinosaurs! And then, then we ate ice cream."
Peter chuckled, turning to give Sylar a mildly startled look. "Wow. Sounds like you two had a really busy day. What happened to work?"
Sylar shrugged. "Bennet kicked me out of the office," he said simply. "Figured I might as well take Manu out while I still had him. Can he stay here tonight?"
"Stay here?" he repeated, frowning in confusion. "Well, we were kinda just sitting down for dinner."
"That's alright, he hasn't eaten dinner yet." The ex-serial killer smiled, reaching out to run his hand through Manu's soft curls. "Do you want to have a sleepover at Uncle Peter's?" he asked the boy. Manu titled his head back and smiled at him, yet the child said nothing as if sensing that it wasn't really his decision.
"Fine," Peter sighed, placing Manu on the ground. "Manu, sweetie, why don't you go inside and wash your hands?" The boy nodded before disappearing into the apartment to do as he was told. Once the child was gone, Peter stepped into the hallway, closing the door behind him. "What's wrong?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. "I thought you would have wanted to spend the whole day with him. Are you bored already?"
Sylar scoffed, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Funny, but no. I just figured, it would be best for Manu to stay here tonight since Mohinder's on his way to New York to kill me. I was about Manu's age when I saw my mom get killed. I don't really want to put him through that."
The younger man sighed, shaking his head sadly at Sylar's words. "Your life makes me sad."
"Don't pity me, Peter," he snapped. "The last thing I need is to know that you cry yourself to sleep at night thinking about me."
"Don't worry. I won't be pitying you anymore, now that you're all crazy again."
"I am not crazy," he practically seethed. "And I am not having this argument with you again."
He turned, ready to storm off a second time, but Peter's hand gripping his arm stopped the man in his tracks. "Sylar, wait a minute." Peter sighed, his face an unreadable mask of emotions, all of which he struggled to control. "I know that you have this 'plan' and everything, but... well, have you given any thought to what you're actually going to say to Mohinder when you see him?"
Sylar shrugged because he hadn't put any thought into exactly what he wanted to say. He didn't see any point in planning out his words. It had been months since he had seen or spoken to Mohinder and there was plenty that he wanted to say, but he knew that rehearsing a speech would just make whatever he said seem cheap and insincere. "I'm just going to tell him what needs to be said," he said simply.
"You mean your usual speech about how you love him and he loves you, but doesn't realize it and that the two of you should be together because it's destiny?" Peter asked, frowning in disapproval. "That's not good enough Sylar."
"Well what would you suggest?" he asked wearily.
"Frankly, I'd work on an apology if I were you," Peter told him.
"Apology for what?" he snapped. "What I did was no different than what he's been doing to me for the past three years."
"No, Sylar, there's a big difference between what you did and what Mohinder did," Peter chided. Peter was using the soft tone of voice that he usually used when talking to his children. Suddenly Sylar's hands itched with the urge to punch him. "You see, Mohinder took Manu away from you, because you threatened to kill an innocent woman. That's called parenting. You took Manu away from Mohinder because you wanted to hurt him. That's called being a malicious child."
"I am not a child," he huffed. "And maybe I wouldn't be so 'malicious' if people started to see things from my perspective. You only think I threatened to kill that woman, because that's what Mohinder told you, that's his side of the story. Well it's not true. I only warned her to stay away from my family, but that's it. There were no specific threats of any kind. And besides, you didn't hear what she had said. She didn't want to be a mother. She didn't like Mohinder's kids! If I hadn't done anything he would have made a huge mistake."
"Did you talk to Mohinder about this?" Peter asked, his voice completely calm and even. "Did you consider that?"
"Mohinder doesn't listen to me," he sighed. "Nobody listens to me. I changed, but everybody still treats me the same as they did before: with cautious fear. The only way I get results is when I take action and do things my way."
"Sylar, that's... that's not true," he assured him, but Sylar only rolled his eyes at the obviously forced words. "Sylar," Peter began again, reaching out to grip the other man's arm and give it a firm squeeze. "I know that staying clean is frustrating, but... but the way you've changed does make a difference. If you were still the old Sylar, you would never have even gotten a chance to get to know Manu."
"I barely know him now." He frowned, shaking his head slowly. "I really do want to just take him away sometimes. Him and Mohinder. I wish I could take them away to some island somewhere and keep them all to myself. That's probably what I would have done before. I'm still trying to resist the urge to do it now."
"That's probably for the best," Peter said, an awkward chuckle coloring his words. "But, it's late. You should probably go home and think about what you're going to say to Mohinder."
"I'd be better off going to a church and repenting," he joked.
"Yeah."
Sylar frowned, not liking the too serious tone to Peter's voice. "You really think he's going to kill me, don't you?"
"Yup," Peter nodded. "I really do. I know I'd kill anybody who tried to kidnap my kids."
He felt his frown deepen at those words. "That's a little harsh for you."
"Yeah, like you wouldn't?" he shot back. "Besides, I know Mohinder and I don't like to be called moms, but that's pretty much what we are and the bond between mother and child isn't something to be taken lightly. He's probably sitting on that plane thinking of all the ways to murder you and make it stick."
Sylar cringed. That wasn't what he needed to hear at that moment. "Thank you for that horrifying image Peter," he grumbled. "I don't think I'll be getting any sleep tonight."
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It was seven in the morning when the knock came on his front door, jerking him awake. Sylar hadn't meant to fall asleep on his couch, but the fact that he had didn't really surprise him. He blinked several times as his eyes adjusted to the orange light of the rising sun that filtered into his apartment. Another knock came, much harder than the last one, but Sylar was in no rush since he already knew exactly who was. He yawned, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes before standing up to answer the door.
He wasn't at all surprised to see Mohinder standing in the hall, a grim look on his tired features. What did surprise him was the fact that the Indian hadn't broken the door down and attacked him, although Sylar could tell that he was prepared for a fight.
"Is that a paddle?" he asked, eyeing the huge chunk of wood Mohinder was carrying at his side.
"Cricket bat," the Indian corrected, lifting the bat to give Sylar a better look. He could see that it was old, worn, with a number of dents and rough scratches on its surface, a clear indication that Mohinder knew how to use it.
"Is that for me?"
"Maybe," Mohinder said smoothly, pressing the tip of the paddle painfully against Sylar's chest. Sylar stumbled as he walked backwards into the apartment in a vain attempt to get away from the pressure crushing his sternum, but Mohinder met him step for step. "First things first; where's Manu?"
"Not here," he assured him. "I dropped him off at Petrelli's apartment last night. I didn't want him to be here for... this."
Mohinder frowned thoughtfully, the anger burning behind his dark brown eyes diminishing slightly. "That's interesting, because I was planning on using this to knock some sense into that thick skull of yours," he began, waving the bat pointedly, "but I got a rather interesting phone call from Peter just now."
"Peter?"
He nodded. "Funny that he didn't mention having my son in his care."
"Well, I promise you that's where he is," Sylar told him, glad that Mohinder hadn't cracked open his skull just yet.
"I believe you," Mohinder sighed and Sylar hoped that the disappointment in the man's tone was from the fact that he was going to have a little bit longer to wait to see their son and not the loss of yet another reason to brutalize his being. "But I suppose we should talk about... well, everything."
The Indian fell silent as he walked into the living room and sat down on the plastic slip covered couch, resting the cricket bat across his lap. Sylar followed, choosing to sit on the edge of the coffee table directly across from him. It was only then that he noticed that the beard Mohinder had grown was now gone and from the five o'clock shadow now decorating his features it had probably been shaven off weeks ago. The pair of wire framed glasses, however, still rested on the bridge of his nose.
"Peter told me what you said to him," Mohinder began wearily. "An island Sylar? Really?"
Sylar frowned, resisting the urge to blush at the question. He should have known Petrelli wouldn't have the decency or the sense to keep that to himself. "Please tell me that wasn't the only thing he said to you?"
"It wasn't," he assured him, leaning forward so that the two of them were sitting closer. "He also said that you were feeling 'frustrated,' because I don't listen to you." The slap was sudden, but not completely unexpected. Yet the fact that his jaw was cracked, but hadn't been completely shattered was proof that Mohinder was using only a fraction of his strength. "Seeing how I'm the one who just had my child kidnapped I would have to say that you have no right to feel frustrated by anything!"
"Hey, my frustrations started long before I decided to kidnap our son," he argued once his jaw was set and healed. "You don't even try to make an effort! I'm the one who has to be nice and put up with your constant hostility. Do you know how angering it is to have to jump through hoops just to see your own child? And then even after following all the stupid little rules for years you slip up just once and then suddenly the best thing that's ever happened to you has been taken away?"
"Once again you insist on making everything about you," Mohinder snapped. "Well there's more at stake here than your happiness. There's Manu. I'm in charge of that little boy and I have to make sure that he's safe. I had already told you that I had my doubts about your 'rehabilitation' and then you turn around and threaten my fiancée! How was I supposed to react to that? Then just to make things worse, months later you sneak into my home in the middle of the night and take my three year old son."
"I took Manu to make a point."
"That you're crazy? Well, I was already aware of that."
"No," Sylar huffed. "The point is that ignoring me won't make me go away. Ignoring the fact that I'm the father of your child doesn't erase my existence in his life or yours! I wanted this to happen, I wanted us to talk about our feelings, because that's what parents are supposed to do. You changed your number, changed your email, and returned all of my letters unopened. Of course I behaved irrationally! It was the only way I was going to get your attention."
Mohinder let out a long sigh as he crossed his arms over his flat chest and leaned back against the couch. The ex-serial killer had to resist the urge to smile at the triumph of having finally made a valid point.
"Why didn't you just tell me that Mira didn't want to be a mother to my children?" Mohinder asked after a while.
"I tried to, but you wouldn't listen."
"Yes, you tried to tell me after you attacked her," he said pointedly. "Why not come to me first?"
"Would you have listened let alone believed me?" Sylar asked, already knowing the answer.
The geneticist sighed again. "No," he half whispered. "But it doesn't matter now. Mira told me as much after we called off the wedding. She also told me that you tried to convince her that I was Manu's 'mother.' Fortunately she didn't believe you, but now she thinks I have sex with psychopaths... which unfortunately is true."
Sylar smirked as he got up from his seat perched on the edge of the table and went to sit beside Mohinder on the couch. "She wasn't right for you anyway. You need someone more-"
"Like you?" Mohinder cut in bitterly. "I don't know what to do anymore. Having you as a part time father didn't work and cutting you out of my life completely blew up in my face." He sighed, rubbing at his temples wearily. "So what now?"
"We could get married," Sylar supplied hopefully.
Mohinder scoffed. "Not happening."
"We could start dating."
"Nice try, but no."
"You could move back here."
There was a long, thoughtful pause and Sylar held his breath as he waited for what was sure to be a resounding "no." Yet Mohinder surprised him when he sighed and whispered, "Maybe."
"Maybe?" he repeated. He had never been so grateful to hear that one little word.
"Maybe," Mohinder said again just as Sylar began to lean over to kiss him, but the Indian stopped him with a harsh shove and a very firm "No," before adding "Our relationship aside, moving back to America would save me a lot of trouble. I'm always purchasing plane tickets to visit someone and I'm really getting quite sick of flying." He frowned, shifting in his seat. "I'd have to talk it over with my family though. And finding a decent place to live will be tricky."
"I could help you look," Sylar volunteered, because he knew that inviting Mohinder to move in with him was too much to ask for.
"Then there's finding a job," he went on, muttering to himself as if Sylar hadn't said anything. "A real job. No more bloody cab driving. I have children to feed after all."
Sylar shrugged. "There's always the Company."
Mohinder turned to him then, a bitter scowl darkening his features. "That is not an option."
The man held up his hands against Mohinder's defensive tone. "Just a suggestion," he told him. Still the idea that Mohinder and Manu may be living in the same country, the same state, the same city as him was enough to make Sylar feel positively light headed. "You're really going to think about this, right?" Sylar asked, reaching out to grasp Mohinder's hand in his own. The Indian frowned at the gesture, but did not pull away. "I mean, this isn't going to be like the baby thing. You're actually going to consider it. Right?"
"I did think about the 'baby thing,'" Mohinder snipped as he yanked his hand away. "I thought about it and realized it wasn't a good idea. And..." He sighed, running a tired hand over his face. "Yes! Yes I will think about this. That's all for now."
Sylar smiled, practically beaming as he leaned in to give Mohinder's cheek a quick peck, one that was too quick for the geneticist to dodge. "Thank you," he whispered.
"We still have something else to discuss," Mohinder growled, his fingers tapping the blunt end of his bat dangerously. "A small matter of you breaking into my home in the middle of the night and taking my baby out of his bed."
"Oh. Right." Sylar paled, his stomach dropping to his feet as the Indian stood, gripping the handle in his right hand, the blade in the palm of his left. He gulped, his throat suddenly feeling impossibly tight and dry at the sight. "Do you know how to use that?"
"Well, I'm really more of a tennis man as of late," Mohinder confessed, a thoughtful look crossing his face. "And when I do play cricket, I'm a much better bowler than a batsman. Of course, this sort of thing does come naturally to me."
Sylar frowned, a confused look crossing his features as he tried to wrap his head around Mohinder's words. "What?" he asked, but as soon as the word left his lips, Mohinder swung the bat and his entire world exploded into white hot pain.
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By eight forty-five, Mohinder's cricket bat had snapped clean in half and the geneticist had gotten his fill of beating Sylar senseless. The serial killer had lost count of how many times he had "died" and been brought back that morning, but even as he climbed the steps to Peter's apartment, his body -- now back in one piece -- still felt dull and sore from the previous activities of the morning.
"I don't think my jaw healed right," Sylar whined, opening and closing his mouth and listening carefully as a strange sound greeted his ears with each flex of his jaw muscles. "It's clicking."
Mohinder turned and threw him a bored look, not bothering to stop his climb up the steps. "Oh, perhaps you'd like me to adjust it for you?"
He flinched, unconsciously and too noticeably to be shrugged off, as the Indian reached towards him as if he sincerely were going to adjust his jaw. "No. I'll fix it later," Sylar mumbled.
The Indian huffed, picking up the pace as they approached the desired floor and Sylar couldn't help thinking how this was the third time he was going to Peter's apartment in the past twenty four hours. Not that he really had to come this time. It was quite obvious from Mohinder's attitude and pointed silence that the man didn't want him there, but Sylar wasn't one to let a single opportunity to be with his son slip by.
Mohinder was already at the door and knocking frantically by the time Sylar had reached the last step and he couldn't help smirking at the other man's behavior. This must have been the first time Mohinder and Manu had been so far apart and the Indian was not handling it well at all. Mohinder was every bit the fiercely protective parent Peter had described.
The door swung open and Peter stood in the threshold an infant in the crook of his arm, a bottle in hand, and a tired expression on his face. He brightened slightly at the sight of his Indian friend. "Mohinder," he began, but the geneticist was not in the mood for pleasantries.
"Where's Manu?" he asked automatically.
Peter's smile widened as he stepped aside, nudging the door open with his shoulder. "In the living room with June," he told his friend. "They're watching Sesame Street."
Mohinder was through the threshold and sprinting into the apartment before the last half of Peter's statement could be finished. Sylar frowned at Peter and then the baby -- whose name he still couldn't remember -- resting in his arm. It still grated his nerves that the empath now had two children and he still only had one. "Sesame Street? Really?" Sylar chided, crossing his arms over his chest. "You let your children watch that show?"
Peter frowned, tilting his head in confusion. "Uh, yeah. It's a cute show. And it's educational."
"It's creepy!" Sylar cut in. "Kids wandering the streets talking to puppet monsters? That's a sick, twisted show."
The younger man's frown only deepened in response to his words. "Your world view is sick and twisted," he sighed, stepping inside.
Sylar rolled his eyes as he walked past Peter and into the living room. He saw Mohinder crouched on the floor, cradling Manu tightly against his chest and raining kisses across the boy's round cheeks. "Oh my baby," Mohinder whispered between desperate kisses, his words sounding more like sobs as he continued to hold the child impossibly close. "My sweet, sweet baby! I'm never letting you out of my sight again. Not ever!"
"Father, it's okay," Manu told him. The toddler was obviously far too young to understand why his parent was so distressed, but the tears streaking down his cheeks were unmistakable, even to three year old eyes. "I'm not hurt."
"I know," he sniffed trying and failing to fight against his tears, but they continued to flow freely despite his best efforts. "I know dearest, it's just... I'm just so happy to see you."
The ex-serial killer felt his heart clench painfully at the sight. It almost felt as if the muscle had crumpled up and died in his chest. Watching Mohinder tearfully cradling their child was enough to actually make the man feel...
The unmistakable feeling of a small hand tugging at his pant leg was enough to draw Sylar's attention away from the emotional scene going on in front of him. He turned his gaze downward to the pigtailed toddler starring up at him with bright blue eyes. "Morning, Unky Gabe," June chirped, waving her juice cup at him.
He groaned as a few drops of orange juice splashed onto the front of his shirt. "Peter, come and get your oldest brat away from me," he grumbled.
Peter was at his side in an instant, cradling the infant in the crook of one arm and using his free hand to pluck June from the ground and tuck her under his other arm, holding her in a manner similar to the way someone would carry a football. "You have such a way with children," he muttered dryly. "Did you ever give Mohinder that sincere, heartfelt apology like I suggested?"
Sylar shrugged. "It never really came up."
The empath frowned, looking from Mohinder -- still raining grateful kisses against Manu's round cheeks -- to Sylar. "Well, I think you should probably do it now," he whispered. Peter adjusted June until she was balanced on his hip before walking into the living room. "Mohinder," he began gently, pulling the geneticist's attention away from the toddler still wrapped tightly in his arms. "I was just about to serve breakfast. You don't mind if I take Manu into the kitchen with the girls, do you?"
"Oh, of course," Mohinder answered, reluctantly releasing the boy from his grasp.
Sylar knew right away that Peter was giving him an opening by allowing to the two to have a moment of privacy, but the knowledge that Mohinder was most likely not ready to forgive and forget, despite the hour long pain session they had just gone through gave him pause. Yet as soon as the paramedic and the children were out of the room, Sylar took the opportunity and stepped over to Mohinder. The geneticist was still kneeling on the floor, his eyes lingering on the direction of the apartment Manu had disappeared in to. Sylar sighed as he crouched down beside him.
"I'm sorry," he said, his voice quiet and awkward.
Mohinder turned to him as if he had just noticed Sylar's arrival. "Do you realize that that's the first time you've ever apologized to me for anything?" The Indian pointed out bitterly. He frowned, pushing himself off of the ground and staring down at Sylar. "And don't think that some half hearted 'sorry' is going to make up for what you did. Even before Manu was born I was worried that something like this would happen. And then I walk into his bedroom and find that my biggest fear has finally come true. How do you think that made me feel? Not knowing where my own child was? Do you think if I took something as precious away from you a simple 'I'm sorry' would be enough to fix everything?"
He sighed, not bothering to get up from his humiliating position. "Well I did just let you break my neck and every other bone in my body repeatedly for the past hour. Doesn't that count for something?"
The Indian scoffed, rolling his eyes at the comment. "You've done a lot of horrible things to me Sylar, things that I don't have the energy to drudge up right now, but the fact that you're actually acknowledging your own wrong doings is a small step in the right direction."
Sylar allowed himself a small smile when Mohinder offered him his hand in assistance. He took it willingly, yet even when he had been pulled to his feet, Mohinder did not release him from his grasp. It was no tender touch as his pale fingers quickly turned red then purple from the pain.
"Other people's feeling's matter, Sylar," Mohinder said tersely. "And I'm not just talking about myself either. Your actions affect people, they affect Manu, and if you want to be any kind of father you had better keep that in mind." His hand was alight with pain when Mohinder released the appendage from his crushing grasp. "I know you can be better than this, Sylar," Mohinder said, and the lack of a tingle in his being told the serial killer he was telling the truth, "so stop proving me wrong."
Sylar couldn't stop the broad grin from spreading across his features as the geneticist turned and walked away from him. Mohinder believed in him. That was a step in the right direction.
Movie Night
Author: starrdust411
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing: Sylar/Mohinder, minor Peter/Claude
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Sylar takes matters into his own hands. (Continuation to the Fathers series)
Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes.
Warnings: Humor, Implied Mpreg, AU, Slash, Implied Violence
The look on Peter's face when he opened his front door was absolutely priceless. The young man looked panicked, frightened as he stared at him with wide, bewildered eyes. If it weren't for the fact that he was in such a hurry, Sylar might have continued to enjoy the way Peter was practically paling at the very sight of him.
"Don't judge me Peter," he said automatically, because he could just about see the chiding words forming behind those dopey brown eyes.
"Don't judge you?" Peter practically sputtered. "How can I not judge you? Why is Manu here?"
Sylar shrugged, the gesture causing the toddler sleeping in his arms to bounce slightly. Manu let out a soft sigh as he curled into his father's warmth, his little brown hands tightening their grip on the stuffed tiger in his arms. "I brought him here."
The younger man groaned, rubbing the sleep out of his tired eyes. Obviously this was not how he wanted to start his day. "What the hell is going on?" he sighed, his brain scrambling to work overtime in order to process this information. "I know for a fact that Mohinder isn't speaking to you, hasn't been for months, so why on earth are you holding his son in your arms?"
"First of all, Manu is our son," he corrected, placing a gentle hand on the back of Manu's curly head to emphasize his point. "Second... well, since Mohinder wouldn't let me see him I decided to just take him, for a little while at least."
"You kidnapped him?"
"It's not 'kidnapping' when it's your son," Sylar chided.
"I think there are a few inmates who would disagree with you and..." Peter let out a frustrated groan as he cradled his head in his hands. He looked as if his brain were about to implode. "I can't believe you did this! Do you have any idea how crazy this is? All the progress you've made... This is a major step backwards! And Mohinder! Mohinder is going to pitch a fit! He might kill you for this. He might actually kill you!"
Sylar snorted, rolling his eyes at Peter's frantic raving. "Calm down. I have a plan."
"Plan? What kind of plan? Is it a plan that involves going to jail for kidnapping?" Another groan and now Peter's face was starting to turn strawberry red. "This is bad. Very, very bad. I have to call Mohinder."
"Go ahead, call him," he shrugged casually. "Although he might be a bit cranky. It is late in India."
Peter frowned, his frantic mood slowly evaporating into confusion. "Wait... you're okay with me calling Mohinder? Won't that interfere with your 'plan'?"
Sylar smirked. "Of course not, I knew you would. That's just how you work. Besides, I'm not worried about Mohinder finding out that Manu's gone. Eventually he's going to notice that his son is missing. He'd be a pretty bad father if he didn't. And when he does find out he'll know I was the one who took him, and then he'll use the brat to track me down, and then he'll fly to New York and come get him back. And when he does, we'll finally be able to talk and work things out. Until then, I get to spend some quality time with my son."
The young man blinked, staring at him with a painfully blank expression. "You... how... when did you plan all of this? And how did you even get Manu in the first place?"
Sylar scoffed, rolling his eyes at the last question. "I teleported. And don't worry, no body died. I'm not off the wagon."
"Well that's comforting," Peter muttered. "But... well, why are you here?"
"Because I have to go to work today," Sylar sighed, adjusting Manu in his grasp. "I need you to babysit for me."
Peter frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. "Aren't you worried I'm just going to give Manu back to Mohinder and spoil all of your plans?"
"Nope," he said calmly. "I know that you can only hold onto one ability at a time and that right now you can't fly or teleport. So you're not exactly a threat to my plans."
"Well, I can't," Peter shrugged.
"Come on Petrelli, I really need you to watch him. I don't get sick so I don't get sick days. Besides, he's a good kid and he's probably just gonna sleep all day anyway. It's past his bedtime."
"No, Sylar, I really can't," the young man stressed.
"Why not?"
"Because I have to go to work today!"
"Oh," Sylar said slowly, noticing for the first time that Peter was wearing his paramedic uniform. "Well, then whose gonna be watching your kids?"
"Claude."
He frowned at the other man's answer. Claude was decent guy -- probably too good for Petrelli -- but Sylar knew that Claude didn't really care for anyone who wasn't related to him, which made the British man a less than idle babysitter. Sylar huffed, realizing that he was not only going to be late, but that he now had no choice but to bring Manu to work with him.
"Thanks for nothing, Petrelli," he muttered bitterly as he stormed off down the hall. "See if I ever do you any favors."
He barely heard Peter yell"You've never done anything for me!" as he took each step two at a time.
-+-+-+-
"Alright, now scroll the mouse right over there," Sylar instructed, pointing towards a document in the corner of his monitor.
"Like this?" Manu asked, now fully awake and eager to be entertained. He moved the mouse just enough for the little white arrow to land on top of the indicated document.
"That's right," he said gently, giving the toddler a loving squeeze. "Now click the mouse two times. Real fast."
"Like this?" the boy asked again, clicking the small tablet as fast as little fingers could. The screen flashed white as a new window popped up and filled the monitor.
"What a smart boy!" Sylar crooned, pressing a quick kiss against soft black curls. It was fortunate that he didn't have any field assignments or meetings to attend (although something could always pop up), but the man still felt guilty for dragging the toddler to work with him. Days filled with paperwork and writing up reports were the more tedious and dull aspects of his job and he knew that Manu wouldn't want to be trapped in his office (which felt more like a broom closet on the best days) all afternoon. It was going to be a challenge to keep the three year old entertained. "Now, what else can we do?"
The door swung open and Manu instantly flinched, wrapping his arms around the tiger doll and shrinking into himself as Bennet marched in. "Sylar, I just checked the time sheets. Did you actually come in two hours late?"
Sylar shrugged. "Traffic was a nightmare." He wished he could have teleported in to work, but when he had taken Manu from Chennai to New York the toddler had reacted poorly to the instantaneous transportation and thrown up upon arrival. It had taken nearly an hour to get the boy cleaned up and calmed down. The last thing Sylar wanted was a repeat of that incident.
Bennet looked as if he were about to say more, but the words quickly died on his tongue as his eyes landed on the child sitting on Sylar's lap. "Why is there a toddler in your office?"
"I took him out of his bed in the middle of the night and decided to bring him to work with me," he said flatly.
Bennet frowned, not at all amused by Sylar's words. "Is that Suresh's son?"
"He's our son," he amended, annoyed to have to make that distinction twice in one day. He couldn't understand why people didn't acknowledge him as Manu's father. Just because the boy took after Mohinder didn't discount the fact that he'd contributed half his genetic code. Sylar turned his attention to Manu, who was being far too quiet for his liking. "Manu, this is the mean man who yells at Papa all day. Do you want to say hello?"
Manu kept quiet, his head and eyes staying low as he hugged his stuffed tiger impossibly close before burying his face in the soft orange and black fabric.
"You don't want to say hello?" Sylar pushed, brushed the child's soft cheeks with his knuckles.
The boy made a soft noise of displeasure before shaking his head.
Sylar chuckled, turning his attention back to the man in the horn-rimmed glasses. "Well, look at that. My poor little Angel is afraid of you, Noah," he said, although in truth, Sylar wasn't sure whether Manu was afraid of Bennet or simply intimidated by strangers.
"Cute," Bennet droned, his face twisting into a displeased glower. "Sylar, can I speak with you in the hall?"
He frowned, knowing that he really couldn't say no. The man sighed as he stood up and placed Manu back down in his chair. "Papa's gonna go talk to Mr. Bennet in the hallway," Sylar explained, running a gentle hand over Manu's black curls. "Are you gonna be okay in here by yourself?"
Manu nodded, still unusually quiet.
Sylar kissed his cheek. "I'll be right back. Stay right here."
He barely saw the boy nod again as he turned and walked out into the hallway, closing the door behind him. From the displeased grimace on Bennet's features, Sylar could see that he was in for a lecture. Wonderful.
"This is a government facility, Sylar, not a daycare center," Bennet chided.
"Yeah, I figured as much," he shot back, making sure to keep his voice as dull and uninterested as possible, "but, you know, we could really use one of those. How else is a working single dad like me supposed to make it in this fast paced world?"
"I thought the boy lived with Mohinder."
He shrugged. "We're working out a new situation."
Bennet sighed and Sylar could tell that the man couldn't possibly care any less about his relationship with Mohinder. "Can I give you some advice?"
"Can I stop you?"
"Kids and offices don't mix," he continued, pointedly ignoring Sylar's words. "Children need to be entertained. Leaving them locked up in a cubicle all day is a recipe for disaster. They'll be tearing up paper and knocking over files left and right."
"Manu's not a destructive little monster," Sylar shot back tersely. "He's a good boy. He's special."
Bennet flinched ever so slightly at his pointed comment. "And my children aren't?" he asked, reading between the lines.
Sylar snorted, rolling his eyes. "You mean Claire-Bear and Larry? Well, I'm sure they picked up their fair share of gold stars in their day, but my little angel's got a bright shining future ahead of him. He even might be President some day."
"He was born in India."
"Are you saying his potential should be limited because he's a minority?" Sylar huffed, crossing his arms over his chest defensively. "I always knew you were a bigot."
Bennet sighed, pushing his glasses against his eyes as he pinched the bridge of his nose wearily. Sylar always did have that effect on him. "Sylar just... get out of here. Take the kid and go... away."
"You mean you're actually giving me permission to play hooky?" Sylar smiled, punching Bennet's shoulder affectionately. "I always knew you had a soft spot for me, Noah. Maybe I should bring a toddler to work with me every day?"
"Please don't. And don't think you're going to get paid for this. You just used a sick day."
"I don't have sick days."
"Well, you just used a vacation day," he finished, before turning and marching down the hall.
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Sylar smiled, as he walked out into the bright mid-morning sun, Manu's hand placed firmly in his own. It was rare that he and Manu ever got to be alone together. There was always someone around, supervising them, but now he was actually going to spend an entire day alone with his son. Possibly two days depending on how long it took Mohinder to get him.
"What do you want to do today, Angel?" Sylar asked, swinging their joined hands happily.
Manu smiled up at him, his little legs working overtime to keep up with his long strides. "I wanna see Father."
Sylar laughed, trying to hide the way his heart was twisting in his chest at the boy's innocent suggestion. They had only been together a few hours -- most of which Manu had spent asleep -- and already the child wanted to see Mohinder? Was he really that boring? Or did Manu really love Mohinder that much more than him? "We're not gonna see Father today, sweetheart," he told him gently. "It's just you and me today."
"I miss Father," Manu said simply and Sylar swore that there was a sad gleam in the boy's deep brown eyes. "He kiss me good morning here," the boy said, tapping this forehead. "And he kiss Thirsty good morning here." He tapped the tiger's button nose and suddenly Sylar hated that tiger.
"Manu," Sylar began, but his words were cut off when his phone started to vibrate. He frowned, reaching into his pocket and retrieving his cell phone. His scowl deepened at the unfamiliar number on the display, yet he picked up anyway. "Hello?"
"You're dead, you know that?" Sylar smiled at Mohinder's tone, livid and frantic and quivering with barely contained rage. "You are so fucking dead."
"Good morning, Mohinder," he chirped, making sure to drag out the man's name. "Did you sleep well?"
"Where's my baby?" the Indian asked instantly. "What have you done with him? Where is he?"
"He's fine," he said calmly, insulted that Mohinder would even think he'd hurt the child. "He's with me. He's-"
"Let me speak to him." It wasn't a question and if Sylar didn't know any better, he would have sworn that Mohinder was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. He didn't know whether to feel proud or... guilty. "I want to talk to him. Now!"
Sylar didn't bother to argue. He merely bent down to grab Manu, balancing the toddler on his hip. "Here," he said, handing him his cell phone. Manu grabbed the phone with both hands, nearly dropping his tiger in the process. "It's Daddy."
"Father?" Manu asked as if testing to see if his parent had been telling the truth. Sylar frowned, turning up his hearing to listen in on the conversation.
"Manu!" Mohinder breathed the name as if a giant weight had been lifted off of his chest. "Oh thank God! Are you alright, darling? Are you okay?"
"Hi Father!" the boy greeted happily, too young and innocent to notice the panicked tone in his parent's voice. "I'm okay. I'm with Papa."
"I know, dear," he heard Mohinder whisper. Sylar imagined him holding the phone, cradling it tightly in his strong hands as barely contained tears stung his reddening eyes. He had to fight to ignore the tightening in his chest as Mohinder continued to speak. "And don't worry, I'm going to come get you. I promise I'll be there as soon as possible to take you home."
"Okay," Manu answered automatically.
"I love you, darling."
"Love you, Father." Sylar cringed, wondering if the pain in his chest was from his heart breaking in half or a heart attack. The man barely noticed that the conversation had ended until Manu's little hands began pressing the phone against his pale cheek. "You talk now."
He smiled, taking the offered phone before gently putting Manu back down. Sylar had a feeling he wouldn't want the child catching any part of Mohinder's end of the conversation. "Why is the tiger's name 'Thirsty'?" he asked, testing to see how irritated the Indian was.
"Shut up!" No snappy come back. He was pretty pissed. "You're a bastard. This is exactly why I did not want you in Manu's life: because it was only a matter of time before you did something like this."
"Maybe if you hadn't pushed me away-"
"Don't even!" he practically screeched. "Do you have any idea how terrified I was when I walked into Manu's room and saw that his bed was empty? I was going out of my head! Thank God Peter called to tell me what happened."
"Oh please. I only took him four hours ago."
"Fours hours in which my son has been missing!" Sylar had to yank the phone away from his ears, convinced that they would start bleeding at any second. Mohinder was beyond pissed. "Now you listen to me and listen good; I'm going to get on a plane and head straight to New York, so you better lock yourself in a church and make your peace with God, because when I get my hands on you I'll make sure there will be no chance of you coming back. Ever!"
The call ended there and Sylar imagined Mohinder slamming his phone shut. No. He probably crushed it in his hand, crumpling the plastic and metal like old paper. The image, the words, the vicious voice growling in his head made his heart tremble in his chest.
Manu tugged on his fingers. He looked down at the child, who looked back at him, reminding the ex-serial killer how similar their eyes were. Sylar smiled, scooping the boy back up again. "Let's go get some breakfast."
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The food had been ordered, the plates had arrived and been licked clean, but Sylar was in no rush to leave the diner they had stopped in for breakfast. It was still early in the day and the ex-serial killer knew that he should be thinking of ways to spend this rare day off and even rarer opportunity to be alone with his offspring. Yet the toddler's presence was such a joy that he felt perfectly content to sit back and watch Manu play with his crayons and color.
The boy colored inside the lines perfectly. He clutched his crayon tightly in his little hand, gliding along the paper children's menu confident and steadily, his streaks never straying far from the thick black lines of each figure. Yet despite the boy’s neat coloring, Sylar was amused by the toddler's lack of variety. Manu seemed to think that every single animal residing on a farm should be blue and hadn't let go of the blue crayon since opening the box.
"Sweetie, are you sure you want to make that cow blue?" Sylar asked as he brushed the boy's curls out of his eyes.
"Yes," the toddler said automatically, his eyes never straying from the paper.
"Have you ever seen a blue cow?" he asked.
"No."
"Then why make this cow blue?"
"Because it's my cow," Manu answered proudly. "And I like blue."
"That's a good answer," Sylar chuckled as he leaned in to kiss the top of the boy's hair. "So what do you want to do today, Angel? We can do anything you want."
Manu smiled at his words. He dropped his crayons, coloring temporarily forgotten, as he picked up the stuffed animal that had been lying beside him on the booth's plastic seat cushions and pulled it into his lap. "I wanna see a tiger," he answered gleefully.
"Okay," Sylar beamed, lifting the toddler onto his lap.
"And I wanna eat ice cream."
"Alright, we can do that too."
"And I wanna see a dinosaur."
Sylar frowned at the boy's request. Obviously "anything" wasn't the best choice of words when speaking to a three year old. "I don't know about that, Angel," he began slowly. "You see, there aren't any dinosaurs-"
"Please, Papa?" Manu begged sweetly, his dark brown eyes impossibly wide as he gazed up at Sylar hopefully. "You promised. You said 'anything.'"
The man sighed, wrapping his arms around the boy and cradling him close. "You're lucky I love you the way I do," he whispered, kissing the tip of Manu's nose, before tucking his head under his chin.
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Knocking on the door for the second time that day, Sylar sincerely hoped that Peter was home. Otherwise, his plans would once again be derailed. The sun had already set and it had been a long day for both of them. Even though the child was wide awake at the moment, Sylar could tell that the sudden time change was getting to Manu and he needed to rest. It was fortunate that Peter opened the door, wearing a pair of sweats and a tired expression on his face, an expression that quickly melted away when Manu wrap his little arms around the man in an excited hug.
"Uncle Peter!" Manu greeted happily. Sylar absolutely hated hearing his child call Peter that, but the man had to admit that Peter was probably the closest thing the boy had to an actual uncle.
"Hey! Look who's awake," Peter teased, lifting the toddler into his arms and placing a quick kiss to chubby brown cheeks.
"Uncle Peter! Uncle Peter! Guess what?" Manu asked, tugging at Peter's sleeve insistently despite the fact that the man was already giving him his full attention. "Papa took me to the zoo an' we saw tigers! Then, then we went to a museum an' saw dinosaurs! And then, then we ate ice cream."
Peter chuckled, turning to give Sylar a mildly startled look. "Wow. Sounds like you two had a really busy day. What happened to work?"
Sylar shrugged. "Bennet kicked me out of the office," he said simply. "Figured I might as well take Manu out while I still had him. Can he stay here tonight?"
"Stay here?" he repeated, frowning in confusion. "Well, we were kinda just sitting down for dinner."
"That's alright, he hasn't eaten dinner yet." The ex-serial killer smiled, reaching out to run his hand through Manu's soft curls. "Do you want to have a sleepover at Uncle Peter's?" he asked the boy. Manu titled his head back and smiled at him, yet the child said nothing as if sensing that it wasn't really his decision.
"Fine," Peter sighed, placing Manu on the ground. "Manu, sweetie, why don't you go inside and wash your hands?" The boy nodded before disappearing into the apartment to do as he was told. Once the child was gone, Peter stepped into the hallway, closing the door behind him. "What's wrong?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. "I thought you would have wanted to spend the whole day with him. Are you bored already?"
Sylar scoffed, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Funny, but no. I just figured, it would be best for Manu to stay here tonight since Mohinder's on his way to New York to kill me. I was about Manu's age when I saw my mom get killed. I don't really want to put him through that."
The younger man sighed, shaking his head sadly at Sylar's words. "Your life makes me sad."
"Don't pity me, Peter," he snapped. "The last thing I need is to know that you cry yourself to sleep at night thinking about me."
"Don't worry. I won't be pitying you anymore, now that you're all crazy again."
"I am not crazy," he practically seethed. "And I am not having this argument with you again."
He turned, ready to storm off a second time, but Peter's hand gripping his arm stopped the man in his tracks. "Sylar, wait a minute." Peter sighed, his face an unreadable mask of emotions, all of which he struggled to control. "I know that you have this 'plan' and everything, but... well, have you given any thought to what you're actually going to say to Mohinder when you see him?"
Sylar shrugged because he hadn't put any thought into exactly what he wanted to say. He didn't see any point in planning out his words. It had been months since he had seen or spoken to Mohinder and there was plenty that he wanted to say, but he knew that rehearsing a speech would just make whatever he said seem cheap and insincere. "I'm just going to tell him what needs to be said," he said simply.
"You mean your usual speech about how you love him and he loves you, but doesn't realize it and that the two of you should be together because it's destiny?" Peter asked, frowning in disapproval. "That's not good enough Sylar."
"Well what would you suggest?" he asked wearily.
"Frankly, I'd work on an apology if I were you," Peter told him.
"Apology for what?" he snapped. "What I did was no different than what he's been doing to me for the past three years."
"No, Sylar, there's a big difference between what you did and what Mohinder did," Peter chided. Peter was using the soft tone of voice that he usually used when talking to his children. Suddenly Sylar's hands itched with the urge to punch him. "You see, Mohinder took Manu away from you, because you threatened to kill an innocent woman. That's called parenting. You took Manu away from Mohinder because you wanted to hurt him. That's called being a malicious child."
"I am not a child," he huffed. "And maybe I wouldn't be so 'malicious' if people started to see things from my perspective. You only think I threatened to kill that woman, because that's what Mohinder told you, that's his side of the story. Well it's not true. I only warned her to stay away from my family, but that's it. There were no specific threats of any kind. And besides, you didn't hear what she had said. She didn't want to be a mother. She didn't like Mohinder's kids! If I hadn't done anything he would have made a huge mistake."
"Did you talk to Mohinder about this?" Peter asked, his voice completely calm and even. "Did you consider that?"
"Mohinder doesn't listen to me," he sighed. "Nobody listens to me. I changed, but everybody still treats me the same as they did before: with cautious fear. The only way I get results is when I take action and do things my way."
"Sylar, that's... that's not true," he assured him, but Sylar only rolled his eyes at the obviously forced words. "Sylar," Peter began again, reaching out to grip the other man's arm and give it a firm squeeze. "I know that staying clean is frustrating, but... but the way you've changed does make a difference. If you were still the old Sylar, you would never have even gotten a chance to get to know Manu."
"I barely know him now." He frowned, shaking his head slowly. "I really do want to just take him away sometimes. Him and Mohinder. I wish I could take them away to some island somewhere and keep them all to myself. That's probably what I would have done before. I'm still trying to resist the urge to do it now."
"That's probably for the best," Peter said, an awkward chuckle coloring his words. "But, it's late. You should probably go home and think about what you're going to say to Mohinder."
"I'd be better off going to a church and repenting," he joked.
"Yeah."
Sylar frowned, not liking the too serious tone to Peter's voice. "You really think he's going to kill me, don't you?"
"Yup," Peter nodded. "I really do. I know I'd kill anybody who tried to kidnap my kids."
He felt his frown deepen at those words. "That's a little harsh for you."
"Yeah, like you wouldn't?" he shot back. "Besides, I know Mohinder and I don't like to be called moms, but that's pretty much what we are and the bond between mother and child isn't something to be taken lightly. He's probably sitting on that plane thinking of all the ways to murder you and make it stick."
Sylar cringed. That wasn't what he needed to hear at that moment. "Thank you for that horrifying image Peter," he grumbled. "I don't think I'll be getting any sleep tonight."
-+-+-+-
It was seven in the morning when the knock came on his front door, jerking him awake. Sylar hadn't meant to fall asleep on his couch, but the fact that he had didn't really surprise him. He blinked several times as his eyes adjusted to the orange light of the rising sun that filtered into his apartment. Another knock came, much harder than the last one, but Sylar was in no rush since he already knew exactly who was. He yawned, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes before standing up to answer the door.
He wasn't at all surprised to see Mohinder standing in the hall, a grim look on his tired features. What did surprise him was the fact that the Indian hadn't broken the door down and attacked him, although Sylar could tell that he was prepared for a fight.
"Is that a paddle?" he asked, eyeing the huge chunk of wood Mohinder was carrying at his side.
"Cricket bat," the Indian corrected, lifting the bat to give Sylar a better look. He could see that it was old, worn, with a number of dents and rough scratches on its surface, a clear indication that Mohinder knew how to use it.
"Is that for me?"
"Maybe," Mohinder said smoothly, pressing the tip of the paddle painfully against Sylar's chest. Sylar stumbled as he walked backwards into the apartment in a vain attempt to get away from the pressure crushing his sternum, but Mohinder met him step for step. "First things first; where's Manu?"
"Not here," he assured him. "I dropped him off at Petrelli's apartment last night. I didn't want him to be here for... this."
Mohinder frowned thoughtfully, the anger burning behind his dark brown eyes diminishing slightly. "That's interesting, because I was planning on using this to knock some sense into that thick skull of yours," he began, waving the bat pointedly, "but I got a rather interesting phone call from Peter just now."
"Peter?"
He nodded. "Funny that he didn't mention having my son in his care."
"Well, I promise you that's where he is," Sylar told him, glad that Mohinder hadn't cracked open his skull just yet.
"I believe you," Mohinder sighed and Sylar hoped that the disappointment in the man's tone was from the fact that he was going to have a little bit longer to wait to see their son and not the loss of yet another reason to brutalize his being. "But I suppose we should talk about... well, everything."
The Indian fell silent as he walked into the living room and sat down on the plastic slip covered couch, resting the cricket bat across his lap. Sylar followed, choosing to sit on the edge of the coffee table directly across from him. It was only then that he noticed that the beard Mohinder had grown was now gone and from the five o'clock shadow now decorating his features it had probably been shaven off weeks ago. The pair of wire framed glasses, however, still rested on the bridge of his nose.
"Peter told me what you said to him," Mohinder began wearily. "An island Sylar? Really?"
Sylar frowned, resisting the urge to blush at the question. He should have known Petrelli wouldn't have the decency or the sense to keep that to himself. "Please tell me that wasn't the only thing he said to you?"
"It wasn't," he assured him, leaning forward so that the two of them were sitting closer. "He also said that you were feeling 'frustrated,' because I don't listen to you." The slap was sudden, but not completely unexpected. Yet the fact that his jaw was cracked, but hadn't been completely shattered was proof that Mohinder was using only a fraction of his strength. "Seeing how I'm the one who just had my child kidnapped I would have to say that you have no right to feel frustrated by anything!"
"Hey, my frustrations started long before I decided to kidnap our son," he argued once his jaw was set and healed. "You don't even try to make an effort! I'm the one who has to be nice and put up with your constant hostility. Do you know how angering it is to have to jump through hoops just to see your own child? And then even after following all the stupid little rules for years you slip up just once and then suddenly the best thing that's ever happened to you has been taken away?"
"Once again you insist on making everything about you," Mohinder snapped. "Well there's more at stake here than your happiness. There's Manu. I'm in charge of that little boy and I have to make sure that he's safe. I had already told you that I had my doubts about your 'rehabilitation' and then you turn around and threaten my fiancée! How was I supposed to react to that? Then just to make things worse, months later you sneak into my home in the middle of the night and take my three year old son."
"I took Manu to make a point."
"That you're crazy? Well, I was already aware of that."
"No," Sylar huffed. "The point is that ignoring me won't make me go away. Ignoring the fact that I'm the father of your child doesn't erase my existence in his life or yours! I wanted this to happen, I wanted us to talk about our feelings, because that's what parents are supposed to do. You changed your number, changed your email, and returned all of my letters unopened. Of course I behaved irrationally! It was the only way I was going to get your attention."
Mohinder let out a long sigh as he crossed his arms over his flat chest and leaned back against the couch. The ex-serial killer had to resist the urge to smile at the triumph of having finally made a valid point.
"Why didn't you just tell me that Mira didn't want to be a mother to my children?" Mohinder asked after a while.
"I tried to, but you wouldn't listen."
"Yes, you tried to tell me after you attacked her," he said pointedly. "Why not come to me first?"
"Would you have listened let alone believed me?" Sylar asked, already knowing the answer.
The geneticist sighed again. "No," he half whispered. "But it doesn't matter now. Mira told me as much after we called off the wedding. She also told me that you tried to convince her that I was Manu's 'mother.' Fortunately she didn't believe you, but now she thinks I have sex with psychopaths... which unfortunately is true."
Sylar smirked as he got up from his seat perched on the edge of the table and went to sit beside Mohinder on the couch. "She wasn't right for you anyway. You need someone more-"
"Like you?" Mohinder cut in bitterly. "I don't know what to do anymore. Having you as a part time father didn't work and cutting you out of my life completely blew up in my face." He sighed, rubbing at his temples wearily. "So what now?"
"We could get married," Sylar supplied hopefully.
Mohinder scoffed. "Not happening."
"We could start dating."
"Nice try, but no."
"You could move back here."
There was a long, thoughtful pause and Sylar held his breath as he waited for what was sure to be a resounding "no." Yet Mohinder surprised him when he sighed and whispered, "Maybe."
"Maybe?" he repeated. He had never been so grateful to hear that one little word.
"Maybe," Mohinder said again just as Sylar began to lean over to kiss him, but the Indian stopped him with a harsh shove and a very firm "No," before adding "Our relationship aside, moving back to America would save me a lot of trouble. I'm always purchasing plane tickets to visit someone and I'm really getting quite sick of flying." He frowned, shifting in his seat. "I'd have to talk it over with my family though. And finding a decent place to live will be tricky."
"I could help you look," Sylar volunteered, because he knew that inviting Mohinder to move in with him was too much to ask for.
"Then there's finding a job," he went on, muttering to himself as if Sylar hadn't said anything. "A real job. No more bloody cab driving. I have children to feed after all."
Sylar shrugged. "There's always the Company."
Mohinder turned to him then, a bitter scowl darkening his features. "That is not an option."
The man held up his hands against Mohinder's defensive tone. "Just a suggestion," he told him. Still the idea that Mohinder and Manu may be living in the same country, the same state, the same city as him was enough to make Sylar feel positively light headed. "You're really going to think about this, right?" Sylar asked, reaching out to grasp Mohinder's hand in his own. The Indian frowned at the gesture, but did not pull away. "I mean, this isn't going to be like the baby thing. You're actually going to consider it. Right?"
"I did think about the 'baby thing,'" Mohinder snipped as he yanked his hand away. "I thought about it and realized it wasn't a good idea. And..." He sighed, running a tired hand over his face. "Yes! Yes I will think about this. That's all for now."
Sylar smiled, practically beaming as he leaned in to give Mohinder's cheek a quick peck, one that was too quick for the geneticist to dodge. "Thank you," he whispered.
"We still have something else to discuss," Mohinder growled, his fingers tapping the blunt end of his bat dangerously. "A small matter of you breaking into my home in the middle of the night and taking my baby out of his bed."
"Oh. Right." Sylar paled, his stomach dropping to his feet as the Indian stood, gripping the handle in his right hand, the blade in the palm of his left. He gulped, his throat suddenly feeling impossibly tight and dry at the sight. "Do you know how to use that?"
"Well, I'm really more of a tennis man as of late," Mohinder confessed, a thoughtful look crossing his face. "And when I do play cricket, I'm a much better bowler than a batsman. Of course, this sort of thing does come naturally to me."
Sylar frowned, a confused look crossing his features as he tried to wrap his head around Mohinder's words. "What?" he asked, but as soon as the word left his lips, Mohinder swung the bat and his entire world exploded into white hot pain.
-+-+-+-
By eight forty-five, Mohinder's cricket bat had snapped clean in half and the geneticist had gotten his fill of beating Sylar senseless. The serial killer had lost count of how many times he had "died" and been brought back that morning, but even as he climbed the steps to Peter's apartment, his body -- now back in one piece -- still felt dull and sore from the previous activities of the morning.
"I don't think my jaw healed right," Sylar whined, opening and closing his mouth and listening carefully as a strange sound greeted his ears with each flex of his jaw muscles. "It's clicking."
Mohinder turned and threw him a bored look, not bothering to stop his climb up the steps. "Oh, perhaps you'd like me to adjust it for you?"
He flinched, unconsciously and too noticeably to be shrugged off, as the Indian reached towards him as if he sincerely were going to adjust his jaw. "No. I'll fix it later," Sylar mumbled.
The Indian huffed, picking up the pace as they approached the desired floor and Sylar couldn't help thinking how this was the third time he was going to Peter's apartment in the past twenty four hours. Not that he really had to come this time. It was quite obvious from Mohinder's attitude and pointed silence that the man didn't want him there, but Sylar wasn't one to let a single opportunity to be with his son slip by.
Mohinder was already at the door and knocking frantically by the time Sylar had reached the last step and he couldn't help smirking at the other man's behavior. This must have been the first time Mohinder and Manu had been so far apart and the Indian was not handling it well at all. Mohinder was every bit the fiercely protective parent Peter had described.
The door swung open and Peter stood in the threshold an infant in the crook of his arm, a bottle in hand, and a tired expression on his face. He brightened slightly at the sight of his Indian friend. "Mohinder," he began, but the geneticist was not in the mood for pleasantries.
"Where's Manu?" he asked automatically.
Peter's smile widened as he stepped aside, nudging the door open with his shoulder. "In the living room with June," he told his friend. "They're watching Sesame Street."
Mohinder was through the threshold and sprinting into the apartment before the last half of Peter's statement could be finished. Sylar frowned at Peter and then the baby -- whose name he still couldn't remember -- resting in his arm. It still grated his nerves that the empath now had two children and he still only had one. "Sesame Street? Really?" Sylar chided, crossing his arms over his chest. "You let your children watch that show?"
Peter frowned, tilting his head in confusion. "Uh, yeah. It's a cute show. And it's educational."
"It's creepy!" Sylar cut in. "Kids wandering the streets talking to puppet monsters? That's a sick, twisted show."
The younger man's frown only deepened in response to his words. "Your world view is sick and twisted," he sighed, stepping inside.
Sylar rolled his eyes as he walked past Peter and into the living room. He saw Mohinder crouched on the floor, cradling Manu tightly against his chest and raining kisses across the boy's round cheeks. "Oh my baby," Mohinder whispered between desperate kisses, his words sounding more like sobs as he continued to hold the child impossibly close. "My sweet, sweet baby! I'm never letting you out of my sight again. Not ever!"
"Father, it's okay," Manu told him. The toddler was obviously far too young to understand why his parent was so distressed, but the tears streaking down his cheeks were unmistakable, even to three year old eyes. "I'm not hurt."
"I know," he sniffed trying and failing to fight against his tears, but they continued to flow freely despite his best efforts. "I know dearest, it's just... I'm just so happy to see you."
The ex-serial killer felt his heart clench painfully at the sight. It almost felt as if the muscle had crumpled up and died in his chest. Watching Mohinder tearfully cradling their child was enough to actually make the man feel...
The unmistakable feeling of a small hand tugging at his pant leg was enough to draw Sylar's attention away from the emotional scene going on in front of him. He turned his gaze downward to the pigtailed toddler starring up at him with bright blue eyes. "Morning, Unky Gabe," June chirped, waving her juice cup at him.
He groaned as a few drops of orange juice splashed onto the front of his shirt. "Peter, come and get your oldest brat away from me," he grumbled.
Peter was at his side in an instant, cradling the infant in the crook of one arm and using his free hand to pluck June from the ground and tuck her under his other arm, holding her in a manner similar to the way someone would carry a football. "You have such a way with children," he muttered dryly. "Did you ever give Mohinder that sincere, heartfelt apology like I suggested?"
Sylar shrugged. "It never really came up."
The empath frowned, looking from Mohinder -- still raining grateful kisses against Manu's round cheeks -- to Sylar. "Well, I think you should probably do it now," he whispered. Peter adjusted June until she was balanced on his hip before walking into the living room. "Mohinder," he began gently, pulling the geneticist's attention away from the toddler still wrapped tightly in his arms. "I was just about to serve breakfast. You don't mind if I take Manu into the kitchen with the girls, do you?"
"Oh, of course," Mohinder answered, reluctantly releasing the boy from his grasp.
Sylar knew right away that Peter was giving him an opening by allowing to the two to have a moment of privacy, but the knowledge that Mohinder was most likely not ready to forgive and forget, despite the hour long pain session they had just gone through gave him pause. Yet as soon as the paramedic and the children were out of the room, Sylar took the opportunity and stepped over to Mohinder. The geneticist was still kneeling on the floor, his eyes lingering on the direction of the apartment Manu had disappeared in to. Sylar sighed as he crouched down beside him.
"I'm sorry," he said, his voice quiet and awkward.
Mohinder turned to him as if he had just noticed Sylar's arrival. "Do you realize that that's the first time you've ever apologized to me for anything?" The Indian pointed out bitterly. He frowned, pushing himself off of the ground and staring down at Sylar. "And don't think that some half hearted 'sorry' is going to make up for what you did. Even before Manu was born I was worried that something like this would happen. And then I walk into his bedroom and find that my biggest fear has finally come true. How do you think that made me feel? Not knowing where my own child was? Do you think if I took something as precious away from you a simple 'I'm sorry' would be enough to fix everything?"
He sighed, not bothering to get up from his humiliating position. "Well I did just let you break my neck and every other bone in my body repeatedly for the past hour. Doesn't that count for something?"
The Indian scoffed, rolling his eyes at the comment. "You've done a lot of horrible things to me Sylar, things that I don't have the energy to drudge up right now, but the fact that you're actually acknowledging your own wrong doings is a small step in the right direction."
Sylar allowed himself a small smile when Mohinder offered him his hand in assistance. He took it willingly, yet even when he had been pulled to his feet, Mohinder did not release him from his grasp. It was no tender touch as his pale fingers quickly turned red then purple from the pain.
"Other people's feeling's matter, Sylar," Mohinder said tersely. "And I'm not just talking about myself either. Your actions affect people, they affect Manu, and if you want to be any kind of father you had better keep that in mind." His hand was alight with pain when Mohinder released the appendage from his crushing grasp. "I know you can be better than this, Sylar," Mohinder said, and the lack of a tingle in his being told the serial killer he was telling the truth, "so stop proving me wrong."
Sylar couldn't stop the broad grin from spreading across his features as the geneticist turned and walked away from him. Mohinder believed in him. That was a step in the right direction.
Movie Night