resolve
Mohinder staggered into the loft, glad that there was nobody here to see him this drunk. Ever since he had entered this world of super powers, heroes and villains, he had felt strange about celebrating the New Year. He seemed to spend it not in hope of what was to come but in sorrow for those who had fallen in the preceding months. This year, however, hope didn’t seem so ridiculous. Things had changed. He had changed. So when he had been invited by and old friend to his New Year party, he had accepted.
He had felt out of place at first. All those people asking him what he had been up to that year. They talked of babies, weddings, promotions. What was he supposed to add? “This year I turned into an insane bug man and killed a few people?” He had just smiled and given his congratulations, admitting only to having had a strange 12 months.
The clock chimed two and startled him. He went to the bedroom and was unbuttoning his shirt when his cellphone began to ring. He didn’t recognise the number but decided to answer anyway, probably a wrong number. The silence before the caller spoke told Mohinder exactly who it was. He knew the man’s breaths, could almost hear his oppressive heartbeat over the line.
“What will it take?”
Mohinder swallowed hard. “What do you want Sylar?”
Sylar sighed heavily. “Tell me what it will take, for me to come to see you this time next year and for you not to want to kill me.”
“Are you drunk?” Mohinder was thrown by the slurring, he had never seen Sylar drunk, didn’t believe for a second that he would voluntarily relinquish control.
“Maybe. Just tell me, what would it take?”
“You would have to be a good person. I would have to see it with my own eyes, and you would have to repent, for everything you’ve done. Understand I’m only telling you this because I know it would be impossible for you to do.”
“If I did all that, would you love me again?”
Mohinder snapped at the suggestion. “I never loved you. The feelings I had were based on lies, murderous lies.”
“But you loved him, and I was him once, don’t you believe you could again, if things were different, now you’re different?”
The pause was all Sylar needed. “I’ll be in touch Mohinder.”
…
Mohinder flicked through the mail absent-mindedly. The New Year’s phone call had not been forgotten but filed under Sylar mindfuck, until two weeks later a hand addressed envelope came poking out of a mass of bills and junk mail. Mohinder stared at it for a few minutes before deciding to get it over with. Inside was a newspaper clipping from the Queens Courier, about a girl called Lisa Davis. She had been close to being kicked out of college when an anonymous benefactor had paid her entire four year fees which had been in arrears. Mohinder couldn’t place what this had to do with him until the last line of the article. “Lisa had been working her way through college since the death of her father Brian in 2006.”
The second envelope came in February, and contained a newsletter from Midland Senior High School in Texas. Students were being given the opportunity to take a cultural exchange trip to Tokyo, Japan after a sizable donation was made to the school for this precise cause. The money was coming from the Charlene Andrews Memorial Fund.
Mohinder slammed the newsletter down and went to the safe where he kept the number Sylar had called him on. He was going to let him know that money couldn’t buy his affection or his acceptance, no matter which worthy cause it was going to. The phone rang twice before he hung up. Maybe give him a few more months. Why shouldn’t other people benefit from this short lived benevolence? As long as he thought that Mohinder could be won over, Sylar might actually do some good.
Months passed and still the envelopes came. A new garden for a women’s refuge center, named Eden. A refurbishment for a school for the deaf in Bozeman, in the name of Dale Smither. An orphanage called Walker House built in Mozambique. Every time Mohinder shivered at the attempt to link the crimes to the penance. The gestures were honourable, there was no doubt about that, but he found the salience of their nature to be macabre. Moreover he didn’t know these people, didn’t feel the debts being repaid. They were still just names on a list to him, most of them he had never even met.
Worse was the constant reminder of Sylar’s endeavours from other people. Noah Bennett had called out of the blue to announce that Claire’s old high school had been gifted with a new bus for the cheerleaders going to away games. He had casually asked if he knew anything about Sylar’s new project, and if he had seen him. Peter had called to say that a local respite center had been refitted. At every turn it seemed that people were willing to forgive and forget, just from these showy gestures which were obviously being funded by something nefarious.
When the phone rang in mid-July, Mohinder was actually pleased to hear from him. He wanted to set him straight. “I know what you’ve been doing.” He snapped.
“And from your tone I take it that you’re still not convinced.”
“Where are you getting this money from? Are you using your abilities to get it?”
There was a pause. “I’m using the alchemy. I’m paying with gold.”
Mohinder scoffed. “And I suppose you think that’s penance for Bob’s death? Paying for your sins isn’t supposed to be easy. If I actually thought you’d even begun to work up a sweat paying for your misdeeds I might start to be impressed. As it is the only exertion for you is from writing all those checks.” He slammed the phone down and walked away from it, as if he was somehow distancing him from Sylar. He would give up this ridiculous game now that he knew that Mohinder wouldn’t be convinced so easily.
A week later a CD arrived. Mohinder flung it to one side but after a few days the curiousity was too much and he slotted it into the laptop. His video software started up and a flickering black and white image from CCTV appeared on the screen. He pressed play and saw that it was Sylar, serving up food. A sign behind his head said “St.Andrew’s Homeless Kitchen”. Mohinder looked at the disc duration and saw it was over 4 hours long. He skipped ahead three times and still Sylar remained. The very last frame was the same as the first. Mohinder stopped the disc and leaned back in his chair. This may complicate things, he thought.
On a slow Sunday in October Mohinder sat with the assembled ‘evidence’ that Sylar had continued to send. There were the paper artefacts, the donations which Mohinder had been so quick to dismiss but that he now saw ran into millions of dollars and were really making a difference to people. There were the CDs, the CCTV footage, his volunteer of the year award from St. Andrews, the dozens of thank you cards he had received…Mohinder couldn’t stand it. This was Sylar, he was an evil, relentless killer and no amount of charity work could really change him. Could it? On a whim he decided he had to see this for himself. He grabbed his coat and headed down town towards the homeless kitchen, where the Volunteer of the Year should be about to finish his shift…
Mohinder parked outside and waited. Sylar was in there, he had seen him through the window, but at 7pm he still hadn’t emerged. Bored, and wanting to end this charade, Mohinder decided to go in. He pushed on the door and was met by the rich smell of gravy and a bustling older woman whose name tag identified her as Marge. “I’m guessing you’re not here for the turkey dinner?” she chirped, regarding his expensive looking get up.
Mohinder looked around the room, no sign of Sylar. “No, erm I was wondering if I could speak to….” He faltered, wondering if Sylar had used his real name. “To er, Gabriel?”
Marge beamed “Well if I can tear him away from the dishwasher!” she wandered off towards the serving area calling Gabriel’s name. Mohinder kept his eyes on the door that Marge went through, and seconds later she was back, with a confused Gabriel in her wake. He looked so different, softer somehow. His dark hair had some length to it and was brushed but not slicked back as it had been the last time Mohinder had seen him. A sweet smile played about Gabriel’s face as another co-worker intercepted them and squeezed his arm, saying something which made him laugh. At this sight Mohinder’s heart skipped - it was the same shy laughter, his head bowing as he did so, that had made Mohinder fall for Zane Taylor. In this different light, as a caring volunteer, with a smile on his face, Gabriel had never looked more handsome.
As he extricated himself from the co-worker and, glancing up, saw Mohinder, his face lit up and he motored towards him. “Mohinder! Good to see you, what are you doing here?”
Mohinder was wrong footed. Gabriel was happy. He had expected to find some semblance of deceit, something which would betray his apparent change of heart and show Mohinder that he was the same stone cold killer he had known. Looking at this handsome, smiling man who emitted such warmth, he could barely see Sylar in him.
“I er, I just wanted to see for myself.” Mohinder suddenly felt ashamed of himself as Gabriel nodded, clearly hurt. “I mean, I wanted to see where you volunteered.”
“Oh this is one of many!” Marge was hanging around, oblivious to the slight tension in the air. “Gabriel is such a help to us, but we do have to share him with the hospital! And the animal shelter. And the children’s home.”
Gabriel blushed, he could see the incredulity in Mohinder’s face but desperately wanted him to acknowledge his work. Marge continued unabashed “But of course you’d know that, being Gabriel’s friend, I bet he’s so busy you hardly get to see him!”
Mohinder looked into Gabriel’s eyes. He was feeling strange, almost warming to him. “Yes, yes. My loss is society’s gain. Well, I’ll let you get back to it…Gabriel.”
Gabriel nodded, a little sadly. “See you soon Mohinder.” He went back towards the kitchens and Mohinder smiled at Marge, watching Gabriel leave. He turned and stepped out into the street, the chill in the air making his head swim more than it already was. He sat in his car, trying to get Gabriel out of his head, trying not to think of how good he looked, and how he had felt almost proud when Marge had called them friends. All of a sudden he saw Gabriel leaving the kitchens and hailing a cab. He decided to follow, see if he could catch a scrap of the old Sylar peeping through. He trailed the cab as it moved through the city, leaving on the freeway towards Staten Island. It drew up outside of the aforementioned animal shelter, and Mohinder watched Gabriel pay the cab driver and walk inside.
A few minutes later he emerged again, walking three black and white puppies which squirmed and pulled everywhere. He took them round the corner and Mohinder jumped out of the car and followed. As he turned the corner of the shelter he saw Gabriel, puppies bouncing around him as he threw a ball for one, played tug with another and petted the third, barely pausing for a second as the dogs’ unbridled energy was expended. Mohinder couldn’t keep the smile from his face as he watched Gabriel falling to the floor under the combined weight of the puppies, their tails wagging madly as they licked him and fought for his attentions. Surprised at himself, Mohinder tried to recall an image of Sylar, his victims, Dale’s bloodied body, anything. But the pictures did nothing but clash with the individual he was watching, an individual who was being trusted and valued for the good he was doing.
Worried that Gabriel would see him, Mohinder turned and went back to the car. On the way back home he called into the homeless kitchen to find out which hospital Gabriel volunteered at. He didn’t know why but he wanted to see this new person and the good he was doing. Somehow it gave him hope.
Mohinder’s reconnaissance became an obsession. He was finding it harder to keep Gabriel out of his thoughts. He looked forward to the time when he would be able to see that smile, to see him walking into the children’s ward of the hospital with comics, sweets and toys and leaving empty handed. He found that he volunteered at the homeless kitchen on Sunday, Monday and Thursday mornings, the animal shelter on Thursday afternoons and Saturdays, the children’s home on Wednesday evenings and the hospital the rest of the time. One day Gabriel wasn’t at the shelter when he should have been and Mohinder knew instinctively he would be at the hospital. He had been spending more and more time there, with a six year old called Brandon who had leukaemia. He had been parked for ten minutes when Gabriel had seen him and wandered over to the car.
Mohinder slightly panicked, wondering what excuse he could use for his presence. He heard the passenger door open and looked to see Gabriel settling himself into the seat. Mohinder began his defense. “I was just, in the neighbourhood and I saw…I wondered if you might like a lift?” Gabriel smiled and fastened his seatbelt. Mohinder started the car up and as they moved off he asked about what Gabriel was doing at the hospital.
Dusting down his coat self-consciously Gabriel told him about Brandon. “He’s such a great kid, he loves dinosaurs and he makes me test him on their latin names. I first met him at the children’s home, he has no family really, just an aunt who hardly visits him. He’s a brave one, never stops smiling, calls me Sir even though I tell him to call me Gabriel.” Mohinder saw the briefest flash of sadness in Gabriel’s face as he dipped his head. “He’s sick, he’s really sick and the chemo…Well it’s really been taking it out of him lately.”
Mohinder had changed the subject at that point as it was clear that Gabriel was getting upset. He had dropped him off at his apartment, refusing the offer of tea and heading home. Once there he had looked through the box of Gabriel’s evidence again, since he had seen him with his own eyes, Gabriel had not added to it, but Mohinder liked the ritual of sorting through it, building a new persona for Gabriel, one which he hadn’t believed him to be capable of.
As December approached, Mohinder started to worry. He remembered the original question that Gabriel, then Sylar, had asked. On New Year’s Eve Gabriel was going to come here, taking the gamble that Mohinder would accept him. What if he did? What if he let his Gabriel into the loft, only for the façade to disappear and for Sylar’s monstrous visage to emerge, triumphant? And what would he want? Love? Sex? Mohinder didn’t know if he could offer any of this, but every time he saw Gabriel lately his thoughts turned to affection, then carnality. He resolved to stay away for a few weeks, try and wean himself off the lie that he feared he was concocting. He lasted until 3pm on the day it would all happen.
Holiday traffic held Mohinder up as he drove towards the hospital. By the time he got there it was dark and he feared he had missed Gabriel going in. He sat, letting all possible outcomes run through his head. He could allow Gabriel in, admit that his feelings towards him may have changed and risk being hurt, maybe even killed by Sylar. He could reject him, and see him turn back to the darkness, possibly killing more people in the resulting rage, or maybe even himself as he realised that no matter what he did he could not achieve redemption. Or maybe he and the reformed Gabriel would live happily ever after. The last possibility seemed the most outlandish. Mohinder’s eyes drifted up to the yellowy light leaking from the entrance, and he jumped as he saw Gabriel staggering out. Something was wrong. Mohinder got out of the car and went towards him. As he approached Gabriel stepped into the path of a streetlight and Mohinder saw that he was sobbing uncontrollably.
“Not now, please, not now.” Gabriel tried to walk away but Mohinder grabbed him by the shoulders, turning his face towards him. “What’s happened? Please tell me.”
Gabriel crumbled into Mohinder’s arms, gripping him. “You did this. See what happens? See what happens when you….”
Mohinder held him, shushing him without meaning to, wishing that he would stop crying. He led him back to the car where they sat in silence. Eventually Gabriel started to breath more steadily. “He didn’t make it. Brandon didn’t make it. I went in today and his bed was empty. I asked where he was and …..and the nurse just said “He died this morning”, and she walked away. I went to the chapel and I…..God, I remembered. I remembered what it’s like to lose someone. The anger, the hopelessness, the fear, the guilt….”
Mohinder took his freezing cold hand and rubbed it. “You have nothing to feel guilty about, you were there for him, you made him happy.” Gabriel gave the slightest nod. The rubbing of his hands turned to stroking as Mohinder tried to comfort him. “Is there anything I can do?”
Gabriel looked at him, not knowing whether he should dare to ask. “Will you take me home please? - Not, not my home, I mean, could I….?”
Mohinder squeezed his hand as he let go. “Of course. Of course.”
They drove in silence and when Mohinder looked over to the passenger seat after a few miles he saw that Gabriel was asleep. When they arrived at their destination he gently shook him awake and they wandered up to the loft. Mohinder didn’t know what would happen when they got inside but he wasn’t cynical enough to doubt Gabriel’s intentions. He had never seen him look so lost. He wondered whether anyone had. They sat on the sofa and Mohinder noticed his shoulders tense. He put a comforting arm around him and Gabriel sank into him, sighing, happy to be held, to be protected. Mohinder closed his eyes, cuddling him, allowing himself the realisation of how surreal this all was.
He drifted into his own thoughts for a while, stroking Gabriel’s arm absent mindedly. When something stirred out of the corner of his eye he turned his head, finding that Gabriel was staring at him. Mohinder put a hand to Gabriel’s cheek which was still damp with tears, and pressed their lips together. Just as Gabriel began to kiss back the clock chimed, and they both looked up instinctively. Mohinder smiled as he heard distant fireworks. Well, here they were. “Happy New Year Gabriel.” he said.
Gabriel smiled shyly, and Mohinder’s heart skipped once more. The last twelve months, the doubts, the uncertainties melted away as Mohinder concentrated on what was true for him here and now. In his arms was a good man, a repentant man, who he had loved once, and could again. He felt that he could love him again.
Banner images of Sylar and Mohinder by
brandinsbabe and letsey_x